normalize being dogshit amateur at your special interests and hyperfocuses. no more autistic savants. yes i am very into that topic no i am not good at it. we exist <3
normalize being dogshit amateur at your special interests and hyperfocuses. no more autistic savants. yes i am very into that topic no i am not good at it. we exist <3
The day before the trip, you’re turning a corner at the office and she’s spilling an iced caramel macchiato - extra whipped cream, extra caramel drizzle - onto your clothes.
“Oh my god-” she spits, mouth frozen open as the reality of what she’d just done dawns on you both. She sees the suit, sees the ID card dangling on a lanyard from your neck, sees the Director title on it - and freezes.
After you both overcome your momentary shock, she steps close, producing napkins from her blazer’s inside pocket and using it to wipe uselessly at the whipped cream and caffeinated sugar-water soaking into your jacket.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you say, genuinely. You were late to a meeting, and it was probably your fault for turning the corner too quickly without looking. You notice the equally wet patch on her own blazer, and notice her napkins quickly shredding into wet pieces as they try and fail to absorb the rogue caffeine stain. You reach into your pocket for your handkerchief and offer it to her.
“I- shit, I’ll, uh,” she stammers, even as she takes your handkerchief.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, slipping the jacket off, offering a crooked smile. For the first time you look up at her. She’s an unfamiliar face, and her ID card isn’t immediately visible. She’s slim, with dark hair, and beneath the awkward, worried look on her features is the kind of face that belongs on a magazine. You smile sheepishly.
“I’m so fucking sorry, I’ll get it cleaned, oh my god-”
“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” you say, already heading down the hall. “Late to a meeting. See you around!”
She watches you leave, still a little frozen in shock. She clutches what’s left of her macchiato in one hand, your handkerchief in the other.
She sighs.
---
“Seoul. Tokyo. Two weeks each. You leave tomorrow.”
Taeyeon slides a tablet across her desk, just past the Vice President, Strategy name plate. On it are graphs and spreadsheets, numbers generally in green and arrows pointing generally upward. She spares a glance at the clearly dripping blazer folded over the back of your chair, and the corresponding damp spot on your chest, before leaning forward and threading her fingers atop her desk.
“Seoul is doing fine. Tokyo needs to pick it up a little,” she continues, tone sharp and direct, business persona fully on and engaged. “Either way, the CEO wants a status report on both offices by end-of-month so he can decide whether to expand ops in either country. We already have the hard data we need for a business case - we just need someone on the ground to confirm the numbers. Meet with the directors of each office, let them wine and dine you, take a tour of the facilities and offices, slap together a report for me to hand to the boss when you get back. Piece of cake.”
“Sounds like a month-long vacation,” you reply, relaxing a little further into the leather chair opposite her desk.
“Consider it a thank you for the good work you did on the Hirai deal,” Taeyeon says with a shrug, taking a sip from her mug - double-shot Americano, black, extra hot. You smirk as you recall the details of the deal, which took every ounce of your attention and time for a couple of months. There were too many long nights spent in this very office, the two of you working away at this document or that.
“And you’re too busy?”
Taeyeon glares, but there’s no heat in the frown on her lips. “I’m going to London to check up on the office there. I’d spend too much time in Seoul fielding ‘why aren’t you married to a chaebol heir and popping out kids yet’ questions from the family.”
“Coward. Come to Seoul with me. I’ll play the handsome foreign fiance in front of your parents. Maybe we tell them there’s a bun in the oven. Maybe in the hotel room-”
Taeyeon throws a paper clip at you. Her faux-serious frown becomes a reluctant smile to mirror the one on your own. Thankfully, her promotion to a VP position a year ago didn’t change the close relationship you’d forged over almost a decade of working together, especially now that you technically reported to her. HR would’ve had a field day with the things said and done in this twentieth-floor corner office, had even a fraction of it somehow leaked beyond its walls.
“You had your shot with me,” she says, mostly-jokingly, under her breath. You don’t miss the wistfulness in the corners of her eyes as she crosses her arms and makes a playful show of looking out of her office’s floor-to-ceiling windows at Vancouver’s dark, cloudy afternoon. “I’ve moved on.”
Silence reigns for a moment that felt longer than it actually was. The I haven’t on your lips dies there, unspoken.
“Anyway, you’ll need a translator,” Taeyeon continues, eager to change the subject before it drowned you both in memories of years past. She shuffles a few papers around randomly on her desk in an attempt to alleviate the sudden tension in the air. When she looks up at you, the wistfulness isn’t entirely gone - just pushed down by the professionalism she wore like armor. “Her file’s on the tablet. Some new kid from Marketing.”
Your eyes linger on Taeyeon’s for a moment longer before you pick up the tablet. There is something behind her eyes in that split-second - thoughts she perhaps wants to turn into words. But the moment passes as quickly as it comes. She turns her eyes to her laptop, and you return yours to the tablet.
A swipe left reveals a resume and an unfamiliar name.
“Ryujin Shin.”
“Brand new to the company - only been with us less than a year, but apparently she’s already a bit of a rock star. Got promoted to Marketing Lead in six months. Her manager says she volunteered for this assignment. She was pretty insistent that she get it, apparently. Maybe she thinks overseas experience will be good for her career.”
“Hmm,” you muse, as you review Ryujin’s resume. Degree with honors, top of her training cohort, gleaming reference letters.
“She’s fluent in both Korean and Japanese,” Tayeon continues, “so make sure you get your translations directly from her. CEO wants real shit in the report, not a sugarcoated version from the local translators.”
You place the tablet back on her desk as you rise. “I’ll get it done, ma’am,” you state, before straightening up and giving her an exaggerated military salute.
Taeyeon returns the salute with one of her own, a soft smile perking up the corners of her lips. For a moment she’s twenty-six again, bright-eyed, greeting you with a smile at the company orientation that she was in charge of organizing. You feel something stir in your chest, somewhere deep down where the past still lingered.
“Dismissed, Director,” she answers.
Her smile follows you out the door. It lingers even after you leave, but tinged with a sadness that she’d fought to keep hidden while you were in the room.
---
Ryujin Shin was late.
You weren’t exactly sure what to expect - her profile didn’t include a photo or even so much as a birthdate, so you treated every female that approached within twenty feet as potentially being your translator and guide for the next month. This resulted in some awkward eye contact and equally awkward smiles with random female travellers making their way through Vancouver International Airport’s departures terminal.
You’re directing one such awkward smile toward a middle-aged woman when the actual Ryujin Shin approaches.
“Director?”
You turn your head to the sound and there she is - the girl from the morning prior. The one that had left half her drink on your suit jacket.
“...Ryujin Shin?”
“That’s me,” she says, shyly. She fidgets with the slim silver chain around her wrist. She’s dressed casually, in an oversized navy cardigan and wide cut jeans, but looks just as fitting for a magazine cover as she did when she was spilling iced caffeine on you the day before. “Shall we get going?”
---
The thirteen hours over the Pacific are relatively uneventful - hours of movies on your iPad, a microwaved but surprisingly edible bibimbap, and dying more than you’d like in the latest Souls-like to test your blood pressure. Ryujin spent most of it asleep, snoring softly in the seat next to you.
It’s near midnight when the two of you arrive in South Korea’s capital city. The bright neon lights of downtown Seoul paint Ryujin’s soft features in bright blues and pastel pinks as she stares out the taxi windows with wonder, awe, and nostalgia clashing on her soft features. The taxi pulls up in front of a high-end boutique hotel that your assistant had insisted was popular with travel influencers.
Ryujin slipped into her translator duties early, helping the two of you check in to your rooms. You don’t miss the blush on her cheeks and the embarrassed wave of her hands when the desk clerk sheepishly asks her a question in Korean before shooting you a glance heavy with implication. Eventually, Ryujin receives two key cards from the clerk and hands one of them to you as you both make your way to the elevator.
“She thought we were married,” she admits, shyly, as she pushes the up arrow button on the wall. “Thought we were here for our wedding or something.”
“Cute,” you say, shooting her a smile. The blush lingers.
The elevator dings on the 10th floor, and the doors open. Ryujin heads out first, but when you make to follow her, she stops you with a raised hand.
“Company got you a suite. You’re on the 14th floor. Room 1421.”
“Oh,” you admit. “Got it.”
“Don’t forget - first meeting tomorrow is at 9am. See you in the lobby at 8?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good night, Director,” she says with a slim smile, before disappearing behind the closing elevator doors, leaving you still a little unsure as to what to make of her.
--
Your first day in the Seoul office is filled with introductions and greetings - it wasn’t your first time in the city and you were used to the overly formal introductions, but it didn’t make things any less awkward. The day starts with a meeting with the office’s leadership, each of whom rise from their seats in turn and provide you with their name, title, and what you assume to be the usual corporate platitudes and greetings.
At your shoulder, Ryujin translates.
“...Shin Yuna, Marketing Lead. She’s looking forward to working with you. Lee Chaeryeong, Operations Lead. She’s looking forward to working with you. Hwang Yeji, Legal Counsel. She’s looking forward to working with you. Choi Jisu, HR Head. She’s looking forward to-”
You turn your head to Ryujin and give her a smile. She looks sharp in a white blouse, navy blazer, and charcoal pencil skirt, hair pulled up into a professional bun atop her head.
“I get it,” you whisper, softly, with a small smile. “They’re looking forward to working with me.”
Ryujin nods. Her cheeks blush slightly and there’s the ghost of a smile on her lips, but she otherwise returns to translating as the office director begins his opening speech.
---
“...profitability is up eighteen point nine five percent - primarily driven by… logistics improvements- no, a better word would be enhancements… that allow for faster- actually, no, I mean smoother transport of goods up from the port of Busan to manufacturing and distribution facilities in Seoul,” Ryujin says, softly but clearly. At the head of the room, the Operations Lead continues her presentation in rapid-fire Korean, gesturing to a bar graph that emphasizes the eighteen point nine five percent increase in large green numbers.
“Ask her to elaborate on what she means by ‘logistics enhancements,’” you ask Ryujin, turning your head to speak softly to her. You watch as Ryujin nods and frantically jots down notes in a messy looking notebook.
Ryujin raises her hand, interrupting the presentation, and asks your question in Korean. She corrects herself with a couple of her word choices, as though a better word had come to her just as the previous one had left her mouth. The Operations Lead takes a moment to consider her response before answering.
“She says they found a way to… get better pricing agreements- no, contracts- from their suppliers - no, I mean, she used the term suppliers, but I think she means shipping specialists. The big difference that resulted in the increase was how they went from relying on trucks -I mean, truckload shipping, to high-speed rail to send goods from the Port of Busan to Seoul. The costs for shipping via trains are lesser than shipping via trucks due to-”
“They went from trucks to trains, got it,” you say, with a grin.
Ryujin nods. “Yeah,” she agrees, with a flustered smile.
“Thank her, and ask her to continue.”
The smile lingers on Ryujin’s lips as she asks the Operations Lead to continue. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as she scribbles “trucks to trains” in her notebook.
---
The setting sun is painting Seoul in gold and amber by the time the day’s meetings have wrapped up. You were used to the long working hours involved with working in Asian offices, but the jetlag made the first afternoon especially draining.
Next to you, Ryujin stifles a yawn as you both step out into the early summer evening.
“Jetlag?” you ask as you both head towards the street and the taxis waiting there.
“Jetlag,” she repeats. She fidgets with the silver chain bracelet again, fingers tracing the delicate links - a habit of hers, you’d noticed. She flags down a waiting taxi, and you follow her into the cab as she gives the driver the address of the hotel and the car pulls away from the curb.
“Dinner plans tonight?” you ask as you watch Seoul’s downtown whiz by in a blur of concrete and glass.
There is a moment of silence. When Ryujin doesn’t answer, you give her a glance to find her eyes already on yours. She looks away shyly, fingers playing with the glimmering silver wrapped around her wrist.
“Uh, probably just going to grab something from the convenience store,” she says. “Kinda tired.”
“Gotcha. I suppose I’ll do the same and call it a night early,” you admit. “Jetlag’s a bitch.”
There is an awkward, uncomfortable silence for a few more blocks. At a red light, you watch as the neon sign above a fried chicken and beer restaurant beckons weary office workers into its doors. On the outdoor tables, tired-looking office employees tuck into delicious looking chicken wings and frosted mugs of beer.
“I wouldn’t mind some of that right now,” you say, hoping to break the tension.
Silence for a few more seconds. You watch as Ryujin peers out your window and notices the sign. Her lips curl up into a small, cautious smile.
She asks the driver to pull over.
---
The fried chicken and beer restaurant is busy but comfortable, the kind of neighborhood place that catered mostly to local employees from the surrounding corporate towers grabbing a bite and a drink on their way home. Ryujin orders in Korean, and soon enough you find yourselves presented with that heavenly combination of fried chicken and light beer. A side of fries and mozzarella sticks accompany the main course at Ryujin’s insistence.
The conversation is light and casual, mostly about the day’s meetings. It’s towards the end of the meal that you muster the courage to broach the topic that had been weighing on your mind for the whole trip.
“Hey, Ryujin,” you begin. “Are we… cool? I dunno, just wanted to make sure you didn’t secretly hate me or something.”
Ryujin takes a sip of beer, likely to buy time for her to form a response. She places her mug back on the table and examines the half-eaten piece of chicken thigh on her plate for a few seconds, as though she could find the right answer to your question somewhere amidst the delicious breaded and fried poultry on her plate.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asks, cautiously.
You smile to yourself as you take a sip of your own beer.
“Hmm,” you begin, feigning ignorance. “I don’t think we’ve met prior to this trip. Your file says you’ve been with the company a year or so?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmmmmm,” you continue, tapping a finger on your lips for emphasis. “No, I think I’d remember if I bumped into someone like you. So no, I don’t remember. But my suit jacket might.”
A moment passes before Ryujin’s lips break into a tentative smile.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she says, covering her face shyly with her hands. “I felt so bad.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, happy to have lightened the mood somewhat. “I didn’t really like that jacket anyway.”
“I could pay to have it cleaned?”
“Naw,” you assure. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked. It was due for a visit to the dry cleaners, anyway. Dropped it off on my way to the airport.”
Ryujin nods, returning to pushing the chicken thigh around on her plate. “Alright,” she says, “but drinks after this are on me. Least I could do for leaving half a macchiato on your jacket.”
“Sure,” you agree, excited at the prospect of getting to know her better over drinks. You take your corporate credit card out of your wallet and place it on the table before excusing yourself from the table to hit the washroom.
The waiter comes by and Ryujin uses your card to pay for the meal. She gathers her things and waits for you outside the restaurant.
Outside, she lets a long, sad sigh escape her throat, wishing you had a better memory.
---
“I was born here,” Ryujin begins as she pours you a shot of soju from the second bottle the two of you were working on. “Family moved to Vancouver when I was six, so I essentially grew up there - but somehow, coming back always feels like coming home.”
“Ahh,” you say, taking the small shot glass and tapping it to hers before downing the shot. The soju here is harder and less sweet - unlike the overly sugary versions back home. You pick at the seafood pancake on the table with your chopsticks, chasing the burn of the alcohol with the grease of fried batter. “So - what brought you to the company?”
Ryujin takes her own bite of the pancake before refilling your glasses with another shot. She takes a moment to swirl the alcohol around in the glass, not quite bringing it to her lips just yet.
“It’s the biggest game in town,” she begins. “Wanted to work with the best.”
“Fair enough. How has the first year been?”
Ryujin’s eyes leave yours for a moment, drifting to the space between you.
“Good,” she begins, the word leaving her mouth in a measured, careful way. “The orientation week in particular was… fun.”
You perk up at the mention of orientation week. The company had a mentorship program wherein every new employee was matched with a senior leader for a week during their company orientation - one of Taeyeon’s ideas. It was during the inaugural orientation week, almost a decade ago, that you and Taeyeon had begun your friendship. You’d since taken over leadership of the program following her promotion to VP a year ago.
“That’s good to hear,” you begin. “I really enjoyed my own orientation week, and I really wanted to make sure new employees get the same experience. I’m glad yours went well.”
Ryujin nods, a soft smile perking up the corners of her mouth. The sight of it stirs you, because you’re convinced it’s the first genuine smile you’ve seen on her lips.
“It was great,” she says, eyes suddenly bright, smile a little more authentic, a little more real - as though she were waiting the whole trip to bring up this topic. “I really liked getting to know-”
Your phone, on the table between you, vibrates. The message preview on your lock screen shows a message from Taeyeon, asking if the weather in Seoul is as good as it is in London. Attached to it is a selfie - her in front of Big Ben, half a world away.
“Sorry,” you say, grabbing the phone and putting it on Do Not Disturb before replacing it face down on the table.
“It’s fine,” Ryujin says, not having missed the brief message preview or the attached photo. She downs her shot of soju - without tapping her glass to yours. “It’s getting late, and we’ve got meetings tomorrow. Shall we?”
---
“That was fun,” you say as the two of you wait for the elevators back at the hotel. “Thanks for translating those menus for me. Would’ve been microwaved rice and a can of tuna for me otherwise.”
Ryujin smiles, but even the blush of alcohol on her cheeks fails to hide the awkwardness that is still lingering somewhere behind the curve of her lips.
“No worries,” she says, as the two of you step into the elevator and she hits the button for her floor. “Thanks for the food.”
“Thank the company card, not me,” you say with a grin.
She smiles back, politely, but doesn’t say anything more. The elevator doors open to her floor, and she steps out.
“First meeting’s at 9-”
“-see you at 8,” you finish.
She smiles a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. You wave good night. As the elevator door closes again, the forced smile leaves her face, replaced quickly with a frown - just a moment too soon, just long enough for you to see.
The elevator rises to your floor, leaving you no closer to figuring out Ryujin Shin than you were the day before.
---
“Director!” Shin Yuna exclaims, the title overly sweet and saccharine, almost sing-song in its delivery. “Do you… want to drink? With us?”
The Marketing Lead is standing a few steps apart from a dozen or so members of the Seoul office that are seemingly debating which dinner and drinks spot to hit first. Yuna - bright, cheery, and a little too handsy - skips over to you, wrapping her forearm around yours.
“Team bonding,” she says, her accent giving the English words a pleasant lilt. Her smile is wide and cheerful, and for a moment you lose yourself in the fact that an attractive young woman is asking you to join her for drinks.
“Uh-” you stammer, even as Yuna forcefully drags you towards the rest of the team, who have begun to wander towards the first destination of the night.
“What’s wrong?” Yuna asks, lower lip extended in an exaggerated pout.
“Nothing, Yuna - it’s just-”
“Ah, I see,” she says, turning back towards where Ryujin is just appearing from the revolving door entrance to the office, eyes glued to her phone. “You need her. To… translate.”
Ryujin looks up from her phone to see you, Yuna’s arm hooked in yours.
“Ryujin-ssi!” Yuna exclaims, waving at Ryujin with her free hand more frantically than was actually necessary. “Come join us!”
Ryujin’s eyes flit to you, then at Yuna’s arm around yours, then back to your eyes.
“Sure,” she says, before moving toward you.
---
It’s somewhere between the second and third stops of the night that you finally find yourself alone with Ryujin. She is trailing just behind the crowd as it sings off-tune k-pop ballads into the warm Seoul evening. Yuna is at their head, leading them to the bright red pocha tents like a conductor leading an inebriated orchestra.
“Having fun?” you ask.
“Yeah,” she answers, turning to you with a smile that betrays the lie.
Silence for another few steps.
“Hey,” you start, stopping in place. “Ryujin,” you add, when she continues without you.
“Yeah?”
The questions come to your lips - What’s wrong? What’s your problem? Did I do something? Is this going to be the month-long business trip from hell with a translator that hates me?
“Can we talk?” you manage.
Ryujin glances over at the crowd of your colleagues as they disappear into one of the pocha tents.
“Sure,” she says, stepping towards a different one.
---
The soju arrives quickly. She hadn’t bothered to ask you what you wanted before ordering it. The bottle hasn’t been on the table for a second before Ryujin picks it up, twists the cap, and pours you both a shot. Neither of you move to take it.
“Ryujin,” you begin, cautious, wary of your word choice. “I… I’m a little confused,” you admit, honestly. “I thought things were cool between us after dinner last night. I liked… getting to know you.”
Ryujin can’t hide the small quirk in her lip, as though what you’d just said had physically hurt her.
“I-” you begin, “I feel like maybe there’s something you’re not telling me? Or something I’m missing? Because after we had drinks you seemed kind of… upset. We’re going to be working together for a month, and-”
“-and you don’t want things to be awkward,” she finishes. Her eyes finally find yours, an unreadable, blank expression on her face.
“Yeah,” you admit. “Did I fuck something up? Say something that upset you? Is this about the drink you spilled on my suit? Because I’m trying to remember if I-”
“No,” she interrupts. She takes a sip from her soju glass, but her eyes don’t raise from the table between you.
“Then what is it?” Your glass of soju sits on the table, untouched.
Silence for a few more seconds, each one far longer than it had any right to be.
“Jesus Christ,” she says, eyes rolling, before finally settling on you. “You really don’t remember me.”
“What? I just said I did. You spilled your drink on my jacket and-”
“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow,” she states, before she stands, her plastic chair scraping loudly against the concrete. She steps out of the pocha and raises her hand to flag a nearby taxi.
The silver chain on her wrist catches the fading Seoul sunset.
And you remember.
---
“My mother gave it to me,” she says, eyes dropping to the delicate silver on her wrist. “When I graduated. First one in the family to get a degree! She wanted to commemorate it somehow. It means a lot.”
“That’s awesome,” you reply, watching her fingers play with the glimmering links. “I bet she’s real proud of you.”
“She is,” she replies, eyes forlorn for a moment. You sense that she wants to tell you more, that there are thoughts right there on her lips that she debates turning into words.
She wants to tell you how much she’s looked forward to your one-on-one meetings, how she’s laid in bed at night going over everything you said and did that day with a smile on her lips. She wants to tell you about how she’s memorized the flex in your forearms as you point something out on your laptop, the way you tie your tie, the scent of your cologne. She wants to tell you that the way she bumped her knees against yours under the table “accidentally” that morning wasn’t really accidental at all.
But she settles for something less. Something more professional, more fitting for an orientation week spent with a senior leader she only just met a few days ago.
“Anyway - you were telling me about our distribution channels in Korea?”
“Right,” you say, glancing back at the PowerPoint in full screen on your laptop. “Our manufacturing happens all over the world, but our main distribution centre is in Seoul. Goods come up from Busan…”
---
“Ryujin!” you say, throwing some cash on the table before leaving the pocha tent and catching up with her on the curb. “Ryujin. I remember.”
She turns to face you, arms crossed, upset.
“Do you?” she asks, unconvinced.
“Orientation week,” you blurt, ashamed. “We were matched up.”
Relief and disappointment war on Ryujin’s features. When she speaks, the words leave her mouth with intent, as though she’d been waiting to say them for a while. “I couldn’t give less of a shit about that corporate bullshit,” she spits. “And I get that people like you are too busy to give a fuck about lowly Marketing drones. What I care about is-”
A vehicle pulls up to the curb. The door opens. A taxi.
“-when people break their promises,” she finishes, her tone suddenly sadder. “Or forget they made them in the first place.”
She gets into the taxi alone, and it pulls away from the curb. For a second, you catch the way Seoul’s streetlights make her eyes glisten.
---
“I had a great week, Director,” she says, hands clasping her tablet to her chest like it were some sort of life preserver. “Thanks for… taking me seriously.”
“Pleasure was all mine. You’re gonna kill it in Marketing. Your comments on the Hirai marketing campaign materials were visionary - I’ve forwarded them to your boss and he’s pretty impressed. I think they’ll make a difference when it comes to the bargaining phase. And please, drop the title. I have a first name like anyone else.”
She smiles, a hint of a blush on her cheeks. She says your name out loud, as though she were testing the way it sounded. You feel something stir inside you at the sound of your name, and the smile it leaves behind on her lips.
You want to tell her that the week flew by, and that you’d wished you’d had more scheduled one-on-ones with her to look forward to next week, where you’d start discussing market demographics and somehow end up discussing which of the Sailor Scouts was your favorite. You want to tell her you are a little in love with the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, or the cute burrow in her brow when she’s concentrating on logistics figures and graphs. You want to tell her that you’ll miss her perfume - something between caramel and vanilla? - and the way she laughs at your terrible puns. You want to ask her if she’ll have lunch with you next Tuesday - and maybe dinner the Friday after that.
But you settle for something less - something more fitting of a leader during a brief, HR-mandated mentorship with a new recruit.
“Anyway,” you continue, eager to make sure she doesn’t catch on to your sudden nervousness. “Tip #2,391 before you go: the ramen place a block away from here has a pretty great tonkotsu.”
“Ooooh,” she coos. “My favorite.” She plays with the bracelet on her wrist, fingers pinching the silver links as though she could squeeze the courage she needed from them. “...I don’t suppose you’d want to join me tonight after work-”
A woman approaches - Ryujin recognizes her from the executive introductions earlier in the week; the new VP of Strategy, Taeyeon Kim. She’s all poise and professionalism, corporate success in a tailored black pantsuit. She gives Ryujin a brief nod and a token smile before turning to you.
“Budget meeting for the Hirai deal in five,” she says to you, before heading off towards the meeting rooms.
“Duty calls,” you state to Ryujin. “Ramen sounds good, though. See you at six?”
“It’s a date,” she says, smile bright.
The Hirai deal budget meeting takes all night. Ryujin eats alone.
---
It takes three knocks for her to open the door.
“Yes, Director?” she asks, arms crossed, frosty emphasis on your title. Gone are the crisp pale blue blouse and heather grey pencil skirt, replaced with a navy blue oversized hoodie and strawberry-print pajama shorts. Her hair, released from the corporate bun she wore during the day, falls in dark waves around her face.
“The ramen date. I remember. I’m sorry. I was in a meeting that day that-”
“It’s not that that fucking matters,” she interrupts, the curse word somehow sounding sharper than you’d expected coming from her. “It’s the ghosting afterward. I wasn’t expecting a Director to give two shits about a lowly newbie in Marketing, but an apology would’ve been nice.”
“That deal took every ounce of my attention for a few months,” you protest. “I’m sorry, Ryujin. I really am.”
She seems only slightly placated by your apology. Her crossed arms tighten around her small torso, as though tightening her plates of armor. “And you just totally forgot about me afterward, huh? Even after I spilled a drink on your chest accidentally-on-purpose? Even after I volunteered for this assignment, hoping you’d remember me when saw my name on the brief?”
You frown, unsure of what else to do or say.
“Do you know how it makes me feel to have someone I was into ask me who the fuck I am? Twice?” she continues. “Make me feel like I’m top of the world one moment, then forget I exist the next? No one I’ve ever known has made me feel… seen like you did - and then you went and forgot all about me the second your precious VP smiled at you.”
There is silence for a moment. She was into you? A hand uncrosses itself from her chest and moves to her mouth, as though she regretted saying the words.
“Ryujin, I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” you manage. You look up at her and she’s covering her face with her hand now, brow furrowed, as though she were suddenly fighting a headache.
“You don’t have to say anything, Director,” she says, arms crossing again. “I’m used to not expecting anything from you.”
More silence. Her words hit you with the force of a punch to the gut. She lingers there for a moment, as though gauging your response and finding none. She moves to close the door.
“I… I’ll see you at the office tomorrow,” she says, defeat and disappointment in every syllable.
Your hand, operating out of instinct, holds the door open with your palm. She looks up at you, surprised. Your feet carry you forward until you’re standing in front of the door frame.
“I’m here now, Ryujin,” you say. “I see you.”
“Do you?” she hisses. “Did you ever? Or was I just-”
You step forward, and you kiss her.
Your hands drift to her sides, holding her close. After a moment, her hands find their way to your chest, and you fear that she’s about to push you away - but instead they wind around your neck, fingers sliding into your hairline. She kisses you back, and your tongues find each other.
You pull away first. “Fuck, Ryujin, I’m sorry. That was-”
“Stop fucking apologizing,” she spits, and then she’s kissing you again, leaving one hand around your neck to pull you into her hotel room and using the other to shut the door behind her. You both stumble backward, lips locked, until her butt brushes up against her room’s desk.
You break the kiss. You look into her eyes and find them half-lidded, full of need. You smile, and she returns it, before she leans to kiss you again.
Your hands find their way under her hoodie. You grasp its hem, testing the waters and her reaction.
“Quickly,” she says, taking the hoodie by the hem and peeling it off her body herself, “before I realize how monumentally stupid this is.”
You smirk as your mouth finds her neck and she leans her head backward to allow you better access. A soft gasp leaves her lips as you find a warm point on her neck, kissing and suckling, leaving a mark on her.
She’s topless - not having worn a bra beneath her hoodie - and you want more of her, want to taste her on your tongue. Your hands find their way beneath her butt and you lift her onto the desk, depositing her on it with a soft thud. She yelps - and you silence her with a kiss before bending to kiss a trail down her neck and to her heaving chest. Your hands snake up her sides, cupping her small, round breasts, teasing but not touching her nipples.
“Fuck, just-” she begins, the words turning into a wordless gasp as you capture one of her nipples in your mouth, tongue slick and wet and licking a flat stripe across it. You close your lips around the bud, swirling the tip of your tongue around it, feeling it tighten quickly with arousal. Her hands snake into your hair, her back arching as she offers more of her body to you.
You switch, suckling her other nipple, closing your lips around it and sucking hard. Your free hand reaches up to tease and pinch her saliva-coated breast, not leaving it unattended.
“Oh god,” she gasps, “like that, like that.” She says your name and it’s breathless and airy, the best possible iteration of it you’d ever heard.
She’s writhing now, a mess of sighs and gasps atop the hotel desk. You could’ve stayed there all night, suckling from her small, cute little breasts and the tight nipples atop them - but she has other ideas, other needs. Her hands find themselves flat against your chest and with a regretful sigh she finally pushes you away from her chest. She hops off the desk, pushing you back against the bed.
Ryujin straddles you as you sit atop it, and you’re kissing again - passionate, intense, wild. She breaks the kiss first - and when you angle your neck to resume it, she smiles and steps off the bed, standing between your spread legs.
“Off,” she hisses, bending to help you get your pants and boxers off your legs after you undo the belt buckle and zipper. You take the opportunity to rid yourself of your button-up while she lets her shorts slide down her legs to pool at her feet - and you’re both naked. She’s so slim and small and tight, her tiny waist and the fullness in her hips and thighs forming a perfect hourglass in the dim light of her hotel room.
She’s straddling you again - naked, this time, and you both let a deep sigh escape your lips as the heat between her legs makes contact with your stiffened shaft. Almost immediately she begins to gyrate and writhe in your lap, hips sliding her slick heat against your hips and cock.
“Fuck,” she hisses from behind gritted teeth, between frenzied, urgent kisses. “Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“Me too, Ryujin. Fucking need to be inside you-”
“Now,” she snaps. “Fuck me now.”
“Condom,” you say, almost regretfully. “My jacket pocket.”
Ryujin lets out a sigh, hopping off your lap for a moment to retrieve your jacket for you. You fish it out of the wrapper, placing it on your tip - and you sigh, softly, as Ryujin straddles you again and rolls it down your shaft. You gasp as her slim fingers wrap themselves around you, giving you a small squeeze.
“Fuck me,” Ryujin hisses into your ear.
Your arms wrap around her and you turn her over on the bed so you’re on top. Your hand reaches between you, placing your tip at her opening. Even through the latex you can feel the heat of her, almost feel the slickness of her body as your tip divides her lips.
Your eyes find hers. She tells you without words what she wants.
You slide inside her, and she’s tight and hot, the thin barrier of latex doing little to dampen the sensations of her body wrapping itself around your shaft. You give her a moment to adjust to the stretch, the fullness - before you’re pulling out slowly, leaving just the tip inside her, and sliding back in, filling her again.
“Fuck, fuck yes,” she’s hissing into your ear, arms wrapping around your neck, thighs parting and lower legs pulling against your butt. There’s a hint of relief in the words and sighs spilling softly from her mouth, as though she were finally receiving something she’d wanted and waited for for so long. “Yes, yes, you’e stretching me out, fuck--”
Ryujin’s voice is like silk, smooth and light, and you find it difficult to reconcile the filth leaving her lips with the perfect, business-like translations she whispered in your ear from earlier in the day. To hear that voice now, urging you, begging you to fuck her harder, faster - it drove you insane.
“Harder, please, harder.”
You comply, and soon you're thrusting in and out of her cunt at a firm but consistent pace, her tight walls squeezing around you on each entry and only reluctantly letting you go on the backstroke. You kiss her again and it’s frantic, fevered. When your lips part your eyes remain locked on each other, inches apart.
“So… fucking tight, Ryujin.”
“Mmmmph,” is the only reply, at least initially - a soft, wordless moan after a particularly deep thrust that leaves her eyes rolling back into her skull for a moment. Her eyes close shut, her head tilted back to reveal the pale column of her throat. She lets a long, languid moan leave her lips when you place yours on her neck.
Your pace continues - in, out, in, out - each thrust sending another spike of pleasure up your spines. She brings her mouth close to your ear.
“I’m gonna cum soon,” she hisses. “Gonna cum on your cock, Daddy-”
The word unmakes you - ignites something dark and primal inside you that sends a jolt of sheer pleasure up your spine and into your brain. You increase your pace, her voice and the words they form giving you a high you want to chase. She moans louder, sighs louder, curses sweet words into your ear. Her walls tighten around you, pulsating; her legs lock themselves around your hips; her nails dig sharp furrows into your scalp.
“Fuck, Daddy, fuck--”
“Cum for me, baby,” reply, bringing your own lips to her ear - your turn to torture her with words. “Cum on my cock, Ryujin. Cum on my cock like a good little girl.”
Calling her that must have similarly ignited something dark and primal inside her, because almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, she cums. Her entire body spasms, her back arching off the now-sweaty mattress, her cunt pulsating and tightening exponentially around your shaft as you fuck her through the orgasm coursing through her veins.
The moan of pleasure that leaves her mouth is unholy - a wordless sound of uncontrolled pleasure tumbling wildly from her lips and into your ear.
Your pace slows, eventually, probably for the better as a few more moments of thrusting inside Ryujin’s pulsating, vice-tight cunt probably would have undone you. She comes down from her high, aftershocks still sending involuntary spasms through her limbs. Her eyes, shut throughout her orgasm, eventually open to find yours.
She pulls your head to her lips and you kiss, her tongue finding yours quickly and resuming the duel it had been waging for the past half hour.
“Fuck, Daddy,” she begins, the use of that word sending a little tremor of pleasure straight to your groin. “Fuck, that felt so good.”
“You feel even better, baby girl,” you reply, burying yourself into her neck again and planting small kisses onto the side of her neck.
“Did you--?” she asks.
“No, not yet,” you reply, emphasizing your response with a twist of your hips that sends another soft moan tumbling from her lips.
“Mmmmm,” she sighs. “We better fix that.”
Her palms find your chest and she gently pushes you away. You get the hint and slowly ease yourself out of her, sitting back on your haunches. You watch, in awe, as Ryujin turns onto her hands and knees.
“Fuck me like this, Daddy.”
You want to savor the sight of her - on all fours, that round, full ass of hers presented to you, the slick, dripping cunt between her thighs begging to be filled again. You last only a second before your urges overcome your self-control. Before you know it you’re positioning yourself behind her, hands giving her firm cheeks and a soft spank that wrests a yelp of surprise from her. She looks over her shoulder back at you and the image of her - naked, back glistening with sweat, eyes half-lidded with want - is one you want to remember forever.
You bring your tip to her opening - only to find her easing away from you. Puzzled, you find her eyes still locked on you.
“Not like that, Daddy.”
“What do you mean, baby?”
Her lower lip curls under a tooth for a moment before she licks her lips - another small, lustful gesture that drives you insane.
“I… I want-” she begins. “I want it. You. I want to feel you.”
You catch on to what she means, and know what she wants you to do, but you want to hear it from her. Want to hear that voice - the same one whispering business and corporate in your ear during the day - to say it.
“Tell me what you want, Ryujin. Use your words, baby girl.”
Ryujin’s lips curl into a wry smile, her tooth biting into her lip again. Her back arches, like a cat stretching. She pushes her dripping, slick cunt back toward your latex-covered cock, capturing your shaft between the cheeks of her ass and gyrating against it. You moan - long, low - as she grinds against you. She’s hot and slick against the underside of your shaft and you find yourself groaning at the feel of her grinding away against you.
She straightens up, presses her sweat-slick back against your chest. You reach around and wrap your arms around her torso on instinct, your hands finding and cradling her soft, small breasts, capturing and teasing her nipples between your thumbs and index fingers.
“Ryujin-” you begin, a token protest, as you place kisses on her neck and shoulder. Even though you can’t see it, you know she’s smiling. She lets a hand drift back between your bodies, cradling your trembling, covered cock.
“Daddy, please,” she says, half-gasp, half-demand. Her fingers curl around your cock. “I want to feel you inside me. Raw. Fuck me raw, Daddy.”
You tremble. Your cock twitches in her grasp.
“Fuck, Ryujin-”
“Take it off, Daddy. Let me feel you. Let me feel you cum inside me. Don’t you want to…”
“I do, Ryujin, fuck-”
“Do it, Daddy. Cum inside me. Breed me.”
That’s what undoes you. Your fingers work quickly, peeling the condom off your needy, trembling cock.
You push her back down onto the mattress, and she lets a soft, playful little yelp out at the sudden forcefulness. Her back arches. Her eyes find yours over her shoulder.
“Daddy, please-”
You slide your bare cock inside her. She’s sublime - tight, hot, so very wet. Your hands find her hips, and you’re fucking her again.
“Fuck!” she spits, as you fill her to the hilt for the first time - raw, uncovered - the new angle allowing you deeper inside her than you were when you were on top of her. “Yes, fuck me!”
You comply, your hands anchoring yourself on her hips as you begin to thrust in and out of her tight, slick cunt. You want to pace yourself, want to relish every entry and exit, but the tightness, the wetness, everything about Ryujin Shin is too much, too much to handle. Before long she’s throwing her hips back against you, firmly but steadily, matching you thrust for thrust.
You watch her, burn every inch of her body into your memory - the arch of her back, the sweat dripping down the column of her spine, the way the neon of Seoul’s skyline is striping her skin in alternating lines of shadow and pastel blue. You relish the feel of her body, the tightness of her velvet cunt wrapped around you, the softness of her hips, the moans and sighs that continue to spill wildly from her lips.
For a few minutes you fuck her. Minutes that feel like hours, your pleasure-addled brain suddenly unable to parse the passing of time. The sounds of your bodies meeting, her moans and your grunts, the ridiculous, sublime sight of her bent over, taking your cock - it’s all overwhelming, a heady mix of heat and wetness and pleasure that drives you insane, pulls you into a glorious high that you never want to come down from.
For a few brilliant minutes all that exists is Ryujin Shin’s body. Not the consequences of raw sex, not the complications of your work relationship, not the obstacles in your personal relationship that you’d both have to hurdle once the high of sex has worn off - none of that exists, right here, in this moment. She’s it, she’s all.
Your hands wander her body - gripping her hips and pulling them back toward you, or placing a palm flat on her lower back, or reaching forward with one hand and grasping one of her trembling shoulders - but they settle on her wide, firm hips. Your fingers dig deeper into her skin, surely leaving bruises she’ll feel in the morning. She takes it as the sign of your impending orgasm that it almost certainly is.
“Are you- are you close, Daddy? Fuck, you’re gonna… gonna make me cum again. Don’t stop, please.”
You grit your teeth. There was no denying the pleasure quickly building to a boiling point between your legs.
“Fuck, yeah, baby girl. Getting close. Where-”
“You know where, Daddy,” she hisses, hair whipping around her as she turns her head to look over her shoulder at you. Her eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes you tremble, her gaze holding firm on you even as her body is rocked back and forth with each thrust you make into her cunt.
“Ryujin-”
“Cum inside me, Daddy. Breed me.”
“Fuck-”
“Daddy, please - breed me, breed this cunt, cum inside me please, fuck I’m gonna cum too cum with me please, breed me-”
Ryujin cums - and you do too. Her body spasms, quivers, turns into a tight, wet, slick vice around your cock and all you can do is bury yourself as deeply as you can inside her before you let go.
Your cock pulsates as it sends thick, warm ropes of semen into Ryujin’s cunt - each one drawing a soft gasp from her, each one sending a jolt of pleasure up her spine that heightens her own orgasm. Your mind blanks, and nothing else exists aside from the pleasure coursing through your body.
When your eyes finally open some indeterminate amount of time later you look down to find another one of the many sights you wanted to burn into your memory - Ryujin bent over on the bed, chest and head pressed to the mattress. Between the reddened cheeks of her ass, your cock slowly withdraws, slick and wet and glistening. The well-used lips of her cunt grip your cock tightly, as though not wanting to let you go just yet.
When your tip finally slips from between her lips it’s quickly followed by a rush of warm, thick cum, dripping freely from her cunt and onto the pristine sheets below her.
Ryujin finally falls onto her side. You fall onto yours beside her. Your eyes find each other. Her hand comes up to your cheek, cradles the side of your face with a tenderness that surprises the both of you.
There is a warm smile on her lips. Her eyes glisten for a moment in the low light of the bedroom before she brings her body close to yours, tucking her head beneath your chin as your arms wrap around each other.
There are words to be said, conversations to be had. But all that matters now is the warmth of her body against yours, and the feel of her breath against your chest. Everything else can wait, and so it will.
“Stay,” she says into your chest, and so you do.
---
“I’m on the pill,” she says, on the taxi ride to the Seoul office. The morning after was awkward in some parts, sweet in others; after an uneasy parting so you could go back to your room to shower and change, you’d both met again in the lobby - both a little unsure how to navigate the uncharted waters, but knowing only that things had changed for the better between you.
“Would’ve been nice to know that before I went in raw,” you say, in English - sparing the driver an awkward few blocks of Seoul rush hour traffic.
Ryujin smiles, slyly. “Sure, but it was hot not knowing, wasn’t it? Knowing you could have bred me last night?”
She leans in closer to whisper into your ear - the way she whispered business translations, the way she whispered how close she was to orgasm.
“...knowing you could have put a baby in me?”
She leans back in her seat, giving you one last look before turning her attention to the buildings of downtown Seoul.
Your pinky fingers brush against each other on the seat. You hook yours in hers, and she doesn’t pull away.
---
To her credit, Ryujin was professional and effective with her translation duties throughout the day - mostly. It’s during a presentation by the Seoul office’s Legal lead that her facade cracks.
“...There have been some issues related to IP that they’ve had to deal with,” she says softly in your ear. “But they’ve been dealt with- …fuck.”
You turn to face her. There’s a small grimace on her face. She adjusts the way she’s sitting on her chair, her legs crossing and uncrossing beneath her pencil skirt.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says, bringing her lips close to your ear as if to continue translating whatever the Legal lead was droning on about. “But every time I move, a bit of you leaks out of me. Gonna need to clean up in the washroom after this meeting.”
You’re speechless. The smirk on her lips is a victorious one.
“Anyway,” she continues, “the other thing they’ve had to deal with is patent trolls…”
The rest of the meeting goes in your ear and out the other, every small movement Ryujin makes in her seat stealing all of your attention. When the presentation ends Ryujin stands, gingerly, and excuses herself to the washroom. You watch her leave the room with a slightly awkward gait.
Across the room, Yuna catches your eye. She flashes you a knowing smile.
---
The work day ends, eventually - not that you got any work done at all.
After work, Ryujin is waiting for you in the lobby, scrolling her phone. As you approach she holds it out to you - on it is a Google search listing of several nearby restaurants.
“Feeling like burgers? Or more Korean food? It’s Friday night, so it’s gonna be busy, but there’s a place nearby-”
“No,” you answer, firmly, already walking past her and out the door.
“But dinner--?”
“Room service,” you answer. “Hotel, now.”
A devilish smile pulls at the corners of Ryujin’s lips as she hails a taxi.
In the hotel elevator, you don’t bother pushing the button for her floor.
---
You’re on each other from the moment you cross the threshold of your suite - lips crashing against each other, hands wandering, undressing. You only get as far as her blazer before she’s pushing you down onto the chair facing the floor-to-ceiling window that makes up one side of your suite.
She stands in front of you, silhouetted by Seoul’s glass and concrete skyline, and undresses.
The tight white button-up first, each button revealing a little more perfect vanilla skin, marred only by the marks your lips and teeth left the night before. Soon it’s a pool of white cotton on the floor, joined quickly by her white lace bra. Her small, perky round breasts tremble slightly under your gaze, her nipples already taut and tight.
She turns to face away from you, topless, exposing herself to the city - as she undoes the zipper holding her pencil skirt tight around her wide hips. She takes her time, making you watch, making you want, as the skirt finds its way onto the floor.
When Ryujin faces you again she’s naked save for lace panties that have been tormenting her all day with their damp stickiness. Eyes locked on you the whole while, she hooks her thumbs into the thin lace and slides them down her full, round thighs, then past her knees, until they pool on the floor and she is naked, with only Seoul’s fluorescent and neon lights to clothe her.
She steps toward you, straddles you in the chair. Your hands find her hips, soothing the bruises your grip had left there hours before.
Her hand drifts between her spread thighs. You watch, enraptured, as her middle and ring fingers slide inside her cunt for a moment. Her eyes shut, her head tilts back as she touches herself.
When her fingers emerge, they glisten.
“Look what you did to me,” she says, softly. “I’ve been dripping you all day, Daddy. But now… now I’m empty. Need you to fill me up again.”
“Ryujin. Fuck,” you stammer, because it’s all you can say, all your brain can muster for a response.
She smiles, your weakness giving her confidence. Her hands work quickly at your belt and slacks, and soon she reveals your cock, already stiff and weeping pre-cum. You groan at the feel of her soft fingers around your shaft as she strokes you softly, timing each movement of her wrist to the sultry words leaving her lips.
“Want you to fuck me again, Daddy, and raw and deep and hard. But first…”
She bends to kiss you - only to ignore your lips entirely, as she slinks down off the chair and onto her knees.
“-first, I want to taste you.”
She licks a long, slow stripe from your base to your tip, her tongue flat and tight against your cock.
“Wanted that for so long, Daddy. During orientation. Watching you in the office. Been dreaming about what you’d taste like-”
“Do I taste like you dreamed, Ryujin?”
“Fuck, yes, Daddy,” she says, after another long, slow lick. “Even better.”
“Suck my cock then, baby girl. Show me how much you wanted this.”
The words spur her, challenge her - and soon she’s taking your cock into her mouth. It’s all you can do to lean back in the chair and sigh as she works between your spread legs, taking you in and out of her wet, slick mouth with an enthusiasm that had been boiling over months of want and need.
When you open your eyes again it’s to look out at Seoul’s skyline. You watch as cars move on distant roads, as signs for restaurants and stores light up, as people on faraway sidewalks make their way home. You do anything but look down at Ryujin, knowing that the sight of her combined with the pleasure she is conjuring between your legs would be too much to handle, all at once.
You sigh. This was messy. Complicated. Might end up ruining one or both of your lives. But fuck if it mattered at all, right here, right now - with your cock in her mouth and a soft sigh escaping her lips as you finally look down and watch as she begins to finger herself.
She lets your cock slip from her lips after one last, slow suckle. Her tongue flicks around your tip one last time. Then she stands, eyes half-lidded, filled with want and need. She straddles you again and lowers herself onto your cock.
You think of bending to suckle from one of her soft, perky little breasts as they bounce up and down, inches from your face. You want to reach a hand up to that pale, thin throat of hers and squeeze with just enough pressure to make her gasp for her next breath. You want to reach down with both palms and squeeze her ass, thrusting up with your hips each time she impales herself on you - but you do none of those things.
You watch. Watch as she rides you, takes you in and out of her dripping, pulsing cunt. Watch as Seoul paints her slim, tight body in gold and shadow. Watch as she ruins herself, ruins you with something that is reckless, stupid, and utterly irresistible, all at the same time.
Her hands aren’t idle, like yours are. They fondle her own breasts, pinch her own nipples. They reach forward and anchor herself on your shoulders, or dig furrows into your hair when she brings you close and increases her pace. They lie flat, palm against your chest, feeling your heart hammer a wild beat as she slows down again, bringing her face in front of yours so your noses touch, fucking herself slowly, passionately on your cock, making you feel everything.
You wanted to talk to her, wanted to discuss this idiotic thing that you were both giving in to. You want to have a conversation about what it would mean for your professional and personal relationship. You want to ask her if this was a stupid fling borne out of a stupid week of meetings that happened a year ago. You want to ask her if this was just sex or-
“Fuck, Daddy, I’m gonna-”
Her voice - her perfect fucking voice - shatters any thought you might have had that wasn’t focused on the pleasure she was creating for the both of you with every movement of her body.
“Me too, Ryujin, fuck, you’re too-”
“Daddy, breed me, give me a baby-”
A lie, a pretend act - but no less arousing. No less utterly devastating to what remained of your self-control.
“Gonna cum, Ryujin. Ryujin--”
“Daddy--!”
She cums. You spasm beneath her as your cock fills her up. Afterward, when you’ve both stopped trembling, you feel your cum drip from her stuffed cunt, down your balls, and onto the leather of the couch.
She slides off you - and you both watch as her cunt drips more of your cum onto the couch and the slacks that you never bothered to remove. She takes you by the hand and leads you into the bedroom, into another terrible mistake, another act you will probably both regret later, when sanity somehow finds its way back into your lust-addled minds.
You follow her willingly into ruin.
---
It’s not until the next morning, as you wander a morning market together after breakfast, when you finally have your talk.
“Ryujin,” you begin, as the two of you walk down the street, past stalls selling vegetables, treats, and souvenirs. “We should talk. About this. About us.”
She sighs, takes a sip from her caramel macchiato - extra whipped cream, extra caramel drizzle - as though the caffeine and sugar would fortify her for what was about to be said.
“I want you,” she says, confidently, as though it were a phrase she’d rehearsed with her eyes closed as she lay in bed alone, dreaming of a moment like this. “I’ve wanted you since the second you walked into that meeting room in that stupid-hot suit on my first day and said your name. I’ve wanted you every second since. I want to be with you.”
You take a moment. Your heart leaps, but your brain fears.
“I want you too,” you admit, the words leaving your mouth quickly, even before you knew you were speaking them - your heart outpacing your brain, as it had gained the habit of doing around her. “But-”
“-we work together,” she interrupts. Another sip of her caffeine. Her eyes remain locked on the stalls hawking hotteok and japchae. “You’re a Director in Strategy, I’m just some newbie in Marketing. You’re older than me. Your boss is holding a torch for you, and she’s fucking perfect - ‘girlboss’ in all caps. HR will have a fit. Our colleagues will whisper; say you’re taking advantage of a younger girl, or that I’m sleeping my way into a promotion. And maybe one day we’ll end up hurting each other, and ruin one or both of our careers and/or lives in the process.”
You don’t reply. The list is long. Daunting.
Finally, she turns to you. There is a faint smile on her lips. “Did I miss anything?”
You return her smile with a slim one of your own. “No,” you admit.
“Are you for real, or do you just need a fucktoy to keep your cock warm while you’re working overseas for a month?”
Her question stuns you, catches you unprepared. But it takes you only a moment of consideration before you answer.
“I’m not sure yet,” you answer, honestly. “But I want to find out.”
Something between a smile and a frown forms her lips as she casts her eyes downward for a moment.
“That’s good enough for me,” she says. “Because that’s what I want too.”
“It won’t be easy.”
“But I want you, and you want me.”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s it,” she states, eyes forward, as though the future of your relationship existed somewhere amidst the winding lanes of the bustling market. “That’s all that matters.”
After a few more steps, your hand finds hers. Your fingers intertwine.
“That’s all that matters,” you repeat. “We’ll figure this out.”
She turns to look at you as you walk through the market. She smiles and says nothing further, because nothing further needed to be said.
---
A week and a half pass quickly. Meetings, meals, sex - it all passes in a long, hazy blur. There are candlelit dinners at Michelin-starred restaurants by the Han River, and there are nights having instant noodles outside convenience stores at 2am because you were both too lazy to have or make anything else. There is slow love making, hard, fast fucking, and everything inbetween.
The two of you navigate that first week together with the kind of eagerness and enthusiasm that is in great supply at the start of a relationship. In some ways it is like every other first week of every other relationship you’d ever been in - sweet, hot, exciting in a way that nothing else can be. In some ways it is completely different, completely unique.
Ryujin was not like any other girl. She was professional and proper during the day and wild and needy at night - and you saw it all, every moment, a gradual transformation over the course of the day from dedicated and thorough businesswoman to the barely controlled wantonness of the night. Throughout it all she is confident, self-assured, assertive.
But she was also sweet, caring, and thoughtful in her own unique way. She knew you, already. She asked questions during presentations even before you voiced them to her, because she knew they were questions you would ask. Without telling you, she bought you a spare charger for your phone when yours broke five days into the trip - and made sure a charged power bank was packed in your suitcase when you left the hotel room in the morning. She showed genuine interest in you - your childhood, your family, your quirky hobbies, as though she were writing a book on you and wanted to know every single detail, every single story you had to tell.
“I want you,” she said once, sometime during the second week of this ridiculous, dangerous, stupid thing you were both undertaking. Her head was on your chest as you lie together in bed atop a mattress soaked with evidence of recent lovemaking, her finger tracing random patterns on your skin above your heart. “And that includes figuring out what you keep in here.”
Neither of you knew what this was, where it would go, even how long it would last - whether the other was a terrible mistake, the love of your life, or something inbetween. You only knew you wanted to find out together, one day at a time.
It’s not until your last day in Seoul, when the two of you attend an industry gala, that Ryujin Shin inched a little more towards the ‘love of your life’ end of the scale.
---
The elevator door opens - she insisted you meet in the lobby, as she needed a few more minutes to get ready - and there she is, in a little black dress that steals the breath from your lungs. Simple, demure, utterly captivating. You realize that the ‘few more minutes to work on her hair’ was an excuse, and she just wanted to make an entrance.
The smile on her lips is confident, assured, as is every click-clack of her heels on the marble of the hotel foyer as she walks up to you, takes your hand, and leads you out to the waiting taxi - all without saying a word.
The gala, held in an outdoor venue with plenty of string lights and stand-up tables, is busier than you’d expected. Colleagues from the Seoul office are in attendance, including Yuna in a bold red dress that’s one inch off the hemline away from sparking multiple emails to HR - if it hadn’t already. She comes close to the two of you and says she’s happy for you, shooting you both a wink as she saunters off to chat up a group of investors that spend the rest of the evening vying for her attention.
For most of the evening your mind is elsewhere - on Ryujin’s dress, and what it will look like hiked up around her hips or on the floor of your suite. Your thoughts drift to the trip to Japan, and the two weeks to follow. A new country to explore with her by your side.
You’re mid-conversation with a couple of staff from the Seoul office, and about ready to lean over to Ryujin and ask if she’s ready to head back to the hotel, when a commotion at the entrance to the venue steals your attention for a moment.
Yuna and a couple of the other leads are huddled in a crowd around a figure that has emerged from a sleek black sedan. They chat excitedly, as though they were meeting a celebrity for the first time.
“Go see who it is,” Ryujin urges. “I’ll get us a drink for the road, then we can hit it.”
You excuse yourself from the conversation to join Yuna and the others. The crowd parts, and she emerges.
T.W.: This story contains themes of terminal illness, talks about death, and emotional distress.
A/N: Played around with the formatting, formatted for mobile reading.
"I'm home," you call out into the dark room, eerily quiet, starved of light. The dark was unusual, unexpected—unnatural.
Few steps forward, each footfall weighed unease. You found yourself in the living room
"Darling?" Again your voice is swallowed by the empty living room.
Then—suddenly—light floods the space, blinding you. Before your eyes adjust, sharp pop cracks through the silence.
"Surprise!!"
A familiar voice rings out. You turn, heart pounding, only to see her peeking out from behind the kitchen counter—apron still on, gloves half-removed, hair loosely tied back. Her laughter, that unmistakable laugh, spills into the air, filling the once-eerie silence with warmth.
"For what?" The tension in your chest eases, you smile, bewildered, as you continue toward the couch.
She pulls off her gloves, untying the apron with practiced ease before rounding the counter to meet you. "For the birthday, of course."
"Birthday? That's tomorrow?" Bewildered but exhausted, you drop onto the couch.
Rei follows, sinking beside you before resting her head on your lap. "Yeah, I wanted to surprise you."
You blink down at her, still trying to piece together her logic. "Yeah, you did... but it's your birthday."
She grins smugly, eyes oozing with pride—like she'd ‘got’ you.
“So, what did you cook?” You play along.
“Surprise me.”
She hands you her phone, screen already open to a delivery app, order page waiting.
You glance back at her, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"
She shrugs. "I used up all my energy deciding what to cook."
You exhale a small laugh, shaking your head. dialing your orders, "We've been married for how many years?"—a rhetorical question—"and I still haven’t figured out how your mind works."
"You’re just not reading hard enough."
Before you can protest, she reaches up, fingers threading through your hair, and pulls you down.
Her lips meet yours—soft, familiar, and laced with quiet laughter.
Excitedly, you blindly reach for the paper bag beside you, pulling out a stuffed toy, small, but enough to cover her face. “It’s a bit early, but…” You present it to her, holding it up beside her face. "Here. Doesn't it look like you?"
A yellow duck, its tiny fabric twintails mirroring hers.
She squints at it, then at you. The resemblance is uncanny—even she can’t deny it. Instead, she pouts.
You chuckle, gently patting her hair. She naturally leans into your palm, settling there like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
"So, what do you want to do for tomorrow?"
She blinks, off guarded by the question.
"I requested a day off, of course. Simple picnic by the river?"
She scrunches her nose. "No… too many people exist these days.”
“Then… fancy dinner, just you and me?”
She snorts, eyes half-lidded with amusement. "You can only say that if you actually have money to spend."
"Ouch." You clutch your chest in mock offense. "Dinner at home it is then, let's—no, I'll cook for you this time."
She smirks. "Is that a mating display? Because it's working."
“Is that so?” You lean down, internding a gentle peck, but she surges forward, her lip’s hunger devouring any softness you’d planned. The kiss deepens, urgent and consuming, until you both pull apart, breathless and flushed.
She smiles—a triumphant, knowing curve of her lips. This time she really got you. “You think I was joking?”
Rising from your lap, she holds your gaze, her eyes sly, alluring. With fluid grace, she settled back into you, stradling your thighs. Her arms are already working your belt.
“You’re tired. Relax” She kisses you again, just as drawing as before— a pull you can’t resist. When she finally breaks away, her breath touches your face as she whispers, “My gift to you. I need to remind you why you need to pay the bills.”
Her hands are already done with your pants, pulling down your briefs, releasing your cock. Now her hands stroke your length.
“Rei…” your body surrenders.
Fully erect in her grasp. Rei shifts, lifting her hips, her fingers setting aside panties beneath her skirt. She guides your tip pressing in into her slick folds, teasing just at her entrance—coating you with her arousal, warm and wet.
“Fuck… Rei…”
Satisfied with her teasing, she lowers herself, hips sinking down to yours. Her walls clench around you, tight and welcoming, enveloping your cock in heat. She pauses, letting the moment to settle, her breath hitch faintly. Then, with a slow roll of her hips, she begins to grind, drawing you deeper.
Small whimpers from her lips are enough to fill the room. Her hands cradle your face, drawing you closer to her lips, muting her moan as you kiss. ”Give it to me darling.” her voice full of need. Her forehead pressed against yours, her breaths hot and ragged. “Fill me up….”
Her pace quickens, hips grinding with desperate need, her walls tightening around you. “Rei…” The pressure builds fast, the nearing you limit faster than you expect. She nods, breathless—”Do it.” One final thrust shatters you both: she cries out, trembling as she clenches around you, and you release inside her, a sharp, dizzying rush.
Panting, she slumps against you, her body pressed close, the air heavy with your mingled breaths. Then, a soft laugh rumbles in her chest. She lifts her head, meeting your puzzled look with a mischievous smile. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect us both to be in such a rush.”
Her point draws a grin from you, and you lean in toward her lips.
“You missed,” she teases, tilting her head just out of reach. “Try again.”
Rei. Your wife. The love of your life.
As eccentric as she was, she was the sunshine in your every day.
Life wasn’t perfect. But with her, every day was.
Almost a year has passed since then.
You swore to do your best, to stay with her for the rest of her life, to stay with her until the end, to stay with her until her final year.
Timed by her Ill fate.
—-
You walk—dragging your steps from work to the hospital, pausing just before the door. You take a deep breath, forcing a half-smile onto your face. A routine you've practiced in a year’s time.
You slide the door open.
Rei sits on the bed, pillows stacked behind her back—an effort to ease the pain with comfort. Her gaze is distant, locked onto something far beyond the window. Her frame looks even smaller against the sterile white sheets, the IV lines hanging high trailing down to her arm like threads tethering her to this world. A headset covers her ears, a barrier between her and reality.
The hospital room now is the usual yet unexpected—unnatural.
"Rei…" you call, waving just at the edge of her vision.
"Shit!" A muttered curse, barely audible but meant to be heard. She doesn’t turn to you. Instead, she pulls out her phone, avoiding your face. "Didn’t I tell you to knock?!"
"Ah, sorry! I—" You hold onto your smile. "Have you eaten yet?"
She clicks her tongue, impatient, clearly letting you know she’s annoyed. With a sigh, she pulls her headphones down to her neck.
"The laundry is over there. Take it and leave." She gestures toward the foot of the bed.
You step forward to grab the basket—only for a cloth to be thrown over your head.
It doesn’t hurt. It shouldn’t. Yet—.
You peel the fabric off and toss it into the basket, looking up to meet her glare. Her eyes are sharp, dark, as if warning that she would throw harder if not for her condition.
She quickly turns away after meeting your eyes.
The best you can offer is a smile.
What you feel is insignificant compared to what she’s going through.
"Then I’ll get going so you can rest," your smile widening—perhaps to cover the pain swelling in your eyes. "Keep fighting, okay? Your schedule for your next treatment is soon."
She turns away, curling into her blankets.
"You don’t have to tell me," she mutters. "That’s all I can do. Fight… only to die later."
The words sting, finally cracking your false smile. But worse than the words themselves is the fact that you have no comfort to offer her. Nothing that would make a difference.
All you can do is walk away.
"Wait." Her voice stops you just as you reach the door. Still turned away, she adds, "Leave my allowance in the drawer."
You check your wallet, counting the bills. In the end, you leave most of the money, only keeping just enough for yourself.
Just before leaving, you hesitate.
"Hey, Rei—" But before you can finish, she’s already on the phone.
"Can you believe my husband?!" she complains, voice laced with frustration. "He’s the worst. Can’t he be a bit more considerate? Everytime, I have to explain to him… ugh, all men are the same."
You stand there for a second longer.
Then, quietly "Ah… sorry. I’m going home."
And you close the door behind you.
—-
“I’m ho—” The words die in your throat.
The dim home greets you in silence. The same home that once brimmed with warmth, with laughter, with the light of the person who made it all feel alive.
Now, it stands hollow, as usual, as expected, yet it feels unnatural.
You drop onto the couch—the same couch where the two of you used to laze around on slow weekends, tangled in blankets and each other.
~~~~
“If I stare hard enough, you think the meaning of life will show up?”
Rei’s voice, soft and amused, drifts through your memory. She lies by the couch, absently staring at the ceiling, her expression caught between curiosity and boredom.
“What are you up to now?” you ask, approaching with two cups of coffee.
She straightened up with your voice, reaching for the mug with both hands. You sit beside her, your eyes drifting toward the morning view beyond the window.
She takes a careful sip, then pauses. “…Why are you staring?” A suspicious look crosses her face. “If this kills me, you’re paying for my funeral.”
She drinks anyway, watching you over the rim of her mug.
“Not bad.”
“That’s it? I paid extra for this,” you huff, taking a sip from her cup just to confirm. “My co-workers swore this was “‘the’” coffee.”
“Why are you pretending like there’s a difference?”
~~~~
And she's right, there wasn’t. As now, you sit in the same spot, sipping the same coffee, in the same silence, the only thing illuminating the room is the dim glow of a single lamp.
You don’t need a bright room. It’s just an extra expense.
You don’t need the internet, or cable, or dinner.
You finish your coffee muted in its taste, convincing yourself it’s enough.
You don’t need a meal.
You don’t need—
You close your eyes, gripping the empty mug in your hands.
…You don’t need to think about it.
You shift your focus to your phone, scrolling through your expenses. Your balance barely hovers above zero. A quiet sigh of relief escapes you—at least for now, you’ve made it through. Your abstinence hasn’t been for nothing.
Your eyes scan the list, searching for anything you can shave off.
Hospital bills? Out of the question.
Bus fare? Maybe you could walk some distance.
Groceries? You’ve been stretching meals thinner each week—maybe instant noodles again.
Allowance?
A significant amount. Rei would always ask for it during every visit. You gave it without question, but even now, you don’t understand—why would a patient need that much money anyway?
No. You quickly shake off the thought. Now isn't the time for that. You’re just exhausted. The constant headaches aren’t helping, making your mind wander into places it shouldn't go.
You close your eyes again, hoping sleep will clear your thoughts as easily as it dims your vision.
Sleep—it’s your only escape.
Clear from problems.
Clear from worries.
Clear from responsibilities.
Clear from exhaustion.
Clear from her—
R e i , W h e n w i l l y o u d i e ?
The thought jolts you awake, scared.
Not because it was a nightmare to be afraid of.
But because you’re terrified it might have been a dream.
A fantasy that someday you fear you might say out loud.
—-
A buzz from the edge of your desk pulls you from work. Even from afar you recognize the sender instantly.
You press on your temples attempting to press back your splitting head. Skipping lunch to save money—bad idea. You regret it, but regrets won’t help. The afternoon is only halfway through, and you still have hours to go before you can rest.
With a sigh as you tilt your head back, resting your eyes for a second.
Rei.
~~~~
“I thought of you”
~~~~
You relive the time from before this ailing plight, when a single message from her was enough to push you through work.
You open your phone, yearning for that illusion.
“Just bring me a cake later, I don't want to hear any of your superficial cheering.”
Your heart sinks deep with her demand, more disappointed to yourself, expecting something more. Regardless you move forward, you had no choice, even if you had you couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't.
—-
You find yourself walking the same hospital corridor again.
As you near the nurses' station, their voices drift into earshot.
“…Have you seen Mrs. Naoi’s husband?”
“He never fails to visit her. Tragic, she’s so young yet, constant treatment…”
“She just did one, out of all days it has to be at her birthday—”
They stop when they notice you.
You offer a small, awkward smile. “For my wife… Is her treatment done? I’m a bit early today.”
One of the nurses brightens. “She just got transferred back to her room. I can let her know you’re here—”
“No,” you cut in gently. “Let her rest. I’ll wait outside.”
Your steps halt just before her door, mistakenly left slightly open.
Tying to close the door, your eyes naturally peered inside.
Rei lies on her side, facing the wall. Her breathing, slow, serene. Asleep, you assume. Sapped by the therapy, lost in some dream removed from her decaying sitch.
You start to pull the door shut, slowly so as to not make a sound.
“It hurts.”
Your hands freeze on the handle.
A voice, you easily could’ve missed if it was not from inside, if it was not from pain, if it was not from hers.
You should close the door. Let her rest. Pretend you didn’t hear.
But before you can step away, a quiet laugh follows. Careful. Restrained. Afraid.
“Ah… that's annoying, even laughing now feels painful”
You know she would want you to ignore it, to walk away like you heard nothing. But your body refuses to listen. Instead, you step inside.
“You know what's more annoying? My husband.”
Rei shifts slightly, sitting up, still unaware of your presence. Her gaze is fixed downward, her fingers curled around the small stuffed toy you gave her on her birthday.
“He looks so pathetic, it's so annoying.”
She exhales shakily, as if saying the words aloud solidifies the reality she's been trying to swallow.
“It makes me mad, I can't help but throw a tantrum because I know the reason why that is… Me. His ailing wife.”
Her thumb idly traces the plush toy’s fabric.
"I know I’ve been mean. Selfish. Asking for everything, even though I'll leave." She speaks to the toy, her voice trembling. "I’m a bad wife, aren’t I? Making him suffer with me."
You see her forced smile wavers, then fades completely.
"When I learned about my illness, I first thought of the future… Not mine… His."
She tightens her grip on the toy. "And I decided. I’m going to be the absolute worst. So that when it’s over, he’ll think—" a breath, a pause, then—
"'Ah, I’m glad it’s finally over.'"
A grim joke, yet she laughs. Tears slipped down her cheeks, soaking into the plush fabric.
"I want him to enjoy the rest of his life. Not be a widower."
Her voice is barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of her confession. "Pathetic, isn’t it? Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t look him in the eyes… otherwise, I’d break."
She buries her face into the toy, once again Rei obstructs her face from your sight, as she had always done all this time.
"But… It's working. Little by little, I can feel it—he’s losing his feelings for me."
She clutches the plush tighter, sobs muffled against the fabric.
"So please." Her voice is strained, desperate. "Please… keep this a secret between us."
Before she can say another word, you rush forward, as you try to snatch the toy away.
"Rei!!"
Your voice comes out sharp, raw with emotion. Are you angry? Hurt? Betrayed? You don’t know. You don’t care.
All you know is that your wife—the love of your life—is breaking right in front of you.
And you refuse to let her do it alone. Not after what you've heard. Not anymore.
She flinches as you step forward, quickly turning away.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Knock before you come in!”
She still won’t look at you. Even now, when you finally understand why.
“What you just said—”
"I don’t need the cake anymore." Her arms tighten around the stuffed animal. "Just leave. You’re disturbing my rest."
If she’s going to keep playing pretend, then so will you.
“If you're just going to stand there, then just leave already”
You ignore her. Instead, you step forward and wrap your arms around her from behind, holding her close.
"Listen carefully." Your voice is steady, even as everything inside you trembles. "This is what you wanted to hear, right?”
“‘I hate you.’”
“‘Why are you still here?’”
“‘Just die already.’"
You press your forehead against her shoulder, your voice barely above a whisper.
"I’m begging you.’”
She shatters.
So do you.
Tears fall. Her grip tightens. Crying echoes through the small hospital room. Emotion flows in choked sobs, in words neither of you fully mean but can’t stop from spilling.
"I wanna die right now…"
"Okay."
"You’re the worst."
"I see."
"Let go of me. Just leave already."
"Sure."
Neither of you move.
At that moment, it feels as if the time has turned to what was a year ago.
Maybe because that was the day when your wife—Rei’s greatest shenanigans—came to an end.
—-
You step into the house, slipping off your shoes at the entrance.
"I'm home," you call out, your voice carrying into the quiet. The afternoon light filters through the windows, painting the walls in warm, golden hues—soft, familiar, inviting.
The scene of your home, usual, expected, natural.
You can't help but take a deep breath out of relief.
Your feet move on instinct, following a path you’ve walked countless times before. But this time, you stop just short.
A small shrine sits before you.
The plush duck sits at the center, its small form nearly lost beneath the weight of her headphones. You remember how you pout whenever you tell her it looked like her. Now, it leans against something held close in its embrace, something smooth, something quiet.
You pat the duck’s head, just as you once did with her. But it doesn’t fit your hand the same way. It doesn’t lean into your touch, doesn’t ask for more. It only sits there—steady, unmoving, permanent.
You exhale slowly, a smile tugging at your lips—gentle, aching.
"I'm home, Rei."
A/n: Part of suchsweetstories' prompt event! This one's for Valentine Drifter. (This is the smut version.)
“Stop thinking,” Wonyoung’s palm ripped across your cheek, leaving a mark that you would most definitely feel the next morning. “And stop wasting my fucking time.”
Tonight was going to be one for the history books, you thought to yourself silently, taking a moment to appreciate how you ended up in this position.
Your work had required you to show up at this formal event full of young adults who had more money than sense and obnoxiously rich old people. Admittedly, not that you weren’t well off by any means, you did feel incredibly out of place. Your job was to just show up and shake a few hands to make sure it was known that your company was present, other than that you were free to ‘enjoy’ the event. While most of the ambitious young people here were trying to make connections to further their careers, you found it difficult to pretend to care.
The venue was quite the spectacle, a blend of classic architecture and modern elegance, but it lacked any sort of soul. Lush velvet drapes framed the tall windows, each showcasing a view of the meticulously landscaped gardens outside. The gardens, though beautiful, appeared untouched, as if meant only for admiration rather than exploration. Overall, the venue exuded an air of extravagance, yet it felt almost too perfect - as if it were a stage made of artificial props.
Just like the atmosphere of the lavish mansion was void of allure, the people inside lacked any form of charm. Despite being impeccably dressed, they seemed to embody the very definition of tedium. Their expressions a mix of forced politeness and mild disinterest. Conversations unfolded in monotones, punctuated by the occasional polite chuckle that felt rehearsed rather than genuine.
That was, at least, until your eyes found Wonyoung. She was a princess amongst peasants - a diamond amongst coal. From the moment you saw her roaming from waiter to waiter, collecting every hors d'oeuvre she could get her hands on while impressively avoiding the dreary conversations plaguing the event, you just knew you had to talk to her.
The greatest surprise of them all? Once you finally managed to find an opening, you discovered she was actually amazing. Not just amazing, but perfect in a way. The two of you clicked instantly, it was marvelous. Never have you in your entire life felt your energy match so instantaneously with someone before. It almost - no, it definitely - made this lifeless event worth your time.
That being said, this tiny little girl had no business being this intimidating. It had to be her thanks to her confidence, something she was far from lacking, wearing a dress that barely made it to her thighs, flashing her lacy black panties to the entire world. She just had this aura, it was difficult to explain. Yet, it was even more difficult to say no to whatever she wanted, which was exactly how you found yourself in this position. Well, truthfully, her convincing nature was in part aided by the countless glasses of pretentiously priced champagne coursing through your veins.
Regardless, even if it was by pure chance, you were grateful to have been selected from the sea of Dior Sauvage that was currently downstairs, still flailing their bodies around in the name of ‘dancing’. In the seven or so minutes between your eyes finding Wonyoung and the start of your conversation with her, you had seen her reject at least four advances. But you knew. The second you made eye contact with her, you knew.
“Are you going to close the door or do you plan on standing there like an idiot all night?” she scowled as she bent down and slipped off her stilettos.
By the time you shut the door behind you - making sure to lock it - Wonyoung had walked across the room towards the dresser by the window and had begun using the mirror to adjust her hair. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room anymore, and you, evidently, weren’t nearly as important as her hair.
The long brown strands cascading delicately down her back, flowing like a river of rich chocolate. Each individual hair shimmering as the moonlight hit from countless angles. The elegance, the grace, every movement further accentuating all the reasons this girl had to be the most supercilious woman in the building. Again, this girl had every right to be as confident as she was.
After who knows how long she spent admiring herself in the mirror, she turned on her heels to face you. A subtle frown formed on her lips as she crossed her arms, giving you a concerned look. Maybe it wasn’t concern, but it was something.
“You’re bleeding.”
Not what you expected her to say, but the scarlet smear left on your finger when you wiped your cheek confirmed it was indeed true. Only now did the sound of your heart thumping calm down enough for you to notice the sharp stinging coming from the cut.
“Huh, would you look at that,” you noted, staring at your finger.
Wonyoung stared down at her hand, where the metal band of one of her rings was blatantly stained with a patch of your blood. She looked away, spinning the ring off her finger and placing it on the dresser behind her. It seemed as though she was considering an apology, but she also didn't seem to comprehend the concept. It made you think - has this princess of a girl ever offered an apology to anyone before?
After grabbing a tissue, she crossed the room and approached you. She dabbed at your cheek, cleaning the wound. She didn't even look up at you; rather, her determined expression was fixated on the cut. Once she finished, she took your hand and wiped the blood off your finger as well before she crossed the room once more, tossing the tissue in the garbage and turning back to stare at you.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you replied, trying your best to hold back your smile.
“That was an accident,” she continued, stepping slowly until she was directly in front of you.
“It’s fine.”
“I wasn’t apologizing.”
“Oh.”
Words hung suspended between the two of you as the palpable silence enveloped you. Ignoring the minor inconvenience of her assault, Wonyoung brought you into this room for a reason. Unspoken desire filled the air as your eyes locked together. The speaking part was taken care of, that happened downstairs, now was time for action. Yet, for some reason, both of you stood there waiting for the other, a ridiculous game of chicken since you both knew what the other wanted.
“What are you waiting for?” Wonyoung clicked her tongue, finally conceding.
Good question. The answer, the one you just knew Wonyoung was looking for, came when you picked her up in your arms and tossed her onto the king-sized mattress. Before any more noise could follow up the high-pitched squeak of shock that escaped her lips, you took off your coat and fell on top of her body and sealed your lips against hers.
A surge of heat ignited between you and Wonyoung. The connection was overwhelming, causing the world around you to fade in and out of existence. Each subtle movement of your mouths was full of urgency, as if time itself had paused. The fact that you met this girl barely an hour ago had not an ounce of relevance in your mind.
While the pain in your cheek was a long forgotten souvenir, a new piercing sensation shot up your spine as Wonyoung’s nails dug deep into your back. You gasped into her mouth before biting down on her lip, only for her to bite yours back even harder. The raw, visceral intensity of the coppery essence hitting your taste buds made you lust for her even more - something that, a minute ago, you would not have imagined was conceivable.
Each subtle movement of your tongue was with purpose, exploring the delicate contours of hers, your tongues dancing together with intoxicating urgency. She met each of your movements with her own, even now matching your energy to a tee. The silent conversation consisting of flicks and swirls engulfed the world around you, overpowering even the thumping music downstairs where Mozart had been replaced by some generic club noise of the youth.
While Wonyoung’s hands explored every inch of your back, your own hand began roaming over her curves, tracing her body to give you a perfect image of her frame despite your eyes being closed. As your hands slid past her hips, giving them a rough but quick press with your fingers, your lips parted for the first time.
“Yes,” Wonyoung gasped, her chest heaving up and down against your body.
That was it, all she was going to give you before she reached up with her hands to cup your face, pulling you back into a kiss.
With newfound inspiration, you swiftly slipped your hands up Wonyoung’s dress. As your fingers snaked their way up her thigh towards the waistband of her underwear, they paused for just a second, leaving the smallest hint of timidness. A hint that evaporated into thin air as soon as Wonyoung gasped softly into your mouth, a signal of provocation that filled your hands with boldness.
As difficult as it was, you lifted yourself up away from Wonyoung’s mouth until you were holding yourself right above her. The two of you locked eyes for just a brief second before, in one swift motion, you yanked down the lacy black panties you had been getting peeks of all night.
Wonyoung gasped again, shutting her eyes tight and arching her back towards the roof. You took the opportunity, leaving her panties at her knees, and lunged forward into her neck like a moth to a flame.
Your lips pressed deeply into her skin, absolutely intoxicated by her taste. A mix of sweetness and warmth, a temptation that left you craving more. Each consecutive kiss was met with a hitch of her breath that just made you want her even more.
Inch by inch you moved lower down her body, pressing your mouth against her clavicle a few times before slipping lower into the neckline of her dress. Wonyoung’s slender fingers pressed into the back of your head, shoving your mouth deep into her chest, pressing your face against the thin fabric covering her soft breasts. Urgency began taking over, an insatiable hunger from within, and you began lowering yourself even more. You slid all the way backwards, dropping to your knees at the edge of the bed, and you finally placed your gaze on your true prize.
Just a few irrelevant inches in front of you, Wonyoung’s pussy was there for your taking. Those delicate folds radiating tantalizing allure, glistening with the essence of desires. Each curve of her skin seemed to call to you, urging you to forget everything and to just shove your face as deep up her dress as physically possible.
Then, abruptly, your view was blocked by Wonyoung’s gentle fingers.
“You okay?” you asked, looking up at her as she sat up at the edge of the bed.
All that confidence, that lust, that demand, it all turned to a facade in the span of seconds. In front of you wasn’t that same intimidating princess that you met earlier in the night. It was a vulnerable and beautiful girl. Even after the sudden change, you were still just as attracted to the girl; If anything, you were more attracted to her vulnerable side.
“Wonyoung?”
“Yeah, sorry,” she shook her head and took a deep breath. “I’m good, let’s do this.”
Something just felt a little bit off. Earlier, she was so adamant about fucking you, almost to the point where you were starting to question if she was secretly part of the party’s entertainment. If you hadn’t seen her reject those other guys, you maybe would have believed she was being paid to be here, but still something felt not right.
“If you’re having doubts-”
“No, come on,” Wonyoung interrupted you. “I want this.”
“Then lean back,” you instructed her, deciding to take it slow until you were able to shake this feeling you had.
Wonyoung listened to you and leaned back on the bed, her legs dangling off the edge. You gently spread them apart from the knees, resulting in her tiny dress riding up her body slightly. You softly grabbed her hand and moved it away, unblocking your view of her glistening pussy. As you stared at her pussy again, you helped her untangle her panties from her feet before tossing them across the room without any thought.
Your mouth began salivating uncontrollably, you just needed a taste of Wonyoung’s pussy. Showing just the slightest bit of restraint, you first grabbed both of her hands and interlocked your fingers with hers before pushing forward.
Her whole body shivered as your warm breath teased her skin, igniting the tension in the room into an inferno of heat. As soon as your lips made contact with Wonyoung’s pussy, your world flipped upside down. The subtle - yet intoxicating - taste of tangy sweetness lingered on your tongue, sending waves of warmth through your entire body.
With each exploration of Wonyoung’s pussy, your connection with her deepened. New sensations were discovered, each one hitting like a truck, overwhelming you time after time. You’ve never tasted a pussy that has had you this addicted. You wanted it all - greed began taking over.
Your lips pressed down hard against her skin, creating a seal between you and her. Electricity shot through you as Wonyoung’s breath quickened. Warmth and desire attacked both your taste and hearing now as the next lick of Wonyoung’s tantalizing mix left her moaning into the thickening air of the luxurious bedroom.
“Oh fuck,” Wonyoung moaned softly, squeezing hard against your fingers.
Her addictive sweetness was overwhelming. You were losing track of time, all you could focus on was your attempt to quench this undeniable craving for her body. Nothing could stop you, not as long as she kept responding to each touch, each lick, soft gasps escaping her lips - It was a dangerous loop.
Only a few more - or maybe it was a lot more - moments of pleasure were left for you to enjoy. Before you knew it, Wonyoung’s body seized up, quivering against your lips. A rush of exhilaration surged through you as Wonyoung’s melodic gasps of pleasure began caressing your ears.
It was as if the world had exploded in a cascade of warmth. Her fingers had this newfound strength that made you feel like she was about to snap your hand in half, and her body began to arch even more as every muscle in her body tensed up. The lovely trembling of her body kept your mouth glued to her pussy, sharing in the ecstasy of her climax.
The fulfillment you had coursing through your body as you finally lifted your mouth off her pussy was impossible to compare. You stood up, admiring the absolute mess of a girl laying on the edge of the bed before you. There was no denying it, your cock was begging to be freed, to get a chance with Wonyoung’s body. Just as you unbuckled your pants and began lowering them, the most soul-crushing sound in the universe hit your ears.
“What the hell, who locked this?”
“It shouldn’t be, guests aren’t supposed to be up here,” a second voice answered, giving the door another shake. “Maybe someone locked it earlier. Here, I have a key somewhere.”
“Shit,” you whispered to Wonyoung before quickly buckling your pants back up. “We gotta go.”
She nodded rapidly, suddenly recovering from the intensity of her orgasm just a minute ago, fear filling her pupils as she stood up and froze. You quickly grabbed your jacket and her heels before pointing to the bathroom. Wonyoung ran across the room towards the bathroom as you followed, pausing briefly to shove her ring from the dresser into your pocket - you didn’t want to leave any evidence.
If your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest, you would have loved to admire the beauty of the bathroom. It was like entering a luxurious spa retreat. The air was infused with a subtle blend of essential oils that were supposed to calm you down - unfortunately they weren’t working. The walls, creamy marble decorated with gold highlights, created a feeling of warmth and tranquility - unfortunately this also wasn’t working.
“There,” you pointed towards a massive window above the tub. “Hold these,” you handed Wonyoung her heels.
As you put on your coat quickly, you noticed again just how terrified Wonyoung was. You took a second to pause, ignoring the dire situation you had found yourself in, and leaned forward to give her a quick kiss. Her cheeks burned bright crimson as you turned back to the window, climbing onto the edge of the tub to open it.
“It’s a bit of a jump,” you admitted, looking back over your shoulder as you leaned out the window. “You trust me?”
Wonyoung nodded, still unable to speak. She stepped forward, taking your outstretched hand, and leaned over to look out the window with you.
“I changed my mind,” she gasped, dropping her heels into the tub below you in panic.
“Hey,” you wrapped your arms around her. “I don’t know that much, but I do know the host of this place isn’t one to be messed with.”
“But I’m scared,” she whispered quietly into your chest.
“I know,” you let go of her and held both of her shoulders, staring her directly in the face. “I won’t make you jump, but if you trust me, I’m telling you it’ll be fine.”
She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to the window before returning to you, but then she took a deep breath and nodded.
“Perfect,” you took her heels and dropped them out the window. You could see the pain in her eyes at the delay before the sound of them hitting the grass, but all you could do was smile meekly at her. “Alright, I’m going to go first and then catch you, but then you need to promise me that you’ll be able to jump alone.”
“I promise,” Wonyoung answered with conviction.
“Good girl,” you gave her another kiss before climbing up into the window. The edge was sharper than you expected, and you ended up cutting your hand. “Fuck, be careful, it’s sharp.”
“Got it,” Wonyoung replied, helping support your body as you climbed up.
As carefully and quickly as you could, you grabbed the ledge and lowered your body out the window. After taking a deep breath, looking up at Wonyoung’s face of concern above you, you let go.
All things considered, the fall went as well as it could have. It honestly wasn’t that bad as the soft grass made for a perfect landing spot. Without wasting time inspecting for any injuries, you turned your head upwards to where Wonyoung looked frozen again.
“Come on,” you whispered, knowing that you couldn’t yell. “I got you, just do it.”
Sweat began dripping from your forehead as you began losing hope. She wasn’t going to jump. She was too scared. Your heart began thumping out of your chest. Maybe you should have lowered her down first. Maybe you should have just opened the door and tried to make an excuse.
None of that mattered, though, as suddenly you saw Wonyoung’s feet come out of the window. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched her lower herself as low as she could. She looked down at you, making eye contact for a moment, a moment where time froze, before suddenly letting go.
It all happened so fast. One second you were looking up at her, the next second you heard her scream, and now you were on the grass with Wonyoung’s body on top of yours.
“Are you okay?” you quickly asked as adrenaline shot through your body.
“I think so,” she answered as she hyperventilated in your arms. “Sorry about the scream.”
She took a moment to compose herself before getting off you and standing up. Only once she held her hand to help you up did you notice how intense the pain in your side was.
It was excruciating, the worst pain you have ever felt. You almost wanted to fall back to the ground in a crying fit, but you somehow - with the power of more adrenaline most likely - ignored it and kept your head straight.
“Grab your shoes, let’s go,” your voice far more stable than even you expected.
Without hesitation, Wonyoung followed your instructions and put her heels back on.
“Shit,” she gasped, looking down at her dress.
There was a large tear on the side, exposing a patch of skin on her hip towards her back.
“It’s fine, just stay close to me,” you held your arm out for her to nestle herself next to you. It hurt like hell when her body pressed against your side, but you kept ignoring it. “We’ll have to walk around the building, if anyone asks anything just say you’re my wife and we stepped out for some fresh air and time alone.”
“Oh, sure,” Wonyoung began flushing profusely at the plan.
WIthout giving it a second thought, you lowered your arm around her body and pressed your palm against the part of her dress that had the tear to cover up the skin before guiding her along the path. The two of you swiftly walked around the house, silently admiring once again how beautiful it was. You kept your heads down, making sure not to draw any attention from the windows.
Luckily, everyone inside was seemingly preoccupied in their own little worlds, not surprising considering the pretentious nature of the event. You made it to the front without any issue, all that was left was a cartoonishly long driveway. By the front door stood a couple who seemed to be having a very heated argument.
“Just keep going,” you muttered quietly to Wonyoung, walking past the couple as they began raising their voices.
It was only a couple of steps before Wonyoung began giggling at the slurs being launched into the night sky by the couple before taking off as fast as her heels allowed down the driveway. You chased after her, laughing as the pain in your side disappeared for a moment.
“I think we’re good,” you began panting with your hands on your knees as you caught your breath.
“That was insane,” Wonyoung laughed, falling to the ground in front of you.
“I know right? That was…” your voice trailed off as you looked up and caught a glimpse up Wonyoung’s dress. “Oh fuck.”
“What?”
“First of all, sorry, I didn’t mean to look,” you turned your head away from her. “But we definitely left something in the room.”
“What are you… Oh!” Wonyoung squealed, pulling her legs together tight. “You pervert!”
“Seriously?”
“I’m kidding,” Wonyoung giggled, standing up to her feet, making what seemed to be an obviously intentional ‘mistake’ of flashing her pussy at you again before fixing her dress. “It’s fine, no way they’ll be able to trace them back to me.”
“Good,” you held your hand out for her to take. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
As the night wore on, the two of you strolled across the waterfront town, which was fortunately in a very upscale and safe area. The velvety darkness, punctuated by the tranquil glow of the moon, brought you an otherworldly level of peace - especially after the intensity of your evening.
The streets were serene, only disturbed by the sound of Wonyoung’s heels hitting the pavement in a gentle rhythm and the occasional rustle of leaves as the nightly breeze flew past you. From time to time you’d hear the sounds of laughter coming from people on their own nightly adventures being carried by the crisp and cool air.
“Oh, I’m an idiot,” you stopped abruptly and took off your coat. “Sorry, mind was on other things.”
“I considered asking,” Wonyoung giggled as she accepted your coat and draped it around her shoulders. “But I figured you weren’t really the gentlemen type after I caught you looking up my dress.”
“Oh come on,” you protested. “First of all, accident. Secondly, you didn’t catch me, I confessed.”
“I know, I’m just giving you a hard time,” Wonyoung giggled softly. “We still need to finish what we started by the way,” she added, giving you a little nudge in the ribs.
“Ah,” you gasped, inhaling sharply through your teeth.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
“No no, I’m good,” you lied, hiding the fact that it felt like there was a knife in your ribs right now. “You wanna sit down for a bit? It’s gorgeous out there.”
“Sure,” Wonyoung agreed, looking over at the water.
The two of you sat on the stone wall that bordered the path with your feet dangling over the edge. Now that you weren’t walking, the frigid night started to hit you. Thankfully, Wonyoung understood what you wanted when you inched closer to her, and she lay her head peacefully onto your shoulder. You followed her lead, gently resting your cheek against the top of her head.
The world seemed to fade away, leaving nothing but the soft sounds of water lapping against the shore. The moonlight shimmered across the water, leading a never-ending path deep into the night. The salty sea breeze and the floral tones coming from Wonyoung’s hair pleasantly combined into a mixture of satisfaction.
It felt nice, everything that happened tonight was irrelevant now. All that mattered was this view, and the warmth of Wonyoung leaning against you. Time stood still, yet again, as the two of you silently soaked in the beauty of the world around you. The connection you felt with her felt infinite, forever to be etched into your brain.
“I need to confess something,” Wonyoung broke the silence as she stared down at her hands as if she had never seen them before. “I’ve never actually been with a guy before.”
Carefully, you lifted your head off hers and turned to look down at her. She followed suit, lifting her head off your shoulder, turning to look up at you.
“Wonyoung,” you paused to give her hand a little squeeze. “This doesn’t change what I think about you, but I’m a little surprised.”
“Tonight was supposed to be the night,” she continued, her eyes glowing in the moonlight. “That was the whole reason I went to this party.”
“Well, it wasn’t the reason I enjoyed my time with you tonight.”
“Isn’t that why you went upstairs with me?”
“Truthfully, yes,” you admitted. “Can I ask what you meant by that being the whole reason you were there tonight?”
“Exactly what I said,” she replied. “I… felt like it’s a bit embarrassing that I haven’t done it yet.”
“I don’t think it’s something you should be embarrassed about,” you said gently. “But why at such a pretentious party filled with douchebags?”
“Um, you were also at that party,” she cocked a brow at you.
“Not by choice,” you retaliated. “You’re the only reason I even stayed as long as I did.”
“Sounds like you’re still saying you want to be my first.”
“Look, I just met you, I don’t know much about you,” you replied gently after a pause to think. “But I do know I’ve loved every second we’ve spent together. I also know that I would do it all again in a heartbeat without changing a thing, even if I knew this right here was the end and we both went our separate ways.”
“Really? You wouldn’t maybe change the height of the house?” Wonyoung giggled.
“Nope, but maybe I’d change the way you fell on me.”
“I’m really sorry, does it still hurt?” Wonyoung’s face suddenly turned to concern.
So, she did know how to apologize.
“It’s fine,” you smiled at her.
“You said you’d be fine if the night ended right here and we never spoke again,” she whispered softly. “Is there any way this didn’t have to be the end?”
“Is that what you want?” you asked while letting go of her hand.
She nodded slowly.
“Then no, it doesn’t need to end here, I’d love to see you again."
“Thank you,” she smiled warmly. “But you never answered my question.”
There was another pause for you to think about your answer.
“Whether or not I’m your first, tonight is not the night for us to make that decision,” you answered carefully.
Wonyoung lunged forward and hugged you tightly. It was so sudden, you weren’t prepared. Unfortunate, really, as her very pure-intentioned action ended up being the most painful event of the night; A very loud and visceral cry left your mouth as intense pain shot into your ribs.
“What happened?” Wonyoung gasped, immediately letting go of you in fear.
“Nothing,” you winced in pain as a second wave shot up your body.
Wonyoung, as gently as she could, grabbed your shirt and slowly lifted it up.
“Oh my God!” she screamed, covering her mouth with her hands as the moonlight illuminated a massive purple patch on the side of your body. “Why the fuck have you been hiding this from me?”
“It’s fine,” you winced as you lowered your shirt back down gingerly. “Just a bruise.”
“Just a bruise?” she repeated as tears began spilling from her eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Stop, it’s fine,” you brought your hands up to her face and carefully wiped her eyes with your thumbs. “It’s not your fault.”
“Yes it is! I’m the one who-”
Her panic was silenced as you pressed your lips against hers again. You held your mouth to hers for a few seconds before slowly pulling back, leaving her staring at you with her mouth still slightly agape.
“Please relax,” you smiled warmly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Should I take you to the hospital?”
“No.”
“Can I at least bring you back to my place?”
“It’s no big deal, don’t worry.”
“Please.”
“Alright,” you sighed, admittedly feeling quite touched by her concern. “My place is just up the street, how about you walk me home before I call you a cab?”
“Okay,” Wonyoung leapt to her feet and held her hands out for you. “I can live with that.”
“Thank you,” you graciously accepted her hands and stood up with her, wincing again in pain.
“Here, does that feel fine?” she asked as she placed your arm on her shoulder.
“I can still walk, my legs are fine,” you chuckled. “But yes, it’s perfect.”
The walk only took a couple of minutes, during which not a single word was uttered between the two of you. Yet, somehow, it didn’t feel awkward or strange. It actually felt incredibly comforting walking through the night with Wonyoung. Things were so different now compared to when you met her earlier in the night, it felt like you’ve known this girl all your life.
“One second,” you unwrapped your arm from Wonyoung’s shoulder to reach for your phone.
“I got it,” she quickly reached into your pocket, pulling it out for you.
“Thanks,” you smiled at her thoughtfulness before unlocking the front door to your apartment with the app.
“So fancy,” Wonyoung teased before stepping into the lobby with you, her heels tapping loudly against the marble floors. “I guess it makes sense considering where I found you.”
“It’s not that special,” you replied humbly. “Thank you again, for everything.”
“No, thank you,” Wonyoung responded. “Also, does your physical condition have any bearing on your answer earlier?”
“No,” you smiled at her. “I stand by what I said.”
“Okay, just making sure, let’s go,” she pressed the button for the elevator.
“Let me call that cab for you first.”
“Not yet,” Wonyoung held her hand over your phone. “Let me at least help you clean up the cut.”
“It’s late, I really don’t want to keep you up. I’ll manage.”
“Do you have a girl upstairs waiting for you?” she asked abruptly.
“What? No, of course not. I live alone.”
“Are you uncomfortable with me being in your apartment?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go,” she stepped into the elevator, arms crossed while staring at you.
“I appreciate this,” you said as you stepped in and pressed the button for your floor.
After walking down the hall towards your apartment, Wonyoung forced you to sit on your couch.
“Where’s your medicine cabinet?” she called out to you as she walked into your kitchen.
“Wonyoung I’m fine, I promise, I just need to rest,” you called back. “Just come sit with me for a bit.”
“Where is it?” Wonyoung walked back over, completely ignoring you, with an ice pack in her hands. “Take your shirt off.”
Realizing that she wasn’t going to give up, you sighed before carefully unbuttoning your shirt and opening it up. The bruise had gotten worse, and it already looked terrible compared to earlier. In front of you, Wonyoung had stopped moving and her gaze was locked on your body.
“Wonyoung?” you held your hand out for the ice pack.
“Huh? Oh, right,” she began blushing as she handed you the pack. “Hold that to the bruise. Medicine cabinet?”
“Bathroom mirror,” you replied, gasping as the cool ice pressed against your skin.
It was definitely soothing, and you immediately felt a bit of relief. You watched Wonyoung walk towards the bathroom, your eyes slowly closing as you began drifting out of consciousness. The next thing you remember is the softest of soft touches against your cheek.
“Sorry, did I press too hard?” Wonyoung apologized gently as she continued rubbing vaseline on your cheek. “I’m leaving this one uncovered so that it heals faster and doesn’t scar.”
“Thank you,” you mumbled, your heart rate spiking as you opened your eyes to see Wonyoung’s face right in front of yours. Once again, she was entirely focused on the wound, her gaze never faltering.
“You’re welcome, I wrapped your hand up as well. Are there any other injuries that you know of?”
“I don’t think so,” you shook your head.
“You didn’t have any…”
Those were the last few words you heard before you faded out of consciousness again. The next time your eyes opened up was when you heard the click of your front door opening.
“Still alive?” Wonyoung called out softly when she noticed your eyes were open.
“What, how long…” you paused to look at the ice pack, which had melted entirely by now, before continuing, “...have I been asleep?”
“Like thirty minutes or so,” Wonyoung answered casually as she sat down next to you and removed the pack. “Just rest, you can sleep again if you want.”
She pulled a little bottle out of a small bag and took the lid off before sticking two fingers into it and scooping out some of the cream.
“What’s that?” you mumbled.
“It’s just an anti-inflammatory,” she answered warmly before very gently rubbing her fingers against the bruise. “Does it hurt?” she asked as you let out a little gasp.
“No, it feels good.”
“Good, it’s supposed to,” she smiled as she continued to rub the ointment into your skin. “I’m convinced there’s no girl living here, by the way. After seeing the state of your medicine cabinet, it’s definitely just a man here.”
“Why would I lie…” you mumbled back, slowly fading out of consciousness again. “I really like you…”
Wonyoung paused, her cheeks turning rosy again, before closing the lid of the bottle.
“That should be enough, try not to wipe it off,” Wonyoung said casually before standing up. “Does it hurt when you breathe in?”
“No,” you groaned, sitting up slightly.
“That’s good, you don’t have a fever either,” she noted while pressing the back of her hand against your forehead. “I think you’re right and that it’s just bruising, but I’m taking you to the doctor tomorrow to get x-rays.”
“It’s fine,” you smiled before wincing in pain again.
“I should really be taking you right now to be honest,” she said while staring at your bare chest. “It could be a fractured rib.”
“Tomorrow then, I’ll go.”
“You’re saying it like you have a choice.”
“Also, wait a minute, are those my clothes?” you just now noticed what she was wearing. “When did you put those on?”
“I wasn’t going to walk into a store with a ripped dress and no panties, you idiot,” Wonyoung shook her head in disbelief. “Get some sleep, as soon as you wake up we’re going to see a physician.”
“Thank you…” you mumbled quietly, slouching back down into the couch and closing your eyes. “Goodnight.”
After a small pause where you heard a couple of footsteps, you felt Wonyoung place a gentle kiss on your cheek.
“Goodnight.”
---
A/N:
I don't think I have too much to say about this one. I wrote it because @writerpeach made me horny for Wonyoung. I know it's not the smuttiest of my works, but frankly I was more focused on other aspects of my writing for this one. I've left it open for future parts, no idea when I'll be writing them but I do already have the plot.
Wrote and edited this whole thing in essentially one weekend, so forgive any mistakes. This one really was more of a test for my own writing capability. A small side project if you will. Feel free to let me know what you guys think, and if you have any sort of interesting requests I'm not opposed to taking them for more practice.
Note: I have resorted to the sacred prompt list by Anon again….this helped me so much frrr. Hope you will post your first ever fic here so I can tagged you!!
This concludes the unofficial (or official ig) IZ*ONE marathon. @hyeyulenjoyer hope this was a fun ride for you. And thank you everyone for enjoying these fics as well!
Also appreciate IVE for paying respect to the recent tragedy. All the dumb haters who find ways to hate them again....just touch grass pls.
(this was the perfect picture for this fic lol)
The tickets sit on your desk, undisturbed, their glossy surface catching the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You don’t even need to read the text printed on them anymore. The details are already burned into your brain.
A fan sign.
It was supposed to be special. The kind of thing you looked forward to for weeks, marked on your calendar with a little star. You were supposed to show up, tease her about messing up choreography, make her laugh in the middle of a serious performance, see that look in her eyes that was just for you.
Now, the tickets feel like a joke.
Your phone is face-down beside them, dark screen hiding the messages you haven't opened yet—the well-meaning texts from friends, the casual work notifications. All messages except from her.
Wonyoung.
You close your eyes, but it doesn't help. The memory of your last call with her is still fresh, the words playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.
"I just don’t have time for this anymore."
"For us, you mean?"
"Mhm."
The way she said it—calm, measured, like it was just another item to tick off on her to-do list—had made something inside you crack. There had been no anger in her voice. No hesitation.
That…hurt more than anything.
You had wanted to say something, anything to make her stop. To remind her of the nights spent whispering over the phone until she fell asleep, of the rare moments when she let herself be vulnerable with you, of the way she would light up the second she saw you waiting for her backstage to take her to eat a whole cow together.
But you couldn't mutter a voice.
You had just sat there, phone pressed to your ear, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it threatened to tear.
And then, just like that, she was gone.
It was three days ago.
Three days of checking your phone too often. Three days of convincing yourself you were fine. Three days of staring at these damn tickets on the desk and trying to figure out why you hadn’t just thrown them away. You should sell them. Give them to someone who’d actually enjoy them.
But something stops you.
Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s the stupid, lingering part of you that refuses to admit that she’s really gone. Whatever the reason, you find yourself gripping them tighter instead of throwing them away.
You decided that you will go.
Not for her. Not to see her.
Just so you don’t have to sit in this room, drowning in thoughts of what used to be.
That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.
-
The venue is packed.
Fans shuffle forward in line, their chatter buzzing in the air like static. Excited whispers, rustling light sticks, the occasional squeal when a favourite member’s name is mentioned.
Your fingers tighten around the album in your hands. (Ironically you still hold onto her album)
This is normal for them. For the fans around you, this is just another fan sign. A chance to meet their idols, to share fleeting moments, to walk away with a signature and a memory they’ll cherish for years.
You should feel the same. Instead, you’re just… tired. Who could blame you, you’re about to come face-to-face with your ex-girlfriend.
And she has no idea you’re here.
Your grip on the album tightens as the line inches forward. The first few members greet you with polite smiles, their voices light and bubbly. You do your best to respond normally, but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the inevitable moment that keeps creeping closer and closer.
You don’t need to look up to know she’s at the end of the table. You can feel her presence.
And then, suddenly, there’s no more time left.
Your album slides across the table. Long, slender fingers stop it in place.
There’s a small pause—so brief that no one else seems to notice—but you do. You feel it in the slight delay before she looks up, in the way her fingers tighten just a fraction around the album’s edge.
And then her eyes meet yours.
She looks the same. Flawless, as always. Every strand of hair perfectly in place, makeup soft and ethereal under the bright overhead lights. And those sparkly eyes that you often got lost in.
But…she’s not yours anymore. Not at all.
There was a flicker of something—recognition, surprise, something deeper—crosses her face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.
Her lips part slightly, but no words come out at first. Then…
“Hey.”
It’s awkward. Too awkward. You can feel the tension hanging between you, thick and suffocating.
You swallow, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “Hey.”
For a split second, she looks like she wants to say something else. Like she wants to break the script, ignore the rehearsed greetings and practiced smiles.
But then—
She doesn’t.
Instead, she picks up her pen, the mask slipping back into place. Her expression evens out, and in a voice so perfectly professional it almost stings, she says,
“Thanks for coming.”
Just like she would to any other fan. That made your stomach twists.
You should’ve known. Of course, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not here. Not in front of all these people.
Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Would’ve been a waste of money if I didn’t.”
Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. She presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “Right. Can’t have that.”
She signs her name, her handwriting as neat and practiced as always. But there’s a hesitance in the way she moves, a slight delay before she lifts the pen from the page.
When she finally pushes the album back toward you, her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.
Then, in a voice so quiet that only you can hear…
“Take care, okay?”
She’s looking at you now. Really looking at you.
And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, she’s not the Jang Wonyoung, the IT girl, the global superstar.
She’s just…Wonyoung.
The girl who used to call you late at night just to hear your voice.
The girl who used to lace her fingers through yours under the table when no one was looking.
The girl who told you she didn’t have time for you anymore.
You stare at her.
The words stick to your throat. You genuinely don’t trust yourself to say anything.
So you just…don’t.
You just take the album, stand up, and walk away. And even as you disappear into the crowd, you can still feel her eyes on you.
-
You’ve been doing fine.
Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.
It’s been a few days since the fan sign, and you’ve buried yourself in anything that keeps your mind occupied—work, games, mindless scrolling through your phone. Anything to keep yourself from replaying the look on Wonyoung’s face at the fansign. From remembering the way she hesitated before handing your album back. From thinking about the way her gaze kept flickering toward you as you walk away, as if she was looking for something.
Or someone.
But that’s not your problem anymore. You told yourself that the moment you left the venue.
Which is why, when your phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, you almost don’t check the caller ID. Almost.
The second you see her name flashing on the screen, your stomach twists.
Jang Wonyoung.
The ringing continues, each second stretching unbearably. You should let it go. Turn off your phone. Pretend you never saw it.
But you don’t. Because deep down, you know you still want to hear her voice. So you answer.
“...Hello?”
There’s silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a soft giggle—breathy and drawn out, the kind that used to slip past her lips whenever she was feeling particularly affectionate.
"Dummmyy!" she hums, stretching your nickname like it’s some sweet, familiar melody.
“Wonyo. Are you drunk?” You sigh, ignoring the way your nickname for her easily rolled out of your tongue.
She giggles again, the sound loose and unguarded. "Mmm… maybe."
"Goddamn it." You rub your temples. "Where are you?"
A rustling noise filters through the receiver, followed by the distant hum of traffic. "Somewhere," she mumbles. "Some bar, I think. The girls took me out."
Figures.
You shift in bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. “It’s late.”
“I know,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But I wanted to call you.”
You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “Why?”
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, there’s a soft exhale, the kind she lets out when she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, quieter…
“Because I miss you.”
Your fingers tighten around the phone.
"Don’t do that," you say quietly.
"Do what?"
"Say things you don’t mean."
Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "But I do mean it. I do miss you."
You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?"
She goes quiet.
For a moment, all you hear is the faint sound of music in the background, the distant chatter of people. She’s probably in the back of some high-end bar or a private lounge that someone of her status often went. You can picture it too easily—her long hair falling over her shoulders, her lips painted red, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes.
Your heart beat rapidly at the image.
"You came to the fansign," she says suddenly, cutting into your thoughts.
You rub at your temple. "Mhm."
"Why?"
"You already know why."
"Say it anyway."
You sigh. "Because I had the tickets. It would’ve been a waste."
She lets out a humourless laugh. "Right. Can’t have that."
Something about the way she repeats your words from that day makes your stomach twist.
There’s another long pause. Then, almost hesitantly.
"Did you feel anything?"
Your eyes widened. "Feel what?"
"When you saw me again." Her voice is quieter now. "Did you feel anything?"
Your jaw clenches. You want to lie. Want to say no, not at all. That it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But you can’t.
Because the truth is, you felt everything.
The way your heart clenched when she looked at you. The way your stomach twisted when her fingers hesitated over your name. The way your mind screamed at you to move on, to stop letting her affect you, to stop caring.
But you don’t tell her any of that.
Instead, you settle for, "Who cares anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because we’re done, Jang Wonyoung."
She sucks in a sharp breath, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to cry.
"You-" She stops, swallows. When she speaks again, her voice is unsteady. "You didn’t even try to fight for me."
Your grip tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white. "You were the one who ended things. On the phone, may I remind you."
"I know," she whispers. "And I thought it was the right choice. But now I just—" She breaks off, voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know anymore."
You shut your eyes.
It would be so easy to give in. To tell her that you don’t know either, that you still think about her, that you still wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t supposed to end like this.
But what’s the point?
She made her choice.
And you’re tired of being the one left picking up the pieces.
"You’re drunk, Jang Wonyoung," you say, voice carefully even. "Go home and go to sleep."
"Wait—"
"Goodnight."
And then, before she can say another word, you hang up.
The silence that follows is deafening.
And yet, for the first time in days, you finally let yourself breathe.
-
Or at least, it should be.
You did the right thing, you tell yourself—cut it off before it could spiral any further. Before you let yourself believe, even for a second, that anything has changed.
But still, the weight in your chest lingers.
The room feels too quiet now, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, making it impossible to ignore the thoughts creeping into your head. You lie back down, throwing an arm over your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.
You don’t know how much time passes before you hear it.
A knock.
You freeze.
At first, you think you’re imagining it. Sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and still reeling from that damn phone call, your brain must be conjuring things that aren’t real. But then, the knocking got more insistent. Erratic, yet insistent.
Your brows furrow. You sit up, straining your ears.
"Who the hell…?"
It’s almost 3 AM. No one in their right mind would be visiting you at this hour. Then again, you just got a call from a drunk girl not in their right mind.
Knock, knock, knock.
It’s louder this time, clumsy and uncoordinated, like whoever’s on the other side can barely keep their balance. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach.
You begrudingly throw off your blankets and push yourself up, padding toward the door. Your hand hovers over the handle for a second before you sigh and pull it open.
And there she is.
Wonyoung.
She’s standing there in the dim, flickering hallway light, wrapped in a thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the cold. Her long hair is slightly tousled, the glossy perfection from the concert gone, strands falling loosely over her shoulders. She sways just the slightest, a delicate wobble on unsteady feet. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy—not just from the alcohol but from something else. Something unreadable.
You blink.
She blinks back, like she’s just now processing that you’re standing in front of her.
Then, with absolutely no warning, she wobbles forward, collapsing against your chest.
You barely manage to catch her. “Jesus—Wonyo.” You gently hold her arms, steadying her. “What the hell are you doing here?”
"Surprise," she breathes, half-laughing, half-sniffling.
You let out a sharp breath. “Surprise? You’re seriously—” You stop yourself, jaw clenching. “How did you even get here?”
"I took a taxi," she announces, like that explains anything. Like that justifies her showing up at your door past midnight after breaking up with you.
You stare at her. “Alone?”
“Mmhmm.”
Your stomach twists. “Wonyoung, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”
She just hums, leaning more of her weight onto you. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and you can feel the slight tremble in her body.
You sigh, tightening your grip. “You’re freezing.”
“I was walking.”
“Walking where?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at you properly. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something—something serious, something she’s probably been holding in for too long. But then, she hiccups.
You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”
She smiles lazily, like she didn’t just show up at your door dead drunk in the middle of the night after breaking up with you.
"You hung up on me," she murmurs.
You pull back slightly, just enough to see her properly. “Yeah. I did.”
"That was mean," she says, pouting. "I was talking."
"You were drunk."
"Still talking."
You shake your head, adjusting your grip on her. “Come on. You need water. And sleep.”
She hums, letting you guide her inside. “Only if you let me stay.”
You pause.
For a brief second, something in her voice sounds painfully sober.
But then she giggles again, burying her face in your chest, and you decide that you’ll deal with that in the morning.
For now, you just hold her close.
You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shift your grip on her. She’s barely standing at this point, practically melting into you like she has no bones in her body.
"Alright, come on," you mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside.
She stumbles slightly, her fingers gripping at your shirt as she giggles under her breath. "You smell nice," she mumbles.
You ignore that.
You close the door behind you with your foot, guiding her toward the couch. She flops onto it with zero resistance, her coat slipping off her shoulders. The moment she’s down, she tilts her head back, blinking up at you like she’s expecting something.
She doesn’t hesitate. Stumble inside like she belongs here.
And maybe that’s the problem. She did belong here.
And now? Now you don’t know.
Her eyes lazily drift across the apartment, lingering on the things she still remembers—the half-empty cup of coffee on your desk, the hoodie she used to steal draped over the chair, the faint indent in the couch where she used to curl up next to you.
Then she noticed your desk, the same desk where the fansign ticket sat just days ago. The same one she saw in your hands at the fansign days ago.
"You really came," she murmurs, not looking at you. "I didn’t think you actually would."
You shrug. "Like I said. Would’ve been a waste."
She flinches. Just the tiniest bit. But you catch it.
She exhales slowly, arms wrapping around herself. "It was weird."
"What was?"
"Seeing you there. But not... There, you know?" She fully looks at you now, and there's something raw in her expression. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. "You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease me like you usually do. You barely even looked at me."
"What did you expect?" you ask quietly. "You dumped me, Wonyoung. You can’t just expect me to act like nothing happened."
She presses her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve. "I know."
You wait. Give her the space to say what she came here to say.
But she doesn’t. Not right away.
She defeatedly sighed, tucking her knees under her chin, looking smaller than she ever has before. She stares at her hands for a long moment before mumbling, "I don’t know why I came here."
You scoff. "Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you drunk-called your ex, then showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night without a plan."
She frowns. "I do have a plan."
You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
She huffs. "Step one: get inside. Step two..." She falters, looking away. "...I didn’t think that far."
You shake your head. "Unbelievable."
Silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken.
Then, barely above a whisper, "Do you hate me?"
You freeze.
Your first instinct is to say no. Because of course you don’t hate her. You never could.
But that’s not the right answer, is it?
So instead, you tell the truth.
"I don’t know," you admit. "I want to. But I can't."
She looks up at you then, eyes searching. Hopeful and afraid all at once. "I messed up, didn’t I?"
You let out a hollow laugh. "Yea. Big time."
She swallows. Lowers her gaze again. "I thought breaking up would make things easier. For you…for both of us."
"Did it?"
She shakes her head. "No."
You run a hand through your hair, exhaling. "Then why did you do it?"
"I was scared," she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the confident idol the world knows, that it almost hurts to hear. "I thought I was being selfish, holding onto you when I barely had time to see you. I thought you deserved more than stolen moments and rushed phone calls."
Your jaw clenches. "You didn’t even ask me what I wanted."
"I know," she whispers. "I thought I was making the right choice."
You sit down across from her, legs spread, elbows on your knees. "And now?"
She meets your gaze, vulnerability laid bare. "Now... I just miss you."
Your heart leaped a mile. This was the Wonyoung you always see. Not the glamorous and model-esque Jang Wonyoung everyone always see on TV. Not the well-spoken and powerful public figure everyone knows. Just…a gentle yet bubbly girl who snuggled up next to you on the couch at the end of the day.
But your brain should tell her to leave. To sleep it off, to sober up and think about this when her mind is clearer.
Then she reaches out—just the slightest, her fingers brushing against yours on the couch. And you don’t pull away.
"You’re drunk," you remind her, though your voice lacks conviction.
She smiles faintly. "Thanks…Mr. Obvious."
Silence. Then, tentatively, "Can I sleep here tonight?"
Another hesitation.
But just like before, you already know your answer.
You sigh. Your hand intertwined with hers.
"Go get a blanket. Wonyo."
She doesn’t move right away. Just watches you, like she’s memorizing you all over again.
Then, with a small, almost relieved nod, she gets up and stumbled into your bedroom as she dragged you along—the same bedroom she used to slip into after long schedules, the same one she used to call hers.
And just like that, the distance you tried so hard to create crumbles.
Note: Anon, hope this was something you were asking for (I think). Twas' a fun prompt and I enjoyed it frfr. Feel free to DM me ur thoughts!
(This German girl do be looking cute-)
“Again?”
You don’t even look up from your computer screen. You already know who it is.
There’s a quiet giggle, followed by the sound of someone shuffling through your things. You sigh, rubbing your temple before shooting a glare at the intruder currently invading your workspace—none other than Kim Jiwon(or Liz), your childhood friend turned global idol, standing beside your desk like she owns the place.
“Can you not touch my stuff?” you grumble, snatching a framed photo from her hands before she can get any ideas.
She blinks at you innocently. “You keep this here?”
You glance down at the picture, already knowing which one she’s referring to. It’s an old, slightly faded photo from elementary school—Liz, missing her two front teeth, flashing a peace sign, while you stand beside her with the grumpiest expression imaginable. You had never liked taking pictures, but Liz had insisted back then. Looking at it now, you don’t even remember why you agreed to keep it on your desk.
“It’s just decoration,” you mutter, setting it back down.
Liz hums, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes. “Sure, sure.”
She doesn’t leave. Of course, she doesn’t. You’re already used to this little routine.
Despite her packed schedule, Liz always finds time to drop by your office whenever she’s at the company. She claims it’s because she’s curious about what you do, but you know better. The real reason? She just enjoys annoying you.
She picks up your stationery, taps at your keyboard, sometimes even steals your coffee—because “staff coffee tastes different.” You tolerate it because, well… it’s Liz. You’ve known her since you were kids.
It’s still crazy how you both ended up here…especially after how you reunited.
-
To this day, you still don’t know how the hell that situation happened.
You had only been working at Starship Entertainment for about a month at that point. Just a regular staff member, trying not to get scolded, running around delivering paperwork, managing schedules—nothing out of the ordinary.
Then came that time.
One of your first bigger assignments had been to handle some logistics for IVE’s new comeback. Simple enough. Make sure the equipment was working, ensure the space was ready, help with any requests—it was routine.
What wasn’t routine was somehow ending up in a storage closet with a girl in a hoodie, a bucket of spilled cleaning supplies, and the worst case of déjà vu you’ve ever experienced.
…Let’s back up.
That day, you had been in a rush, carrying a stack of documents for the management team when you took a wrong turn down a hallway you didn’t usually use. It led to one of the storage rooms, where cleaning supplies and extra equipment were kept.
The door was slightly open.
Then, without warning—
CRASH.
Something—or someone—barreled right into you, sending both of you stumbling backwards into the closet.
The door slammed shut behind you.
Silence.
For a moment, you just laid there on the floor, trying to process the fact that you had just been body-slammed into a janitor’s closet. Your head throbbed. You could hear the faint creak of a mop falling somewhere nearby.
And then—
“…Wait. Grumpy?”
You froze.
That voice. That stupidly familiar voice.
Slowly, you looked up.
And there, crouched in the dim light, staring at you like she had just seen a ghost—was the one and only. Your childhood friend. The same girl you hadn’t seen in years.
In a janitor’s closet. With you.
What. The. Hell.
“…What are you doing here?” she asked, blinking rapidly.
You stared at her. “What are you doing around here in the management area?”
“I asked first!”
“I work here!”
That seemed to short-circuit her brain for a second. Her eyes widened, then darted to the staff ID clipped to your shirt. Slowly, realization dawned on her face.
“…You work at Starship?”
“Yes?!”
"Since when?!"
"Since I got hired, duh!"
Liz opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. She blinked.
Then—
She burst out laughing.
“You—You actually work here?” she wheezed, clutching her stomach. “Oh my God, this is unreal. This is so unreal.”
"Tsk." You scowled. “Glad to see my suffering is entertaining you.”
“I can’t believe this! We literally grew up together, lost contact, and now you’re working for my company? This is insane.” She wiped at her eyes, still laughing. “And—wait, you of all people? You always hated dealing with people!”
“Yeah, well, life’s funny like that,” you muttered. You rubbed your temples, exhaling through your nose. “Okay, but why were you sneaking around?”
“…You were stealing snacks from the staff area again, weren’t you?”
Silence.
“…Maybe.”
Unbelievable. Some things really never changed.
-
And that was how you reunited.
You had spent a solid fifteen minutes stuck in that closet with Liz before someone finally found you two. The rest of the staff had been utterly confused, and you had to endure Liz wheezing with laughter for the rest of the day.
Ever since then, she had made it her personal mission to annoy you at work.
Which brings you to now.
“Alright, stay put. Don’t touch anything,” you warn as you stand from your desk, stretching your arms before grabbing your phone. “I need to get some files from the storage room.”
Liz, perched on the edge of your desk like she owns the place, swings her legs lazily. “No promises.”
You narrow your eyes. “I mean it. Hands off.”
She hums innocently, lips curling into a playful smile. “Of course, of course.”
You don’t trust her one bit.
Still, you leave, because you have to, but you throw one last suspicious glance over your shoulder before stepping out.
The door clicks shut…and Liz immediately disregards your warning.
“Don’t touch anything,” she mocks under her breath, rolling her eyes. As if she could ever listen to that. "Bleh. What are you, my mom?"
She stretches her arms with a yawn, then lazily lets her fingers drift across your desk, poking at whatever looks mildly interesting. The keyboard? Tap. A stack of documents? Poke. Your half-empty coffee cup? Swirl.
And then she sees it.
A small, slightly worn notebook tucked beside your monitor, the corner peeking out as if daring her to take a look.
Curious, she pulls it free and flips it over in her hands. The second she reads the cover, her breath catches in her throat.
"How to Take Care of Jiwon the Annoying Child"
She blinks. Once. Twice.
Then, a slow, delighted smile spreads across her face.
“Oh?”
Her heart beats a little faster as she carefully flips the first page. The handwriting is neat—your handwriting. She skims over the lines, amusement bubbling in her chest.
Jiwon gets grumpy when she hasn’t eaten. Always have snacks on hand.
She giggles. “So that’s why you always have extra snacks.”
She flips to the next one.
She gets sleepy after eating too much. Don’t let her nap on the practice room floor. Would be annoying to tend to the sick Jiwon.
A small gasp escapes her lips. “Wait, is that why you always wake me up first?”
Another page.
If she’s sad, buy her ice cream. Preferably chocolate.
Her heart flutters. You really do notice everything, huh?
She keeps reading, her amusement growing. But then—
The notes start getting weirder.
If she starts humming randomly, she’s in a good mood. If she’s humming AND staring at me, she’s plotting something. Probably my usual dose of suffering.
Liz snorts. “What do you mean?”
DO NOT let her near a stray cat. She will try to take it home.
She gasps, clutching her chest. “That happened one time, trust me–”
If she says ‘Trust me,’ DO NOT TRUST HER.
Liz bursts into laughter. “Damn it! Okay, fair.”
The notes only get more ridiculous.
She once ate an entire cake by herself just to prove she could. Do NOT challenge her to food-related dares.
If she looks too smug, she probably stole my drink.
If she looks too cute and uses her dumb aegyo, she’s about to ask for a favour.
Her giggles come uncontrollably now. She flips through the pages quickly, eager to see what else you’ve written. But then—
The shift happens. The notes stop being ridiculous. They start being… something else.
When she’s nervous, she fidgets with her necklace. Let her hold onto my sleeve instead.
Her fingers touch her necklace instinctively. "Huh…you do wear long sleeves every time we meet…"
Liz acts tough, but she cries at sad movies. Keep tissues ready.
Her laughter softens. "No I don't…mostly…"
She overworks herself even when she’s exhausted. Sometimes she just needs someone to tell her to rest.
Her heart clenches.
And then, the last note. It might have been scribbled out but…She stares at it. She couldn't unsee it after once.
If she ever gets too tired, remind her she doesn’t have to do everything alone. Remind her that I’m here….
Her grip tightens on the notebook.
She rereads the words, once, twice—three times.
She always knew you cared. In your own way—grumbling, teasing, acting like she was the most annoying person in the world. But this? You had written this down. As if it was important. As if you wanted to remember, just in case.
As if she mattered.
Her chest feels warm.
The door creaks open.
“Alright, I got the—”
Your words cut off when you see her holding the notebook.
You freeze mid-step.
Liz is holding the notebook. Jiwon is reading the notebook.
Your stomach drops.
She looks up at you, notebook still clutched in her hands, her expression unreadable.
You stand there, the file folder limp in your grip.
Then, slowly, a mischievous glint appears in her eyes.
“You mother f—”
Before you can even lunge for it, Liz hugs the notebook to her chest, scrambling to her feet. Her breath comes out in an excited rush.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, eyes sparkling. “You do care about me!”
You feel actual panic set in. “PUT THAT DOWN. KIM JIWON.”
She takes a step back, holding it tighter. “No way! This is adorable! You—You actually wrote down how to take care of me?!”
You can feel your dignity slipping away.
“I— It’s not what it looks like—”
“Ohhh, let’s see what else—” She flips back to the earlier pages, reading aloud dramatically. “‘If she’s nervous, let her hold onto my sleeve instead.’”
Your ears burn as your hand subconsciously rolled up your sleeves in embarrassment.
"Oooohh, you're wearing long sleeve today as well, huh?!" Liz gasps, looking up at you with exaggerated shock. “You let me do that? Willingly?!”
You grit your teeth. “GIVE. IT. BACK.”
She twirls away, flipping through more pages. “Wait, wait—‘If she looks too smug, she probably stole my drink.’” She gasps in fake offense. “So that’s why you glare at me whenever I take a sip.”
You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Jiwon—”
She keeps going, eyes darting across the pages. But then—
She reaches the last note again.
Her laughter fades.
Silence stretches between you.
She rereads the words, her fingers brushing lightly over the ink. Then, slowly, she lifts her head.
The teasing glint in her eyes is gone. Instead, there’s something softer. Something more sincere.
“…You really meant this?” she asks, voice quieter.
You shift uncomfortably. “U-um…I—”
Her gaze lingers on you for a moment. Then, before you can react, she lunges at you again, but this time, she hugs you.
You stiffen immediately.
“…Ya.”
She squeezes you tighter.
“Shhh,” she mumbles into your shoulder. “Just let me hug you, you tsundere.”
You stand there, unmoving, ears burning. Your hands hover awkwardly before—finally—you sigh and pat her back.
“…You’re so annoying.”
She giggles against your shoulder. “I know.”
After a moment, she pulls back, grinning. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
You roll your eyes, snatching the notebook from her hands before she can react. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to serialise this and give it to your members.”
Y/N and his girlfriend were always cautious when their parents were around, but if it was just his little sister Minju left in the house, they didn't have a care in the world. It was funny, too, because Minju and her brother never had the 'you won't tell Mom and Dad, will you?' conversation. She could have easily just hinted to her parents what was going on after they left the house.
But ultimately, Minju wasn't going to do it. Her brother was usually sweet to her. Besides, if ever Y/N did something to piss her off, she had his afternoons with that awful girlfriend Eunju to hold over his head.
Eunju let out one more dramatic moan, and she couldn't take it any longer. Minju grabbed her phone and running shoes and made for the door. As she closed it behind her, she was relieved to hear only the breeze blowing through their front yard.
Running was Minju's way of taking her mind off things. As soon as she took her first stride, her frustration began to melt away. The fact that her big brother was inside fooling around with his obnoxious girlfriend didn't matter anymore when her favorite song came up on her beloved running playlist.
Her routine kept her sane, and it was also why Minju was one of the fittest girls she knew. At 5'-6" and 105 lbs., she was proud to be in such good shape; it made a hard run all the easier. And though she hated to admit it, seeing the eyes of neighborhood boys and husbands follow her as she ran by was a rush.
Minju didn't have a boyfriend; that was probably part of her frustration with her brother and his bedroom antics. It wasn't that she didn't want one; it was more that nobody had come along with whom she felt compelled to start a relationship. Either they were silly boys her age, eighteen and immature, or they were older and with transparently lustful intentions toward her.
Minju could see what Eunju saw in her brother. He was twenty, smart, handsome, and yet very unassuming. Being a quarterback on his college football team probably didn't hurt, but he wasn't a colossal jock the way most might have expected. Family-oriented, driven, respectful... Y/N was the works. Why couldn't more boys like him approach her than the guys she was used to?
That's also why she held such high standards for him. Not only was he handsome, with short brown hair and masculine features that already resembled her dad, but he was just an all-around good guy. Eunju didn't deserve him; Minju always felt that Y/N had just fallen for her fast like he always did and that he liked the quarterback cheerleader cliché, too. Whatever, she thought, he'd only been with her a few months, and she could always hope things wouldn't work out.
Minju wondered if maybe her brother would set her up with one of his friends when she rounded the corner heading back to their house. She was intimately aware of how much her boobs were bouncing in her workout top when she passed Mr. Taylor's house; he was such a creep he might as well have blown her a kiss as she passed him while he was watering his flowers.
Minju's tits... They'd been trouble since they showed up in her early teens. Boys at school stared like they'd never seen breasts before in their lives. Men, too: men who were way too old to be gawking at a teenager would pretend they weren't trying to get a look down her shirt. Even her brother! Sometimes, he would stop in the middle of a sentence if she accidentally showed them too much. Maybe 'accident' wasn't the right word. Y/N was the only one she teased on purpose, perhaps because she knew he could do nothing about it.
When she ran up to the driveway, Y/N and his bimbo were on the front porch.
"Good luck tomorrow, baby," Minju heard her say.
"Thanks," her brother replied, "I'll see you after the game?"
"You'll see me at the game!" Eunju said, standing up tall to kiss her brother on the lips.
"You know I don't look over there. I can't be distracted." Y/N reasoned.
"Yea, yea, I get it. Mr. Quarterback can't take his eye off the ball," Eunju said, lovingly touching her brother on the chest.
Minju couldn't help but laugh at the flirty way Eunju said it. She'd tried her hardest to get to the door, but she was thirsty and didn't want to listen to it anymore.
"O...M...G...ARE-YOU-DONE!" She chanted, mocking one of the standard cheers, "CAN-I-GET-IN-THE-FUCKING-DOOR?"
Y/N laughed at his little sister's attitude. He'd seen her running up and knew he'd get an earful when his girlfriend left.
"Very funny, Minju," Eunju said, unimpressed, "Though I hope that's not what you'll be trying out with next year."
"Ugh..." Minju sighed, cocked her hip, and fluffed her ponytail "Should I dye my hair blonde instead?"
Minju shot a nasty look at her brother. He was NOT supposed to be telling anyone on the cheerleading team that his sister would try out it if she got accepted at his school. Even though she couldn't stand many of the girls on the team, she still loved cheering. Being close to the game, getting the crowd engaged, and staying in shape - all of it appealed to Minju, and she had her eyes on doing it for her brother's team if she got in.
Content with the frown on Eunju's face, Minju simply shouldered past her brother and headed inside. He took a moment to say his last goodbyes before following his little sister into the kitchen. He had to take a deep breath when he saw her tilting the bottle back and witnessed a few drips falling onto her chest as she gulped it greedily. The light glisten of sweat on her abs, the tight-fitting workout clothes...oooph. Despite having recently fooled around with his girlfriend, a hot girl was a hot girl, related to him or not. Sometimes, he wished his sister understood that the way he did.
"Why do you always gotta give her such a hard time?"
Minju almost laughed out loud, wanting to say something about her brother giving the dumb blonde a 'hard time' himself.
"Hey, if you are gonna bring your ditzy girlfriends around the house when mom and dad aren't home, I'm gonna reserve the right to make fun of them."
Y/N had difficulty arguing with that. He admired his sister's tenacity most of the time. She knew what she wanted, and she was vocal and rambunctious - everything he wanted in a girlfriend. She was probably right anyway. Eunju didn't knock him out with anything but her looks. And even then, the girl standing right before him was far more attractive. He was sure he could find someone that was right for him; Eunju was simply right for right now.
"Hey, Minju'," he said to her. She wanted to be mad at him, but she loved it when he called her that. "I'm sorry about the cheerleading thing. Eunju put two and two together, and I told her you'd probably try out."
"Two and two huh? Did Eunju finally pass remedial math last semester?" Minju quipped, narrowing her eyes after she'd said it.
Even though he could see her glare, Y/N knew she wouldn't stay mad at him. She only had a few hours each week, if that, to see her brother. He'd come home on Friday and stay the night before his Saturday game. They lived close enough to campus that he would be off before she awoke the next day and went to see him play. Eunju was a part of the weekly routine, but Y/N always got rid of her before it even got dark.
She always wondered how he managed to do it. Minju felt like girls were pretty dramatic when it came to quickies like Eunju seemed to come over for. One weekend, she'd heard the stupid blonde say something like, "...if it helps you play better, then I don't mind!" She hadn't made much of it then; Minju was glad to hear Eunju saying it on her way out.
"Yeah, yeah, I forgive you," Minju said, walking towards her brother and stopping when she smacked the almost empty water bottle against his chest and held her hand there, "I'll be picking the movie tonight."
Y/N rolled his head back and smiled, glad everything was cool between him and his little sis. Maybe he'd even convince her to give him a back massage later if he played the "It'll help me play well tomorrow" card.
Things went as they usually did that night. Minju even agreed to massage her brother's shoulder for a bit, even though she made sure to get a dig in about how he wasn't even a starter. Y/N had fought hard with his coach for his nights at home. Sure, seeing his girlfriend when most other guys were forbidden was a big plus. But he loved seeing his little sister and was so glad she always freed up her Friday nights for him before the game.
They just got along so well. Close in age as they were, Y/N and Minju had a lot of common interests. Football and video games, music, and crappy TV, they typically had a blast every Friday and Y/N went to bed once again, happy to spend time with his little sister. Their parents always did date night on Friday, so they'd only be home shortly before he went to bed.
Sometimes Y/N felt guilty, but more and more he was seeing his little sister in a... different light. She'd grown up fast. Not only was she more mature, but her body was too. He was often confused by how much he enjoyed having her around. He tried to reason that being near a pretty, youthful brunette would always be desirable. She just happened also to be his sister, and as long as he kept his hands to himself everything would be fine.
Typically, that's the way things worked out. Yet, Minju felt just as comfortable as her brother did around her. So, as she sat there massaging his naked shoulder and seeing how huge and muscular he'd gotten since starting college, Minju had some of the same issues her brother did. She also loved being around him, and not just because of how much he made her laugh or how she could talk to him about anything. She loved massaging his back because it was the closest she'd gotten to an attractive guy, and this one didn't try to touch her ass or her boobs whenever he got the chance.
She was only wearing a crop top and her favorite sweatpants, which she rolled and wore low at the waist when she remembered her brother had commented dressing inappropriately around him. Minju had brushed it off... and then wore seemingly less every time he was over after that. Hey, she thought, if he could get off while their parents were out and then get a massage out of her, she could at the very least, feel sexy and comfortable at the same time. His stare didn't bother her one bit.
The next day was incredible. Y/N wasn't a starter, so he'd begun the game uniformed but sitting on the bench. He was only a sophomore but next in line to start as quarterback for the prestigious college team. Things weren't going well for the starter. He fumbled in the first quarter. The offense struggled and only got one field goal out of four or five possessions in a row as the first half was nearing its end. When the QB threw his second interception, and the whistles sounded at the end of the half, Minju was buzzing in her seat that her brother might get his chance.
He'd played before, but only a quarter or a few minutes here and there. They entered the locker room, and Minju's mom touched her shoulder.
"Wouldn't it be great if your brother started the second half?" She said, looking excited.
Minju's heart beat faster. "You think he will, Dad? Do you think Oppa is going to start?"
Her dad raised his eyebrows and said, "I know what I'd do if I were the coach... he just might."
"You think he's ready?" Minju's mom asked her father.
A passing memory took Minju as her parents chatted about her brother's workout routine. Eunju had said something that other day when she'd overheard them. "...gotta make sure you're ready," she'd said, or something like that. Why was she remembering that now?
Sure enough, as halftime ended Y/N ran out of the tunnel with his helmet on. He was going to play.
He looked shaky as he lined up for his first snap. This time, seeing him on the field felt a little different. They were coming from behind, and her brother wasn't just a quick substitution; he was meant to be the solution.
He handed the ball off twice, but they still had a few yards to get the first down. It looked like they were keeping the ball out of the air and in the unknown hands of her brother. But when they lined up and Y/N called for the ball, he dropped back to pass it.
Minju held her breath the whole time.
'Pass it Oppa...!' she screamed inwardly.
... COME ON PASS IT!
And then he did.
It was a beautiful throw - a bullet right across the middle.
The receiver was brought down right away but well beyond the first-down line. The whole crowd cheered, and Minju and her parents locked arms and jumped up and down. He'd done it; she was so proud.
After that, Y/N was everything he needed to be. They didn't do anything too crazy, and he was playing pretty safe, but in no time, they were near the end zone, and Minju was clenching her mom's arm tight until he threw a perfect pass to the back corner for a touchdown.
Minju felt like she knew exactly why girls were so drawn to quarterbacks at that moment. Here she was, screaming like a complete fool and jumping up and down in her team sweatshirt, yelling her brother's name and practically in tears. Dam,n does he look good in that uniform, Minju thought as he trotted off the field to let the kicking team on.
The rest of the game was a haze. She was so excited to see her brother finally playing as she was, but Minju almost couldn't handle it that he was leading them to a win. When the final second ticked off the clock, and it was her brother holding the ball, she giggled outright as he threw it up in the air in his excitement.
The team rallied and celebrated on the field, and her family was allowed to walk on while the rest of the crowd shuffled out of the stadium. Y/N hugged their mom and dad, picked Minju up, and spun her around in a circle. Minju could feel the sweat on his pads and the heat radiating from him until he set her down with a huge smile.
"I think it was all because of the shoulder massage, Minju," he said, "this ball's for you."
Minju felt him push the ball into her midsection like she had the water bottle into him the day before.
"You were so awesome, bro," Minju praised, "but you better take this thing back before somebody tries to tackle me."
"You mean like me!" He said, bending down to grab her waist and picking her up again, slinging her over his shoulder like it was nothing. Minju screamed and kicked, but he didn't set her down until he'd made her sufficiently dizzy. Their parents looked on and laughed the whole time.
Minju saw her brother's girlfriend looking at them from afar, clearly displeased that she wasn't getting all the attention. It gave Minju an odd sense of satisfaction, even if their relationships with her brother differed.
"You better go do the same thing to Eunju," Minju whispered when her brother put her down. She looked jealous."
Y/N sighed knowingly and gave his sister a hasty, final hug. Saying goodbye to his parents and Minju, Y/N ambled over to talk to his cheerleader-girlfriend. Minju couldn't help but notice him looking in her direction over Eunju's shoulder as she was leaving.
-
After that, things blew up. People went on and on about how poised her brother was in the game despite having minimal experience. He started in the away game the following week, and they won. It was a close game, and Y/N made some mistakes, but watching him on television, she couldn't help but see all of the strengths that people had been touting in the write-ups of his first big performance.
Minju congratulated her brother via text, and he quickly responded that he was looking forward to a Friday at home the following week.
-I bet you would have made that pass at the end of the first half if you had a shoulder massage!-
[I bet you're right. Do you think I'm a big loser for wanting to hang out with my little sister on a Friday night?]
Minju blushed, even though she was alone in her room with the lights off.
-Are you kidding, a loser? Did you SEE the game I just did?-
-Oh, that's right... you were that stud quarterback who WON it!-
[Thanks Minju, I can't wait to see you next week.]
God did he love his little sister, Y/N thought. He was in a cab on the way out to celebrate the victory that night, and all he could think about was how great it would be to talk through all the plays the way he had on the phone with Minju after his first game. Inevitably, there would be a thousand girls throwing themselves at him that night, but Y/N felt sure none of them could match his little sis. Maybe he was wrong, but first and foremost, they were hungry to sleep with a football player, and most of them wouldn't even be as attractive as Minju. If only she wanted that too, then he'd have the whole package. 'Ugh,' he shook off. It was probably the booze talking.
Minju wished they'd seen his potential from the very start. Her brother started and won every game for the rest of the season, which was already more than half over when he'd first come out onto the field for that fateful second half. Because they had enough losses before that, there wasn't much left to make of their season when Y/N stepped in, but there was a lot of talk about the season to come.
And each week, each home game at least, Minju and Y/N hung out just the two of them for as much time as they could. She couldn't stand that he insisted on Eunju coming over, hearing them in his bedroom after she got home from school, but glad to see her leave shortly after. Y/N had insisted that their parents give him time to himself (with Minju...and Eunju), and they'd obliged, given his success on the field.
Their time together was usually the same: a movie and a lot of talking about what was going on in their lives. But for Minju, her feelings were slowly evolving. She couldn't help it. Everybody was talking about him. Her parents were so proud, and girls at school went on and on about how hot he was. Being that he was the quarterback of the state college team, the exposure meant constant reminders of him everywhere Minju went.
So her attitude toward him was gradually changing whether she knew it or not. She'd often lay on top of her shirtless brother for a long time after kneading his back, just enjoying the deep bass in his voice that vibrated her chest as they bantered. Minju began to crave that time with her brother, cuddling seemingly closer every week when they watched a movie. She simply wanted to be with him.
And Y/N was no dummy. Despite being a big, burly football player, he was quite smart, or so he told himself. It wasn't as if he didn't notice that his little sister was not so resistant to touch his back anymore or that she was wearing seemingly less and less every time she came downstairs for their movie. Yet, it still felt... natural. Many girls were throwing themselves at Y/N nowadays, but Minju had earned his attention rather than exploited it, and he liked giving it to her.
There was this one day he'd almost called her out for it. She might as well have been naked... well, not quite, but perhaps the fact that he'd never seen her naked, and this was as close as he'd get, was why he kept his mouth shut.
The underwear was enough to make him shiver: an orange-ish pair of panties, simple but tight at each curve and the gap between her thighs. They had a white edge that he followed with his eyes as it wrapped around her tiny waist and those damned legs of hers. But then the shirt, or was it a sheet? This draped white thing with a big curved neck exposed her almost from shoulder to shoulder. The tiny sleeves were all that held it up. And, of course, it didn't reach more than halfway down her upper half. His little sister's entire midsection, perhaps one of his favorite parts of hers, was left entirely to his view.
Both of the small pieces of clothing looked somewhat transparent. Y/N wanted to look long enough to determine whether he was seeing the dark circles of Minju's nipples or the tiny dark slit at the gap between her thighs, but he tore his gaze away before it became inappropriate. He couldn't believe that you could buy clothing like that or that his little sister was wearing it around him. Did it look that good on other girls because Y/N was practically hard during the entire movie, and wondering why his sister would be so brazen around him? Did she know how attracted to her he was that night?
Suddenly, he couldn't get Eunju out of the house fast enough on Fridays, though he believed he needed the release the night before the game. More and more, it seemed like she was just happy to be the girlfriend of the star quarterback; he got a little release when he needed it, and she got to parade him around when she wanted to.
And just like that, the season was over.
The hype continued for a few weeks after their last game. He had to do some interviews and a couple of articles for newspapers and magazines. He was no international star, but the college team fanatics demanded plenty of him. The holidays came and went, and we were busy as usual. Before they knew it, Minju and her brother were well into the second half of the school year.
Sometimes, he couldn't make it on Friday nights to be home with his little sister. Y/N had loaded up his second semester with classes to make the workload easier during the football season. He felt awful, but she understood, making him love her even more.
But when he did make it home, it was awesome. Every time he saw her, Y/N seemed to get closer to his little sister. And she just kept getting more beautiful. She was only recently eighteen, and every day, she became more aware of her body and how to carry herself. Each day on his way home, Y/N guiltily looked forward to what his little sister might wear that night.
Sometimes, he wondered if the two of them were toying with each other, playing with the possibility that one of them might do something rash. But he knew how happy it made Minju to have someone like him that she could entirely rely on to make her feel comfortable; he didn't want to ruin that. He didn't know that Minju was struggling to respect him similarly. But they loved their time together so much that it didn't matter.
They were starting to talk on the phone regularly or at least text when he hadn't seen her in a while. They were so busy with schoolwork, sports, and training that they marked their weeks by the time they talked to or saw each other. Sooner than both Y/N and Minju could have imagined, pages of the dog calendar their mother hung in the kitchen flipped by, and the summer was upon them.
Y/N had trained almost daily for the upcoming football season. He'd never expected his responsibilities to become important to him, his coaches, or his team. Add to that, finishing up a semester of college, and his schedule was chock-full. The first week of summer would be a much-needed breather, but then it would be off to summer training camp. He even had time to spend with his family and a few days hanging out with only his little sis. They took a day out on the lake together, went to dinner one night, and even agreed to go shopping with her the day before he left for summer training camp.
"I don't want you to go," Minju said, her big, green, puppy-dog eyes looking teary. She dreaded that this would be the first summer she didn't get to spend with her brother.
"Do you have to?" Minju asked sadly, feeling her brother's big, strong arms wrap around her in the middle of the department store.
"I don't want to leave you, Minju, but I want to be at my best for next season. It's gonna be a big year for me." He said regretfully, holding her close enough to catch the subtle shampoo scent in her soft, brown hair.
"We can talk or text any time you want," he promised, pulling back and staring into her sad eyes.
That only made her feel marginally better, but she shook her head knowingly. Y/N held his sister for a while as they walked through the store. She picked out a new pair of sweatpants that admittedly excited Y/N, reminding him of how she usually looked when she'd be wearing them and the time they spent together... how they rode low, and her hip bones were often revealed to his wandering eyes as she laid in front of him on the couch.
"What do you think? She said, coming out of the changing room for the third time.
Minju saw her brother jump when he looked up from the green sweatpants he recognized as the ones she'd picked out. Suddenly, he was looking away like his eyes were burning.
"Minju!" He said, looking back toward her through his hand.
"WHAT?" She mocked, giggling.
"You can't wear that out here!"
He was probably right, she had on the sweatpants, as low as she possibly could wear them. The lines of her toned abdomen led down to what was likely a totally bare pussy based on what her brother could see. But the top wasn't a top at all. It was a sexy, black bra. The lace revealed much of her breasts to her brother's eyes. He'd always been totally caught off guard by how amazing his sister's tits were, but this was more than she'd ever let him see.
"Oh you can look Oppa, stop being such a wuss."
He did slowly look back in his little sister's direction, but it felt like he shouldn't. Yet, as soon as he saw how the black lace pushed his sister's breasts upward and most of the demi-cup left her chest bare, Y/N wasn't about to look away.
"So... what do you think?"
"Incredible..." he said, unwittingly. Minju's breasts had been amazing for years, and now that the rest of her body had caught up, he was like a helpless puppy.
"The sweatpants and the bra?" she asked with a huge grin.
Y/N was so embarrassed. He'd literally just complimented his little sister's tits, her beautiful body... no question there. Thank god she'd let him off the hook.
"I think you should buy them, both of them." He said without flinching.
Minju had never felt sexier. As her brother pretended, poorly, that he wasn't looking up and down every inch of tanned skin she'd revealed to him, she realized how loved it made her feel. Plenty of guys had complimented her before, but nobody made her knees feel weak the way that Y/N did. She turned around and headed back to the changing room after being sufficiently convinced that he'd liked what he saw. Y/N almost exploded when he saw the dimples in her lower back and then their eyes met quickly before Minju perked her little butt up for him once and then closed the door behind her.
Y/N had to take a deep breath. What on earth had gotten into him? And what about her? God damnit did she look breathtaking in even the simple two pieces of clothing. Why did she insist on flaunting it in front of him, and why was he feeling so much like touching her?
Minju walked out of the dressing room wearing what she had on before she went in. Somehow seeing her clothed now got him just as excited. Even the cute flannel shirt and tank-top she was wearing made her beautiful, and he wondered if he'd see the bra and sweatpants she was holding in her hand again before he left.
When Y/N stood, his little sister stopped him before he could exit the changing rooms. Nobody was around; it felt private... intimate as she placed hand on the middle of his chest.
Minju rested her head against him and wrapped her free arm around his back. Everywhere she touched he was just...solid. When his arms encircled her she felt that familiar tingling coursing through her, made stronger as she sensed the strong beat of his heart against her hand.
"I'm really going to miss you, you know that, right?" She said quietly, like she didn't want anyone else to hear.
"I know little one, I'm going to miss you too."
Before he could do or say anything else, Minju stood up tall and kissed him right on the lips. His face had been downturned and his eyes closed as he held her; he didn't even know it was coming.
But her lips were so soft. There was a hint of sweetness on them, and they moved ever so slightly. He shouldn't have been kissing his little sister that way, with his hands around her and the kiss lasting longer than it could have. But nobody could see them, and nobody had to know who they were. In that moment, the kiss felt like the best way to say goodbye.
Minju dropped back from her tiptoes and finally took a breath, realizing how fast her heart was beating. She hadn't planned it, but all of the sudden their lips were together and she didn't want it to end. 'Why did he have to go?' she repeated in her head again and again, knowing the answer but still feeling frustrated.
They didn't get much more after that. They talked and laughed and played around for a bit longer before it was time to go. Even after the kiss, everything just felt ...normal...right. She hated that pulling back into the driveway meant they were all that much closer to her brother leaving for the summer, but she was finally coping with it. She lay awake that night listening to her dad and brother talk in the other room as he packed until she finally drifted off to sleep thinking of Y/N.
Minju went with her dad to take Y/N to the airport the next day, but there would certainly be no more kissing her brother the way they had the day before. She looked down at her feet as her dad was shaking her brother's hand and wishing him good luck before heading back to the drivers' seat.
"Hey," he said, putting his finger below her chin and lifting it up to him. His heart almost broke apart to see that Minju had tears in her eyes. "Ohhh Minju', come on, you're killin' me."
She half giggled, half sobbed as their gazes met.
"I love you little sis, and it's only a few months," he assured her.
"I know," she sighed, "it's just...ughhhh!" Minju stomped her foot on the ground like she was going to throw a fit. She was so upset to be losing her best friend, even if it was only temporarily.
"Just go... you big jerk."
"I'm already marking our Fridays on my calendar for next year, and I'll see you on the sidelines too."
"Okay," Minju agreed half-heartedly, knowing she still had to make the cheerleading team but flattered her brother just assumed she would.
"I love you too," she said finally.
She jerked when her brother kissed her cheek and then squeezed her side like he always did. Watching him walk away, she felt like it was going to be a long summer.
-
It was tough without him, but not unbearable. A couple times a week they would text about what was going on at the football camp or how Minju was choosing her schedule, this and that. She'd gotten into the state college during Y/N's amazing football season and knew she'd be going there from the minute she opened the letter. The program they had for her major was one of the top in the country, so she didn't feel like she was just following her brother to the same college.
In fact, she was looking forward to them being at the same school. Y/N was going to be a junior and Minju a freshman. Despite being very independent and proud of it, Minju had already made some friends due to Y/N's newfound fame. Every time somebody recognized her last name in the programs and orientations she attended over the summer, she felt proud to call him big brother.
Minju looked forward to the times he would call her on the phone. It was always late at night, sometimes waking her up, but Minju was so glad to see his number pop up that she awoke immediately an answered with an excited "hey big bro!"
Y/N could sometimes hear his sister waking. He imagined that she was wearing one of those outfits from their Friday nights at home. Laying in her bed, maybe in just a tiny pair of underwear she felt sexy in, Y/N could hear his little sister yawn and he pictured her tiny frame stretching out under the covers.
Sometimes late at night, their conversations felt so private, almost secretive. Whether it was the fact that they were both in a darkened room with nobody else around or that they weren't wearing much or something else, to Minju it felt kind of naughty. She thought that the way they talked was more like the way she imagined talking to a boyfriend, one she didn't have of course.
And Y/N didn't have anybody but Minju. Eunju would call now and again, but she was... not all that interesting to talk to. Usually, when he hung up with his girlfriend, he couldn't go to bed until he talked to his little sister, hoping to have some meaningful conversation before he finally turned in.
"Hey Minju', how come you never let any of those boys you tell me about take you out on more than a date or two?" Y/N asked her one of the nights when they were both talking in bed a couple hundred miles away from each other.
"Well that's a little personal, isn't it, Mr. Nosy?" she responded.
"Well, seeing as how you asked what Eunju looks like naked, I think we're past being bashful about stuff like this," Y/N chided back.
He was probably right; Minju was feeling competitive one night when her brother told her he'd just hung up with his girlfriend and she wanted to know. She was now confident that her body, especially her chest was sufficiently more appealing to her brother (apparently, he was a "breasts man")
"FINE..." she replied, "I dunno, I guess I just... I haven't met anybody worthwhile yet. And they all want to get in my pants on like, the first date. It's exhausting."
"Aww shoot, Minju, I didn't know that. I mean, you gotta give the guys a little slack though you know?"
"Why would I do that??" Minju asked, frustrated
"Well, you're... I dunno... you're really..." he couldn't seem to get the words out.
"I'm what Oppa?" Minju asked, sort of expecting her brother to say something about her being too stuck-up or bitchy.
"How do I say this..." he continued, hoping she would give him an out.
Minju just waited in silence, wondering what he was trying to say.
"Ugh, fine." he started, "You're hot, Minju. Guys are going to want to hook up with you when they first see you. Frankly, I'm worried about it for when you start at school with me."
"Oh..." Minju said. Y/N wished he could be there with his little sis so they didn't have an unknown, uncomfortable silence on the phone. He was glad when she continued:
"That doesn't mean they can just be dogs all the time though. One guy actually pulled the car over and asked if I would blow him on the way home from our second date!"
"Whoa..." Y/N let out, sounding upset, "That's not okay... Who is he? What's his name?"
Minju smiled when she heard her brother getting mad. As much as she would like to see her brother pummel that douchebag Hyunmin, Y/N wanting to defend her was reward enough.
"Oh, relax Oppa, you'll never need to see him, nor will I."
"Hmmph..." He sighed, sounding unsatisfied, "So...did you?"
"Did I what?... OH GOD NO!" Minju gasped, "Did you need to ask?!"
She could hear her brother laughing on the other end. "No, I figured. I just wanted to rile you up."
Minju giggled, too. He did always knew how to push her buttons.
"Can I tell you something Oppa?"
"Sure Minju', anything."
"I've never done... 'it'... before."
Y/N paused a few seconds, trying to process what he'd just heard. Though he hadn't thought his little sister would ever share something like that with him, a small part of Y/N was happy to hear that she was a virgin.
"Oh..." he responded, "You know that's totally okay right? A lot of girls get all worried about it but you shouldn't be."
"I know," Minju said, "but I just don't want to come off as really prude like I'm above it or something; I just haven't found the right guy."
"...and that's awesome." Y/N assured her, "I think it makes you even more attractive. Like you know what you want, and it means something to you."
Minju curled up tightly in her bed. She bit the tip of her thumb, thinking about what her brother was telling her. Not only was someone she loved and wholly respected telling her not to worry about something she'd spent all too much time agonizing about, but he was also telling her that it made her more attractive.
"What about you?" Minju asked, "I mean I guess I know you've done it before."
"Yeah, I guess you do..." he said, knowing that Minju had heard him with Eunju before and feeling somewhat bad about it now that she'd told him she was a virgin. "But I wish I thought about it the way you did or that I could."
"What do you mean?" asked his little sister.
"Well when you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend and you have sex, things can just kind of change. Sometimes I wish I could really take time to care about someone before jumping into it. You can do that, at least."
He paused, seeming to be hung up on his feelings.
"Eunju and I...well... I don't want to talk about her.
Minju could hear some hurt in her brother's voice. She felt terrible for razzing him all the time about his girlfriend.
"It's okay Oppa, I know things can be complicated sometimes."
He was quiet.
"Do you know how much I love you?" Minju asked.
"No, how much is that?" Y/N said, smiling again.
Minju put on the most innocent, girly voice she could, "LIKE...sooooo much," she said. He could almost hear her smiling through the phone.
"I love you too Minju." Y/N told her.
For the moment of silence that followed, both Minju and her brother truly wished they weren't talking over the phone but instead being there with each other. It wasn't just that he knew his little sister would be wearing very little and stretched out alone in her bed. It was also that he wanted to hold her so she could understand how much he meant that he loved her. Minju, too wondered how he might touch her if they embraced right then. Her skin tingled, wondering what her brother might look like after the months of workouts he'd been telling her about. Something told her she'd be intimidated by how big and muscular he'd gotten.
She wanted to say something more. The tingling sensation working its way from her core out to her fingers and toes made Minju speak without thinking,
"I wish you were here with me," she said. Her fingers traced a path from her neck down to the curve of her breast.
Y/N could hear something more in his sister's voice, and though he knew he shouldn't, he wanted her to feel the same thing her words doing to him.
"I wish I were there with you too Minju."
Minju's whole body was feeling warmer. She didn't know what to think about how he was making her feel.
"Goodnight little sis," Y/N said after waiting long enough.
"Goodnight big bro," she said, not meaning to sound quite as sexy as she did.
"Two weeks," Y/N said right before he hung up, hearing his little sister say sleepily, "I can't wait." as he hit a button to end the call.
Was he going crazy? Was he supposed to feel like if his little sister was in the room right then he would have been unable to help himself touching her all over, running his hands over her body: those wonderful breasts he longed to see, kissing her beautiful neck and shoulders, caressing her legs. Did she know that he'd hung up the phone and found himself fully hard, thinking of her in a way he knew he should not?
She was just so gorgeous. Even over the phone he was conjuring up all the times he'd looked at her and marveled at her beauty. What was he going to do when they were finally going to school together? What if he had to watch guys talk to her, flirt with her, even make a move. Y/N knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep until he took care of his erection. Strong as his feelings were, he couldn't force the images of his barely clothed little sister out of his mind. When he finally released the pent up excitement he'd discovered in talking to Minju, it was to the image of her lying in bed.
He couldn't possibly know, but his little sister had done the very same thing, imagining that Y/N came home and finally helped her understand what it might feel like to be with a boy.
-
Two weeks flew by. Both Y/N and Minju had fully packed schedules before he was to return home. When their heads hit the pillow at night, they were lucky to even exchange a few texts before falling asleep.
Then, Minju came home from the gym one day during the week before school started and almost fainted at the sight of her brother. Not only was she so unbelievably glad to see him, but he looked incredible. He was tan from all the time out in the sun. His hair had grown longer and unruly. He even had a dark scruff on his face, so he looked considerably older. And he was huge! He filled out an old t-shirt so it looked stretched across his muscles. His chest, his arms, his abs! Minju felt so guilty when she sensed herself getting wet as she approached him.
And Y/N was in for even more of a treat than his sister, or at least he thought so. She had obviously spent some time in the sun, but her body... God was she even more beautiful than he remembered. It had been less than three months and he wondered if it was the same girl. Or perhaps he was seeing her differently, still unbelieving that such a beautiful girl could also be his little sister.
Her stomach was flat as ever, with a hint of her abs showing when she ran over to jump into his arms. She wrapped her toned little legs around him and squeezed him tight. Y/N remembered talking with Minju about the size of her boobs compared to his girlfriend's and he knew as she pressed them against him, even in a sports bra, that Minju's were bigger.
"Are you ready for school next week?" He said excitedly, setting her cute bottom on the counter top. Y/N was glad their parents weren't around because he was definitely taking some liberties with his hands, leaving them on her hips as he set her down.
Minju shook her head, 'Yes,' looking anxious and adorable at the same time. She had imagined her brother coming home so many times, and this was even better. She couldn't help herself from leaning in and planting a quick peck on his lips.
They were quiet, contented, for a while. Neither of them really cared to speak. Y/N was standing between his little sister's legs and holding her close enough that he was glad he hadn't gotten hard...yet. Even thinking about it worried him that Minju might soon be feeling something she shouldn't pressing against the tight fabric of her workout shorts.
"I know you're going to hate me for this, but I have to be at school 24/7 before our first game in a week and a half.
Minju's mouth dropped open. She was half-pretending, she'd expected it based on everything he'd been telling her over the phone. When he saw his little sister crack a grin instead of the big grimace he expected, Y/N narrowed his eyes at her.
"I know, I won't give you too much shit about it. I'm just really happy you're home!" She said, hugging him again. Y/N was truly worried she might feel something in his shorts.
"...And so BIG!" she fawned, seeing his worry disappear as she put her hands on his shoulders and rubbed them. He could tell she was giving him a hard time, acting like one of the many girls he expected to encounter on his first week back.
"Will you come back on Friday before the game?"
"Well the coach made a big deal about it, but after telling him it was my ritual every time last year... and then you know... we won every game... he gave in."
Minju showed her beautiful white smile, and it was all Y/N really needed to see that day. He was so glad to be holding his little sister and to know that nothing had changed about how they interacted, even though he knew the way he felt about her had.
-
The week before school started, tryouts for the cheerleading team were held. Minju had been working all summer for her big moment, and she knew she was ready. Y/N had even walked with her from her dorm to the facility and given her a big hug before sending her in. She felt all the more confident that he believed in her.
"Can I watch?" Y/N had asked.
"NO!" Minju fired back. She did not want him to see just in case she didn't make it.
"Aww, Minju, you know you're going to kill it, right?" he said, hugging her and pushing her through the door. His touch on her lower back was comforting; it lingered even as she walked out into the gym when her name was called.
She needn't have been nervous. The panel of four girls, a coach and an assistant coach were all that was there to watch her do her routines. There were a few routines they published online weeks before, and one that Minju was supposed to compose on her own. Everybody had seemed pleased after she completed the pre-selected routines, but everybody had cheered and clapped when she finished her own. Everybody but one... Eunju.
Even though she felt like she'd nailed every part, the fact that someone on the panel had held their applause made her nervous. She hated to admit it, but Minju really was getting her hopes up for being on the cheerleading team. If she was really good, they might even let her cheer for the football team in her first year, but she had to be truly impressive.
She was ecstatic to get a callback that day, and to be told that practice started that weekend. Y/N told her he knew she'd make it, and that he'd be shocked if they didn't put her on the field with him.
When the Friday before his first game finally came around, Minju rushed home—the first week of school had been crazy. She'd started all of her classes, been really successful at cheer practice and she was really hopeful that she'd make the first team and maybe cheer during one of the earlier football games. She didn't look forward to hearing or seeing Eunju, Minju thought as she pulled in the driveway, but she was out of control excited to spend her first Friday catching up with her brother.
When he entered, there was no noise, no sign of her brother's girlfriend, and the house sounded pretty quiet. She heard a bowl clinking in the kitchen, so she followed the sound inward.
"Hey you, where's your girl?" Minju asked
"She's not coming today," Y/N said, sounding strange.
"Oh...um... is everything okay?" Minju continued, coming up behind her brother and putting a hand gently on his shoulder.
"Yeah," he said, sounding exhausted, "I don't think either of us will be seeing her much anymore."
"Oh no, I'm sorry Oppa, did something happen?"
"Don't worry about it, Minju. I'm not. It was a long time coming, " he said, but she could tell it was wearing on him. Minju draped herself over her brother's muscular shoulders, and she could feel him start to relax. She knew he was upset but was desperate to do anything that would make him feel better.
"How about you can pick the movie tonight? And if you're really lucky I'll even throw in a back-rub."
He knew she would do that anyway, but it made him smile to hear her offer. Y/N always liked that Minju didn't only talk about football with him, especially right before the game. She might ask a few questions about who they were playing, but she didn't get him all anxious the way others might if he didn't hole up at his house. It was just one more reason why he liked being around her so much.
They both had work to do before they could hang out, but around the time it was getting dark and their parents would be meeting after work for their weekly dinner date, Y/N waited for his little sister in the TV room. It had been a long time since they last did this, and he was a little nervous about what might happen since their relationship had progressed.
He had to keep his jaw from dropping when she came bouncing down the stairs, or rather her breasts did. Just as she promised, she was wearing the outfit that she'd tried on right before he went off to training camp months ago. Was it possible that she filled out her bra even better than before, because she certainly looked it? And the pants, hanging like they might fall at any second but for the drawstring around her waist.
This wasn't going to be easy. Now that he didn't have the typical release of spending an hour or so with his girlfriend, spending time with his far hotter little sister seemed like it might not be as easy. It worried him even more as he watched her perfect, round breasts shudder and threaten to escape her struggling bra with each step she took down the stairs.
It was nice to have his eyes on her like that again. Minju hadn't felt so desirable since they'd last had real alone time, and her brother's gaze was more than welcome. Just being in his company and him in hers made the two of them buzz with love for each other and excitement about being together.
"Lie down over here will ya?" Minju asked after they'd been watching the movie and chatting for a while. She could tell he was tense, far more than expected and she just wanted to help.
Y/N obliged, sucking in a breath when he felt his hot little sister straddle him. He was truly glad to be lying face down, because the thought of her perched on top of him in that outfit was driving him nuts. She was actually quite good at massaging him, seeming to know all of the tight spots after doing it many times. Y/N was finally starting to feel a lot better when she'd been doing it no more than a few minutes.
At some point, when Minju was trying hard to get him in the right spots on his back, she shifted over and the back of his leg as pressing against her mound. She hadn't meant to, it had just kind-of...happened. She couldn't help that it felt really good. But as she moved around, pressing her hands into different spots on her brother's muscular back, it just kept arousing her more and more.
Y/N had no idea it was going on either, he was in a sleepy state after how good his sister's hands were making him feel. He heard her breathing heavier, thinking she was just exerting herself as she pressed harder on him.
It never took her very long, especially not when she was really turned on; Minju should have known better. She was just sitting down harder on her brother, leaning into him to 'get more leverage on his back,' or so he might think. Minju didn't know what had gotten into her, but within only a minute or two of feeling her brother's leg pushing against her pussy and her little clit being trapped and stimulated just the way she liked it, she was lost. She had to try hard beyond measure not to make a sound, yet she couldn't stop herself squirming.
It only took a moment, and Minju managed to stay quiet. Her arousal that had built up in the time she spent apart from her brother did the brunt of the work. All it took was a little push, back and forth, of her hips and then suddenly she was clenching her legs. She bit down hard on her lip, desperate not to reveal what she'd just done and feeling embarrassed as a short but powerful orgasm took her.
Y/N came to when he heard his sister take a few sharp breaths atop him. He couldn't see her face, but he would have seen her coming down from her orgasm and trying to catch her breath. Her hands weren't doing much anymore.
"Tired little sis?" He asked.
From the tone of his voice, Y/N didn't know anything. She felt guilty, but Minju thought maybe she could get off without him knowing and without experiencing any of the embarrassment.
"Uh huh," Minju lied. She lifted her hips off of him so he wouldn't feel it if she'd gotten too wet.
"What if I took a turn for a change?" Y/N asked.
It was the only thing Minju could think of to put her out of harm's way, or at least her brother's discovery.
She agreed and laid down on the floor where he'd just been. After cumming, her skin was sensitive and crawling for his touch. Even when his fingers grazed her, Minju could feel it through her whole body. He started slow, and then worked his fingers into the tight spots on her shoulders. His hands felt terrific - big and strong, and a little bit rough from all his hard work.
Maybe Minju didn't know she was doing it, but Y/N absolutely loved the way his little sister was letting out adorable sighs and moans when he touched her just right. Y/N was probably getting just as much enjoyment as his little sis from his touching her.
He wasn't sure why he thought it would be okay, but her bra was simply in the way. In one quick motion, Y/N unclasped his little sister's lacy top. It sprung open and revealed her back to him, and Minju quickly opened an eye to look backward at him. When he didn't offer an explanation, she stayed quiet.
The tension seemed more incredible then, but his hands felt even better. Y/N could see his little sister's tits spreading out from her thin frame as she lay against the floor. He wanted to touch them; he even got close a few times with his fingers. Minju was fully aware of every square inch of her body that he felt: the way his fingers daringly slipped just beneath the waistband of her sweats, or how he grasped the tops of her hips a few times like he wanted to pull her towards him. After only a few moments, both of them were totally turned on, though neither was about to admit it to each other.
If Y/N hadn't seen it, they would have been totally screwed. The flash of headlights shown in the room for only a second.
Their parents had walked in on them watching a movie before, even when Minju was wearing relatively inappropriate clothing. But in the position they were and with Minju's suggestive bra unclasped, it would have looked a bit more...naughty. Minju didn't even know what hit her before she was being scooped up and flipped around into her brother's arms as he took two stairs at a time up to her bedroom.
"Oppa what th...!" Minju gasped as he manhandled her. Her hands darted to the dangling bra that she'd only just managed to hold on to. Then she was twisted around and had her legs wrapped around her brother's wide frame before she could speak another word. As they hit the top of the stairs, she heard her parents at the door.
Y/N dashed into his sister's room and then stood quietly, both of them being very still in their utterly suggestive position. Even in their haste, both siblings could intimately sense Minju's loosely covered breasts against Y/N's chest, and she couldn't be sure, but was something extra trapped between their hips?
"Kids, we're home!" Their mother called out as she came in.
"Up here, be down in a minute!" Y/N called back.
When he was sure they were in the clear, he flopped back onto the bed and took his first deep breath. Minju laughed first; of course, she would find that funny.
"Oh my god that was close!" She said, giggling.
"Well we wouldn't have to be worried if you were still wearing your bra!" Y/N said righteously.
"Um excuse me, I wasn't the one who took it off," Minju said.
By the time they'd reached the bedroom her bra no longer covered either of her breasts. It was still trapped between them, but looking down Y/N could see the full weight of his little sister's chest held between his and hers. They were big and hanging down slightly as she propped herself up to look at her brother. With an adorable and mischievous look on her face, she looked irresistible, perched on top of her brother with both her knees on the bed.
"I didn't mean anything by it, I was just..." he started, obviously not knowing where he was going with it.
Minju smiled at him, "I know you didn't," she said, letting him off the hook. She wiggled her hips playfully as she said it, and Minju was almost positive she could feel her brother's cock tucked up between their two connected hips and at least partially hard. The way it was pressing against Minju right where Y/N definitely shouldn't have been made Minju desperate to know if she was the cause or not. Whatever it was, her brother felt big.
Knowing that their parents would be waiting for them downstairs, Y/N spoke first, breaking the silence caused by the way the two of them lay on Minju's bed.
"You should probably cover those up," he said, half-heartedly looking away.
Minju reached for her bra and finally sat up on top of her brother. For a split second, her breasts were neither covered by her hands or her bra, and Y/N must have seen, because Minju felt her brother throb against her where he was touching below. Not wanting to be captive and helpless to his beautiful sister, or so obviously showing her his affection with his growing stiffness, Y/N reached up to his sister's enticing sides. She was about to inhale profoundly and let him touch her, but instead, he only savored her soft skin for a second before he forcibly tossed her off of him onto the other half of the bed.
"HEY!" she shrieked
"Time to put some clothes on, little sis," Y/N said callously. See you downstairs."
And then he left. She watched him walk out, still holding her arms up to cover her breasts so he didn't see, but a part of Minju wasn't entirely sure she didn't want him to.
This was uncharted territory for Minju and her brother both. As they spent the rest of the night around their parents, both tried hard to wrap their heads around what was going on between them. On one hand, they were still spending time together on Fridays like they always did, laughing and conversing with the same fantastic level of comfort that seemed to make Minju's weekend. And when Y/N woke up in the morning he was smiling and simply glad to have had the time with his baby sis despite the anxiety of a big game ahead.
On the other hand, both siblings had gone to bed thinking of each other in ways that they weren't supposed to. But imagining Minju wearing even less on top of Y/N than just the pair of sweatpants she had been was a dream they both shared that night, 'supposed to' or not.
Just before the game the next day, Minju got an email that she was to attend a different cheerleading practice on Monday. She was going to be cheering on the football field at their home game in two weeks! Minju was ecstatic and wanted badly to tell her brother, but decided to let him focus and wait until after the game.
There was a lot of talk about how the football team would play in their first home game. There was equal coverage of Y/N and how he would perform starting his first full season. Minju was perfectly confident that he would blow the competition away.
And he did... for a time. He started strong, very practiced in every play. They went into the half leading, but Minju's dad wasn't impressed.
"He looks a little off today, don't you think?" said her father.
"You know honey, I noticed that too. What do you think is up?" Minju's mom asked.
She wracked her brain. Suddenly, Minju hoped that the way she'd teased her brother wasn't the cause. She felt guilty all of the sudden. Perhaps it hadn't been fair to him for her to flaunt herself like that. It was selfish. His attention made Minju feel good and she hadn't taken him into account. It was especially bad considering Y/N wasn't with his girlfriend anymore.
"Did you notice anything last night Minju?" Her mother asked.
"No, not really mom. He was just as happy to be home like he usually is." Minju assured them.
And she wasn't lying. Aside from being a bit downtrodden about breaking up with Eunju, he'd been very playful and content with her the night before.
Yet, when he came out for the second half, the same rustiness seemed to be staying with him. Perhaps it was the team. Nobody seemed to be blaming Y/N for the way their offense was playing, but before long they were losing. And then the fourth quarter was nearly over. And then... the whistle blew for the end of game and Y/N's team had not done enough.
He was understandably bummed when they met him on the field after the game.
"Sorry bro," Minju said compassionately, feeling him wrap his arm around her side and walk toward the locker rooms with their parents. She looked cute in her little, team t-shirt, but Y/N wasn't really in the mood to check her out just then.
"Yeah... " he said dejectedly, "I don't know why we couldn't pull that one out... damn."
"Don't beat yourself up too much about it, you promise?" Minju asked, looking up at him hopefully.
"I won't." He said. "Maybe I'll just beat you up."
That elicited a smile from his sister, but Minju could tell his heart wasn't in it. She felt bad for him; he was probably internalizing what was just the whole team's off performance.
"See you soon?" Minju asked, "Next Friday at the latest?"
"...away game," Y/N sighed. "But the week after for sure."
He squeezed Minju's side before breaking contact and saying goodbye to their parents. Minju watched him jog back to the lockers and hoped he wouldn't be depressed about the loss for too long. She hadn't even told him about her cheerleading spot, but that could wait until later when he might be more willing to share in her excitement.
-
That week went by even faster than the last. It was Minju's second week of school and she was loving every minute of it. She only got to sit down to lunch with Y/N once before he was off to the away game, and when she'd told him her news he had been so happy for her. She wished furiously, as he hugged her, that she might someday find somebody who cared about her the way Y/N did.
It turned out that Minju hadn't just been brought onto the football cheerleading team, but she'd replaced someone. Of course, it had to be Eunju. And making the team wasn't the end of it.
"You know you're going to fuck this up right?" Eunju had asked, confronting Minju on the way to class one day that week. Minju wanted nothing more than to get away from her so she just kept walking.
"You don't belong in my spot, you little bitch." Eunju spat, obviously annoyed that Minju didn't intend to engage.
"Oh and tell that second string quarterback you call your brother to enjoy being tended to by his sister instead of his girlfriend... a lotta good that'll do him."
Minju didn't quite understand, but she wouldn't let Eunju talk bad about her brother.
"The only one who's second string here is you... bitch," Minju flung the blonde's words back in her face, "you were NEVER good enough for him. You were just EASY."
With that Minju turned on the path and headed into the Math & Science building. It took her a few minutes to calm down, and almost half the period to stop thinking about what Eunju had said...'tending to her brother.'
-
The away game did not go well. This time, Y/N did look bad. It was like he just couldn't find his stride. He gave up one interception in the first half and one in the second. The rest of the team could have played much better, but they simply didn't have that momentum that everyone had seen driven by the star quarterback. There were whispers that Y/N would be replaced if he kept playing like that, but that's all they were.
There was something that Minju heard in the locker room after cheer practice one day that week that put pieces together for her. It was hard for her to believe, but Eunju, whom she'd overheard, had made some sense.
"You know why he's playing like that?" She'd been gossiping out of sight in another part of the locker room near the showers, "because he doesn't have me."
"Oh come on," another girl on the team, who sounded like Tamara, laughed, "I know you two had your thing, but you weren't exactly throwing the ball for him!"
"Think what you want, but he's the one who insisted that I come over on the day before the game... he said having sex helped him play better."
"Yeah, right," Tamara said, "that's a myth."
"You say that, but we did it before every game last year..." she'd continued, but Minju didn't want to hear it.
No way. No way hooking up with that blonde bimbo before their Friday nights together was helping her brother win.
Minju kept repeating that to herself all week until Friday arrived. But at some point, she didn't believe it anymore. He'd always been so quick to shoo Eunju out the door on Fridays, but he HAD invited her there week after week anyway. And she was right; as far as Minju knew, her brother hadn't been hooking up with anyone else. Minju had only succeeded in teasing her brother with her skimpy clothing, certainly not helping him get any relief. Could it be her fault? It seemed ridiculous.
And then came the next thought - far more questionable than the last. Who was going to 'tend to her brother' now that she couldn't expect Eunju to do it before she came home that Friday? As far as she knew, Minju would be the only girl around, the only one Y/N was technically allowed to see. He could start seeing another girl, but she knew her brother, and he didn't just start sleeping with somebody because he needed to get some ass.
The thought that it might be up to Minju to... relieve him... and more so than just giving a back massage seemed crazy to her. Y/N would never go for it. They were brother and sister; no way! Minju thought.
But by the time she arrived home on Friday, Minju had debated with herself a thousand times about it. She'd been hinting at her brother toward something for a long time, always knowing that he'd never cross the line with her. But what if she told him it was okay to? She'd sensed that he was hard that one day on her bed. She'd seen him looking. She'd felt his hands touching her back in ways a brother wasn't supposed to after he'd unhooked her bra. What if he wanted something, and she was just naive or self-centered? What if it was way easier than she was making it out to be.
Y/N could tell something was up with his sister when he got home, despite her pretending.
"Do you know how excited I am to see you on the sideline tomorrow Minju'?" he asked, eliciting a massive smile from his sister.
The way she looked right then was how he wanted to picture her always. A big smile, flashing her teeth because she couldn't help herself. A cute, white tank-top, comfortable little shorts and her body language telling him that she'd been waiting to see him all week. It was crazy that they didn't see each other more often, going to the same school and all, but they were just so busy with the beginning of the school year and their respective activities. Seeing her now, with that radiating energy she carried with her everywhere she went, her perfect breasts stretching the neckline of her top, and legs that went on forever... he wondered why he didn't find the time.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Are you kidding," she said confidently, "I was ready for this since your first game."
"I knew it," Y/N said, "good because I don't need anyone else messing up out there on the field." He sounded somewhat anxious.
How on earth was Minju going to bring this up? By that point, she'd imagined and even gotten excited about the possibility of doing something for her older brother that his girlfriend might have done behind his bedroom door upstairs. She'd wondered what his cock might look like in her hand, what she would do with it if she got it there. Would he find her attractive enough to get hard. Minju had felt a boy before, even had one in her mouth once when she got a little too drunk, but the thought of doing that with her brother made her heart flutter. It made her shift in her seat and feel an unexpected tingling between her thighs.
Yet, she was hopelessly lost on how to propose it. It would be just for his benefit so he could play better the next day... She only wanted to help him win...
"I feel really bad," Minju started. I was always so mean to Eunju, and now I've taken her spot on the team."
Minju told her brother about the day Eunju had confronted her on the quad. She conveniently omitted the part about 'tending to him,' but he seemed impressed with his little sister's defense.
"Yeah, don't worry about her, Minju'. She's probably just mad at me and taking it out on you,"
"For breaking up with her?" Minju asked.
"Well, that... and I might have had something to do with you taking her spot."
"YOU DIDN'T?" Minju cried, fearful that she hadn't deserved the advance.
"No, no, no!" he stopped her, "it's nothing like that. I discovered she was intentionally sabotaging your chance of making the field team. A couple of your teammates told me she was talking shit to the coaches and voting against you for no reason."
"So what did you do?" Minju asked, hanging on his words.
"Well...I might have told the coaches that Eunju was making it personal." Minju was squeezing her brother's arm tightly as he leaned over the table. "I guess they agreed because pretty much the next day, I found out they had replaced her with you!"
Minju's mouth was agape. She had no idea.
"Don't worry about it, Minju. My spies told me that everybody wanted you on the field team, and this wasn't the first time that Eunju had created drama. Apparently, it was time for her to go, and they were waiting for someone talented enough to help them go through with it."
"I don't know what to say... Oppa..." Minju hesitated before throwing her arms around her brother and kissing him a few times on the neck.
Minju giggled as her brother tried to shrug her off.
"Alright, already," he said, feeling that he liked his little sister's kisses more than he should have.
If Minju thought she owed her brother something before, now she was overcome with the desire to repay him. Not only had he been spending time with her on Friday nights and being the perfect brother, but there was more. He'd gone to bat for her with the cheerleading team, risked losing his girlfriend, and then eventually lost her and any of the physical aspects that came with... all for his little sister. Her handsome, strong, and unflinchingly loving brother, Minju, was enamored as she looked at him.
Yet, it took her until hours later, when he was lying face-down in his usual spot on the carpet in the living room before she could build up the confidence to say anything. Feeling guilty, Minju hadn't changed into anything more revealing. Unbeknown to her, Y/N had been drooling over her since the minute he'd walked in the door. But now, she wondered if she should have put something on to make him more agreeable.
"Oppa," she said timidly, straddling his back. "can I ask you something?"
"Duh," he joked, his face pressed halfway into the carpet.
Minju paused. Her heart had been beating faster in anticipation of this moment, but now it felt like it might explode.
"I heard something... the other day..." she started.
"... yes?" Y/N prodded
"I heard some girls talking about you..." she continued. Y/N could hear the concern in her voice, so he maneuvered quite impressively under his sister's straddled position and faced her. She looked enticing with her legs spread right over his lap and her shorts bunched up even higher on her tanned legs. Y/N thought immediately that he might have made a mistake now that his manhood was getting the full brunt of the eighteen-year-old's sexiness.
"...and...what did they say?" Y/N felt like he was dragging it out of her.
"They seemed to think you weren't playing well because... you weren't..." Minju hesitated again, seeing her brother look up at her impatiently.
"...getting any."
Y/N laughed. It was a standard theory. Y/N somewhat believed the sentiment himself; that's why he'd always asked Eunju over to the house before he expected to hang out with his little sister, who would inevitably be tempting him throughout the night. Of course, people at school would speculate that his breakup with Eunju was causing him some issues.
"So what, you're wondering if it's true? If Eunju is the reason I'm not playing well? I bet she's the one you heard saying that in the first place, right?"
Minju paused for so long that he had to shake her hips with his hands to get her to speak.
"Well, yes, but that's not it. " Now for the hardest part. Again, she paused.
"Come on, Minju', spit it out!"
"I thought that, maybe... you know... I could help you if you needed."
At first, Y/N didn't say a word. His brain seemed to go numb with disbelief. His first reaction was to look at her, his gorgeous little sister, perched right on his lap. He couldn't believe she was suggesting it, even if he'd been secretly lusting for her. What was she telling, that he just do what he wanted with her... take off that tiny tank top of hers and reveal her small, naked body to him like he'd imagined. Both of them felt his cock throb beneath Minju's seated butt.
"Minju... I... we..." he stuttered, "No way, we shouldn't... I mean, we can't."
Minju had no idea what to expect. Her daydreams had all gone so much differently. One way, she'd imagined him simply flipping her over and tugging off her bottoms. She'd never had sex before, but he could fix that in one steady stroke, and she'd wanted it so bad. In another, she'd sucked on him in the kitchen right when he came in, convincing him that she needed to do it so he could win. In all of her scenarios, even now, Minju had trouble admitting that she wanted him and hoped that he wanted her, too. And now it seemed that he didn't.
"I didn't mean...I just thought that you might need it," she said, trailing off, disheartened, into a whisper.
Y/N didn't know what to say to her. He struggled not to let the image of his little sister being on top of him in a much different way enter his mind. He worried that she could feel him stiffening through his shorts that he would send her a different message when he needed to be simply saying no.
"I'm sorry," Minju said quietly, "I wasn't thinking, it was stupid."
There was this long exchange where the two looked into each other's eyes. In a moment that should have been uncomfortable or strange, they made a connection that shouldn't have been there after Y/N's reaction. Minju could feel that Y/N was trying to do the right thing. She hadn't thoroughly thought through what she was asking of him. Once again, she was being unfair.
"I'm gonna shower before Mom and Dad get home," she said after not too long. Do you want to eat all of that pie Mom left in the fridge before they do?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Y/N smiled sideways, "I'll have it ready when you get back,"
With that, Minju lifted herself off her brother, unsure whether to be disappointed or glad they hadn't crossed a very unsteady line. She scampered up the stairs, not wanting to look back at her brother and give away that she wished he'd chosen differently and didn't just want to help. She wanted him.
Y/N lay his head back in the same spot on the carpet. What was he thinking? He wanted her... he wanted Minju so badly. He'd spent countless nights leading up to that, either falling asleep thinking about her or dreaming of her in ways he'd feel guilty for in the morning. He'd wanted to see her naked little body, put his hands on the breasts that were incredibly generous for her frame, hold her hips as he discovered how tight she was... Now she was offering him a free pass, and he was just going to turn it down?
He knew that she had been so disappointed; that was the worst part. He kept seeing her face when he'd first said no: it had changed immediately from one of apprehension and hopefulness to complete embarrassment. How could he do that to her? She just wanted to help! He had to smooth things over, at the very least.
Y/N didn't know how long he lay there, but eventually, he built up the courage to talk to her and practically ran up the stairs. He wasn't thinking, opening the door behind which he'd heard the shower running in one swift motion,
"Minju, I didn't mean I didn't want you to; I just..." but then he stopped.
Minju was just bending over to take off her shorts. She was wearing an incredible pair of panties, cute, purple, and lacy, but only that. She was topless, and now that her shorts were off, nearly bottomless as well. Minju quickly covered her breasts with her arm, but her brother had seen them unclothed.
It took him too long to realize that he was staring or had stopped in the middle of a sentence. He'd never seen Minju entirely so revealed to him; he hadn't been prepared. Y/N's brain searched for words, but it seemed entirely too focused on what his little sister looked like in front of him and what it made him want of her.
Minju had not expected him either. She had wanted to take a shower because she simply felt... dirty after asking if her brother wanted 'help' and then being denied. But now he was there. He was staring at her shamelessly, and whether he knew it or not, he fully hardened in the time it took him to gather his wits.
"Minju I came to tell you..." he started, watching his little sister walk towards him and stop but a foot away.
"Shhhh," she said. "you don't have to say anything."
Minju removed her hand from her chest and watched her big brother's eyes widen. She was giving him an uninhibited view of her breasts; she knew that he'd wanted it badly.
"It's okay Oppa," she said. He took it as permission to look at her, up and down. He took in every inch that he could see, from the beautiful tits she was baring for him, to the perfect, little pink nipples that graced them. He saw her abs, strong and smooth, the way her sides curved to her soft-yet-thin hips. He longed to know what she looked like without those adorable bottoms on, but hadn't he come in to say something to her? At the moment it felt like he was just there to look.
"It's okay Oppa," Minju repeated, "you can touch me." She took his hands and brought them just below her chest. He grasped her, making it clear that he didn't expect to let go. Minju guided his hands upward over each tit before letting him do it on his own. His eyes rolled when he finally got his hands on them.
Minju surprised him with a kiss. She'd leaned in while he was distracted and planted it on his lips. Firm and knowing, it lingered for a few, meaningful seconds. Upon breaking, Minju slowly bent at the knees.
She held on to her brother as her knees made contact with the thick bathmat in front of the sink. Carefully, watching him, she pulled the waistband of his sweats over his cock. He did not protest.
She knew he didn't wear underwear beneath them! Minju thought victoriously. 'But ohmygod was he more than I was prepared for,' Minju thought. Perhaps she'd had some idea that he was big, but her brother's cock was much more than she'd seen before. It looked like she could hold it with two hands.
So she did, watching her brother intently the whole time, Minju gently moved her hands toward him. As they slid up his thick quads and lingered an inch or two away, Y/N's cock throbbed in anticipation; he needed her to touch him.
That made Minju smile wide. It was comforting; he wanted her. Seeing his little sister happy to finally take hold of him, Y/N felt like this was what he had truly come upstairs for.
"Minju'" he breathed, unbelieving that her hands were now wrapped around him.
Again she smiled and held him firmly. The contented little teen slid her hands up and then down, watching how the surface of his shaft followed the path of her grip. Y/N thought she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen with the look of pure wonder and excitement on her face.
A couple times she slid her hands intently back and forth. He was so warm; Minju could feel the flowing heat in his penis. Every stroke or so she could feel a throb in his cock, and by look on his face it must have felt good. The fluttering feeling in Minju's tummy returned with intensity each second that their eyes held. Her hopes had been only temporarily dashed. It was hard to believe that she'd come this far, but clear to Minju that she was glad her brother was finally in her hands.
"Am I doing okay," Minju asked him sweetly, lovingly and wide-eyed.
"God Minju', yeah... is this... are you sure..." He was never lost for words, Minju thought.
"It's okay Oppa," she assured him, "I'm just helping you for the game tomorrow. You can relax."
It was a lie, but somehow pretending it was just this once aroused both Minju and her brother. As if they could just pretend tomorrow on the field that Minju, the cheerleader, had not taken new duties to relieve the quarterback the night before.
Minju had begun moving her hands around differently, she was gracing the skin around him with light touches and then testing his tip with firmer ones. Her brother flinched when she ran her palm carefully over his head and closed her fingers over it. It didn't seem enough to her, yet it was Y/N who spoke first.
"Minju, ohgodMinju...will you put it in your mouth?" he asked.
Minju was stunned. And yet, he was used to calling the shots; it was good to know he was playing along. It made her feel sexy to hear her brother finally asking for more.
Minju shook her head 'yes.'
It seemed like the right move. Perhaps he would do better, play better, tomorrow if Minju were to take his cock into her mouth. Perhaps that, or maybe he simply wanted his beautiful little sister to go a bit further. In truth, he wanted to take her up to her feet, set her on the vanity and remove her cute panties to see what she hid underneath. He could line up and ask her if she wanted to...
"Oh fuck Minju," Y/N let out involuntarily. She'd pushed him inward past her lips and was swirling her tongue around his tip amazingly. "your mouth feels so good sis."
Minju would have smiled if her brother wasn't a few inches in. She had to open her mouth wide to fit him, but the mischievous little brunette was determined to make her brother cum. She wanted to be better than his girlfriends, than anyone he'd been with before. She didn't know that she had already surpassed that with her alluring beauty, and that being his little sister was going to bring him to orgasm even faster.
Minju continued sucking on him. She couldn't fit the whole thing in her mouth, perhaps not even half. Yet her sincere attempt had Y/N wanting her more than ever. Hadn't he been so dedicated to holding them back only minutes ago? But here he was loving every second that his little sister was stroking her hands up and down while she bobbed her mouth upon his tip, about to release.
"If you keep doing that...mmmnnhh... I'm gonna cum Minju," he warned her.
"Oh yeah?" she asked innocently after popping her mouth of him with a slurp.
"Are you gonna cum for me Oppa? Is your little sister gonna make you cum?"
He could only groan. Minju leaned close and licked the head just under his tip once again, twice, sending hurtling to the edge.
"Cum on my tits Oppa, it's okay...please, I want you to." She said, pushing him over. He looked down at her in disbelief and deep affection and she held his gaze, not looking away for a second.
The 18-year-old jerked him intently as his breaths got very heavy and then he took a single, sharp inhale. His eyes closed, and his cock throbbed perceptively against her palms. She sat up to direct him right at her youthful breasts, but not before taking the tip of her brother's penis in her mouth right as she felt the first pump on the underside of his shaft.
Minju didn't stop moving her hands as the first shot splashed against her tongue. It was hot, plentiful and he was only just starting to release when she popped his tip out of her mouth and pointed him toward her proud teenage breasts. Each stroke elicited another pulse of his white sperm onto her chest. It was the most amazing thing she'd ever felt; Minju savored every stretch of her skin that he covered.
Y/N was treated with the view of his topless little sister grinning naughtily as he winced and let out the last of what she was squeezing from him. His brain, teetered on the verge of consciousness as he watched the young brunette swallow the first taste of sperm she'd daringly taken into her mouth. Minju felt as if she'd gotten everything she wanted, and the messy tops of her breasts and wet streaks of her brother's cum up to her neck were evidence of that.
God was she beautiful, and she'd been a perfect little sister, just helping out her big brother when she knew he needed it. For a moment, they simply stayed as they were, breathing heavily and taking in the forbidden sight of a little sister splashed with her brother's cum, almost to the point of disbelief. Y/N took one of Minju's hands from his shaft and pulled her up to her pretty feet. Her other hand slid gently off of him, stimulating him one last time before falling to her side.
He wanted to say how much he loved her... that he wanted her to know how good she'd done and that she could ask anything of him, even if it was to never do that again. But that wasn't what either of them wanted, and he couldn't say it all at once so he said it with a kiss. Pulling her face toward his, feeling her silky brown hair between his fingers, he kissed her.
Was this just once? Would they wake up tomorrow and decide that it had been simply a crazy, impulsive thing that had happened and didn't need to happen again? It didn't feel that way when her brother's tongue was asking permission at her lips. She gave it with the touch of her own, and for a moment they kissed like lovers... for a moment.
"I better take a shower," said Minju, pulling away from him and watching the look of surprise on her brother's face. "I've got to clean off all this sticky stuff before mom and dad get home. You sure cum a lot big brother." She finished, running a finger over one gleaming rope and the testing it against her tongue.
Minju's mother had taught her to always make a boy work for her affection. She doubted that her mom had intended her 18-year-old to use it so effectively on her brother whose spunk now covered her breasts, but nonetheless... Y/N was left wanting more.
"Do you think that will help Oppa?" She asked blamelessly with that nickname he'd hated until now. It sounded more like she had just finished a backrub and not sucking her brother's cock. She let him take a good look at her before turning towards the shower.
"Minju, you are unbelievable..." he said, still in shock and still incredibly hard.
She knew she'd done well. Everything he said, everything his eyes and body told her verified it. The proud brunette walked to the still-running water, leaving her brother there to gather his pants. As one last tease, she seductively slid her bottoms over her pushed-out butt as if she'd forgotten Y/N was still in the room.
"I can't get enough of you sis," he said as he realized she intended for him to let her shower alone.
She smiled one last time as she stood back up. Her little pink lips teased him through the darkened gap between her thighs. The room wasn't brightly lit enough and he cursed it, wishing to truly know what Minju's young opening looked like.
"And to think..." Minju led him, "there's so much more."
She bit the side of her pouty, bottom lip before stepping in the shower and pulling back the curtain. Y/N would dream that night of what he might have done if she had invited him in.
It wasn't something I planned. I'd swear that to myself later, again and again. When I look back, it wasn't as if I should have anticipated it all along. It just... happened. Okay, part of it, a large part of it, was my doing but I swear she started it. My head is still all mixed up about exactly how we got here. I guess I'll just start from the beginning.
My little sister Tzuyu was cute, hot even. Sure I've occasionally gotten excited upon seeing her scantily clad about the house, but we were truly normal siblings. Tzuyu and I fought, played, loved and hated each other the way most brothers and sisters do. She had her friends; I had mine. Sometimes we saw each other out on a Friday or Saturday night, but other than to try and hit on her friends, I pretty much stayed out of the way. It wasn't one sided either, as I had to deal with friends hitting on my little sis too.
Admittedly, she was the best looking of her friends, many of which I tried and occasionally succeeded in taking home with me. So, I just sucked it up and accepted that people were going to gawk at her wherever she went, even if she was my little sister and they were my own damned buddies.
Tzuyu was eighteen - pretty young for already having her first semester under her belt in college. She was on the volleyball team, had a steady boyfriend, and seemed to be popular in her circles. She was a pretty confident and independent girl, but I still looked out for her whenever she needed it. She had a fake ID too, and that combined with her 110 lbs. or so and inexperience with alcohol established the watchful eye I kept on her.
Like I said, she was cute. She had warm brown hair that she wore in all kinds of ways; I thought it looked best in a ponytail. Her body was athletic, but she had amazing, shapely breasts that looked like a fun handful to play with. She was almost 5'-7," and toned every inch of it - most volleyball girls were. It wasn't like I'd been fixated on her young body, but the uniforms volleyball players wore, with the tight little shorts and tops... I couldn't help but notice how enticing she'd become. Her adorable smile and deep blue eyes were just the cherry on top; I admired them often growing up.
Sure, being raised under the same roof we'd caught each other changing or coming out of the shower once or twice. Tzuyu had definitely been the first girl whose pussy I'd seen. There was that one time when I'd accidentally walked into her room while she was bottomless and bending over to pull on that damned uniform. I learned quickly that not all of them were so small and hidden between puffy little lips the way hers was...though I wished they were.
I imagine mine were the first male parts Tzuyu had seen. I was admittedly proud to see her reaction and glad she caught me soon after waking up when my morning wood had just begun to fade. Hey, that she was my sister doesn't mean I minded her seeing me at decent size; I thought maybe she'd even tell one of her friends. Then again, who was I kidding, the last thing I was going to do is tell my buddies that Tzuyu's was as perfect and sexy as they all thought she would be when naked.
All of this might make it sound like I had the hots for my sister, but I swear I did everything a brother could to not to make her an object of my fantasies. Living with such a hottie I didn't always succeed, but I did my best. I simply hoped that I got a shot with a girl as attractive;- Tzuyu definitely set the bar high.
And then, in one fateful moment things just... unraveled.
------
It was a pretty standard routine for us. Every couple of weeks when Tzuyu and I got antsy, or it was a holiday like this time, we'd make the long drive home. I did most of the driving and the little princess slept when it suited her. We made good time on this trip home for the semester break but I was still beat when we got back and needed to sleep of the road's monotony.
I was minding my business, taking a nap, when I found myself lying next to my little sister in her bed. I'd simply gone in there to lie down after a long drive home, no other reason. Her bedroom was closer than mine and always colder - far better for a much needed nap. Fuck if I was going to walk twenty more steps to my door. She must have wanted the same thing and came in later after chatting with our parents downstairs.
It wasn't uncommon, but ultimately my laziness had caused a small problem. As usual whenever I wake up, I had a rock hard erection. And with a pretty, slumbering teenager asleep next to me in her bed, my mind was soon racing with thoughts of taboo and risk. I hadn't intended it, I just couldn't prohibit my mind from putting two and two together: my arousal and my hot little sister.
My eyes wandered; I needed to 'examine the situation'. The covers were pulled over her so I couldn't see what she was wearing, but she was cuddled close enough that I could feel her bare legs against mine. She must have taken her jeans off and gotten in bed with me after I'd fallen asleep. Her hair was pushed back and I could see that second piercing on top of her ear I always liked.
'Oh no,' I thought. 'Please tell me she's asleep and has no idea.' It wouldn't have worried me if Tzuyu hadn't snuggled up so close. My erection was dangerously close to my eighteen-year-old sister and I would die if I had to explain myself because she woke up. It was likely a total accident, but I didn't know what to do; any movement could stir her awake and who knew what she might think or say.
My cock betrayed me. I heard her slow breathing, I felt her warm skin, and my hardness swelled with want that hadn't even consulted my conscious brain. It nudged against her butt, poking directly into a tender cheek. I held my breath, hoping...praying that she hadn't woken up. When I thought the coast was clear I lifted my hips and slid backward as slowly as possible, doing my best not to shake the bed or call any more attention to the forbidden contact I was making with Tzuyu's ass.
I settled about half a foot backward on the bed, listening to my little sister breathe and thinking I might have avoided a very awkward situation. Just after I came to rest, I heard a loud creak from her bed. I cursed inwardly, thinking I was done for. At least I wasn't still poking into her with an erection she could easily take the wrong way.
It was then I realized I was mistaken. It was my little sister that had caused the sound as she'd rolled my direction, bringing her hand behind her to the place where I'd touched her. And she didn't take my hard cock the wrong way, she took it in her hand. Without saying a word she wrapped her fingers around it over my thin athletic shorts.
I didn't just roll her over and fuck her or something. No way, this was my little sis and it could be a total accident that she had me in her hand. She might even have been asleep.
She simply stayed still with her fingers wrapped fully around me. It seemed like she was testing me, seeing if I would be the first to pull away. I didn't move an inch, but again my hardness gave me away. It throbbed in Tzuyu's hand, telling her how good it was to feel her holding on to her brother's cock. She maneuvered her palm to my head, extending all of her fingers and then closing them down over my shaft before drawing away and stimulating my tip wonderfully.
At first I'd wanted to believe that she was sleeping. Surely my little sis had just grabbed for something in her slumber and I just happened to be in the right place. But after a moment or so, I could feel her fingers searching and stroking. She was sliding her hand up and down the length of my shaft. People don't just do that; I knew Tzuyu had to be awake and touching me purposefully.
Even through my shorts I couldn't help but growl in approval. I didn't know what had gotten into her, but Tzuyu's hand felt so good I couldn't fathom stopping her. Did she suddenly decide she wanted to fool around with me? Was it a problem with her boyfriend? What could make her act this way with seemingly no warning? All those thoughts crowded my mind, still planted firmly in her hand.
And she didn't stop there either. I laid there anxiously as Tzuyu put her hand on my abdomen, both of us knowing what she intended to do.
Her fingers halted. The pause was long enough to make we wonder if the naughty eighteen-year-old had changed her mind or realized what she was doing. I was nervous and yet craving my sister's touch again.
I had been looking at the back of her head, with hair behind her delicate ear, and I watched as she slowly turned toward me. She looked directly into my eyes. I knew there hadn't been a mistake; she knew exactly what she was doing. I knew it better when she slid her fingers under my waistband and once again brought them to my now bare member. Her eyes were locked into mine the whole time.
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't fathom what I had done to deserve my beautiful little sister's daring hand stroking me as she began to move it up and down. I tried so hard to hold her gaze but once or twice my eyes rolled in response to a strong grasp of my sister's soft palm.
Maybe I should have questioned her. Maybe I should have asked if something was wrong and she was acting out. The doubts crossed my mind for one last second when I watched my little sister do something entirely new.
Still staring into my eyes, she brought her hand out of my pants and quickly pulled my waistband down and over my bulging cock. Then, with a kind of mischievous confidence, she brought her hand to her mouth and licked a path up her palm before sinking two fingers at a time past her wet lips.
I was speechless - as I had been the entire time. I was seeing the hottest girl I knew do the sexiest thing I'd ever witnessed, awestruck as she lowered her hand back to my painfully hard staff.
Her hand slid easily over my shaft before she paid incredible attention to my sensitive tip. My hips thrust involuntarily toward her, and I finally saw Tzuyu crack a grin in pride. She rewarded me with a quickened pace, slipping her hand over my head and all the way down my shaft over and over again. Too soon I felt I was going to cum.
I reached out for her body. I simply had to feel her, to get my hands on her soft breasts or that toned midsection I'd seen too many times before. Now was my chance, the way I was spooning her gave me plenty of access to her perfect little body.
With her hand back the way it was, her chest was poised proudly for my admiration. I started with my hand on her thigh before guiding it up over the gentle curve of her hip. I was careful not to go under her shirt as I neared her ribcage, not wanting to push my luck. It was a thin cotton top, with a small spaghetti strap I could see just above the covers on her smooth, tanned shoulder.
Tzuyu purred quietly when I grasped her tit in my hand. They'd always looked so soft and squeezable and now I had proof as I cupped it carefully. Where before I hadn't even allowed the thought of feeling up my little sister beyond a quiet daydream, now that I had her, I couldn't get enough. I wanted to run my hands over every inch of her, and soon I worked my fingers under the hem of her shirt.
She didn't protest as I daringly climbed higher, feeling the bottom of her ribcage again, this time without the shirt atop it. She inhaled deeply when my fingers finally reached her breast, and I took her nipple quickly in between my thumb and forefinger. Pinching it, I heard my little sister moan. Grasping her, I felt her hips writhe beneath the covers. I pushed her shirt up swiftly and threw the covers off of us in one motion, I wanted to see her.
All this while, we hadn't said a word, and she kept stroking me below. Her head was still turned in my direction and her eyes held mine,, though occasionally we broke when pleasure got the better of us. With the blankets thrown off, I gazed down at my sister's beautiful frame. Her shirt was bunched above her breasts where I'd shoved it, and our hips had drawn closer. Now and again I could feel my tip brush against her bottoms, sending a shiver up my spine.
I continued massaging her breasts and midsection, and the look in her eyes told me she loved it. Tzuyu licked her hand a second time to wet it and once again placed it on my cock. Watching her hand descend my eyes stopped on her underwear - a wide pink band of lace wrapped around her cute hips and butt with a strip of white between her legs connecting and covering what I knew would be a tight little pussy.
The thought inspired me, I wanted to know what it would feel like if I got my fingers to Tzuyu's mound. Was she enjoying this as much as me? Would she be warm and wet like I imagined? I motioned toward my sister's panty line with the hand that had been playing with her tits, hearing her sigh regrettably that I'd left them alone.
As soon as my fingers brushed the band of pink lace around her hips, Tzuyu reached for the bottoms and pushed them down around her pert butt. As she shimmied to remove them, my head contacted dangerously close to her most forbidden place which I had yet to touch. Her willingness to take off her panties both excited and confused me, almost as much as the gentle prod to the gap between her thighs.
I was eager, I couldn't help it. I grasped her hips and thrust forward. I don't know what I was thinking. The haste at which we'd stepped into this exciting and yet frightening bout of incest had me doing before considering any kind of consequences.
Tzuyu flinched when she felt my cock between her legs. I was spooning her perfectly so if I played my cards right I could soon be fucking my little sister. Minutes ago the thought would have made me chastise myself back to reality, but now that I had the chance I wanted nothing more than to take it. I shoved my hips against Tzuyu's backside. She reached back quickly and held me off.
"Nuhh uhhh," she huffed, freezing me in place.
I wanted to so badly, my little sister was right there for the taking. Seeing her body laid out on the bed, her full tits holding in place and her abs flexing as she ground her hips against me - I wanted to simply pin her against the bed and push into her quim where my member lingered so frighteningly close.
But it was those hips and her beautifully soft butt gyrating against me that caused me to reconsider. She was trying hard to make it pleasurable for me despite being unwilling to go further.; Tzuyu was a good girl and would not tease her brother without reward, apparently.
I was close now, and though disappointed I would not be able to take Tzuyu's inner temperature with my own pulsing hot shaft, when I felt her hips rolling impressively around my cock, my regret subsided. I leaned toward my hot little teen sibling, and she back toward me.
At first I let Tzuyu continue to rotate her hips around so my cock slid beneath her lips without my moving a muscle. I had my answer to my baby sister's arousal, she was so wet I could hear the slick sound of our act below. Eventually I began to return her efforts with thrusts of my own. I was holding on to her hip and forcing my pulsing staff between her legs.
It was obvious I was doing right by Tzuyu as well, because within a moment or two her breaths were labored and quiet moans escaped her mouth between them. Each time I pushed against her, I sensed my cock rubbing her clit. She was completely bare and smooth. Her skin was soft and silky the way an eighteen-year-old's should be.
I reached my hand down between her legs from the front, wanting to bring her to an orgasm as I was so desperately near mine. I quickly found her clit, pressuring it while continuing to thrust between her legs. I think it was too much for her, like the building sensation and taboo were more than she was prepared to handle because her hand shot to mine after only a few pushes against her button.
She stopped my hand, but she was unable to stop my hips. I couldn't help grunting with each thrust between my teenage sister's gap, and Tzuyu was beyond trying to conceal her enjoyment so she was moaning and gasping louder now. I worried our parents would hear; they were probably in the kitchen getting dinner ready and not far enough to be so careless. But none of that was enough to stop chasing our climaxes.
I hadn't had a chance to think about what we were doing. One thing had simply led to another and I knew that I was willingly along for the ride. Tzuyu had started it, surely, but I wanted her badly and with my hands holding her tight I wasn't going to let go until we had both finished. I loved Tzuyu so much, and what we were doing was crazy and impulsive and wrong, but I didn't care. As I slid my cock between her thighs the only thought I had was if I would get the chance to fuck my incredibly hot little sister. Tzuyu had unlocked me, for now, into unleashed desire for her and realization that she was every bit as beautiful and seductive as my buddies said. I'd always known but I'd buried it deep, until now when she was naked in bed with me and unthinkably approving of the way my cock was gliding between her legs.
Her hand started to encourage mine in circles over her clit again, and once or twice my head took a slightly different angle, just barely prying her lips apart and threatening entry. I think it got Tzuyu even hotter because of it.
Then, suddenly she was shaking. Her hand was clenched around mine and forcing it roughly against her mound. I watched as my little sister turned to muffle herself against the bed.
"Oh fuck fuck fuck... " she said into the pillow. It was too much for me.
I felt the familiar feeling of semen rising from deep inside of me. Withdrawing so my head was just within the diamond shaped opening between her thighs I spurted out what would be an incredible amount of cum onto my little sister. Still I urged my cock between, not wanting to let the wonderful feeling of her legs hugging me go away.
She was a mess, quivering and panting while I coated her with my forbidden sperm all over the place a brother was never supposed to see, let alone touch. When it was all done, and I could feel she had ridden out her orgasm, I began to take in my surroundings.
What we just did, whatever it was, had to have been as erotic a scene as I would ever experience. Tzuyu, my little sister, lay there with her shirt bunched up and panties around one ankle. She looked beautiful with a light sheen of sweat and that incredible chest of hers still rising and falling with each panting breath. And Tzuyu's tiny opening was utterly smeared with the result of our "nap."
After all, that was how it had all begun. An innocent nap on my sister's bed had ended with me pumping generously all over her young mound. God it was so wrong and simultaneously so unfathomably hot:: her little pink pussy coated in my cum and the way she was purring because of it. I desperately needed to know what she was thought of it all.
She finally turned toward me, surveying my emotions, and with raise of an eyebrow and a sideways little glance, I knew she was with me. What had happened, whatever it was, was okay with both of us. In fact I was still hard and I had not even gotten the chance to make love to my baby sister. Where it hadn't been before, now all I could think about was fucking Tzuyu, making her athletic little body squirm ... and soon.
It didn't seem she was going to allow it. She rolled off the bed and stood up from it gracefully.
"Wh...where are you going...?"
She looked at me curiously from above.
"Well..." she said, reaching for her shirt and pulling it up over her head right in front of me. "I have my brother's cum all over my pussy, and I'm not on any birth control right now soooo... I should probably take a shower and wash it off."
I was stunned... I had been the entire time. Looking at my naked little sister and admiring the body I'd just had my hands all over, I still couldn't believe what we'd just done. She looked down at the mess we had made and I did too. She was right, there was gleaming white spunk all over her and her inner thighs were shining with her own fluids as well.
As she turned to walk toward the bathroom I called after her,
"Waitt... Tzuyu... I..." but I couldn't say any more. My brain was spinning in circles and whatever I'd thought to tell her was gone.
"Oh shush," she said casually, "We were just having a bit of fun. Thanks for making me cum by the way Oppa!"
With that, she smiled and closed the door to the bathroom behind her. I wondered if she meant for me to follow her in, but I heard the door lock instead.
All I could think was... 'what...the...fuck...just happened?'
My mind may have been racing, but as I heard the shower running I kept envisioning one thing definitively: Tzuyu's naked little body pelted with warm streams of water. I imagined her nipples were hard and she was slowly washing away our sticky remnants from between her legs. I laid there for a few more moments before slowly pulling myself up, putting my shorts back on and going to my own room to shower as well.
It was all I thought about. In the shower...later at the dinner table with our parents... as we sat and watched TV... Tzuyu didn't show anything that might give us away. Before she had come into the room there had been no indication we would be fooling around any time soon, and as I looked at her, totally casual in a tight tank top showing her stomach and grey sweatpants beneath, I believed for a moment nothing had changed.
'Fuck,' I thought, creating a scene in my head where I tore her clothes off and ravished her on the couch with no regard for our parents sitting there. I was just to the part where I had pulled her pants and underwear down at once and was about to finally line up and...
"I'm gonna go to bed," Tzuyu announced to us. My mom and dad said goodnight, and I mumbled the same. As my sister walked by I watched closely. She smiled at me and raised her eyebrows. That look... it was as if everything Tzuyu did turned me on. Did she want me to follow her? Maybe I would get to have another go with her after all.
Watching her saunter off, I decided I would wait an appropriate amount of time before heading upstairs after her. I was a man possessed. My hot sister had given me a little and I wanted it all. And I'm not selfish, she looked so cute as she was cumming in my arms earlier that I absolutely wanted to see it again. I would kiss her and lick her, worship her, for hours if that's what it took, especially if it meant I could sink into her afterwards and fuck her tiny pussy until she screamed.
I reached her door, mouth watering, and seeing it open I walked near to look inside. She was in the bathroom, and when she came out she was wearing a t-shirt that just barely covered her bottom and concealed her tantalizing parts beneath. She saw me in the doorway, frozen once again, and walked toward me purposefully.
I was leaning in to the room when she reached the door, and she outstretched a hand to my chest. Cocking her hips to the side she addressed me,
"So... you're here for more or something?" she said with attitude.
"I...I..." I stammered. I was usually never at a loss for words, but Tzuyu had me.
"Look, I'm not sorry about what happened today..." she paused, "but it doesn't mean you can just come up here and expect to get in bed with me."
I didn't have an answer for her. That was exactly what I had come upstairs for.
"Mom and Dad are right downstairs, they'll be up to say goodnight soon... or didn't you think about that?"
Nope, I hadn't considered that either. Tzuyu read the answer on my face and giggled, which made me feel only slightly better. She smiled at me; I couldn't help but look disappointed which obviously entertained her. I was hard, rock solid, and I desperately wanted to get in bed and play with her.
She used the hand that she'd placed on my chest and pushed me out of the way of the door. Slowly shutting it she looked down before it finally closed, seeing the tent in my pants and then back up at me.
"It's pretty big... by the way... That's why I wanted to feel it. Goodnight OPPA." She spoke with a smirk, and shut the door.
Again - 'what... the... fuck...is going on here,' I said to myself. I felt cheated, and horny, and desiring my little sister more than ever now that she'd denied me. I limped back to my room with a hurt pride and a throbbing problem. All I wanted was to feel Tzuyu's tiny hand wrapped around my shaft again and she'd unfalteringly told me no. I hated being so helpless.
I must have gotten myself off three times that night thinking of her. I knew it was wrong, but I was past the point of caring. I was merely worried that I'd never get my hands on her perfect breasts or feel that pert little ass of Tzuyu's rubbing up against me again. I schemed ways I would be able to get her alone in the next few days.
And then... nothing.
None of my schemes were possible the next day, I only saw Tzuyu for a moment or two and she locked her door that night. It was Tuesday night that we'd woken up together and by Saturday I still hadn't gotten more than a moment or two alone with her. I prayed that she was just biding her time, and when we were together she was normal as can be - which meant cute, bubbly and talkative as she always was with me. I don't know how I hadn't been drawn to her like this before...
I'd never felt doubt and uncertainty like I did in those few days. Did Tzuyu know the effect she was having on me? She would avert her eyes if they met mine for too long, but then she'd brush by me and touch my arm as we did dishes in the kitchen after dinner. She smiled affectionately and laid down next to me on the couch with her long legs across my lap on Friday and Saturday morning, but with my parents there I didn't dare touch.
She must have known. I concluded that Tzuyu was playing hard-to-get perfectly, but even believing that didn't cause me to want her less. By the time our family had come over on Saturday afternoon for our little cousin Ren's birthday party and a sort-of family reunion, I was so confused I had trouble focusing on anything.
'Oh... My... God..." I thought as I watched Tzuyu step out onto the deck to help prepare for the gathering. She looked so amazing in her bathing suit that I practically fell in the pool instead of skimming it.
It was dark blue... wonderfully simple, and yet fit so well it looked like it was made for her. On each hip there was a gold hoop connecting the bottoms, and one atop both triangles over her tits. The bikini top held her breasts snugly in place, with enough skin showing to remind me just how ample they'd been in my hands. When she ambled down the steps both wonderful globes jiggled in place. And finally, her beautiful face glowed tan, with a hint of makeup and framed by brown hair which was full, tussled and wavy.
Part of it was my recent decision to let my eyes wander and mind free to dream up all of the things I wanted to do to her. But mostly, I think Tzuyu had finally become the absolute beauty I always knew she'd be growing up. At eighteen, I don't think she could have gotten any hotter than she was walking around in that snug two-piece, and if not I was in trouble. I tried so hard not to stare, but I knew she saw me. As my little sister approached me she blushed, and I quickly looked down like I hadn't been undressing her with my eyes.
"Do you need help?" She asked sweetly. Girls that looked the way Tzuyu did weren't supposed to be so kind or loving. It would have made things easier for me at least.
I flicked my eyes up at her and tried not to stare anywhere, like her bare, flat stomach and the tiny jewel she'd begged my mom for when she was fourteen. "Y...yeah... I still gotta vacuum the bottom, think you could grab it from the shed?"
"Sure!" She agreed with a pretty smile before turning around and walking away.
How could she be so cruel to me, I thought. It wasn't fair that she could look so gorgeous and parade around the house like she was, dangling herself in front of me.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as the petite brown-haired beauty sauntered over to the shed in our backyard. Her bottoms weren't a thong or anything, but they left enough bare cheek for a flashback to thrusting against Tzuyu's backside in her bed.
"NO No no no no..." I heard my little sister say frantically from across the yard. "There is no way I'm reaching under there to get that!" She called to me.
I laughed. I should have known a few cobwebs would make Tzuyu squeal; she could be such a baby. I quickly set down my skimmer and walked back to the shed.
"Please Oppa,?" She yelled, still standing in the doorway and looking in. When she turned around I was already there.
"Ohh," she gasped, giggling a bit and looking up at me. She hadn't expected me right behind her. "Do you think you could...um..." Tzuyu was a little flustered, and I thought I saw her eyes wander over my bare chest. "Can you get it for me?"
She didn't step back, and neither did I. For the first time since Tuesday, I kind of felt like I was in control of the situation. I could have reached out and touched her, maybe taking hold of her hips. I think both of us expected something. Nobody was around, nobody would see, perhaps just a touch... I could hear Tzuyu inhaling deeply through her nose; her body language begged me to act.
What little distance there was between us, Tzuyu attempted to close it. With her back arched to show off her wonderful boobs to me, and her mound covered in only the fabric of her suit, I could have lifted up her tiny body and pinned her against the shed.
I wanted to. Actually, I wanted to lay her in the grass right there and fuck her senseless. I wanted to rip off what little bit of clothing she was wearing. Seeing the faint outline of her nipple through its fabric I wanted to tear the top from her and free her perfect breasts.
But I didn't. Knowing I might curse myself for it later, I reached out,...hearing Tzuyu inhale sharply... I touched her on the shoulder, and with enough force to surprise her I pushed her aside.
I didn't bother to look at her; the little gasp she emitted said it all. I had shunned my little sister who, despite her best efforts, had expected me to bend to her every will. It was no match for that time in her bed, but it felt good.
During the party I would replay the event in my head between visions of what had been, and what could have been. Sometimes I caught Tzuyu looking my way when she thought I didn't know. Giving my cousin Jin too much attention seemed to buy me her watchful eye.
Tzuyu gained the upper hand again when we were playing a game with the younger cousins. I'd ended up wrestling her in the deep end and couldn't avoid my hands finding their way to her butt. Whether her thigh ended up between mine and rubbed against my crotch intentionally or not, it was my little sister who pushed away first. That quick interaction left me unable to get out of the pool for over ten minutes.
As I soaked in the water, waiting for my arousal to subside before getting out, Tzuyu stood nearby drying off. Something seemed different, I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but her eyes seemed suggest she was scheming. Her hands were over her head, drying off that mane of hair, and her body was on display for my hungry eyes.
It was strange having this secret between us. My other cousins probably noticed how phenomenal my sister looked in that blue number, or how alluring it was to watch her use both hands to adjust each breast in the top. But the exchanged glances, and the unknown feelings and urges we were having toward each other were uniquely our own.
Everyone was getting their food out on the patio and sitting down about the yard when I finally got out of the pool. Tzuyu had left my sight just long enough for my blood pressure to drop back to a normal level.
I walked inside and immediately the cool air in the house made goosebumps appear on my skin. I knew Tzuyu was inside too; I guess I just wanted to be nearer to her. She smiled at me as I walked in and grabbed a glass from the cabinet nearby, filling it with iced tea. I stood against the countertop and looked at her, leant over the sink and washing a few dishes. The silence... the tension... it was palpable.
Tzuyu looked in my direction with a mischievous smile. She knew I would be watching her, and this time she didn't seem inclined to pretend I wasn't - everybody else was outside and she could see them safely through the window.
Our gaze met for the umpteenth time that day. It wasn't as if we were too scared to talk, our eyes simply said more. Tzuyu looked toward her backside, she was obviously bending an extra bit to show it off. My eyes followed hers and I watched as she shook her butt deliberately. It jiggled ever so little, and fuck was it sexy to watch.
"Tzuyu..." I breathed. I didn't even know I'd said it until she smiled wide upon seeing my reaction. She bit her lower lip, I must have made her feel truly sexy.
"Come here," she called to me.
I moved toward her, entranced. My feet carried me so I was right behind her. When I was close enough she reached behind for my hand and pulled me in tight, placing my palm on her tummy. I felt like a child as she showed me what to do. The unknown territory and the absolute puzzle of teasing and withholding she'd drawn me into had my intentions drawn up in knots.
"You want me, huh?" she asked quietly, leaning back as I wrapped around her a bit tighter. I found my voice.
"Is it that obvious?" I asked. She giggled adorably, and my cock throbbed between us. She wasn't moving her hips, but I could feel her cute ass pressing against me with only a few layers of fabric between us.
Now full and hard, my erection had made its way up to my waistband. My little sister could feel it there, I knew it because she eventually began to wiggle her hips up and down on me, standing on tiptoe to do so.
"God you're big," she whispered to me, both my ego and my cock inflated in response. I reached in front of her and brought my fingers to her mound. I knew we had to be extra careful with so many family members near but I had to feel her, to make her squirm.
"Tzuyu?"
"...unhhh... what Oppa?" She huffed as I pressed my fingers against her clit.
"I can't help it..." I started, feeling her squeeze me between the cleft in her cheeks as I spoke, "you're just so fucking gorgeous...I want..." I paused, afraid how she'd take what I wanted to say.
Tzuyu pushed me back with her backside, turning in my arms.
"I know what you want Oppa..." she said sweetly, looking right at me as she did before kissing my chest.
"I know you've been thinking about it, because I have too..." she kissed my neck... "I know how bad you want it..." Finally, she kissed my lips. We hadn't yet done that, and the feeling of her, warm and soft... I wished it would never end.
"We just... can't..." she said, with true remorse in her voice. I looked at her, and we stood there in silence. The yelling of our cousins and the boisterous laughter of our aunts and uncles came through the sliding door. Looking deeply at me, she spoke again.
"It's too risky... look at how we're acting right now!"
Sure, she had a point, but hadn't she initiated this very embrace? It seemed to me that despite her games, she wanted it as badly as I did. Instead of arguing with her, I did what my body told me to and pushed my hips against her, hoisting her slightly against the edge of the counter. I was hard, very hard, and I know she felt it against her because she inhaled sharply.
"You have to stop..." she demanded.
But I didn't want to stop, I liked having my little sister's waist in my hands and the undeniable feelings we were both having, despite her protest. I knew that this might be my last chance to be with Tzuyu now that she'd stated her case.
A few days before we had just been loving brother and sister. Indeed, lust had gotten the better of me. Tzuyu, in her infinite beauty, had me pining to touch her more, feel her, take her... But the pure ferocity of my desires was fueled by that long-standing love and affection we'd shared; I knew that much. Now, with my beautiful little sibling ripe for the taking, I badly wanted to make love to her and discover her more deeply as a sister and a lover. Pinned against the counter and with all the signs of her physically allowing my actions, I grew bolder.
I slid my hands down a few inches and took her bottoms with them. Tzuyu let me, and looked over her shoulder through the window to ensure nobody was going to catch us in the act. I don't know why she let me do it, maybe she didn't know what I intended to do.
I looked down below us, at the bare skin above Tzuyu's slit. Even from this angle I could see she was very wet. I reached down with my palm upward. My sister caught my wrist, but not before my finger could land perfectly over her clit and positioned just right for me to urge into her.
I did just that, after teasing around her opening for a few seconds. Her grip tightened on my arm as I slipped my middle finger into her. My god was she tight. Only one finger inside and I knew that my little sis was as snug as they come.
"Fuuuucck..." she hissed as I wiggled it inside of her. Though Tzuyu was resistant to having sex with me she certainly wasn't making any moves to stop me fingering her.
My little sister reached back and braced herself with a hand on the countertop. As she nervously glanced through the window to the party outside, we both felt the exhilaration of our forbidden actions with imminent discovery only a frighteningly close distance away.
I began plunging my finger inside of Tzuyu faster and pressuring her mound as much as possible with the palm of my hand. Watching her writhe, her gorgeous body half on and half off of the countertop, I found myself urging my hips against her as well. I was hard for her, so incredibly filled with lust that it couldn't be helped.
"Oppa... seriously... uhhhh... Oppa!"
I knew if I kept going, I would make my beautiful little sister cum. It was obvious that my hand was caressing her insides just right, but the tone of Tzuyu's voice was probably spurred by something else. Whether she meant to or not, my little sister's hand had found its way over my shorts and to the long path of my hard cock beneath. I simply reached down and tugged at the waistband to free the velcro and drawstring that had kept my erection within.
Now that my shorts were open, Tzuyu's hand was on bare skin, and I don't think she expected it. Either that, or the fact that seconds later my tip was precariously close to her dripping wet lips, but my little sister was not happy. I knew it was a risky situation, and that we could be found committing incest by any one of our nearby relatives with little notice. I could hear my dad laughing and my uncle finishing another one of his stupid jokes through the open door, but I didn't care. Yet, my middle finger was still immersed in my sister's tight, teenage pussy and I wanted nothing more than to replace it with my cock.
"Don't... don't... ohhhhh... dooooon't...please Oppa...fuckk..." I really shoved my finger up into her then; Tzuyu was going to cum. I massaged her, with a finger inside and a hand under the triangle of cloth over her breast.
I wanted to, but I simply couldn't fuck my little sister without her permission. It felt good enough that Tzuyu had my shaft pinned against her thigh and was stroking me to the best of her ability as orgasm approached and overtook her. Her other hand was haphazardly scanning my body, grabbing at the arm which was reaching down below, or at my chest and shoulder so she could simply feel me.
Her breasts felt incredible, her body felt incredible, and when our lips touched as Tzuyu was trembling through the remainder of her orgasm, that felt incredible too. We'd hardly more than peck each other's lips yet, and my little sister might not have allowed the darting of our tongues if she hadn't been shivering through a wonderful climax. We were lucky that nobody had decided to step inside at that moment, because neither of us intended to part, at least until the beautiful brunette in front of me had given me leave.
Slowly, I withdrew my finger from Tzuyu's tunnel. Her walls objected with gentle suction until my fingertip brushed finally over the hood of her clitoris, causing Tzuyu to shudder in such a way that my cock bobbed against my little sis with arousal.
Our foreheads were pressed together, and my little sister had her delicate hand still wrapped convincingly around my shaft. I wondered what she was thinking, for her body language spoke a message utterly apart from the words she had spoken. She whispered to me, as if someone might overhear.
"God you're such a jerk," we both laughed, Tzuyu between shortened breaths, "why did you do that to me?"
"Because I know you wanted me to..." I told her. She was still sliding her hand up and down my shaft, the feeling of her thigh and fingers driving me wild. "Come on Tzuyu, why did you let me?"
She rolled her eyes, annoyed, but with a smile so I knew my question wasn't entirely unfounded. And still she was holding on to my hard staff. She must have meant to, because below us my little sister was playing with my tip and it was lingering but an inch from her opening. Between her thighs and in her hand she held me, her bikini bottoms hastily pushed down to the floor and my trunks open just enough for her access.
At first I was watching her hand and agonizingly wondering what she planned to do. When I looked up I could see that she, instead, had been watching me. I think it excited her, my uncertainty and simultaneous desire for her. I could have come then if I didn't think I might be inside of the gorgeous little teenager in a moment or two.
"This is as far as I'm gonna let us go, Oppa, I'm serious." She said when our eyes locked.
Damnit, I thought, she wasn't going to give in. The little tease. I'd just made her moan and shiver herself into a huge climax on our kitchen counter and she was still withholding. The depressing thought that I'd never make love to her was a real possibility that entered my mind.
I tested her anyway, urging my hips forward so my cock was sent between her legs. Tzuyu shook her head no. And though I could feel her jump when my tip was sent skirting her clit and the lips I so desperately desired to open to me, she prevented it with a push of her hand.
"It's not gonna happen Oppa..."
It didn't seem fair. I hadn't started all of this. It was Tzuyu who had caused the evolution of my thoughts and the final acceptance of how undeniably gorgeous and seductive my little sister was. It was Tzuyu who had flaunted her body and delivered those mischievous glances and touches in the last few days. Sure, I had jumped at every opportunity, but I wanted to consummate what she'd been hinting at all along.
I grabbed her hips tight, feeling her hipbones beneath. I felt her grip on my cock loosen as she sensed what I was doing. If she let go I could just shove forward and bury myself into her, ending this stupid game and breaking through the wall that stood between us.
"Don't you dare," Tzuyu said.
I pushed, she wasn't strong enough to stop me. My cockhead mashed against her clit, and Tzuyu's head swiveled in response. I thought I could feel her lips parting as my tip found them. My little sister had her hand on my cock so she was unfortunately still in control. Though I tried to angle correctly, she swiftly guided me so when my hips met hers I was snug between her thighs again. I'd felt that already; I wanted more.
I think my little sister knew by the time she looked into my eyes that I didn't intend to give up. She glared at me, then down to where she was holding me tediously close to sinking inside of her... then through the window again. It suggested to me that she wasn't entirely committed to stopping me; my heart was pounding in my chest at the possibility.
I was holding my breath and feeling incredibly nervous. I wondered if Tzuyu could tell. I was about to fuck my little sister on the kitchen counter; would she blame me for being so brazen? It seemed as if I had wanted her forever. Now was my chance. I took hold of her wrist; inches from my grasp she had her fingers wrapped around my hard cock. And inches from that was my tip, the head of her own brother's cock, prodding at her tiny opening and begging her to allow me to lock us together in incest.
I tugged at her wrist strongly. She could have stopped me. She could have put up a fight, but I knew her heart wasn't in it when I felt her willingly let go of my rod and allow me to guide her hand to the counter on which she sat and hold her there. She was going to let me fuck her.
One hand on her left wrist and the other on her right, she still feigned to resist me. I watched her bite her lip, felt her stand on her toes. She wiggled in front of me, halfheartedly trying to free her hands.
I think I could have angled just right to follow through with it, she was just so damn wet. My head urged at her outer lips, and quickly slid enticingly up her slit, missing her entrance. Tzuyu opened her mouth a little bit; I could feel her tremble.
I wish I had done it: finally pushed my cock into my little sister's pussy... filled her up with every inch of me. I wish I had because that's when my mom called from the patio...
"Kids!" we heard through that open door.
'God damnit!' I thought. We both stood in silence. My cock was shoved between us against Tzuyu as we listened for our mother's next words.
"What are you doing in there, can't you come out?"
Tzuyu and I looked at each other, my intentions were unchanged but she looked as if she'd changed her mind. I was still going to go for it, and withdrew from her in order to try again. If I just hurried I could take her... I pointed my cock back toward her entrance. 'Please just let this temptation end,' I thought.
This time she actually did stop me, slipping her hands from beneath mine on the counter and shoving me away.
I was dumbfounded. My mouth hung open in disbelief.
She quickly reached for her bottoms and pulled them up, lucky that they were still wet from the pool. The sheen of her arousal was apparent to me on her mound as I watched until she lifted the blue bottoms to cover it. I thought she might just walk out without saying anything, but she then walked up close to me.
She reached down; I had no words. She grabbed my cock and shoved it into my trunks. It didn't fit well, still sticking up and out of my waistband.
"I told you we couldn't do this. See what I mean?" She had this smug grin on her face that I thought still looked sexy.
"You might want to wait to come out until you're not so..." she began, lacing up my shorts deliberately "...large." An inch or two of me was still showing above the bow she tied, she tenderly slid her fingers around me and pushed my cock to the side.
I was still speechless. I watched her spin hastily towards the door, seeing her breasts and butt jiggle beautifully. I knew she was smirking, though I couldn't see it as she walked away without another word.
'Again!' I screamed inwardly. I hated Tzuyu for depriving me after she'd so clearly teased me into a sexually starved frenzy. There were other girls I could have, some even that were only a quick text message away. But I wanted this one. I wanted my little sister. I wanted to strip her, manhandle her and then, finally, fuck her like she'd been begging and teasing for.
It took me a few minutes before I could even walk outside, mostly because I was fuming and partly because my cock refused to forget the sight and feeling of my hot little sister bottomless on the kitchen counter.
Tzuyu didn't even avoid my gaze when we were both seated outside. When my eyes pointed in her direction, whether to glare angrily or stare at her perfect breasts in that bikini top, she looked back unapologetically. I saw her bite her lip once when she felt me look down at her chest. I had to focus on eating just to withhold my animal instinct to pounce across the table and lay Tzuyu out in front of the entire family... even that thought made my trunks stir.
The rest of the night went pretty much the same way. God was I mad at her. I couldn't understand why she would initiate everything and then just go cold on me at her convenience. She had to know what she'd started and that I'd want more now that she'd granted me a sample of the fantasies of her that had often as I slept.
Tzuyu may have sensed it, but she didn't steer clear of me. I allowed the sympathetic thought that she might have been as fixated on thoughts of me as I was her and that was drawing her close. I lightened up by the time it was getting dark. When she came to sit close to me around the bonfire later that night I could feel my frustration begin to eek away, replaced instead by her presence as she wrapped around my arm.
She was making little effort, in my opinion, to hide that there was something going on between us. I kept looking around nervously to determine whether someone around the bonfire could tell. I guess they didn't know that my little sister and I had gotten each other off in her bed a few days ago, or in the kitchen as they ate, so they didn't see her affection as out of the ordinary.
I knew I wasn't going to get a chance to do anything more than squeeze my fingers against Tzuyu's side as we sat together that night. I was so distracted. Feeling her next to me, the warmth of her body and that subtle vanilla smell I think came from her conditioner, most of the night was a blur. I did have a good time; hanging out with my extended family and putting back a few beers always proved fun. I could tell Tzuyu was getting a bit drunk off her intake because she leaned more and more into me as the fire burned down. I would never tire of the feeling of her breast squished against me; she was probably doing it intentionally.
Tzuyu and I were both going to have roommates that night as we had little cousins littered about the house while their parents, my aunts and uncles that had a few too many drinks that night, slept it off until the morning. Something about the way Tzuyu had looked at me when she knew what I planned to do on the kitchen counter had me drifting off to sleep that night with a glimmer of hope.
But before I got in bed, with our cousins chattering in each of our rooms and my little sister and I preparing for bed, I found myself alone in the hallway. Tzuyu stopped me on her way to the bathroom. I was walking sleepily toward my door and before I reached it I felt a hand on my chest. Next thing I knew my little sister had pushed me into the darkened laundry room and was pinning me against the door.
Her lithe little body was pressed against mine and I felt no inclination to move as I took her in. She was wearing a pretty simple flannel PJ set with low riding pants cinched around her tiny waist. She must have 'accidentally ' forgotten to button up the top because it was hanging open and she'd changed into a light purple bra that snugly held her tits in place.
She was silent at first. The only sounds I could hear were the giggling of my nearby cousins and my little sister's quiet breathing. For a few moments she seemed content just to let me look at her, and her at me. Then she looked as if she was going to say something, but decided against it. Instead she stood slowly on her tiptoes to level her eyes with mine.
Her eyes were fixed on mine and her lips so close. My hands moved on their own to my baby sister's sides. They slipped easily past her open nightshirt and found her bare skin. She was so fit I could feel her core muscles flexing as she stretched to stand as tall as me. As soon as she felt me holding her she gained some confidence and kissed me.
At first I just let her. I wanted her so badly, but playing directly into her game hadn't worked out so well for me yet. She fidgeted, seemingly hoping I would move my hands around on her stomach. When I did, I guess I just melted. I couldn't touch her like and feel her lips hungry for me to kiss her back without doing so. It felt dangerous, so close to our own cousins and kissing like we hadn't a care in the world.
I eventually gave into her entirely, and before long I was fully hard and pushing out my hips into Tzuyu. She was grinding against me, and every so often I could feel my cock wedging between her thighs. We were making out unabashedly, my hands were roughly handling her and palming her breasts over the bra. I'm not sure I've ever been so passionate with a girl besides her before or since.
I wondered if it was because Tzuyu had been drinking. After all, she was only a tiny eighteen-year-old and I'd seen her toss quite a few back. Or maybe it was because we'd been so close to the real thing before. She had protested convincingly, but once again I was utterly confused by her behavior. I suppose this unknown territory we were traversing had both my little sister and I acting unpredictably at every step.
I remember I was moving my hands down beneath the waistband of her PJs when we heard the bathroom door close.
"Holy shit!" my little sis whispered. She leaned into me as close as possible and peeked out the door.
Had someone seen us? Had someone walked by when we were caught up making out in the room right next door. I looked around us, we were obscured in darkness in the tiny room and only the light from beneath the bathroom door was casting a pale light into the hallway. I hoped we were safe, but couldn't know for sure.
Seconds later someone was brushing their teeth in the bathroom and Tzuyu and I breathed a little easier. If we had been seen, whichever one of our cousins that had walked by probably wouldn't have just moved on and gone about their routine. Regardless, Tzuyu still spoke very softly.
"Are you still mad at me?" she asked sweetly. Her big blue eyes looked up at me nervously.
I wanted to say yes. I was pissed, at some point in the evening, that she was denying me what I thought we both wanted. I guess I had kind of forgotten for a while that I was her big brother, that I should have been able to keep my composure and not anger so easily at her withholding.
It was for that reason that I told her "No, I'm sorry I was so pissed for a while there."
"I could tell," she responded, "you were being kind of a dick."
I didn't really like hearing that, and she must have noticed because as soon as she saw my glare she continued. "You were going to fuck me, right on the kitchen counter. I said no and you were still going to do it!" Again, I was not pleased. She was right, but I could feel her riling me up. "I bet you'd fuck me right now if I let you!" She was whispering as quietly as possible while still gazing at me wide-eyed and with plenty of attitude.
It was all incredibly confusing. Here I was with a hard-on for my little sis, which was still pinned between us and my hands still in her flannel PJs on her pert little ass, but I was getting scolding for wanting to bang my younger sister. Not to mention she kept saying "fuck me" and her language was arousing me like none other.
"Tzuyu, come on!" I complained. I had to catch myself so I wasn't too loud. "I won't blame you for what I want to do with you, but please don't pretend you're innocent."
I could tell that she was actually listening to me, for a change.
"One day we're fooling around in bed and the next morning it's like you've completely forgotten." She scoffed as I said it. I continued anyway, "and you looked fucking gorgeous in your swimsuit... you look fucking gorgeous right now, You keep teasing me too; what do you want me to do? "I could tell she liked hearing me praise her, but she was way too stubborn to give in so easily.
"Look," she answered, "I'm not saying I don't want it as badly as you do, because I do. I've had dreams about you since I was fifteen, and then you were in my bed, and then I felt you poking my butt with your big cock and I got horny and then I just kind of acted without thinking."
She was racing through the explanation, probably because we heard our cousin stop brushing their teeth in the room next door. "But you can't just fuck me. First of all, you're really big and I can't just take you on the kitchen counter. Which you were GOING TO DO."
"Second, look at us. We could get in so much trouble. What if whoever is in the bathroom had seen us?"
"Hey," I interrupted, "you stopped me and kissed me!" I was still reeling from hearing that she had fantasies about me. I'd definitely thought about her before, but until she was stroking me in her bed I'd never been bold enough to do anything about it.
"Ugh," she sounded, "whatever."
We were silent for a moment. We were both feeling argumentative, turned on, and confused. The combination made it hard to fire back at each other. Even so, the little tease was still moving her hips around. I don't know if it was just to screw with me or, more likely, she was doing it to make herself feel good.
I ran my hands firmly from her hips all the way up to her breasts, massaging her roughly as I did. Despite her attitude and the words coming out of her mouth, I could feel her breathe deeply and writhe in my hands. I wanted her to just give in to the desires she was clearly feeling and stop posturing herself.
But I knew she wouldn't, especially not tonight. Before my cousin could come out and pass us again Tzuyu pushed away from me and walked, no strutted, back to her room. I backed further into the laundry room and waited for my cousin Chao to pass. He clearly had no idea we had been in there.
I went to bed that night frustrated and still completely turned on. The hour or so it took me to fall asleep my mind raced between visions of my bottomless little sis in the kitchen, or in that cute bra in the hallway, and then the anger I felt about her teasing. A selfish part of me hoped that she would be brooding just the same in the room down the hall.
The next day most of our extended family left. To my dismay, my Aunt Cheng and Uncle Wei hadn't booked a flight out for another two days. They always pulled shit like that: overstaying their welcome, in my opinion. And this time we'd be stuck with little ones sleeping in mine and Tzuyu's bedrooms for two more nights. I was utterly depressed. If only I had a little privacy, where perhaps I could slip into Tzuyu's room and lay with her for a little while until she snuggled up to me like she'd done before. Sadly, I'd not get the chance.
And yet, the next morning, more inexplicable behavior from my sister. I was brushing my teeth in the same bathroom we'd made out and then argued next to the night before. Tzuyu came in wearing some ridiculous workout outfit. Her top was not much more than a light blue sports bra and her shorts a tiny pair of black spandex material with white trim. Her tube socks that matched the top and a pair of new sneakers rounded off the whole thing and made her appear beyond adorable. The eighteen-year-old looked incredibly tan and lean, and showing so much skin that I was practically drooling as I watched her in the mirror.
I expected to get nothing from her after our disagreement the night before. I was wrong. Maybe having cousins in her bedroom for the night had kept her from taking care of some of the sexual tension I'd felt between us in the laundry room. Whatever it was, I watched in disbelief as Tzuyu came up behind me and I could feel her breasts pressing against my back. Holding my gaze in the mirror she slid her arms, slowly but determinedly , to my front and over the shorts I'd worn to bed.
"Are you always hard?" she asked innocently.
"That must be difficult for you." She continued, sounding snide.
Her hands were both, one after the other, caressing the length of my shaft through my shorts. I had been somewhat hard as I usually was in the morning, and more so when I saw my little sister in that damned running outfit. But after feeling the teenager's hands rubbing me, I was positively pining for relief.
I'd stopped brushing my teeth, so my hand hung there suspended in my disbelief. With my other hand I had to brace myself on the vanity because Tzuyu's touch was so amazing that my knees were feeling weak. She was holding tightly to me from behind so I could feel all of her tiny frame and still she was leaning to look at me in the eye.
It felt incredible, though I wanted to get my hands on some of the exposed stomach of my little sister's or the tight material that made her butt look so graspable. I was content to let her continue rubbing me for another minute or so, but thinking about how hot she looked in her outfit made me excited to seat her on the vanity like we had in the kitchen the day before.
I was glad I waited because a few seconds later Tzuyu pulled back the elastic of my shorts and shoved her hand in to grab my cock. She took it firmly in her hand and encircled it with her fingers.
"Holy crap," she exclaimed with big eyes, "I guess I keep forgetting how big you are."
She gently ran her fingers from base to tip and back before grabbing me firmly again. I knew my little sister hadn't had more than a boyfriend or maybe two so her experience was limited, but it was if everything she did was just perfectly sexy. I could never tire of the taboo behavior we had been acting out in the last few days.
And then... it was over.
No warning, no cause like a relative walking by or our parents calling; she just stopped.
"I gotta go for a run," said the beautiful brunette.
She pulled her hand out of my pants and the waistband returned with a 'snap' against my skin. Tzuyu put her hands on my sides and squeezed gently, giving me a jolt before saying "See ya later alligator!" and heading for the door.
"Tzuyu, what the fu..." I called after her. But she was gone, and for the umpteenth time that week I felt totally cheated. I'd let my little sister completely screw with my mind and now my desire and arousal. She wasn't just teasing me innocently or playfully; she was stringing me along for her own evil enjoyment.
It took a full fifteen minutes before the damned sexually starved frenzy my teasing, baby sister had left me in subsided, and when I sat down I was fixated on the image of Tzuyu in her outfit. Someone asked me a question at breakfast and think I actually asked them to repeat it three times before I was able to answer; I was that bound up.
I had to do something. I had to stop fantasizing about Tzuyu and letting her prey on me the way she had been. She was not going to end her torment; that much was clear. But she was also not going to let me call the shots.
I was thinking about how I might sit her down and talk to her, or tease her right back, when she returned from the run. She was glistening from the exercise, her skin shiny but only just. She walked past the six of us seated at the table. I could tell that every one of us guys, even my youngest cousin of around thirteen, had noticed her. I remember thinking how funny they looked, pretending not to watch her as she filled a glass of water and tipped it up in front of the sink. A few drops of condensation landed on the tops of her breasts, and I watched them roll down into her top in the wonderful cleft between each breast.
Then I realized that I probably looked no less pathetic than my cousins, my dad or my uncle. I was as bendable to Tzuyu's will as they were, and I felt the familiar anger at my helplessness climb into my brain.
"Have a good run honey?" My dad asked.
"Yeah!" Tzuyu said, "but it was really hot out there and now I'm all sweaty."
She sort of stuck out her abs and looked at the shining surface of her skin as she said it. My relatives got to talking about their workout routines and such. I was pretty much zoned out, thinking about Tzuyu, what I wanted to do to her and watching her as she walked around the kitchen. At one point, Tzuyu even got competitive, talking about how she thought she could probably beat me in any workout.
"You are really BIG," Tzuyu emphasized. She raised her eyebrows at me as she said it. I knew what she meant even if our family didn't, "but I think I could take you!"
My cousins both laughed, thinking she was issuing a dare. And as I remember, it was then that I decided to take her up on it and to put an end to Tzuyu's teasing. Watching her, with the tight spandex hugging her breasts that I longed to see bouncing up and down as I fucked her, with the taut midsection I would hold on to as I thrusted... the miniature shorts that cradled her pussy so I could just make out her mound and lips... And again she was just dangling herself in front of me like there was nothing I could do.
Well, I could do something, and I was going to. Tzuyu told us that she was going upstairs to shower, and I just nodded my head. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of shooting me another naughty look.
I sat in silence at the table for a few moments. My heart started to pound. I was too fed up, and I was going to explode if I waited until the next moment that Tzuyu and I were alone, whenever that would be. Would I be able to pull it off? What would Tzuyu do? Could I be caught?
Throwing caution to the wind, I mumbled a few words, excused myself and headed upstairs. With each step, my heart pounded harder. I felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.
Thump
Thump
Thump
It was like my heartbeat was at my inner ear and the door handle to Tzuyu's bedroom was a million miles away. It was probably only a few seconds but my head was pounding to the fall of each step until I reached her door.
I heard her turn the shower on within. There was a bathroom in her room actually, so the fact that she was out in the hall the night before meant she had intended to run into me. All the more reason I had to keep pushing ahead with my plan.
I reached her door and listened. I imagined that inside my little sister was peeling her clothes off If I went in now I might be treated to the sight of the teenager bent over as she stepped out of her shorts. Tempting as it was, I had to wait.
It was the longest thirty seconds of my life. Standing there, knowing my naked little sis was just feet away, and knowing what I intended to do... I was indescribably tense.
Finally I heard the sound of the bathroom door close and shortly thereafter the shower door sliding shut. I took a deep breath and turned the handle to her bedroom as quietly as possible. Peeking in, I saw that the coast was clear. I could hear Tzuyu in the shower, probably just beginning to cool off after her run.
I closed her bedroom door behind me, and then stood at the bathroom door: the final threshold between me and the naked teenager who had been teasing me into submission and plaguing my thoughts and dreams. It was with that realization that I opened the door swiftly and silently, slipping in without making a noise.
Tzuyu was turned away from me; I was thankful for that. I could see her through the clear shower door. Her workout clothes were in a heap on the bathmat and she was running her fingers through her hair. She had no idea I was inside or that my hungry eyes were upon her.
Her hair was dark and wet, and even from behind Tzuyu was stunning, drawing me closer. I hadn't yet had the chance to see my little sister fully naked and standing up, stretching to thread her fingers through her hair. The swell of her breasts from the side and the slender and youthful nature of her frame reeled me step by step toward the shower.
My heart was beating incredibly fast and my hands were shaking. At the last minute, I looked up and down my little sister's body. She was absolutely gorgeous, wet and unspeakably alluring. I recalled the desire I felt for her and the way she'd driven me to it and found my confidence. In seconds I tossed off my shirt, shoved my shorts to the floor and grabbed the handle of the shower door.
Quickly, I cast the door to the side and stepped inside. Tzuyu finally heard me and was attempting to wipe the water from her eyes and turn, but she was too late. I'd already shut the door and pinned my little sister against the tile wall of the shower before she could stop me.
"What the fuck Oppa!"
I had been hard from the second I stepped into her bedroom. I had been waiting for this moment since I'd first felt Tzuyu's little backside against me in her bed.
She knew 'what the fuck' was going on because I had her hands pinned against the wall with mine and my cock was planted between her legs. Her chest was pressed against the tile too, and her face turned sideways. I could see the mounded flesh of her tit spilling out to the side of her.
"Oppa, I'm warning you!" She said.
"You're warning me what?" I asked, "What Tzuyu? That you're going to just fuck with me all you want and then just walk away like you own me?"
She didn't answer, but I swear I felt her hips move. The water was only on my legs, but I could see steam rising up between us. I tested her by moving my hips backward and sliding my cock, which had been tucked into the gap between her thighs, against her pussy lips. Then, right away, I pushed it back. Her soft ass stopped me as I forcefully thrust against it. I intentionally missed entering her, but I got so close that I know it got Tzuyu's attention. My brain was positively spinning; I withdrew and set my head at just the right spot where I'd finally push into my little sister's pussy and wiggled it there against her lips.
Tzuyu tensed and her body writhed perceptively. I couldn't be certain, but it didn't seem like she was trying to muscle out of my grasp but that she'd unintentionally responded to the suggestive movement of my hips. For all her denial, for all her teasing and refusal, her body wanted me as much as I did hers. It wasn't just the shower, my little sister was wet and I couldn't wait any longer. She opened her mouth to speak,
"Fuck you Oppa...uhhh...ooouwwhhhhh."
I'll never forget the sound she made when I first felt my cock slip into my little sister's pussy. I don't think she believed that I was actually going to do it. But as I watched Tzuyu's head roll and felt her stand on her tiptoes to slow my entry, she obviously knew what was happening. And the feeling of Tzuyu's teen pussy wrapping around my cockhead was like nothing I'd ever felt before in my life.
It was so wrong, so taboo and so incredibly risky. My hard cock was finally inside my little sister. She had been asking for it long enough, but this time she'd thought I was too chicken to oblige. My hands were wrapped around her wrists at her sides, close enough to still squeeze her hips with my thumb and forefinger.
I grabbed right above her butt, depressing into the soft cheeks and I pushed her down from her toes. She came to rest with her feet flat on the tile floor and my tip an inch deeper inside of her.
I'm not cruel, I knew that she would need to adjust to me as she'd warned before and her wide eyes told me so again. This time, Tzuyu knew that I was in control. Yet, I was content to stand there, unmoving, as we both accepted the reality that we were finally committing the incest we'd been dancing around for days.
I wasn't going to speak first; whoever spoke first would lose this standoff.
I gripped Tzuyu's hips and arms at her sides. Slowly I forced her to bend more and take another inch and another inch of my cock into her tiny pussy.
"Ouuuwwww...Fuck Oppa...stop... oh it's too big... please."
I know it's awful, but for once I liked hearing her beg. With her whimpering as motivation, I stood up taller and continued the thrust into my naked and wet little sister. Her pussy was incredibly tight. It resisted me every bit of the way, but there was no mistaking that she was aroused. By the time I was ready to bottom out inside Tzuyu, she was putting up little resistance to keep me from bringing her backside lower so I could be buried inside her.
I thought I might climax immediately. Every inch of my penis was being snugly sheathed by Tzuyu's pussy. The thought that I was fucking her completely unprotected made me throb inside of her. I remembered her saying that she wasn't on birth control, and the added risk was only more motivation. The fact that she'd denied me so many times and now I was finally getting what she'd teased without her permission was even better. I wanted to simply fuck her, cum inside her and break all of the rules at once.
It was then that Tzuyu revealed the last, unknown piece of the puzzle.
"Fu...fu... fuuuuck Ke..Oppa." She cried with wavering words, "I'm a... ouhhhhhaa... virgin."
I couldn't believe it.
I knew she'd had boyfriends before, and all the teasing and playing... I'd just assumed she was a seasoned seductress. Now I wasn't just fucking my fertile little sister without her consent, I was taking her virginity too. I knew that nobody in the world had ever been so lucky, so aroused and so ready to fuck their little sister in earnest as I was at that moment.
It all made sense now, why Tzuyu wasn't on birth control, why she kept talking about how big I was despite that I'm certainly no pornstar, and why she'd teetered so close to the edge without letting us go as far as we now were.
"Is that why you wouldn't let me fuck you Tzuyu?" I asked her, she turned her face away.
Slowly I removed a few inches of my cock from inside her before steadily sliding it back in. "Ouuuuuwahhhhh... fuckk Oppa... fuck you...you're fucking... ughhh...raping me."
"You knew you were doing this Tzuyu..." I argued, "And you just kept teasing and teasing."
Ever so slightly, I felt her little butt jiggle against me. Perhaps it was a reaction to feeling her first cock inside of her. Her hands were no longer fighting to be free of my grasp, though I didn't risk letting them go.
"Try not to be so tense sis, you'll make it hurt.."
I didn't expect my little sister to comply, but in a few seconds I could feel her insides loosen their grip on me. It truly seemed like she was going to allow me to continue.
Again I fucked her from behind. She felt absolutely wonderful like that. Her height, the smoothness of her skin, the way her back arched just right so that when my hips met her; she was every bit as perfect as I'd dreamed. As I once again shoved my cock into her, hard, I met resistance and knew I was all the way buried to her cervix.
"Fucking dick... uhhhh fuck...oh my God... you're such a fuuuuhhcking asshole!" she said through my next two thrusts.
"What's that Tzuyu," I asked sarcastically, "you want it in your ass?"
I know I saw a smile across her face at my humor, but she quickly concealed it. I had no intention of being anywhere but my little sister's virgin pussy at the moment, but I loved seeing her adorable smile amongst her insults.
I chanced to let go of my little sister's hands; knowing that she might use her newfound freedom to escape. I guess I just thought that I'd already done enough and she deserved to at least have some dignity back. When I let go, I could see her thinking hard about what she would do. I immediately grabbed her hips to hold on tight and keep fucking her as it might have been the end of my chance to do so.
But what happened next was absolutely amazing. My hips slapped against her pretty butt and I watched in awe as Tzuyu slowly lifted her hands to the wall. She pushed away from it, but only enough so her breasts hung free and her head was able to move as she pleased. My little sister was going to willingly let me fuck her from behind. I depressed my thumbs into those tantalizing dimples she had in her back and humped her like I'd only dreamed of doing.
And that wasn't all. After a few thrusts I finally got my hands on her perfect chest. I cradled each breast and then squeezed them firmly against her to continue to fuck her as I had been. My fingers found her nipples and I pinched them, hearing her moan immediately. I guess that was a lot for Tzuyu, and the feelings of having me inside of her for the first time were bringing her to new heights.
No way. No way was I going to stop. I only held her tighter. She was holding herself from the wall with one hand and trying to fend me off with the other. She was hopelessly uncoordinated in her attempt, and each thrust only made her motions more desperate.
"Oppa don't...ohfuckkkk... Oppa... Oppa... please..." she said. Tzuyu didn't know what she was begging for; I knew she'd never felt anything like she was about to. I couldn't stop. She had to experience what I had built up inside of her.
"Ohhh please brother...pleaaaase.. oooOOOUUUW."
She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes upon in that moment. I held her as best I could because I could see her knees giving out beneath her. My hands wrapped around her chest and midsection; my hips continued grinding into her.
My little sister quaked and tensed in my arms. Tears formed in her eyes as she was overcome with feeling. She grabbed at my encircling arms and held them tight. Her nails dug into me until it hurt. Her head lolled back, her graceful neck so close to me that I could smell the remnants of her perfume. Her lungs were filled with the breath she had taken and been unable to expel until the numbing climax released its hold on her. I held on to that beautiful young girl so tight that our bodies were melded together in passion.
Her tunnel squeezed my cock with such ferocity it was almost painful. I could feel her walls rippling as her body revealed to her for the first time what made sex something she'd never be able to go without. And still I just held her. I'd gotten into the shower, penetrated her for the first time and even fucked her into a mind-numbing orgasm without her permission, but I would keep her in my arms, despairingly hopeful that she might forgive me when she came back... that it would all have been worth it.
She did, eventually, regain herself. I could feel strength returning to her limbs. Her panting breaths got deeper, and her nails finally disengaged from me. I'd stopped moving my hips because once she had reached the height of her orgasm I knew she would be incredibly sensitive; Yet, I was lodged as deep as her tiny frame would allow.
The only sound at that point was the constant drone of cascading water. I could feel Tzuyu's little body struggling to take enough breaths to fully recover; her vulnerability was adorable. I didn't mind either, because I took the opportunity to continue lightly massaging her breasts. The first reaction I heard from my little sister was a giggle when I took both her breasts in my hands from behind her and playfully jiggled them against each other. They were simply the perfect size, and I wanted to duplicate the motion I'd seen so many times when they'd been hidden from me in one of her push-up bras. I couldn't help myself, and my little sis seemed to appreciate my admiration.
To my dismay, Tzuyu reached back and put her palms on my hips. With considerable effort, she pushed me away and stood up as tall as she could, sliding my swollen cock from her slowly. Each exposed inch felt cold and uncomfortable when not secured snugly inside my teenage sister. I worried, as my cockhead finally emerged from Tzuyu's tiny opening with the faintest sound of suction, that I'd never get back in.
Now it was my turn to hold my breath. I was hard, longing to finish our incestuous tryst inside my little sister and anxious about what she might say when she turned toward me. At first she didn't look at my face, only down where my staff was pressed against her abs as she turned. It was as if she was staring in wonder at the culprit of her wonderful orgasm, her brother's cock that had invaded her untouched pussy and forced a climax on her.
When she did finally look up, I saw on her face no blame or disappointment. She could have said something to confirm it but when she stood on her tiptoes to kiss me I knew that she'd embraced what we'd just shared. Tzuyu's hands were more aggressive than ever as she reached out for some way to hold on to me as her lips and mine were joined. I felt my cock slip into the incredibly wet cleft between her legs.
"You bastard..." she said with a smile as I tried to prolong our kiss when she pulled away.
"What?" I asked with feigned innocence.
"I can't believe you just did that!" my little sister continued.
"Did what?"
"Well, for starters you took my virginity, and you fucked me without a condom on..." she said with raised eyebrows. "Not to mention you basically forced yourself on your little sister when the rest of our family is like 50 feet away."
"The door's locked," I said with a shrug, "I think..."
Tzuyu hit me on the chest hard and laughed aloud, "You are the worst!"
She looked so pretty, naked with the shower running on her taut little butt and leaning against me. I pulled her tight and could see that her face was still flush from her orgasm minutes before.
"What's the matter, are you worried they heard your big brother "force" you to cum?" I asked while making the quotes motion sarcastically.
"Oh fuck you," she said and then she surprised me with another hungry kiss. The sudden motion pushed me back so that the tiled ledge behind us took out my legs and I fell with a soft 'thud' to a seat there. Without missing a beat, my little sister was straddling me with her back arched athletically.
"I guess I knew you'd snap eventually," she said quietly, in between kisses, "I just didn't think it would be like this..."
I felt Tzuyu searching with her hips slowly for the path of my member, and finding it she whispered, "I'm glad it was."
I was enraptured by the little brunette. My conscious brain was still struggling to accept that I'd just fucked my little sister and watched her cum during her first time. It was far more difficult with the petite eighteen-year-old slowly grinding on my cock. I wanted to beg Tzuyu to take me back inside her, but she wouldn't release my lips yet. Feeling her slit and the opening to her young quim so close was torturous. When she finally did stop to look into my eyes I said,
"So...are you going to show me what all that tight workout gear has been for," my little sister's mouth was already agape as she listened, "or are you gonna just pretend to fuck me while you're up there?"
I knew Tzuyu too well; she could never resist a challenge.
She quickly lifted her hips to position herself, but I could see she was nervous as she held me right at her opening. I lifted my hips up toward her without thinking, causing my tip to prod and then enter her before she could react. Her body jolted and she lifted higher to remove my head from inside her.
"It's really big," she said with big eyes pleading for approval. "I didn't have time to worry about it before."
So I decided to help her... a little. I grabbed Tzuyu's hips firmly and pushed her downward. She must have allowed it, to some degree, because I was able to get her to take almost half of my cock into her tiny channel with one steady push.
"Ohhhh fuck..." she cried, her hands scrambling to mine upon her hips, "God damnit, I shoulda...ughh...shoulda known you'd do that."
Her face was absolutely beautiful as I watched her come to rest with me buried fully inside her. I hope to never forget the way she gasped when I was as deep as I could go.
"You feel so good sis," I told her as I pushed my hips firmly against her, "you are so incredible Tzuyu...mnnnhh... and so freaking tight."
She smiled through a scrunched, focused face and hugged me, kissing my neck when she got close enough. She was still adjusting, which made sense having been a virgin only minutes before. I was content to hold her and feel her body against mine until she lifted her hips off and tried again.
"God...mnnhhhhh... I can't believe it fits in me." Her voice was mesmerizing to me. "You can't cum in me, okay?"
"Why not?" I asked, hoping she'd change her mind.
"Because," she said without much conviction, "because I could get pregnant."
I'm not sure why exactly, but the thought of cumming inside my little sister made me more aroused than ever. I grasped her hips as firmly as I could and helped her along the path of my cock. To my surprise. Tzuyu began rotating her hips in small, front-to-back circles like she'd done it a million times before. I don't know why I was so shocked; I guess with her indescribable sexiness came a natural affinity for being the perfect little plaything.
"Fuuuck Tzuyu..." I said as her hips rotated into mine again.
"Hmmm... what's wrong Oppa?" my little sister asked with a giggle.
"uhhh, unnghhhh...does that feel good big brother?" She was really exerting herself as she said it, moving her hips amazingly up and down on me. Both of us stared in disbelief as my cock disappeared into her over and over.
My hands wandered all over her, fingers spreading as I touched her flat stomach and felt the bottom of her ribcage. Tzuyu had an arm around my neck to steady herself as she kept her hips moving and her other hand guided me to her youthful breasts. They were so soft and perky; her nipples were stiff and the perfect shade of pink to my eyes and plying fingers. I don't know if all teenage girls have a chest like my little sister's but in that moment I thought that Tzuyu's were the most beautiful tits I'd ever see. A couple times I cupped one and lightly licked her nipple. She tried to help me access her, lifting up until my cock was almost out of her. Tzuyu clearly liked it because she arched her back to help me take her puffy little nub in my mouth.
Tzuyu and I were both breathing heavily and she was quietly moaning into my ear as I held her breast and lapped at it. She took my chin aggressively in her hand and kissed me; her forwardness made me throb with desire. I couldn't believe how well my little sister was doing for her first time, and I only wanted more.
I think Tzuyu could tell by the look on my face that I was really affected by the way she was grinding on top of me. She slowed.
"Are you getting close Oppa?"
I didn't want to change anything about the way we were fucking each other. I lifted my hips to maintain the speed she had established with her own. "Ohhh Oppa... fuck that feels...uh...uhh...good! Are you gonna cum soon?"
"Yes... keep going Tzuyu!"
"Unhh uh," she denied me.
Even though I tried to hold my little sister on top of me, her skin was slippery and slid from my grasp as she gracefully lifted herself from me and my cock abruptly popped from her quim. I cursed as she got to her feet and left me sitting there, deprived of my orgasm.
Again she could tell from the look on my face that I was disappointed. She tried to console me as she stood up and leaned in to kiss my cheek and the corner of my mouth.
"You know we shouldn't Oppa, I told you I wasn't on birth control and we could get in so much trouble." She said with those pleading eyes I loved seeing so much.
"I know Tzuyu," I said, placing both hands on her hips and forcing her to lean against me "and I still want to."
If she was intent on subduing my desire to continue with our incestuous sex and fully consummate the act, she wasn't doing a great job. Even as she tried to talk me out of it, Tzuyu had taken me in her hand and was using the fluids that she'd left on me to slide up and down on my cock. I flinched because I was still close to my climax
"That's bad Oppa... I'm in the middle of my cycle and you still wanna come in my pussy... in your little sister's pussy?"
I only moaned in response.
"I wonder what it feels like," she said, working her hand on my tip and leaning in so I could feel her breath on my ear. "I wonder what it would feel like if you squirted all your sticky cum inside me?"
"Fuck Tzuyu," I swore as she teased me.
"But we can't..." she said, never stopping the movement of her hand, "if you did... if you picked me up and fucked me right now... until your big cock squirted all your sperm in me..."
"Tzuyu, stop..."
"You could get me pregnant, you can't get your little sister pregnant..." she said unrelentingly, "what would mom and dad do?"
I couldn't take it much longer. My naked, teenage little sister was too tempting and her words were giving me visions of her belly showing the signs of our incest.
"If they knew my big brother had cum in my pussy, without any protection...
Oh God that would be so naughty," she whispered while her hips thrust her needy mound against my thigh. "fuck, uhhhh."
It was the adorable sound she made as she spoke that forced me to act.
I grabbed her, hard, standing up from my seat and wrapping an arm around her like a naughty child. I swiftly shouldered the shower door and brought her out into the room. On the floor was a furry looking bath mat: the place where I was going to finish with my little sister.
"Wha...what are you doing!?" she asked as if she didn't already know.
"You know what I'm gonna do Tzuyu..." I said with hungry eyes as I laid her on the ground with a thud. I watched her beautiful tits shake and marveled at her young body laid out for the taking beneath me.
"I'm gonna fuck you like you've been asking for..." I was bound by an animalistic drive, "and then I'm gonna cum in that tight little pussy of yours."
"No... Oppa... I" she stuttered, she looked nervous and cute and I was a million miles away from stopping. "I was just being mean... I didn't think you really wouuOOUUUuHHWWW"
I had kneeled at her entrance and pushed my tip into the tiny slit between her lips before she had even begun to protest. There was no chance her words could reach me now.
"Ouhhhh fuuuck Oppa," she tried to yell, but I covered her mouth with my hand. I didn't want our family to interrupt this last thing I had to do if they heard us.
Tzuyu tried and failed to push me off with both hands on my chest as I slid my cock into her in one steady stroke. Her mouth opened wide and she let out a muffled cry into my hand. I took both of her tiny hands over her head in one of my large ones and weighed down on them as I leaned over her.
Her look was a combined one of dismay and pleasure simultaneously. She tried to wiggle free but only succeeded in stimulating my buried member further. I released my hand from her mouth, her eyes begged me to let her speak.
"Ughhhh... fuck you!" she spat as I thrust into her roughly. Her petite body below me was mesmerizing to watch shake each time our hips connected, "Fuuuuck... ouuhhh owww... I hate you!"
I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea, but I leaned in close to kiss her. Tzuyu let my lips connect for a second and then bit my lip. I tried to pull back but she wouldn't let me go. So I forced my hips even harder against her; my tip found my little sister's cervix and prodded it roughly.
She released her hold on my sore bottom lip and gasped. "Ohhh goooddd," she breathed, "Uhhhfuuuck..."
I daringly darted my tongue to flick her lip as she was distracted. She didn't pull away. I slid my cock out and back into her again, and she let me press my lips to hers. She kept them pursed at first, resisting. So I thrust into her again and felt her jaw loosen. Twice more and she opened her mouth... and then we were making out, forcefully.
It was the hottest, angriest sex I'd ever had, and I was very near cumming in my little sister. I left her hands where they were, restrained above her head and grabbed on to her hips. I needed to hold her tiny pelvis as I prepared to climax.
Her hands stayed above her head for a moment, I could tell she was overcome by the feeling of being so roughly handled by her brother and still dealing with the relentless thrusts I was delivering into her. She looked up at me,
"Don't," she warned, her eyes fierce.
"I won't...ugh..." I said, "If you won't."
I had no idea if I could hold my end, but I was pretty sure that by the way my little sister's body was writhing and squirming in my hands that she would soon be helpless to stop herself cumming.
She darted her hands to my back and dug in, scratching me as I pounded her teenage pussy and desperately tried to withhold until she was overcome. As her fingers raked my skin I knew she'd leave a mark. It only made me fuck her harder, deeper. Her legs we wide and her hair was splayed out on the ground. With each drive, her whole body shook and she could do nothing to prevent her whining as I watched my little sister reach the edge and teeter with wide eyes upon me before she finally toppled.
"Ouuuuuuwhhhh oouuuhhh..." she howled, gasping for breath
Her thighs clenched around my waist and I could feel her heels on my buttocks. Instead of nails, I felt her tiny fingers holding onto my upper arms for dear life.
And then... blackness. I saw stars as I rolled my eyes back and buried into my little sister's vulnerable little pussy. I was glad she was holding me so tight because it grounded me as I began the most prolonged orgasm of my life. I felt my cock swell inside her, and my balls tightened to release the first flood of cum into the warm entrenchment of my little sister's quim. I listened to her squeal, knowing she sensed in as each rope of semen splashed her insides and searched to find the perfect path to her womb.
"Ohmygod...ughhh...I can feel...," my little sister breathed through her orgasm, I could hear the strain in her voice, "I can feel you cumming in me!"
I groaned with excruciating sensation as I withdrew a fraction of an inch and then mashed my hips against Tzuyu again, spouting yet another torrent of sperm into her fertile young pussy. Each time I did, I felt my little sister's body tense and her hands squeeze tightly. Seeing her climax was almost as rewarding as having emptied an incredible amount of seed inside of her.
I still held onto her body tight; the shower still ran relentlessly behind us, and for a few seconds my cock refused to stop emitting its incestuous contents into my baby sister. Even then, I knew that if there was any truth to what Tzuyu had told me, she could be pregnant by the very load that now threatened to seep out of her.
I had collapsed on top of her, still trying to hold myself up so I didn't crush my petite little sister. Her breaths were labored, and mine equally so. I could feel her hands gently draped on my back, and her breasts and midsection hot, damp and mashed against me.
It was an indiscriminate amount of time before Tzuyu rolled us over. I tried to help, but she did most of the work. My cock had refused to soften, so it stayed lodged inside of her as she came to straddle me in the middle of the bathroom floor.
Again, silence. Tzuyu halted in a prominent position, knees bent and surrounding my hips tightly. Her eyes were, at first, focused on the place where my cock remained stuffed into her teenage pussy. Our fluids were eking out of the tautly split lips at her opening. Slowly, my little sister lifted her beautiful blue eyes to me. I watched her intently and met her gaze without a blink or a word.
I knew that look; I'd seen it a million times before. She squinted at me and furrowed her brows, looking angry. I didn't flinch. She tried to glare more intently. But slowly, surely, her pursed lips gave way. She did this when she was trying to pretend she was mad at me but knew she was simply acting.
I took hold of her hips; her eyes following my hands. I could probably fuck the little brunette again right then, but I just wanted to give her a jolt. She was small enough that I could urge her up an inch on my cock before dropping her back onto me. I watched as her whole body cringed.
And then she broke out into a full, gorgeous smile before giggling, though she was trying hard not to.
"You..." she said with her big blues, "are a JERK!"
I laughed outright, "What did I do?" I asked with a drawl.
"Ha!" she scoffed, "Are you fucking serious?"
I just smiled at her. Tzuyu directed her eyes between us to where my manhood stuck proudly up into her channel. I was dreading the moment, but as we watched she began to lift herself up and off of my cock. It felt like it took forever, but when she reached my tip, she paused and looked at me again, knowing what we were about to see.
She freed my head from inside of her, and after a second or two, the white gleam of my sperm showed between her recovering pussy lips. After all the cum I had shot deep into her that was surely now making its way to impregnate her, there was still plenty left that dripped out onto my head and shaft which lingered just below.
"Oh... my... God!" she complained. "Are... you...FUCKING...SERIOUS?!"
Again, that adorable look on her face. I knew she'd be mad, but she couldn't hide her smirk. Some of her had to know that she'd been teasing me into a situation just like this.
"Do you always cum this much?" she asked with genuine curiosity.
"Hmmm..." I pondered, "nahh... only when my little sister's been a cock-tease for about a week."
"Fuck you!" She snapped back, "I should just tell mom and dad that you fucked me... no raped me in the shower and then came in my pussy without a condom or anything!"
"Ha-ha you go ahead, but don't leave out the part where you jerked your brother off while he was taking a nap, or the part where you..."
"Oh shut up!" Tzuyu interrupted, "I'm not gonna tell them anything, because then I'd have to tell them how I'm not gonna take the morning after pill either."
"Wha..." I started, unable to find words. I hadn't thought it through, I might have been turned on by the thought of getting my little sister pregnant, but I thought for sure she'd be against it. I'd filled Tzuyu up with cum without really considering it.
"You heard me, it's, like, terrible for your whole body and I'm not fucking taking it." She said confidently. Then her face changed a little; she bit the corner of her lip and spoke more softly.
"Plus, it makes me really horny thinking about my big brother getting me pregnant..."
My mouth was agape, I must have looked silly.
"You can close that mouth of yours big brother. You are the one who wanted to cum inside me so badly, now deal with it."
And she was right. I had fucked my little sister and spurted my cum into her with full understanding of the risks only minutes ago. And now that I really thought about it, I would do it again.
"Well, you little slut..." Tzuyu gasped and slapped me, I responded slapping her ass with both hands and leaving them there..
"I guess you won't mind then if I fuck you again!"
"Wait... I...no..." She attempted to say as I quickly grasped her and lined up her entrance with my cock. Before she could utter another word I lifted my hips and brought her down so my cock, covered in my overflown cum, was once again buried at home in the eighteen-year-old's pussy
I was overcome by lust, fueled by the thought of filling up my baby sister again, and roused by her defiant attitude and willingness to risk pregnancy. I sat up, bent my knees below me, and cradled Tzuyu's soft little ass in my hands.
She resisted at first, probably sore from the pummeling of moments before. But her walls were coated in our fluids and my cock slid more easily between them. Before long, Tzuyu was moaning again and complementing my strenuous effort to make love to her. I couldn't drive as deeply into her, but I loved how the two of us worked together to fuck each other like long-lost lovers.
"God I love the way you fuck me," Tzuyu told me.
"I could do this forever sis," I said as we stared into each other's eyes.
"Well how about you just fill me up again... uhhh fuck... for now...ouhhhh...I wanna feel you cum inside me again!"
Like before, we kissed and then made out arduously. My palms stayed locked onto her plump backside, I could tell she was too weak to stay up on her own. And fortunately, before long, I felt the familiar tightening deep within my groin and the following jolt of sensation that would couple my orgasm.
I don't remember if Tzuyu came. I think she did, because I remember her whimpering, practically sobbing as I urged my cock snugly inside of her. As if I had not already done enough, I began adding yet another surge of my forbidden semen to my little sister's laden pussy. It gushed forth and Tzuyu whined as she felt it splatter deep within. I came so hard for the second time that it hurt, and when I was done I nearly tossed my little toy aside for I could hold her no more.
She panted and laughed at the same time, and I watched her as she laid out on the floor. Her opening, outer lips, and the tiny channel within were soon shining with the unruly cum I'd spent into her. Her beautiful body shimmered with sweat and her breasts heaved up and down as she tried to catch her breath.
I heard Tzuyu laughing; she was as shocked at the whole experience as I.
My little sister... laid out... untouched until I'd gotten in the shower with her... and now, if fate would have it, filled twice and made pregnant by her older brother's semen...
I struggled to catch my breath too, and eventually I laid down beside her and took her in my arms. I have no idea how we got so lucky that nobody had come to find us. I'd later find out that our family had been in the pool and nobody was willing to get out and call us down. For if they had, the state they would have found us in would have been... dramatic
"Well that was... interesting." she said when she'd finally come to.
"Just interesting?" I asked
"It was a lot of things Oppa," she continued, "a lot of things I'd like to do again."
I leaned in and kissed her, long and slow.
"Whatever you want little sis, though, maybe we ought to be a little more careful next time."
"Where's the fun in that?" She asked with a naughty smirk.
After that we showered together, playing and touching each other and watching as my cum leaked down my little sister's leg. A couple times she tried to hold the fluid inside of her that kept making its way out, but it was no use. I told her I would love to fuck her again, but she begged me not to as she was too sore from the first two times I had. Instead I simply played with her entire body and we stayed within inches of each other for the duration of the shower.
When we were done, Tzuyu wrapped a towel around herself and peeked out of the bathroom. She checked up and down the hall before whispering to me that the coast was clear. She didn't have an extra towel so I was stark naked, and before I sidled out into the hall, I snagged the towel from her and pinned her against the wall at the entrance to her bedroom.
I kissed her, and she kissed me right back. I held her tight, and she grasped me like she'd never let go. My erection threatened to go right back where it belonged as it poked between us, and she giggled as it prodded her below.
"Get out of here!" she warned.
"Alright alright," I said regretfully.
Of course, I pinned her one last time against the wall and put a hand on her breast and one on her butt while stealing one last kiss. I held her tight as I took her in for the last time in however long it would take to be back at her side. Her tongue lingered beyond her lips as I pulled away and left her wanting at the door.
Just as I made it to my room I heard our father call. "Kids! What the heck are you doing?"
I yelled something about being right down, and he just assumed we'd been texting in our rooms or something of the like. Before I went in the door, I saw Tzuyu step halfway out of her door, daringly, and put one arm over her breasts while biting her finger and one over her pussy. The pose was something out of a dream, and I'd spend every minute of that day remembering it until I found myself once again fucking my little sister senseless.
When we came back downstairs, our family was none the wiser. I watched my little sister swim around playfully and chat with our family, knowing that her little pussy was still filled with my cum, her big brother's cum, even though she was still acting like her usual, innocent self.
"What were you two doing up there?" my mother asked.
"Just taking a quick nap and a shower," Tzuyu answered, smiling my direction when she knew nobody could see "I needed to rest up and get ready to take my big brother like I said I would."
I couldn't believe my ears. I just nodded and acted disinterested; how Tzuyu was able to lie like that, knowing the truth and hiding it perfectly, I just do not understand.
"Think you're up to the challenge after dinner Oppa?" she asked me, "cuz' I'll be ready for you."
I mumbled something and flashed her a very concerned look when she stopped egging me on. She smiled and gave me that naughty look again, knowing that I'd be fucking her senseless just like she was asking me to right in front of our family like it was no big deal.
If only they knew.
I have no idea how long our secret can stay hidden, but I can't help myself around Tzuyu anymore. She's even more insatiable than me, and our dangerous behavior has only gotten worse since we first started up. But, I don't regret one bit the day I decided to be lazy and take a nap in my little sister's room rather than mine. I love Tzuyu more than anything else in the world, and I know we're both glad that we finally became more than just brother and sister on that day. Someday, maybe soon, we both know what might happen: I'll sit by her side and help explain how happy my little sister and I are together, and why we're so excited to be adding another member to the family...when that time comes.
Until then, I'll be spending every minute I can finding out just how naughty my little sister Tzuyu can be... All because of a nap.
Alright - this is kind of one of those cliché, freeze-frame moments from those sitcoms that puts you right in the middle of the action, or- when you wake up with a pounding headache of hangover after having an apocalyptic night out and somehow everything you’re trying to remember is nothing but a complete blank.
Yunjin sells the part right away, groggily after waking up saying: “God, can you believe what the hell happened last night?”
Sadly, you don’t recall it from the get go.
Kazuha’s body curling the pillow serves as the first piece of information at the scene of the crime: your bed.
“She’s gonna give us an earful of this when she's up,” you say. “We’d be lucky if she’s in a good mood by then.”
“There’s nothing to freak out about,” and Yunjin’s reassurance gives you a warming glimmer of hope. “I’ll tell you this. She came to me, first.”
“Are we talking back then or earlier?”
Yunjin slaps your arm, laughing. She’s aware that the inquiry was entirely rhetorical, a minor press to her buttons. Her thumb rubs Kazuha’s temple, moving a few strands of messy hair away from her face. Bright rays of sunlight breaking through the drapes and the evidence is riddled all over her: the marks, the dry streaks of cum at her legs, sweat glistening across her skin. Your mental checklist is filling up by the minute.
“To be fair,” and it’s a realization to be made: “She did ask for this.”
“Yes," Concurs Yunjin. "Yes she did.”
–
Let’s summarize it like this: post-grad life is absolutely no joke.
Your realization of this has been deeply humbling.
And you’re reminded, again - from one of your friends who’s on the same boat as you: taking things day by day is always the way to go, don’t ever forget that.
It sounds easier said than done.
The lovely chime of the lock popping out from its hole plays a nice tune of pomp and circumstance, your humble abode of trinkets and gadgets and items greeting you a ‘welcome home!’ after a long day of work. It’s worth noting: you’re not actually working - not yet, but the job search in the pool has been quite dry.
You sigh, get your shoes off at the doorstep, and toss your jacket on the nearby chair you lay your eyes on.
When you finally hobble over to the couch, Yunjin appears right on cue; half hair up, half down, fresh out of the shower and in one of your shirts. You know her schedule by heart: the day was Thursday, which meant that she was out for a pickleball run with Somi and Giselle who convinced her to give the sport a try. She had some prior experience with tennis, so most of the skills easily transferred over. Talk about being multi-talented.
“Hey,” she greets, tapping your thigh as a signal to give her some space on the seat. “Long day today?
“Yeah,” you say, rubbing the sleepiness off your face and graze your thumb on the top of Yunjin’s thigh. “Nothing much to report- oh. I managed to get a callback from that one place I told you about last week.”
“The start up Sian’s working in? Any good news?” Her voice lights up in excitement, brows elevated and head at an angle like a golden retriever. “I thought that place was only fifth in your options.”
“It was, but figured that I’d work backwards on the list from bottom to top.”
Yunjin smirks, nails to your knuckles, tic bouncing off her tongue, agreeing. “What an innovator.”
“A different angle,” you laugh, “Worth giving it a try.”
“We all have to start somewhere,” she tells you, voice light-hearted and calming. “Besides, life isn’t a linear graph that one follows. Everybody has their ups and downs they don’t want to admit.”
She does have a point, so you nod.
“Don’t be discouraged if there’s no results right away,” she adds on, lifting her hand up for you to momentarily give you a handshake as if she was your brother or something, curling your fingers with hers before ending it off with the pull down, gently slapping your cheek to force a smile out of you. Yunjin’s got all the remedies you can ask to boost your mood up, no point arguing otherwise. “You also said that you didn’t like the one other place second on your list.”
“That cafe would be nice. Can finally cross off how to make the perfect matcha drink, too,” you reply, sitting up and sliding your arm across her waist, bringing her closer.
“Mhm,” she hums, smiling the more she leans into your touch. If there was anything that you know very well to do: is how easily it is for her to let these things slide - more so like you can literally sweep her off her feet and suck the life out of her, without having the guilt lingering whatsoever. She’s so agonizingly pretty in your eyes and the fact she can say some of the coolest things in her perspective about life because she realizes that it cuts both ways. You could listen to her talk smart all day, until she plays into the dirty ditz where it gets closer to one familiar end far faster than you would like to admit. “I’ll say this compliment, then: you already have the best cup of coffee in town,” Yunjin says, a smirk with a chin lifted up and your tongue pressing the inner side of your lip. Her gaze goes hazy, and the half-lidded eyes coming from you really sends the message either way. “I actually like the whole package you’re selling. It’s sweet.”
“You think of me as sweet? I guess so too.”
“That’s not the only thing sweet about you,” says Yunjin, palming your crotch and scratches the fabric, her breath at your teeth. “You’re dangerous.”
“Jen, what are you trying,” you chuckle, slow and low; the tone like you’re wanting to find something without putting too much force into suspicion. “Need I remind you that you were almost late to practice earlier?”
As Yunjin bites her lip at the lean in, only to be interrupted by the same chime at the door. A second later, the sound gets replaced by another girl’s huff, keys jangling and boots clattering on the floor before making their way further into the apartment. Both of you look towards her direction out of curiosity.
“Back already, Zuha?” Yunjin asks, leaning out more to the point she’s almost perpendicular to the seat of the couch, “How’d the hair appointment go?”
“Good!” Kazuha beams, shrugging off her handbag and straightening her denim jacket outshined by her new color of hair - she mentioned it in the group chat between you three with a picture of her head wrapped up in tinfoil, so the input paid off. “Thought it would take longer, but I really like this shade much more than the blonde I had a year ago.”
“Oh god,” you breathe, “I can’t stress how much I hated the blonde shade back then.”
Kazuha’s brows crinkle, lips inward. She doesn’t want to admit it herself, but she did say her blonde hair wasn’t the right choice. “Dickhead. I thought I told you to take that opinion outside.”
“I’m not going to apologize for saying what’s right.”
“Guess I don’t have to ask you what you think about my hair and go directly to Yunjin instead.”
“Ash blonde is more of your style, Kazuha,” you admit, Yunjin also agreeing with a little nod of her own. “If you were to ask me, I’d prefer this one over the blonde you had from last year.”
“He does have a valid reason,” Yunjin adds, palm to your chest when she stands up from the couch with a water bottle in her hand from the table. Tosses it towards Kazuha who catches it without an issue. “You staying in or stopping by tonight?”
Kazuha chugs half the bottle down, smacks her lips soon after. “Got an hour to chill, told Saku and Chaewon we’re eating out tonight. Since Sakura’s boytoy leaves tomorrow to-”
“Study abroad,” you input, “I remember she was talking to me about him a few weeks ago.”
“So no more dick for me or her,” Kazuha says.
“You’re serious,” you say back. “Dude.”
Kazuha twists her face, hands wrapped tighter around the plastic. “Dude. It is serious. A total loss for the home team.”
“He wasn’t even your boyfriend to begin with.” Yunjin butts in, almost ad-libbed.
“That’s what makes it fun!”
“This girl can’t be helped,” Yunjin, shifting her attention to the cutting board of chicken and vegetables. “Sucks for her to be put out of commission all because she can’t get her pussy filled up this weekend.”
“I heard that, bitch.” Kazuha yells deep in the hallway. “Why don’t you tell Chaewon while you’re at it too with her boyfriend.”
You laugh at the annoyance Kazuha has in her voice. Yunjin rolls her eyes and wheels around in the kitchen. The pair part ways into doing their own activities around the place and that’s really the end of that. There’s a sense of comfort you find yourself in within these walls. When the world outside you doesn’t swing the way you want it to, it’s always nice to lay back and relax - save the problems of today to tomorrow. You lace your fingers together, put them over your waist and cross your ankles up to the armrest, closing your eyes.
“I’ll be here,” you’re saying aloud, a usual announcement during these hours: “Wake me up when the food’s ready, or if Kazuha leaves, whichever happens to come first.”
–
Among the never ending loop of emails, interviews, and outings at different food spots to brush up the resume, you’re getting sick and tired of the daily activities as a whole. You’re doubtful, like a running inside joke you’re not in on.
You tell Yunjin about the struggles, to which she tells you: “there’s no such thing as mistakes in a plan that’s meant for you, babe.” God bless her, the literary ability this woman has reminds you again as to why she wanted to be an english teacher or writer. Hell, philosophy might’ve been her forte, but it’s another debate topic to save for later.
Kazuha’s outlook is a bit more abrasive; more real and a little less innocent, doesn’t mince her words at all. “Look, I know we give much shit between us at times,” she blurts out on a random afternoon, “but I think those people who do the hiring don’t know what you’re capable of yet, and it angers me about them not caring about you.”
“Didn’t think you’d have the heart to say that to my face.”
Kazuha squints, confused. Yunjin looks up from her book, eavesdropping.
“If we’re being honest,” Kazuha continues with a wave of her hand. “this is basically like you getting me through college apps back in senior year, me having the breakdowns on a nightly basis because you shat on my essays being complete trash-”
“Somewhat relevant, yes. Still isn’t as close to what I feel.”
Ever since graduation (and even before then), the pair have gotten used to each other in no time flat. Yunjin eventually had to end the lease on her apartment at the beginning of summer and it was a no brainer when you popped the question of moving in. They both have similar tastes, similar styles - the list goes on and on. But hey: two of the hottest girls on campus are living with you and every time someone brings it up you just give them a shrug.
(The non-verbal message presents itself like it’s no big deal.
Or one quiet way of answering: ‘fuck you, stay out of my business’.)
Yujin closes her book and treats herself to the cup of tea on the table. “It’s pretty much a similar experience across the board, no need to overcomplicate it.”
You check your phone with the same kind of energy in receiving a text. Quick skim here, no luck. “Whoopty-fucking-do, still no message back from Minnie about the software position.”
“No stress babe, it’s Friday night after all.”
“I’d text her personally to see if there’s any hold up, rush the process a bit.” Kazuha suggests.
You pull your lip. “I could, but what do you want me to do? It’s not my fault that the job market and economy as a whole is in shambles, toying with the idea of teasing me like it’s some ‘will they, won’t they’ kind of situation. But seriously-” and here your hands are in your face in a small sign of frustration, “it’s a bit discouraging on the latter when I could be spending my time on-”
“Pressure isn’t a good look on you,” Kazuha tuts, snorting. She reclines back on the seat, sliding her heels on the floor, “I’m sure someone will swoop you on their ship sooner or later. The strategy here is just sit and wait, taking into account the number of places you dropped by today and they can’t look at the CV the moment you hand it to them. Ever heard the saying: “Rome wasn’t built in a day?”
“Classic for the kids.” Yunjin recites, hands bracing her chin. “Patience is always the everlasting virtue.”
“Both of you are dead last in lecturing me about practicing a positive mindset.”
Here they laugh in midst of deliberation. Because Yunjin’s shaking her head while Kazuha’s turning her attention away to something that isn’t on you. The heat starts to rise on your face in embarrassment. Yunjin’s gaze lowers on Kazuha as she crosses her arms, fingers tapping along the opposite limb, sharing the same look before she looks over to you once again. Silence fills the table for a moment until Kazuha’s phone vibrates on the table, prompting her to swipe it off the surface and check the notifications in mere milliseconds.
Kazuha’s eyes briskly shimmers from the screen, face lighting up once she’s finished reading. “Oh shit,” she breathes. “I forgot I was going out with Sakura tonight.”
“Where to this time?”
“Eunchae’s,” she answers, briskly standing up and typing her life away. “Just a quick outing, doughnut run, nothing too big. Yunjin, you still coming?”
“Can’t.” Yunjin yawns. “Tired and plus I had a movie date planned with this one,” she says with a head bob towards you.
“Ew- gross,” Kazuha mutters. You look at her dumbfounded while Yunjin smirks. “Whatever, enjoy your impromptu movie date.”
“Prayers up for the dick that’s about to cross paths with you,” you remark over your shoulder. “Whoever’s the lucky one to bend you over tonight, I’ll drink to that too.”
Kazuha smacks your head then walks away. “I’ll take that same fucking bottle when I come back and smash it over your head.”
“Ouch.” Yunjin sighs, putting on her glasses and stretching. “I’ve been telling you it’s a lost cause for her.”
“Hey. That’s her problem, not mine.”
–
Kazuha’s problems, whether you like it or not, usually end up becoming yours.
Not that it’s her fault or anything. The girl just spills out one word and it turns into a never ending ramble of sentences.
Fifteen minutes have passed since dinner, for the ones who are curious - fifteen minutes of valuable time lost in Kazuha’s eyes because she can’t seem to get her life together when it comes to proper efficiency. You and Yunjin are bundled up on the couch, watching some dating series on netflix that’s been all the rage across social media. The cast upon preliminary assessment are all attractive - some with a stronger bias than others, but you deduced Yunjin’s opinion was much more important than what’s happening on screen.
Self-insertion is a matter of conceptual perspective, is what she’s trying to tell you.
“All I’m saying is-” she groans after your pitiful laugh, “we put ourselves in that scenario, and I guarantee the ratings would go up.”
“Pretty high pedestal you’re putting me there,” you comment.
Yunjin slaps your shoulder and gawks at you, playfully offended. “Oh please, if you didn’t take me to paradise, how else would you make your case compared to the other good looking guys?”
“Don’t need to, since I’ve already got you.”
She coos at the remark, laughing at you playing it off in the coolest way imaginable. It’s cringy, but who the fuck cares? The fact that she agrees with the statement only solidifies the pull you have on her. A win-win situation.
“What about Kazuha?” Yunjin follows up shortly after. “I think she’d be a great fit there.”
“If I were one of the guys on that show and she was one of the contestants, I’d try everything to date her in a heartbeat,” you tell her.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really what?” Kazuha walks in a second after your reply, with a zip-up to her frame and peeping over to see what was on the screen. “I heard my name down the hallway.”
“Oh nothing, Zu,” answers Yunjin, waving her hand to shoo her off. “We were just saying that you’d be a great addition to the dating show cast. I can’t lie, some of the guys in this are super hot.”
“Ahem,” you cough.
“Shut up,” Yunjin says. “You were literally just telling me that you’d date Kazuha if you had the chance.”
“Never in a million years,” you hear Kazuha say, disgusted. “That can of worms stays shut for a reason.”
“A fun topic to talk about,” you’re laughing out loud again, shaking your head. Kazuha squints her eyes and her lips are spread wide in annoyance. A common expression she does whenever she can’t comprehend the bullshit coming out of your mouth at times - for most occasions is all sarcasm and nothing more. “You may not like it, but who’s living with who here, hm?”
“I’ll kick your ass again if I have to,” Kazuha chuckles - a tilt of her head to keep it subtle, but you know well she intends that.
you say
“Can’t beat my ass if you haven’t gone out yet,” you retort, pursing your lips. Kazuha glances at the clock and realizes what time it was, cursing under her breath. She shoves a hand in her pocket and bolts for the door, throwing up a peace sign to you and Yunjin, letting you both know she’s finally on her way out.
“Bye Zuha, have fun!” Yunjin yells in a light tone.
“Don’t burn the place down until I get back, but the noise complaints are fine,” Kazuha says, slotting herself through the door the next second, into the cold.
–
“That girl with the dark blonde hair looks like Kazuha,” Yunjin tells you, pointing at the screen. She’s right. The one on the show appears to be at the right height, similar body build, not to mention the abs highlighted from her swimsuit. “I’m telling you, it’s a carbon copy.”
It’s been a little over an hour since Kazuha left, maybe more - you haven’t been keeping track, really. The episodes and runtimes are starting to mesh together to the point where Yunjin’s starting to get other ideas with that mischievous hand of hers, working at your shorts.
“She’s hella popular with the others - so you might be right, considering Kazuha’s the mix of an extroverted introvert,” you say, paying no attention to the slip of Yunjin’s hand into your boxers, fingers snaking the length. She can feel you getting hard.
You’re on the same wavelength as Yunjin: hand trailing up her thigh, thumb and index pinching the waistband of her panties beneath the blanket before curling your fingers across the fabric, hearing a hitched breath.
“There’s no way they don’t hook up while recording, right? Like- the fuckable scales are off the charts,” she assesses, squirming her hips to the fingers circling over her clothed clit. She cocks her head as you pull your lips inward, trying to see the transmitting message in her eyes.
You press a little further in at the opening, feel the dampness spread across. Oh yeah, she’s soaking them.
“We wouldn’t know, per se, since the whole point of inferno is all about exclusivity. Getting to know the person without any outside distractions, that kind of thing,” you conclude. You’re paying more attention to your hand than the show.
“Them having sex on camera would be so normal,” Yunjin says, a word slips out but her mouth forms to something else when you slip a finger inside without a warning. “So normal.”
“You’d be right.”
“Definitely,” she breathes and it’s heavy. This segment has been slowly building in the background; the part where few words are said and relied more on the action: Yunjin’s thumb presses down on the head of your cock and grips around it, languidly stroking; your breathing stops for a moment, bobbing the air down your throat, coming up with a proper response, ending with nothing. You can feel your lower body tense and relax with the ticks of the clock, an indicator for what’s about to happen if you keep this up. You don’t fight it - nor want to, since you’re both well aware that the teasing is a better way to eat up the time with your bodies rather than everything else.
It’s only natural to do things like these. You’d always make time for being horny.
Before you know it, your shorts are on the floor. The same could be said with her panties, tossed away to a corner in the room for you to ask yourself “well how the fuck did that get there?” later when the damage has been done. Her shirt’s being held up by her teeth and you’re taking all the sights of her upper half uncovered past her shirt. Nothing but porcelain skin and amber nipples waiting to be marked up and bitten. Your hips get put in place and your mouth is taken over by Yunjin’s, feeling the glide of her folds across your cock and the slickness of her cunt on your fingers, smearing her thigh.
Her breath is warm, just like her face; mouth hung open when she settles her pussy on your shaft. She finds joy in the loose and unraveling expressions: all wide-eyed and nowhere else to go. Your head falls back once the grip registers in the nerves.
All in the rise and fall of her hips. She’s gyrating them as a test like it’s a given - which it is. She loves it when you’re raring to go, dicking her hips down or fucking herself on your cock. It’s all the same.
“Babe,” she whispers into your ear. The blanket uncovering your lower halves, barren skin now out to the open air. “I want it.”
Fuck, she could meet you halfway with the wetness of her pussy and already be there. You hold her hips and waist steady and she begins to ride.
–
Here is where the story - or rather, the ordeal - truly unravels. As Anakin Skywalker famously declares on the glowing screen before the darkened room: ‘This is where the fun begins.’
You’re woken up to the incessant buzzing of your phone on the nightstand, blinded by the glare of the television, drowsy as fuck, and slightly sweating. You also don’t even bother looking at the time because your lock screen is basically a flashbang of your selfie with Yunjin even with the caller ID blurring it. It’s from an unknown number (it isn’t but you can barely see as it is) and even if you’re entertaining the idea of not answering it, you do anyway.
“Hello?” Your voice graveled and deep, clearly tired. “Who is this?”
“Oh, you’re Yunjin’s boyfriend, right?” The girl on the other end asks. Her voice is surprisingly masculine. You would’ve mistaken her for a guy in that case. The line goes quiet for a few seconds, afraid that she possibly called the wrong number. “You sound like Yunjin’s boyfriend. By the way, it’s Eunchae.”
Crap, you remember that Kazuha was with her for tonight’s activities. Wondering what the hell happened this time for her to call instead of Sakura as the usual standby.
“We have a situation here,” she continues, mouth ticked with a hint of annoyance. “Kazuha’s hammered and Sakura’s getting her business on with some guy out in the alleyway. Told me to call you if she didn’t come back in five minutes. And it’s been more than five minutes.”
“Shit, I didn’t think it’d be that serious.”
“The fuck were you expecting?”
“I dunno- just a simple doughnut dine and dash? Neither of them told me about a party.”
“That’s because the two of them tagged along with the guy they met there and it’s been downhill ever since. I wanna go home.”
Can’t help but feel bad for Eunchae, since you were in her shoes before.
“Mind hurrying it up a bit? I can hear Sakura’s moaning behind me and it’s looking like she won’t be going home tonight.”
You scratch the back of your head, raking off the sleepiness before rubbing your eyes. “Alright, be there in a few. Where do you want to meet?”
“I’ll send my location, my house isn’t far from here.”
–
In a slight reiteration, you’ve become used to Kazuha’s antics.
Kazuha brings in Sakura and her plus one late at night, you know how that goes; Kazuha can’t decide which top goes well with her loose pants for the grocery run; Kazuha procrastinates on some of the chores around the apartment and leaves you alone to pick up her slack. She smacks your ass for fun and runs away into her room - goes to show the years of friendship you have between you two. When you’re up late studying for midterms or finals, the noise cancelling headphones serve well to block out the sounds of Kazuha touching herself -or, the fact that you’re putting her pile of laundry on her bed and it’s riddled with the assortment of playboy magazines, dirty clothes, and the vibrator (which you don’t question) next to it. She’s an agent of chaos. A perfect anthesis to your very livelihood.
It’s certainly no exception when you mentally add alcohol into the mix.
“Do I want to know how she ended up like this?” You ask Eunchae upon arriving, kneeling down to a slumped Kazuha against the brickwall on the sidewalk - hand to the back of her head to get a better look of her drunk gaze: one eye open and giggling like an idiot, her words slurring.
“She literally grabbed the first beer handed to her when we got here,” Eunchae replies, showing you a picture of the moments before disaster. “I thought she was a heavy weight.”
“Depends on what they were passing out in that party.” You move Kazuha’s head around to ensure nothing happened to her. So far: face blushed with pink, a lazy eye, messy hair and sweaty skin. But most importantly: no marks. “Did Saki tell you to stick with her while at the party?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Well that’s the good news,” you’re saying to yourself. Kazuha might be a pain in your ass, but she is your longtime friend, after all. Like anyone else, you’d go the extra mile to keep an eye out for her.
You then glance back at Eunchae, her shadow casted by the glare of the overhanging streetlight, arms crossed with the light tap of her foot. Her thumb subconsciously swipes the phone screen as you both look at Kazuha when she snorts, playfully hitting your arm.
“She’ll be fine,” you softly say, hoisting Kazuha’s arms over your shoulders and adjusting her on your back. “Given the fact that Sakura’s getting her fuck-fix for the weekend, I’ll leave that be.”
“Mhm, girl’s a piece of work,” Eunchae concurs, lashes fluttering in the dim lighting, air to the left side of her cheek. “And here I thought we were getting our box and heading back home but-” she then motions a hand to Kazuha murmuring behind you. “-this shit unfolded and, yeah.”
“The regular stuff,” you admit, because it really is. You twitch your head the opposite way from the house party. “My car’s this way, I’ll drop you off on the way back.”
–
(Dealing with a drunk Kazuha in the car was simple math:
Make sure she’s comfy, for one. Recline the seat all the way back since her feet will most likely end up on the dashboard for another. And almost beating every red light at the intersections so that she doesn’t get cranky with all the stops and turns for the third note.
A long list and every contingency written in the book: you know her that well.)
–
3:00 in the morning is usually classified as ‘primetime hours’ for Kazuha.
Except for tonight.
You’re running through the standard procedure: get out the car, walk up the stairs, hook a right, second door past the balcony.
Left shoulder, right shoulder, right foot up, then left; fix Kazuha’s weight on your backside so you don’t throw your back out early, lean a little too forward she’ll fall right off, look back when she’s secure.
For a girl like her to be 5’7” and 105 pounds, it doesn’t add everything up in your head. She’s humming a song - the lyrics incoherent, tone consistent - then all of a sudden she yelps in surprise. Keep her quiet - a fifth noise complaint from the neighbors in the span of three days was not on the agenda for this week.
She smacks your head, half awake. “Hey, how did I get home? Put me down.” Kazuha pushes herself off, landing on her feet with a stumble, prompting you to hover your hand to her waist so that she doesn’t lose balance. It’s 3 in the fucking morning and Kazuha’s drunk out of her goddamn mind. “Wait, when did you get here?”
“I drove us,” you tell her, moving her arm over your shoulder and walking her towards the door. “Looks like you had fun tonight.”
“I did,” Kazuha hiccups, blinking slowly. “Super fun time.” Her gaze freezes. You can’t tell if she’s grumpy or plain tired (trick question: it’s the second answer); she then closes her eyes with that neat, flat eye smile of hers to where you see the slightest dimple on her face. You could imagine the stars shimmering over her head. Kazuha has so many spirit animals that you could pair her up with, but if you had to choose one-
“Ehe-” she giggles, staggering her right foot before readjusting her balance, doing the same laugh again.
(She would definitely be a samoyed.)
So you stifle a laugh and close your mouth, opening the door.
You’re leading the way back into the apartment while Kazuha tries to walk on her own. She fails. Her forearm bracing the doorway while you shift your body back around out of concern. Her body lurches forward like she just went twelve rounds in a boxing ring, fatigued. She straightens herself up with a hand on top of her head, chin tilted higher when she leans forward, about to fall. Like any other caring friend would do in this situation: you catch her.
“Easy, easy.” You hold yourself steady, accepting the weight. Or- when you’re stumbling too and shuffle your feet for proper placement. “You said you didn’t drink that much, tell me the truth.”
Kazuha hums, mindlessly bobbing her head in the form of a yes.
Her gaze is sleepy. Both of your hands are at her shoulders, keeping her upright. Kazuha’s zip-up slips off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone, covering the tubetop she was wearing with a set of underwear you haven’t seen before. Probably new, you assume. “Kazuha, stand up straight for me, please?”
“Mmkay,” she slurs.
“Think you can walk back to your room by yourself?”
“Nope.” Kazuha beams with her head to the left.
You sigh. Pat the side of her face to wake her up a bit. “Guess you can’t be helped.” A hand’s extended like a peace offering. “C’mere, I’ll take you there right now.”
“If you take good care, I’ll let you fuck me.”
Oh, hell no-
You weren’t prepared for this kind of Kazuha at all. There was no plan. Not even a proper response in your head could cover for it.
Kazuha being drunk was always the marker for attention. Put her with the right people (like Sakura, Chaewon, even fucking Yunjin), and it’s guaranteed to be a never ending stream of laughs throughout the day and into the night. Not one second goes by when you’re out with friends to look over the shoulder and see the most questionable acts coming from her that twists the creases across your face and forces you to bear no mind to what’s happening behind you; stay focused now, ask questions later. When you do bring up the topic, it gets brushed over and eventually ignored. You have so many ‘why’s’ as it is, but you find it best to save it for the morning.
“Kazuha, you’re clapped. There’s no way you just asked me to-”
“But I’ll be good for you. C’mon, don’t you think I should repay you in some way?”
“You getting sleep right now will be good for me. Now let’s go, I’m tired as it is-”
Her arms wrap around your shoulder and middle lazily. You can’t afford to handle another minute of this nonsense and just get your ass back to bed. That alone should be a right in itself, but this girl won’t fucking let go.
Next thing you know, her lips graze the bottom of your neck before resting on your collarbone. Your name is heard into your shirt, and you huff in annoyance. Plus, your voices could be a little louder than usual since Yunjin’s a heavy sleeper. At this point, you’ve had enough: so you slip your fingers into Kazuha’s hair and yank her head back to see her face wince at the sudden pain. There’s no shame when you see her biting her lip, half-lidded eyes gazing with no care of the lust behind them. “Just help me to my room, I promise not to give you trouble. I owe you. Need to thank,” she mumbles, licking her lips. “I’ll be a good girl.”
“Christ- Kazuha, we’re not doing this.” But talking to her while she’s intoxicated isn’t going to do you any good.
Now you carry on, dragging her closer to the room, ignoring the assault of mindless kisses she’s placing all over your neck. She ups the ante when her hand palms your sweats, trying to play it off in standing upright.
“Jesus- Kazuha,” you angrily swear, similar to all the times she pissed you off.
“What? You don’t like that?” Kazuha asks, lips parted when she rests her fingers at your crotch.
“Fucks sake, no.”
“Aw come onnnn,’ she whines, trilling the last bit of the words. “Yunjin always has her fun, why can’t I?”
“Because I said no.”
“You won’t even let me suck you off? What if I just wanna stay here and sit so I can do that?”
You can’t stand her being like this.
“I always hear you and Yunjin getting it on in your room.” She leans on the wall next to the open door, curling her hand around your arm while the other doesn’t move. “How would it feel if I called you daddy again for once?”
The scrunch in your nose shuts down the thought immediately. You’re sensible enough to not entertain the idea, despite how tempting it is. No. You know better. You know damn well what that shit does to you even if it slapped you in the face. No one casually spills the word ‘daddy’ like it’s nothing and expect no reaction. Her mind’s swimming in alcohol. You’re starting to wonder what the hell she drank at that party.
“Again- God. Zuha.” You flicker your eyes into the void of the hallway. The nickname only comes up at times where she’s really getting on your nerves. “For the last time, you are getting your ass to bed and we’ll talk about it in the morning.” Kazuha winces at the sharp tone, realizing she’s overstepped her bounds. Bless the last bits of common sense she has left; you don’t know where you’d be if she didn’t use her brain cells for something else that required her to think.
“Ugh, fine,” she tells you, and the tamped down ego in your head is satisfied in victory, stepping into her room. You hold her at the arms and help slip out of her jacket, tossing it on her chair as she does her part in sitting on the bed, waiting for you to lie her down. “I was hoping that you could fuck me.”
“In your dreams,” you rebut firmly.
Right before you walk away, Kazuha grabs your wrist. A few wisps of her hair fall over her forehead. “Wait,” she says, and that should’ve been the red flag to swipe your hand away from the imposing threat - a dangerous risk you’re not willing to take. You clench your teeth and swallow hard, with the slightest bit of pull in your arm. “At least-”
You actually don’t move forward, but backward.
“At least touch me, just this once.” Before you know what she’s doing, it’s already too late. Her hand guides yours to her thigh, working the curve of your thumb and index up her waist. Part of you is impressed at the amount of work she put in maintaining a chiseled frame, the muscle very much present the more your fingers press down on the skin. “For a little bit.”
(Should’ve left the room when you had the chance.)
Your eyes continue to gaze and drift all over Kazuha’s body, hand to her chest with the thumb curling below her breast. Her humming rumbles low, safe. It hadn’t been that long since she was out in the cold, but she’s surprisingly warm.
She makes sure every single part of your hand feels it, flipping it over to the knuckles past her hips, fingertips making contact to the patterned lace of her panties - the fabric clearly damp when she starts to shift her hips at your touch. It’s all gone wrong - a mess, one really fucked up mess - her lower half continues to move with both of her legs pressing your hand in, holding you tight at her sensitive clit, the huffs rising and falling along with her chest the more she used your fingers to get herself off.
Drunk Kazuha was easy to deal with. Sleepy drunk Kazuha was a cakewalk in caring for. But never in your years of knowing her where she would be like this. Let alone the fact you’re in a relationship with her best friend and you’re staring further and further away from the door towards freedom.
The reality check will be cashed in once it’s all over.
You say her name, which spills out in a stutter; your state of mind incomprehensible to the stacked hands working the heat and slick between Kazuha’s legs, head unable to stay still and lolling side to side, elbows digging into the mattress.
How does she not feel embarrassed with what she’s doing? Sarcasm applied: how are you not ashamed of this?
It hits you right then and there: in the retracted hand of yours, eliciting another small tantrum of Kazuha kicking and waving her arms like a kid. You take a second to pause, remember how you got here in the first place and why, clouded with anger and confusion, hindering a sizable amount of time to reflect. Soon, you found it best to retreat from the situation and into the kitchen, grab a glass of water and wash your hands to calm yourself.
(Even as your thumb grazes the glass in a period of contemplating, the whole ordeal can't be swallowed down that easily, as much as you want it to. Not when you’re achingly hard in your sweatpants and that serves a few more strings of curses out your mouth.)
One last thing that you could do before heading back to your room was set the small bottle of aspirin at the side of her bed for when she wakes up. Maybe convince her to use that body pillow of hers to mimic the warmth; you nod your head at the thought, it could work and it should. It’s been a few minutes since her mini breakdown and you assume that she’d be asleep by now.
You couldn’t wait until the morning to tease her about being a horny drunk - worry about being her personal punching bag later.
Apparently the teasing would have to wait. Because your personal ideal about Kazuha was about to be shifted again.
The last thing you would’ve expected was for her to be sound asleep. Instead, she’s got her tube top up to her upper chest, one delicate hand furiously rubbing sloppy circles into her clit, the other gripping into the mattress as she’s on her knees, body pillow between her legs, grinding into the cushions. Her pants are at the foot of the bed, panties loosely around her right ankle. She’s an insufferable cocktease.
It’s something straight out of your wet dreams, from a time when everything revolved around Kazuha. You’re sucked into an inescapable vacuum of thoughts you’d never think of again (with things like those, it’s all a lie, they always are). You can’t stop peering through the crack in the door, opening it wider to watch Kazuha grab a handful of her tit and ride her own hand. She’s too into it to pay attention to you, and you’re fighting every urge in the fingers sliding down your thigh, unable to move.
She only seemed to have one thing on her lips, the only thing plaguing her intoxicated mind. The tube top at her pits and the gush of her cunt soaking up the last pillowcase, but you’re seeing it clear as day.
You can’t help but think how good your name sounds on her lips.
Kazuha then gropes both of her tits, pinching both buds of her nipples to keep her from stopping, finally figuring out that she can continue without the support, falling back on the bed, unfolding her legs like butterfly wings to reveal how wet she was. The small webbing of her slick coating her index and middle fingers, leaving more spots on the bed sheets beneath her.
There’s a deathly, fucked up part of you in the back of your mind: that wants to give in to the temptation. Oh, you could give Kazuha the same treatment as Yunjin when you have her in a blithering wreck, fucking her full as she creams on your cock, grab her by the hair and press her to the closest thing nearby to reatalite on the slightly abusive attitude. Get your tongue all over her cunt like it’s the last meal you’d ever have on your knees and have her cumming and hands full of every single part of her body until she’s had enough (which will most likely be never in this case). The need for more is an absolute certainty, a greater purpose. You'll consciously be happier in being rough, be a pain in her ass (quite literally, sooner than you think), and completely forget about the resistance or consequences.
You’re holding yourself back for now, placing the water and two tablets of aspirin on the dresser, lean your shoulder to the door frame - inhaling and exhaling quietly to not make her realize you were still in the room.
She doesn’t stop her fingers from dipping inside her leaking slit, wagging it across her folds with every passing shudder of her breathing, sinking it back in soon two digits at a time. Debauched, impure, sinful; you could go through the list of your lexicon to describe this present moment and still won’t give an explanation as to why you can’t look away. You watch as her eyes wander, flickering when she looks down and plop her head back on the pillow when the finger curl rubs at a sensitive spot.
And it’s almost instinctual, close to second nature: your hand tugging your dick out, paying close attention to how the slenderness of her hand widely spreading her pussy folds. How Kazuha wished her own hand was a dildo or a vibrator or your cock - they won’t stretch in the way she imagines it.
The third finger she inserted was a good try, you’ll give her that. You can’t help but be enamored.
Suddenly, she’s switching out names. First, your name and then Yunjin’s. That’s a new piece of information you’ll save for later. Ignoring the question of how weird because this was already fucking insane as it is; you’re slowly pumping your shaft in time with her upward thrusts, grip your shaft to mimic the pressure and emulate how the skin would be coated in her soaking wetness, listening closely to the squelching getting louder and louder it seems.
Kazuha’s legs are flush against the mattress, as far as she could get them. She’s flexible enough to do it, opening up more room for her other hand to get a fill of her desperate cunt. A sweet view. You’re lucky to have witnessed it in real time.
Shit, you’re silently cursing to yourself. Wishing that you would’ve abstained in committing such a wicked act.
But you keep pumping, delusion plaguing your mind. You’re lost in the sights, the sounds, her face wobbling to more rapturous, tucking her hand and tilting her hips like those other guys have done to her, the heat tugging them tightly - God, she doesn’t let up with the lovely moaning.
“Mmm, yes, right there-”
Seeing Kazuha like this feels undeserved.
“Please, please-”
“What is it. Kazuha? Want some help there?” You ask mindlessly, slipping out of your sweats some more to open up your legs.
And when she says your name again: “I need you here with me.”
“I’m not far,” you answer, gaze crestfallen and wistful.
You lower your guard when the rush of euphoria begins to spread within. The sensation of jerking yourself had the capacity to wear you out just how you wanted. Because of this, when you eventually look back up, you can see the glint of watered eyes watch across from you - in between the valley of her breasts, toned legs and reddened knees. “Look at you, so handsome,” she says, hand circling her clit faster. Harder. Fingers increasing in pace to match your strokes rather than the other way around.
“Fuck, you look so good-” you grunt with buckling knees. A familiar, aching tension in your stomach, the pin rising to the peak in your balls. The wonders of having a pretty best friend.
“Yeah?” she murmurs. “Like this? My pussy out wide open for you? Why don’t you walk back here and plug it up?”
“Would feel-” Kazuha wheezes, a relieving proposition. “Even better, with you.” She says it like it’s some forbidden truth.
In an alternate reality, she’d be right.
“Think so?” Jesus fucking christ, you’ve lost it. In the current affair, this is all that mattered. “You’d prefer my dick to split your guts up instead of your fingers?”
“God, yes.”
“Want me to take care of that pretty little cunt of yours?”
Kazuha sighs once more, confirming the question for you. It didn’t take much to work her up in general; if you didn’t have the remaining ounces of common sense, you could’ve dropped your pants right at the door and get even more dirty with the arousal pouring relentlessly out of her stuffed hole. It wouldn’t be a bad idea right? Cleaning up her mess with your hands, your mouth, gurgle down the endless stream of her pussy where there’d be multiple threads dripping down her legs. Fucking hell, you really could if you wanted to.
Though you don’t move a single muscle besides your hand.
“C’mon, more. Just a little more,” she groans, breath hitching every other second. You can feel the air get tighter, the vibrations in your throat tremoring along with every tense fiber of muscle. Coming down to a fine point, overtaking you.
You’re just as shameless as her.
The piercing wail of your name off her lips sounds broken, eyes clenched shut when you finally fall off that peak. You cum all over your fingers, spurting and smearing across the skin - fuck, it comes in a panic when some of it spills on the hardwood, but you could care less since it blends in well with the color. How you managed to remain standing from your high was a mystery, knees bending forward while the twitching continued to pass.
Kazuha tenses her body from the erratic movement of her chest, struggling to calm down from her orgasm. Through your sated, lidded eyes, you watch her frame relax, head falling over to the side, hand plopping over to the edge like someone shot a bullet through her on the spot.
“Kazuha.” You huff, hoping for a response. “Kazuha?”
Yep, she’s knocked out.
You take a minute or two to return to your senses, looking back at Kazuha’s body to ensure she was fast asleep. Staring at the gentle shift of her arm cuddling the pillow she just rode on, you found it best to let her deal with the clean up later in the morning when she’s fully sobered up.
A really big ‘if’ for later: her remembering everything she did from last night. You’re swearing that it doesn’t happen - hoping you don’t breathe a word of what you’ve seen or did.
(It would be a huge problem on your hands, and an even worse one if it becomes hers.)
Fuck, she would be mortified.
–
“You look like shit,” Yunjin tells you later that morning, chin perched up and eyes squinted. “Didn’t you and Kazuha come back together 30 minutes later?”
“Something like that,” you sigh, giving up the effort in holding back your yawn. “Slow mornings are always harder than the actual day.”
“Hangovers are never kind.”
You shrug. “Some of us can handle it better than others.”
Right on cue, you and Yunjin glance over to see a tired Kazuha sitting alone on one of the chairs near the kitchen. Her hoodie is up and both hands are on her face to hide the subtle cough. She looks like she could sleep for another eight hours after breakfast, and it most definitely could happen. The plate in front of her is cleaned off: holding the knife and fork, coated with syrup and clearly ran through.
Yunjin gives you a look, probably along the lines of: ‘are you sure nothing bad happened to her?’
You purse your lips and open the fridge, with a cold water bottle now in your hand.
From then on it’s a silent exchange: Yunjin walking over to Kazuha and caressing the back of her head, Kazuha looking and nodding to let her know she’s alright before going on with the rest of her unproductive day.
As for your part: you slide the bottle over to her with two more tablets of aspirin for her to take. For insurance, you insist. She’s someone you know very well who can’t function properly unless there’s some sort of responsible figure who can facilitate and keep an eye on her condition.
It isn’t like her to be awfully quiet at times, so you fill in that role of the opposite as needed.
“How’s your head?” You ask, voice lowered that you don’t scare the poor girl. “Gotta say, I’m jealous you got better sleep than me for once.”
Kazuha leans back on the chair with her eyes trained on you. The occasional beep of the smoke detector above goes on for a few seconds when you see the tip of her tongue peek out and runs it along her teeth, contemplating.
“Better,” she says. Her first words of the day. A small win. “Thank you.”
You nod in approval, poking her forehead for some fun. “Great. No going out for you today. Not until you’re back to normal. You know the rules.”
The gentle clatter of the silverware along the plate compliments the soft scuffle of your feet along the floor. You’re not thinking too much about what happened last night, drawing up the conclusions that it was a one-time thing. Anything beyond that reason would bring in plausible deniability.
But you carry on with the simple house chore with Kazuha unknowingly staring from behind: biting her lip.
–
Ironic about the unproductive day, you do everything but that.
Emails, papers, evaluations, your endless editing of the resume, the Spoitfy window with the classical music playlist, all of it eats up the time. With the occasional step out to grab some food or a cup of water - or maybe Yunjin piggybacking you as an attempt to get you away from the desk-
“I know you big baby,” you wheeze, feeling Yunjin’s nose against the nape of your neck, “Just let me finish one more thing and then we can do something. Promise.”
“You said that last time,” she groans, corralling her arms tighter on your shoulders, toes barely touching the floor, “Maybe I should change the password to your desktop so you don’t go to it first thing in the morning. It’s a dangerous addiction.”
“It’s called a routine,” you rebuke.
“I know your password,” argues Yunjin.
“Might have to change it again.”
She gets off when you settle back in the office chair, her arms still wrapped and pressing her lips on to your cheek, making you giggle at the sudden assault of touches. To her defense, they’re pretty effective - her way of swaying you to lose your concentration. You don’t think twice when she forces you to put down the phone before lunch or dinner, or when you’re out with friends and she thinks it would be a great idea to send you nudes knowing very well that it’s not meant to be seen publicly. Her hair starts to pool over your front, smelling like apple rose and aloe. “So you’re saying it’s not ‘huhyun108’? Are you serious?” And she’s got you all figured out - the many angles of pressure points to slowly give in towards. Picking and choosing her battles carefully, but you don’t go down from a fight that easily.
“Gonna change it now, actually,” you say, fast tapping on the keyboard. “Find it best for you not to look.”
Yunjin cackles as you’re pushing her face away, pulling the chair along with you.
–
Yunjin doesn’t have to do too much: all it takes is one breath and a few sly words and she gets what she wants.
She’s adamant with what’s hers: lipstick mark on your neck? That’s Yunjin. Her white scrunchie on deck at your wrist for when she can’t deal with her hair? Also Yunjin - supplying to the demand was always her kind of thing.
It’s midweek, at the point in the day where things get stagnant and there isn’t anything of interest to note, the usual grace period where the thought of doing nothing is considered the best option. Yunjin keeps watching that same netflix series, dissatisfied with how the current season played out. To compensate: she rewatches the second season for the sixth time and her key point was the fact the two most popular contestants really hit it off, but never got together.
That wasn’t the main concern, however.
“She hasn’t been out of her room since yesterday,” Yunjin pouts, long legs stacked on top of yours and restraining. “I’m getting a little worried.”
“I saw her go to the kitchen and back earlier,” you inform, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “She did have that pilates session around lunch. You know Zuha, and her cardio.”
“That door’s been shut a little too long,” she mumbles, not entirely ruling out your observation. “I know that there’s the unspoken rule for privacy, but I’m genuinely curious what the girl’s been up to. She seems a bit-”
“Closed off?” You fill in, completing the train of thought. “You may be right with that.”
“Mmm,” Yunjin agrees.
“Wait it out some more, then we’ll see what happens.”
–
(You wonder a bit too much, and get caught off guard as a consequence.
You haven’t moved from the couch, with Yunjin fast asleep at your side. The position so comfortable, you could honestly pass out here and wake up eons later - a tempting idea to entertain, and a plausible action to consider.
Kazuha appears from the hallway, rubbing the tiredness off from her three hour nap. A bit bizarre to nap past 8 PM, but that’s her thing. Her shirt is so baggy that it covers some of her thighs, toes spread on the floor before she continues to make headway to the fridge. Hair frizzled in messy waves and moving gently in every step.
So you initiate first, “Hey,” and you layer that with a lean back of the head of the couch so she can see you better in the dim light. “Everything good?”
Kazuha twists her body towards your voice, gaze stoic and quiet, fingers twisting the bottle cap open and fiddling it around. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”
“Good to know,” and your words come casual. Unbothered. As if you heard enough to carry on and leave her be, aware that she’s able to interact again. “Happy to hear your voice, like alive- or something.”
She doesn’t know you can hear her snort from the couch.
“But you are okay, right?” You ask again. Kazuha’s backside twisting once more to face you, blinking carefully. Her expression shifts to something more misty, unclear. All she gives is a nod and hum. Doesn’t say anything after.
At least she tells you that much.)
–
Okay, it’s probably bad that you’re keeping an eye on Kazuha - reserving a spot in your head to revisit that night over and over. Maybe it means something, or it doesn’t.
It really, really shouldn’t. Like at all. But the recurring thought fills your mind at some point between the passing days.
“I’m heading out now.” Kazuha says to you sweeping through the kitchen, bag in hand and behind Yunjin. “Won’t be back until later probably.”
“Where are you headed this time?” Yunjin leans over, resting her head.
“Sakura called me to be her muse for her fashion portfolio. Said I fit the profile with the outfits she has in mind. Girl can crochet, but clothes? She has a really good fucking talent for them. I can see her go places.”
“That’s our Saki,” Yunjin muses, hand up for Kazuha to acknowledge before making her way around the kitchen island, causing you to turn about face. She isn’t going to confront you about that (for God’s sake, you can’t stop thinking about it anyway), but rather stare you down because it’s the usual thing with her.
It’s a little intimidating that she’s almost your height, with a body well maintained she could go twelve rounds if she wanted. Yunjin watches as Kazuha squints her eyes - works through the fridge for another cold bottle with her gaze trained on you. You and her exchange eyebrow expressions and read into the message through your eyes, Kazuha tilting her chin then breaking eye contact as you twist the other cheek. Next thing you know, her hand smacks your ass.
“The fuck was that for?” You groan, clearly offended. “You’re the one who wanted the face-off.”
“For being a dickhead,” Kazuha says with no color in her voice. “Also, thanks for saving me at the party while Sakura was getting railed outside. I owe you one.”
“Amazing how you say things like that so casually,” you muse, cocking your head. “You’re welcome, I suppose.”
Kazuha then flashes a look back with her hands now in the pocket of her hoodie. You can’t help but glance over to the defined frame of her face, the slope of her nose, her lack of makeup knowing very well that she’ll get a touch up from Sakura before the lookbook photoshoot. She’s painting a false picture with those baggy clothes she wears on a daily basis, but you and Yunjin are waiting to see the photos once they’re done.
“Yunjin,” she says.
“Hm?” Yunjin hums with food in her mouth.
“Did I ever tell you about his decent looking face?” Kazuha concludes, tilting her head side to side for better angles. “Still a dickhead, though.”
“Ha. Thanks.”
She points her lips at you, a quirk of hers that she made as her habit. Her hand goes up in lieu of a goodbye and slides past the wall.
–
“It’s hilarious because,” Yunjin catches herself mid snort, hand hiding her mouth, “The way they say Jurassic World is so funny to me. And the guy repeats it as ‘Jorassic Wurold’ like- the pronunciation is slightly off when he asks her about the movie.”
You test the wording with your own mouth but emphasize on the syllables, trying to emulate what she observed from watching the other day. It distracts you from the assortment of ingredients spread out on the cutting table, falling into Yunjin’s shenanigans was always the daily driver no matter what the mood was on the hour.
Midway through slicing some meats, you’re still practicing the wording on your lips. “Y’know, english is not everyone’s strong suit,” you tell her, portions set aside for some vegetables, leaning the other way to get a better view of your fingers, rolled up and not in the blade’s way, “gotta commend him keeping the conversation going. That takes effort.”
Yunjin tilts the cup into her face, nodding in agreement; she’s got her legs crossed off the counter, feet pointed up when you glance back to see a hinted eyebrow. Bare face and long lashes fluttering - a light blush on her cheeks as she leans back and puts the bottom of the beverage upwards.
She smacks her lips soon after, licking her teeth. “He was really into her, you saw it too.”
The metal blade clacks against the wood. “Huh?”
“Don’t ‘huh’ me. You know who.”
“Dex?”
“Dex,” she repeats, pointing the empty cup in your direction.
“I saw it happening, don’t worry,” you say, attention drawn back to the chopped up greens now being placed into a bowl. “Part of me was convinced that they would be together when they met from the get-go.”
For a quick fill-in: it hasn’t been that long since Kazuha went out, a little over thirty to forty-five minutes at most. In that time, you and Yunjin managed to get through a third of a series she picked at random before she started to get more touchy with you. Like the good boyfriend you are - ready at every beck and call, you oblige. Yunjin swung both of her legs onto the seat of the couch, easing into the slow graze of your hands on her thigh, hand cupping her hips and raising the arch in her back when she felt the hard press of your hips against hers. She hates it when it comes to the teasing, but she’s actually a hypocrite on the fact that she does it all the time when you have your legs spread either sitting or laying down; when your brains are fucked into oblivion while she’s on top, bouncing on your balls without a care in the world for damage control. But you broke her brain a little when you grinded into her clothed cunt for fifteen minutes until one of your guys’ stomachs grumbled which put everything on hold for now.
(There’s always a red herring to be said. For this one in particular, you coined it as: “gotta have that fuel for later, especially if we’re going for more than two rounds.”)
“Thought so too,” says Yunjin, projecting her own insights when she lets herself down from the polished marble, setting her bearings headway towards you, tending to the ingredients.
A pot gets put on top of the stove behind you, along with the chopped veggies. “Didn’t he also say that it was a bit late for him to pursue her?” You ask, twisting the dial until the clicking sets the burner to life, gaze locked on Yunjin who stops an inch away. “Something about not being a reliability because of what she’s doing for her career?”
“Somewhere along those lines, the gap wasn’t too bad either, five years if I recall,” Yunjin supplies, unsure.
“She was a neuro major, Yunjin.”
“So?”
“Dex has his own thing going too, doesn't he?”
“If you really think about it, I thought it could’ve worked between the two. Yes, he was into her. He was also very amazed with what she was doing with her life. Not to mention the fact that these two clicked the moment he entered the competition as the wild card compared to the other guys. Oh, and that bombshell reveal that she was attending Harvard? Literally gagged the hosts when it first happened. Don’t forget that she was attracted to him for a minute before nothing eventually came to be? I remember showing you the video of those two after the season aired and you can still see the chemistry in them. Some people say that it wouldn’t work out since the scenario is long-distance, but the mother approved of the guy for crying out loud-” You grin and shake your head. Yunjin’s left completely baffled because of it. “-okay, I’m still a firm believer that those two are endgame. That’s my point. I have evidence and a solid reason to back it up. Go ahead, try and test me.”
“No, I hear you.” You reel her in for a hug while her hands are on her hips. “If it were me, I would’ve thought long and hard about making a big commitment like that.”
Yunjin sighs, hands sliding up your back. “I know. I really liked their vibe together.”
Your hands get full of her ass, beneath the fabric of her shirt, laying prints in the mix of skin and threads. Yunjin puts her arms around your neck loosely, stacked and hanging with the slightest pull from her elbows. It’s in the most innocent of pretense, the suggestion heavily implied without the use of words at all. She leans up while you tilt down, meeting in the middle for that overdue relapse of addiction: the lips. She sighs, teeth claiming your mouth as her own, pulling the lovely part of flesh that makes you want to hear those familiar octaves as her body crumbles from the greediness and weight of your touch.
Every kiss feels like a swan song; the desire of never letting go, press your face deeper into hers, leave a mark on the refreshed canvas waiting to be painted in inspiration and curated for no one else in the world to see. You’re aware that she’s willing to incite change, create something new, get in the right mindset of a familiar avenue in your head where there’s nothing but desperation. It’s in how her fingers rake through your hair, weave down your waist, to your hips, close to the spot where she wants to bring you out the most.
Think of it as her picking up where she left off on the couch. You could’ve done it right then and there, but you didn’t.
“Should’ve thought long and hard about earlier, right?” Yunjin teases, half-drunk already with her slack lips.
“There’s a reason why I set you on the counter in the first place,” you huff, pushing her body past the stove, pinning her against the drawer. “Because of this. I know you, Yunjin.” You then lift her back up to the spot where she started, height difference elevated by a mere few inches. The top of her forehead rests on yours.
“Such a buzzkill,” she concedes, pouting her heart away like it doesn’t do anything to you. Arms holding you hostage as you try to break free from her grasp. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some kisses around here?”
“Not a lot,” you offer.
“Says the person who’s trying to get rid of me.” She doubles down, ankles to your backside and limits the movement. Her exhale is satirical, hoping you’ll dish out the punishment.
“Your stomach thinks otherwise.” You declare. Pushing her legs apart and retreating. You look over to the kitchen for anything within reach, and settle for an apple. You further the distance between Yunjin to grab it, toss it over as she catches it effortlessly - bites down the fruit in defeat, satiating the cravings. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
(She would much rather have your lips again or even your cock. The fire’s already started, and the water begins to boil.)
The space feels so far between you two, yet so small. Yunjin holds the apple with her teeth, watches you round the corner of the counter - sees your eyes dart to an open box, the bundle of pasta in the plastic, a knife- something to divert your attention for the time being while you’re forming a strategy in your head - a game plan as to how you’ll deal with her tonight.
You see: you think you know Yunjin, every part of her body and mind, inside and out.
She debunks the theory right out of the gate. In a million ways you can’t wrap your head around.
All she does is straighten her posture, spreads her legs across the glossy wood, and lifts up the fabric past her hips.
There’s nothing fucking underneath. Just sweet, smooth thighs and her pretty pink glistening pussy lips.
It gets your mind racing in confusion:
“Since when did you-” you’re taken aback, torn from being half-shocked and not-so surprised, also doubling down on the fact she definitely had panties on beneath that shirt. “Didn’t you have something there just a few minutes ago?”
Yunjin is a master of her art, the trickery in the highest rank imaginable. You envy her intellect at times - her charms, the ways that she can make you speechless just by being herself. This very girl within the walls of your home she claimed as hers, who managed to seep into the nooks of your brain, poisoning you from within until you can’t go for a second longer without wanting to see her gorgeous face, hear her voice; feel her pull you down back to earth while also sending you straight to heaven. None of it really makes sense with her, nor is supposed to. You could go through multiple lifetimes in the existence of the universe and she’ll still find a way to be in all of them.
Though, she doesn’t give you any chance of solitude with your thoughts. She raises her right hand behind her back, middle and ring finger holding the nylon as her admission of guilt.
It earns her a small shake of your head, disappointed and impressed in the same moment.
“Sleight of hand, mister,” she tuts, victorious. Her thumb then grazes against the nylon before falling into its fated purgatory of the floor below. She catches you zoning out, doing two loud clicks of her tongue to keep your eyes on the prize. “My eyes are up here, by the way.”
“Where did you think I was looking?”
“Probably at something that matters.”
“And that is?”
“Fuck if I know- oh wait, I do know. You’re just not doing anything about it.”
“Want me to proclaim it out loud?” You inquire, sardonically - as if you were willing to play along with her little game of pragmatics, read into the lines of a script and catch the nuances of a hidden message past the sentences. “State the obvious since the naivety is starting to become unbearable for you?”
“I never said that,” Yunjin rebukes. Hand sliding down to her legs - those dainty fingers having their own fun.
And you begin your endeavor back to her. One graciously little step at a time.
Your ears tick at the sudden hitch of breath, muffled by the apple blocking her mouth. It’s on purpose. God help her. She curls her fingertips at the first dip inside her cunt the more you glide over the floor. The weight of your feet becomes less heavier and lighter in every move. Yunjin’s head bumps the cabinet, hips tensing at the rush of her fingers sliding across her folds. She won’t fuck herself like this. No- she would prefer to have you deal the actual blows to her body when you’ve finally decided enough is enough. We’re getting there, don’t worry. Just. A little. Push.
She finally lets the apple go from her mouth, off to where it’ll most likely be disregarded into the sink or the trash. You can’t stop the constant twitching your hands are doing; so while the pathway is clear, you take into account of the bubbling pot next to you, putting a lid on to make the gurgling much more muted, zero in on the vibrations rumbling in Yunjin’s throat, focus on the rise of her chest.
Her head drops and to the side, the pull of fabric molding to her figure. Emphasizing on the curves of her waist, those mounds, the present appearance of her hard nipples. The implications clear as day in the form of a seductive summoning.
But you start slowly: a hand to her knee, then the other. Anticipation is killing you both.
Landfall.
“What am I gonna do with you?” You sigh, looking down at the sight of Yunjin touching herself, thick air being expelled from your lungs, wiping your inner self clean before repurposing to acclimate the need of getting dirty again.
Yunjin pulls a lazy grin, beautifully - and leans back while her hips slips forward. Her grip guides your wrists over her skin, shirt hiked up past her waist and into her hips by the second. “You don’t have to say or do if you want to.” She offers, but that’s the setup. “Just wisely biding your time.”
Not much of it has changed, the way you willingly sink down to your knees. You’re romantic about it - deserves a smirk for the appreciation. You glance up to her toffee shaded eyes, fingers rotating to hook firm on the peak of her thighs, extend your arms up high like she’s some sacred treasure, proffering. “Darling,” and the singular word sets the rest of the testament into place, the burgeoning intention of her demise at your hands. You think back to a week ago: where she found herself in the familiar pecking order, back on the linoleum with her elbow as faulty support, splitting her open and feel her body go limp when you made her cum like she suggested. Your mouth freezes with a gasp when you look closely at her seeping slit, heart stopped as you examine in awe. “I’ll have all the time in the world,” you mumble - or what’s close, honestly - into the plush surface of her thighs, brush your lips down a familiar path you know very well. “But you, gotta slowly show me you deserve it.”
Her breath hitches again, hesitating. Nerves seizing muscle right where they are.
“At this rate we’ll be here all night,” she hums, eyes torn from gazing down and spacing out to something in the distance. “Not that I mind, of course, but-” she then nibbles on her lip at the feeling of yours on her legs, deluded and washed over with lust to forget about everything else, “dinner’s still on the cards, yes?”
“Pick up that apple. You eat while I eat, how bout that?” You propose the solution. One which Yunjin can’t ignore.
She reaches for the apple and stares into the yellow crater, taking another bite. Cheeks full of fruity bits. “I could get used to this,” her jaw trembling and breath spilling out in a shudder. “Wouldn’t you rather hear-”
Her neck loosens at the swipe of your tongue over her folds, apple tossed off to the side one more likely never to be eaten again. She leaks out a little more slick for you to clean up, and it’s delightful. Yunjin fancies the idea of scooting her hips forward, thighs hanging out and barely her ass on the counter, providing you more space to work with when your arms hook around the swell of her ass and pull her closer, hand quick to the crease of her knee to put her heel on your collarbone and takes her fingers into your hair, spread one side of her folds and dip your tongue in some more, consuming the warmth down your throat and eat her out alive.
“Honey,” you proclaim with an arch to your eyebrow, breathless, “You’re fucking leaking.”
Yunjin pulls this devilish grin, yanks your head back a little further back for you to look up, face twisted with madness. Staring deep into your soul, insatiable. “Your turn to eat, baby.”
Very few people can play your game, but Yunjin was a whirlwind full of surprises. Each one more shocking than the last.
“What’s wrong? Speechless?” she asks, but doesn’t give you a second to respond when she reels your head back in.
So you put your mouth back what’s rightfully yours: press your tongue into her aching cunt and save the words for later.
You hear her wince, picturing the pained expression in the creased eyebrows, eyes closed shut, jaw hung low. She grinds your face deeper, much deeper to the point where she’s needy enough to feel the light graze of your teeth.
You slide your fingers into her, unfazed when her knees close your head in, giving you no chance to breathe. Her pants increase in pace, falling apart just a few inches above you. The sounds are absolutely wonderful, blessing you with the harmonious repertoire of moaning spilling out of her mouth - lapping up the wetness at the curl of your finger, cleaning up the salty sweetness of her arousal, slick spread across skin and the sensitive response of her clawing hand into your hair.
Yunjin’s hair starts to pool over the front of her face, the sight alone is a delight in itself. The ripped collar showing more of her pale shoulder, handfuls of the shirt now undone as her other hand joins the fray on your head, body clenching and relaxing - unsure on which choice is the right one. You and her both listen in to the soft licks and wet smacks of skin and folds, hear her giggle in relief until your nose brushes up against her clit, throbbing core given a quick second of grace before you dive back in and don’t spare a chance for her to breathe. She asked for this, and you expect her to handle it as best she can. Until she’s whimpering and desperate and begging to be more useful than just your mouth and hands. Till she has to say the very words herself in what she wants, while her frame trembles delicately.
More, more. The boiling pot next to you starts to bubble past the cover, droplets of water hitting the grill and sizzling. You push your tongue in deeper, get the gloss over your lips, pull her folds apart wider and hit the same spot where it kills her over and over, notice the curl of her toes into your shirt, dig her heel deep into the threads. Yunjin bites down her teeth, hand to her breast and gripping tightly. The bubbles start to lift the lid, popping.
“Can you - be - even more - god, holy fuck-” she spits, words stuttering as her hips slide out over the edge, prompting you to hold her high, drop your jaw even more, kiss and suck the untouched areas and spread her legs. She gasps. “Baby,” she laughs even louder, slapping her palm down on the countertop, “God, I can’t believe-”
She rucks her hips upward, mimicking a thrust. Your head fades out the rest of the outside noise.
“-you, of all people-” And a moan pierces your ears, the sound heavenly. Yunjin’s hand palms the back of your head as you start to alternate an up and down motion. Her high imminent, in the curl of your knuckle and lick of your tongue pushing her closer to that pedestal. You push and pull, let the grip of her fingers guide you to the spots where she needs it. Her way of life: the taste of her; warm and addicting. “Fuck, s-shit, there- there! Right there-”
You open your mouth even more, drinking her mess until she has you drowning in it. Her swollen cunt’s quivering. You can’t help yourself but smile.
“Need your mouth, your tongue- your- fuck-”
You’re happily swimming.
It’s even better when her chest is puffed up, back arched. At a loss for words and just straight up gone. You hold her down as she’s shaking and suck her pussy for your own benefit - devouring her relentlessly, voice broken to a shriek as her juices gush around your tongue and fingers, groaning lowly while you carry on licking the mix of plush-soaked skin, feel the lingering effects of her orgasm leave her body with a harsh pull of her clit on your lips.
She’s trying everything to calm down, head lightly tapping the cabinet behind her. Clawed fingers releasing their grasp as you help yourself up, legs loosely wrapped around yours and posture reduced to a slouch. “Hate you, by the way. I hate you the way that you are.” She tells you, arms barely placed on your shoulders, slipping. “Why do you have to be so good at being a douche?”
“Don’t follow your point,” you dart back with a sigh. Height restored and hands back to where they started: on her knees; you cock your head to the right, get a closer look at Yunjin’s messy hair, rumpled shirt, thighs glistening and pink-
She smacks the side of your neck, earning a pitiful laugh. You’re aware that she loves these kinds of treatments: the kind of treatment where you want her to tenderly run her hand down your face, whisper in your ear of all the things she wants you to do, sliding deep into her cunt and let the heat consume you, wanting - you’ve got get a grip, seriously. She has your head spiraling and somehow you always come out on top of it; the usual bouts where the victor has already been decided. “One day, you’ll see what I mean.”
“I have a hard time understanding you and Kazuha as it is,” mouth agape, bearing no mind to the act she’s trying to pull. Unpredictability was one of Yunjin’s strong suits and that was no surprise: peeling her shirt off over her shoulders and lifting the veil hiding the endless curves of her body - the slutty little waist, long thighs, her breasts-
“Maybe I can help you with that,” she offers, lacking judgement. Her hand slips underneath your sweats, fingers taking hold of your cock, confirming her suspicions. Your mouths meet once again, sloppily, you giving leeway after eating out her cunt and in return she has you twitching. “Goodness me,” she mutters into the warmth of your mouth, tempted, rubbing that effect on you. “I bet you’re just dying to stick this inside of me already.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Or what-” she grins lazily.
You grasp the skin a little bit tightly as your other hand cups her cunt, the heel of your palm digging into her clit.
“-fuck, that’s what you meant,” her voice diminishing with lidded eyes.
You then quickly take into account the small funnel of air blowing from the cover; the whirr of the vent above coming to life.
Yunjin scoots herself over the counter, sees you tug your cock out of pants, lip to teeth as it gently touches her skin. It’s all part of the pecking order, how things build up high to eventually fall - second nature, muscle memory, all the same.
She’s got her arms and legs around you, inching her hips forward to speed up the process, hopeful in you wrecking her body as always: “You know, not talking isn’t gonna get you everywhere if you don’t do it,” she goes on, no care for your fidgeting hands rubbing up and down her thighs.
“What the hell is this, a silent treatment?” she asks again, impatience starting to get to her. “C’mon, say something.”
You serve her anything but that, slicking your fingers with her cum and tap the pads into her skin, gently feeling her sensitive clit to make her lose her train of thought. She’s incessant, but it’s rare for her to be less on the offensive in pressing you for once, so you’ll take full advantage of it.
“What do you want me to say? I’ve already told you about my observations,” you answer, digits sliding in her cunt and the girl just nods. She’ll notice but still talk out of her ass, since she loves the thrill. Her accompanying grin along with the lip bite and wink sells the whole image, leans you in with the shirt wrapped around your neck, pulling. The small twinge of romance attached.
The shirt then crumples on the floor when she lets go.
“That I’m fucking leaking? You sucked me clean, I can barely feel my legs.”
“Right,” you laugh, working her face some more until her hands go languid.
Her look goes curt, dismissive. Lashes fluttering in every blink because that’s the second best thing she has in her bag of tricks, aware of the double-edgedness it ensues. She inhales sharply, quick, sudden, bracing the tip of your cock sliding across her folds. “How long has it been since you last fucked me? Yesterday? Two days ago? Finally having your fun since I sucked you off last time, hm?”
“I don’t need to answer that,” you rebuke. “There’s no point to it.” Is the everlasting conclusion.
She cocks her head to the left. Elbow holding her up in the best way she can, arching her back again, your cock in position at her awaiting entrance, cup your fingers into her hip. “Don’t blame me for killing you this time.”
Her face steadies, frozen. Then: the lines of her face warble, mouth dropping. Cunt inviting your tip pressing in.
“Like I ever would,” she scoffs, right hand to the back of your neck, clinging. “This is what I wanted, remember?”
(The way that she’s spread, heel hooking to your knee, she’s stripped and defenseless against you. It’s the guilty pleasure you have as her pussy accommodates you, all wet and inviting that it won’t be a struggle to fit in one seamless push. Regardless: that part alone makes sense.)
“Question is,” you murmur during the break of eye contact, staring lower at the view of your cock finally slips inside and see the quick contraction of her stomach - like she was ready to take a punch to the gut - glancing back up and watch her eyelids flutter at the feeling. “You can’t do anything in this situation, can you?” This girl just came in your mouth a few minutes ago but she’s takes you in with no problem: filling every inch of you in a beautifully fucked up missing piece that she’s constantly deprived of every time. You dig your fingers deep into the skin, stop halfway, then continue to wrench out every inch of her walls.
“God,” Yunjin grits, breath seething in the gaps of her teeth, brows furrowed. “Go to- fuck-”
She doesn’t even finish the sentence when you push further. Replaced with a moan instead; her cheeks and nose wrinkle, fingers balled up to a fist behind and her elbow shaking. Her head barely keeping herself together with the cabinet as a last support, failing terribly.
You stop your movements because the lines on her face are forming toward a familiarity: nervous, dazed, hesitant. A quick twitch of your head negates all of those thoughts away and instead focuses on ramming your hips into her, the clash of skin rippling through you and her both.
It’s the bravado that she carries, the playfulness, her shift of her sly words, withering and fading at the amount of you: she’s fighting every fiber of muscle to sputter out her needs, though the sweat and slick spread out over body make up in the defilement of her undoing. You can see through her bullshit, and all she sees is the glide of your shaft back into her pussy - the width of you stretching so effortlessly her body forms a jagged line along the frame, mewling and bucking forward. Your fingers hold her hips still, drag your cock along the tightness, fill her up until she says otherwise.
“Makes no sense,” Yunjin huffs, gasping, head halfway in the gutter, trying to form a point. Her hands try to carry out her words, clinging, cock-full at the lean up, foreheads clashing. She whines into your skin, “Jesus- holy shit, dear fucking Christ-”
You’ll swallow her words and understand her completely.
Well- to say that her hot cunt is incredible would suffice so much. The more you push, the more the connection feels like it’s meant to be, in all the filth and the intimacy that’s thrown without thinking of the repercussions after.
You’ll give your praises and thanks - how her pussy grips around your cock so snug and tight and perfect, sing it into the skin and walls around you, paint it over as many times you’d like. To have a girl like her: a muse, with the desire and hunger impossible to resist, make you sink deeper and deeper where it won’t feel suffocating.
“Yeah?” you hear yourself say. Like you needed to explain yourself again. “Wouldn’t you know it.”
The strokes. You’re fucking up into her so nicely, give her no chance to breathe, legs hooked around your thighs. She’s opening up her body to you - you’re marking your own territory: shower her face with kisses, suck the skin across her neck, slide your arms underneath her back and keep pounding at the one angle where the trembling reaches her throat, presses her tongue to the back row of her teeth.
Christ, you really have no care; roughing her up on the kitchen counter right before dinner time. The fan above you two continues to whirr the smoke in the air where it masks the bundle of moans and curses spewing out of her lips. You could feel her fingers drag across your back, keeping herself close to you, fearful that you’ll stop like earlier and make her beg for more until she has her fix.
“Baby, baby, holy fuck,” you follow her voice, brushed up against your ear, sift your eyes back onto her and watch her loose mouth. She swallows, grazing the crown of her head to yours. “This cock, I fucking love it. I fucking love it so much, I could die here with how you’re-”
You shut her up, meet in the middle. Line up the beating of your heart to the move of your hips, lock your arms around her back; she’ll come crawling for that high again, blinded by the guarantee of you forcing her orgasm later.
“Yunjin,” you grit. Nearing that inevitable crash-out. It’s a never ending cycle of madness. Her cunt is eating your cock alive, soaking your waist. You want it all.
You want her to cum again: this time on your cock; you want to carry her in her arms, fuck your cock without her feet touching the ground; you want her to scream your name so loudly that it breaks the windows around the house. You’ll never have enough of the indescribable body and feeling that she has, ruining you over and over - not to mention her mouth - that too, is another dangerous addiction.
A fair bout. The fight for who's bolder. Who can make the other person more vulgar by the second.
These things have been decided right from the start.
Yunjin muffles a whimper behind her lips, cock clogging up her cunt like she’s backing away, hiding.
“Need it, need it so fucking much,” she hushes. “You- your cock. Can never get enough of my pretty little cunt - fuck I should just let you fuck me all day, all night, whenever you feel like it.” Her voice is rasped, the words alone sinister: “Warm you up when you least expect it, yeah? You’d like that, don’t you-” She yelps, nose scrunching when you bottom out and press your groin up against her clit, stomach contracting and relaxing as if she’d done five minutes of planking.
So you drag out and thrust in - slam your hips into hers, holding the motion there, repeating it soon after. Her hand files up to the cabinet door above and shove your cock down to the hottest point, where the wobbles of her waist finally reach up to her tits.
Because that’s really the only thing there is to it. Brain fucked out to mush with the marks and glistening sweat spread across, remnants of what the short period has passed.
Like you can’t help yourself. It’s in the enamored looks, the pockets of air siphoned before it’s coughed out, in the blissful enjoyment of fucking your slick cock in and out. “Holy shit,” she’s saying, head toppled off and arm going limp. She saves the energy for other than talking - let the waves of pleasure sweep her body and have you project her thoughts out for her: delirious and maniacal. “I hear- yeah- Okay. Okay, you said it yourself.”
Of course she agrees, and she knows. Whittled down to the fine rawness of it. What else is there left to say?
She’s amazingly gorgeous and beautiful - a gift from God himself. You remind her every time like it’s the first. When her lips met the end of your cock months ago, blowing your world away, the stretch of her pussy swallowing you whole and the tension was undoubtedly abysmal. Another second passes a shared breath: Yunjin-god-fucking-dammit, and there’s a bunch of other shit that gets said, listless and nonsensical where the only thing left to do is let the blistering warmth and clashing tongues do all the work for the both of you.
It’s normal: the way that she clings like she hasn’t seen you for days - leaning back with an arch and quite literally her feet off the ground.
Every moan sounds punctuated lazily, whining and whimpering and in a pitch where she almost sounds scared.
Still, she’s lost the plot: “Fuck me.”
That’s where everything clicks, a flame extinguished and replaced for something new, something profound: her face clenches in the quick swap of pain to relief, when you’ve put your cock at a spot inside where she sobs; the pleasure so intense the both of you exhale in unison, almost like a ‘got you’ moment entirely.
“Honey,” you say against her cheek, fingers planted in the divot of her lower back, spreading her so well the motion is absolutely seamless, a perfect fit and pace to ruin. “Look at you, so lovely; this fucking cunt feels amazing; oh my goodness.” Your words are making sense, barely, but it’s always on this path since you’ve met the girl; you just can’t help yourself. “I adore this pussy a little too much, don’t you think?”
“So funny, ah-” she quips, a smile brandished across her lip, eyes rolling to the back of her head, holding on to the last bits of common sense left, knowing well there’s no point. “I’d let you, to be honest. A good deal: my pussy for your cock. Fair trade?”
“Fuck yes,” is what slips out of your mouth, a truth to savor for eternity. “Want it all.”
It goes both ways: she wants to peg complete bullshit to you, say her fantasies of how big of a slut she can actually be, fuck that snark out of her until she’s satisfied - but then you watch and listen to the more mundane things she does, and your head can’t comprehend it either. You want her, her mind, her body, the secrets that she keeps locked up in a box sunk in the bottom of a river; things that she doesn’t want anyone to find out about; where the dares of admission only comes once in a blue moon and she tries to pass it along in conversation.
You could make an endless list as to what makes Yunjin a treasure to behold, to keep - proclaim it out loud like you haven’t done so already - a collapsing, beautiful madness, honestly. She’s holding you so close and you can’t afford to let go. That’s just how it is. All it takes is one look into her eyes and you never want to leave.
“You’re amazing,” you say to her, breathless.
Yunjin’s lashes flutter shut immediately after. As if you had to tell her again and again.
Her hips stay still while yours continue to move, every aftershock sent through her body creates these ridges you’re proud of, ankles to the swell of your ass, clamping around your cock, grinding teeth with her voice croaking: “-good, so good, so fucking good, please, for the love of God-”
Her upper lip arches the more she inhales, mouth hung open as the moans crumble on top of each other. Most have complained about the increase in occupancy, the hollers of a drinking game, midnight conversations about relationship mishaps and failures, bassline of a song that reverberates on the drywall and the occasional shouting battles that usually ended up stopping after a few minutes. Your neighbors do hear the constant pounding at some point during the day, annoyed and fed up like they didn’t want to have the fun themselves, each thrust bouncing her where her breasts jiggle on the upstrokes, palm full of them, the feel firm and heavy; and you look at her face again - where a certain crease of skin, above her brow, and you know that she’s going to lose it over your cock, how her limbs will surrender willingly, reduced to mush and cradling the fuck through her.
Yunjin’s arm springs forward over your shoulder. You pull her up, sit upright, body bouncing with her ass well off the counter, the angle primed and ready where the shocks to her ass start to become a cushion, tits wobbling and hypnotic and bouncing; you keep- keep fucking her little hole with no regard for her life.
It’s right where she wants you to be.
You’ll lay your flowers later, if you’re even alive to tell the tale: how Yunjin is completely destroyed by your shaft. Her hair frazzled, eyes half open and head tilted towards shame and in the closest iteration of a cocksleeve it could get. She’s so fucked into oblivion where it’s worth having served the verdict. The last moments of light that you want to keep forever, stay as long as you can.
When her lips meet yours, sweeping: a part of you starts to break beneath the cracks.
She’s trying so hard to keep a hand to your waist, then the counter, but you’re holding with every bottom out at the base and you entertain the idea where you could go any deeper, fuck her harder-
“Just-” she pleads, into your mouth, right on your tongue. “Yours. All yours. Fuck me like it’s the only thing that matters-”
“Jen,” you groan out raggedly, lock your elbows to her chest, matching the drag of her nails.
“Gonna cum so much,” is what you think she says. “Look at you, such a good boy.” Her pointer finger grazes the line of your jaw. “Plugging me full, I know you love it,” she dryly laughs, lightly pinching your hip when she hears the hint of a squelch of your cock sliding back in her, “this big, fucking cock,” and she’s really not helping you in this situation, claiming you as her own, soul snatched with no hope of returning it: “Pumping and pumping until I can’t get enough. Fuck. You’re so good at this, so fucking naughty. Got you all hard and needy for me - pounding my poor little pussy just to set me right,” this girl is fucking demonic, with the stuff that she’s telling you, her body right there in your hands; you haven’t been thinking straight since you’ve gone down on her - that cunt, her pussy lips gliding your cock with her slick soaking you endlessly-
“Shut the fuck up,” is what you manage, a futile attempt to stop her. Like it would ever work at all. “Don’t do that. Don’t do this to me.” It’s impossible. You’re so easy to trick, gullible enough to fall for anything that comes out of her mouth, let her take the advantage and leave you with nothing at the end. She believes that you’ve had your fun, and the turn switches back to her.
“Or what?” Yunjin smiles, nearing bliss. “Wanna cum on me? In me? Use your words, baby boy.”
You swear, or something close to that.
The rush becomes too much to bear, the thought of doing what she exactly wants: pulling your cock out of her tight cunt and paint your load all over her stomach, or- the more addicting idea of burying your dick inside her so deep that your release has a one way trip - you simply just- can’t. You shouldn’t. Not because to play it safe, but you’re safeguarding the responsibility of the filthiness that comes with it - what you could do - what you’ve done to her. Instead, you should throw her onto the floor, on her knees, shove your cock down her dirty mouth and cum in her throat or on her face, watch her clean up the mess you’ve made, press the thick tip of your cock on her plump lips and have her taste the sweetness of you. Have her drink it down until she has those doe brown eyes of hers looking up in acceptance. She’s beautiful: in the most fucked up, soaking, ginger-haired possible way imaginable.
“Let- let me-” you sputter towards a growl, but you can’t keep up with her words and replace it with the pace - how her cunt fits your cock so well like a perfect shoe, lengthy frame detrimental to yours. “Fuck, just let me-”
“Mhm,” she hums, unfazed.
“Fuck this slutty little cunt of yours,” you finally manage, and more of a promise already written; you continue to fuck into her, snap your hips in where your balls start knocking above the pucker of her ass, working your cock along those velvety walls, feel the gush with every squeeze of muscle along her pussy, stretching amazingly with the clench.
“Keep going.” She prods at your waist.
Oh, she knows where this is going. It’s hot. It’s diabolical. It just feels right. You’re convinced that she’s figured you out, but playing dumb on purpose to see you admit it right in front of her. She sees the quick rise and fall of your chest - your shoulders, fingers grasping pale skin as it turns to something crimson, glance at the devilish smile she possesses that severs all the nerves in your brain: you are so fucking down bad for this woman, and you can’t do anything about it.
“Keep-”
“I know,” and you do.
“Love this. Love you. Love everything that’s happening,” says Yunjin, praising. “Tell me all the things- the things you want to do to me.”
“Sweetie,” you gasp at the next firm thrust, “gonna put my cock in your mouth, fuck your throat until you choke,” you snap, madness fully consmed, “fuck your holes full and then-”
Then what? Have her ask to pound her ass? Ride you? Make her scream with the doors wide open? What more could you say or do that isn’t in the cauldron of pure insanity-
“Use me more,” Yunjin sighs, and that’s the crystal clear thought pulled right out of your cock, “take me, grab wherever, I just need- god, your cum- want your cum so fucking much,” each word in that sentence rising an octave, “Cum,” a simple mantra, a demand. Yunjin’s creaming cunt, filling her up whole, you’re gonna burst inside and she’ll happily accept it as a gift, getting off on the sound ripping through your chest, hips bucking, legs tensing, her lower half quivers beneath you; attitude reduced to soft sounds, you taking full advantage with the fall-off imminent.
Some of these things, you can’t afford to think; fucked up as it is, it’s better to revel in the silliness and disregard the common sense.
“Oh fuck,” you hear her breathe, tone low and insanely turned on, her smile already showing she’s won. “Fuck yes-”
But even if you’re splitting her insides apart, a small fraction of control rests within you, feeling the curves of her body ripple, in a slowing rhythm, pound her cunt for one more second and finally give her the reward.
A rope of cum is all she gets on the inside; as for the rest-
“Yes- wait no, fuck- what are you doing?” Yunjin sounds completely in shock for what you’ve committed, snuff the flame out from her pulsing cunt, slide yourself out of the tightness, hold her leg up since she’s too weak to resist. You’re going to hell, but so is she. Painting all over the flat plane of her stomach, coating her pale skin with your cum. “You fucking bitch- that doesn’t belong there,” but she’s too fucked out to do anything about it, and you don’t even bother to dish out a good comeback, let the actions do the talking for you: “Put it back, please, please,” and you do as she says.
It’s a fresh feeling, the way her warmth envelops your soft cock, holding it so nicely as you help her sit back up properly. Mouth back on you instantaneously.
“I’m gonna get back at you,” is what she says against your grazing lips, brushing her cheek along the tip of your nose. Her nails lightly scratch your back, ruffles into your hair. “If you’re up for it, you’ll follow.”
“Challenging me? A bit crude, even for you,” you remark - she grins into your face, slides off the counter, fingers dancing along your slick, softening cock.
A familiar look in her eyes. Telling you, yeah, I know - underlying the surface, but she’s got her entire hand in every crook of your brain, unfaltering: “We’ll see.” Then she says, “Get your ass on the sofa.”
–
If there’s anything you learned about Yunjin: she never backs down from her word.
Oh- and your mouth’s formed in the way she wants it to be. You’ve got it all wrong there, too.
She tells you to keep your hands on the seat, at the sides and on the ready; impulsively, you want to pick up right where you left off from the kitchen, eyes locked between your legs, her head graciously bobbing up and down, vibrations all over the sensitive surface - feeling the pinching cramp in your backside, tensing the muscle, swallowing the opposite end of you with ease.
Her lips stop halfway when you raise your hand a bit too high for her liking.
“Fuck me, Yunjin,” you mutter, watching her sink your cock into her throat. “Don’t do that.”
Yunjin flashes a glare, flutters her eyelids shut, drags her head back up and gasps. Her mouth is one thing. Her hands? They show you no mercy. You’ve been in this scenario before - a lot of times for some quick context, so tonight isn’t any different. She’s working you tightly at your balls and the base, intending to wring you clean of the release you should’ve left inside her. The one-two punch killer enough to leave you paralyzed from the waist down; she runs her mouth on the tip, tongue tracing a vein and the underside, curling her fingers and stroking so delicately-
Yeah. You’re pretty much fucked like this. It’s a losing situation.
Your head falls back while your hips slide forward, turning your body over to her mouth which earns a moan in response. The look on her face is deadly, and the sounds ripping through your chest implicates your high not far to reach. Those fucking plump lips: well parted and sliding all over her spit, moving back up and sinking again, the suction a bit more forceful the second time around, cheeks puffing and hollowing, blinking dutifully.
She knows how badly you want to fuck her face, shove your cock into her mouth and expect a reward in return. Yunjin knows you want to get there, eventually, pulling herself off and twists your shaft, sees the tilt of your chin to the ceiling, relishing the submission.
“So fucking hard,” she grins, examining the mix of her spit and slick all over you, listening to the wet noises she created. “I can’t wait to taste your cum again.”
She’s too good for your own sake, and you can’t fight back on it.
“Be a good little toy and relax,” Yunjin instructs gently. Puckering her lips and slapping your sensitive head all over them. Soft. Lucious. Sinful. Her innocent blinks fail to cover it, nor the fact how pretty she looks with a pensive expression: it’s evil. “Let me take care of you, okay?”
You nod right away and she dives back down. Her tongue rubs around the tip between her lips, flattening to slide you into the softness and sleek feeling of her throat, bathing you with spit when your hips produce the slightest hitch. She’s had enough practice with you - to know how her tongue moves in all the ways she knows you love, easily bottoming the whole length like she has before, determined to hear you groan in rapture, and you do.
“Christ, Yunjin- baby-” you grit, and your head falls back to the head of the couch.
When she sucks, you flex your ankles forward. The mess worsens before it gets better, streams of drool leaking over your cock. She spreads it around with her mouth, her fingers, palm flattening, her lips fully sealed at the root, her nose digging into your waist. You’re amazed and how well she takes you, holding her head down for a few seconds - that’s the personal trial she set for herself: how long she could keep you there, the flex in her neck, gurgling and choking. It’s also dangerous in the fast switch up from the clamp of her throat to the alternating pace of her flushing your cock in and out, deepthroating you to the point where she can feel your whole body twitch. A pressure point, cutting the line until it’s completely severed.
You’re sucking so much air into your lungs, creating a pocket at your waist. She pops her mouth off the tip and has the audacity to cackle in your face.
She’s testing the endurance to it’s limit, her slick hands wrapped well around your shaft when she tends to your balls, getting mouthful of each one and peppering them with licks and kisses, hair pooling over your waist and to your thighs, knowing how good she as at fucking breaking you. There’s no denying that your girlfriend is an irresistible cockslut and personal toy, since the part goes both ways when it’s the right occurrence. Once she’s through the few moments of breathing, her jaw slacks and takes you back in, hearing you huff at the subtle graze of her teeth.
The moan sputters out on impulse as you get careless and place your hand to Yunjin’s cheek, rubbing a thumb below her eye, and you could see the tick at the corner of her mouth break into a smile. She lifts her head up, giggles at the shudder of your thighs when her teeth taps your cockhead. “Aw, are you worked up already?”
“More or less,” you answer, and it’s a sudden moment of grace, a blessing in disguise, mind telling the rest of your body to calm down as she slowly jerks you off. “You know me, I wouldn’t back down on your escapades,” and you moan again when she speeds up the pace, “Seriously, it’ll be on you if I cum like this.”
She kisses your cock and licks. This girl can’t be helped. “What a shame. Hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“We can do this all night if we have to, so why not?”
Yunjin lets out a dry laugh. “We will, don’t worry,” she says, carefully pumping you and swipes her thumb over the slit, seeing the thread of precum bridged across, twisting at the middle. “It’s just been a while since we’ve had a conversation while I gave you head.”
“What’s on your mind this time?” you inquire, playing into the deliberation, “Probably something intriguing, I assume.”
Yunjin blinks, locks her finger and thumb around the base of your shaft. “You think Kazuha’s fucked a cock like this?”
You stare, pondering, it takes a second longer for the question to set in because it’s entirely out of left field. “You’re asking me out of all people? How the fuck would I know? She doesn’t bring those kinds of details up with me whenever we talk about it.”
“But I can’t help but wonder,” Yunjin tuts, hand carelessly sliding around you, nicking her head back. “Have you ever fantasized about your best friend?”
“Yunjin, that’s just weird. Fuck no-”
“Aw, you can be honest with me. You and I don’t keep secrets with her as it is, no need to hide.”
She then tips her head, flickers her eyes up at the heavy sigh your mouth makes when her lips make contact with your cock. Her smile goes even wider, noticing the twitch at your eyebrow, how you’re clenching your teeth and bring your chest up to your shoulders - where she’s managed to work you up with the finesse and enchantment that’s simply exuded from her.
There’s nothing much for you to do except sitting back and let Yunjin take your whole length into her mouth. No notes or objections for her to hear, but the sticky wet sounds slathering your shaft and your body moments away from finally giving the reward she rightfully deserves.
“Pretty fucked up sense,” you’re mumbling your head off, moving wisps of her hair out of her face, thinking less and less as she stuffs her throat of you, keeling and leaning forward to where you’re lifting your ass off the couch. “Shit-”
This is her version of a truth serum, a polygraph; her mouth and hands working beautifully in tandem, her collarbone vanishing into her neck, guiding you to the well-wrapped grip she has with her fingers, fucking you with panache in the hot curves of her throat.
She loves it when you’re like this: bending to her will and getting you off with the tightest fist. Wringing you clean now that you’ve done the hard work.
Her hand cups your balls, nails scratching the ridges. The pace she keeps is relentless, alternating from base to tip so excruciatingly well, twisting and jerking and fucking-
“Mmph?”
“You’d be surprised if I said yes.”
Yunjin slides her mouth off once more, spits the underside, lapping up the slick. “No fucking way. You’ve thought about it before?”
“Predates you, if you want me to be more specific.”
She flashes the same wicked grin you’ve seen before, tongue tracing a path at the root. Pursing her lips when she inhales, taking in the scent. Legitimately, fuck her. Lashes fluttering heavy with the eyelids, pupils dilating and too faded for you to notice. “If it makes you feel better, I came to that conclusion a while back, just didn’t say anything.”
“Were you sparing me?”
Yunjin ticks her lips, still smiling, taking pride at the concurrence. “It is also hot for you to finally confess about her.” Her hand plants firmly at your thigh and you consciously thrust your hips back in, gasping in beautiful bliss. She swallows you back up again, clenching her throat and sealing where you’re blinking a lot more faster this time. That rose colored mouth humming along the skin with every puff of her cheeks, flushing it perfectly like it’s practiced. Her back arches and bends, unfazed with the constant shake of your right leg, all the motions culminating in your muscles and hers, rising and rising-
“Yeah, okay, alright, I’m- holy shit-”
“Mmmphphm-”
Your composure snaps, hand now to her head, a death grip in her hair, fucking her face ruthlessly, drunk at the feeling of her mouth and the obscene gawking noises and the bob of her throat curling your cock, lips smaking and drooling more that you regret not putting a towel on the hardwood floor beneath you two.
It’s incredibly difficult to internalize, let alone imagine the wish you could capture this feeling for eternity, bring it out from a bottle at the shortest convenience. Yunjin doesn’t falter with the moaning, friction slippery and neurons overloaded, delusion finally high and head still to you - plugging her hot mouth full of your cock, sliding in the smooth muscle, throbbing.
She takes another deep breath, earning a palm to her face, gaze wistful and deep into your soul. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
Damn right you are.
Yunjin doesn’t need to clarify what she said, since she already knew. Instead, the flicks of her wrist are astonishingly meticulous, amazed that you’re rock solid not just because of her, but rather the thought of Kazuha doing the same thing to you, given with the experience.
“I think you’re ready,” she declares, and the sentence alone is loaded with different interpretations.
She doesn’t savor the moment of grace soon after, siphons the breath out of you when she puts her lips back on your cock. Your mind’s no longer there, thinking: Yunjin, Kazuha - the pair doing numerous things to you all at once. Trading your cock between their hot mouths, hands stacked along your shaft, pressing into their slick cunts and watch them keen of being split apart. Yunjin’s sloppy mouth fucking you brings it back to reality, slit leaking and ready to burst. She licks once, twice, thrice, lips wrapped around your cockhead and hand twisting the shaft, aiming in one direction where the load should go.
Your thighs tense, breathing ragged, shoulders back and chest out when her eyes go wide - shocked at the first thread of cum caught in the roof of her mouth. A pillow falls off from the couch as you’re fighting the urge to push her face away from your hips and that’s when it get worse.
It hadn’t been that long since you last came, but the surprise was a welcome one when more shots of white start spilling over your stomach, her hands, her face, on her button nose, your shaft twitching in her hands when she hovers her mouth over your tip and seals it to safeguard remnants of the damage.
“Yunjin, fuck- oh, fuck-”
“Mmm,” she hums gleefully, licking the mess off of you and squinting at the leaking slit, pulsing out more. Your cock softening again and body in a complete mess, fingertips carefully moving on your belly and brain falling in and out of consciousness. “Oh my god. You came so fucking much.”
She nuzzles her face into your side, observing your chest calming down: “didn’t think I had more in me.” And that’s pretty ironic coming from you. “Congrats, babe. Consider me dead.”
“There’s more where that came from,” replies Yunjin, orange hair swirling over your shoulder. “We’re even now.”
Doesn’t get any better than that, really. The score stands at one-to-one.
–
“By the way,” Yunjin starts off again, spent and roughed up on the mattress after going back to back rounds a little less than thirty minutes later. First in the shower and the second on the bed; a restoration to the pecking order, actually on the same page. “She drunkenly confessed to me about it while you were gone one night. Poor girl can’t keep a secret. I felt bad.”
“Her loss, honestly. Sucks to be her for having the issue.”
“You don’t think it’s a problem.”
“Well that depends on your solution.”
“Well,” says Yunjin, expectant. “I was gonna propose-”
(You can kind of see where this is going.)
“-maybe the both of us could- y’know, deal with her as we see fit.”
“Meaning?”
“Emulate a porn plot towards her, the typical one where the girlfriend shares with her best friend.”
You plop on the mattress, tilting your head.
“Like a collaborative effort?” You’re then asking; the thought not too far-fetched, but still brazenly out of her mind. Even for Yunjin’s standards. “What’s worse is the idea of you sharing me? With Zuha? I swear you were possessive about me, where did that go?”
Yunjin bends her leg up against yours, brushing a thigh before her knee nestles at your waist. Nothing but smooth, soft skin just there for you to touch, to feel, and just- right on your lap.
“Consider us sharing. Communal, I guess.” Her brain’s working next to you, then it hits. “A communal cock for the both of us.” She snorts, bursts out laughing once she’s created the twisted hypothesis. “Our cock. Kazuha and I. Please, tell me you’re loving the idea.”
“I don’t hate it,” you’re stating, hand slipping lower to the swell of her ass. There you go again: thinking about Kazuha and Yunjin together. It’s supposed to be a silly theory.
“So, will you help me? Unless there’s something I don’t know about.”
“I’m not really in a position to say no, but I’ll let you do your thing.”
“Take that as a yes, then,” Yunjin rests a cheek along your chest, prompting you to move your other arm around and fully embrace her, paying no attention to her kneecap pressing up against your balls, “you wouldn’t want to hear my plan to get our girl set up for what’s coming?”
“You can brief me sometime later.” Another thing added to the agenda, with the rest of the responsibilities filling up your notifications and inbox. “Unless you want to surprise me.”
Yunjin squints her eyes, purses her lips at you the next second; fingers dancing along your jaw, your throat. “If that’s what you want,” she concurs, retrieving your hand to her hip. “One more for the night?”
“Don’t blame me if you can’t walk the next morning.”
And so she gets herself off like that. Your cock in Yunjin’s hand and pressed up against the skin, feel the rush of her pussy lips coating you in slick. Her fingers too dainty and delicate, precise at the touch. You’re alternating from slipping inside her hot cunt - eventually stuck between her impossibly tight thighs crushing the shaft.
Your throat and hers rumble low, locking legs and letting the hinged hips do their own thing, listening to each other’s nuances of groans and curses and names traded until the overdue exhaustion following the pleasure washes over you two. Yunjin’s face is dazed, relaxed and satisfied with the spill between her legs, her whole body wrapping around you; conserving the heat in any way she can - even if it means to sink your cock back into your cunt.
You’re hoping the next wet dream you have turns into reality.
–
A quick look into the inner lens of manifests and proclamations: most of the intents are put in a good light. Speak it into existence and great things will soon come its way - that type of thing.
When you want something - you’re holding your breath for what’s to happen.
As for Yunjin, it’s quite the opposite:
“Imagine all the ideas you could have if you just- let it happen?” She’s on your back and flipping pancakes, breath tickling your ear and putting her down becomes a favorable option than the latter. “Look at it this way, Party A can only take action if the conditions are met in agreement with Party B.”
“Please allow me to ask, but who the fuck is Party B?” You swivel in place and swing Yunjin’s long legs around the kitchen, the wrap of her arms hooking deeper at your neck.
“I’m not answering that,” Yunjin says, foot to your thigh and altering your attention to a low-ponytailed Kazuha sitting across, ready and raring to go for her run.
Kazuha looks dumbfounded, lost, predictable. “What are you guys talking about a Party B?”
“Huh?” you and Yunjin say in unison.
“Huh?” Kazuha repeats the utterance.
Then all three of you say: “What?” Queue the laugh track - somebody, please.
“Enough of this,” you declare, setting Yunjin down so she can finish cooking the meal. You glance at the glowing screen of your phone, see a few new messages pop up, and a notification from one of the places you applied to. “Crap,” you then say, realizing what’s on the attachment, “It got moved up?! Gotta run.”
“You too, hm?” Kazuha chides, with an eye smile and a slice of banana in her mouth. “Cute.”
“Make sure you bring your lunch with you, honey!” Yunjin yells while you blitz back into the bedroom to get changed. “Can’t own the interviews on an empty stomach!”
–
Various managers you keep in touch with praise your skills and determination, saying that you would be a good fit for the team. It’s a waiting game now; only a matter of time before someone steps forward, claims you as theirs.
Some places you’re fielding calls from, shortening the list. You’re forwarding it back to home base: hit or miss for today’s adventures, thinking about taking either minnie’s offer or sian’s.
Yunjen 💟: i loooove sian! miss that girl so much (;-;)
Yunjen 💟: pls say yes to her next time, for me? 🥺
🍑: u forgot ur water bottle at home, idiot 🥸
You: great, now i gotta wash it because you touched it
🍑: you’re really bout it today, huh?
🍑: i’m gonna kick your ass when you get back
You: please, whatever you throw, i’ll catch
Yunjen 💟: aw, i won’t be there to see you school her in mario kart again 😭😭😭
🍑: if i can beat your ass at racing, jennifer, i can def beat him
🍑: u think too low of me.
Yunjen 💟: you two play nice now, i’ll be back by dinnerrrr
Yunjen 💟: let me know how it goes
–
Kazuha greets you at the door, sighing with disappointment, like she owns the place - that’s partly true: she pays for half the rent but always forgets until you remind her.
“What’s with the look?” you ask flatly.
“Nothing,” she shrugs, face tugged to a scowl. “Just thought that you’d be back in high spirits after landing the job.”
“Results don’t come that fast,” you remark, following her in the apartment, feet scruffing and leggings skin tight around her figure. Hair clumped together after being tied for a long period. “They said that they’re gonna do one more week of evaluations and see from there.”
“Meaning?”
“I get the job, which means more money; if not, we keep looking.”
Kazuha chuckles, settling herself on the couch with her legs curled, watches as you drop your things and join soon after. “Is this the part where I ask how your day was like old times?”
“Zuha, I’m gonna walk right out that door if you do. Please don’t.”
“Not even this once?”
You stare at Kazuha’s delighted wink, rolling her eyes back and cringing. “Well shit, my day hasn’t been that interesting either, thanks for asking.” She says, palm sliding down her face with a sheepish smile. “Can’t even have drinks until Yunjin gets back.”
“What’d you suggest we do for the meantime?”
Kazuha grabs the controller, treating it like a deck of cards for a party trick. She lifts her eyebrows, tempting.
“You weren’t kidding.” you say, amazed.
“Unless you have a better idea,” she drawls, shaking it to double down the offer. “What, too much of a pussy to play me?”
“You’re on. Give me the other controller.”
–
Full disclosure aside.
Moments like these with Kazuha have always been the usual bread and butter for you two to bond over on. With the amount of years carried in between - part of you has imagined what it would be like if the relationship label found its way to you two instead of the opposite.
(You remember it vividly, the brief period was short lived for a few months after keeping the emotions at bay for a long ass time. Going into high school was the usual phase where the feelings aren’t exactly certain, and eventually change. She could’ve left you out of her life then, but didn’t. Attached wasn’t the right word you or her would say, though, you’re glad she stayed either way.)
Even after she started to come out of her shell, be talkative, get more active, fit in clothes that make you and every other horny guy on campus drop their jaws at, she’s still the same girl you met back in kindergarten: a true friend at your side going places, while also doing stupid stuff for the fun.
“This goddamn blue shell, I swear to god-”
As for you, well- you’ve got tunnel vision, deathly locked to the screen, blocking all outside noise and focusing on the mario character and the amount of asphalt you got on the tires. Kazuha was all up in your ear, talking about how she managed to build a gap after a poor start on your end with the amount of bananas being tossed up track and dropped along the kerbs. She also thought racing at 200cc was a great idea - when in reality she’s only raced nothing above 50cc.
She’s using every trick in the arsenal: the hand to your face, kicking your side; hell, even covering your end of the screen if it meant being in last place. Her definition of victory was seeing you not succeed.
All in all, it was a good way to have fun.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she asks, when she’s fully calmed down and actually playing properly. “That night where you had to pick me up from the kickback,” her body leaning with the steering motion of the kart when the controls were strictly to the joystick. “No one told me I didn’t get hooked up with anybody.”
“Because you didn’t.” you say tiredly. Explaining the gauntlet she gave you to bring her back home safely.
You’re finishing first ahead of Kazuha - the girl can’t drive in real life as it is.
Her legs cross over yours, paying no attention to the spread of her toes and flex of her calves. Heel grazing your crotch before resting along your thigh, fighting the urge to break composure and adjust yourself. “Hmph, that’s a shame. Since you did see me drunk after all-”
“Happens multiple times than I would like to count,” you’re saying mildly, glancing, “I was also hoping that Sakura would take you home instead of Eunchae calling me.”
“Is that what happened?” Kazuha asks, and it abrupts your thoughts quickly. “Sorry- I know I asked the morning after but - still don’t remember much.”
You look away, down to your hips. Your mind and body clearly not in sync.
Which begs the question: “So, what do you actually remember? From that night?”
The answer she gives goes in one ear and out the other. Vividly telling you the details.
“You’re not very slick about me; you know that, right?” Kazuha concedes. And you agree, completely cornered.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Gonna keep talking?”
“Please, I can do more than just talk.”
Kazuha bites her lip, pulls her legs back, shakes her head, the intent easy for you to read. There’s a few shared secrets with her you’d like to keep.
What’s one more thing to hide from Kazuha and Yunjin?
–
Think of it this way, racing’s got a lot to offer: the thrill, the rush, the risk. Kazuha loves to put you in the dust; always making you chase until you’ve got one over her. She’s screwed you over in other lifetimes - including this one - but, it’s worth noting the exception: a rare occasion where you’re back at the starting line and finishing all the same.
Kazuha doesn’t look over her shoulder often; disregards the terror she leaves behind without a care, and you ought to remind her where it lands as soon as you can.
“Jesus christ-” is what leaks out of her lips, biting down another moan in her throat. You cup her chin and force the look up, hands slipping on the glass. “Your fucking cock is just-”
Amazing? Well, she took the words from Yunjin, and you know.
It’s extravagantly fucked up: turning back time as if it was yesterday - you’re railing her in the shower, warm water falling from above, steam fogging up beneath.
She sure knows how to make you shut up, just like old times, and a small part of you wishes how things might’ve been different if you or her if you said something back then, but you’ll let your bodies do the talking - her cunt clenching around your shaft, skin rippling the water off with every wet slap in, hand reaching for your thigh for stability. You’re just holding on and having her do most of the work in throwing her ass back, begging you for more, press her against the wall, take your cock like she always does - she may treat you like shit in the most affectionate way possible, but that layer is stripped entirely if her heart and mind allowed it. You’re going to fuck her pretty cunt, make her remember that night where she got herself off with you watching and act like nothing happened despite the raw marks of red on her creamy skin.
That too, and she’ll be a pain in your ass still: “What’s wrong? Worried Yunjin will walk in on us?”
“Kind of counting on it,” you relent, and she hunches. You pull her back up and feel her breath hit your chin. “Who knows? Maybe she’d want to join us.”
“You think so?” Her arms flush with the tile.
“If you’ve forgotten,” you manage, bracketing her waist - grip hard enough to make her yelp, and you’re loving every second. She’s a brat and a bitch and a slut rolled up into one; someone who has no care for others, except - oh, right; you’ve put up with it long enough. It’s the perfect opposite. “You’re the one who made the first move.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” she denies, dishonored and deflective, so you drag your hips and push back in, grab her face, watch her jaw go slack. “Oh god. Baby, yes-”
The water’s streaming down her chest, her abs, spraying off to the walls and glass - you snake your hand to her neck, a muscle memory: everything else is an easy line to follow.
One of her legs are lifted for you to hook, so that you can reach the familiar angle you’ve lost the feeling for too long, where you’ve made her scream, swear out more obscene stuff. She’s bracing herself along the wall properly when you’ve slid your cock back inside her; she’s groaning a lot louder now, tensing, moaning - you’re supporting her and she’s taking it like you promised, her head bobbing all over the place, mouth canted, skin flushed hot-pink. A smile breaks at the corner of her lips. It’s the easy position, the natural flow of motion, keeping pace, a simple solution to a problem - all of the qualifications applied in different situations. Except, your hands find themselves on the rise of her hips, ass hypnotizing you all over your eyes; she’s leaking on your cock, cunt split open and ready to ruin - and you think you’ve finally won the argument, somewhere hidden past the heavy breathing.
“Fuck- fuck me. Oh- shit- ah-” spills out, and it’s another win to take in, soaking the moment of bliss - that’s so fucking good, i’ve missed this so much, keep going, yes- right there, harder - she’s lost her mind entirely.
You shouldn’t be grinning wickedly, but you are - it’s relieving in bend a girl like her to your will who can’t hold herself to the end.
“The worst kind,” she’s huffing, gasping, mewling, trying so hard to keep her posture up while you work her towards the orgasm she’s been asking for since her feet skimmed over the bulge in your pants, playing it off like nothing terribly as it’s a routine for her. You’re aware that she’s probably touched herself while you and Yunjin fucked throughout the night. The walls around here are thin as it is, and so much for that.
You don’t let up, fucking her hard and fast, like she wanted - praising you for finally breaking that unspoken rule left behind years ago and promise to keep it on the low. You and her both knew it would happen again eventually. How could you not? Just one little change of impulse and you’re on the one way track to hell.
(Don’t act like this wasn’t your doing, either.)
“I don’t hate,” she says, urging, whining and whimpering and you’re dying to hear more of it for her - “please, just- it’s incredible, I fucking love it, this fucking cock- all for me-”
You grab a handful of her slick hair and yank, watch the arch in her spine rise, the fluttering eyelids and shape of her mouth. Kazuha drops her jaw even lower and winces when you pound her pussy deeper; the imaginary line in your head fades with the steam. She’s clenching tightly around your shaft, and you know that this won’t be a singular occurrence. She’s gonna be coming back for more, becoming addicted, clingy. “You like? S’that feel good?” you’re asking anyway, waiting to hear the same answer.
You want this to last. Her cunt quivers around your length, clamping. You’ve fucked her through the first orgasm, onto the second or third, neither of you are keeping track - you’re chasing for your own - but there’s a sense of grandeur to this, in addition of the gratification to the reward from watching how astonishlingy you can dick her down and put her back in her place.
Kazuha’s putting effort where it counts. Says: “Need- I need it- fucking christ, please, do it already-” And - fuck, not in a polite way, but good note for trying.
Kazuha sobs along with a low huff that’s one of the hottest things you’ve heard from her in a while - a long time - contracting and expanding and clenching around you. Great job, baby. You did a good job keeping up with me. I don’t mind you cumming first. I’d prefer to finish second. Holy shit, you don’t realize how long it’s been since you stepped in the shower, mind focusing on Kazuha and legitimately nothing else.
“Shh, shh,” you’re saying, a finger to her lips, feel her tongue run against the side of it - and the nod is small, but you’re thinking ahead to what she’ll do next.
You pull yourself out and slap the tip on her pussy lips, listen closely to the squelch when you slip in again, deeper. You can’t tell if the water on her face is from the shower head or her tears, trickling down as her mouth meets yours. God, her kisses are just like the first ones.
“Gonna cum again?” you ask, delicately. “You are. Let it out.”
And Kazuha can breathlessly say yes without the words - she’s cumming, cumming, and wants to show you how badly. You could spend a few more minutes here, conserve the water. Paying the bill and next rounds of games can wait.
–
There’s no complexity behind it. The sun comes up and the world still spins.
Some days, Kazuha flutters to you - bare cunt underneath her shirt and you’re catching a second glance. Slaps your ass like every other time and expects you to bring it up later. Which you do.
Or-
You’re taking her by surprise, as some lousy excuse to pin her down on the nearest hard surface within reach, perch her hips up to yours until you have to carry her to the shower or bed - only for the mess to come back around again. She tugs the ends of the panties, faintly smacking on her skin, wiggles her perky ass and touches her hair - bundles it up in her hands, her slender back towards you and another spot to deal with some other time.
“You sure you don't want Yunjin to know?” She asks, snapping you out of your daydream.
With a quirk of your lips, “Maybe she already knows. But if I speak, I’d be in big trouble.”
Kazuha tsks. “So wrong for you to leave her out of the fun.” To be fair, she’s more right than wrong. If you were honorable enough to tell the truth, you could’ve told Yunjin to commensurate something with the shared dynamics - albeit way more confusing than it is, because it’s all just for fun, a wacky journey with no destination.
A rerun of you, fucking Kazuha into puddled pile of pure putty, watch her eyes shimmer when you cum in her mouth, in her hair, paint her pussy with your mess and see her relieved - a deal slipped under the table, unspoken. Yunjin might’ve swapped roles with her in being gullible or oblivious to the signs now - or even back then, you’re not quite convinced. Bottomline: you’ve missed this version of Kazuha. It’s a nice switch up and a way to disconnect and destress from the pressures of the outside world, sheltering and confining yourself since that’s always the best option to have - besides, there’s some work to do still: you got the notice of the final evaluation, from both jobs at the top of your list, somewhat nerve wracking. You’ll have to make a decision, find what fits best for you, which one pays more. Maybe get a second opinion from Yunjin or Kazuha.
You’ll figure it out as you go along.
–
When you do ask Yunjin about your little dilemma, part of her attention is on you - at a distance.
She’s too busy watching Phantom of the Opera after you ate her cunt out while her hourly reading earlier in the day, only because she kept teasing you underneath the desk while on call with the same friend who managed to land a position at their new job. Relax, they’re saying at the time, don’t worry too much and just be ready for what’s to come.
“Huh? Sorry, ask me again,” Yunjin’s telling you, chin on her shoulder and glances over at you at the kitchen preparing dinner. “The actress’s high note caught me off guard.”
Kazuha laughs, sitting on the counter and at your side, peeling off lettuce for her salad - proximity minimized to where your hand’s grazing her thigh. “Are you sure Sian’s job is the right one for you?” she asks, rephrasing the question as her own. “I mean, you say you liked the offer from her.”
“Possibly,” you answer, slicing a carrot, placing the knife down. “She told me she’ll call sometime tomorrow to confirm.”
“Makes sense,” Yunjin supplies. “Good pay. Office isn’t far, convenient. Also on the fact that she’s pretty to be a manager or in charge? Heavy on the pretty, though.”
“Right,” you agree, looking at Kazuha, fingers slipping over the rise of her thigh and in. You quirk your eyebrow in suspicion, noticing the lack of underwear (once again) and her folds already soaking. “She really is pretty.”
Kazuha bites her lip, dips her head down.
“I think I've made up my mind,” you say, pushing- sliding deeper in, quirk your lip in a ‘shh’ so that Kazuha can keep her voice low. “Might’ve been a pure choice from the start.”
“You think so?” Yunjin says, puzzled. “That was easy.”
You and Kazuha both give a confused look at her. Knuckles curled in Kazuha’s walls, inconspicuous and hidden - a familiar reflex and motion of the hand. She’s so slick for you, it’s unfathomable. A whimper rumbles within her chest, and you cough loudly to cover the sound.
Yunjin glances over for a third time. “Everything okay there?”
Kazuha sniffles, seamlessly playing along without a proper cue. “The onions,” you’re saying, sheepishly grinning like a dumbass. “Zuha got the first wave of them.” To that, Yunjin laughs, wiggling her head the other direction. “Should’ve been helping me over here instead.”
“I would,” replies Yunjin, waving her hand up in the air. “But my legs have lost their feeling. Wonder whose fault is that.”
You shrug your shoulders and carry on your work at the counter.
–
You’re fielding calls from the shortlist, waiting for one contact.
Then the phone rings.
Greetings are exchanged and it’s right down to business: “Drop by the office later. It’ll be brief, I promise. Just checking in one last time on how you feel about the offer.” Sian’s telling you. “Apologies for making you wait.”
“Nonsense,” you’re beaming, swiping through your belongings and whatever you can fill in your hand. “Wasn’t doing much besides keeping myself busy.”
Soon you’re on the way out of the door, noticing a box next to your shoes. You don’t remember ordering anything in the past few days, so that theory is eliminated automatically. Yunjin’s made her way to see you off, arms crossed and partially excited.
You pull your phone away, pointing to the package. You’re mouthing the curiosity, and Yunjin nods. There’s not much to assume: it’s probably a new batch of books for her to read, or some clothes. You don’t suspect much.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way now. See you soon.”
–
(The interview goes exactly as Sian said it would.
She’s telling you about the perks about the office and benefits within the first few months. They’re all really good, you can’t deny that. Not to mention the signing bonus. You can’t stop smiling at the new opportunity, ecstatic for what’s in store.
You’re driving home later and feel like the sun’s burning a little bit brighter than usual - clouds filling up the endless blue sky.
An attempt is made to call Yunjin, but no answer. You try Kazuha too, no luck.
There’s the simple assumption that they’re both busy and they’ll see the missed calls before you get back.
A cleared schedule opens up a lot of things.)
–
Everything seems a lot easier when there isn’t a weight on your shoulders, relieved of stress and the only current worry is hobbling back to your bed and sleeping there for the rest of the day. You click the deadbolt out of place and swing the door open, letting yourself in. “I’m home,” you’re calling out, slipping out of your shoes and the bag gets placed next to the small table where the keys go. “Genuinely thought it was going to take longer-”
You freeze your movements when you hear the spill of moans close by.
Because you peek the corner like a kid waiting for Santa Claus - but instead of seeing a red man placing gifts and stealing milk and cookies, you see Kazuha leaning back on the kitchen counter, sitting on the chair with someone else on top of her, leaving fresh marks it could be mistaken of her being bitten from a vampire - the person on top presses her hips up, diving down to her neck, pushing and yanking before you realize she’s getting fucked by-
“Yunjin, what the fuck!?” you exclaim.
Yunjin rests her head on Kazuha’s chest, fingers clasping to her shoulder - you’ve seen that wicked look on her face before, devilish and corrupt. Now, in your place: it’s Kazuha pulling her close, tilting her head back when Yunjin shifts her hips up between Kazuha’s legs, dragging out another moan.
“Welp, I guess we got caught,” says Yunjin, and her strap-on slips out of Kazuha in one simple pull.
Clearly, you’re confused, bamboozled. Yunjin’s coming back to her senses as she swipes a hair behind her ear, playing the innocent role poorly and none of it makes sense, at all. Your girlfriend and roommate - roommate and girlfriend, and you start to remember-
“Thought I said that I wasn’t finished,” Kazuha sputters, oblivious of your presence. She’s sitting back up on the chair and clinging to the edge of the counter. “You told me that I’ll have my turn with the strap when you’re done - we barely started.” She’s hitting Yunjin’s arm, hair falling over and panting erratically. “Yunjin, please-”
“Zuha,” Yunjin taps Kazuha’s shoulder, flicks a finger towards you - authoritative and calm. “I think we have other things to worry about. Also hey hi, I didn’t hear the door open or you walk in.”
“Well I did,” you say, walking further inside and assessing the scene. Kazuha then sees you in her view and her jaw drops, both shocked and disappointed. “Didn’t want to interrupt your fun little session going on here.”
“She knows about-” Kazuha tries to speak, covered by Yunjin’s hand, and stops her sentence.
“You? Us?” you ask.
“Should’ve told me sooner,” Yunjin butts in, unimpressed with a smirk. “I didn’t expect you’d have a headstart with my suggestion.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Mmfph,” Kazuha tries to say, but the press of Yunjin’s hand is a lot more firm. She’s lost her talking privileges for now. This wasn’t even the worst bit of this incident, you think.
You’re sighing, undecided, at a crossroads: two girls on your shoulders with very similar, contrasting perspectives and ideals. Yunjin’s the purest of angels in human form, Kazuha the devil’s advocate living in your house. The thought of you being walked in by Kazuha with Yunjin on your cock was a thing of the past. With Yunjin’s strap filling up Kazuha-
“How do you suppose we deal with her?” You’re asking, playing into the role of second fiddle to Yunjin’s wishes, wherever she wants to take them, burying your nose into her hair and looking down at Kazuha’s eyes light up in excitement.
“I think you can help me with that,” declares Yunjin, and for the thousandth time it’s something you’re following through. “Give this girl a proper work up for once.”
“With pleasure.”
“But first-”
“First?”
Kazuha’s body tenses. “Mmrph??”
Yunjin’s head dips, licking her lips. Her fingers tap the fabric of your crotch. “Not yet,” she sighs, and she’s teasing the pink head of plastic on Kazuha’s folds. “Actually,” Yunjin’s hearty laugh gives you an idea where this is going, and it’s not looking pretty. “We’re gonna have you watch.”
–
Where do you even begin with these two? That’s the golden question.
Think of it this way, a coming of age story would have all the highs and the lows, a sunset drive into the horizon with the top down and music blasting for everyone else to hear, romanticizing both the achievements and shortcomings of each character, tossing snacks to each other and clinking glasses while letting the end credits roll.
Kazuha and Yunjin, however, lock lips at the couch; you’re breathing deep - you’re slipping down the chair, not quite shameful that you’re not in the act.
Maybe it’s the fantasy written up in your head - in its purest form and in real time. The ambiance settling down to a space meant to be locked away; shelved behind a drawer and door, never to be seen in the light of day, exclusively for your eyes only.
Yunjin tilts her head one side with Kazuha on the other, playing along well. Everything about it is down to the last vivid detail: her fingers carding into her hair, gripping, pulling her head up so Kazuha can get more air - slip an arm underneath the arching back and bring her leg up against her heat. You give Yunjin a look when she locks eyes with you, paying no attention to Kazuha peppering her cheek with more kisses and clearly asking for more, giggling as she indulges her request. Their hands trailing all over their unclad bodies, miles of skin between them. They both sigh in relief, finally showing what they cherished the most with each other. There’s no regrets of your actions: you’ve got a piece of Yunjin - what she’s like, same for Kazuha from another period lost to time, but it’s all culminated to this. Soon you’re towering the pair and see the crimson and sweat spread across, willing to have your fill be satisfied by both.
If your sympathy was a knife, you’d turn the blade around and twist it inside yourself.
Kazuha’s hand grips the belt loop, grinning. Yunjin tugs your hand to her face, kissing it. Wraps her plump pretty lips on your thumb. An unspoken testament of what’s to come. The credence of raw, unfiltered, sin.
“Is this what you wanted?” Yunjin asks, very silently. Kazuha opens her neck up as an invitation.
“Oh,” you breathe, softly. Kneeling down at the couch and exchanging glances. “You have no idea.”
(Show me everything. Show us everything, they said, partially devious. How bad your impurities are. We want it all. We deserve it all.)
–
Maybe all of this was the long-awaited culmination; Kazuha’s mind is so far gone, back pinned against the wall like she knows you and Yunjin are about to ruin every part of her body. Clothes are being slipped off your frame, pooling onto the floor and soon to be ignored till the next morning. Yunjin’s hands graze your middle, feeling the hardened muscle - sighing into your neck and flashes a look across.
“Should I know how long you two kept this from me?” she asks, half-curious. Well aware of the answer.
You keep your gaze on Kazuha while pulling your head back - observing, but flicking your eyes back and forth. “Would it be best to hear it from the person responsible?” you say, seeing Kazuha’s face shift from her to yours and unsure who to choose.
“Figured there were signs,” Kazuha answers, lifting her leg up at the crease of her knee, giving an implication. It’s not a pressure point - not yet, at least - an angle where you can jump in and double down on. “If they weren’t obvious enough.”
“Are we seriously playing dumb here?” Yunjin then follows up, twisting her head. “Right now? Of all times?”
“Choose your words wisely,” you’re saying, towering over the girl in your arms - a subtle warning.
“You’ll be a good girl, yes?” Yunjin adds. “Then we’ll see if you deserve it.”
Kazuha snickers, sound bouncing off the hallway, and you and Yunjin both sigh in dejection - though, Yunjin slaps Kazuha’s thigh, prompting you to pin her lower half to the drywall. “I see we’re at a bad start already,” she’s saying, and her arm slithers up to your chest, “you keep acting like this, Zuha, we’re gonna have some issues. Not to mention,” she’s rambling, taking a step back to open the space in flipping Kazuha around with her back in view, arms up instinctually and hips moving back, Yunjin’s arms crossed over her chest with the strap-on in her hand, instigating. “I think it’s best if he takes the first crack in breaking you.”
“How generous,” you tell her, leaning down to kiss the fine line of Kazuha’s spine. “I thought you’d be more cruel.”
Yunjin grins, finger to her teeth. “That’s more of your thing rather than mine.”
“Liar,” you growl, and it’s a small reveal of your true intent, bringing them close and never letting go - your arm pulls Yunjin back in, gasping at the sudden move. Yunjin giggles, teetering into a small moan; you look down and she takes the hint in feeling Kazuha’s ass, listening to the hitched breaths, see the slightest scrunch of her shoulder. “Don’t think that you can hide away from me, either,” And you slap your hand firmly on the fresh skin, Kazuha slipping out a yelp in response - “I know you want your fun as well, baby.” Your thumb and index pinch both of her cheeks, squishing. “Unless you’d prefer to watch.”
“You know me. I’ll have my go if you’re willing.”
“I’m still down here,” interrupts Kazuha. “Why don’t you-”
Here was the perfect time to show Kazuha again what you’re made of - you grip both of your hands to the swell of her hips, pushing them up until all of her chest is flush with the wall in front - her hand flies back to yours; clawing the skin on your arm, your hips-
“Watch it,” you snarl, grabbing her wrist and putting it along the small of her back, hoping to break the tension. Technically, she’s doing the opposite.
She squirms in your hands for a few more seconds, resisting. The grunts coming out of her mouth don’t apply to you; Kazuha’s feet skating across the floor, widening the stance, spilling out pleas-
“Fucking swear to God,” she harshly swears, and you’re with her; Yunjin’s taking another step back, leaning. She can’t help but smile at the authority, the general hierarchy you’re used to giving her. Throwing out orders and demands - Kazuha with her insightful snarks, nowhere to be heard or seen as she’s finally getting a taste of her own medicine-
Both of Kazuha’s arms are behind her back. She’s helpless once you’ve finally got a hold on her.
“How long is it gonna take you to fuck me or force me to watch you fuck Yunjin instead?” she whines, persistent. Her hands cup the sides of your hips, pushing her ass back - you don’t fight it, laser focused on her face. “Didn’t realize that we’re dishing out my punishment like this right off the bat.”
“We’re getting there,” you agree, and you’re palming her breast beneath the shirt, clumping up the fabric - thumbing a nipple and pinching. “Yunjin will have her fun too when I’m done with you.”
You look right at Yunjin and she nods.
She’s keeping herself occupied with the strap-on in her hand, putting her pouty lips on the silicone tip, licking shamelessly and her other hand to her legs - cheeks flushed in a hot pink and eyes trained on you. You’d expect her to watch - let her have her own fun in the meantime. She’s so good; fucking you and Kazuha both, though it’s somewhat on par or incomparable to the roughing up you’re gonna do to Kazuha as a means of staying true to your word. Her tongue laves the side of plastic, lowers it down to her hips, hoping to tease and have that ache sated until her turn comes along to be taken, fucked mercissely, ruthlessly.
You lift a brow for the final confirmation, and Yunjin matches it.
“You can watch of course, baby,” you say, and Yunjin’s face lights up. “Go ahead, do what you need to do.”
Yunjin twists her back to the wall, head tilted while her legs spread wider to welcome the space of the strap-on between her legs - you’ve curled your arm around Kauzha’s hip, rub her clit from that angle, stroking slowly at her leaking slit; so yeah, this girl leaks sex. As for you: you’re eating it up. Knowing that there’s another pair of eyes on you, greedily staring once you get on one knee, place a trail of kisses to the backside of Kazuha’s thigh, bundle up the oversized shirt in your hands. You hook your palms to the fold of her legs, brush your nose in her cunt, taste the droplets on your tongue-
“Are we observing?” You ask Yunjin. “Not the first time I’ve seen you use a dildo in front of me.” Your mouth sucks in the dripping slick of Kazuha’s pussy, earns you a sharp inhale through her teeth. Biting down on one of her folds and pulling. “I wanna see you ruined before I have the chance myself.”
Your gaze shifts back to Kazuha because you know Yunjin will follow whatever you say. Even when your cock is brushing up against Kazuha’s slit, pushing in her pussy and the girl sings a broken note.
Kazuha, by instinct, tilts her head down, overwhelmed, choking on the bob in her throat; all it takes is one firm snap of your hips in and it’s not enough time to get accustomed to the stretch - that deep, open stretch, her cunt pressuring you so tight, addicting - you’re amazed at how she can pick up things quickly, breathing steadily with every stroke, see her eyes at the corners, upping the intensity, twisting her head back forcefully and curve the arch a bit more deeper-
A makeshift ponytail is created without a second thought, locking the stare in and keeping it frozen, failing to maintain composure when she’s moments away from finally breaking in front of you, or Yunjin. Kazuha’s pride is always one thing she holds close. Snuff it out of her and there’s nothing, and she can’t deny it: the way that she’s trying so hard to not be a completely needy, slutty bitch.
“What’s wrong, huh?” you’re taunting - imitating her snark - man, it’s so nice not to be on the receiving end in one of those. “Wasn’t this the punishment you asked for? Well guess what?” You’re grasping at her cheek that it brushes yours. “It’s here, Zuha. Just me, you, Yunjin, and your dirty little cunt, all for us to have.”
“All talk, still,” Kazuha remarks, syllables barely stable. She’s so shrunk down over your presence that when your cock is in play, it splits her body in two, crumbling her: she can spit out words for days, but knows that she’s vulnerable in a fight. “You’re not even putting effort into me. Fucking christ- asshole. Just-”
You can’t help but chuckle - actually laugh, because the insults don’t hurt like they used to back then, that added layer in the dynamic where you’ll take the punch and send it right back. You’re slamming your hips in, press your fingers into her hip; Kazuha can keep giving you shit, but you see her head hit the drywall, eyes lidded and mouth quirked to keep it all in. There’s no point - she’s gushing on your cock, clamping.
“Just what?” You yank her hips out and in, make her yelp at the change in pace. “Stop? Keep going? I can’t tell what you’re asking for and neither can Yunjin.” Yunjin herself lets out a breathy sigh - the strap-on’s worked well inside her cunt, matching the strokes as best she can; at this point, you’re just waiting for her to squirt on the floor. “Could’ve sworn you were greedy a few days ago when I fucked you in the back of the car, don’t lie to me.”
“Maybe.” You slide in - genuinely fucking her. Kazuha tries to let it go casually the way you’re cock’s tearing inside her - you’ll give her the ‘A’ for attempting. That feeling can’t be ignored - she’s close, rising within - it’s in the lines of her face, her body, it’s showing. “Fuck - that’s not the point. I couldn’t be more desperate for your cock unlike Yunjin.”
She’s not saying it for Yunjin’s sake, but also for her own: smiling through the pleasure despite her body nearly shutting down and breaking on your cock. All that ego, that bullshit given all these years, it’s all gone in an instant. It was a pipe dream to fuck the boldness out of her - you’ll come close, but not close enough. You’ll fuck her truly in the way that she wants - and the glint over her shoulder pierces through your eyes. Do your worst, you imagine her saying. I’d love to see you try.
So, you’ll give exactly the worst thing to her. You’ll make her cum on your cock.
You let go of her face, grab her tit before sliding down to her pussy. “Look at you,” you tell her, matching the smirk she gave you on the couch the other day, recalling, “nowhere to go.”
Kazuha parts her mouth, ready to dart back with a witty response - or tries to - rocked with her high so intense that it’s bubbling in her throat, on her tongue. She’s there, thanks to you; Yunjin’s honoring your request, wincing, sliding that silicone cock inside-
She’s up next, you’re not forgetting. You take Kazuha - all the way in, past her orgasm, let her shoulders go slack, breath in thin wisps, hand losing grip and slipping from your sweat, and you’re grinding your cock deep in her - all the way down to the base, where the blowback of your balls tapping her clit, prolongs the feeling - a new sensation; fuck, she feels so fucking good-
“How do we deal this out, you suppose?” You ask Yunjin, breathless, head held high, breaking your gaze and towards your girlfriend. “Should I carry on what I’m doing?” Kazuha whimpers when you’re massaging her ass, slowly driving your cock back in, softening the blow. “Do whatever our little slut wishes?”
You and Kazuha both glance at Yunjin together, slick dripping down her thighs, small threads plastered on your hips, and Yunjin slides the strap-on out of her like it’s a restraint. Kazuha slides off your cock, leans back to your embrace, legs quivering - you gave her a lot to handle, that’s for sure. But you’re not done yet. Not until Yunjin’s got her chance.
Yunjin herself is treated to such a sight, cum soaked on the plastic in her hand, but when you sweep her close she’s already falling: like she knows you’ll catch her whenever and doesn’t have to worry about a damn thing. You’re eying her eyes, those plump pretty lips, her long legs rivaling Kazuha’s, her leaking cunt - she’s shifting in your arm, like one look sends sparkles in her eyes. She’s waiting, patiently - lets you do anything to her without saying a single word.
“Enjoyed the show, love?” You’re scratching the sweet spot behind her head and her neck relaxes. It’s those earthy eyes you can’t get enough of, love drunk and over her head with her switch flipped - hot and crazy in love she’ll want everything. “How does it feel seeing lovely little Zuha finally get humbled?”
“I’ll literally cut your dick off if you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” retorts Kazuha, twisting her neck so she could face you. No matter how much of a pain in the ass she is while getting fucked, she’ll own that role close to her heart.
Yunjin flashes a smile, and you smile back. Coming to a consensus. “Not enough for her, sadly.”
Kazuha takes advantage for once, hurling your body against the hallway now, and making you shuffle back past the open door to the room. Yunjin fails at the mediary with her chin on her shoulder, pushing her weight so that the ratio is two-to-one. Both of their eyes are insane, glittering crystals and with a primal ferocity behind them - holy fuck, is it sexy, moments away from victory. Backing you into a corner where there’s no opening for escape.
“Make you eat your fucking words out,” Kazuha says, voice unfazed when she just came on your cock a few minutes ago, “Better hope you won’t get the chance again.”
“Careful Zuha,” Yunjin butts in, hoping to alleviate the tenacious threat. “You wouldn’t want to get on his bad side again.”
“What she said,” you remark - leaving it at that for now.
“Okay then,” Kazuha tuts, grabbing your face for a kiss, clawing your hair, soothing it. “I’m tagging Jen Jen in.”
With that, Yunjin pushes Kazuha off to the foot of the bed and topples over you, claiming her prize.
There’s a passing of the torch in the form of the strap-on - Kazuha takes it and wiggles on the bed - while you’re wrestling for control with Yunjin, grasping her waist and flipping her over so that she’s under, fingers in familiar spots where you’ve left marks and bruises before - ready to it again. “Guess you’re up,” you mumble - feeling the knuckles of Yunjin’s hand on your face before she fiddles with the cuff of your ear, pinching. You’re surveying the planes of her body, targeting the areas where it’ll hurt. “You could never have enough of my cock as it is.”
An instant curveball when you slap her inner thigh twice, flip her over and slap her ass, then roll back to her cunt.
Yunjin shrieks - Kazuha inhales deep at the sound when she pushes the strap-on in her cunt. You smack again, put your mouth to hers and funnel the noise down your neck. This was new to the script, and you’re certain it’ll stay.
There’s no other pretense to act on, and you bury your cock inside her cunt.
She is fucking dripping; given the mewls and moans petering out of her mouth, your ears focus on the sweet sound of slick as her pussy takes all of you, stretching and sliding in the ways you made her break, the noises heavenly, a symphony alone as you get back into true pace - you’re fucking her cunt so hard that it’s almost snapping her spine in half, or make her lose the feeling in her legs. Ah, you’re just treating yourself - possibly. Kazuha’s fucking herself right next to you two and has a front row seat of the one in many acts about to unfold-
Her pussy is incredible - that’s just the jist of it, the meaning already written to existence long before you came along, Yunjin’s just huffing along, the size too grand to bear-
“Good?” You know for damn sure it’s good. Her neck is a nice place for your hand to rest, siphoning the remaining air trapped in her lungs. The last gasp for more, taken away. “Yeah, you know it’s good. Same kind of sluttiness I expected with Kazuha. What would I ever do without you - getting off with your cunt and fucking you as I please. God, baby- it’s so fucking tight down there, I could never-”
You’re left speechless when you abruptly pull out, slap your cockhead along her clit and she’s gushing everywhere, spraying the sheets, squirting in mere seconds. Kazuha drops her jaw in shock, ecstatic, amazed-
“Kazuha’s in her own world, and she’s living in it,” You snap your hips, yank her body, sending another aftershock - your hands will never leave. “It shouldn’t be this easy, babe - the way that you’re just one, insufferable, cocktease-”
Yunjin crunches her eyes, and her lower half subconsciously rolls with yours. She’s one to have her moment, but the way that she’s just taking it - so fucking well-
“This strap couldn’t fill her enough,” Kazuha chides. And that’s the daunting realization - it’s one thing to keep things mundane, by the book, but this: the degrading, the power going to your head, the advantages you seized for yourself, you’re speaking listless shit and giving less of a fuck for your own benefit. “Now you got a taste of your own medicine, honey. All that talk about having all of him when he clearly has sights for others. Now he’s got me to deal with if you’re not around; and look at him, he’s really greedy.
Yunjin’s sobbing, tears seeping at the corners. You’re close - everything in your body expanding and rushing to the peak - but her scared expression makes you think otherwise, spares a second thought.
“Do you believe that, sweetheart?” You grit, releasing your grip around her throat, leaning for a kiss and it brings her back to life. “Tell us how it feels.”
Kazuha’s scooting closer, the silicon impaled deep in her cunt, tapping her clit at a fast pace. She’s conservative, yet so smug that it’s rubbing on Yunjin instead, the build up is there, voices rising, crescendoing-
“It’s so good, so- fuck, so fucking good,” she spits, mouth trembling and the rest of the words are in tongues - and you’re sure that you’ve broke her once again. “I love this cock so much - I can’t even begin to describe how well it fucks me, taking me just to dump your cum, come back for more - please, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-”
On instinct, she taps your thigh. A signal to let you know she has a different play in mind.
You snap your gaze back to Kazuha and she immediately takes the hint, a wicked grin spread on her lips to sell the implied message.
From there it’s a simple one-two, a bait and switch. You slide out of Yunjin’s well fucked cunt and swoop Kazuha’s legs, pulling her over to you while Yunjin staggers back on the bed, taking the strap-on tossed to her so she can simmer down the aching heat engulfing her stomach. You don’t even register the quick inhale Kazuha does when you seamlessly slip back inside her waiting cunt and pick up right where you left off with her - and the screams level with the incessant slaps of skin on skin.
“Back for more, are you?” Kazuha grunts, sucking in her gut from the pull on her shoulders and into your cock. “Such a shameless boy.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, whore.” You’re bearing no mind to the word sputtered out. The only thing in your head is taking your roommate’s pussy and making it yours. Nothing more, nothing less. “Gonna ruin this cunt now.”
“Hold still and look pretty,” demands Yunjin, and she’s on Kazuha’s side, strap-drunk as Kazuha’s head tips back and slides her hand down her abs to her cunt, watching you fuck and fuck and fuck into Kazuha - wrecked and full of your cock, like you needed this to relieve the stress out your body, and Yunjin’s face twists to something more evil, twisted, witnessing a prophecy come to fruition-
“Look at our cute cocksleeve go.” Yunjin’s fingers tap your forearm, nails clawing curves into your skin - the sting going unnoticed as the thrusts keep moving - another sense acquired, you’re sweating, overheating. “I’m sure he came in you already, and guess what? He’s gonna ruin your tight cunt and fill you up to the brim - when we’re done with you, you’re gonna have to be carried around the house-”
Kazuha cries and cums on your waist - Yunjin sits up, fingers fast to the crease of her legs, surprised and seeing it all unfold. As for you, you’re tensing, gritting teeth together, cumming inside her cunt, the release sought after now tumbling in true bliss-
“Oh, no. We can’t have you be that loud now.”
Yunjin waddles over on her knees to Kazuha’s head, angles her head, and pushes the plastic cock between her lips, smothering with her own spit - see the bob form in her throat when she takes it halfway in.
You’re still going, pulling out and sliding your tip across her folds, soaked in white and convinced that there’s more for you to offer. The strokes are consistent, long enough for another minute or so until you’re spilling a second load in her walls, pumping her full.
“God, fucking- Jesus. Kazuha-”
“Mmfrjmph,” she’s got herself full of other things to worry about than your leaking cum in her pussy.
“Jen, switch.” You give the order and your girlfriend drags her hips away from Kazuha’s face. From the second you pull your cock out, white strips start to drip onto the sheets. Your mind’s barely there, putting every fiber of muscle from the nerves to get you at the headboard of the bed and settle into a comfortable position - and Yunjin flips Kazuha over, hooks her hands to her hips, dragging it towards her crotch, she managed to get the strap-on in time, pointing the length to her cunt, picking up small ribbons at the tip.
“Think she needs a little clean up before you have your fun,” you suggest, fingers buried deep into the threads of Kazuha’s hair and forming it into a lazy bun, ignoring the little ‘ah’ from her lips and focusing her head on your softening cock. “Unless you’re gonna jump right in and get sloppy.”
“You’ve made my point beautifully,” Yunjin agrees, lowering her head and raising Kazuha’s hips up so she can get the taste of both, pushing her back down and deepening the arch with a lick of her lips. “You taste good.”
“Are you saying that to me? Or Zuha?”
“Whatever answer you like.”
Kazuha, as always, refuses to pay attention. Rather- her attention is drawn back to your cock, tongue sweeping the underside, your head falling back and hitting the wood behind, feeling her mouth lap up the mess of your cum slicked cock and slide your hips deeper into the mattress. This is heaven for her, for Yunjin too. A truce made once the damage has been done-
“Don’t go too hard on Zuha, she’s been through a lot.” you tell her, but it’s more of a blessing in disguise when you and Yunjin are on the same page in most cases. A girl like Kazuha on her hands and knees, a collective effort fulfilled.
Yunjin cackles and there’s no further meaning there, the tone sweet, syrupy - you could get drunk on it every single time her face brightens up. She’s leaning over to kiss you, arms wobbling in support so that she doesn’t fall on top of Kazuha, and it’s happened before. “Aw, well that’s too bad. I was gonna give her that and nothing else,” she tells you, smacking her lips off of you. Her hands rest at the swell of Kazuha’s waist, kneading and slapping lightly as a light tease. “You think I can’t hold my own.”
You’re seeing a warble in the room somewhere - on Yunjin. The outer line of her stature warps in your vision - hot, messy, maliciously - jerking Kazuha’s hips back and brushes her hips to her ass.”
“Yunjin, fuck- holy shit-”
Kazuha gasps, smiling. The babbles are complete gibberish, filthy - Yunjin’s ramming her strap inside her ass, cum being pushed well into Kazuha’s womb, poking a little bump in her stomach, speeding up the motion and clawing wherever she can. Kazuha swallows up your cock, brushing the head at the top of her throat, humming - the vibrations bringing you back to life-
“She’s built for taking pain,” Yunjin assesses, experimental. She has no regard for her best friend - and you see the whites in Kazuha’s eyes roll back, her lips sealed at the base and understands where she lies between you two. It’s where she’s meant to be, it seems. You could drop witty drawls and creative comebacks; when it comes to fucking her, neither of you expected her to this soaked. “What a slut. Not even a proper dick-down and spanking can’t shut you up.”
Kazuha’s slurps mesh with the words. “I - mmrfph - fine, I swear. Okay-”
It’s somewhat comprehending to have her like this, split in two and mouth full of your cock. “Yeah, she’s good. Kazuha- Kazuha, baby.”
There’s nothing better than this.
Kazuha getting her hole fucked, sucking you dry.
She sucks.
And sucks.
“If there’s anything that we’ve learned,” Yunjin says mid-thrust, pointing Kazuha’s leg up to the ceiling, deepening the angle, “We both can fuck her brains to mush if we wanted to. Any time in the day, just pull her aside and tell her what to do. What do ya think?”
You’re nodding, stuttering. Kazuha’s mouth has you speechless. “I have no objections,” you barely say, thighs tensing and shaking. “Yunjin, I’m gonna cum in her mouth.”
“Then go ahead,” Yunjin tells you, and you do. Kazuha cheeks puff up at the eruption, streams of white leaking at the corners, satisfied.
Yunjin gives one more good thrust for measure, slides the strap-on out of her fucked cunt, exhaustion collapsing her body, pleased and content with her end of the bargain - the strap-on gets tossed off the bed and onto the floor, made well with its use and disregarded.
She rolls over to your side soon after, glancing. Kazuha’s face clearly spent and drifting off to sleep. For the time being.
–
“We might’ve killed her,” you tell Yunjin peepingyour head past the door frame to see Kazuha’s unmoving body on the bed, “Is it worth checking if she’s breathing?”
There’s the last remnants of what unfolded hours ago, the quick debrief - that kind of thing. You’ve got your head full of mixed emotions; each one of them occurring in passing seconds: happiness, satisfaction, remorse - unsure and nervous, kind of, it’s been a long night anyway.
(She’ll wake up in the morning and feel sore. But if her first words of the day are related to bearing you, that’s a clear sign she’s back to normal.)
“Kazuha’s a good catch,” Yunjin says. “If anything, she’ll complain about her thighs being tight.”
“In relation to her pilates?” You flip the cup over and let the water flow into the drain. Yunjin’s patting your face with a damp towel. “Or the sex?”
“Both,” and she smiles. You purse your lips in agreement. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect you to match her energy well.”
“How could I not? C’mon, the girl was asking for it.” You laugh dryly.
“Point taken,” Yunjin concedes and opens her limbs to let you in the middle, wrap them around and embrace you fully. Her borrowed shirt crumpling in, folding and forming creases alike. “You’re too good at this.”
You give her a fond grin. “Wanna tell me that again?”
“No.”
“No?”
To suffice, she slots her lips to yours, leans back and taps the bathroom mirror. “Okay, it’s past our bedtime already.”
You find yourself slipping through the chestnut pools and the titian waves - an endless valley to get lost in, the light radiating perfectly to where it highlights and complements the shades well. You’ve said a lot of things to her, more than you can probably count.
“Love us,” you’re proclaiming, preaching to the open air. Her dragged grin pulls you deeper, and you spot the scrunch at the bridge of her brows: she couldn’t agree more. Then it reverts back to normal: “lose the shirt, we’ll share the body heat under the sheets.”
–
The first day with drastic changes beckoning are scary.
This is nothing new.
Starting from scratch, conceptually, is always a new brush of inspiration, no matter what the event is. Luckily, it’s reassuring that you’re not facing these new horizons alone. With a guy like you, that has wonderful people in your corner - willing to support any endeavor you indulge in, it’s empowering. You’re convinced that the clouds part in the sky for the sun to fill the endless canvas of blue and you feel that whatever’s manifested in your mind will eventually come true.
You have the same old pattern with Yunjin: take her out somewhere nice every now and then, waste your time doing nothing on some days, hold her heels or bag without her asking, let her treat you well whenever she feels like it. You share the usual banter, fuck her if things get boring, give her a lot of things to deal with that she’ll brush off later.
With Kazuha, it’s a dice roll:
She still spits out shit to you with no reason, and you return the favor and fuck her till she begs for more, gets into petty arguments until she comes walking back without saying a word, unable to take compliments, rambles endless fantasies waiting to be fulfilled more than just once. And you accept that she won’t let you off easily.
When the two of them are together, sitting across from you or on their knees; backs on the bed or one eating out the other's cunt, it’s a place of a guaranteed connection; one that’s massively fucked up and with a million ways to go about with the pair. You and Yunjin know this - and between the three of you, it remains unsaid.
“Got everything?” Yunjin asks, handing your trusted tumbler and ruffling up your hair, dusting off your windbreaker like a mom seeing off their child for school. “Expecting a slow day, aren’t you?”
“You know me,” you drawl, grinning. “I’d much rather waste my time here and get paid for it.”
The back of your head nicks forward as a response from behind, looking past your shoulder to see Kazuha tilt her head in view, getting a closer look of your appearance and drawing up her own assessment. “Until one of us get another job, it seems like you’re the main breadwinner of the household.”
“Zuha, him and I were expecting your half of the rent for this month,” says Yunjin, hand to her hip and pouting, “Wanna tell us where the fuck it is?”
Kazuha sashays herself next to Yunjin, inciting a staredown that ends after two seconds, shaking her head and dodging the question entirely. “Don’t worry about it. But I have the money, I swear.”
“And what if you don’t have it when he comes back?” Yunjin asks Kazuha, rolling her eyes before shifting her gaze back to normal, “Then what?”
You’re making your way out as the two continue with the quick argument, disregarding their attention. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be heading out now.”
“Can I fuck her again while you’re gone?’ Yunjin then asks, shouldering her weight to Kazuha. “At least until-”
You sigh.
“I’d like to ask the same question, but do it on Yunjin,” Kazuha replies.
(It’s a lot on your plate with Yunjin. Sure. Kazuha’s added herself to the mix - and it’s a tad bit more complicated. Maybe worse. Fuck all you know: you like them both.)
“I’ll handle you two later,” you’re telling the pair, and they know you mean every word - a promise. “Feel free to get started.” After, you see yourself out the door.
You pull up to the lake house in your beat-up SUV, tires crunching on the gravel driveway, and the second you step out, you’re hit with it—this place is way more stunning than the pics online. The air smells like pine and damp earth, and the lake stretches out in front of you, its surface flat and gray under a thick blanket of clouds. The house itself is this cozy, modern thing—wood and glass, with a big deck overlooking the lake. It’s got this vibe, like it’s begging you to chill out and forget the world for a while. You’re already thinking, Shit, if this week goes as good as it looks, maybe I’ll buy this place. Peace, quiet, and nature all around—perfect for your photography, which is the whole damn reason you’re here. And you’d bet your camera nobody’s around for miles—pure solitude, just how you like it—until you catch a faint wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney of that dark house across the lake, and now your solo trip’s got some unexpected company popping off.
You pop the trunk and grab your gear—camera bag slung over your shoulder, a duffel with clothes, and a cooler stuffed with groceries you snagged earlier. Your day job’s nothing special, just some remote gig doing data entry for a logistics company. It’s boring as hell—punching numbers into spreadsheets, tracking shipments, answering emails from people who can’t figure out their own schedules. Pays the bills, though, and it’s flexible enough to let you fuck off to places like this whenever you want. Photography’s where your heart’s at. You’ve been at it for years, lugging your Canon everywhere, chasing the perfect shot. Landscapes mostly—sunsets, forests, water, anything that moves you. You’re no pro, but you’re good, and you’ve got a decent following on Insta for it. This trip? It’s all about that—getting out, breathing, and nailing some killer shots.
The lake house sits on this little peninsula, surrounded by trees so thick you can barely see the dirt road you came in on. It’s isolated, yeah, but not too far out. There’s a small city—more like a big town, really—about twenty minutes back. You stopped there on the way in, hit up a grocery store for the basics: beer, burgers, some frozen pizzas, and a bag of apples ‘cause you’re trying to be healthy or whatever. They’ve got a coffee shop and a gas station too, so you’re not totally cut off. Still, out here, it’s just you, the water, and the woods. No traffic, no neighbors blasting music—pure silence, except for the occasional bird or ripple on the lake.
You haul your stuff inside, drop it on the hardwood floor, and take a sec to check the place out. Big windows everywhere, letting in that soft, cloudy light. The living room’s got a plush couch and a stone fireplace you’re already itching to use. Kitchen’s sleek, all stainless steel and granite, and the bedroom upstairs has a view that makes you wanna cry—straight across the lake. Speaking of which, you step out onto the deck, hands in your pockets, and squint through the gloom. On the far shore, maybe half a mile away, there's that other house. Two stories, painted some dark color—navy or black, hard to tell with the weather. It’s got these big windows too, glowing faintly, and there’s a car parked out front. A white sedan, nothing fancy. There's definitely someone there, you think, and it weirds you out a little. You weren’t expecting company out here, not this close. The mystery of it nags at you—who the hell are they? Vacationers? Locals? You shake it off for now, but your eyes keep drifting back to that house as you unpack.
The clouds hang low, heavy with the promise of rain, and the air’s got that cool, damp bite to it. You grab your camera—couldn’t resist—and step back outside, adjusting the lens. The lake’s like a mirror, reflecting the sky, and the trees are all moody greens and browns. You snap a few shots, playing with the exposure, already imagining how they’ll look edited. This spot’s a goldmine; you can feel it. But that house across the water—it’s still there in the corner of your frame, pulling your focus. You zoom in, just curious, but it’s too far to make out much. Still, you’ve got this itch now, this tiny spark of intrigue. Whoever’s over there, they’ve got no idea you’re watching.
You’re fiddling with your camera, trying to frame up a shot of some birds skimming the lake, when movement catches your eye. Two figures step out of that dark house across the water. Girls, both of them, and even from this distance, they stand out. One’s got silky brown hair that catches the dull light, flowing down her back like she just stepped out of a shampoo ad. The other’s got jet-black hair, shorter, framing her face. They’re dressed casual—leggings and hoodies, nothing fancy, just comfy vibes. The black-haired one’s got a phone pressed to her ear, pacing a little, while the brown-haired one hovers close, hands in her pockets. You freeze for a sec, then casually swing your camera away, pretending to focus on the lake, the trees, anything but them. Don’t be that guy, you tell yourself, heart picking up a bit. Last thing you need is them thinking some random dude’s creeping on them with a lens.
But your curiosity’s a bitch. After a minute, you sneak the camera back their way, zooming in just enough to see them better. And then—shit—they’re looking right at you. Like, right at you. Your stomach drops, and you yank the camera down, turning your head so fast you almost tweak your neck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can already hear the headlines: “Outsider Caught Stalking Innocent Girls With Telephoto Lens.” You’re not that guy, but try explaining that across a lake. Hoping they didn’t get a good look, you ditch the deck and hustle to your car, popping the trunk like you’ve got urgent business. You grab the cooler and a bag of groceries, hauling them inside, your pulse still thudding in your ears.
You’re not out there five minutes before you’ve gotta go back for the rest. Stepping onto the deck again, you freeze—they’re coming your way. Like, actually walking around the lake toward your side. Your brain scrambles. Bolting inside might look shady as hell, but standing here like a deer in headlights? Not much better. You opt to stay, fiddling with something in the trunk—your spare tire, maybe?—pretending you’re too busy to notice them closing in. Your palms are sweaty, and you’re half-braced for them to start yelling or waving a phone with 911 already dialed.
“Hey!” a voice calls out, bright and chill, not pissed. You glance up, and the black-haired girl’s waving at you, a little grin on her face. You wave back, tentative, still expecting the vibe to shift. “Didn’t know anyone was over here,” she says as they get closer, her tone all friendly-like. “This place was a total dump last year—falling apart, windows smashed, the works. Looks dope now, though. They fix it up?”
You nod, relaxing a bit. “Yeah, rented it for the week. Guess it got a glow-up since then.” Up close, she’s got this energy—outgoing, loud in a good way. She sticks out her hand. “I’m Miyeon. This is Sana.” She jerks her thumb at the brown-haired girl, who gives you a small smile and a nod, quieter, maybe shyer.
“Sana, hey,” you say your name as you shake Miyeon's hand, then glancing at Sana. “Yeah, I’m just crashing here for a bit. You guys local?”
“Nah,” Miyeon says, leaning against your car like she owns it. “This house over there? My parents’. Been coming here forever, usually with a crew of friends. It’s our spot.” She gestures across the lake, where that dark two-story looms.
“Friends?” you ask, glancing between them. “Where’s the rest of the squad?”
Miyeon’s face falls a little, and Sana looks down at her shoes. “Yeah, that’s the shitty part,” Miyeon says, voice dipping. “They just called me—like, right before we came over. There’s a fuckin’ landslide or something on the main road in. Rain’s been nuts, and it’s blocked off. They were driving up from a couple hours away, so they just turned back. Not worth the hassle.”
“Damn,” you say, genuinely feeling for them. “That sucks. So what’s the plan now?”
Miyeon shrugs, kicking a pebble. “Hang out, I guess. Wait for the road to clear, then head home. Not much else to do.”
Sana pipes up then, her voice softer but curious. “That camera,” she says, nodding at it slung over your shoulder. “You a photographer or something?”
“Nah, just a hobby,” you say, brushing it off. “I work some boring-ass data job—spreadsheets and shit. This is what keeps me sane. Love shooting nature, landscapes, whatever catches my eye.”
Miyeon perks up. “You got an Insta for it? Let’s see.” You hesitate, then rattle off your handle. She pulls out her phone, taps away, and Sana leans over her shoulder as they scroll. “Yo, these are good,” Miyeon says, legit impressed. “Like, really good. You’re underselling yourself, dude.”
“Yeah,” Sana adds, her shy edge melting a bit. “The lighting in this one? Wow.” She points at her screen, and you feel a dumb little rush of pride.
“Thanks,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “I’m here to chill and snap some shots of the lake, the woods, you know. Recharge.”
“Smart move,” Miyeon says. “We were gonna swim out there—” she nods at the pier stretching into the lake—“but it’s freezing. Usually it’s warm enough this time of year, but not today.”
“Global warming’s fucking with everything,” you toss out, and they both nod like, yep, that tracks.
Then Miyeon tilts her head, grinning. “Hey, since you’re Mr. Camera Guy, how about you take a pic of us out on the pier? Something to remember this weird-ass trip by?”
You blink, caught off guard, but they’re both looking at you expectantly. “Uh, yeah, sure,” you say, slinging the camera off your shoulder. “Let’s do it.”
They lead the way to the pier, Miyeon strutting ahead like she’s on a mission, Sana trailing a step behind, sneaking little glances at you. You’re still buzzing from the fact they’re cool with you—more than cool, actually friendly. You follow the girls down to the pier, boots thudding against the weathered wooden planks. The lake stretches out around you, still as glass under the heavy, gray sky, and the air’s got that sharp, pre-rain chill. Miyeon’s practically bouncing as she strides to the end, her black hair swinging, while Sana trails a little slower, her silky brown locks catching the faint breeze. They stop at the edge, the water lapping gently below, and turn to face you. “Alright, camera guy,” Miyeon says with a grin, planting her hands on her hips. “Work your magic.”
You lift the Canon, squinting through the viewfinder, and—damn—they’re gorgeous. Like, unfairly photogenic. Miyeon’s all confidence, popping a playful pose, one leg bent, head tilted, flashing a smirk that’s equal parts goofy and charming. Sana’s quieter about it, crossing her arms and giving a shy smile, but there’s something striking in the way she stands, the way her hair frames her face. You snap a few shots—wide angles with the lake behind them, then some tighter ones, playing with the depth of field so the cloudy horizon blurs out. Miyeon keeps it lively, throwing out dumb poses—peace signs, a fake pout—while Sana giggles and follows her lead, loosening up bit by bit.
“Yo, let’s see!” Miyeon calls after a dozen clicks, jogging over with Sana in tow. You flip the camera around, scrolling through the shots on the screen, and their faces light up. “Holy shit, these are fire,” Miyeon says, leaning in so close her shoulder brushes yours. “You sure you’re not a pro?”
“They’re so good,” Sana adds, her voice softer but just as impressed. “Like, we actually look cool.” The pics are sharp, the girls popping against the moody backdrop, their colors—black hoodie, brown hair—standing out in the gloom. You nailed the focus, the composition, everything.
“Yeah, well, you guys make it easy,” you say, shrugging, though you’re secretly stoked they like them. “Wish the weather wasn’t so shitty, though. This light’s all flat and gray—makes it look like you’re in some creepy thriller flick or something.”
Miyeon’s grin falters for a sec, and she nudges you with her elbow. “Dude, don’t even joke about that. We’re already kinda freaked out being alone over there.”
You laugh, raising an eyebrow. “What, you think some axe murderer’s hiding in the woods? Any crimes around here I should know about?”
She shakes her head, smirking but with a little edge. “Not that I’ve heard of, thank God. Just… it’s quiet, you know? Too quiet sometimes.”
“Fair,” you say, glancing out at the lake, the stillness of it almost eerie now that she’s put the thought in your head. “Well, if you guys need anything—someone to fend off the boogeyman or whatever—just hit me up. I’m right across the water.”
Miyeon’s eyes spark up, and she pulls out her phone. “Bet. What’s your Insta again? I’ll follow you, and you can DM me those pics.” You give her the handle, and she taps it in, tossing you hers in return—@miyeonnotmignon, which makes you snort ‘cause it’s so her. “Send ‘em whenever,” she says. “I need these for the grid.”
Sana glances at the sky, tugging her hoodie tighter. “We should head back. Looks like rain’s coming soon.”
“Yeah, true,” Miyeon agrees, squinting up at the clouds, which are starting to clump thicker, darker. “Don’t wanna get stuck out here when it dumps.” She turns to you, flashing that big, easy grin. “Enjoy the place, dude. Don’t let the thriller vibes get to you.”
You smirk. “I’ll try. You guys stay safe over there. Don’t go summoning ghosts or anything.”
Sana giggles at that, and Miyeon just rolls her eyes, waving as they start back down the pier. “See ya, camera guy!” she calls over her shoulder. You wave back, watching them go—Miyeon’s loud laugh echoing faintly, Sana’s quieter figure beside her—until they hit the shore and start the trek around the lake. You linger a minute, camera still in hand, the pier creaking under your weight. The air’s heavier now, the first hint of rain prickling your skin. You glance at their house across the water, its dark shape fuzzing out in the haze, and that little spark of mystery flares up again. They’re cool, way cooler than you expected. And something about them—maybe Miyeon’s loud charm, maybe Sana’s shy warmth—sticks with you as you head back to your own place, the promise of rain rumbling in the distance.
—
It’s been a few hours since you got back from the pier, and the world outside’s turned into a damn monsoon. Rain’s hammering the windows like it’s pissed off, streaking down the glass in relentless sheets, and the wind’s howling through the trees, making the whole lake house groan. Inside, though, it’s cozy—borderline toasty, thanks to the heater humming away in the corner and the fireplace lit downstairs. You’re sprawled on the bed upstairs, legs kicked out, a half-empty beer sweating on the nightstand from dinner—frozen pizza and some chips, nothing fancy. The generator’s chugging along out back, but you’re keeping an eye on the lights, half-worried it’s gonna crap out from all the juice the heater’s pulling. Last thing you need is to freeze your ass off out here.
You’ve got your laptop propped on your thighs, scrolling through the shots you took earlier—the pier pics of Miyeon and Sana, plus some moody lake stuff before the sky opened up. The girls’ photos are gold, even with the flat light. Miyeon’s got this wild, carefree energy in every frame, while Sana’s softer, her shy smile sneaking through. You tweak a couple in Lightroom, bumping the contrast, and damn, they’re Instagram-worthy for sure.
Eventually, you shut the laptop and roll off the bed, stretching. You can’t help it—your eyes drift to the window. It’s pitch-black out there, the rain turning everything into a blurry void. You press your forehead to the cold glass, squinting across the lake. Their house is just a smudge in the dark, but the lights are on—warm little squares glowing through the storm. You wonder what they’re up to. Probably curled up on a couch, watching some cheesy rom-com or maybe a horror flick, given Miyeon’s half-joking about being spooked. Popcorn, blankets, the whole vibe. You picture it for a sec—Miyeon yapping over the movie, Sana giggling at her—and it’s kinda cute.
Then—blink—the lights across the lake go out. All of them, at once. You blink too, like maybe your eyes are screwing with you, but nope, it’s dark over there now. Weird as hell. Your first thought is they hit the sack, but it’s too sudden, too synchronized. No way they flipped every switch at the exact same second. A power outage? Maybe the storm fried something. You stare into the blackness, chewing your lip. Okay, maybe you’re overthinking it. You’ve been out here alone too long, and those two are the only blips of life in this wilderness. It’s not like you’re obsessed or anything—they’re just… there. Still, it bugs you. You shake it off, muttering “whatever” to yourself, and decide to crash. Bed’s calling, and the rain’s drumming hard enough to knock you out.
You’re halfway to brushing your teeth when—thump thump—a sound cuts through the storm. You freeze, toothbrush dangling, listening. Imagination, right? This place creaks all the time. But then it comes again, louder—THUMP THUMP THUMP—straight from the front door downstairs. Your heart kicks up, and you spit into the sink, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Could be a branch or some shit blowing around in the wind, but it sounded too deliberate. You grab your phone, thumb hovering over the flashlight app, and creep to the stairs, ears straining. The rain’s deafening, but there’s something else—a muffled voice maybe?
You pad down to the first floor, barefoot on the cold wood, nerves buzzing. The knocking’s real, no doubt now, and it’s insistent. “Who the fuck—” you mutter, snagging a jacket from the couch and shrugging it on. You’re half-expecting a drenched hiker or some rando stranded in the storm, but part of you—okay, a big part—wonders if it’s them. You flip on the porch light, yank the door open, and—bam—a flashlight beam hits you square in the face, blinding you for a sec.
“Shit, sorry!” a familiar voice says, and the light drops. It’s Miyeon, soaked to the bone, her black hair plastered to her face, hoodie clinging like a second skin. Sana’s right behind her, brown hair dripping, looking like a drowned kitten in her oversized sweater. They’re both shivering, rain streaming off them, pooling on your doorstep.
“Jesus, you guys okay?” you say, stepping back to let them in. “What the hell happened?”
Miyeon’s teeth are chattering, but she’s still got that spark. “Our generator fucking died, dude. No lights, no heat, nothing. We’ve got no clue what’s wrong, and it’s creepy as shit over there. Can you—please—come take a look?”
“Yeah, of course,” you say, already zipping up your jacket. You grab your boots from the mat, shoving them on while they hover by the door, dripping and miserable. “You sure you don’t wanna dry off first? You’re gonna catch pneumonia or something.”
Sana shakes her head, hugging herself. “We just wanna get it fixed. It’s freezing, and I swear I heard something moving in the dark.”
“Probably just the wind,” Miyeon says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “Still, let’s go. I’m not sleeping in a blackout.”
You snag a flashlight from the kitchen drawer—bigger than theirs, one of those heavy-duty ones—and flick it on. “Alright, lead the way. Let’s see if we can save your night.”
They nod, grateful, and you step out into the storm with them. The rain hits like needles, cold and relentless, soaking through your jeans in seconds. Miyeon’s ahead, power-walking around the lake, while Sana sticks closer, her flashlight beam jittering across the muddy path. You’re all hunched against the wind, shouting over the roar of the downpour—Miyeon bitching about how her parents need to upgrade their shit, Sana muttering about hating storms. It’s a slog, wet and miserable, but you can’t help feeling a little badass, trekking out here to play hero. The house looms ahead, a dark silhouette against the storm, and the second you step inside, the vibe hits you—cold, damp, and way too quiet without the hum of electronics. Miyeon flicks her flashlight around, leading the way through the living room—furniture shadowy lumps in the gloom—down a narrow hall to a back door. “Generator’s out here,” she says, shoving it open. The wind blasts in, spraying rain across your face, and you grimace as you follow them into a little shed attached to the house.
The generator sits there like a grumpy old beast, silent and useless. Sana holds her flashlight steady, the beam jittering a little from her shaky hands, while Miyeon aims hers at the control panel. “It just… stopped,” she says, kicking the base lightly. “No warning, no nothing.” You crouch down, popping the side panel open with a grunt, and peer inside. The smell of wet metal and fuel hits you, and you sweep your flashlight over the guts—wires, gauges, a fuel tank that’s still half-full. You’re no expert, but you’ve fucked around with enough random shit to spot trouble. And there it is: a busted fuel line, cracked clean through, leaking diesel into the housing. Probably shook loose from the storm’s vibration or just shitty luck. Either way, it’s toast—no quick fix tonight, not without a replacement part and better light to work in.
“Bad news,” you say, straightening up and wiping your wet hands on your jeans. “Fuel line’s fucked. It’s leaking everywhere, and I can’t patch it with what’s here. You’re outta power ‘til we get a new one.”
Miyeon’s face drops, and she lets out a loud, “Are you kidding me?!” She paces a little, flashlight beam swinging wildly. “This is some horror movie bullshit. What the hell are we supposed to do now?”
Sana’s quieter, but you can tell she’s freaked too—her arms are wrapped tight around herself, and her voice comes out small. “It’s so cold already. And dark. I don’t like this. I swear I keep hearing noises.”
You glance around the shed, the rain drumming on the tin roof like it’s trying to break in. The house beyond it looks like a black hole, swallowing every bit of light. “Yeah, no kidding,” you say, scratching your jaw. “Look, I’m not gonna leave you guys stranded out here. My place has power, heat, and light. Unfortunately there is only one room with a mattress because, well, I wasn't expecting guests. But you can crash there tonight if you don't mind sharing a bed. No point in freezing your asses off in this.”
They both freeze, turning to look at each other. Sana’s the first to speak, hesitant. “Are you sure? We don’t wanna, like, invade your space or anything.”
“Nah, it’s cool,” you say, waving it off. “I’ve got a nice couch. Beats sitting here waiting for the boogeyman to show up, right?”
Miyeon snorts, but there’s relief in it. “Okay, yeah, that sounds way better than this shitshow. Give us a sec to grab some stuff.” They dart back inside, flashlights bobbing, and you wait by the door, leaning against the frame, listening to the storm rage. You hear them rummaging around—drawers slamming, muffled chatter—before they reappear, each with a small duffel bag slung over their shoulder. Miyeon’s got a hoodie pulled tight over her head, and Sana’s clutching a blanket like it’s a lifeline, her wet hair still dripping.
“Ready,” Miyeon says, zipping her bag. “Let’s get the fuck outta here before something else breaks.”
The trek back is brutal—rain in your face, wind shoving you sideways, the girls huddled close like you’re some kinda human shield. By the time you stumble through your front door, you’re all drenched again, leaving a trail of puddles across the hardwood. You kick off your boots, shaking water out of your hair, and point down the hall. “Bathroom’s that way. Go change or whatever—I’ll grab some towels.”
“Thanks, dude,” Miyeon says, already peeling off her soaked hoodie right there in the living room, revealing a damp tee underneath. Sana scurries off, blanket dragging, and you head to the linen closet, snagging a couple of big fluffy towels. When you come back, Miyeon’s in dry sweatpants and a loose tank top, toweling her hair, while Sana emerges in an oversized hoodie and leggings, looking less like a drowned rat now.
“God, you’re a lifesaver,” Miyeon says, flopping onto your couch like she owns it. Sana nods, settling next to her, tucking her legs under. “Seriously, thank you. I was about to lose it over there.”
“No worries,” you say, tossing them the towels. “You guys warm enough? I can put more wood in the fireplace if you want.”
“It’s good,” Sana says, pulling the blanket over her lap. “This is already a million times better.”
You nod, feeling weirdly proud of your little rescue mission, and head to the kitchen. “I’ll make some tea or something. You guys just chill.” The kettle’s already half-full from earlier, so you flick it on, rummaging for some random herbal shit you bought ages ago—chamomile, maybe? Close enough. While it heats, you lean against the counter, listening to them talk on the couch. Miyeon’s voice carries, loud and animated—“I swear, if my parents don’t fix that generator, I’m never coming back”—while Sana’s softer, giggling at her rant.
When the kettle whistles, you pour three mugs, balancing them as you shuffle back. “Here,” you say, handing them over. Miyeon takes hers with a grin, Sana with a quiet “thanks,” and you plop into the armchair across from them, cradling your own. The steam curls up, warm against your face, and for a minute, it’s just the sound of rain on the roof and the three of you sipping.
Miyeon stretches out, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “So, what’s your deal, camera guy? Are you planning to buy this house or something?”
You laugh. “Nah, just a rental for the week. Needed a break from my boring-ass data job. From the city too. Figured I’d mess around with my camera, get some shots of the lake and stay close to nature.”
“Well, you’re stuck with us now,” she says, smirking. “Hope you don’t mind the company.”
Sana glances at you, a little smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, you’re kinda our hero tonight.”
You shrug, playing it off, but your chest puffs up a bit anyway. “Hey, beats being alone in this storm. You guys can crash as long as you need.” They nod, settling deeper into the couch, and the vibe shifts—warm, easy, like you’ve known them longer than a day. The rain keeps pounding, but in here, it’s just you, them, and the crackling of the fireplace making everything feel alright.
“So, what’s your story?” you ask, blowing on your tea to cool it. “You guys come up here a lot, huh?”
Miyeon smirks, setting her mug on the coffee table with a little clink. “Yeah, like I said, it’s my parents’ place. Been dragging people up here since I was a kid. Used to be all family trips, but now it’s more for me and my crew to fuck around—swim, drink, whatever. This time it was supposed to be a big thing, but, well, landslide screwed that.”
“That sucks,” you say, leaning back. “You two stuck it out, though. Pretty badass.”
Sana giggles, peeking over her mug. “Barely. We were freaking out before you showed up. I’m not good with storms—or, like, anything going wrong.”
“She’s a spoiled city girl,” Miyeon teases, nudging Sana with her foot. “Needs her Wi-Fi and hot showers or she starts crying.”
“Shut up,” Sana fires back, but she’s laughing, swatting Miyeon’s leg. “You’re the one who screamed when the power went out.”
Miyeon shrugs, unbothered. “Yeah, ‘cause it was creepy as fuck. Point is, we’re here now, thanks to Mr. Hero over there.” She jerks her chin at you, grinning.
You snort. “Just doing my part. So, what’s the deal with you two? You’ve known each other forever or what?” You figure they’re tight—besties or something, the way they bounce off each other.
They exchange a look, quick but loaded, and Miyeon’s grin turns a little sly. “Not forever,” she says, stretching her arms over her head, tank top riding up a bit. “We’ve been together, what, two years now?”
“Two and a half,” Sana corrects, softer, her eyes flicking to Miyeon like she’s double-checking.
“Together?” you echo, tilting your head. “Like… roommates?”
Miyeon laughs, loud and sharp, while Sana hides a smile behind her mug. “Nah, dude,” Miyeon says, sitting up a little. “Like, together together. Girlfriends. Dating. You know?”
“Oh,” you say, blinking, then catch yourself quick. “Oh, shit, that’s cool. I just assumed—uh, never mind. Awesome.”
Sana’s cheeks go pink, but she’s giggling at your stumble. “It’s fine. People assume we’re just friends all the time. We’re used to it.”
“Yeah, we don’t exactly scream ‘couple,’” Miyeon adds, smirking. “I’m too loud, she’s too sweet. Throws people off.”
You laugh, easing up. “Nah, I get it now. You balance each other out. That’s dope.” You mean it—they’ve got this vibe, like they click without even trying. Miyeon’s all fire and Sana’s the calm, but together it works.
“What about you?” Sana asks, shifting the spotlight. “You got anyone back home?”
“Me? Nah,” you say, shaking your head. “Solo mission right now. Work’s too boring to drag someone else into it, and I spend most of my free time with my camera anyway. Not exactly boyfriend material.”
“Bullshit,” Miyeon says, pointing at you with her mug. “You’re chill, you’ve got a cool hobby, and you’re not a total asshole. You’d do fine.”
“High praise,” you deadpan, grinning. “I’ll put that on my dating profile: ‘Not a total asshole, says random lake girl.’”
They both crack up, and the room feels lighter, like the storm’s just background noise now. You keep chatting—little stuff at first. You tell them about your data gig, how it’s mind-numbing but pays the bills, and how you’ve been shooting photos since you were a teenager, chasing sunsets and storms like this one. Miyeon spills about her graphic design side hustle, how she’s always doodling on her iPad, while Sana admits she’s a barista at some trendy coffee shop, secretly loving the chaos of the morning rush.
“Hold up,” you say, setting your empty mug down. “You’re telling me you’re out here pulling espresso shots all day, and you’re still this chill? Respect.”
Sana shrugs, blushing a little. “It’s not that hard. I just smile and people tip me.”
“She’s lying,” Miyeon cuts in. “She’s a pro. Makes latte art and everything. I can barely pour cereal without fucking it up.”
“Stop it,” Sana mumbles, shoving her playfully, and you can’t help but laugh at how easy they are together. It’s cute—real, not forced.
The convo drifts, and you’re all a little looser, the tea warming you up from the inside. Miyeon yawns, stretching so hard her tank top rides up again, showing a sliver of stomach. “Man, this storm’s not letting up. What’s the plan tomorrow if it’s still like this?”
You glance out the window—still a wall of rain and dark. “Dunno. If it clears, I was gonna hike around, take some shots. If not, I’ve got a deck of cards and some beer. We could kill time.”
“Beer?” Miyeon perks up, eyes glinting. “Why didn’t you say that earlier? Let’s do drinks tomorrow night, storm or not. We’ll make it a thing.”
“Deal,” you say, nodding. “I’ve got some whiskey too, if we’re feeling fancy. You guys in?”
Sana hesitates, then smiles. “Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.”
“Sweet,” Miyeon says, clapping her hands once, like it’s settled. “Something to look forward to after this shitty day.”
You all sit there a minute longer, the mugs empty now, the fire crackling mixing with the rain. Sana yawns next, covering her mouth with the blanket edge. “I’m so tired,” she mumbles. “This whole thing wiped me out.”
“Yeah, same,” Miyeon agrees, rubbing her eyes. “We should crash. You really good with us stealing your bedroom?”
“Take it,” you say, standing up to stretch. “Bed’s made, pillows and shit are in the closet if you need extra. I’ll grab the couch.”
“Are you sure we're not—” Sana starts, but you wave her off.
“Nah, it’s fine. Couch is comfy enough. You guys get the room, no biggie.” You grab the mugs, stacking them to carry to the sink, and they shuffle off the couch, gathering their bags.
“Thanks again, dude,” Miyeon says, dragging her duffel over her shoulder. “You’re, like, our storm savior.”
“Anytime,” you say, smirking. “Night, you two.”
“Night,” Sana echoes, giving you a little wave as they head down the hall. You hear the spare room door click shut, some muffled giggles and whispers filtering through before it quiets down. You rinse the mugs in the kitchen, flick off the lights, and flop onto the couch, dragging a throw blanket over yourself. The rain’s still going hard outside, but inside it’s warm and peaceful. Tomorrow’s got drinks on deck, and with Miyeon and Sana around, it’s shaping up to be a hell of a night. You close your eyes, the storm lulling you off, and crash out with a dumb little smile tugging at your lips.
—
You blink awake on the couch, the blanket tangled around your legs, sunlight sneaking through the blinds in thin, golden stripes. The house is quiet—no rain, no wind, just the soft hum of the heater ticking down, the fireplace already out. You sit up, rubbing your face, and that’s when you smell it: coffee, faint but fresh, and something sweet lingering in the air. Stumbling to your feet, you shuffle to the kitchen and spot a little spread on the counter—toast stacked on a plate, a jar of jam open next to it, and a couple strips of bacon still warm under a paper towel. There’s a note scribbled in messy handwriting: “Thanks for last night! Enjoy – M & S.” You smirk, figuring it’s the girls’ doing. They’re not around, though—place feels empty without their chatter.
You scarf down the breakfast—crisp toast slathered with strawberry jam, bacon salty and perfect—then hit the shower, letting the hot water blast away the last of the sleep haze. By the time you’re dressed—jeans, a hoodie, sneakers—it’s pushing 9 a.m. You grab your camera bag, sling it over your shoulder, and step outside. Holy shit, it’s a different world. After yesterday’s apocalyptic downpour, the sun’s out, blazing in a sky so blue it looks photoshopped. The lake sparkles, all glassy and calm, and the air’s crisp but not freezing, a perfect late-morning vibe. You’re still marveling at it when a loud whoop cuts through the silence, followed by a splash.
Your head snaps toward the pier, and there’s Miyeon, mid-air, cannonballing into the water with a scream that’s half-laugh, half-battle cry. She’s in a red swimsuit, bright against the lake, and as she surfaces, shaking wet hair out of her face, you spot Sana on the pier, waving at you in a pink bikini that hugs her curves just right. They’re both stupidly gorgeous, and for a second, you’re just standing there, camera dangling, brain short-circuiting. Miyeon’s got a little more thickness to her—medium, perky breasts filling out that swimsuit top, a round ass that’s damn near hypnotizing as she climbs back onto the pier. Sana’s slimmer, all sleek lines and subtle curves, the bikini showing off her tiny waist and long legs. You snap out of it when they call you over, Miyeon’s voice carrying: “Yo, camera guy! Get your ass down here!”
You jog over, grinning as you hit the pier’s edge. “Morning, ladies,” you say, shielding your eyes from the sun. “You two look way too chipper after last night.”
“Slept like babies,” Miyeon says, wringing water out of her hair, droplets splattering the wood. “Your place is cozy as hell. How’d you hold up on that couch?”
“Good enough,” you say, shrugging. “Woke up to breakfast, though—that was clutch. Thanks for that.”
Sana beams, sitting cross-legged on the pier, her pink bikini practically glowing in the sunlight. “I made it. Miyeon can’t cook for shit, so I took over.”
“Facts,” Miyeon says, not even arguing. “She’s a wizard in the kitchen. That bacon? Her doing. I’d burn the house down trying.”
“Shit, well, it was awesome,” you say, nodding at Sana. “Seriously, thank you. Didn’t expect the VIP treatment.”
Sana blushes a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No biggie. Least we could do.”
Miyeon flops onto her back, stretching out like a cat in the sun. “Weather’s fuckin’ perfect today. Checked the forecast—sunny all day, but there’s another cold front rolling in tomorrow. Gotta soak this up while we can.” She props up on her elbows, eyeing you. “Come swim with us, dude. Water’s not even that cold.”
“Yeah, join us!” Sana chimes in, standing up and tugging at your arm. They’re both at it now, pulling you toward the edge, their wet hands slippery on your hoodie. Miyeon’s got that mischievous grin, and Sana’s giggling like she’s in on the plot.
You laugh, but it’s nervous, your feet planted. “Nah, I’ve got plans—gonna hike around, shoot some nature stuff. You know, trees, birds, all that shit.”
Miyeon sits up, crossing her arms under her chest, which—fuck, that swimsuit’s doing work. “Bro, we’re nature. Take pics of us instead. Way prettier than some random-ass tree.”
You smirk, caught off guard but not mad about it. “Can’t argue that. Alright, fine—photo shoot it is.”
Sana claps, bouncing a little. “Yes! These swimsuits are new, too. Gotta show ‘em off. Right, Miyeon?”
“Hell yeah,” Miyeon says, hopping to her feet. “Red’s my color, and pink’s hers. Perfect combo.”
You sling your camera out, adjusting the settings quick—bright sun, sharp focus. They start posing, and it’s like they were born for this. Miyeon’s all bold energy, leaning forward with a flirty smirk, then turning to show off that ass, one hand on her hip. Sana’s softer, tilting her head, letting her hair spill over her shoulder, giving you these quiet, sultry looks that hit harder than they should. Then they get together—arms around each other, laughing, pressing close like the girlfriends they are. Miyeon pulls Sana in for a playful kiss on the cheek, and Sana squeals, shoving her off, but they’re both cracking up. You’re snapping away, the shutter clicking like crazy, and every shot’s a banger—sunlight glinting off their skin, the lake shimmering behind them.
“Check these out,” you say, flipping the camera around. They crowd in, still dripping, Miyeon’s arm brushing yours as they ooh and ahh over the screen. “Holy shit, we look hot,” Miyeon says, zooming in on one where she’s tossing her hair back mid-laugh. Sana nods, pointing at another. “That one’s my favorite. The light’s perfect.”
“Glad you like ‘em,” you say, pocketing the camera. “I’ll send ‘em later with yesterday's photos.”
“Sweet,” Miyeon says, then glances at the lake. “You sure you won’t swim? Last chance before it’s all cold and shitty again.”
“Nah, I’m good,” you say, stepping back. “Gonna roam around, get some shots of the woods. Plus, I’ll swing by the city later—grab that fuel line part for your generator and fix it up.”
Sana’s eyes widen. “Wait, for real? You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s nothing,” you say, waving it off. “Hardware store’s not far, and I’ve got the tools. Beats you guys sitting in the dark again.”
Miyeon grins, big and genuine. “Dude, you’re too nice. Like, suspiciously nice. What’s your angle?”
You laugh. “No angle. Just don’t wanna see you stuck. Plus, I’m bored out here—gives me something to do.”
“Well, we owe you big time,” Sana says, hugging herself as a breeze kicks up. “Oh—can we charge our phones at your place? They’re basically dead, and we’ve got no juice over there.”
“Yeah, no problem,” you say, nodding toward your house. “Plenty of outlets. Leave ‘em as long as you need.”
“Sweet, thanks,” Miyeon says, already heading back to the pier’s edge. “We’ll catch you later then—drinks tonight, right?”
“Bet,” you say, giving them a mock salute. “Enjoy the sun, ladies.”
They wave as you head off, Miyeon shouting, “Don’t get lost in the woods, camera guy!” before cannonballing back into the water with another splash. You shake your head, smirking, and start down the path toward the trees, camera in hand. The day’s wide open, the girls are vibing, and you’ve got a solid plan—photos now, hero shit later, drinks to cap it off.
Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.
—
The sun’s dipping low now, painting the sky in lazy streaks of orange and pink as you roll back up to the lake house in your SUV. The gravel crunches under the tires, and you kill the engine, grabbing the plastic bag from the passenger seat—inside’s the new fuel line you snagged from the hardware store in town, plus a couple bags of chips, some salsa, and a pack of those sour gummy worms Miyeon seemed like she’d vibe with. You step out, the air cooler now that the afternoon’s winding down, and spot the girls on your porch, sprawled out like they’ve claimed the place.
Miyeon’s lounging in one of the wooden chairs, legs kicked up on the railing, scrolling her phone with one hand while the other toys with a strand of her damp hair—she’s still in that red swimsuit, a towel draped over her lap. Sana’s cross-legged on the floor next to her, phone plugged into an extension cord snaking through the open window, her pink bikini swapped for a loose tee and shorts. They look up as you approach, Miyeon tossing you a lazy wave while Sana gives a little smile, like they’ve been waiting for you to roll in.
“Yo, I’m back,” you say, holding up the bag. “Got the fuel line. And some snacks for later—figured we’d need something to munch on with the drinks.”
Miyeon drops her feet from the railing, sitting up with a grin. “You’re a fucking legend, dude. I’ll Venmo you later for the part—how much was it?”
“Like, twenty bucks,” you say, shrugging. “No rush.”
Sana tilts her head, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You sure you don’t need help with the generator? I’m useless with that stuff, but I can, like, hold a flashlight or something.”
“Nah, I got it,” you say, slinging your camera bag off your shoulder and setting it by the door. “Watched a couple YouTube vids earlier—think I can handle it solo. You guys just chill here.”
Miyeon laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, good call. We’d probably just fuck it up worse. I don’t even know what a fuel line is.”
“Same,” Sana adds, giggling. “You’re on your own, hero.”
“Cool,” you say, grabbing the bag with the part and heading off. “I’ll trek over there and sort it out. Be back in a bit.”
You make the short walk around the lake, the last of the sunlight glinting off the water, your boots sinking slightly into the still-damp ground. Their house looks less ominous now, just a quiet two-story sitting there in the evening glow. You head to the shed out back, popping it open with a creak, and there’s the generator—same sad, silent hunk of metal from last night. You drop to your knees, fishing the new fuel line out of the bag, and get to work.
The YouTube tutorials you skimmed earlier play back in your head—some dude with a thick accent walking through the steps like it’s no big deal. First, you kill the fuel switch, making sure no gas is leaking out, then unhook the old line—cracked and crusty, just like you thought. A little diesel dribbles onto your hands, stinking like hell, but you wipe it on your jeans and keep going. The new line’s a perfect fit, sliding into place with a satisfying click. You tighten the clamps with a screwdriver from their toolbox, double-checking everything’s snug. Then it’s just a matter of priming the fuel pump—couple quick pumps like the guy said—and flipping the switch. The generator sputters once, twice, then roars to life, a steady hum kicking in. You stand back, grinning like an idiot. Fixed. Lights flicker on in the house behind you, and you give yourself a mental high-five—DIY king shit.
You trudge back to your place, wiping your greasy hands on a rag you snagged from their shed. The girls spot you coming and perk up—Miyeon’s on her feet, Miyeon swapped her swimsuit for shorts and a tank top. Sana’s leaning forward, both of them looking hopeful. “Well?” Miyeon calls out, arms crossed.
“Done,” you say, tossing the rag onto the porch steps. “Generator’s purring like a kitten. You’ve got power again.”
Sana lets out this big, relieved sigh, clutching her phone to her chest. “Oh my God, thank you. I was legit stressed about that.”
Miyeon whoops, bounding over and throwing her arms around you in a quick, tight hug. “Dude, you’re the best! I owe you more than twenty bucks for this.”
You laugh, patting her back before she pulls away. “Nah, just keep the drinks flowing tonight, and we’re square.”
“Deal,” Sana says, standing up now, her whole vibe brighter. “Speaking of, let’s crack those beers. I’m way happier now that we’re not, like, pioneer women anymore.”
“Bet,” you say, heading inside to drop the snacks on the kitchen counter. The girls follow, Miyeon raiding your fridge for the beers while Sana digs into the chip bag already. You grab a deck of cards from a drawer, flipping it in your hand. “You guys play cards?”
Miyeon pops a beer open, foam hissing as she takes a sip. “I do. Poker, blackjack, whatever. I’m decent.”
Sana shrugs, munching a chip. “I’ve never played. Like, ever. I don’t even know the rules.”
“No shit?” you say, pulling out a chair at the table and motioning them over. “Alright, I’ll teach you. Easy stuff—let’s start with blackjack. You’ll pick it up quick.”
They settle in, Miyeon plopping down across from you with her beer, Sana sliding into the seat next to her, still clutching the chip bag like it’s a security blanket. You shuffle the deck, the cards snapping under your fingers, and deal out the first hand—two cards each. “Goal’s simple,” you say, tossing yourself a jack and a five. “Get as close to twenty-one as you can without going over. Face cards are ten, aces are one or eleven, whatever you need. You want another card, you say ‘hit.’ You’re good, you ‘stay.’ Bust, you lose.”
Sana stares at her cards—a seven and a three—furrowing her brow like it’s a math test. “Okay… hit?”
You flick her a nine, and she gasps. “Shit, that’s nineteen! I stay, right?”
“Yeah, smart call,” you say, grinning. “Miyeon?”
She’s got a queen and a four, smirking like she’s already won. “Hit.” You deal her a six—twenty. “Stay,” she says, leaning back with a cocky tilt to her head.
You flip your second card—a nine. “Dealer’s got nineteen,” you say, checking the deck. “Sana, you’re good. Miyeon wins, though—twenty’s closer.”
“Fuck yeah,” Miyeon says, fist-pumping. “Told you I’m good.”
Sana pouts, but she’s laughing. “Beginner’s luck doesn’t count, right?”
“Nope,” you say, gathering the cards. “Let’s go again. You’ll get the hang of it.”
The hours slip by like nothing, the table a mess of empty beer cans, crumpled chip bags, and a half-eaten pile of gummy worms stuck to the salsa lid. The cards are long forgotten, scattered across the table from your last sloppy round of blackjack—Sana kept busting and blaming the “stupid rules,” while Miyeon was raking in wins like she’d been hustling casinos her whole life. The drinks keep flowing, whiskey now in the mix, poured into mismatched mugs because you ran out of clean glasses. The room’s warm, a little hazy, the heater still chugging along as the night deepens outside, but there are no more stars in the sky, and you already know what's coming.
You’re slouched in your chair, one leg kicked up on the empty seat next to you, feeling the buzz settle into your bones. Across the table, Sana’s climbed into Miyeon’s lap at some point—nobody batted an eye, least of all you. They’re comfy like that, Sana’s head tucked against Miyeon’s shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Miyeon’s arm while Miyeon’s got one hand draped around Sana’s waist, the other nursing her whiskey mug. They’re drunk, giggling messes, and you’re not far behind, the room spinning just enough to make everything funnier than it should be.
“Alright, camera guy,” Miyeon says, her voice a little slurred but still sharp, cutting through the haze. “Spill it. When’s the last time you had a girlfriend? You’re too chill to be single forever.”
You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck, the whiskey loosening your tongue. “Uh, shit, like two years ago? She was cool, but it didn’t stick. Been flying solo since then—works better that way, you know? Just me and my camera, no drama.”
Sana tilts her head, her lips curling into a teasing little smile. “Two years? Damn, you’re basically a monk.”
“Monk with a lens,” Miyeon adds, smirking. “Bet you’ve got girls tripping over you and you just don’t notice.”
“Nah,” you say, waving it off, though the compliment lands nice. “I’m good on my own. Relationships are… a lot.”
They exchange a look then—quick, sneaky, like they’re in on some secret. Sana whispers something in Miyeon’s ear, her breath tickling Miyeon’s neck, and Miyeon snickers, her eyes flicking to you. They both start giggling, sloppy and loud, and you lean forward, squinting. “What? What’s so funny?”
Miyeon shakes her head, still laughing. “Nothing, nothing. Just—we’ve got this friend, Shuhua. She’s super chill, loves hiking, nature vibes, all that shit you’re into. You’d hit it off.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sana pipes up, sitting up a little straighter on Miyeon’s lap, her cheeks flushed from the booze. “And Tzuyu too! She’s, like, gorgeous and artsy. Total your type.”
Miyeon nods like it’s settled. “Yeah, Tzuyu’s got that quiet, mysterious thing going. You’d be obsessed.”
You snort, taking a sip of your whiskey, the burn sliding down easy. “What, you two playing matchmaker now? I said I’m good.”
Miyeon’s grin turns mischievous, her eyes glinting under the dim kitchen light. “Okay, fine, but let’s be real for a sec. Between me and Sana—” she tightens her grip on Sana’s waist, making her squirm and giggle—“who’d you pick? Like, if you had to. Be honest.”
Sana’s head snaps up, her face going red. “Miyeon! Don’t ask that, oh my God!” She swats at Miyeon’s hand, but she’s laughing too, hiding her face in Miyeon’s shoulder for a sec before peeking out at you, all shy and curious.
You freeze, the mug halfway to your lips, caught off guard. “Uh… what?” Your voice comes out higher than you mean it to, and you clear your throat, trying to play it cool. “I don’t—I mean, I can’t just… pick. I don’t know.”
Miyeon’s eyebrows shoot up, and she leans forward, dragging Sana with her. “Oh, come on! You’re dodging. You totally know, you’re just too chicken to say it.”
“Am not,” you shoot back, but your face is heating up, and the whiskey’s not helping. You glance between them—Miyeon’s got that bold, flirty edge, all confidence and heat, her lips quirked like she’s daring you to say something stupid. Sana’s softer, her blush spreading, but there’s this spark in her eyes now, playful and warm, like she’s testing you too. They’re both ridiculous, and it’s doing shit to your head.
“So what I’m hearing,” Miyeon says, dragging the words out, “is you’d take both of us. Greedy bastard.”
“What—no!” you sputter, nearly choking on your drink. “That’s not what I said! You’re twisting it!”
Sana bursts out laughing, her whole body shaking against Miyeon. “Oh my God, you’re so greedy! Wanting us both, huh?”
“Fuck off, I didn’t say that,” you protest, but you’re laughing too, the absurdity of it hitting you all at once. “You two are wasted. I’m not even dignifying this.”
Miyeon grins wider, leaning closer across the table, her voice dropping low and teasing. “Oh, please. You couldn’t handle us anyway. We’re a lot, you know. High maintenance.”
Sana nods, mock-serious. “So much work. You’d be crying in a week.”
“Yeah, right,” you fire back, the whiskey buzzing through you now, making you bold. “I’d keep up. You’d be the ones begging for a break.”
Miyeon’s eyes widen, and she lets out a loud, “Ooooh!” Sana gasps, covering her mouth, but she’s smiling like crazy behind her hand. “He’s got some fight in him,” Miyeon says, leaning back and fanning herself dramatically. “Sana, you hear that? He thinks he’s tough enough for us.”
“I’m just saying,” you mutter, sinking into your chair, “you’re the ones who’d tap out first.”
Sana giggles, sliding off Miyeon’s lap to grab another beer from the fridge, her shorts riding up as she bends over. She spins back around, popping the cap with a lighter she snagged off the table. “You’re funny,” she says, pointing at you. “And shy as hell right now. Look at you.”
“Shut up,” you say, but you’re grinning, your face burning under their stares. “You’re both too drunk. This convo’s going off the rails—I’m scared of where it’s headed.”
Miyeon laughs, loud and unfiltered, tipping her mug back for the last of her whiskey. “Scared? Good. You should be. We’re trouble, camera guy. Double trouble.”
“Triple, with the drinks,” Sana adds, sliding back onto Miyeon’s lap, beer in hand. She takes a sip, then offers it to Miyeon, who leans in close, their lips brushing for a second as she drinks. It’s casual, natural for them, but it hits you like a punch—subtle, hot, and gone too fast to process.
You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. “Yeah, I’m calling it. You two are a menace. I’m having way too much fun, though.”
“Same,” Sana says, her voice softer now, her head resting on Miyeon’s shoulder again. “You’re cool, you know that?”
“Very cool,” Miyeon agrees, her hand sliding up Sana’s back, casual but possessive. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But don’t think we’re done messing with you.”
You laugh, raising your mug in a mock toast. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Night’s still young, right?”
They clink their drinks against yours, the three of you grinning like idiots, the flirtation simmering under the surface—light, playful, but with an edge that keeps you on your toes. You take a sip of your whiskey, the burn familiar now, and figure it’s your turn to flip the script. “Alright,” you say, setting the mug down with a little thud to get their attention. “You’ve been grilling me about my love life—or lack of it. What about you two? How’d you even end up together?”
Miyeon’s head tilts back as she laughs, her black hair spilling over her shoulders. “Oh, dude, it’s a story. We met at some shitty college party—like, the kind with warm beer and a playlist that’s just Top 40 on repeat. I was trashed, trying to shotgun a can, and Sana was there, all cute and quiet, holding a red cup she wasn’t even drinking from.”
Sana nods, her cheeks already pink from the booze. “She spilled beer all over me trying to show off. I was pissed, but then she started apologizing like a maniac, and… I don’t know, she was funny about it. We just clicked.”
“Clicked, huh?” you say, smirking. “That’s cute. So, what’s the secret? Two and a half years is solid—most people can’t keep a houseplant alive that long.”
Miyeon shrugs, her hand sliding idly up Sana’s back, fingers tracing the hem of her tee. “Dunno. We just vibe. She keeps me from doing dumb shit—like, most of the time—and I make sure she doesn’t stay in her shell forever. Balance, you know?”
“Yeah,” Sana adds, leaning into Miyeon’s touch, her voice soft. “She’s loud and I’m not. Works out.”
You nod, letting the moment settle, then push a little further, keeping it chill. “Ever have any big fights? Like, the kind where you’re slamming doors or sleeping on the couch?”
Sana giggles, shaking her head. “Not really. We argue sometimes—stupid stuff, like who forgot to buy milk—but Miyeon’s too lazy to storm out, and I hate sleeping alone.”
“Facts,” Miyeon says, grinning. “I’d rather just bitch for five minutes and then make out. Way easier.”
You laugh, the image of them bickering-then-kissing too good to not picture. “Smart move. Alright, let’s level up—any exes still lurking around? Old flames trying to slide back in?”
Miyeon’s eyes narrow playfully, like she’s onto your game, but she answers anyway. “Couple of mine tried. Dudes mostly—had a few boyfriends before Sana. They’d hit me up like, ‘Oh, you’re with a girl now? That’s hot.’ Blocked them so fast. Sana’s exes are too scared of me to try anything.”
Sana snorts, nudging Miyeon’s shoulder. “You’re not that scary. They’re just… I don’t know, they’re all girls anyway. Nobody’s dumb enough to mess with us now.”
“Fair,” you say, leaning forward, resting your elbows on the table. The whiskey’s got your tongue loose, and the vibe’s right, so you nudge the questions up a notch—still smooth, but with a little heat. “So, Miyeon, you’ve dated guys before, right? Sana—you ever been with one? Like, ever?”
They glance at each other quick, a flicker of something passing between them—Sana’s blush deepens, and Miyeon’s grin turns sly. “Me? Yeah,” Miyeon says, casual as hell. “I’m bi—guys, girls, whatever. If they’re hot and fun, I’m down. Dated a couple dudes before I figured out I liked girls just as much. No big deal.”
Sana shifts on Miyeon’s lap, her fingers tightening around her beer bottle. “I… no. Never been with a guy. Always just girls for me.” Her voice is quieter, a little shy, but she doesn’t look away.
Miyeon tilts her head, resting her chin on Sana’s shoulder, her eyes locked on you now. “She’s curious, though,” she says, dropping it like a bomb, her tone teasing but deliberate. “Always has been. Right, babe?”
Sana’s face flares red, and she swats at Miyeon’s arm, flustered. “Miyeon! Shut up, oh my God!” She buries her face in her hands for a sec, then peeks out, still giggling despite herself. “I mean… yeah, okay, I’ve thought about it. Like, wondered what it’d be like. But that’s it. Closest I’ve gotten is—” She stops, biting her lip, and Miyeon finishes for her.
“The strap,” Miyeon says, smirking like she’s proud of it. “I’ve got this one that’s, uh, pretty realistic. She loves it, but it’s still not the real deal, you know?”
Sana groans, dropping her forehead onto Miyeon’s shoulder. “You’re the worst. Why do you say shit like that?”
You laugh, holding up your hands. “Hey, no judgment here. We’re all adults—shit gets spicy sometimes. Sounds like you’ve got it figured out anyway.”
Miyeon’s still watching you, her smirk softening into something sharper, more curious. Sana lifts her head, her embarrassment fading into a playful little pout as she takes a swig of her beer. “Okay, but why’re you asking?” she says, her tone turning provocative, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “You digging for details, huh? What’s your deal?”
You freeze for a sec, caught off guard, the whiskey making your brain a little slow to catch up. “What? Nah, I’m just—curious, I guess. Making conversation. That’s all.”
Miyeon’s not buying it, her head tilting like she’s sizing you up. “Bullshit. You’re interested. I can see it. All these questions—you’re fishing for something, aren’t you?”
“Fishing?” you say, leaning back, trying to play it cool but feeling the heat creeping up your neck. “Come on, I’m just chilling. Anyone stuck out here with you two would be asking the same shit. You’re the only entertainment I’ve got.”
Sana giggles, her pout turning into a grin as she leans forward, elbows on the table now, her chin in her hands. “Oh, so we’re entertainment? That’s your excuse?”
“Yeah, exactly,” you say, grinning back, the tension easing but still simmering under the surface. “Two hot girls, drunk and spilling secrets? Who wouldn’t be into that?”
Miyeon laughs, loud and bright, tipping her head back. “Fair. You’ve got a point. We are hot.” She nudges Sana, who’s still blushing but clearly loving the vibe. “He’s not wrong, babe.”
“Still,” Sana says, her voice softer but with a teasing edge, “you’re digging pretty deep. What’s next, you gonna ask our favorite positions or something?”
You choke on your whiskey, coughing into your fist as Miyeon cackles. “Jesus, no,” you manage, wiping your mouth. “I’m not that drunk. Yet.”
“Yet,” Miyeon echoes, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Give it an hour. We’ll get you there.”
The room’s buzzing now, the flirtation weaving through the air like a quiet current—nothing overt, but it’s there, subtle and growing. You take another sip, letting it burn, and lean back in your chair, meeting Miyeon’s gaze for a second longer than you should. Sana’s watching too, her smile small but knowing, like she’s in on the game.
The conversation’s still humming along, the whiskey keeping the edges soft and the laughter loud. You’re mid-sentence, riffing on some dumb story about a camping trip gone wrong years ago, when a faint patter hits the deck outside. At first, you think it’s just the wind kicking up, but then it gets louder, steadier—rain, drumming hard against the wood. The temperature drops fast, a chill sneaking through the open window, cutting through the cozy haze of the kitchen. Miyeon shivers, rubbing her bare arms, and Sana pulls her tee tighter around herself, her beer bottle clinking against the table as she sets it down.
“Shit, there it goes again,” you say, standing up to slide the window shut. The cold’s biting now, the kind that makes your breath fog indoors if you’re not careful. “The couch is calling us.”
They nod, grabbing their drinks and stumbling after you, a little wobbly from the booze. You flick on the living room lamp, its warm glow spilling over the plush couch and the throw blankets piled on the armrest. The fireplace is out, but the heater’s still doing its thing, and the room feels like a bubble against the storm outside. You flop into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked under you, the whiskey mug warm in your hands. Miyeon and Sana collapse together on the other end, a tangle of limbs and giggles—Sana’s half-draped over Miyeon, her head lolling against Miyeon’s chest as Miyeon wraps an arm around her.
“Fuck, your place is so warm,” Miyeon sighs, kicking off her flip-flops and pulling her feet up onto the cushions. “Ours would be an icebox right now with that busted generator.”
“Perks of not slacking on maintenance,” you say, smirking as you take a sip. “You’re welcome to crash anytime it shits the bed.”
Sana hums, her eyes half-closed, nestled into Miyeon like she’s ready to doze off. “Good to know. You’re spoiling us.”
The rain’s pounding now, a steady roar against the roof, and for a while, you all just sit there, letting the sound fill the silence. It’s not awkward—more like a breather, the kind where everyone’s too buzzed and content to force more chatter. But then you catch it: the way they’re looking at you. Miyeon’s got this lazy, lidded gaze, her lips parted just enough to show a hint of teeth, and Sana’s peeking up from Miyeon’s chest, her eyes brighter than they should be for how drunk she is. They’re giggling to themselves, quiet little bursts, like they’re sharing some inside joke you’re not in on yet.
You lean back, resting your head against the couch, and glance out at the deck, rain streaking the glass doors. “Getting late,” you say, casual, testing the vibe. “This storm’s not letting up anytime soon.”
Sana stretches, her tee riding up to flash a sliver of stomach, and sits up a little. “Tonight was so fun, though. Way more than we thought it’d be, stuck out here alone.”
“Yeah,” Miyeon agrees, her hand lingering on Sana’s thigh, fingers tracing absent circles. “Didn’t expect to end up with a generator-fixing, blackjack-teaching hero. You’re full of surprises.”
You laugh, shrugging it off, but the compliment sticks. “Glad I could keep you entertained. We can run it back tomorrow—more drinks, more cards, whatever. Weather’s supposed to clear up.”
“Sweet,” Sana says, her voice soft but perky. Then Miyeon shifts, her eyes locking onto yours, and there’s something different in them now—sharper, bolder.
“Fun doesn’t have to end now, though,” she says, slow and deliberate, like she’s dropping a hint she knows you’ll catch.
You tilt your head, playing dumb but feeling the shift. “What’s that mean?”
She smirks, leaning forward just enough to close some distance, her arm sliding behind Sana on the couch. “What’re you doing later? After we’re done sitting here?”
“Uh, sleeping?” you say, half-laughing, though your pulse kicks up a notch. “That’s the plan, anyway.”
Miyeon’s grin widens, and she glances at Sana, who’s biting her lip like she’s holding back a laugh. “Yeah, well, me and Sana—we’re probably gonna fuck,” Miyeon says, blunt as hell, her tone light but her eyes steady on you. “We were supposed to last night, but, you know, generator drama killed the mood. So now we’re kinda pent up. Horny as shit, honestly.”
You choke on your whiskey, coughing into your sleeve as the words hit you like a freight train. “Jesus, warn a guy,” you mutter, wiping your mouth, your face hot. Sana’s giggling now, hiding half her face in Miyeon’s shoulder, but she’s not denying it.
“What?” Miyeon says, all fake innocence, leaning back and pulling Sana closer. “Just being real. You asked.”
“I literally didn't ask anything,” you say, but you’re laughing, the shock mixing with the buzz and turning into something else—something that’s got your stomach tightening.
Sana whispers something into Miyeon’s ear, her voice too low to catch, and Miyeon’s smirk softens into something… hungrier. She looks back at you. “It’s pouring out there,” she says, nodding toward the glass doors, where the rain’s still hammering down in sheets. “We’d get soaked going back. Mind if we crash here tonight?”
“Yeah, of course,” you say, automatic, trying to keep your cool. “The bed is yours, I'm getting used to the couch.”
Sana’s the one who pipes up now, her voice quiet but cutting through the tension. “Sleeping alone in this cold sucks, though. Don’t you think?”
You blink, caught off guard again, your brain scrambling. “Uh… yeah, I guess?”
Miyeon’s watching you close now, her hand sliding up Sana’s back again, possessive but gentle. “What if…” she starts, pausing just long enough to let it sink in, “you joined us? Like, all three of us. Together.”
Your mouth goes dry, the words landing heavy. “Wait, what—like, serious? Or are you just drunk and fucking with me?”
Miyeon doesn’t flinch. She leans forward instead, setting her mug on the table with a soft clink, then turns to Sana. Without breaking eye contact with you, she cups Sana’s face and kisses her—slow, deep, not some quick peck but a real, sensual thing. Lips parted, tongues meeting, the kind of kiss that’s got heat behind it. Sana melts into it, her hands clutching Miyeon’s tank top, and when they pull apart, breathless, they both turn to you. Sana’s flushed, her eyes glassy, and Miyeon’s got this smug, daring look.
“Does that look like we’re fucking with you?” Miyeon says, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
Sana’s quieter, her voice a little shaky but steady enough. “You’re cool. And… kinda hot, honestly. We’ve been talking about it all night.”
“Yeah,” Miyeon adds, leaning into it now, her confidence dialed up. “I wanna see you fuck Sana. Like, I’d be there too—watching, helping, whatever. She’s curious, and I think you’d be perfect for her first time with a guy.”
Your head’s spinning, the room suddenly way too small, the air thick with something you can’t shake. Your dick twitches at the thought—Sana’s soft curves under you, Miyeon’s eyes on you, directing it all. It’s a lot, fast, and your heart’s pounding against your ribs. “Fuck,” you breathe, running a hand through your hair. “You’re not kidding.”
“Nope,” Miyeon says, popping the ‘p’ again, her smirk lethal. “So? What do you say?”
Sana’s staring at you now, bottom lip caught between her teeth, nervous but wanting, and Miyeon’s got that predatory edge, like she’s already decided how this is gonna go. The tension’s a live wire, humming between you, and you’re stuck, half-panicked, half-turned on, trying to process what the hell’s happening as the rain keeps drumming outside.
“Fuck it, I’m up for it.”
Miyeon’s grin stretches wide, victorious, and she slides off the couch, her bare feet hitting the hardwood with a soft thud. “Good answer,” she says, her voice low and sultry, like she’s been waiting for this all night. “Come closer, then.” She beckons you with a curl of her finger, her eyes locked on yours, daring you to hesitate.
You don’t. You push off the couch, the whiskey buzz making your steps feel loose, and cross the small gap to where she’s standing. Up close, she’s all heat and confidence—her tank top clings to her frame, her dark hair messy from the day, and she smells faintly of sunscreen and beer. She steps in, closing the distance, and grabs the front of your hoodie, pulling you down just enough to crash her lips into yours.
It’s sudden, rough, and you’re caught off guard—your hands hover for a split second, unsure where to land, before instinct kicks in. You kiss her back, tentative at first, lips brushing hers, tasting the sharp edge of whiskey and the faintest hint of her chapstick. Then she presses closer, her tongue flicking against your bottom lip, and you’re done holding back. You dive in, deepening the kiss, your hands finding her waist, sliding up the curve of her sides under her tank. Her skin’s warm, smooth, and she lets out this little hum against your mouth that sends a jolt straight down your spine.
Sana’s still on the couch, watching, her breath hitching audibly. You can feel her eyes on you, a quiet intensity in the way she’s perched there—legs tucked under her, hands gripping the blanket like it’s an anchor. Miyeon breaks the kiss for a second, her lips hovering an inch from yours, her breath hot against your skin. She glances over her shoulder at Sana, smirking. “Your turn, babe,” she says, her voice thick with promise.
Sana hesitates, her wide eyes darting between you and Miyeon, but there’s no mistaking the want there, the curiosity flickering behind her nerves. She slides off the couch slow, her bare feet padding across the floor, and stops just in front of you. Up close, she’s smaller than Miyeon—slimmer, softer, her oversized tee swallowing her frame, her shorts barely peeking out. Her lips glisten with gloss, and when she looks up at you, all shy and flushed, makes you breathless.
You don’t wait for her to make the first move. You step in, gentle but sure, cupping her face with one hand, your thumb brushing her cheek. “You good?” you murmur, giving her an out, but she just nods, quick and eager, her breath catching. Then you lean in, and her lips meet yours—soft, plush, addictive as hell. She tastes like gloss and the faint tang of beer, sweet and heady, and it’s different from Miyeon’s fire—slower, more tentative, but just as hungry. You kiss her deeper, letting her melt into it, your free hand settling on her hip, pulling her closer. She sighs into your mouth, a tiny, needy sound that lights you up.
Miyeon’s not sitting this out. She steps in behind Sana, her hands sliding over Sana’s shoulders, then down to her waist, guiding her closer to you. She’s watching, her lips parted, eyes dark with heat. Sana’s still kissing you, lost in it, when Miyeon takes her hand—small, trembling—and moves it, pressing it against the front of your jeans. You’re already hard, straining against the denim, and the second Sana’s fingers brush over you, your breath hitches.
“Fuck,” you mutter against Sana’s lips, and Miyeon laughs, low and throaty.
“Hot, right?” Miyeon says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. She’s pressed up against Sana’s back now, her chin resting on Sana’s shoulder, watching you both like she’s directing this whole show. Sana’s hand trembles, but she doesn’t pull away—she squeezes, hesitant but curious, her warm palm cupping you through the fabric. It’s clumsy, unsure, but that only makes it hotter, the newness of it driving you wild.
“Jesus, this is insane,” you say, pulling back just enough to look at them—Sana’s blushing hard, her eyes wide and dazed, Miyeon’s grinning, all smug and turned on. Sana’s hand stays where it is, her fingers flexing slightly, like she’s testing how you feel, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control not to lose it right there.
Miyeon’s eyes flick down to where Sana’s touching you, then back up to your face. “She’s doing good, huh?” she teases, her hand sliding up Sana’s arm, encouraging her. “But fuck, I’m already soaked just watching this. Let’s take it to your room, yeah? This couch isn’t big enough for what I’ve got in mind.”
Sana finally pulls her hand back, her face half-hidden in Miyeon’s neck, embarrassed but buzzing with excitement. You nod, still half-dazed, the reality of it sinking in. “Yeah… yeah, let’s go,” you say, voice rough, your heart hammering as you lead the way.
The hallway’s a blur, your footsteps heavy, their bare feet padding behind you. You push open your bedroom door—messy bed, clothes tossed on the chair, the faint glow of a lamp in the corner—and step inside, the air cooler here but still thick with tension. You turn to face them, Miyeon moves first, her fingers hooking under the hem of her tank top. She peels it off slow, deliberate, letting it slide up her torso, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach, then the curve of her ribs, before tugging it over her head and tossing it aside. Her black bra clings to her, lacy and thin, her medium, perky breasts straining against it—she’s all confidence, hips cocked, watching your reaction.
Sana’s shyer, her hands trembling just a little as she grabs the bottom of her oversized tee. She lifts it up, inch by inch, revealing her slim waist, the faint dip of her navel, then higher until the pink bra comes into view—simple but cute, hugging her slighter, curvier frame. She hesitates for a second before pulling the shirt all the way off, her brown hair tumbling back over her shoulders, and when she drops it to the floor, she’s blushing hard but smiling, caught up in the moment.
They kick off their shorts next—Miyeon’s denim cutoffs hit the ground with a soft thud, leaving her in matching black panties that sit low on her hips, showing off the roundness of her ass. Sana’s shorts slide down her legs slower, pooling at her ankles, and she steps out, her pink panties a soft contrast to Miyeon’s darker set, clinging to her narrower hips. Standing there in just bras and panties, they’re a fucking vision—Miyeon’s thicker, all curves and bold energy, Sana’s slimmer but still lush, her skin glowing in the low light. It’s almost too much, the way they move together, like they’re perfectly in sync even now.
Miyeon steps forward, her bare feet silent on the hardwood, and nods at Sana. “You take the hoodie,” she says, her voice low and husky, thick with intent. “I’ve got the pants.”
Sana moves in, her hands tentative but eager, reaching for the hem of your hoodie. Her fingers brush your stomach as she lifts it, her touch light, almost ticklish, and you raise your arms to help her. She pulls it up and over, her breath catching as she gets a good look at your chest, her eyes flicking up to yours—nervous, excited, a little overwhelmed. The hoodie drops to the floor, and she steps back, biting her lip, like she’s sizing you up.
Miyeon’s not wasting time. She’s already at your waist, her hands deft and sure as she pops the button on your jeans. The zipper comes down with a quick, sharp sound, and she tugs them down, past your hips, letting them pool at your ankles. Her fingers hook into the waistband of your boxers next, and with one smooth pull, those are gone too, sliding down your legs until you’re bare in front of them. She’s kneeling now, right between your thighs as you sit back on the edge of the bed, her movements all purpose and hunger, no hesitation.
Sana joins her, dropping to her knees beside Miyeon, her eyes wide and fixed on your cock—hard, thick, standing up proud. It’s the first one she’s seen up close, and you can tell it’s hitting her all at once. “Holy shit,” she whispers, almost to herself, her hand hovering like she’s not sure what to do with it yet.
Miyeon’s already on it, her fingers wrapping around the base, stroking slow and light, her thumb brushing the underside. “Go on,” she says, glancing at Sana with a smirk. “Touch it.”
Sana reaches out, her small hand trembling just a bit as she lays it over Miyeon’s, following her lead. Her fingers slide up, tentative, tracing the shaft, feeling the weight of it—the heat. She runs her thumb over the tip, where a bead of precum’s already leaking out, and her breath hitches again. “It’s… big,” she says, her voice soft, awed. “And, like… really hot.”
You groan low in your throat, the sound slipping out as their hands work together—Sana’s delicate, curious grip mixing with Miyeon’s firmer, more practiced strokes. Your cock’s throbbing now, pulsing under their touch, and it’s driving you fucking insane. Sana’s fingers wander lower, brushing over the veins, then down to your balls, cupping them gently, rolling them in her palm like she’s figuring it all out. “This is wild,” she mutters, half-laughing, her eyes flicking up to yours for a second before darting back down.
“What do you think?” Miyeon asks her, her voice teasing but edged with her own arousal. She’s watching Sana explore, her own hand still moving, keeping the rhythm steady.
Sana bites her lip, her cheeks flushed deep red. “It’s… I don’t know, it’s kinda crazy how much I like it,” she admits, her fingers tightening slightly, testing the give. “Feels alive or something.”
“Fuck, you’re killing me,” you say, your voice rough, your head tipping back for a second as the sensation hits hard. Miyeon chuckles, low and dirty, and leans closer.
“Taste it,” she says, her eyes locked on Sana’s, pushing her just a little. “Go for it.”
Sana freezes, her hand stilling, but the curiosity’s there—bright and burning in her gaze. She leans in slow, hesitant, her breath warm against your skin as she presses a tiny kiss to the tip, barely grazing it. Then another, softer, her lips parting just enough to taste the salt of you. She pulls back, blinking like she’s surprised herself, then goes again—small licks this time, her tongue darting out, testing the waters. It’s clumsy, unsure, but the heat of her mouth, the wet flick of her tongue—it’s fucking electric.
Miyeon’s watching, her own breath ragged now, her hand slipping away to let Sana take over. “Good, right?” she murmurs, her voice thick. “Keep going.”
Sana gains confidence, her lips closing around the head, sucking gently—experimental, like she’s figuring out how it feels. Her tongue swirls once, twice, and you groan again, louder, your hands gripping the sheets to keep from grabbing her head and guiding her yourself. She pulls back, a thin string of spit connecting her lips to you, and looks up, dazed but grinning. “Okay, yeah,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s… a lot.”
Miyeon laughs, shifting to kneel closer, her shoulder brushing Sana’s. “Told you it’s hot. You’re doing good, babe.” She glances at you, her eyes dark. “He’s loving this shit.”
You nod, breathless, the sight of them there—half-naked, on their knees, Sana’s shy exploration and Miyeon’s hungry stare—burning into your brain.
Miyeon’s got your cock in her hand, her grip firm but teasing, her fingers curling around the base as she angles it toward Sana. “Go on, babe,” she says, her voice a low purr, her eyes flicking up to meet yours—dark, horny, locked in. “He’s all yours.”
Sana’s determination’s kicking in, the shy edge melting away as she leans forward. Her lips part, soft and wet, and she takes you in again—slower this time, more deliberate. The taste’s sinking into her now, the salt and heat, and you can see it in her eyes—she’s getting hooked. Her tongue flattens against the underside, sliding up, then curling around the tip, and you groan, low and rough, your head tipping back for a split second before you snap it forward again to watch. Miyeon’s staring too, her lips parted, her breath coming faster—she’s as turned on as you are, her thighs pressing together like she’s already feeling it.
Sana pushes further, her lips stretching around you, trying to take more. She slides down, her throat tightening, and then—she gags, a little choke that jerks her back. Her eyes water, and she pulls off, coughing into her hand, a flush creeping up her neck.
“Easy, babe,” Miyeon says, her tone soft but firm, one hand rubbing Sana’s back while the other still holds you steady. “Don’t rush it. Breathe.” She brushes Sana’s hair out of her face, gentle but with that edge of control—she’s done this before, knows the game.
Sana nods, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, catching her breath. “Okay,” she rasps, her voice shaky but eager. “I’m good.”
Miyeon smirks, then shifts her gaze to you. “My turn,” she says, and there’s no hesitation—she’s all in, sliding down to take Sana’s place. Her mouth’s on you in a heartbeat, hot and wet, her tongue moving like she’s mapped you out already. She’s not shy, not slow—she takes you deep right off the bat, her lips sealing tight as she sucks, hard and deliberate. Her hand works what her mouth can’t reach, stroking in sync, slick and fast. You groan louder, your hips twitching, and she hums around you, the vibration hitting you like a fucking freight train.
Sana’s watching, wide-eyed, her embarrassment replaced by something else—amazement, maybe a little envy. She’s seeing a side of Miyeon she didn’t know existed, this confident, dirty edge that’s got her girlfriend deep-throating you like it’s nothing. Miyeon’s eyes flick up to yours, locked in as she bobs her head, her cheeks hollowing out, spit slicking her lips. She pulls off slow, dragging her tongue along the underside one last time, leaving you dripping—your cock’s a mess now, glistening with her spit, throbbing hard.
“Wet enough for you, babe,” Miyeon says, wiping her chin with a smirk, her voice thick with pride. She glances at Sana, who’s still staring, her breath uneven. “Ready?”
They both stand, peeling off the last of their clothes with a slow, teasing grace that’s almost cruel. Miyeon unhooks her bra first, letting it fall to the floor—her breasts bounce free, full and perky, nipples already hard in the cool air. She shimmies out of her black panties next, kicking them aside, and she’s stark naked now, all smooth skin and curves, thick in the right places. Sana follows, quieter, her fingers fumbling with her bra clasp until it snaps open—her breasts are smaller, softer, but perfect, her nipples a faint pink that matches her blush. She slides her panties down her legs, stepping out delicately, and when they’re both bare in front of you, it’s like every dirty dream you’ve ever had coming to life.
Miyeon twirls once, playful but deliberate, her ass jiggling just enough to make your mouth dry. “What do you think?” she asks, hands on her hips, her voice dripping with that cocky flirtation she’s mastered. Sana spins too, a little clumsier, her hair swinging as she laughs through her nerves.
“Fuck,” you say, the word slipping out before you can stop it. “You’re the hottest girls I’ve ever seen. No contest.”
They grin—Miyeon smug, Sana shy—and climb onto the bed. The mattress dips under their weight, the sheets rustling as Sana lies back, stretching out on her back, her head resting on the pillows. Her legs part slightly, not blatant but enough to draw your eye, her body a soft, inviting curve against the dark fabric. Miyeon slides in beside her, propping herself up on one elbow, her naked body pressed close to Sana’s—her hand rests on Sana’s stomach, casual but possessive, her fingers splaying out like she’s staking a claim.
The rain’s still hammering outside, a dull roar that only amps up the tension in here. You’re sitting at the foot of the bed, cock still hard and slick from their mouths, and the way they’re looking at you—Sana’s nervous excitement, Miyeon’s hungry confidence—it’s like they’re pulling you in without even moving.
You’re kneeling between Sana’s legs now, her thighs soft and trembling under your hands, her skin flushed pink from the booze and the buildup. She’s sprawled out beneath you, her chest rising and falling fast, her eyes locked on yours—wide, nervous, but burning with want.
You pause, reality cutting through the haze for a second, and clear your throat. “Uh, shit—girls, I don’t have a condom,” you say, voice rough, a little sheepish. “Wasn’t exactly planning on… this when I booked the lake house.”
Miyeon smirks, unfazed, her fingers tracing lazy circles on Sana’s skin. “It’s fine,” she says, her tone smooth, deliberate. “She needs to feel you—like, really feel you. No rubber bullshit. Right, babe?” She glances at Sana, squeezing her breast gently, her thumb brushing over a nipple that’s already pebbled and sensitive.
Sana bites her lip, her breath hitching, but she nods—small at first, then firmer. “Yeah… I want that,” she whispers, her voice shaky but sure, her eyes flicking down to where your cock’s resting against her thigh, hard and leaking. “I’ve never… you know. I wanna know what it’s like.”
You swallow hard, the weight of it hitting you—Sana’s first time with a guy, and it’s you, bare, with Miyeon watching, guiding. It’s a fucking rush, equal parts thrilling and insane. “Alright,” you say, voice low, steadying yourself. “I’ll go slow. Promise.”
Miyeon leans in, her lips brushing Sana’s in a kiss that’s soft but deep, all tongue and tenderness, her hand kneading Sana’s breast harder now, rolling the nipple between her fingers. Sana moans into it, her body arching slightly, and you take that as your cue. You shift, lining yourself up, the tip of your cock brushing her entrance—she’s soaked, slick from everything before, her folds glistening in the dim light. You press forward just enough to part her, the head nudging inside, and Sana gasps, her mouth breaking away from Miyeon’s, her hands clutching the sheets.
“Fuck,” she breathes, her eyes squeezing shut for a second, then fluttering open to look at you. It’s tight—hot, wet and tight as hell—and you freeze, letting her adjust, feeling her walls clench around you like they’re figuring you out.
“Slow,” Miyeon murmurs, her voice a soft command, her eyes flicking to yours. “Don’t hurt her, okay? She’s my girl.” There’s that edge of possession in her tone, but it’s laced with something romantic, something deep—she’s sharing Sana with you, but it’s all love, all care, and it’s fucking hot how she balances both.
“I got her,” you say, your hands sliding to Sana’s hips, gripping her gently, keeping her steady. “You good?” you ask, checking in, your voice tight with how bad you want to move.
Sana nods, her lips parting. “Yeah… keep going.”
You ease in, slow as fuck, inch by inch, watching her face—her brows furrow a little, her mouth opens wider, and then she sighs, a long, shaky sound that’s pure relief mixed with want. She’s so tight it’s unreal, her heat wrapping you, pulling you in, and you’re halfway there when she tenses, her thighs squeezing your hips. You stop, breathing hard, your fingers digging into her skin just enough to hold her still.
“Tell me when,” you say, your control hanging by a thread, the way Miyeon’s watching you both—eyes dark, lips wet—only making it worse.
Sana exhales, nodding again. “Now… more.”
You push deeper, careful but steady, until you’re all the way in, buried to the hilt, her walls fluttering around you like a fucking heartbeat. She’s full of you now, and you can feel it—every twitch, every pulse—and it’s driving you nuts. Sana’s head tips back, a low moan slipping out, and Miyeon’s right there, kissing her neck, whispering something soft you can’t catch, her hand still working Sana’s breast like she’s coaxing her through it.
“Goddamn,” you mutter, your voice breaking, because this—Miyeon giving her girl to you, Sana taking you raw, the love and the lust all twisted up—is some next-level shit. “You feel… fuck, unreal.”
Miyeon smirks at you, her hand sliding down Sana’s stomach now, teasing just above where you’re connected. “She’s perfect, right?” she says, then leans into Sana’s ear. “You like him inside you, babe?”
Sana whimpers, nodding fast. “Yeah… so much,” she breathes, her hips shifting like she’s testing the feel of you, and that’s all it takes—you start moving, slow pulls back, gentle thrusts in, letting her get used to it. Her moans are quiet at first, little gasps and sighs, but they build fast, her body responding, her legs spreading wider.
Miyeon’s eyes are on you now, hot and approving. “Faster,” she says, her voice cutting through the haze. “She can take it. Give it to her harder.”
You hesitate for a second, checking Sana’s face—she’s nodding, her hands reaching for your arms, pulling you closer—so you pick up the pace, thrusting deeper, the bed creaking under you. Sana’s moans turn sharp, her nails digging into your forearms, and Miyeon’s right there, kissing her through it, her hand slipping between Sana’s legs, fingers brushing her clit to push her higher.
“Fuck, yes,” Sana gasps, her voice trembling, her walls clenching tighter around you with every stroke. “Don’t stop.”
You don’t—can’t—your hips snapping harder now, the wet sound of skin on skin mixing with the rain outside, filthy and raw. Miyeon’s watching you like you’re putting on a show just for her, her lips parted, her breathing ragged, and it’s that—her gaze, Sana’s tight heat, the whole damn scene—that’s got you teetering on the edge already, every thrust pulling you deeper into the madness of it.
You’re buried deep in Sana, your hips driving into her with a steady, hard rhythm that’s got the headboard tapping the wall like a metronome. Her moans are loud now—sharp, desperate little cries that fill the room, her thin frame trembling beneath you. She’s so tight it’s unreal, her walls gripping you like a vise, slick and hot, pulling you in deeper with every thrust. You’ve got her legs spread wide, one hand hooked under her knee, holding her open, the other braced on the mattress as you lean into her.
Miyeon’s right there beside her, naked and sprawled out, her hand slipping between her own thighs. She’s touching herself, slow at first, her fingers circling her clit as she watches you fuck her girlfriend. Her eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, her breathing ragged—she’s so turned on it’s obscene, and she doesn’t hold back with the dirty talk. “Fuck, babe,” she says, her voice husky, glancing at Sana. “Is his cock better than my strap? Tell me.”
Sana’s head jerks back, a loud moan ripping from her throat as you hit a deep spot. “Yes—fuck, yes,” she gasps, her nails clawing at your arms, leaving little crescent marks. “So much better… it’s so fucking good.”
That’s like rocket fuel to you. You grin, sweat beading down your forehead, and double down, your thrusts picking up speed, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room. Miyeon’s fingers move faster too, her other hand gripping the sheets as she watches, her pride flaring up. “Hear that?” she says, locking eyes with you, her voice dripping with heat. “You loving this? Fucking my girl senseless?”
“Shit, yeah,” you groan, your breath ragged, your cock throbbing inside Sana’s tight heat. “She’s so fucking tight, Miyeon. Like—Jesus, I can barely think straight.”
Miyeon smirks, smug and horny all at once, her fingers plunging into herself now, matching your pace. “Proud of her,” she purrs, her gaze flicking between your face and where you’re disappearing into Sana. “Bet you’d kill to feel that pussy all the time, huh? So hot, so tight, those sweet little moans—she’s a goddamn dream, right?”
You can’t even form words, just a low, needy moan that’s half-agreement, half-losing-your-shit. Sana’s whimpering now, her body rocking with every thrust, her skinny frame so delicate you can see the faint bulge of your cock stretching her out, pressing against her flat stomach. Miyeon’s mesmerized by it, her eyes glued to the sight, her own moans mixing with Sana’s as she fucks herself harder.
“Ruin her,” Miyeon says suddenly, her voice sharp, commanding, her fingers slick and fast. “Fucking pound that tight little pussy. She can take it.”
You go all out, pounding into Sana now, her skinny frame jolting beneath you with every thrust, her legs splayed wide—knees hooked over your arms, her pussy open and vulnerable, taking you deep. She’s a mess, her brown hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, her cheeks flushed a wild, desperate pink. Her moans are loud, unrestrained, spilling out in sharp bursts that cut through the steady slap of your hips against hers. You’ve got her pinned, driving hard, her tight little pussy gripping you like it’s trying to strangle your cock—hot, wet, and pulsing with every slam, and her walls are clenching tighter now, her breath hitching, and you can feel it—she’s teetering right on the edge, her body trembling like a live wire about to snap.
“Fuck—fuck, your cock,” Sana gasps, her voice breaking into a raw, filthy moan, her hands clawing at the sheets, ripping at them like she’s losing her goddamn mind. “It’s so fucking good—shit, I love it, I love your cock so much!” Her hips buck up to meet you, sloppy and wild, chasing the friction, her pussy soaking you, dripping down your thighs. She’s unhinged, her words tumbling out fast and dirty, no filter, just pure need. “Harder—fuck me harder, don’t stop, I need it, I fucking need it!”
You growl, the sound ripping from your chest, and give her what she wants—slamming into her with everything you’ve got, your cock stretching her out, hitting that deep, sweet spot that makes her scream. Her whole body locks up, her skinny frame arching off the bed, her tits bouncing with every brutal thrust. “Like that?” you snarl, gripping her hips so hard your fingers leave red marks, pulling her back onto you. “Fucking take it—cum all over this dick, Sana.”
Miyeon’s moaning now, her fingers plunging into her own pussy, her other hand tweaking her nipple as she watches, her voice a low, horny rasp. “Goddamn, babe—look at you,” she says, her eyes glued to where your cock’s disappearing into Sana’s dripping cunt. “You’re losing it—fucking love that cock, don’t you? So hot, so fucking slutty like this.” She’s panting, her thighs trembling as she fucks herself faster, turned on beyond reason by Sana’s unraveling. “Cum for him—fucking soak that dick, I wanna see it.”
Sana’s eyes roll back, her mouth open in a silent scream that turns into a loud, broken wail as the orgasm hits her like a goddamn freight train. “Fuck—oh fuck, I’m cumming!” she cries, her voice shattering, her pussy clamping down so hard around you it’s almost painful—spasming wildly, gushing wet heat that slicks your cock, her thighs, the sheets. She’s thrashing now, completely out of control, her skinny body jerking like she’s possessed, her hands flying to your arms, nails digging in deep enough to draw blood. “Your cock—shit, I love it, it’s so big, so fucking deep—don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!”
You don’t—can’t—your hips slamming into her harder, faster, riding her through it as her pussy milks you, her cum dripping down your balls, pooling under her ass. She’s screaming, incoherent now—just raw, animal sounds, her head thrashing side to side, her hair sticking to her face. “Yes—fuck yes, keep fucking me—love it, love your cock—fuck!” Her voice is a mess, slurring into sobs, her body shaking uncontrollably, her orgasm stretching out, relentless, like it’s tearing her apart.
Miyeon’s losing her mind watching it, her hand a blur between her legs, her moans turning sharp and desperate. “Holy shit—look at her,” she gasps, her voice thick with lust, her pussy dripping onto the sheets as she rubs herself raw. “She’s cumming so fucking hard—so goddamn sexy, babe, you’re a fucking mess on that dick.” She’s panting, her eyes flicking between Sana’s wrecked face and the bulge of your cock stretching her girlfriend’s flat stomach with every thrust. “Keep going—fuck her stupid, she loves it, look at her fucking cum!”
Sana’s still going, her pussy pulsing like a heartbeat, her moans turning into whimpers as the pleasure overloads her—sensitive, raw, but she’s still pushing back against you, greedy for more. “Please—shit, please, keep fucking me,” she begs, her voice hoarse, trembling, her hands reaching for you like she’s drowning. “Your cock’s so good—so fucking good—I can’t stop cumming!”
You growl again, leaning over her, your chest heaving as you keep up the pace, your cock throbbing inside her, the wet, filthy sound of her pussy taking you over and over driving you wild. “You’re a fucking addict,” you mutter, your voice rough, dripping with heat. “Love this dick so much—cum again, Sana, let me feel that tight little pussy lose it.”
Miyeon’s moaning louder now, her fingers plunging deep, her hips bucking against her own hand. “She’s so fucking hot,” she says, her voice cracking, her eyes wide and wild. “Look at her—cumming like a slut on your cock. Fuck, I’m gonna cum just watching this—keep fucking her, make her scream!”
Sana’s beyond words now—just gasps and cries, her body convulsing, her pussy still spasming around you as the orgasm drags on, relentless, her cum soaking everything—your cock, your hips, the bed. She’s shaking so hard her thighs are quivering, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts, her eyes squeezed shut as she rides the last waves. “Fuck—fuck, I love it,” she whimpers, her voice barely audible, wrecked and raw. “Your cock—shit, it’s everything.”
You slow down, just enough to let her breathe, but you’re still buried deep, her pussy twitching around you, sensitive as hell. Miyeon’s panting, her hand slowing as she watches Sana come down, her own chest heaving. “Jesus Christ,” she mutters, licking her lips, her fingers still slick with her own arousal. “That was fucking insane—she’s never cum like that. You’re a goddamn beast.”
Sana’s eyes flutter open, glassy and dazed, a weak smile tugging at her lips as she looks up at you. “Fuck… that was…” She can’t finish, just shakes her head, her breath still shaky, her body limp beneath you. You pull out slow, your cock slick with her, and she whimpers at the loss, her pussy glistening, fucked-out and dripping with her cum. Miyeon’s still staring, horny and proud, her girlfriend a beautiful, shattered mess—and it’s all because of you.
Then, before you can react, Miyeon’s on you in a heartbeat, her hand wrapping around your shaft, stroking it as she leans in close. “Messy boy,” she teases, then lowers her mouth, licking you clean—long, slow swipes of her tongue that taste Sana all over you. She sucks the tip for a second, pulling a groan from your throat, before pulling back with a wet pop, her lips shiny.
You reach over, giving Miyeon’s ass a firm squeeze—round, perfect, begging for attention. “Your turn now,” you say, voice rough, still riding the high of fucking Sana senseless.
Miyeon grins, wicked and eager, and pushes you back onto the bed with a shove to your chest. You hit the mattress flat on your back, the sheets cool against your skin, your cock standing up hard and ready. “Lie down for me,” she says, climbing over you, her knees straddling your hips. She’s all curves and heat, her pussy already glistening as she hovers above you. Then she turns to Sana, who’s still catching her breath, propped up on her elbows. “Sit on his face, babe,” Miyeon says, her tone playful but firm. “He needs to taste you too—it’s fucking addictive.”
Sana hesitates for a second, still dazed, but the idea lights something in her eyes. She crawls up the bed, her slim frame moving slow, deliberate, until she’s kneeling over your head. You look up, and it’s a goddamn sight—her pussy right there, pink and wet from her orgasm, her thighs trembling just slightly as she lowers herself. “You sure?” she murmurs, glancing down at you, her voice soft but thick with want.
“Fuck yes,” you say, grabbing her hips and pulling her down. Her scent hits you first—sweet, musky, heady as hell—and then she’s on you, her folds slick against your lips. You groan into her, your tongue flicking out, tasting her—salty and tangy and so fucking good. She gasps, her hands bracing against the headboard, her body rocking slightly as you lick into her, slow and deep, savoring every inch.
Miyeon’s not waiting around. She lines herself up over your cock, her hands on your chest for balance, and sinks down—slow at first, just the tip, her pussy hot and tight around you. “Oh, fuck,” she moans, her head tipping back, her hair spilling over her shoulders as she takes you deeper, inch by inch. She’s thicker than Sana, her walls plush and soaking, and when she’s fully seated, her ass flush against your thighs, you’re gone—lost in the dual sensation of Miyeon riding you and Sana on your face.
“God, you’re big,” Miyeon says, her voice breathy, her hips rolling once, testing the stretch. “Feels so fucking good.”
Sana’s whimpering above you, her thighs clenching around your head as you suck on her clit, your tongue circling, then plunging inside her again. “Don’t stop,” she breathes, her voice trembling. “Please, don’t fucking stop.”
Miyeon starts moving, her hips lifting and dropping, slow at first, then faster, her hands digging into your chest. “Look at her,” she pants, glancing up at Sana. “She’s losing her mind up there. You like his tongue, babe?”
“Fuck—yes,” Sana chokes out, her hips grinding down now, smearing her wetness across your face. “So good… didn’t know it’d be this good.”
You groan into Sana, the vibration making her buck, and Miyeon laughs, low and dirty. “I knew,” she says, picking up the pace, her pussy slamming down on you harder now, wet and messy. “He’s a fucking natural.”
The room’s a mix of filth—Sana’s moans, Miyeon’s gasps, the slick sounds of skin and sex, all layered over the rain’s dull roar. You’re drowning in it—Sana’s taste flooding your mouth, Miyeon’s tight heat swallowing your cock, the insane push-pull of giving and taking. Your hands grip Sana’s hips harder, guiding her as you eat her out, your tongue relentless, and Miyeon’s riding you like she owns you, her nails leaving red trails on your skin.
“Fuck—don’t stop,” she gasps, then she shifts her gaze, looking up at Miyeon, and her voice turns filthy, wilder than you’ve heard all night. “God, babe, you look so fucking hot riding his cock like that. Bouncing on him—shit, it’s driving me crazy.”
Miyeon groans, her pace faltering for a second as Sana’s words hit her like a spark. She glances down, her dark hair swinging over her face, her lips curling into a horny smirk. “Yeah? You’re so fucking sexy like this, Sana—spread out, moaning on his face. Never seen you this slutty before.” Her hands slide up her own body, squeezing her tits through the motion, her nipples hard and poking against her palms.
Sana whimpers, her hips bucking against your mouth, and fires back, “You’re one to talk—look at you, fucking him like a pro. So hot, babe. Love watching you take that dick.”
The dirty talk’s like gasoline on a fire—Miyeon’s pussy clenches tighter around you, her thrusts turning sharper, more desperate, and you groan into Sana, the vibration making her jolt. “Keep sucking her,” Miyeon says, her voice rough, commanding, her eyes locked on yours through the haze. “Make her cum again. I wanna see her lose it.”
Sana’s already sensitive as hell—her last orgasm left her shaky, her clit throbbing under your tongue—but you don’t let up. You flatten your tongue against her, dragging it up slow, then circling fast, sucking hard enough to make her cry out. “Fuck—too much,” she whines, but her hips keep grinding, chasing it anyway, her body begging for more. You’re so caught up in it—Sana’s wet heat on your face, Miyeon’s tight grip riding you—that your own control’s slipping, your cock pulsing hard inside her with every filthy word they trade.
“Goddamn, you’re gonna make me cum just talking like that,” Miyeon moans, her hands gripping your thighs now, slamming down harder, her ass jiggling with every impact, her pussy’s dripping, soaking your hips. “Keep going, babe,” she tells Sana, her voice dripping with lust. “Tell me how much you love this.”
Sana’s panting, her words slurring into gasps as you push her closer. “Love it—fuck, love watching you ride him. So good… so fucking good,” she manages, her voice breaking as you suck her clit between your lips, flicking your tongue over it fast and relentless. Her thighs clamp around your head, her moans turning into sharp little screams, and you can feel it—she’s right there.
“Cum on his face,” Miyeon growls, her hips snapping down harder, her own breath hitching as she watches Sana unravel. “Fucking soak him.”
Sana loses it—her second orgasm crashes through her, her body seizing up as she cries out, high and raw. You keep your mouth on her, licking her through it, and then she’s shaking, her pussy pulsing hard against your tongue. She shifts, desperate now, and rubs herself over your face, her hand flying between her legs to work her clit faster. Then—holy shit—she squirts, little bursts of wet heat splashing across your chest, your neck, dripping down your jaw. It’s messy, wild, and you lap up what you can, groaning into her as she collapses forward, gasping for air.
“Holy fuck,” Miyeon says, slowing her ride for a second to watch, her eyes wide, her pussy clenching around you like she’s about to blow too. “That was insane. Now I need a taste.” She slides off you, your cock springing free, slick and throbbing, and you’re still catching your breath as she takes charge.
“69,” Miyeon says, decisive, pointing at the bed. “Sana, lie down—head at the edge. Let’s switch this up.”
Sana’s still dazed, her legs wobbly, but she does it—crawling onto the bed, stretching out on her back, her head hanging just off the mattress’ edge, her brown hair spilling down like a curtain. She’s panting, her skin glistening with sweat, her pussy still twitching from her release. Miyeon climbs over her, positioning herself on all fours—her knees bracketing Sana’s head, her ass sticking out toward you, round and perfect, her own pussy glistening and begging for attention.
You’re off the bed now, standing at the edge, your cock hard and slick with both of them, the room spinning with how fucking intense this is. Miyeon looks back at you over her shoulder, her eyes dark and commanding. “Fuck me,” she says, simple and raw, wiggling her ass just enough to make it clear what she wants. “And Sana’s gonna eat me out while you do it.”
Sana’s hands reach up, grabbing Miyeon’s thighs, pulling her down closer to her mouth, and you can hear the soft, wet sound of her tongue already working—Miyeon moans instantly, her body arching. You step up, gripping Miyeon’s hips, your cock brushing against her entrance, and the scene in front of you—Sana’s face buried between Miyeon’s legs, Miyeon’s ass up and waiting—is so filthy, so perfect, you can barely process it. The rain’s a distant hum, the world narrowed down to this bed, these girls, this moment.
And before you know it, you're already inside her
Your hands grab Miyeon’s cheeks, spreading them wide as you watch your cock slide in and out of her—glistening, thick, stretching her tight little hole with every thrust. Her pussy’s hypnotic, a vise of heat and wet that sucks you in deeper each time, her walls pulsing like they’re trying to milk you dry. She’s on all fours over Sana, her knees sinking into the mattress, her ass high and perfect, swaying with every pounding you give her.
Below, Sana’s lying flat, her head tilted off the edge, her slim throat exposed as she devours Miyeon’s pussy. Her tongue’s working hard, flicking over Miyeon’s clit, dipping into her folds, and you can hear the sloppy, wet noises—Sana’s eager, relentless, her mouth making these little sucking sounds that drive Miyeon wild. Miyeon’s trying to keep up, her face buried between Sana’s thighs, licking and sucking in return, but it’s a mess—she’s too fucked-out to focus, her moans vibrating against Sana’s skin every time you slam into her. Her dark hair’s plastered to her back with sweat, strands sticking to her neck, and her body’s trembling, caught between the dual assault of your cock and Sana’s tongue.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you groan, your voice rough, hands digging into Miyeon’s flesh as you pull her back onto you, watching the way her pussy swallows your dick whole. “This shit’s unreal—look at you, taking it like a champ.”
Miyeon lifts her head just enough to gasp, her voice cracking with pleasure. “Goddamn—don’t stop, don’t you fucking dare. It’s too much—shit, I’m so close.” Her words slur together, half-muffled as she dives back into Sana’s pussy, but you can tell she’s struggling to keep it together—her tongue’s sloppy now, her focus shredded by the way you’re railing her.
Sana’s moaning too, her hips twitching up against Miyeon’s mouth, her hands clawing at Miyeon’s thighs to pull her closer. “Fuck, sweetie—your pussy’s so wet,” she whimpers, her voice high and needy, muffled against Miyeon’s clit. “He’s fucking you so good—I can taste it, babe, it’s dripping all over me.”
That sends a jolt through Miyeon—she groans into Sana, her hips bucking back against you harder, like she’s begging for more. “You like that, huh?” you say, smirking, spreading her wider, thrusting deeper until you’re hitting that spot that makes her whole body jolt. “Love hearing your girl talk dirty while I’m balls-deep in you?”
“Fuck—yes,” Miyeon chokes out, her ass jiggling with every slam, her voice shaking as Sana’s tongue flicks faster. “She’s—shit—she’s driving me insane down there. And you… you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”
“Do it,” you growl, your grip tightening, your cock throbbing inside her as the tension builds. “Cum for me, Miyeon. Let me feel that pussy lose it.”
Sana pulls back just enough to gasp, her lips shiny with Miyeon’s juices, her eyes wide and wild. “Please, babe—cum all over his dick. I wanna taste it after, wanna lick it clean.” Her words are pure filth, her voice trembling with how horny she is, and it’s like a switch flips in Miyeon.
“Fuck—okay, I’m—fuck!” Miyeon’s voice cuts off, her body locking up, and you feel it—her pussy clamping down hard around you, spasming wildly as she hits her peak. She’s loud, screaming into Sana’s thighs, her whole frame shaking as the orgasm rips through her. You keep thrusting, riding it out with her, but it’s intense—her walls fluttering, squeezing you so tight it’s almost too much.
You pull out slow, your cock slick and dripping with her, and Miyeon’s still trembling, her ass quivering like she’s not done yet. “Sana—lube him up,” you say, voice hoarse, stepping closer to where Sana’s head hangs off the bed. Sana’s quick—she cranes her neck, her mouth open and eager, and takes you in deep. Her lips wrap around you, soft and warm, her tongue swirling as she sucks you clean, tasting Miyeon all over you. She moans around your cock, her eyes fluttering shut like it’s the best thing she’s ever had, her small hands gripping your thighs to pull you closer.
“Fuck, Sana,” you mutter, your hand tangling in her hair, guiding her as she bobs her head, sloppy and wet. “You’re so good at this—you're loving the taste of her on my cock, huh?”
She pulls off with a gasp, spit trailing from her lips to your tip, nodding fast. “Yeah—fuck, she’s so sweet. I could eat her all day, but this… this is hot as hell.” Her tongue darts out, licking you one more time, and you’re rock-hard, pulsing with need.
“Back in,” Miyeon pants, her voice raw, still on her knees over Sana. “Fuck me again—harder this time. I want it.”
You don’t hesitate. You step back behind her, grabbing her hips, spreading her ass again as you line up and thrust in—one smooth, deep push that has her screaming, her voice echoing off the walls. “Fuck—yes!” she cries, her hands fisting the sheets, her pussy still sensitive but greedy, sucking you in like it can’t get enough. You go hard, pounding into her with a force that makes her whole body shake, her ass bouncing with every brutal thrust.
“Take it—fucking take it,” you growl, slapping her ass sharp, the crack of skin on skin cutting through the room. The sting makes her yelp, her pussy clenching tighter, and you feel the heat building in your gut, the pressure coiling fast. “Cum again, Miyeon—cum for us.”
Sana’s still under her, her tongue working Miyeon’s clit in frantic little circles, and she’s begging now, her voice high and desperate. “Please, babe—cum again. I need it—need to feel you lose it on him. Cum all over that fat dick.”
Miyeon’s a wreck, her head thrashing, her moans turning into sobs as the pleasure overloads her. “Fuck—Sana—you’re—shit, I can’t—” She breaks, her pussy spasming hard around you again, wet and wild, her second orgasm hitting like a storm. She screams, her ass pushing back against you, and it’s too fucking much—her tightness, Sana’s filthy pleas, the whole damn scene.
“Gonna cum,” you moan, your voice breaking, your thrusts turning erratic as the pleasure blinds you. “Fuck—Miyeon, you’re too good—gonna blow.”
Sana’s quick, her head twisting up from under Miyeon. “I want it,” she says, breathless, her eyes glinting with something feral. “Wanna taste your cum—first time, fuck, give it to me.”
Miyeon’s slutty side flares—she’s still shaking, still clenching you, but she grins through it. “Yeah—give it to her,” she pants, her voice thick with lust. “She’s begging so nice, huh? Fucking coat her with it.”
That does it. You’re at the edge, your cock throbbing, and you pull out fast, one hand stroking yourself hard, the other gripping Miyeon’s ass for balance. “Fuck—here it comes,” you groan, aiming the tip at Miyeon’s pussy—still wet, warm, pulsing from her orgasm. You rub it against her entrance, slick, red and swollen from the pounding you gave her, and then you’re there—cumming, thick and hot, spilling over Miyeon’s entrance in heavy ropes—white streaks painting her folds, dripping down her slit, pooling in the creases where her pussy meets her thighs. It’s a fucking load, more than you expected, a messy testament to how long it’s been, and it smears across her skin, glossy and obscene in the dim light.
“Sana, now,” you rasp, voice hoarse, your chest heaving as the last of it drips from your tip. “Taste it.”
Miyeon’s still in position, her ass up, her pussy hovering over Sana’s face—she shifts her hips down closer, eager, her breath hitching with a horny little whimper. “Fuck, babe, go for it,” she urges, her voice thick with lust, her fingers digging into Sana’s thighs to hold her steady. “Lick it up—his cum’s all over me. Tell me how it feels.”
Sana’s beneath her, her slim frame pinned to the bed, her head tilted back off the edge—her brown hair a wild spill, her lips parted and trembling. She’s never done this before, never tasted a guy’s cum, and you can see it in her eyes—nervous excitement, a raw curiosity burning behind the flush on her cheeks. Her tongue darts out first, tentative, a soft little flick against Miyeon’s inner thigh where a bead of your cum’s trickled down. She pauses, tasting it—salty, bitter, warm on her tongue—and her breath catches, a tiny gasp slipping out.
“More,” Miyeon coaxes, lowering herself further, her pussy brushing Sana’s lips now, your cum streaking across her mouth. “Get it all, babe. I want you to feel him.”
Sana dives in, bolder now, her tongue sweeping up Miyeon’s slit in a slow, deliberate stroke—dragging through the sticky mess of your cum, thick and creamy, mixed with Miyeon’s own slickness. She moans, low and shaky, the sound vibrating against Miyeon’s pussy, and it’s like she’s tasting something forbidden—something filthy and new that’s lighting her up inside. Her lips close around Miyeon’s folds, sucking gently, pulling your cum into her mouth, and her eyes flutter shut, lost in it. It’s raw, messy—her chin’s wet with it now, smears of white clinging to her skin, and she’s licking harder, deeper, chasing every drop.
“Fuck, yes,” Miyeon groans, her hips rocking down, grinding herself against Sana’s tongue. She’s horny as hell, her voice dripping with it—proud and turned on, watching her girlfriend taste you off her wrecked cunt. “How is it, babe? How’s his cum taste? Tell me.”
Sana pulls back just enough to speak, her voice muffled, lips glossy and dripping—a mix of your cum and Miyeon’s juices shining on her like some lewd, natural gloss. “It’s—fuck, it’s intense,” she says, her words slurring with arousal, her tongue flicking out again to lap at a thick streak sliding down Miyeon’s slit. “Salty… hot… kinda bitter, but—shit, I love it.” She dives back in, her tongue plunging deeper, scooping up more, her moans louder now, needy and unrestrained. She’s sucking Miyeon clean, her lips smacking softly, wet and sloppy, and it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen—Sana’s first taste of cum, and she’s devouring it like it’s her new favorite drug.
Miyeon’s trembling above her, her thighs quaking, her fingers tightening on Sana’s legs as Sana’s tongue works her over. “Goddamn, babe—you’re so fucking dirty,” she pants, her eyes rolling back for a second before snapping to you, wild and gleaming. “Look at her—she’s eating your cum like she’s starving. So fucking hot.” She shifts, pressing her pussy harder against Sana’s mouth, smearing more of the mess across her lips, and Sana takes it—greedy, unashamed, her tongue swirling through it all, swallowing every bit she can get.
Sana’s hands slide up, gripping Miyeon’s ass now, pulling her down tighter, her nails digging into the soft flesh. She’s moaning into Miyeon’s pussy, the sound raw and desperate, muffled by the wet heat she’s buried in. “More,” she mumbles, barely audible, her tongue lashing across Miyeon’s clit where a last streak of your cum lingers—thick and clinging. She sucks it off, slow and deliberate, her lips closing around the sensitive bud, and Miyeon jolts, a sharp cry tearing from her throat.
“Fuck—Sana,” Miyeon gasps, her voice breaking, her body shuddering as Sana’s mouth pushes her toward overstimulation. She’s still horny, still buzzing, but this moment—it’s intimate, just them now, sharing something primal. So she moves, leaving the 69 position to sit facing Sana, because she needs to see her girlfriend's delicate and lovely face covered in pure lust, in pure pleasure, her fingers tangling in Sana’s hair, gentle but firm, holding her there. “How’s it feel? First time tasting him—tell me everything.”
Sana pulls back again, just enough to breathe, her face a wreck—chin dripping, lips swollen and shiny, your cum streaked across her mouth like war paint. She licks her lips slow, deliberate, tasting the last of you, and looks up at Miyeon with this dazed, lust-drunk grin. “It’s—so fucking good,” she whispers, her voice trembling with how much she means it. “Like… I didn’t know it’d be this thick, this warm. It’s—fuck, it’s everywhere, and I can’t stop wanting it.” She leans in, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to Miyeon’s pussy, her tongue darting out one last time to swipe through the mess—your cum, her spit, Miyeon’s slick—all blending together in a filthy, perfect mix.
Miyeon moans, soft and low, her body relaxing into it now, her horny edge softening into something tender. “You’re so fucking cute,” she murmurs, her hand stroking Sana’s hair, her thumb brushing her cheek where a smear of cum still clings. “My dirty girl—loving it, huh?”
Sana nods, her eyes bright, a little shy now but glowing with satisfaction. She crawls up slow, sliding off the bed to sit up, her lips still wet and glistening—your cum and Miyeon’s juices a slick sheen across her mouth and chin. Miyeon follows, shifting to kneel in front of her, their bodies close, intimate. She cups Sana’s face, her thumbs tracing the edges of her lips, smearing the mess a little more, and leans in—kissing her deep, slow, tasting you on her tongue. It’s raw, possessive, but soft too—their mouths moving together, sharing the aftermath, a quiet hum of pleasure passing between them.
You’re slumped beside them, chest still heaving, your cock twitching with the last echoes of your orgasm as you watch—mesmerized, spent, but still buzzing from the sight. Miyeon pulls back from the kiss, a thin string of spit and cum connecting their lips for a second before it snaps, and she licks it away, grinning. “Good, right?” she whispers, her eyes flicking to Sana’s.
“So good,” Sana breathes, her smile small but real, her first taste of you lingering on her tongue—intense, erotic, a memory she’s already savoring. They lean into each other again, foreheads touching, giggling softly in the afterglow.
“Glad you liked it,” you say, voice rough, still catching your breath. “Shit, that was intense.”
Miyeon turns to you, her hand resting on your thigh, casual but warm. “You liked it too, huh? We can do this again—anytime you’re up for it. You’re, like… officially our guy now.”
Sana giggles, leaning in to kiss your cheek, her lips soft and sticky. “Yeah, you’re stuck with us. Such a good friend—taking care of me like that.”
Miyeon follows, pressing a kiss to your other cheek, her touch lingering. “Thanks, dude. For real—for being so cool with Sana. Means a lot.”
You laugh, the sound tired but content, your hand running through your hair. “Anytime. Fucking honor, honestly.”
Miyeon stretches out, her body glistening with sweat, and yawns. “Okay, post-sex vibe check—we’re done fucking, right? Let’s crash here, all of us. Naked, cozy, whatever.”
“Works for me,” you say, settling back against the pillows, the mattress dipping as Sana curls up on one side, Miyeon on the other. Their skin’s warm against yours, their breaths slowing, and the rain outside lulls the room into a quiet, sated haze. You’re all wrecked, tangled, and happy as hell—ready to sleep it off, together.
—
The morning sun filters through the blinds, casting soft, golden stripes across the tangled mess of sheets and limbs on the bed. You wake up slow, your body heavy and warm, sandwiched between two soft, naked forms—Miyeon on your left, her arm draped lazily over your chest, her breath warm against your neck; Sana on your right, her legs tangled with yours, her head nestled into your shoulder. It’s a surreal fucking moment, the kind that makes you blink and wonder if last night was a dream. But the ache in your muscles, the faint sting of scratch marks on your arms, and the raw, vivid memory of their moans tell you it was real—insanely, mind-blowingly real. You shift slightly, trying to stretch without waking them, but your morning wood’s already making itself known, tenting the sheet that’s barely clinging to your hips. Damn, even after all that, your body’s still ready to go.
Miyeon stirs first, her eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep, a lazy smile tugging at her lips as she spots your hard-on. “Well, good morning to you too,” she mumbles, her voice low and raspy, thick with that post-sleep huskiness that’s sexy as hell. Her hand slides down your chest, slow and teasing, fingers brushing over your stomach before wrapping around your cock. She strokes you lightly, still half-asleep, her grip loose but deliberate, like she’s just playing with you for now. “Guess you’re not tapped out yet, huh?”
You groan softly, the touch sending a jolt through you, and turn your head to see Sana blinking awake too, her brown hair a messy halo around her face. She yawns, stretching her arms above her head, her small tits peeking out from under the sheet, then glances down at Miyeon’s hand on you. A sleepy grin spreads across her face. “Seriously? Already?” she says, her voice soft but amused, scooting closer to join in. Her hand slides under the sheet too, her fingers brushing against Miyeon’s as they both stroke you now—Sana’s touch gentler, curious, Miyeon’s firmer, knowing exactly what she’s doing. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”
“Blame you two,” you mutter, your voice rough, still waking up, your hips twitching involuntarily as their hands work you over. “Fucking waking up like this—who wouldn’t be hard?”
Sana giggles, her fingers tightening slightly, her thumb brushing over the tip where you’re already leaking a little. “Fair point,” she says, then sits up, the sheet falling away completely, leaving her bare and glowing in the morning light. “Come on—let’s take care of that in the shower. You, me, and Miyeon. Sound good?”
Miyeon’s already rolling out of bed, her round ass bouncing as she stands, stretching with a groan that’s half-tired, half-horny. “Hell yeah,” she says, tossing her hair back, her eyes flicking to you with a smirk. “Let’s clean up—and get dirty again.”
You don’t need convincing. The three of you stumble to the bathroom, naked and laughing, the hardwood cold under your feet. The shower’s big enough for all of you—glass walls, a rainfall head that pours hot water the second you turn it on. Steam starts fogging up the space as you step in, Miyeon right behind you, Sana trailing with a shy grin. The water hits your skin, hot and perfect, and Miyeon’s already pressing herself against your back, her tits soft and slick against you, her hands sliding around to your cock again. “Turn around,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your ear, and you do, pinning her against the tiles, the water streaming down her face as you kiss her hard, all tongue and heat.
Sana’s watching, her fingers trailing down her own stomach as she steps closer, the water soaking her hair, making it stick to her shoulders. “Fuck her first,” she says, her voice low, a little daring, her eyes locked on where Miyeon’s hand is guiding you between her legs. You don’t hesitate—lifting Miyeon’s thigh, hooking it over your hip, and sliding into her in one smooth thrust. She’s still tight, still wet from last night, and she moans loud, her head tipping back against the glass, the sound echoing in the steam.
“Goddamn, you feel so good,” you groan, thrusting slow at first, watching the way her pussy takes you, the water making everything slicker, louder. Miyeon’s hands grip your shoulders, her nails biting in, and she’s grinning through the pleasure, loving it.
Sana steps in closer, her fingers brushing Miyeon’s clit as you fuck her, making Miyeon gasp sharper. “Your turn next,” you say, glancing at Sana, and she nods, biting her lip, her hand slipping lower to touch herself as she waits. You pull out of Miyeon after a few more thrusts, spinning Sana around, bending her over so her hands brace against the wall, her ass up and perfect. You slide into her from behind, her pussy tight and dripping, and she whimpers, the sound soft but needy as you start pounding into her, the water splashing around you both.
“Fuck—yes,” Sana moans, her voice shaking, her skinny frame rocking with every thrust, her head bowing as the pleasure hits. Miyeon’s right there, kissing her neck, her hands roaming over Sana’s wet skin, squeezing her tits, making it a messy, horny tangle of bodies under the spray. You fuck Sana hard, then switch back to Miyeon, trading off until you’re all panting, the shower a blur of steam, moans, and slick, wet skin. You finish fast—pulling out, stroking yourself as they kneel under the water, mouths open, catching every drop as you cum, their tongues flicking out to taste you, giggling through it like it’s a game.
After, you’re all dripping and laughing, toweling off in a haze of post-sex glow, the bathroom mirror fogged to hell. Sana’s the first out, wrapping a towel around herself and heading to the kitchen. “I’ll make breakfast,” she calls over her shoulder, her voice chipper despite the wild morning. You and Miyeon follow slower, still naked, flopping onto the couch to catch your breath, her head lolling against your shoulder.
The smell of coffee and bacon fills the house soon, and when Sana calls you over, you find her in full domestic mode—hair tied back, still in just a towel, flipping pancakes like she’s auditioning for a cooking show. She’s good, too—golden, fluffy stacks piling up on a plate, bacon sizzling crisp on the side, scrambled eggs fluffy and perfect. You all sit around the small kitchen table, naked under loosely draped towels, digging in like it’s the most normal thing in the world. The pancakes are sweet, dripping with syrup, the bacon’s salty crunch a perfect balance, and the coffee’s strong, cutting through the morning fog. It’s quiet for a bit, just the clink of forks and the occasional hum of satisfaction, everyone still waking up, still processing the insanity of last night and this morning.
Miyeon’s the one to break the silence, grabbing her phone from the counter mid-bite, syrup glistening on her lips. “Oh, shit,” she says, scrolling quick, her eyes lighting up. “Road’s fixed—traffic’s moving again. Guess the landslide’s cleared.”
You take a sip of coffee, the mug warm in your hands, and nod, glancing between them. “Guess that’s my cue, huh? It was a pleasure meeting you girls. Really.”
They both freeze, forks halfway to their mouths, then look at each other—Sana’s brows shoot up, Miyeon’s lips twitch—and they burst out laughing, loud and sudden, like you’ve just said the dumbest thing imaginable. “What?” you say, caught off guard, setting the mug down. “What’s so funny?”
Miyeon leans forward, still chuckling, wiping a tear from her eye. “Dude, no way. After last night? And this morning? We’re not going anywhere.”
Sana nods, her grin wide and bright, pushing a piece of bacon around her plate. “Yeah, like—we had so much fun. Leaving now would be stupid. We wanna stay the week with you.”
You blink, stunned, the words sinking in slow. “Wait—for real? The whole week?”
“Uh-huh,” Miyeon says, leaning back in her chair, stretching so the towel slips a little, showing off the curve of her chest. “This place just got a million times better with you here. You’re a fucking gem, dude—we’re not letting that go.”
Sana’s still smiling, softer now, her eyes warm as she looks at you. “It’s already special, you know? Memorable as hell. And it’s only been, what, a day? Imagine the rest of the week.”
You laugh, shaking your head, still processing. “Shit, I mean—I’d love that. Didn’t expect you’d wanna stick around, but hell yeah, I’m in.”
“Good,” Miyeon says, pointing her fork at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re a great find—fun, chill, and you fuck like a goddamn champ. We like having you as a friend.”
Sana nods, popping a piece of pancake in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah, you’re open-minded—know how to roll with it, enjoy shit without being a dick about it. And you’re respectful, which is huge. I mean, last night was wild, and you never made it weird.”
You grin, leaning back, the warmth of the coffee and their words settling in your chest. “You two are fucking unreal—the coolest couple I’ve ever met, hands down. I’m stoked you crashed into my trip like this.”
Miyeon laughs, finishing her bacon with a satisfied crunch. “Settled then—no one’s leaving. This lake house just became our little sex-and-breakfast paradise, and you’re stuck with us.”
“Couldn’t ask for better company,” you say, raising your mug in a mock toast, and they clink their coffee cups against it, laughing through the syrup-sticky mess. The road’s open, sure, but fuck going anywhere—this week’s already gold, and it’s only just started.
Aespa Winter x Male Reader // Quickfire Challenge 2
words: 4,988 Masterlist
"That's it. You're so not getting any tonight. I already told you, it's the lighting." There's an inflexion at the end of the sentence. A little indicator, a warning light, Winter's about to raise her voice - lose her cool - and it'll be the second time in as many minutes.
"Did you shave them off?" you ask, leaning in far too close to her brow.
"What?!" she snaps. "I did not shave off my fucking eyebrows."
"Is it some sort of trend? Are people into that? If it is then I don’t think I like it."
"Not only are you not getting any, you're sleeping on the floor." She's trying not to get angry, trying to make this all into a joke, but the way her lips are pursed - and those are still perfect, as ever - means you've pushed her a little too far.
"I don't want to sleep with someone with no eyebrows anyway."
No words this time, only a punch in your left arm. You yelp in mock pain, rubbing your shoulder as though she's actually done any real damage. You start stumbling ahead of her, acting out a limp, and you know she's staring at you with that 'fuck-off-now-or-I'm-actually-gonna-hit-you' expression on her face. "That did not hurt, stop it."
"I'm pretty sure I've got a bruise, look." You turn around, rolling up the sleeve of your t-shirt to expose the skin below. It's not there, obviously, but you wait until Winter's standing beside you before you start laughing. She doesn't find it quite so funny.
"You're so fragile. So easily damaged," she says, walking past you, bumping your shoulder again. Her dress ripples in the gentle breeze that whips up behind the trees to your right, before flowing through, carrying the scent of pine, earth, and fresh grass. A fitting compliment to the lake on your left, and the setting sun above. The sky is painted a vivid red, with a gradient of pink, orange and purple, and the clouds are thin, like wisps of cotton candy.
You follow a few steps behind, plotting your next move, your next opportunity to annoy her. It's a game you love to play because you know that no matter how much she might pretend otherwise, Winter does enjoy it. And it's easy to wind her up, so easy. "Hey, can we go for a swim? It looks like it's really warm."
"No," she says, not even bothering to look back at you.
"God, you're so boring." You catch up to her, walk side by side, and wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, kissing her on the temple, just below her hairline. "But you are the prettiest girl here, I'll give you that."
"Shut up, I'm the only girl here," she says, though the hint of a smile appears. "I'm boring for not wanting to throw myself in a lake filled with who knows what."
"Fish," you say.
"Exactly."
"And plants, and water..."
"Thank you for clearing that up."
"Don't mention it."
"You're an ass, do you know that?"
"So you keep telling me."
"Yeah, well, maybe one day you'll start believing me."
"Maybe."
The two of you continue walking along the dirt path, through the trees, and out towards the clearing. Winter's arm has made its way around your waist, and now the two of you are walking in time, matching strides, the sound of your steps on the gravel echoing in a pattern that becomes almost rhythmic. You're close to your cabin now, just a few more minutes and you'll be able to throw off your shoes and fall onto the bed, pull her down with you, and-
"I'm gonna take a bath," Winter says.
"Funny, I was just thinking something similar."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah, I was thinking you could take a bath right now." You bend and scoop Winter up into your arms, lifting her from her feet and holding her tight against your chest. She lets out a loud, high-pitched scream, but it's followed by a laugh.
"What are you doing? Put me down."
"Nope." You're already moving, already half-running, and as her hands come to rest on the side of your neck, you feel her fingers pressing hard into your skin, trying to keep her balance.
"Are you serious?"
"Always," you reply.
"You're such a dumbass. If you drop me-"
"Gonna drop you alright." You veer left before you reach the cabin, stepping onto the pier and out towards the middle of the lake, ignoring the screams of protest from Winter.
"You are not dropping me in there, I swear to God, if you do, I'm leaving you. I will never-"
You cut her off, letting her drop into the water with a splash, and you stand there, watching as her head pops out from beneath the surface, hair flat against her forehead, sticking to her cheeks. "It's freezing cold, you shit!" She yells.
"What? You were looking a little hot, figured a dip in the lake would cool you down."
"I hate you." She splashes water in your direction.
"Oh, you don't mean that," you reply, bending at the knees, peering over the edge of the dock. She's wiping her hair from her face, and there's a glare, a dark shadow cast across her features that makes you think you've gone a step too far.
"Get in," she says, grabbing your ankles and pulling.
"Winter! Don't-" You're falling before you have time to finish the sentence, and the world seems to move in slow motion, the water approaching as if it's coming to a stop for you, rather than the other way around. You break the surface, spluttering, coughing. "It's fucking freezing."
"That's what I just said."
"Yeah, well," you try to catch your breath, "I guess I was too busy admiring how hot you were to pay any attention."
"Don't start saying nice things after you've already dunked me in here. I'll never believe you again."
"Come here."
"Why?"
"Just, come here." You reach out, grabbing her hand, and pulling her towards you.
"We're gonna get hypothermia," she snaps.
"I'll warm you up."
Your hands meet her hips, and she wraps her legs around your waist, her arms around your neck. It's an embrace that's been repeated a thousand times, but one you know will never become repetitive. The way her lips move against yours is always exciting, always fresh, as if it's the first time all over again. And when you feel her tongue slip inside your mouth, and her fingers tangle themselves in your hair, there's nothing in the world you want more.
"You're an asshole, you know that?" Winter says.
"I know."
"But you're my asshole."
"I know."
You kiss her again, and as her teeth gently bite your bottom lip, your grip on her tightens.
"Let's get back to the cabin," she whispers.
"Why?"
"Because," she says, "I want to fuck you."
"I thought I wasn't getting any tonight."
"Shut up already, will you?"
-
You leave a trail of water in your wake. Through the doorway, over the hardwood floor, making a trail to the bathroom. There are puddles on the carpet, droplets of water clinging to your skin, and goosebumps covering both your bodies. You feel them on her as you peel the dress from her body. Light fabric, sodden and made heavy, clinging to her every curve, and every crease, until it's a puddle on the floor.
"You're a mess," she says, and there's a playful grin on her face.
"Me?" You look down, running your eyes over her naked form. "Yeah, right. Look at you. Think we washed off whatever was left of your eyebrows, though."
She hits you with the palm of her hand, and then her arms are wrapped around your neck, her lips pressed against yours. You step forward, pushing her into the shower and then you reach out, palming against the wall and searching for the knob. Water cascades from the ceiling, and your eyes are open, staring straight into Winter's as her hand grips your wrist, pulling it downwards, pressing your fingers against her. You're smiling, and she is too.
"Is this the part where I'm not getting any?" You ask, and her response is a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head.
"It's the part where you stop talking." She kisses you again, and you're more than happy to comply. Her tongue slips into your mouth, your finger into her cunt, and it's hot, wet, and desperate - the kiss and the cunt. It's the latter that has you weak at the knees.
You press her against the tiled wall, her back arching away from the cold surface. The shower's a tight squeeze, and the steam and spray are starting to fill the small space, but the water's warm, and Winter's warmer. And as you slip another finger inside her, her eyes flutter closed and her nails dig into the back of your neck, dragging along the skin.
You're at her neck now, an assault on her senses. Tongue and teeth and lips and hands, all working together to coax out moans, gasps, and whispers. "Don't stop." You hear her say, and it's not as if you could, or would.
It's the little things that make you want to worship her. The way her breath catches when you suck on her pulse point, the way her nails dig harder, her hands grab tighter, the way she starts rolling her hips and grinding against the heel of your palm. You curl your fingers, push in deeper, and feel her clench, tightening around them.
You've got her fucking planted against the wall. Water runs down her naked form. Rolling down those shoulders; a cascade over her breasts; flowing over her toned stomach that tightens ever more by the second; dripping off her thighs, which are spread wide, and shaking with each thrust of your fingers. And, finally, the rivulets of water that stream down her back, her ass, her legs.
You pull her into another kiss, and the noises she's making are driving you crazy. Her moans, her pants, her curses. And the way her lips tremble and her jaw quivers. "Fuck, keep going, just like that," she whispers, and your heart skips a beat, and the throbbing between your legs becomes almost painful.
You know she's getting close. She always gets the same look on her face. That expression of pleasure mixed with pain like the feeling's almost too much, but it's just enough. And when she cums, she throws her head back, and her hands ball into fists. And the only sound she makes is a gasp, and her body goes rigid, her walls tighten, and you feel her cumming against your fingers, and then her knees buckle and you have to catch her, hold her steady.
"You're always so easy," you tease, and her eyes open. She's looking at you like she wants to punch you, or fuck you, or both. Maybe.
"No, I'm not." There's that signature furrow of her brow, that telltale crease.
"So easy," you repeat.
"I'll show you easy," she says, and the next thing you know, your back's against the tiles and her mouth is on yours.
And, oh, does she show you.
-
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
You're lying beside each other, the sheets pulled up, barely covering the two of you. Your bodies are entwined, your limbs tangled, and Winter's head rests on your chest, her ear against your chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of your heartbeat.
"Talk about what?" Winter asks.
"Well, we've never done that before."
"We have sex all the time," she says quizzically.
"That wasn't just sex," you reply.
"My ass?" She looks up at you.
"Your ass." You nod, smiling. "That was.... new. How was it? Did it hurt?"
"You know, the fact that you're asking questions and not making jokes is kinda weirding me out. Don't think it's going to be a regular thing, okay?" Winter rolls off your chest and onto her back, her head resting on her own pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "How was it for you?"
"Unexpected. Hot."
"You can stop trying to play it cool. I saw you back there, losing your mind while you fucked my ass."
"You're the one who came so hard that she nearly passed out."
"Shut up," she laughs. "Go to sleep. And don't even think about touching me in the morning. My ass hurts."
"I could kiss it better."
"Fuck off," she says, slapping your arm, but there's a smile on her lips, and then she shuffles closer to you, draping an arm over your stomach.
-
"Last day," Winter sighs as she looks out onto the lake from the balcony, her arms folded across the railing as she leans forward against it. The metal is cool on her exposed stomach. She's wearing one of your shirts and nothing else, and the way the morning breeze ripples against it sends a chill running up her spine. The sun is already warming her skin though, and the coolness is more than welcome.
"Not ready to leave?" you ask from inside the cabin, still packing the clothes you brought with you.
"I'm not sure," she replies, turning her head, and watching you fold a t-shirt and place it into the suitcase that sits open on the bed. "I do miss my own bed, but I'm not sure I want to go back to reality yet."
"Reality can wait another few hours, don't you think?" you ask as you approach her on the balcony, wrapping your arms around her from behind, your hands resting on her stomach, pulling her closer.
"I guess," she says. "We'll leave and then be replaced by some other young couple that will fuck all day, every day."
"Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?"
"No, not at all," she says, rolling her eyes. "I'm not the jealous type."
"I think you might be," you say, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck, just below her hairline. "Remember when we were in that bar, and the bartender kept winking at me?"
"How could I forget? I wanted to smash my bottle over her head."
"Point proven." Another kiss and your fingers begin to play with the edge of the shirt. "So, we have a few hours left. Want to go for a walk somewhere? Maybe we can see where the trails go today?"
"Maybe you can get down on your knees?"
"You want to waste the last day of vacation in bed?"
"Sex with a view? Yes please." Winter pulls your hand onto her ass, and you can feel her smile when you press your lips against the back of her neck again. "You can't say you don't like the idea."
"That doesn't mean it's not a waste." You reply, trailing kisses on her neck, and along her shoulders.
"So you don't want to fuck me against that balcony?"
"Don't get it twisted. I'm going to fuck you against that balcony." You run a hand up from her hip, over her toned stomach, underneath the shirt, until it meets her breast. It fits perfectly like it was made just for you, and you feel her hardening nipple press against your palm.
"Then stop talking and put that mouth of yours to work."
"I'm gonna eat you until your legs give out," you whisper into her ear. She lets out a soft gasp just before you slide down to your knees, your hands on her ass. "Hands on the railing."
"Why?"
"Just, trust me," you reply. You hear a faint giggle and then feel her shift slightly, the skin of her palms pressing against the metal bars of the railing.
You push up the shirt, bunching it at the small of her back, baring her cute ass to the world. You plant kisses on her right cheek, biting gently, dragging your teeth across her smooth flesh. Your hands run down the backs of her thighs, fingers trailing up the inside until they reach their destination, her wet cunt. You feel the heat first, the warmth emanating from her, the dampness between her thighs. Your thumb runs along her slit and her legs buckle ever so slightly, her grip tightening on the railing.
You start slow, your thumb parting her, the tip running along her folds, stopping just short of her clit before repeating the pattern. She lets out a breathy moan, her body already responding to your touch. You continue to adorn her ass in kisses, your tongue leaving wet patches on her soft skin.
Winter rolls her hips, pushing herself against you. "Not quite the knee-buckling orgasm I was promised."
"You're so needy." You smile and take firm hold of her ass with both hands. "And annoying." You spread her open and run the flat of your tongue from the front to the back. She moans again, her back arching, pushing her ass further out, and you do the same thing once more, and again, and again. Until she's whining, and the muscles in her stomach tighten.
You eat Winter's ass as if you were starved of her like you hadn't already spent days doing exactly that, as if her taste were a drug you'd gone too long without. You lose yourself in her. You forget the world around the two of you. You're barely aware of your surroundings anymore; all that matters is having your face buried between her cheeks, your tongue in her hole, and the sounds coming out of her mouth. You're drunk on her.
"Fuck!" she moans. Her knuckles are turning white, and you know that she's trying to stop herself from reaching behind her, pulling you into her, grabbing fistfuls of your hair, and forcing you deeper.
You take a moment of respite, planting kisses over her soft cheeks. "You're gonna wake up the entire forest if you keep making noise," you say.
"Don't stop," she replies.
"Wasn't planning on it."
You dip back down, running your tongue over her hole, pressing harder this time. Her body shakes and shudders as she fights to stay upright. Her thighs are shaking and she's clenching, and you feel the pressure of her ring tightening as if she were trying to pull your tongue in.
The sun is beating down on both of you now, and the sweat rolls down your back. You can taste it on her too. A sheen on her skin, kissed by the morning sunlight, and there are droplets of sweat collecting in the dimples above her ass, which you make sure to kiss, too.
"Oh fuck, keep going." Winter's head drops and her hair cascades around her face. You reach around her, finding her pussy soaking, dripping. You dip your fingers in, pushing them past her folds. She's tight and wet, and so hot that it almost feels like your fingers might melt. Almost. Her hips buck and her breathing quickens. "Don't you fucking stop."
"Not planning to," you reply, muffled, your face pressed against her.
So here you are, middle of a forest, on the balcony of a rented cabin that feels as if it's a million miles away from society. Your girlfriend is standing with both hands gripping the metal bars of the balcony railing, naked, her head down, hair everywhere, back arched and pushing her ass back against your face. You're on your knees, hands on her hips, fingers inside her. Your mouth, lips, and tongue are worshipping her in a way that feels almost religious. And you wouldn't have it any other way.
She's going to cum. It's some sort of cosmic truth that you can feel, in the same way you know the sun is going to set tonight, and the moon will appear. She's going to cum on your fingers and on your tongue. She's going to shake and scream, and she'll have to sit down when you're done with her.
"Oh, I'm so close," she moans.
You don't respond. You simply redouble your efforts. You curl your fingers and you drag the tip of your tongue over her sensitive hole. Her breathing is ragged, and she's losing her mind. The muscles in her ass and thighs are tightening and her back is arched so hard that it looks painful. You feel her clench, and then her entire body is spasming as if electricity is coursing through her veins.
Winter lets out a string of curses as she cums on your fingers, your hand, your arm, the floor - she's making a mess of everything. And when it finally passes, and she's standing, shaking, you stand too, wrap her in your arms and pull her into an embrace. "I think my legs actually went weak." She's breathing hard and there are tears in her eyes, and she's looking at you with that same expression she always has after she's cum.
"Told you," you say.
"Yeah, well," she breathes hard, looking out over nature's beauty. "I'm still standing." You kiss the back of her neck again and you can't help but smile. It's the smile that only Winter can put on your face, and as the sun climbs higher in the sky, you're happy to be spending your days in this little piece of heaven.
"Good. It would have been a real shame if you gave up already. We have a whole morning, after all." You pull her shirt (Your shirt? The details are meaningless.) up roughly and expose her lithe body to the world. You pull it at her neck, using the bunched-up fabric to hold her in place. You press into the small of her back, bend her over the railing, and your hand wanders down to her hip.
"I'm surprised you have anything left to give after this week." Winter chuckles and pushes her ass against you. "Drained you dry and then some."
-
"Just keep your eyes on the road, will you?" Winter snaps.
"Kinda difficult with you doing that," you say.
"I mean it. Don't you dare crash. I don't want to be in the news as the idol who crashed with her boyfriend's cock in her mouth."
"It's not even in your mouth."
"Not yet." She flashes a mischievous smile as she strokes you.
"We've been on the road for less than twenty minutes and you're already on me," you laugh. "You can barely go an hour without me inside you."
"You weren't complaining earlier when I was riding you."
"I wasn't driving a high-speed hunk of metal down the highway then. , take it easy."
"I don't think I can. I've got my hands on your big cock, how am I meant to control myself?" Winter's hand runs down the entire length, from base to tip. "I just want it in me all the time."
"I'll pull over, okay?"
"Don't pull over." Winter's hand is replaced by her head in your lap. "Eyes on the road."
"Fuck," you say, as her tongue swirls around the tip. You can feel her hand gripping your cock tight. Her lips slide down to meet it. She's wet, warm, and so inviting that you find your eyes drifting down to watch, only to have to look back to the road.
Winter doesn't take your entire length in one go, no, she takes her time, teasing the tip of your cock before licking the entire length, base to top. It's a game for her, a game you love, but a game nonetheless. She wants you to cum, but she wants to drag it out for as long as she can.
Your hands are gripped tightly around the wheel, knuckles white. The urge to grab her head and push her down on your cock, to gag her with it, to have her choke on it, to use her pretty little face for nothing more than her own pleasure, it's overwhelming. "Just let me pull over," you say.
"No time. Eyes on the road."
The next ten minutes seem to last an hour. Winter's mouth is doing its magic, taking you deeper with every movement, taking more and more until the entire thing is down her throat. You hear her gag on it, feel the vibrations against the head, and your cock throbs in her mouth.
She pulls up with a pop and a gasp for air, and then she's at it again, bobbing up and down on it, her spit running down the sides of the shaft.
"Shit, keep doing that," you whisper. Winter's tongue runs over the head of your cock, and you're struggling to concentrate, but then it stops - the contact gone. "Fuck, Winter. Come on, I'm so close."
"I know." She says. "That's why I stopped." There's a glint in her eye, something you recognise.
"Oh come on, are you seriously-"
"Yep," she cuts you off, sitting back in the passenger seat. "My turn." She unbuttons her jeans and shimmies them down off her hips. Just enough so she can slip a hand under them.
"That's it. I'm pulling over."
"No! We'll be late. You have to keep driving," Winter moans as she begins to touch herself. Her legs spread wider and you watch her out of the corner of your eye.
"Winter..."
"I said eyes on the fucking road," she growls, her fingers picking up pace.
It's the most awkward fifteen minutes of your life, and it feels like you spend more of the time staring at her than at the road. Winter is panting, gasping, moaning. She's grinding her hips into the seat and she's thrown her head back, eyes shut, mouth agape. And her fingers are working her pussy like she's possessed.
She puts her leg up on the dash and sinks deeper into the seat. You can see how wet her cunt is from here. It glistens with the juices dripping out of her. Her nipples are poking through her shirt, and you want to pull over and fuck her brains out, but she keeps telling you no, so instead, you watch her finger herself in the passenger seat.
Winter's close, you can tell. Her breathing is shallow and ragged, and she's mumbling something under her breath, too quiet for you to hear. Her body starts to tremble and shake, and you're half-watching, half-driving when she finally cums. Hard. And she screams, and you swerve, and someone behind you blares their horn, and you can barely breathe. She looks like a mad woman. She's still writhing, grinding, and panting, her fingers rubbing circles on her clit, her back arching.
"This is torture," you whisper, eyes glued back to the road, heart thumping, palms sweating.
"I think I'm going to pass out," Winter breathes, slumping down in her seat. "Fuck that felt good."
"Great, now how about a fucking hand here?" you laugh, gesturing at your dick. It's throbbing, and aching, and it needs to be touched.
"Oh, right." She's out of breath, but she manages to pull her pants back on, button them up, and crawl back into your lap, her fingers wrapping around your shaft. "Guess I forgot."
"How convenient."
Winter wraps her lips around your cock again, and this time, she's more eager. Her tongue swirls around the tip while she moves her head up and down. You feel the pressure building in your abdomen, and the world is starting to blur. It's just her and her pretty pink lips wrapped around you. Her tongue is hot and wet and so fucking soft. And she's sucking you. She's moaning with your cock in her mouth, and it's sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.
"You're hungry," you grunt.
"Mm-hmm," Winter responds. She shifts onto her knees on the passenger seat, her cute ass in the air and her mouth wrapped around your dick. Everyone you overtake could just glance over and see her. Tight jeans and a tighter ass; they'd be hard-pressed to look away. But you're not going to be pressing anything except her face into your cock. Your hand finds its way to the back of her head and you push down gently until the entire length is in her mouth.
"Winter..." you grunt with one hand on the wheel and one in her hair. She bobs her head, and you feel her gag and choke. Spit dribbles down the corners of her mouth and onto your lap, and her eyes water, but she doesn't stop, she just keeps going, and you feel yourself building up, getting closer.
Winter moans around you and the vibration sends shockwaves through you. It's so hard not to thrust up into her. She gags, and you feel the head of your cock hitting the back of her throat.
"Fuck, just like that. Keep doing that." Your knuckles are white, and Winter's eyes are watering. Your fingers grip her hair tighter, pushing down on her, and her eyes roll back, her body trembling.
You cum in her mouth. Your entire body tenses up, and the road disappears. Your eyes are shut, and your back arches off the chair, and your hand grips her head. You fill that pretty mouth with your hot cum. She sucks it down, greedily swallowing it all.
Your eyes snap open. You're lucky. You didn't crash. You're still on the road, and you're alive, and you've just cum harder than ever.
"Better?" Winter asks, popping off of you.
"Much better." You say, trying to regain your composure.
"Good." She smiles at you, wiping at her chin. "How'd you like to get home late?"
"Oh, so now we're pulling over?" You laugh. You find a turn and take it, then another, until you're parked, overlooking a field. Winter's hands are already exploring under your shirt, and she's kissing your neck.
"Gonna ride you so hard that you can't think straight for the rest of the day."
a/n: tried experimenting with switching pov in 2nd person, and testing some dividers format.
The campus hums—students sprawl on the lawn or dart between classes. You’re propped against the library railing, nursing a half-hearted coffee, when familiar faces roll up.
“Yo, isn’t Yuqi your friend?” one of them asks, a little too casually.
You already know where this is going.
“She is,” you confirm, watching as they exchange looks.
“So, she’s actually single?” another cuts in, voice skeptical. “No hidden boyfriend? No messy situationship?”
You snort, shaking your head. “Nope. No secret anything. Just her and her oversized ego.”
That seems to encourage them. Someone whistles low. “Damn. Think I got a shot?”
You pretend to consider it. “Honestly? Go for it.”
That gets a reaction—a few surprised laughs, one guy nudging the other in mock encouragement.
“I mean it,” you continue, shrugging. “Might do her some good to have someone other than textbooks and late-night ramen occupying her brain. She hyper-fixates way too much on school.”
“She does look kinda intense,” one of them admits.
“Oh, she’s a menace,” you say easily. “But here’s the thing—Yuqi’s also insanely narcissistic. If you confess to her, she’d eat that up. She lives to be reminded how pretty she is.”
That earns a round of laughter.
“So you’re saying I should just walk up to her, tell her she’s gorgeous, and I’m in?”
You smirk. “Depends. Can you handle being ignored for two weeks when she gets too busy? Or her texting you at 2 AM just to brag about an exam score?”
The guy groans. “Yeah, nah. I don’t have the mental strength for that.”
Another one shakes his head. “Dude, why’s it sound like you’re feeding us to the wolves?”
You lift a brow. “Hey, you’re the ones asking.”
They chuckle, muttering something about how Yuqi’s beauty really is a waste if she’s just gonna be married to academia forever. You don’t think much of it—this isn’t the first time people have asked you about her, and it won’t be the last.
Besides, it’s not like it matters to you.
“Asking about what?”
The voice cuts through the conversation, unmistakable and laced with curiosity.
You don’t even have to turn around. You already know.
Yuqi stands there, arms crossed, one brow raised in that signature I-know-you’re-up-to-something expression. She looks effortlessly put together despite probably running on four hours of sleep and an unreasonable amount of caffeine. Her oversized hoodie hangs loosely off one shoulder, and she’s got that ever-present glint of amusement in her eyes—sharp, calculating, and just a little too pleased with catching you off guard.
The group stiffens. One guy actually takes half a step back, like she might call him out by name.
You take your time, sipping your drink before finally acknowledging her. “Oh, nothing much. Just these guys wondering if you’re single and available.”
Her gaze flicks toward them, slow and deliberate.
“Hmm.” She taps her chin, pretending to think. “And? What did you tell them?”
You smirk. “Told them to go for it. That you’d love being reminded how pretty you are.”
Yuqi scoffs, but you don’t miss the way her lips twitch upward. “Wow. Advertising me like I’m a limited-time offer?”
“I mean, you are in high demand.”
She tilts her head, feigning boredom. “And yet, nobody’s brave enough to try.”
The guys exchange awkward laughs, none of them willing to step up to the challenge. One clears his throat and mutters something about being late for class before they all make a quick exit, leaving just you and Yuqi standing there.
She watches them go, then turns back to you, unimpressed. “You really have zero faith in my love life, huh?”
“Not my fault your standards are ridiculous.”
“They’re not ridiculous,” she argues, flicking a piece of lint off her sleeve. “They’re refined.”
You shake your head, chuckling. “Whatever you say, Your Highness.”
She hums, studying you for a second too long. Then, with a smirk, she leans in slightly. “And what about you?”
You blink. “What about me?”
Yuqi’s grin sharpens. “Would you confess to me?”
She’s teasing, tossing it out like it’s nothing—just another jab in your years-long game.
So why does it land heavier this time?
“Hello??” She waves a hand in front of your face. “Stop zoning out like you’re actually thinking about it— are you?”
“Hell no,” you shoot back, forcing a laugh. “I know you’re full of yourself, but that’s taking it too far.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms. “Right. As if you could handle me anyway.”
‘God, she’s so annoying.’
She’s good-looking—annoyingly so. The kind of person who doesn’t even have to try. But when she does, she’s exceptional. Yuqi never settles. If she can push herself further, she will. She likes to joke that her father drilled perfectionism into her at three years old. You believe it. It shows in the way she studies, the way she carries herself, the way she acts like the world should revolve around her—and sometimes, it almost does.
You met her at the start of college—multiple run-ins on the same day. Apparently, that was enough for her to decide you were friends. From then on, Yuqi stuck around, pulling you into her orbit.
Rumors, of course, followed. They always do. But your relationship with Yuqi wasn’t that. Never that. It wasn’t shallow, like something you could fall in and out of, love or hate.
Best friends. Neither too close nor too distant. Something steady. Something comforting.
…Or at least, it should’ve been.
~🐶~
“Then… I can live with you.”
The words cut through the gentle hum of the café, slipping into the space between you and her without warning.
Yuqi, halfway through savoring a forkful of cake, stilling at the sudden proposition. The sweetness on her tongue dulls as her mind processes what she just heard.
Outside, the streetside view stretches beyond the window, pedestrians weaving through the early evening rush, neon signs flickering to life. It had been a peaceful moment—her, indulging in dessert, the warm glow of café lights, the casual murmur of other patrons.
And then that.
Her gaze snaps up, eyebrows slightly raised. She had been so focused on her food, on the comforting ritual of eating something sweet after a long day, that she almost forgot she wasn’t sitting here alone.
Across from her, you sit, arms crossed, looking entirely too casual for someone who just threw out a life-altering suggestion.
“…What?” Her fork hovers, eyes narrowing as she rewinds the last five minutes. Housing gripes, sure. Minnie’s betrayal, yeah. But this? “Hold up—did you just say live with me? Where the hell did that come from?”
“You just said it a minute ago, aren't you in trouble because you got stood up?”
Yuqi clicks her tongue at the memory, the taste of betrayal lingering far worse than the cake melting on her tongue.
Minnie—her supposed roommate, her supposed friend—had bailed on her at the last minute.
She had just signed the lease when the call came.
"Yuqi… I’m sorry, I don’t think I can live with you… My boyfriend offered to live with him, and I couldn’t refuse. You understand, right?? Thank you…"
Yuqi had barely gotten out a, “Wait, what? Minnie, I just signed the lease—hold on—” before the call ended.
That was two days ago.
Now, here she was, sitting in a café with you, still trying to figure out how to deal with it.
And your grand solution? Living together.
Yuqi swirls her straw in her drink, staring at you like you’ve just suggested something insane—which, to be fair, you have.
“I also have to move next month,” you continue, unfazed. “My office is closer there. So it’s perfect timing.”
“No way. Too weird—thanks, but no.” She chugs her drink, as if that will help wash away the absurdity of this conversation. “For now, I’ll call the real estate office for a cancellation.”
“And your job starts next month,” you counter, unfazed. “Good luck apartment-hunting in zero time.”
“Hmm… I guess I’ll have to postpone my work too.” Her fork idly plays with the remains of her cake, breaking it down into a mess of crumbs. Just moments ago, she had been enjoying it, and now she can’t even bring herself to take another bite. “I’ll just go back to my parents’ house, and—”
“You can’t do that.”
Yuqi frowns. “What?”
“Did you forget? I also wanted to go home, and you didn’t let me. That’s the reason I got the job I was dreaming of.”
She clicks her tongue. “See what happens when you just listen to me?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself— Give it up, you’re not pushing back your work.” You lean back, arms crossed. “Am I not your friend? Aren’t we supposed to help each other when we’re in trouble?”
Yuqi exhales, pressing her lips together. As much as she hates to admit it, you have a point.
It’s only temporary. A practical solution. Why shouldn’t she take it?
For the past two days, she had been dreading this mess—mentally calculating costs, debating whether she should force herself into a last-minute roommate arrangement with a complete stranger.
And now, just like that, you’ve handed her the perfect fix.
Her shoulders, tense from the weight of this problem, feel noticeably lighter. The only thing that irks her is that she didn’t think of this first.
“…Yeah, you’re right. We’re friends.” She leans back, eyeing you. “There’s no reason for me to decline. Especially not after all that pleading.”
“pleading?? I’m not the one who needs help here.”
“Fine. How much you chipping in?”
“Fifty-fifty. What, you think I’m just going to give you easy money?”
“If you’re volunteering…” She smirks, leaning in just enough to taunt.
You shake your head, scoffing. “Unbelievable.”
And so, the cohabitation between you and Yuqi begins.
~~~
There are private rooms, clear boundaries. As long as neither of you misjudges the sense of distance between you, nothing will change.
At least, that’s what you both assume.
The first few weeks go exactly as expected—well, mostly.
Yuqi doesn’t have to worry about rent anymore. There’s no awkward adjustment period, no need to tiptoe around like she would with a stranger. You’re not the worst person to live with, either. Sure, you’re irritating sometimes—leaving your notes scattered on the dining table, stealing the last of the coffee, acting smug whenever you manage to fix something she can’t—but she’s always known that about you.
What she didn’t expect was how quickly she gets used to you being there.
It’s the little things.
The way she hears the front door open and instinctively knows it’s you. The way you always leave the light on when you come home late because you know she stays up reading.
One night, she passes by the kitchen and finds you there, reheating food. You glance up. “You haven’t eaten yet?”
She shrugs, stealing a piece of your food before you can swat her hand away. “Hey—”
“It’s fine, I’m not that hungry.”
You exhale, shaking your head. “You do this every time. Don’t be a hypocrite.”
Yuqi frowns. “What?”
“You always scold me for skipping meals, but look at you.”
She rolls her eyes, but something in her chest stirs at the fact that you noticed.
It happens again when she comes home exhausted one evening and finds her favorite drink sitting on the counter. When she glances at you, raising a brow, you just shrug. “Thought you’d need it.”
And again, when she’s cramming for a presentation and you drop a snack beside her without a word.
She tells herself it’s normal. You’re friends. Friends do things like this.
Another moment.
Yuqi is in the kitchen early one morning, half-awake as she absentmindedly flips an egg in the pan. She isn’t much of a cook, but breakfast is simple enough—something warm to start the day before the madness of work and school kicks in.
She’s focused on the sizzling sound, the comforting routine of it, when she suddenly feels movement behind her.
Then—warmth.
You’re reaching over her, one hand bracing the counter beside her, the other stretching toward the cupboard above.
For a split second, she’s caught off guard by how close you are—close enough that she can feel the faint heat of your body against her back, close enough that she catches the lingering scent of your shampoo, something fresh and clean.
Her heartbeat stutters.
Instinct kicks in before logic does, and she turns around—only to make things worse.
Now, instead of your presence behind her, she’s face-to-face with you.
Too close.
Way too close.
Her eyes meet yours, and for some reason, it feels like neither of you moves for a second too long. Her pulse is loud in her ears, and she doesn’t know why she’s suddenly so aware of the way her breath catches—why her fingers tighten slightly around the spatula in her hand.
She’s being weird again.
“You…” She clears her throat, trying to sound unaffected. “Need something?”
You blink, as if snapping out of it, and gesture toward the cupboard. “Just getting a mug.”
Right. Obviously.
She mentally curses herself and quickly steps aside, turning her focus back to the stove. It’s nothing. You’re just tired. That’s all.
But then one morning, she walks into the living room, still groggy from sleep, and finds you sitting on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on your phone. Sunlight streams through the window, catching in your hair. You’re wearing that old, worn-out hoodie you refuse to throw away, looking like you belong there—like you belong with her.
And something about it makes her stomach flip in a way it shouldn’t.
Yuqi stands frozen in the hallway, gripping her coffee mug, heartbeat slightly off rhythm.
She doesn’t like where her thoughts are going.
She really, really doesn’t.
So she does what she always does when faced with something uncomfortable—she brushes it aside.
She’s just being weird.
It’s nothing.
It has to be nothing.
“Hey.”
Your voice cuts through the silence, snapping Yuqi out of her thoughts.
She blinks, stiffening slightly. “What?”
“You got any plans today?”
Her mind races. Why is he asking? Is he—wait, is he inviting me somewhere? A… date?
“Wh—why?” she asks, trying (and failing) to sound casual.
You shrug. “Nothing. Just asking.” There’s a pause before you add, “I’ll be home late, though. No need to wait up.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms. “Since when do I wait for you?”
You don’t answer, and somehow, that makes it worse.
Irritated, she presses on. “Why? Where are you going?”
“Meeting someone,” you say, vague as hell.
Her brows crash together. “Wait—a date? What, you’re flaunting it now?”
You smirk, dodging the question, and something sour twists in her gut—she hates that smirk, hates how it needles her, hates that she cares.
Before she can push further, a realization slams into her. “Oh—shit, work!”
Panic sets in as she scrambles toward the bathroom, cursing under her breath. Just as she reaches the door, she pauses, whipping around to point an accusing finger at you.
“Fuck you, you did that on purpose. You were distracting me!”
From the couch, you barely glance up from your phone before lazily flipping her off.
She slams the bathroom door, heart thudding too hard to unpack.
Hours later, she’s a wreck—work crushed her soul, her boss barely grunted at her efforts, and every mistake she made still burns.
She doesn’t even remember how she made it home. Everything from today—the endless stress, the way her boss barely acknowledged her work, the stupid mistakes she made because she was too exhausted to think straight—it all clings to her like dead weight.
It feels even shittier knowing what today was supposed to be.
Her first work anniversary. One year. A milestone that should mean something, should feel like progress. Instead, she feels like she’s still fumbling, still struggling to prove herself, still barely keeping up.
Her head pounds. Her chest feels tight.
And maybe—just maybe—what makes it worse is that today also marks one year since she moved in with you.
One year of this place feeling like home.
But right now, standing in the entryway, shoes barely kicked off, she just feels… drained.
She wants to cry.
Not in a dramatic, loud way. Just… silently. Curled up on the couch, alone in the dimly lit apartment, where she could finally let go without anyone seeing.
She’s relieved you aren’t home yet.
She doesn’t have to keep it together.
With a deep breath, she pushes open the door—
Pop!
Confetti explodes, and Yuqi flinches, pulse spiking as cake-scent floods her senses.
Streamers dangle, a crooked banner sags on the wall, and there you are—grinning like an idiot with a party popper, like you didn’t just ambush her fragile grip on sanity.
“Congratulations!”
She just… stares.
The weight—dread, fatigue, the whole suffocating mess—frays apart, leaving her raw.
“You made it a whole year,” you continue, motioning toward the cake on the table. “That’s huge. So, you know… I figured we should celebrate.”
It’s too much.
Not in the way work had been too much.
But in the way you always are.
Always paying attention. Always noticing the things she doesn’t say.
Always making it impossible for her to pretend this—you—don’t matter more than they should.
Her throat tightens.
Her fingers twitch, and she grips the strap of her bag a little harder, like she needs to hold onto something—anything—to keep herself from completely unraveling in front of you.
Right now, she wants to collapse into you—arms, warmth, all of it—and that scares her shitless.
She swallows hard, choking out, “You’re an idiot,” as she steps past, voice thinner than she means it to be.
“You’re welcome,” you shoot back easily, like this is just another one of your usual exchanges.
She sets her bag down. Breathes in.
But it’s different now. Everything feels different now.
Because this isn’t something she can brush off anymore.
Not when the sight of you—standing there, waiting for her—could turn her worst day into something else entirely.
She thought to herself. At this rate…
… we couldn’t be friends anymore…
… Is what you thought.
It crept up on you slowly.
At first, living with Yuqi was just supposed to be convenient. A temporary solution, nothing more. You were friends—it was easy, effortless, like always.
But then, things started changing.
You woke up earlier than expected, your throat dry, half-asleep as you dragged yourself toward the kitchen.
But before you could even reach the sink, the bathroom door swung open—
—and Yuqi stepped out. signing in fragments, lyrics clearly improvised, steam curling around her like a scene straight out of a movie.
Your brain short-circuited.
Dripping hair. Bare shoulders. A towel wrapped hugging around her body, another loosely draped over her head. She wasn’t even fully dry yet, droplets trailing down her collarbone, tracing down to her chest, disappearing beneath—
Oh, fuck.
She froze mid-step, finally noticing you.
“Oh, shit!”
Your mouth opened before your brain could catch up. “Morning.”
Her grip tightened on the towel around her chest. “You—you’re up early.”
“And you’re… in towels.”
A beat of silence.
Don’t say something stupid. Don’t say something stu—
“Yeah, you have to stop doing that.”
Yuqi scowled. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I wouldn’t if that wasn’t my towel on your head.”
“why is it a big deal, this is my home—”
“I pay for half.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It’s my house. I’ll do what I want.”
And before you could argue, she yanked the towel off her head and chucked it straight at your face.
By the time you pulled it away, she was already gone, bolting to her room like her life depended on it.
Then—
A muffled scream of frustration from behind her door.
You exhaled sharply, pressing the towel against your face—less to dry off, more to hide the heat creeping up your skin.
“Fuck.”
Then there was this one time, when you were setting up the new shelf.
Yuqi insisted she didn’t need help—because of course she did—but five minutes in, she was already struggling to balance the frame while reaching for the screws.
"You're gonna drop it," you warned, watching from the couch.
"I'm not gonna drop it," she shot back, fumbling with the last screw.
The universe, apparently, took that as a challenge.
The shelf wobbled. Yuqi yelped. And before either of you could react, she lost her footing.
She crashed into you, sending you both toppling backward.
A thud, a gasp, and suddenly—
She was on top of you.
Chest pressing into yours. Hands braced on either side of your head. Her face so close that you could feel her breath against your lips, just barely—
Neither of you moved.
Yuqi’s eyes flickered down—just for a second, barely noticeable—before snapping back up, wide and unguarded.
You swallowed.
“…You okay?” Your voice came out rougher than intended.
“I—” She blinked, like she just realized what happened. Her breath hitched. Then, in the most unconvincing voice possible— “Yeah. Totally fine.”
Neither of you made a move to get up.
The moment stretched, tension thick enough to drown in.
Then—
“Yuqi.”
“What?”
“You're still on top of me.”
“…Oh. Right.”
She scrambled off, way too fast for someone who was supposedly “totally fine.” Turning away, she ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply.
You sat up, clearing your throat. The air between you still felt charged, buzzing with something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.
She finally looked at you—pointedly not at your lips.
“Shut up,” she muttered.
You hadn’t even said anything yet.
And then there were the bad days.
Yuqi was loud.
You were used to it by now—the way she talked, argued, and debated like she was on some national stage. But tonight, it was worse. Her voice carried through the living room, sharp and insistent, cutting through the walls of your room.
You could tell she wasn’t just talking—she was venting.
You didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t step in.
Just waited.
Then—
A knock on your door.
Soft, hesitant. Almost out of character.
“…You wanna drink?”
When you opened the door, Yuqi was standing there, arms crossed, gaze flickering to the side. The frustration from earlier had dimmed, replaced by something more subdued.
You didn’t question it. Just grabbed your jacket. “Let’s go.”
The city felt different at night. Quieter, almost peaceful, the usual rush of people replaced by empty sidewalks and the occasional streetlight glow.
Yuqi walked beside you, hands stuffed in her pockets, gaze tilted toward the sky. The stars were faint, barely visible between the buildings, but she looked at them anyway.
“…You ever feel like you’re running out of time?”
You glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
She exhaled, kicking a stray pebble on the pavement. “I dunno. Just—sometimes it feels like I need to keep going. Like if I stop, even for a second, I’ll fall behind. And I hate that feeling.”
You stayed quiet, letting her talk.
“But then I think… what if I don’t even know where I’m running to?”
That, you understood.
You let the silence settle before answering. “You don’t have to figure everything out now, you know.”
She scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“Is it?” You gave her a pointed look. “You’re the one who’s always giving me advice.”
Yuqi opened her mouth—then shut it, visibly chewing over your words.
You smirked. “Not so fun being on the other end, huh?”
She shoved your shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”
The walk continued, and little by little, the weight in her expression faded. The tension in her shoulders eased, her usual energy returning in small doses—first in the way she kicked at a stray pebble, then in how she scoffed at one of your dumb remarks.
By the time you made it back to your place, she was… lighter.
As you reached the door, she stretched her arms above her head with a sigh. “You know what? I don’t think I need that drink anymore.”
You raised a brow. “So I got dragged out here for nothing?”
“I never dragged you—”
You gave her a look.
“…Okay, maybe a little,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. Then, after a beat, softer—“But it helped, so. Thanks.”
A pause.
Then, quieter—“I mean it.”
You stared at her, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a halo over her face.
Something shifted.
The air felt heavier, charged with something neither of you dared name. It would’ve been easy to brush it off, to make a joke and keep walking—
But before you could find the words, she turned away, already unlocking the door.
“Alright, I’m going to bed. Night, loser.”
The moment passed, or at least, it should have.
But just as you were about to head to your room, Yuqi hesitated.
She turned back, her hand lingering on the doorknob, lips parting like she wanted to say something—then stopping. You caught it then, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, rare and fleeting.
And then, finally—
“…Hey.”
You raised a brow. “What?”
She exhaled, tapping her fingers against the doorframe. “Do you remember that stupid bet we made during freshman year?”
You blinked. “Which one?”
“The one where if either of us ever fell for the other, your dic…” She trailed off, then cleared her throat. “Y’know. And I’d have to shave my head.”
You let out a short laugh. “Oh. That bet.”
Back then, rumors about you two dating spread so quickly it became a joke among your classmates. You and Yuqi played along, turning it into a challenge—there’s no way we’d fall for each other. If either of you did, the consequences were extreme.
It was dumb.
It was funny.
It should’ve stayed that way.
But that night?
that night, the words felt heavier.
You studied her expression, trying to gauge where she was going with this. “Why? You getting nervous?”
She scoffed. “Pfft. You wish.”
But there was something in the way she said it. A little too quick, a little too defensive.
You smirked. “Worried about your hair, huh?”
“More like you should be worried,” she shot back, but she wasn’t looking at you when she said it.
You snorted. “Unfair, by the way. I have to cut my dick off, while you only have to shave your head. I can’t believe we agreed to it.”
“…Me either,” she mumbled under her breath.
It was so quiet, so fleeting, you almost missed it. Almost.
For a split second, neither of you spoke.
Then she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I was just asking. Night, loser.”
Before you could respond, she was inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
You stood there for a second, staring at the empty space where she had just been.
Your bet.
Freshman year.
We will never fall for each other.
You exhaled, running a hand down your face as the thought echoed in your head.
It was supposed to be a joke. A ridiculous bet between two people who swore they’d never be that kind of cliché.
And yet…
Tonight happened.
You expected her to be surprised by the celebration. Maybe even a little annoyed at the mess—the scattered decorations, the cake waiting on the table, the small banner you hastily put together.
What you didn’t expect was the way her expression cracked—just for a second. The way her eyes softened, something raw and unguarded flickering across her face before she caught herself. Before she scoffed, gripping her bag a little too tightly, and muttered, “You’re such an idiot.”
You should’ve let it go. Just laughed, moved on, kept things the way they were.
But she didn’t move.
She stood there, caught between hesitation and something she wouldn’t name, and suddenly, it wasn’t just about tonight.
It was about all of it—the late-night talks when she came home exhausted but still found a way to smile, the quiet gestures, the way she made space for you without even realizing it.
It was the fact that today wasn’t just one year since she started her job.
It was one year since she moved in. One year since this place started feeling a little fuller. A little more like home.
And it hit you then.
All the moments that snuck up on you, that built up piece by piece until there was no more denying it.
Because at some point—somewhere between the shared space, the stolen glances, the lines you swore you’d never cross—
You started falling for her too.
The apartment was quiet except for the soft clinking of utensils against ceramic.
Yuqi sat across from you, the warm glow of the dining room light casting a soft hue over her face. She took a bite, chewing slowly, and then—there it was.
That small, bittersweet smile.
You didn’t know what it meant, not exactly. But you knew it wasn’t the usual smug grin she wore when she teased you, nor the triumphant smirk she had when she got her way.
It was softer. More subdued. Like she was savoring something that wasn’t just the food.
You should’ve looked away. Focused on your plate. Kept things normal. But you didn’t.
Instead, you watched her, your grip tightening around your fork as the weight of everything settled in your chest.
You weren’t looking at her as a friend. Not anymore.
After dinner, Yuqi disappeared into her room while you started cleaning up. You heard the faint rustling of fabric, the sound of a drawer closing, but you didn’t think much of it—until she reemerged.
She padded into the living room in an old t-shirt and a pair of short shorts, her hair slightly damp, probably from washing up. The sight of her like this—comfortable, effortless—made something twist in your chest, but you shoved it down.
Wordlessly, she plopped onto the couch as you finished wiping the table, then leaned back against the cushions, stretching her legs out lazily.
By the time you grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, she was already making herself at home, one arm draped over the backrest like she belonged there.
You handed her a can, and she took it without a word, cracking it open with a soft hiss.
The TV flickered in the dimly lit apartment, the background noise of a movie filling the space between you.
At some point, between the second beer and the slow lull of the film, Yuqi leaned into the cushions, her body naturally angling toward yours.
Neither of you said much—just the occasional comment, the quiet laughter. But even in the silence, it felt... easy. Comfortable.
And then the credits rolled.
The screen faded to black, leaving nothing but the soft glow from the city lights seeping through the window. The noise stopped.
And yet, you didn’t reach for the remote.
You glanced at her, watching as she traced the rim of her bottle with her thumb. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something contemplative in the way she exhaled, sinking deeper into the couch.
You hesitated, then asked, “Everything okay at work?”
She blinked, as if shaking off a thought. “Ye—yeah. Just some problems here and there, I guess.”
“Nothing you couldn’t handle, I assume.”
She snorted, tilting her head to look at you. “Of course not. Do you even know who you’re talking to?”
There she was again—the Yuqi you knew. The one who never backed down, who met everything head-on with that sharp, unshaken confidence.
But you’d seen her earlier. The way she lingered at the door. The way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes tonight.
You hummed, setting your bottle down. “That so?”
Her brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” you mused, stretching your arm along the back of the couch. “Just wondering if the great Song Yuqi is finally showing signs of weakness.”
She scoffed, turning to fully face you now, eyes narrowing. “You—”
Then, without warning, she flicked your forehead. Hard.
You flinched. “Ow—what the hell?”
“That’s for being annoying,” she said smugly, leaning back like she’d won something.
Oh. That’s how she wanted to play it?
Fine.
You barely gave her a second to react before your hand shot out, fingers pressing into her side.
The moment she realized what was happening, her smirk vanished.
“Wait—no! No, no, no! Don't tickle me” she yelped, twisting away instinctively. “You—asshole—stop!”
But you didn’t stop.
“Think you can flick me and walk away?” you taunted, fingers digging into her sides, relentless as she writhed against the couch, laughter spilling wild between you.
You pressed in, grinning, chasing her squirming frame—her giggles breaking apart into breathless, jagged bursts. She swatted at you, sloppy and weak, but you had the upper hand, her strength no match for yours.
“Admit it,” you teased, skimming the tender spot just below her ribs, knowing it’d unravel her.
“N-never—!” she choked out, twisting under you, her voice fraying as she fought your grip.
The couch groaned under the tussle—her thrashing, your weight shifting—and without thinking, you slid forward, pinning her deeper into the cushions. Your knee nudged between her thighs, pressing firm against her heat.
It didn’t register at first—too lost in the game, her laughter ringing sharp and bright. But then her giggles stumbled, thinning into ragged breaths. Her hands, once shoving, latched onto your arms, fingers digging in—not pushing now, but clinging.
You felt it—the hitch in her chest, the way her body stiffened, then softened, melting against you. Her laughter faded, replaced by something breathier, needier—a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a plea.
And then it slipped out—a moan, soft and unbidden, trembling past her lips.
Everything froze.
Your fingers stalled against her waist, her nails bit into your skin, and the air turned thick, electric. Her eyes snapped wide, lips parted, shock flickering over her face as her breath raced—short, shallow, unraveling.
Your pulse thundered, drowning out the silence, and that’s when you clocked it—your knee, still wedged between her thighs, pressed flush against her warmth.
Neither of you moved.
Neither of you breathed.
The laughter was dead.
Something else took its place—hot, heavy, and undeniable.
You cleared your throat, a feeble attempt to break the spell, to shake off the weight of what had just happened. Slowly, you pulled away, putting space between you before you lost the will to.
Your eyes flickered anywhere but at her—afraid to see what lingered in her expression. Fear? Surprise? Or something else entirely?
You pushed yourself up, ready to remove yourself from the couch, from the heat still clinging to your skin—But then. A tug. Subtle, hesitant.
Fingers curled around your wrist, just tight enough to stop you. To hold you in place.
To keep you from leaving the moment.
You turned, catching the flush creeping up her neck, her lips parted as she refused to meet your gaze.
“Yuqi…” you groaned, your voice strained, warning.
Her grip on your wrist tightened. “Do—don’t leave.”
That was all it took.
You moved back toward her, hesitant but drawn in all the same. The space between you shrank, your breath mingling with hers, lips barely a whisper apart. Her fingers twitched against your skin, but she didn’t pull away.
You could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her chest rose and fell, the way her body swayed ever so slightly in your direction. Just a little more and—
“Wait—!”
Her hands shot up, pressing against your chest—not forceful, not pushing you away completely, but enough to halt you in place.
Your jaw clenched. You stayed there, hovering, pulse hammering in your throat.
“What do you want, Yuqi?” you asked, your voice low, steady despite the storm inside you. “Be clear with me.”
She hesitated, eyes darting anywhere but yours. You felt it—the war within her, the pull and the push, the fear and the want.
You exhaled, nodding slightly. “Okay.”
You started to move back, giving her the space she seemed to need—
But then, just as you did, her arms looped around your neck, her body pressing against yours, her warmth, her scent, her head rising for her lips to meet yours.
Briefly, she pulls away gauging your reaction.
You cursed under your breath, a quiet, ragged sound, because you knew—knew—that if she kept holding onto you like this, you wouldn’t be able to stop.
Your hands found her waist, fingers curling instinctively, and before you could think better of it, you scooped her up.
Yuqi gasped, eyes widening. “Wha—what are you doing?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
You carried her past the dimly lit hallway, You stop at before the doors of your rooms.
Yuqi who had grasp your intention, murmured close to your chest “Mine—my room.” giving a answer to your conundrum.
Carrying her through the threshold of her room, our grip firm yet careful, your body thrumming with something dangerously close to surrender.
Then, as gently as you could, you set her down.
The bed dipped beneath her weight, her body sinking into the sheets.
And for a moment—just one agonizing moment—silence stretched between you. To pause. To asses. To decide.
Her breath came in uneven waves, fingers clutching the comforter beneath her, knuckles whitening as if it were an anchor. She looked like she was bracing herself—teetering on the edge of a decision, weighing what came next.
You hovered above her, resolve fraying, the heat of her body pulling you closer, unraveling every thread of restraint—
“…The—the door,” she whispered, voice barely audible, trembling with something fragile.
You pulled back, glancing toward it. “If I lock that, there’s no turning back.”
Her eyes flickered, wide and searching, then steadied. “I—I think it’s… it’ll be okay. If it’s you, I want it.”
The door clicked shut with her words, a soft, final sound that echoed in the quiet. You returned to her, sliding back onto the bed, looming over her frame—close enough to feel the faint tremor in her breath. “Do you even know what you just said?”
“Stop talking to me like a kid,” she snapped, her voice sharpening, though it wavered at the edges.
“That’s not an answer.” You held her gaze, unflinching. “Do you want to sleep with me?”
“Uh… yes.” The word slipped out, small and shaky, laced with fear and a defiance testing her own limits. She swallowed hard, then added, “Why? Don’t you want to?”
You shifted closer, your nose brushing hers, so near you could taste the alcohol on her breath—sharp and warm, mingling with the heat radiating off her skin. Her heavy exhales grazed your lips, and the air between you thickened, charged with something neither of you could name.
“What is this?” you murmured, half to yourself. Song Yuqi—bold, unshakable Yuqi—lay beneath you, face flushed crimson, pride crumbling into doubt. Her words stumbled, her usual fire dimmed, and you couldn’t help but press. “Are you really Yuqi?”
Maybe you were stalling too—teasing her, skirting the edge of what you both knew was coming, afraid to leap.
Then, out of nowhere, her hand shot up, smacking your chin with a clumsy shove, forcing distance between you.
“Ugh! I don’t know anymore, okay?! I haven't done this before!” she yelled, voice cracking with frustration. “Just—hurry up and show me your dick already!”
Her legs thrashed, feet flailing against the mattress in a wild, petulant burst. “You—crazy—woman” you blurt out.
You lunged forward, seizing her ankles, pinning them to the mattress with a firm, unyielding grip. “Calm down,” you said, voice low and steady, anchoring her as her chest heaved, the wild outburst dissolving into a taut, trembling stillness.
Her eyes flashed, defiant even now. “What, are you scared?”
You leaned in close, her challenge igniting something reckless in you. “You’re about to get fucked senseless.”
She smirked, unshaken, her voice a dare. “I think you’re the one who’s sca—sacred. Prove it.”
You crashed into her, lips seizing hers with raw, tongue intruding into her mouth, bruising hunger. Your hand slid up, fingers knotting in the back of her hair, yanking her closer—deeper—until no space remained, her frantic breaths fusing with yours in a desperate, unrelenting tangle.
Your other hand found her breast, cupping it firmly, and a sharp whimper broke from her throat—soft, unguarded, trembling against your mouth.
You pulled back just enough to rasp, “Do you want more? Tell me if you don’t.” “Ah!” she gasped, startled by the sudden absence of your lips, her voice faltering. “Uh—uh… it’s okay…”
You dove back in, claiming her mouth again, fiercer now, your hand slipping beneath her shirt.
Fingers roamed her chest, squeezing through the thin fabric of her bra, rucking up her clothes in the chaos. The hem of her shirt climbed past her breasts, her bra tugged askew—one pale pink nipple already peeking free, stark against her skin.
“Yu—qi,” you murmured, breaking the kiss again, though your lips hovered close, tethered by a glistening thread of saliva that refused to snap. “Do you want this?”
“I want it, yes,” she panted, breathless, her words tumbling out in a rush.
You guided her arms up, stretching them straight above her head, and she followed—pliant, trusting.
Your hands gripped the edge of her dress, peeling it upward, sliding it off in one fluid pull. Then, just as swiftly, you hooked her shorts, tugging them down as she lifted her legs to help, the fabric slipping free and pooling forgotten on the floor.
There she lay—pale skin glowing faintly in the dim light, her fit frame taut and trembling. Blonde hair spilled across the bed in wild, tangled waves, framing her like a halo gone rogue. Her white underwear clung to her hips, stark against her flush, one bra strap sagging, the displaced cup exposing a modest breast, its pink nipple hardened in the cool air. She blushed deep, one arm crossing shyly over her waist, the other hovering near her mouth, fingers brushing her lips as if to hide.
Her eyes darted away, unable to hold yours. “Why are you just staring?” she mumbled, voice small, edged with nerves she couldn’t quite mask.
You exhaled, a faint chuckle slipping out as you shook your head. “I’m just trying to figure out how you still look like a menace even when you’re—” Your words snagged mid-sentence as her glare cut through you, her cheeks blazing.
“Don’t,” she warned, voice tight.
You smirked, tilting your head. “Don’t what?”
Her eyes narrowed, sharp and accusing. “You know what.”
You leaned in, your breath grazing her skin, close enough to feel her tense. “What? I thought you lived for praise about your beauty.”
She swallowed hard, throat bobbing, fingers twisting into the sheets. Then, so soft it nearly slipped past—
“It’s different when it’s you.”
“Well, you are beautiful, Yuqi. I mean it.”
Her breath hitched at the words, a flicker of protest rising—ready to snap at your sly jab—but before she could, your lips found her neck, pressing firm and warm. Your hand slid to her breast, fingers brushing the exposed nipple, teasing it into a stiff peak.
She stiffened, a fleeting push against your chest, but it melted away fast—her resistance crumbling as you lavished her skin with attention.
“It… tickles,” she murmured, voice wobbling, half a complaint, half a surrender.
Your hand snaked behind her, deftly unhooking her bra with a flick. You tugged it free, letting it fall aside, her breasts spilling out—modest, pale, and perfect in the dim light. No hesitation—you dove in, lips closing over one nipple, sucking gently while your fingers toyed with the other, rolling it between them.
“Hey,” she gasped, a shaky laugh threading through her words, “aren’t you too good at this?”
You didn’t answer, too lost in her—her taste, her warmth, the way her whimpers grew sharper, rewarding every flick of your tongue, every pinch of your fingers. You pulled back, just enough to take her in fully—sprawled beneath you, clutching the sheets with white-knuckled desperation. Her blonde hair fanned wild across the bed, pale skin flushed deep, chest rising and falling in jagged bursts.
Your hands returned, pinching both nipples now, firm and deliberate. Her eyes—barely open—fought to hold yours, glazed with pleasure, her tongue slipping out as her mouth parted. Words failed her, dissolving into a string of moans and broken whimpers, the only sounds she could muster as she drowned in the sensation.
Wa—wait a sec…” She propped herself up against the pillow, hands darting to your face. Her fingers dug into your cheeks, pulling you in—too close, her touch firm and insistent.
“Kissing really feels good, don’t you think?” she mused, voice lilting with forced casualness. Her thumbs brushed slow, deliberate circles against your skin, betraying the act. “Especially when you feel it—you know, with tongues and everything.”
You arched a brow, amusement curling your lips. “Are you fishing for a kiss?”
She scoffed, but her hands didn’t budge, fingers lingering like they’d fused to you. “I’m just saying,” she huffed, eyes flicking aside, dodging yours. “No harm in a little discussion, right?”
You smirked, reading her like an open book—her little game, the way she circled what she craved, betting you’d cave first. “Just discussing, then?” you teased, tilting your head with mock innocence. “So I shouldn’t do it?”
Her grip faltered, a flash of panic skittering across her face. “I didn’t sa—”
She didn’t finish.
Your lips crashed into hers, silencing her protest, swallowing her words in a swift, ravenous press. Her breath snagged against your mouth, a sharp hitch—and for a fleeting second, she froze, caught off guard. Then she melted, hands slipping to grip your jaw, and before you could take control, her tongue darted forward—bold and sure, sliding into your mouth like she’d been waiting for this all along. The kiss deepened fast, tongues clashing in a messy, heated tangle, her pretense torched by the hunger she couldn’t hide.
Your hands roamed, restless—sliding down her sides, then lower, until they settled at her crotch. Fingers brushed the fabric of her panties, then slipped beneath, meeting slick heat that made your pulse jump. She was already wet, soaked through, and a low groan rumbled in your throat as you felt her.
You pulled back from the kiss, lips parting with a wet smack, and her eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy. Your other hand hooked into her waistband, yanking the white fabric down her thighs in one rough tug, peeling it free and tossing it aside. She gasped, legs trembling as the cool air hit her bare skin.
“Already this wet?” you teased, voice gravelly, a smirk curling your lips. “You little pervert.”
Her face blazed red, embarrassment clashing with a spark of defiance in her eyes, but she didn’t pull back—her breath jagged, teetering between a snap and a whimper.
“Dum—dumbass, that’s what happens when—”
You didn’t let her finish. Your fingers pressed to her folds, slick and warm, rubbing along her slit with slow, deliberate strokes. Her grip on your neck tightened, nails biting into your skin, while her other hand fumbled to clutch your arm, trembling as her tongue slipped out, instinctive and desperate.
“Wha—what are you doing? St—stop—” she stammered, voice fracturing, but her hands betrayed her, sliding back to clutch the pillow behind her, knuckles whitening as she braced against the onslaught. “It fee—it feels weird. Really weird!” she cried, her tone pitching into a yell, raw and unraveling.
Her body locked tight for a split second—then shattered. Her back arched sharp off the bed, head snapping back into the pillow, a convulsion ripping through her as her thighs quaked. A rush of wet heat surged against your hand, her juices spilling out, soaking your fingers and dripping onto the sheets beneath. Her breath came in broken gasps, chest heaving, her tongue lolling slightly as the waves crashed over her, leaving her trembling in their wake.
“Fuck… shit…” she rasped, hands flying to cover her face, the flush so deep it seemed to bleed through her fingers, staining them red.
You blinked, caught off guard. “Why are you suddenly cursing?”
“No, no, I mean…” She peeked through her hands, voice small but edged with frustration. “Be—because my sheets… they’re all wet now.”
“Oh, uh… sor—sorry…” you muttered, heat creeping up your own neck.
Her eyes flicked to yours, still glassy from the haze, then narrowed with a glint of mischief. “Then… hurry up and take off your pants already,” she ordered, voice low and impatient.
You rose to your feet on the bed, shedding your pants and briefs in a quick, fumbling pull, letting them drop away. Your dick sprang free, hard and hovering above her as she sat back on her knees, gazing up at you. The sight alone—her pale, flushed body, blonde hair spilling wild, those sharp eyes locked on you—hit like a punch, and her intense stare only made it worse. You couldn’t hold it; your gaze skittered away, heat crawling up your neck.
“Hmmm… hey, what’s wrong?” she hummed, a smug grin creeping across her lips. “Why’re you suddenly shy now?”
“It’s reasonable with this view,” you muttered, voice snagging in your throat, barely dodging her piercing stare.
“Is that so?” Her smug grin bloomed wide, teetering on a giggle. She edged closer, her face drifting nearer—dangerously near—to your cock, so close a twitch could’ve brushed her lips. Then her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your length, forming a tight ring just below the head. The sudden heat of her grip hit you hard—soft skin, firm pressure, a jolt of warmth that shot straight up your spine, making your breath catch and your hips tense instinctively. She started stroking, slow and deliberate, her palm sliding smooth against you, each pull tugging a raw, electric pulse through your core. “How is it? Is it okay? Does it feel good? Does it hurt?”
“You know, for someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing, you’re pretty damn bold,” you said, half-breathless, a smirk tugging despite the way her touch was unraveling you—every stroke a tease, her fingers tight enough to edge you toward losing it.
She ignored you, eyes flicking up with a glint of mischief, her hand keeping its rhythm—steady, maddening, the friction building heat that made your thighs twitch. “Doesn’t it feel good? Are you in paradise yet? You can cum—go ahead, it’s fine! Cum quick! Why aren’t you cumming? What’s wrong?!” Her questions tumbled out, fast and insistent, voice rising with a mix of glee and frustration.
“Yuqi, calm down,” you managed, voice straining as her pace quickened your pulse, her grip coaxing a throb you could barely hold back. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“It’s so warm,” she said, a grin tugging at her lips, “I could use it as a hand warmer.”
“Then tell me when you’re cold next time,” you shot back, half-jesting, legs trembling as you teetered between giving in to the pleasure and laughing at her ridiculous innocence. “I’ll whip it out for you.”
Her hand stilled mid-stroke, eyes snapping up to meet yours—sharp, focused, like she’d just clocked her next move and was weighing whether to go for it. Then she did. Her lips parted, soft and tentative, brushing against your tip. She pressed forward, mouth opening wider, her tongue flicking out to guide you in, warm and wet as it curled around the head.
She lingered there, treating it like a lollipop—licking slow, deliberate laps, tilting her head with each pass as if testing every angle. Her movements were clumsy, unpracticed—teeth grazing you now and then, a faint scrape that sent a jolt through you. A stray thought flickered: She might actually bite it.
And then, as if she’d snatched the thought right out of your skull, the ever-impulsive Yuqi went for it. Her teeth clamped down—not hard, just a quick pinch—sending a jolt of shock and a strange, sharp thrill spiking up your spine.
“Fuck—let go, you dumbass!” You yanked yourself back, pulling free from her mouth with a hiss.
“What the hell made you think biting it was a good idea?!”
“Ahh, sorry, sorry—I’m really sorry!” she blurted, eyes wide with panic, guilt flooding her face so fast it almost convinced you she didn’t mean it. “I didn’t even realize what I was doing!”
“Song Yuqi, get over here,” you said, voice firm, cutting through her fluster.
“Ar—are you okay?” she stammered, inching closer, her tone softening like a scolded puppy caught in the act. “Looks like you’re fine, though…”
You tugged her by her waist, laying her flat on the bed, your hand curling around her hip to pull her close. Fingers traced a slow, deliberate path from her knees up to her core, brushing her skin with intent. “Why’d you try to bite me? Do you want to be scolded, is that it?”
She turned her head, dodging your stare, her voice sinking to a sheepish mumble. “It looked delicious… so I thought I’d take a bite…”
You leaned in, capturing her lips again, kissing her deep and slow as you shifted between her thighs. Your hands nudged her legs apart, her skin warm and trembling under your touch. Your cock brushed her folds—slick, hot, a fleeting graze that made her breath hitch against your mouth.
You pulled back, eyes dropping to your shaft, guiding it with a steady hand. Your tip nudged her entrance, teasing her pussy with shallow dips, testing her heat. “Yuqi, you want to keep going?”
“Huh… How—how many times are you gonna ask?” she huffed, voice quivering, each word stuttering in time with the faint pulses of your cock against her. “Are you deaf…?”
You pressed in, your tip slipping past her entrance, sinking just enough to feel her tighten around you. A whimper spilled from her lips, quick and sharp, and you froze. “Are you alright? Should I go slower…?”
“Y—yes…!” she gasped, breaths shallow and ragged, holding them like she could trap the sensation inside.
“Yuqi, I want you to be comfortable,” you murmured, voice low, careful. “Tell me if it hurts—”
“Hey…” Her eyes glimmered, wet with tears—some already streaking down her flushed cheeks. She grabbed one wrist with her other hand, pinning her arms above her head, a shaky attempt at control. “Fu—fucking a beauty like me must feel good, right…?”
Even now, she bluffed—voice cracking, bravado fraying—but she wasn’t wrong. She felt incredible, her walls gripping you tight, pulsing hot around the bare inch you’d slipped inside, coaxing you deeper despite her trembling.
“…You just want to keep messing with me, don’t you…?” she murmured, eyes glinting through the haze.
“You keep doing it too,” you shot back, a faint smirk tugging at your lips.
“I’m gonna move a little,” you said, voice low. “Tell me if it hurts.”
“Mmhh,” she hummed, nodding faintly, her breath already shallow.
You pressed deeper, sliding slow and steady, her heat swallowing you inch by inch. Her body tensed, a soft gasp escaping as you sank further.
“Does it hurt?” you asked, pausing. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, voice thin but firm, her eyes locked on yours.
“Then I’ll move a little more…?”
Your hands slid to her thighs, fingers digging into her soft flesh as you pulled her closer, burying your entire length inside her in one smooth thrust. She clenched around you, a tight, wet pulse that made your breath hitch.
“You’re really okay…?”
“Yeah… I’m good,” she managed, a shaky edge to her words. “Just… carry on, alright…?”
You grabbed her wrists, pinning them between you, tugging them toward your chest as you started to pump—slow at first, each thrust deliberate, feeling her stretch and yield. Her breath stuttered, eyes fluttering shut.
“Wha—what’s this… it feels so weird…” she gasped, voice breaking as her body rocked beneath you.
You quickened your pace, pounding faster, harder—stamina leaching with every sharp snap of your hips. Her moans poured out, jagged and piercing, swelling louder as you drove into her. Then, with a final thrust—deeper, fiercer than the rest—you buried yourself to the hilt, her head whipping back into the pillow, back bowing high off the bed. A raw, guttural moan ripped from her throat, her body quaking beneath you, clenching tight around your cock.
Out of breath, you propped yourself up on your arms, hovering over her sweat-slick frame. “Yuqi, you sure you’re okay? Should I go slower?”
She groaned, rolling her eyes despite the flush on her cheeks. “I told you I’m fine already—”
Her complaint drowned as you thrust back in, cutting her off, plunging deep to reclaim your rhythm. Her moans sang out again, sharp and sweet, and you drank them in, one hand finding her breast—cupping it firm, kneading the soft flesh, her nipple stiff and pressing into your palm like a needy pulse. You used it as leverage, anchoring yourself as you rocked into her.
“Raise your back,” you ordered, voice rough. She obeyed, arching up, and your hands slid to her waist, gripping her hips tight. With the new angle, you pulled her against you, thrusting harder, each slam sinking you deeper—her heat swallowing you, slick and tight, tugging you toward the brink.
The edge hit fast. Her walls spasmed around you, hot and relentless, a sudden, vise-like grip that yanked you over. You groaned low, thrusts stuttering as you came—thick, pulsing spurts flooding her, the wet heat of her pussy milking every last drop, a dizzying rush that blurred your senses. Yuqi shattered with you—her moans spiking into a broken cry, legs trembling, nails clawing the sheets as her climax tore through her. Her core clenched hard, a gush of warmth soaking you both, her body bucking against yours in wild, shuddering waves.
Exhausted, you slumped toward her, chest heaving. She met you halfway, mouth open, greedy—her lips crashing into yours, tongue darting out to pull yours in, tangling with a sloppy, desperate edge as she rode out the aftershocks pressed against you.
~🐶~
Yuqi teetered on the edge of consciousness, drunk on pleasure, her mind barely clinging to coherence in the quiet lull. She slumped back against you, her spine pressing into your chest as you hugged her tight from behind, your back braced against the headboard. Her breath came slow, ragged, her body limp yet humming with the afterglow.
Exhausted but not sated, she stirred as your hands roamed again. One slid to her breast, cupping it gently, fingers teasing the still-hard nipple—rolling it slow, coaxing a faint shiver from her. The other dipped lower, finding her clit, rubbing soft circles against the swollen bud. Her folds, slick and warm, rested heavy against your dick, subtly coating it with her dripping heat, a fresh trickle of her arousal seeping out as her body woke anew. She squirmed, a sleepy moan slipping free, her hips twitching instinctively into your touch—chasing more despite the haze.
Her mind spun, fragmented thoughts flickering through the haze: What should I do??
I’m actually doing it with him—with you.
Having sex with my friend—with you, of all people.
Yuqi’s thoughts snapped off, severed by a single, brutal thrust as you plunged back into her. Her body jolted, pinned tight against yours—your arms clamped around her, refusing her even an inch to squirm. A raw, involuntary moan tore from her throat, heat flooding her core as your cock filled her again, stretching her slick walls with a sudden, relentless pressure that made her head spin.
“You—you jerk!” she gasped, voice fracturing, each word sliced by whimpers and moans she couldn’t choke back. “Why did you suddenly—” Her sentence crumbled, drowned by the waves of pleasure rippling through her, your thrusts relentless, robbing her of breath and coherence. Her hand shot back, fingers tangling in your hair, yanking you closer in a clumsy, desperate retaliation—her nails scraping your scalp as she fought to reclaim some control.
“Fuck! It… feels so… good…” she moaned, the confession spilling out, her voice thick with surrender. Every slam of your hips sent a jolt through her—her insides clenching tight around you, a tingling heat pooling low, her thighs trembling against the onslaught.
Yuqi twisted her head toward you, lips parting, tongue lolling out in a silent plea. You met her halfway, your mouth crashing into hers, tongues tangling in a sloppy, wet mess—her saliva mixing with yours, sharp and bitter on her tastebuds, a hungry edge to the kiss that made her dizzy.
You paused, buried deep inside her, your length a thick, unyielding pressure stretching her core. Your voice rasped hot against her ear, rough and taunting. “Yuqi, why are you moaning so loud? You’re a total pervert, aren’t you?” Your hand clamped onto her breast, squeezing hard, fingers catching her nipple—pinching with a sharp twist that sent a jolt of heat stabbing through her chest, her skin tingling, raw under your grip.
“Wha—what?” The sudden stillness yanked her from her euphoria, your words sparking a flare of annoyance in her hazy mind. “I’m not a pervert! This is because—”
Her protest died as she felt you shift inside her—a subtle, deliberate twitch, just enough to press against her walls, sending a fresh ripple of pleasure curling through her belly. A whimper slipped out, soft and traitorously loud, snuffing her temper before it could catch.
“Is it because it doesn’t hurt anymore?” you teased, voice low, your breath grazing her neck. “You’re fully fitted to my cock now, is that it?” It wasn’t just a taunt—it was a truth she couldn’t dodge. She felt it: her body molded to you, slick and tight, every inch of her clinging like she’d been made for this. Denial burned on her tongue, but her silence betrayed her.
For a heartbeat, the air hung thick—then Yuqi felt it again. Your cock twitched inside her, a sudden, firm pulse that nudged against her walls, straining the tight grip she had on you. She barely registered it before your hands tightened on her hips, lifting her ass higher mid-thrust. The motion shoved her forward, a sharp jolt rocking through her core as you pumped harder, still buried deep. Her arms buckled under the force, knees skidding across the sheets, and she scrambled to catch herself—landing on all fours, ass propped high, her body trembling from the hot, aching stretch where you stayed lodged inside her.
“What are you—?!” she yelped, voice splintering, but before she could twist or protest, your weight shifted forward. You followed her down, pressing against her back—a solid, unrelenting heat pinning her in place as you kept thrusting, relentless, your rhythm unbroken, each slam sinking deeper into her slick, pulsing core.
uqi’s hand flailed back, fingers scrabbling for purchase against your relentless, rabid thrusts—each one slamming into her with a force that made her core throb and ache, a wild rhythm she couldn’t match. Tears streaked her cheeks, her cries spilling out sharp and broken as the pleasure drowned her, too much, too fast. Her grip faltered, and the bed seemed to tilt—your weight unsteady above her. In a clumsy tangle, you both toppled sideways, crashing onto the sheets. But the fall didn’t slow you—your hips kept pumping, unbothered, and now she was trapped. Your arms snaked around her, pinning her own against her chest, locking her tight in your embrace. She moaned helplessly, voice raw and trembling, as you ravaged her hole—each thrust a deep, merciless plunge that wrecked her from the inside out.
Then it hit—a sudden, electric shock blasted through Yuqi, sharp and blinding. Your cock struck her G-spot, a precise, brutal nudge that made her walls clamp down hard, a scream tearing from her throat as her body bucked wildly against you. You caught it—your rhythm shifted fast, seizing the moment. One hand hooked under her thigh, hoisting her leg up, twisting her into a scissoring sprawl. The angle split her open, and you drove deeper—impossibly deeper—your length grinding that spot with every thrust, a hot, pulsing pressure that sent shudders racing up her spine. Her slick heat drenched you, her core spasming out of control, and she couldn’t stop it—the moans, the tremors, the way her body gave in completely to the chaos you unleashed inside her.
Both of you gasped for air, a brief break settling in as your bodies stilled. The position shifted naturally—Yuqi’s eyes stayed clamped shut, too heavy to lift under the intensity, even now in the quiet. She couldn’t see, but she felt your shadow loom over her, your presence hovering close, a dark heat she sensed through her haze.
“Yuqi, get up,” you said, voice rough. She obeyed, dragging herself upright, though her lids barely cracked open—exhaustion weighing them down. You pulled her onto your lap, her thighs straddling yours, facing you. Your thrusts resumed, slower now, and she felt your mouth on her breast—lips sucking, tongue flicking her nipple, a wet, warm pull that sparked faint jolts through her chest. Her arms trembled as she propped herself against you.
Slowly, you reclined back, and Yuqi’s hands slid to the headboard, gripping it for balance. She didn’t know when it happened—her mind too foggy to track—but she realized she was moving, humping you on her own, hips rolling instinctively against your steady length. Her pace faltered, exhaustion creeping in, slowing her down. Then you took over—your hands gripped her hips, and you pumped up into her again, reigniting the fire in her core with each thrust.
Her hand shot to your hair, fingers twisting tight, yanking your face close. Her tongue lolled out, desperate, and you met it—your tongue tangling with hers, a sloppy, wet dance that tasted of sweat and need. “Hug me,” she rasped, tongue still out, voice thick. “Hug me,” she begged again, more frantic, a plea trembling on her lips.
Yuqi felt you overpower her—your arms wrapped around her, pulling her down until she crashed onto her back. She clung to you, arms looping around your neck, legs locking tight around your waist, holding you deep inside her. Any second now, she knew it—both of you teetering on the edge. Her thighs parted wider, welcoming your thrusts, her body aching for release.
Then it came. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave—her walls seized around you, spasming hard, a gush of heat flooding her core as she shattered. She felt you pull out mid-clench, your cock slipping free, and a split second later, the hot, thick splatter of your cum streaked across her skin—her belly, her thighs—branding her as her own climax pulsed through. Her moans choked off, her vision blurred, and her consciousness slipped away, fading to black as the last shudder rocked her limp frame.
~~~
Yuqi woke up to warmth—soft fabric against her skin, the dull ache in her limbs, and the distant hum of the world outside.
Her brows furrowed, still caught in the haze of sleep, but something felt… off. The scent in the air wasn’t quite hers. The bed didn’t feel quite right.
Then, as she shifted, the sensation of bare skin against unfamiliar sheets jolted her fully awake.
Her eyes snapped open. Sunlight streamed through her curtains, too bright, too loud, as her pulse pounded in her ears. Her room. She was in her room. But—
The sheets. They weren’t hers.
Panic flared in her chest as fragments of last night started to piece themselves together.
Her breath hitched.
Oh. Oh, shit.
She sat up too fast, wincing as soreness bloomed through her body. That was another thing—the ache in her muscles, the evidence of everything she’d done, everything she’d let happen.
And then, finally, she noticed—
The oversized shirt slipping past her shoulder, familiar but not hers.
Your shirt. Her grip on the fabric tightened.
This wasn’t happening.
But the soreness in her body told her it was. The unfamiliar sheets told her it was. Your shirt draped over her skin—your scent clinging to it—told her it was.
Yuqi’s breath came uneven as the full weight of what she’d done crashed over her.
She’d slept with you.
You.
Her friend. Her longtime friend.
A sharp pang of regret twisted in her chest, not because she hadn’t wanted it—God, that was the worst part—she had wanted it. She had kissed you back, had let you undress her, had clung to you like you were the only thing keeping her grounded.
But she hadn’t expected it. Not like this. Not when she wasn’t ready to risk everything.
Not when it could ruin you.
She raked her hands through her hair, cursing under her breath. How the hell did she let it get this far? How the hell did she let herself fall?
The silence of the room felt suffocating. And you—where were you? Were you regretting it too? Were you somewhere in the apartment, figuring out how to tell her this was a mistake?
Her stomach churned at the thought.
The smell of food drifted into the room, warm and familiar.
Yuqi swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the bedsheet.
You’re cooking.
That meant you were still here. That meant you hadn’t run off in regret, hadn’t left her alone in this mess she didn’t know how to clean up.
Maybe… maybe it’s not too late.
If she just acted normal—if she pretended last night was a mistake, a stupid, drunken slip-up—maybe things wouldn’t have to change.
Maybe she wouldn’t have to lose you.
Yuqi exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temples. Her thoughts spiraled, one after the other, faster than she could catch them.
What if you wanted to forget too? What if you were in the kitchen right now, thinking of ways to brush it off, to laugh about it, to shove it in the back of your minds where it could rot, untouched?
Could you both really pretend it didn’t happen? Could she?
She forced herself out of bed, her legs weak beneath her, the oversized fabric of your shirt hanging off her frame. She had to face you. She had to fix this before it shattered into something she couldn’t repair.
With careful steps, she made her way to the kitchen.
And there you were. Standing by the stove, spatula in hand, acting like this was just any other morning.
Her chest clenched.
Maybe it could be. Maybe if she played it right, you could go back.
She took a deep breath, steadied herself, then tried.
“So,” she started, keeping her voice light. Too light. “What’s for breakfast, chef?”
You turned slightly, meeting her gaze. And for a second—just a second—something flickered in your expression.
Something unreadable.
But then you smirked. “Figured you’d need something to get your strength back after last night.”
Her stomach dropped.
She forced a laugh. “Oh, shut up.”
You plated the food, setting it on the counter. “Not hungry?”
Yuqi hesitated. Her fingers curled around the hem of your shirt—her only layer of protection against the vulnerability clawing up her throat.
This was slipping. She could feel it.
“Look,” she said, trying to sound casual, like she wasn’t barely holding herself together. “Last night was… you know. We were drunk, and it just… happened.”
You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you grabbed a glass of water, taking a slow sip before setting it down.
Then, you leveled her with a look.
“And?”
Yuqi blinked. “And?”
You leaned against the counter, arms crossing over your chest. “Are you trying to say it was a mistake?”
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Because that’s not what she meant—not really.
But if she didn’t say it, if she didn’t put that distance back, she didn’t know what would happen.
She didn’t know if she could handle what would happen.
“I just think,” she tried again, voice weaker this time, “that we should just… go back. Like before. We don’t have to—”
“Yuqi. You know that's bullshit.”
She froze.
"That was four cans between us. You can drink five alone and still balance on a pole—don't act like that was the reason.”
The way you said her name—steady, firm, like you’d already made up your mind—it made her stomach twist.
“Before isn’t an option,” you said simply.
Four cans.
That’s all it was. Just four stupid cans.
And yet, here you were, looking at her like you were about to ruin everything.
The air in the room shifted—her room, but suddenly it didn’t feel like hers anymore. The sheets smelled like you, the oversized shirt hanging off her shoulders wasn’t hers either. Nothing felt like hers anymore, not even her own body, sore in places she had no right to acknowledge.
Her stomach twisted, panic crawling up her throat. No. No, no, no—
Her gaze dropped to the floor, unable—unwilling—to look at you. If she saw your face, if she saw the regret, the indifference, or worse, the pity—it would break her.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she blurted, voice thin, barely holding together. Maybe if she said it first, if she got ahead of it, she could stop whatever came next.
But then—
“Yuqi, being friends with you has been fun, but—”
But.
That one word shattered everything.
No. Not like this. Not you.
“But what?” Her voice cracked, too raw, too exposed. “Is that it? Over just like that?”
You didn’t say anything, and it made her chest tighten, like her ribs were caving in.
“Did you hate it that much?” she forced out, her hands fisting in the fabric of the sheets.
“No, Yuqi, not like that. Let me talk—”
“To what? To hear your excuse?” Her voice rose, frantic now. “How can you talk so calmly? Is that how it is? I’m the only one who actually valued this friendship? I make one mistake, and you’re already ready to leave?”
“Yuqi. Look at me.”
There was a weight in the way you said her name—stern, unyielding—but she didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t.
Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she dug them into the mattress, nails pressing into the fabric, grounding herself.
“Why can’t you just stay?” Her voice was barely above a whisper now, desperate, fraying at the edges. “I’m sorry, okay? This—this was a one-time thing. That’s it. So you don’t have to leave. It doesn’t mean anything.”
It was a lie. A pathetic, miserable lie.
But if saying it kept you from walking away, then she’d let it shatter her.
Except—
Before she could breathe, before she could take it back—
Your lips crashed into hers.
You knew what she was thinking. You knew how much she was spiraling, how the weight of her own fears was crushing her. And maybe—probably—it was best to just tell her, to stop her panic before it got any worse.
But watching her like this, hopelessly caught in her own misunderstanding, her pride stripped away, her vulnerability laid bare… you couldn’t help but find her cute.
So you kissed her.
When you pulled away, her breath was shaky, her wide eyes darting between yours.
“Will you listen to me now?”
She nodded—barely, hesitantly—before her gaze dropped back to the floor.
You sighed. “Yuqi, we’ve been friends for a while—”
Her head shot up so fast you almost laughed. Her eyes were glassy, lips parted as if she was about to say something—
But before she could, you kissed her again, swallowing whatever words she had.
“We’ve been friends for a while,” you repeated against her lips, softer this time. “And I thought we were always going to stay that way. But this past year…”
She was shaking now, small, uneven trembles as her tears finally spilled over. She pouted, biting her lip, trying so hard to keep it together. You placed a hand on her head, fingers threading through her hair, petting her gently.
That was the trigger.
The dam broke.
Her shoulders shook as she let out a muffled, choked sob, burying her face into your chest.
You couldn’t help but chuckle. “But this past year, Yuqi…” You wiped her tears away with your thumbs, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to look at you. “I realized how dumb I was to keep thinking of you as just a friend. An amazing woman like you—you’re funny, you’re smart, you work hard, you’re pre—beautiful, and above all, you’re confident in everything you do…”
Then, with a smirk, you added, “And it’s absolutely hilarious when you’re wrong.”
She punched you—hard enough to send the message, but too weak to actually hurt.
“What I’m trying to say is, I like you. And just like you, I was scared of losing you too, Yuqi.”
She sniffled, hastily wiping at her face, the reality of your words finally sinking in.
“…That’s why, um—”
“What?!”
“I’m asking—can we be together?”
Her breath hitched.
And then, with no warning, the tears came rushing back as she smacked your chest. “Of course we can, you idiot! Why didn’t you say that first?!”
You had no excuse, only laughter. You pulled her into your arms, and she clung to you just as tightly.
“Yuqi…” you whispered, lips brushing against her ear.
You kissed her cheek. Then her forehead. Then her lips. Slowly, tenderly, you moved downward, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, her neck—
And then, a loud growl rumbled through the silence.
Yuqi stiffened.
You froze.
And then—
You let out a loud snort.
Yuqi turned bright red. “Don’t—don’t laugh! I hate you.”
You grinned, pulling away just enough to meet her eyes. “I like you.”
She huffed, still flustered.
You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Do you at least like my cooking?”
Her voice was small, barely above a mumble.
“…I—I like it.”
You smirked, reaching for her hand, your fingers brushing her sweat-damp skin. “Then come on, let’s eat before you actually pass out on me.”
But just as you turned toward the kitchen, a sharp tug yanked you back.
Her grip was firm on your wrist.
“What is it?” you asked, pivoting to face her.
Yuqi hadn’t moved, her body squirming slightly, thighs pressing together. Her hands fisted over the oversized shirt—your shirt—clutching the fabric low over her stomach like she could hide her itch you could scratch away. Her chest heaved, tits straining against the fabric, nipples poking through—already hard from the kiss earlier. Her face was red, not from embarrassment of her stomach, but from the heat that you just have built up.
She was still breathless, her chest rising and falling unevenly, her skin flushed in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.
And her eyes—dark, hungry, locked onto you like she was barely holding herself back.
Your grin deepened.
You leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of your breath against her lips, but not close enough to give her what she wanted.
“Let’s eat first,” you murmured, your voice low, teasing.
Then, smirking, you added, “After, you can beg me to fuck you again.”
She shook, a quick, horny tremble.
And just like that, you pulled away, already heading toward the kitchen.
You didn’t have to look back to know she was still standing there, fuming, frustrated, and—most of all—waiting.
a/n: thanks for reading, also thoughts on the switching pov while maintaining 2nd pov ("you" pronoun)? Or is using 3rd person pov when in idols pov better?
Wc: 9.6k
Tags: Angst?
In a captivating city humming with static, a faded musician haunted by a lover’s ghost-voice and a photographer who blurrs every truth must choose: burn in the clarity of what they almost were, or drown in the beautiful ruin of what’s left.
A/N: No scene banners for this one, just pure emotional angst. For the lad who asked for Giselle, I'll write a fluff to make up for this, trust hehe
Rain sluiced down the window of Y/N’s cramped third-floor walk-up, distorting the neon glow of the pawn shop sign across the street into a bleeding halo. Inside his dim apartment—a cramped realm of mismatched furniture, scuffed vinyl floors, and peeling posters of bands that once stirred his soul—Y/N hunched over his battered acoustic guitar. His fingers, worn from years of relentless practice and broken promises, plucked uncertainly at new strings he’d just installed. Somewhere in the background, a demo of “Moth Wing Hours” played on an aging laptop, its fragile melody looping relentlessly like a half-remembered dream.
Y/N’s apartment reeked of rosin and stale coffee, and every surface was cluttered with the detritus of a life half-lived. Amid scattered guitar picks, dog-eared notebooks of scribbled lyrics, and dusty vinyl records, the air pulsed with an undercurrent of longing—a ghost of musical glory days when his voice had burned with the reckless promise of forever. But now, that promise had faded into the static of everyday drudgery.
He had once believed his music could set the world ablaze, but time had a way of dampening even the brightest flames. Today, he was less a celebrated poet of chords and verses and more a reluctant music teacher, offering guitar lessons to disinterested teens. Their boredom was palpable, their questions laced with teenage cynicism, as if each chord he strummed was a reminder of the disconnect between his faded dreams and their insipid realities. Corporate gigs had replaced smoky dive bars; the sterile ambiance of upscale hotel lobbies and overpriced cocktail lounges left him feeling like nothing more than a ghost—a relic of a 20-something’s Spotify playlist that had long been forgotten.
As he tuned the guitar, Y/N’s eyes drifted to the rain-streaked window. Outside, the City of Seoul pulsed with neon life, a chaotic mix of transient lights and forgotten promises. The rain blurred the boundaries between past and present, and in that liminal moment, he could almost believe that the static in the background wasn’t just electronic noise but something more—a whisper from a memory he’d long tried to escape.
A sudden hiss from the ancient coffee machine in the kitchen shattered the quiet. The sound, almost spectral in its persistence, seemed to carry an echo of a laugh—low, smoky, and hauntingly familiar. For a split second, Y/N thought he heard Aeri’s laugh amid the hiss, a sound that had once lit up the darkest corners of his heart. In that instant, time fractured, and memories surged forward like a tidal wave: the clink of ice in a glass, the soft murmur of conversation on a fire escape, the reckless abandon of youth.
Distracted by the ghostly echo, his hand jerked, and the mug he’d cradled slipped from his grasp. It tumbled onto the linoleum floor, shattering into a constellation of ceramic shards that cut into his palms. He stared at the scattered pieces, each fragment a silent testament to a past filled with hope and now a present marred by regret.
Y/N’s thoughts raced. How had life reduced him to a curator of almosts? Almost-famous, almost-healed, almost-in-love. He glanced at the list on his cluttered desk—a litany of student names and dates, each entry a quiet reminder of those who had slipped away. Hannah W. flashed before his eyes, the note beside her name a sarcastic parenthesis: “nursery rhymes” from a canceled lesson. Fifteen years ago, such a cancellation might have ignited a fury worthy of a thrown phone, but now, he felt only numb resignation.
He ran a hand through his tangled hair and let his gaze fall on the cracked screen of his laptop. The demo of “Moth Wing Hours” continued unabated, its melody merging with the rhythmic patter of the rain. In that fragile moment, the past and present blurred—a bittersweet fusion of what once was and what might have been. The static in the apartment wasn’t just background noise; it was the heartbeat of his disintegrating dreams.
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Miles away, under a different kind of light, Aeri’s world unfolded in stark contrasts. Her studio was a converted loft that doubled as a darkroom, its atmosphere thick with the smell of chemicals and the red glow of safelights. Here, she reigned as both artist and chronicler—a trauma paparazzo who captured the raw, unfiltered moments of human devastation. Images of bombed-out hospitals in Kyiv, ashen faces of wildfire survivors, and the solitary photograph of a child’s shoe half-buried in flood mud hung from the walls like spectral memorials. Each image was a frozen scream, a testament to chaos and loss.
Among these fractured narratives, one photograph stood apart with startling clarity. It was a portrait of Y/N, captured in the vulnerable quiet of sleep, bathed in the gentle glow of dawn. His face, soft and unguarded, bore the delicate lines of a man haunted by memories yet still clinging to fragments of hope. Aeri’s eyes lingered on it, her pulse quickening as she recalled that moment—a rare instance when the chaos of her world had paused, revealing a truth too intimate for her usual repertoire.
Her phone buzzed insistently on a cluttered table, its screen lighting up with a reminder of an impending deadline. Aeri’s agent was on the line, his voice crackling through the speaker with the brisk efficiency of someone used to demanding perfection.
“Look, Sash, The Times wants a quote about ‘UNSEEN.’ I need you to give them the usual—‘It’s about the elusiveness of truth’—and stop overthinking the damn artist statement,” he barked, his tone a mixture of impatience and exasperation.
Aeri pressed a thumb against her scar—a faded, jagged line from the ’16 riot in Istanbul that had nearly cost her more than just her pride. “I’m not overthinking,” she snapped, her voice low and tremulous with defiance. “I’m curating, shaping fragments of reality into something real.” She swept a hand through her ink-black hair and looked around her darkroom, where each photograph seemed to pulse with unspoken stories. “Truth isn’t elusive, it’s blinding. Sometimes it’s just too bright to face directly.”
Her agent’s voice cut through her reverie. “Just stick to the script, Aeri.”
As if in response to the mounting pressure, Aeri reached for a freshly developed print of Y/N’s photo. She held it up to the dim red light, marveling at the clarity that set it apart from the other blurred images—a moment of pure, unedited vulnerability in an otherwise chaotic portfolio. In her trembling hands, that image represented all the contradictions of her life: her success as a trauma chronicler and her inability to process the intimacy that this one shot demanded.
But as she adjusted the print, a misstep sent a splash of developer solution cascading over it. The clear lines of Y/N’s face blurred into a golden smear, the vivid detail dissolving like memories fading in the rain. For a long, heart-wrenching moment, she watched the image twist into something unrecognizable—a casualty of her own inner turmoil.
“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice barely audible over the steady hum of the chemicals. With shaking fingers, she retrieved the ruined print and, as if performing a ritual of both guilt and preservation, she tucked it away into a drawer labeled “UNDEVELOPED.” In that secret compartment of her studio, Aeri locked away not just a ruined photograph, but a piece of herself she wasn’t ready to confront—a reminder of the man whose sleep had betrayed his true self.
Outside, the rain eased into a gentle mist, and the city began to stir with a hesitant vibrancy. The blurred boundaries between past and present, reality and memory, persisted like a half-remembered dream. Aeri exhaled slowly, her mind a tangled web of creative passion and self-imposed isolation. Each ruined print, every blurred image, was a step in her journey to capture the inescapable truth—no matter how painful or beautiful it might be.
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Later that evening, Y/N mounted his aging bicycle and pedaled into the night. The urban landscape, washed clean by the relentless rain, was transformed into a series of luminous reflections and fractured silhouettes. He navigated the slick, glistening streets with an air of weary determination, his mind heavy with the ghosts of unfinished songs and missed opportunities.
As he passed under a mural on 5th and Vine, a colossal billboard came into view. It was an arresting display—“UNSEEN: PHOTOGRAPHS BY AERI UCHINAGA’’ sprawled boldly across its surface. The image that dominated the ad was Aeri’s own, her face a study in defiance and vulnerability, half-consumed by shadow and light. Her eyes, sharp and inscrutable, seemed to challenge the viewer to uncover the secrets behind the facade. The billboard glowed with an almost otherworldly intensity, daring him to confront the specter of their shared past.
Y/N’s pulse quickened as he slowed to a stop, the chill of the evening mingling with the heat of buried emotions. Every detail of the billboard—the stark typography, the interplay of dark and luminous hues—spoke to the unresolved tension between him and Aeri. In that suspended moment, he felt the weight of every nearly-spoken word, every lost chance at redemption.
He fumbled with his phone, hesitating as he opened a new text message. His fingers hovered over the screen, a message forming—a tentative greeting, a whispered admission of his lingering feelings. “Heard you’re in town…” the message began, each word a tentative bridge between past hurts and uncertain hope. But as quickly as the words appeared, doubt flooded his mind. What if reaching out would shatter the fragile peace he’d fought so hard to build? The tension between longing and fear was as palpable as the damp chill of the night air.
In a moment of desperate indecision, he deleted the message. But the act of deletion felt like a small betrayal of his own yearning. His heart pounded in his ears as he stared at the dark screen, the silence more oppressive than the constant hum of the city. The electric tension of unsaid words and unfinished conversations surged within him, igniting a fury that he could no longer contain.
In a burst of anger and sorrow, Y/N’s hand clenched around the phone. With a swift, impulsive motion, he hurled it against the wall of a nearby building. The impact sent a shudder through the quiet street, and the sound of cracking glass echoed like a final exclamation mark to a conversation that would never be finished. For a few heartbeats, he stood motionless in the rain, the bitter taste of regret mingling with the dampness on his skin.
A bike messenger whizzed by, his whistled comment barely audible above the steady patter of rain. “Bad breakup?” the stranger teased, his tone light as if life’s hardships could be distilled into a single, offhand remark. Y/N managed a bitter smile in response, but the gesture was hollow—more a mask for the turmoil swirling inside than an expression of genuine amusement.
The billboard loomed above him, its vibrant, defiant image of Aeri a constant reminder of the unresolved chapters in their shared past. The rain continued to fall, each drop a muted percussion in the symphony of urban solitude. Y/N’s eyes traced the contours of her face on the billboard—the half-shadowed jawline, the fierce determination in her eyes—and he felt the sharp sting of memories both beautiful and painful.
In that fractured moment, as the rain softened and the city settled into a contemplative hush, Y/N realized that the static in his life—the noise of lost opportunities and unsaid apologies—was something he could no longer ignore. Whether it was the echo of Aeri’s laugh in the hiss of the coffee machine or the blurred remnants of a photograph hidden away in a dark drawer, the past had a way of intruding upon the present, demanding to be seen, acknowledged, and, ultimately, resolved.
As the neon lights danced on the wet pavement and the echoes of his shattered phone reverberated in his mind, Y/N stood at the crossroads of what had been and what might yet be. The city, drenched in rain and bathed in the fractured glow of memories, beckoned him forward. Somewhere between the static of his fading dreams and the promise of a new, uncertain dawn lay the truth he had long evaded—a truth as elusive as the fleeting smile of a ghost, yet as persistent as the rain that never ceased.
In that final, lingering moment before the night swallowed him whole, Y/N closed his eyes and listened to the symphony of his past—the haunting refrain of “Moth Wing Hours,” the whispered echoes of a love lost and found in the static, and the promise of redemption hidden within the fractured reflections of neon light. The journey was far from over, and with each beat of his determined heart, he knew that the search for truth, however painful and elusive, was one worth the risk.
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The night deepened, and as Y/N finally mounted his bike once more, the city around him seemed to pulse with a renewed urgency. Every raindrop, every flickering streetlamp, every shard of broken glass on the pavement was a reminder of both the beauty and the brutality of a life lived on the edge of memory and possibility. He pedaled on, the remnants of his anger slowly dissolving into a quiet resolve. Tonight, beneath the relentless rain and the indifferent glow of neon, Y/N would confront the static that had haunted him for so long—and perhaps, in that act of defiance, find a way to reclaim the fragments of himself he’d long thought lost.
The urban night was alive with possibility, each corner and shadow a silent promise of stories yet to be told. As Y/N disappeared into the rain-soaked maze of city streets, his heart whispered a tentative hope: that even amid the static of shattered dreams, there might yet be a spark of something real—something that could light the way forward, however uncertain the path.
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The memory of that humid summer night still burned like an old photograph in Y/N’s mind—a moment when uncertainty danced with reckless possibility. It was his first open mic at The Iris Room, a dive bar where the walls were as worn as the stories of its patrons. Y/N, just 24 and armed with a hopeful guitar and a pocketful of unsung songs, stood on a rickety stage beneath a single, sputtering spotlight. The audience, a ragtag collection of night owls and lost souls, leaned in with half-expected indifference.
As he strummed the opening chords of a song he’d never fully finished, his voice wavered between passion and apprehension. Every note carried the weight of his insecurities and the tender promise of new beginnings. Mid-performance, when he dared to let his guard down, a sharp voice cut through the din. “Stop singing like you’re scared of the mic, poet,” came a taunt from the back of the room.
He paused, heart pounding, and then spotted her—Aeri, 23, with eyes alight like flares in the dark. Her tone was mischievous and daring, a challenge that stung yet invigorated him. The remark hung in the smoky air, a spark that ignited something inside him. Instead of retreating into his shell, Y/N found himself grinning, a flush of adrenaline and defiance coloring his cheeks.
After the set, with applause mingled with playful jeers, Aeri made her way to him. “You’ve got guts,” she said with a wry smile, leaning against the peeling backdrop of a backstage door. “But you’re holding back—like you’re afraid to let the real you out.”
Her words, sharp yet tender, cut through his uncertainty. The moment crackled with the electricity of two lives colliding unexpectedly. They traded barbed compliments and earnest confessions in the haze of cheap beer and neon reflections. When the night was winding down and the band’s final chord lingered in the air, Aeri whispered, “Come on. Let’s ditch this dump and do something reckless.”
Y/N hesitated for only a heartbeat before grabbing his coat and following her out into the sticky summer night. They left The Iris Room together, laughter trailing behind them like a shared secret. The humid air was thick with promise as they hopped onto a beat-up car and sped away from the dim lights and stale smoke of the bar.
Their destination was as unconventional as their encounter—a towering, abandoned water tower on the outskirts of the city. Its rusted metal skin and precarious perch promised both danger and freedom. As they climbed the narrow, creaking stairs, the city below spread out in a patchwork of lights and shadows. At the top, the world seemed suspended in a moment of both vertigo and liberation.
Aeri pulled out her camera with practiced ease. “Hold that smile,” she urged, aiming the lens at Y/N. With the cityscape behind him and the wind whipping his hair, Y/N’s laughter echoed off the cold metal—a pure, unguarded sound. In that moment, as the shutter clicked, she captured not just his face but the raw, unfiltered joy of that reckless defiance.
Barely containing her delight, Aeri teased, “You’re like a chord that won’t resolve.”
Y/N’s grin widened as he retorted, “Maybe I’m a bridge to nowhere.”
Their banter mingled with the roar of the wind and the distant hum of a city that never slept. In that dizzying height, every word, every glance, vibrated with the intensity of newfound chemistry. When Aeri’s hand brushed against his, the connection was immediate—a live wire that seemed to electrify the very air between them.
As the night deepened, the duo settled on a battered metal bench near the edge of the water tower. Aeri, ever the provocateur, pulled a worn flask from her leather satchel and offered it to him. “Here,” she said, eyes twinkling, “for the bold and the brave.” In a moment of playful rebellion, Y/N snatched it from her hand and pretended to take a swig, only to toss it back with a laugh. The flask, like their burgeoning connection, was both a challenge and a token—a symbol of defiance against a world that had too often demanded conformity.
Their conversation wove through the night like an improvisational melody—stories of past heartbreaks, dreams too wild for daylight, and confessions whispered over the hum of a forgotten city. Every word felt charged with meaning, every pause pregnant with possibility. As they descended the water tower, their fingers remained intertwined—a silent promise of adventures yet to come.
By the time they reached the ground, the horizon was a blur of deep blues and emerging hints of dawn. That night, in the raw, unfiltered glow of urban rebellion, they had forged an unspoken pact: to live as though every moment were both a beginning and an end, a snapshot of perfection in a world of nearly-there moments. Their first meeting had been a collision of contrasts—a clash of vulnerability and audacity, leaving them both forever marked by the brilliance of a summer that almost was.
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In the weeks that followed, their whirlwind romance unfolded like a montage of vivid snapshots, each moment as fleeting and fragile as moth wings in a summer breeze. Aeri dragged Y/N into her nocturnal world, a realm of abandoned factories and forgotten landscapes, where the ruins whispered secrets of a once-thriving industrial past. At 3 a.m., when the city slept under a veil of darkness, she would lead him to places that pulsed with a raw, melancholic beauty.
One such night, they arrived at an abandoned factory on the outskirts of town. The building, draped in ivy and bathed in the ghostly glow of moonlight, seemed to breathe with memories of its past. Aeri’s camera was an extension of her steady hand, capturing each decaying detail with an artist’s eye. As she framed a shot of a rusted machine half-submerged in shadow, Y/N’s presence disrupted the serene stillness of her composition. He wandered into the frame, his eyes filled with wonder and a hint of mischief, transforming the image from a static relic into a living narrative.
“You always ruin the shot,” she laughed, shaking her head as she snapped a quick picture of him. But the irritation in her tone was softened by the affectionate glimmer in her eyes. In that brief exchange, Y/N felt both exasperation and adoration—a realization that she saw the beauty in his spontaneity even when it disrupted her meticulous plans.
In quieter moments, Y/N retreated to his notebook, scribbling lines of poetry and song lyrics that seemed to capture the duality of their connection. One passage in particular resonated with him as he wrote in a cramped diner booth, the words flowing almost unconsciously:
“You’re the flash that ruins the shot
I’m the darkroom, begging for light.”
The line encapsulated everything: Aeri was a burst of brilliance that threatened to overwhelm the careful, shadowed spaces within him. Her presence illuminated parts of him he’d kept hidden away, and yet, it also unraveled the fragile fabric of his carefully curated persona.
But as with all passionate affairs, the summer was not without its fractures. One rainy afternoon, a letter arrived that upended their fragile idyll. It was from Aeri’s ex—a reminder of a past that refused to be forgotten. The letter was laced with bitterness and regret, accusing her of betraying what was once real. That night, in the cramped intimacy of her apartment, Aeri’s facade cracked.
Over clattering dishes and the low hum of an old fan, she confronted Y/N. “You’re romanticizing chaos,” she accused, her voice trembling with a mixture of fury and sorrow. “Every time you spin your tales, you turn our moments into some tragic myth.”
Y/N’s eyes, usually so soft in the face of her intensity, hardened in response. “And you,” he shot back, “are nothing but an emotional tourist—riding the waves of every storm without ever letting the calm in.”
The argument reverberated through the night, punctuated by sharp words and longer silences. Their love, once a spontaneous burst of light, now flickered uncertainly in the shadow of old wounds and unresolved grief. Yet, even as anger spilled over, the undercurrent of desire remained undeniable—a magnetic pull that neither could fully resist.
After the fight, they found themselves drifting into a fragile silence. In the quiet moments that followed, Aeri’s eyes wandered back to the ruined letters and half-packed bags, and Y/N’s mind returned to the pages of his notebook stained with hastily scribbled verses. The vibrancy of their summer began to show the scars of reality—a reminder that even the most luminous moments can be marred by the ghosts of the past.
Despite the pain, there was beauty in their chaos. Each spontaneous adventure, every whispered word and stolen glance, was a piece of the mosaic that defined their summer. Their love was a collage of moments—bright, blurred, and sometimes broken—but it was entirely theirs. In the dim light of early morning, as they lay side by side on a threadbare rug in a forgotten loft, the echoes of laughter and argument blended into a haunting melody. It was a love story written in stolen snapshots and fleeting verses, as transient and unforgettable as the moth wings that fluttered in the heat of summer nights.
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Dawn crept in with an unforgiving clarity that shattered the illusions of the night. In the cold predawn light, Aeri moved silently through the narrow apartment they’d once shared, her footsteps echoing against tile and worn-out memories. Y/N lay still in a tangled heap on the bed, his eyes closed as if he could escape the painful finality of what was about to unfold.
She had always been the one to seize the moment—the wild, untamable spirit who never hesitated to break free. And now, as the first blush of morning painted the sky in pale pastels, she was leaving. The weight of their fractured summer pressed down on her with every careful step.
Y/N’s eyes fluttered open just as she paused by the door. He forced himself to remain still, feigning sleep as he watched her prepare to leave. In the quiet hush of that fateful morning, he sensed the end was near. The silence was thick, punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic and the soft clink of her keys in the lock.
Aeri lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, her silhouette framed by the weak light of dawn. Before stepping out, she pulled out her camera with a practiced precision. There was a final ritual she needed to perform—a goodbye captured in crystal-clear honesty. In a single, decisive moment, she turned the lens on Y/N, freezing him in a tableau of vulnerability. His face, relaxed and unaware of the significance of the shot, bore the deep lines of a man who had given his heart away too many times.
As the shutter clicked, Aeri’s hand trembled with the weight of what she was doing. In that silent snapshot, every unspoken word, every tear unshed, was captured in a moment of raw, unedited truth. Her eyes flickered over the image, then to the worn notebook on the bedside table where Y/N’s poetry had once spilled like secrets.
For a few agonizing moments, she fumbled with a crumpled piece of paper—a note that she had scribbled in a fit of conflicting emotions. The words were hurried and raw: “I’ll ruin us faster than art ever could.” The note, however, never found its way to him. In a sudden impulse, Aeri crumpled it into a tight fist and tore it up, scattering fragments of regret and unfulfilled promise across the cold floor.
Then, without another backward glance, she slipped out the door into the early morning haze, leaving Y/N alone with the echo of her departure. The apartment, once a sanctuary of shared dreams, now felt unbearably empty—a mausoleum of memories and lingering echoes of laughter.
Y/N remained still for a long while, the silence of the room pressing in on him like a suffocating fog. He listened to the distant sound of footsteps receding, each step marking the slow death of what had once been a blazing, uncontainable flame. In that quiet aftermath, he felt the sting of loss so acute that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of his soul.
He turned his head toward the window, where the first rays of the sun filtered through in brittle strips of light, and wondered if this was how every ending felt—both inevitable and shattering, like a masterpiece unraveled stroke by stroke. The crisp clarity of the morning betrayed no hint of the wild, transient passion that had defined their summer. Instead, it was a mirror reflecting back the broken shards of a love that had burned too fiercely to last.
For hours, Y/N lay there, caught between the desire to call out and the resignation of silence. He replayed every laugh, every heated argument, and every tender touch in his mind—each one a delicate thread in the tapestry of their brief, chaotic romance. And as the sun climbed higher, warming the cold floor beneath him, he realized that even in the midst of heartbreak, there was a strange, unyielding beauty in the truth of it all.
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Years later, the echoes of that tumultuous summer still resonated in the present, converging in a singular, charged moment. Y/N arrived at the gallery with his battered guitar strapped to his back—a silent testament to a life that had wandered far from the reckless days of youth, yet never quite escaped their shadow. The gallery buzzed with the hum of murmured conversations and the clink of glasses, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of polished wood.
Across the room, under the cool glow of strategically placed lights, Aeri stood framed by a backdrop of her photographs. Dressed in a tailored blazer that contrasted sharply with the raw, unfiltered images of pain and beauty she had captured, she exuded an air of controlled authority. For a moment, as she interviewed a particularly enthusiastic art critic, her composure faltered. Her eyes lifted and met Y/N’s across the crowded room—a silent collision of past and present that sent a jolt through both of them.
Time seemed to pause as memories cascaded between them—the fevered nights on water towers, the stolen laughter under abandoned factories, the quiet devastation of that final morning. In that suspended second, the gallery, with its pristine walls and hushed whispers, transformed into a stage for their unresolved history. Y/N’s heart pounded in his ears, the sound mingling with the ambient chatter, as he took a tentative step forward.
The critic’s questions faded into the background as Aeri’s gaze held his, raw and unspoken. For a brief, fragile moment, they were transported back to that summer of almosts—the incandescent flash of youth, the daring risk of vulnerability, and the bittersweet taste of what might have been. Aeri’s hand twitched near her side, as if reaching out to bridge the gulf of years and regrets. And Y/N, with a mixture of hope and hesitation, wondered if the unresolved chords of their past could somehow be tuned to a new melody.
In the charged silence that followed, both recognized that the distance between them was measured not in miles or years, but in the scars and memories that each carried. The gallery lights, soft and unforgiving, illuminated every wrinkle of regret, every lingering smile of nostalgia. It was a moment where the weight of their shared history pressed against the fragile present—a reminder that even as life marched forward, the past never truly let go.
As the room slowly returned to its normal rhythm, Aeri cleared her throat, regaining her professional poise, while Y/N lingered at the edge of the conversation like a ghost from a time when every note mattered. In that brief, electric encounter, the silent promise of unfinished music hung in the air—a promise that perhaps, someday, they would dare to play their old song once again.
The past and present, woven together in a delicate tapestry of memories and unspoken truths, revealed a love that was never entirely lost—only transformed into a haunting refrain that echoed through every chord and captured frame.
The evening had settled into a heavy, indigo twilight as guests filtered into the gallery. The space, a converted industrial loft with soaring ceilings and exposed brick, was filled with hushed conversations and the soft clink of wine glasses. Overhead, a single spotlight traced slow circles around Aeri’s photographs—a sprawling body of work that oscillated between raw brutality and a fragile, dreamlike beauty. It was as if every image was a confession, a whispered secret meant for those brave enough to look beyond the surface.
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Clusters of guests drifted among the images, their voices a murmur of appreciation and critique. One guest, a sharply dressed critic with a wry smile, stopped before a series of images that captured urban decay and intimate despair. He leaned in, appraising the photos with a measured gaze, then remarked loud enough for those nearby to hear, “Brave… if you like emotional voyeurism.” His tone was mocking yet laced with admiration—a dismissal that somehow validated Aeri’s work as both daring and disturbingly honest.
Y/N stood in a quieter corner of the gallery, a silent observer amid the well-heeled conversation. His gaze was fixed on a photograph titled “The Bridge to Nowhere.” It was a blurred shot of a water tower, its structure distorted by motion and shadow. The image seemed to capture something essential—a moment suspended between hope and futility, echoing the restless nights of their shared past. The photograph, much like the memory of that summer, was both haunting and achingly beautiful. Y/N’s thoughts swirled with the recollections of a time when every risk was a promise, when every misstep was a note in the symphony of youth.
The dim lighting in the gallery transformed the image into a ghostly vision. He could almost hear the echo of their laughter on that water tower, feel the electric thrill of their first encounter mingled with the uncertainty of what was to come. In that moment, every critique, every whispered appraisal in the room, faded into a background hum—insignificant compared to the relentless pull of the past.
Across the room, Aeri navigated her own storm of emotions. Dressed in a sleek, tailored blazer that belied the chaos of her inner world, she moved with a practiced grace. Yet every so often, her eyes would stray to the very photograph that haunted Y/N’s attention. It was as if, through that blurred image, both of them had found a piece of themselves they could never quite reclaim—a truth too raw to be confined to memory alone.
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As the exhibit drew on, the tension between past and present reached a fever pitch. The gallery’s polished interior gave way to a narrow, fire-escape landing behind the building, a shadowy refuge from the pretension of art critics and connoisseurs. Here, the rawness of the night reigned again. The metallic scent of rain and the chill of concrete underfoot were a stark contrast to the curated beauty of the exhibit.
Y/N found Aeri leaning against the cold railing, her gaze fixed on the city skyline—a tapestry of neon lights and distant sirens. The space between them was charged, a silent battleground for words unspoken for too long. Y/N stepped forward, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and yearning.
“You took the truth and smudged it into something safe,” he said, his tone both accusatory and desperate. His words cut through the night, raw as the wind that whipped around the fire escape.
Aeri’s eyes flashed with a storm of emotions—regret, defiance, and a deep-seated pain. “You think I didn’t try?” she shot back, her voice low and measured, though every syllable trembled with the weight of old wounds. “I’d point the lens at you, and it’d feel like… like aiming at the sun.” Her words were a confession, a brittle admission that the process of capturing truth was as dangerous and blinding as confronting it directly.
For a long, suspended moment, the only sound was the rustling of their breaths mingling with the city’s distant hum. The fire escape, lit only by the feeble glow of a streetlamp, became the stage for a collision of their two worlds—one forged in the incandescent heat of passion, the other cooled by the bitterness of memory.
Aeri’s gaze dropped to the small leather case slung over her shoulder—the one that contained all her most intimate photographs, the images she’d hidden away from prying eyes and the relentless scrutiny of the world. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she unlatched it and drew out a single print. It was an image she had never dared show anyone—a photograph captured in the darkness of a forgotten night, a moment when vulnerability and raw emotion intertwined to form something irretrievably real.
Y/N’s eyes widened as he took in the image. The photo was of him—at a moment of complete exposure. His face was lit by a soft, almost unearthly glow; his expression was one of tender anguish and hopeful defiance. It was as if every line, every shadow on his face, had been etched by a memory too painful to forget and too beautiful to ignore. The clarity of the image was in stark contrast to the blurred aesthetics of “The Bridge to Nowhere.” It was the unvarnished truth, stripped of artifice.
“I—” Y/N began, but his voice faltered. The room around him seemed to dissolve, leaving only the image and the haunting echo of a song in his mind. The static of all his past regrets, hopes, and dreams crescendoed into a familiar refrain—a melody he had long tried to bury but could never forget.
In that moment, as if summoned by the intensity of his emotions, the first notes of “Moth Wing Hours” began to swell within him. The song, raw and unpolished, rose from the depths of his memory. It was a piece Aeri had never heard, a melody woven from the threads of their shared history and the silent spaces between their words. Its strains were both a lament and a declaration, a summoning of every lost moment and every almost-forgotten promise.
The sound seemed to transform the night. The city below, the cold metal of the fire escape, even the distant hum of traffic, all receded as Y/N’s inner world surged forth. He could almost see the images of their past—flashbacks of a summer ablaze with possibility, of stolen kisses and reckless confessions. The song was more than music; it was an outpouring of every fragment of his soul that had been buried under layers of static and silence.
Aeri’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she watched him. For so long, she had hidden behind her camera, behind her carefully curated images, in an attempt to capture the truth without facing it. Now, faced with the raw, unfiltered emotion of the man before her, her defenses crumbled. The photograph in her hand trembled as if it, too, could sense the gravity of the moment.
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The confrontation on the fire escape marked a turning point—a precipice between what had been and what could be. With the hidden photo still clutched in her hand, Aeri took a tentative step forward. The quiet urgency in her eyes spoke of regrets and unspoken apologies, of a love that had once burned fiercely but had been dimmed by time and circumstance.
Y/N, still clutching the weight of the photograph in his mind, slowly retrieved his battered guitar from the case slung over his back. The instrument, scarred and weathered by years of neglect and forgotten melodies, was as much a part of him as the memories that haunted his every chord. He sat down on the cold, metal step of the fire escape, the city lights flickering like distant memories around him.
With deliberate care, he positioned the guitar against his knee and began to strum—a single, raw note that cut through the stillness of the night. The sound was unpolished, rough around the edges, yet it carried with it an undeniable truth. Each chord resonated with the cumulative weight of every missed chance, every whispered regret, every spark of defiant hope that had flickered in the darkness of their shared past.
As the melody built, so did the intensity of their unspoken exchange. Aeri watched, transfixed, as the notes of “Moth Wing Hours” filled the space between them. There was a vulnerability in his playing—a surrender to the truth that had long been hidden behind layers of static and distance. The song unfolded slowly, each refrain a delicate tapestry of sound that intertwined with the fragile remnants of their memories.
Tears welled in Aeri’s eyes as she absorbed the raw emotion in every note. Her camera, once a tool for capturing the fleeting beauty of the world, now hung limply by her side—a silent witness to the convergence of art and life. The layers of artifice and carefully contrived images fell away, leaving only the bare, unfiltered essence of who they once were—and perhaps, who they could still become.
For a long while, the two stood there on the fire escape, the night embracing them with its cool, indifferent arms. There was no physical contact—no desperate reach or trembling embrace. Instead, there was a communion of souls, a recognition that in the interplay of light and shadow, truth and art, they had found something worth preserving.
The music swelled, a crescendo of emotion that echoed through the empty streets below. Y/N’s fingers danced over the strings, coaxing the final notes from the guitar as if to seal the past and herald a new beginning. The song, filled with every fragment of their broken history and every glimmer of hope, hung in the air—a fragile promise that the static could finally fade.
In that suspended moment, the relentless noise of life—the criticisms, the ghostly echoes of mistakes, the ever-present reminder of what had been lost—began to dissolve. The collision of their worlds, so long marked by the fractures of time and regret, softened into a quiet understanding. The harsh lines of memory blurred, giving way to a tender, unspoken possibility.
Aeri’s tears fell silently as she listened, each drop a small testament to the emotions that had been held at bay for far too long. Y/N’s playing was not just a performance—it was an act of confession, a desperate attempt to reconcile the shards of a past that had been shattered by the weight of dreams deferred. The notes of “Moth Wing Hours” wove around them like a cocoon, a fragile barrier against the relentless tide of the world outside.
When the last chord finally faded, the silence that followed was profound. It was a silence filled not with emptiness, but with the unspoken promise of renewal—a moment where every raw, painful truth was met with the gentle possibility of forgiveness. Y/N’s eyes met Aeri’s, and in that exchange, both knew that the collision of their lives had not been an end, but a chance—a narrow, trembling opportunity to rebuild something honest from the ruins of what had been.
Without a word, Y/N set his guitar aside, the echo of his song lingering in the night air like a benediction. Aeri, still trembling, slowly retrieved the hidden photograph from her jacket pocket. In the weak glow of the streetlamp, she allowed herself a final, shuddering breath—a silent farewell to the ghosts of their shared past and an acceptance of the fragile, uncertain future that lay ahead.
For a long, aching moment, neither spoke. The raw, unvarnished emotion between them was palpable—a truth too heavy for words, yet light enough to bear hope. The static of all the past, the noise of regret and the clamor of what might have been, had finally begun to fade into the gentle hum of a new beginning.
As the city resumed its nocturnal rhythm, Y/N turned away, leaving the fire escape and the echoes of the past behind him. Aeri lingered a moment longer, her heart full of all the things unsaid and undone, then stepped back into the gallery. Inside, the harsh critiques and the polished facades of art awaited, but for a brief, transcendent instant on that cold fire escape, the raw pulse of truth had reawakened something long dormant.
In the days that followed, neither could entirely erase the memory of that night—the night when art and life collided, when every fractured note and blurred image spoke of a love both haunting and redemptive. Y/N continued to play his music, the unpolished notes of “Moth Wing Hours” now a permanent refrain in his heart. And Aeri, her camera now a little heavier with the weight of remembered truth, sought out new images—each one a step toward capturing not just the fleeting beauty of the world, but the unyielding truth of a love that had once dared to defy the static.
They never touched that night, never bridged the distance with a single embrace. But in the quiet resolution of their separate paths, there was a promise—a promise that though the static of their past might always echo faintly in the background, they had finally chosen to let the unvarnished truth shine through.
As dawn broke over the city one crisp morning, the remnants of the night’s collision lingered like a soft melody in the air—a reminder that even in the midst of shattered dreams and blurred memories, there existed a fragile, defiant hope. And somewhere in that hope, the truth of who they once were—and who they might yet become—was etched in every fading note and every captured image, waiting, quietly, for the day when the static would finally be silenced.
————————————————————
In that silent space between yesterday and tomorrow, the choices they made—of art, of truth, of love—resonated far beyond the confines of a single night. The exhibit had been a canvas for Aeri’s struggles, a testament to the pain and beauty that had always defined her vision. The fire escape had been their confessional, a place where raw truths were spoken in whispers against the roar of the city. And the final, tentative notes of “Moth Wing Hours” had been both an ending and a beginning—a declaration that, no matter how fractured the past, the future was theirs to create.
The collision of their lives, so vivid and violent in its intensity, had not been about reunion or reconciliation in the conventional sense. It was about confronting the ghosts of their shared history, accepting every imperfect note and blurred memory, and choosing, despite it all, to carry forward the fragile light of truth.
For Y/N, the music had always been a refuge—a sanctuary where every dissonant chord and every melancholic refrain held the promise of redemption. For Aeri, her lens was a way of seeing the world in all its painful, luminous detail. And for both of them, the choice to stand on that fire escape, to let the static fade into a quiet, unguarded melody, was a small act of defiance—a declaration that, even in a world awash with half-truths and muted regrets, there remained the possibility of something real, something unyielding.
And so, as the gallery lights dimmed and the night retreated into memory, the echoes of that fateful collision lingered—a testament to the power of truth, art, and the indomitable human spirit. In the space where music, memory, and image converged, a new chapter was written—a chapter not of perfection, but of raw, unvarnished beauty, where every note, every captured image, and every silent tear told the story of lives that dared to defy the static.
————————————————————
As the new day dawned, a subtle shift had taken place. The unresolved tension between art and truth, between the photographer and the musician, had not been erased but transformed into something more profound. The static that had once drowned out their voices now lay softened by the resonance of honesty—a reminder that, in the end, even the most fragmented hearts can create a symphony when they choose to embrace the full spectrum of light and shadow.
In that delicate balance between loss and hope, between memory and renewal, Y/N’s song continued to play—a song of truth, of love, and of the promise that the static would, at last, fade into silence.
Y/N’s world had shifted again. The past—every chord of regret, every flash of passion—had receded into a gentle hum, replaced by the steady cadence of life’s next movement. Now, he found solace in the familiar rhythms of teaching, where each imperfect note held the promise of discovery.
————————————————————
In a small community music school tucked away in a weathered building downtown, Y/N stood before a semicircle of students. The room was cluttered with worn instruments and scribbled sheet music, its windows streaked with the soft light of a fading afternoon. Today’s lesson wasn’t about scales or technical perfection; instead, Y/N introduced what he called “imperfect songs”—melodies that bore the scars of real life and the beauty of unfiltered truth.
“Music,” he began, his voice warm yet edged with a quiet intensity, “is never meant to be flawless. It’s the little mistakes, the unexpected pauses, that make it ours. Every off-key note, every stutter in your rhythm—it’s part of your story.” His gaze swept the room, catching the nervous smiles and tentative nods of his students, each clutching a guitar or keyboard as if it were their lifeline.
He led them through a simple chord progression, encouraging them to let their imperfections speak. “Play it with feeling,” he urged, “don’t try to make it perfect. Let the music breathe.” As the students hesitated at first, they slowly began to relax into the exercise. The room filled with a chorus of hesitant strums and tentative notes, and Y/N smiled, thinking of the songs that had once defined his own restless nights.
After class, a few students lingered, eager to ask questions or share fragments of their own stories. One student, a shy teen with a passion for lyrics, approached him quietly. “Mr. C,” she said, her voice soft but determined, “do you think it’s okay if my song isn’t… perfect?” Y/N knelt down to meet her eyes, his expression gentle. “Absolutely. Perfection isn’t what makes a song memorable—it’s the heart behind it. Remember, every masterpiece is born out of imperfection.”
As he walked home that evening, the city’s neon glow bathed the sidewalks in shifting hues. He thought of the moments when his own music had been raw and unguarded—a collection of fragments that somehow merged into the haunting refrain of “Moth Wing Hours.” Tonight, at a nearby dive bar, he would revisit that melody, offering it a new ending that spoke of transformation rather than despair.
————————————————————
The dive bar was a sanctuary for the misunderstood and the outcasts—a dimly lit den where the air vibrated with the sound of guitars and voices that had seen better days. Y/N took his usual spot on the small stage, his battered acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder like an old friend. The familiar murmur of the crowd wrapped around him, a living echo of his former life.
As he tuned his guitar, Y/N’s mind wandered back to the countless nights spent strumming the same chords in empty rooms, each note a testimony to his journey through loss, regret, and hope. Tonight, he would share a rendition of “Moth Wing Hours”—a song that had once captured the fleeting beauty of a love lost in the static of memory. But now, something within him had shifted. The static had faded, replaced by the warm afterglow of acceptance.
When it was his turn, Y/N stepped forward and began to play. The opening chords filled the room, gentle and unassuming at first, then building into a rich, resonant melody. As he sang, his voice carried both the weight of his past and the promise of a new beginning. When he reached the final verse, he paused, a moment of silence that hung heavy in the air.
Then, with a quiet certainty, he sang the final line:
“We were the flash, Now we’re the afterglow.”
The words, simple yet profound, resonated with everyone present. For a moment, time seemed to slow as the audience absorbed the transformation encapsulated in that fleeting phrase. In that subtle shift from a burst of intensity to a lingering warmth, Y/N had captured the essence of change—the transition from the tumultuous brilliance of youth to the steady, enduring light of experience.
————————————————————
Miles away, in a quiet corner of the city, Aeri’s world was taking shape in stark, deliberate focus. Her studio was a space of creative solitude—a converted loft where sunlight filtered in through large industrial windows, illuminating rows of meticulously arranged photographs and scattered notebooks filled with handwritten thoughts. Here, amidst the controlled chaos of her artistic process, Aeri prepared for her final act of catharsis.
For weeks, she had wrestled with the decision of which image would define her upcoming exhibit. Every photograph she had taken was imbued with fragments of truth, yet one image haunted her—the clear, unblurred shot she had secretly kept, the one that captured the essence of what almost was. In that photo, Y/N’s features were rendered in sharp detail—a moment of vulnerable authenticity that had eluded her in every other frame. Now, with trembling resolve, she selected that image for submission, titling it “What Almost Was.”
Late into the night, with the exhibit deadline looming, Aeri composed a final email to the gallery curator. Her fingers moved hesitantly over the keyboard as she attached the image, her heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and exhilaration. In the message, she wrote:
“This is the piece that captures the truth of our imperfection—the clarity in the chaos. It’s the one shot that reminds us that sometimes, the most honest moments are the ones we try hardest to hide.”
After sending the email, Aeri retreated to her studio’s back corner, where a small, worn mirror and a vintage camera awaited her next experiment. Tonight, she was determined to capture a self-portrait—a raw, unmediated look at herself that bore no filters, no distortions. With deliberate care, she set up the camera on its tripod, adjusting the focus until the world beyond the lens receded into a soft blur.
As she sat before the camera, Aeri allowed herself a rare moment of introspection. The image that would soon materialize on the screen was more than just a self-portrait—it was a declaration of self-acceptance, a recognition of every scar, every triumph, and every moment of vulnerability that had led her to this point. With a deep, steadying breath, she pressed the shutter.
The camera clicked, capturing a single, unadorned moment of truth. In the photograph, Aeri’s eyes met her own with a clarity that was both shocking and beautiful. There were no shadows obscuring her features, no layers of artifice to mask the raw emotion that lay within. It was simply her—unfiltered, real, and unmistakably present. For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to see the full spectrum of her identity—the artist, the wanderer, the woman who had loved fiercely and lost deeply.
————————————————————
In the quiet aftermath of their separate acts of transformation, a subtle shift rippled through the city. Y/N’s classroom echoed with the sound of imperfect songs and tentative chords, a living reminder that beauty often emerged from the flawed and the unfinished. His dive bar gig had been more than just a performance—it was a reawakening, a reaffirmation that even the most battered heart could produce a melody that resonated with truth.
Aeri’s exhibit, bolstered by her final, unfiltered submission, garnered unexpected acclaim. Critics who had once dismissed her work as “emotional voyeurism” began to see a new depth—a vulnerability that transcended mere spectacle. The photograph titled “What Almost Was” became a focal point of the exhibit, its clarity standing as a testament to the unvarnished reality of love and loss. In the hushed reverence of gallery halls and intimate discussions, Aeri’s work spoke of both the fragility and the resilience of the human spirit.
As the days passed, the city continued its ceaseless rhythm—a blend of neon lights and whispered confessions, of dreams pursued and quietly abandoned. Yet, amidst the din, there were pockets of silence where new beginnings took root. In one such corner, a small, dusty radio in a second-hand shop began to hum with life. The static that had once obscured the truth of the world had finally faded, replaced by the clear, steady sound of a familiar melody—a song that echoed the journey from chaos to clarity.
Y/N, in his classroom, continued to inspire his students with his unconventional lessons. He often spoke of the beauty of imperfection and the strength found in vulnerability. His final line in “Moth Wing Hours”—“We were the flash / Now we’re the afterglow”—became a mantra not only for him but for every student who dared to embrace their own flawed, radiant journey. At every gig, at every lesson, the echo of that line reminded them all that even in the aftermath of brilliance, there could be a gentle, enduring light.
In her studio, Aeri hung the self-portrait next to “What Almost Was,” creating a small gallery of truths that were as clear as they were raw. Each image, each captured moment, was a step toward reclaiming her identity—not as an observer of chaos, but as a participant in the unfolding narrative of her life. With every click of her camera, she found solace in the fact that the clarity she sought was already within her, waiting to be acknowledged and celebrated.
The resonance of their separate journeys began to intertwine in subtle ways. A new student in Y/N’s class would ask him about the inspiration behind his teaching, and he’d speak of a summer long past—a summer where imperfections were not mistakes, but the very notes that composed the music of life. Meanwhile, a quiet art critic writing a review of Aeri’s exhibit remarked on the unexpected warmth and lucidity of her latest work—a testament to an artist who had finally learned to let go of the blurred boundaries between memory and reality.
On a crisp morning, as the city stirred awake under a pale sky, both Y/N and Aeri found themselves standing at the threshold of new chapters. Y/N, after another lesson filled with tentative strums and off-key harmonies, sat quietly by the window of the music school. He watched the rain wash away the remnants of yesterday’s melancholy, the droplets creating a transient mosaic on the glass. In that reflective moment, he realized that every imperfect song his students played was a promise—a promise that the beauty of life lay not in its flawless perfection, but in its raw, unedited truth.
At the same time, Aeri revisited her now-familiar studio, pausing to admire the self-portrait that had, in its unvarnished clarity, become a mirror of her own transformation. The image was a quiet revolution—a defiant declaration that she was no longer the haunted artist chasing ghosts, but a woman embracing her truth, every detail sharp and unblurred.
Somewhere in the gentle hum of the early morning, a solitary radio in a forgotten corner of the city sprang to life. Amid the soft whispers of a new day, the familiar strains of a song filled the air—a melody that had once been lost in static, now emerging with a crystalline clarity. The transformation was complete, the collision of art and life forging a new harmony in the wake of all that had come before.
a/n: This is just set up of the story, no smut in this chapter. but this chapter is important, for the story.
The classroom buzzed with the faint whispers of students exchanging notes and furtive glances at their phones. You sat slouched at the back, staring blankly at your open notebook, the pages still pristine except for a single doodle in the corner: a coffee cup. You idly tapped your pen against the desk, your thoughts drifting far from the lecture.
“Mr. Kang Junho!”
The sharp voice of your Professor Min snapped You back to reality. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned toward you. You straightened, blinking rapidly as the professor leveled a stern gaze at you from the podium.
“Care to join us in this riveting discussion, or are you busy solving life’s great mysteries back there?” Professor Min’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.
“Uh, no, sir. I mean, yes, I’m listening,” You stammered, scratching the back of your neck. A few chuckles rippled through the classroom.
Satisfied, the professor adjusted his glasses and continued, pacing slowly across the front of the room. “As I was saying, today’s topic is about myths and their reflection of humanity. Take, for instance, the legend of the Promised Nine.”
The room quieted, the students now leaning in slightly. Professor Min always had a way of making even the dullest of topics sound compelling.
“Long ago, during a time when humanity was steeped in chaos, war, and unrelenting greed, there was a king—a wise man, yet weary of the barbarism that plagued his people. No matter how many treaties he signed or how many battles he fought, peace was fleeting. He despaired, knowing that humanity’s greatest enemy was not the sword but the emotions that drove men to wield it: pride, envy, wrath, greed, gluttony, sloth, lust, apathy, deceit…”
Junho’s attention perked up. There was something strangely familiar about the words, though you couldn’t place why.
“So the king, in his desperation, climbed the tallest mountain in the land to plead with the deity who ruled the heavens. He begged for salvation, not for himself, but for humanity. The deity listened, moved by the king’s earnestness. But salvation comes with a cost.”
Professor Min paused dramatically, glancing at his captivated audience. “A promise was made—a sacred pact between the king and the deity. Aid would be sent to humanity, not as armies or riches, but as nine beings, each representing the most volatile of human emotions. Their purpose? To keep the balance of these forces, preventing anyone from consuming the world.”
He walked over to the whiteboard and wrote the words The Promised Nine in bold letters.
“But there was a catch,” he continued. “The deity warned the king that these emotions, though tempered, could never truly be eradicated. The Promised Nine would struggle with the very forces they were meant to contain. And should even one of them fall to the temptation of their burden…”
Professor Min trailed off, his gaze sweeping the room.
“What would happen?” a student near the front blurted, unable to resist.
“Should one of the Nine succumb, their emotion would consume them entirely, turning them into a force of destruction. And that destruction could spread unchecked, tipping the scales and plunging the world into chaos once more. To prevent this, the Deity decreed that the Nine would be connected to a chosen mortal—an anchor. This anchor would serve as their confidant, grounding them when the weight of their burden became too great to bear.”
He turned back to the whiteboard, writing in large, bold letters: The Promised Nine.
“The anchor is as important as the Nine themselves,” he said. “Without them, the balance could not be maintained. The king agreed to the Diety’s terms, knowing full well the cost. And thus, the Promised Nine came into being.”
Professor Min stepped back from the board, his expression somber. “But the Diety’s warning still lingers in the echoes of time: no balance lasts forever. The story of the Promised Nine reminds us that humanity’s greatest strength—and its greatest threat—lies within ourselves.”
The shrill ring of the bell echoed through the room, breaking the spell. Students began packing their bags, the hum of chatter returning.
“Read chapters six through eight for next week!” Professor Min called over the noise.
You gathered your things slowly, the tale still turning over in your mind. As you slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way to the door, you muttered to yourself, “Promised Nine, huh? Sounds like something out of a fantasy novel.”
—
You exit the lecture hall, slipping into the stream of students flowing out into the bustling campus courtyard. The sun dips low in the sky, casting long shadows and a warm orange glow over everything. You glance at your watch—just enough time to get to your part-time job.
The café isn’t far, a cozy little spot just outside the university gates. Its charming wooden sign, Golden Brew, sways slightly in the breeze. The place is always busy, a favorite among students and faculty alike. But there’s one reason it stands out from the dozens of other coffee shops around: its owner, Gyuri.
You push through the door, greeted by the familiar hum of chatter, clinking cups, and the hiss of the espresso machine. The café smells like roasted beans and freshly baked pastries—a comforting combination that feels like a second home.
“Junho, you’re late!”
The voice is soft yet commanding, and you immediately straighten, turning to the counter. There she is—Gyuri, the radiant owner of Golden Brew. Her beauty is the kind that leaves people momentarily breathless. stood effortlessly graceful in her casual white t-shirt and mint-green cap, her gentle features framed by stray strands of hair and a gaze as warm as the morning sun
“I-I’m sorry, Ms. Gyuri,” you stammer, bowing slightly as you head toward the staff room to put your bag away.
“It’s fine, just don’t make a habit of it, okay?” she replies, her voice as warm as the golden light streaming through the café windows.
“Yes, of course!” you reply quickly, though you can’t shake the sense of unease you always feel around her.
It’s not fear, exactly. Gyuri is unfailingly warm and generous. She treats her staff like family, remembers the names of regulars, and always has a smile for everyone who walks through the door. Still, you find yourself hyper-aware of her moods, as though disappointing her might lead to something far worse than a lecture.
When you emerge from the staff room in your apron, Gyuri is already behind the counter, expertly steaming milk for a cappuccino. “Can you handle table seven’s order? They’ve been waiting a bit.”
You grab the tray, carefully balancing two lattes and a slice of cheesecake, weaving your way through the maze of tables. It’s almost automatic at this point—sidestepping bags, dodging half-turned chairs—but when you reach the corner table, you stop.
She’s there.
Seoyeon.
She’s a regular, not a student or faculty, just... always here. You’ve seen her enough times to notice the details: the dark circles under her eyes, natural and striking, framing her otherwise delicate features. She’s beautiful in a way that sneaks up on you—her sleepy, almost lazy demeanor masks something deeper.
She’s hunched over her laptop, typing slowly, as if testing each word before committing to it. The oversized navy shirt drapes over her frame, and her hair carelessly tied, some falls messily around her face. You set the tray down gently, not wanting to disturb whatever she’s working on.
“Thanks,” she mutters without looking up, her voice soft, almost as if she’s halfway to falling asleep.
You nod, even though she doesn’t see it, and glance at her screen. It’s filled with text—lines upon lines of words you can’t make sense of from this angle. Stories, maybe? Essays? You don’t know, and it’s not your place to ask.
As you turn to leave, she stretches, her movements slow and languid, like she has all the time in the world. For a moment, you wonder what keeps her coming back here, day after day, to sit in that same spot, typing away.
But you shake the thought off. You’ve got other tables to serve.
.You make your way back behind the counter, tray in hand. It’s a small relief to retreat to this spot, even if only for a few moments. Manning the cashier is easier—less weaving between tables, fewer chances to trip or spill something. The register beeps softly as you organize receipts and prepare for the next wave of customers.
The door opens, and the atmosphere in the café shifts. It’s subtle, like a faint breeze stirring through a room, but you notice it immediately. Heads turn—students and faculty alike—and conversations falter as if someone hit pause.
You glance up and freeze.
Jiheon.
Her name is spoken in hushed tones across campus, her presence both admired and untouchable. She moves with an effortless grace that feels out of place in the mundane setting of the café, her bright smile commanding attention without even trying. But it’s her eyes that hold you—the way they curve into crescent moons with a hint of something sharper, more mischievous, just beneath the surface.
To your utter disbelief, she walks directly to the counter. Your counter.
“Hi there,” she says, her voice smooth and casual, like she’s greeting an old friend. Her gaze locks onto yours, and her smile widens slightly. “You’re Junho, right?”
You blink, caught so off guard that you almost drop the pen in your hand. “Uh… yeah?” Your answer comes out as more of a question than a confirmation.
Her smile grows, as if your awkwardness amuses her. “Thought so. I’m Jiheon.” She leans in just slightly, resting one hand on the counter. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Your wariness kicks in. Jiheon—the Jiheon—is talking to you? Asking for your name? It feels like the kind of thing that only happens to other people. Your eyes flick briefly to Gyuri at the other end of the counter. She’s busy steaming milk, not even sparing a glance in Jiheon’s direction.
“Nice to meet you,” you manage, your voice steadier this time, though your thoughts are racing. “Uh, caramel macchiato?” You blurt the question out more out of instinct than anything else.
Her laugh is light, lilting, but there’s something playful in it, like she’s already decided you’re her new source of entertainment. “Hmm. Good guess,” she teases, tapping a finger against the counter. “Sure, I’ll have that. But I’m impressed you remembered. I didn’t think I was that predictable.”
You feel your face heat up, fumbling to punch her order into the register. “It’s not that, I just—uh—” You stop, realizing anything you say will just dig you deeper.
She watches you, clearly enjoying the way you stumble over your words. “Relax, Junho,” she says, her tone soft but undeniably amused. “I’m just messing with you.”
Handing her the receipt, you attempt a smile. “Coming right up.”
Instead of moving to find a seat, she lingers by the counter, her eyes drifting lazily around the café before landing back on you. “Nice place. Gyuri’s done a great job here, hasn’t she?”
Your gaze flicks to Gyuri again. Still busy. Still not looking this way. “Yeah, she has,” you reply, keeping your voice neutral.
Jiheon tilts her head, her smile still firmly in place. “You two seem close,” she muses, her tone light but probing. “Gyuri’s lucky to have someone like you helping her out.”
The way she says it makes you feel like she’s toying with you, testing your reaction. “I just do what I can,” you say cautiously.
Her eyes light up, as if you’ve said something particularly amusing. “I bet you do.” She straightens up and takes a step back. “Well, Junho, it’s been… enlightening.” Her smile takes on an almost cat-like quality. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll be around.”
As she walks away to find a seat, the tension in your shoulders eases, but her presence lingers like a shadow. You glance at Gyuri one last time, hoping for some kind of reaction, but she’s focused on the drinks in front of her, her usual calm smile in place.
And yet, for just a moment, you swear there’s something almost knowing in the way she glances at Jiheon’s retreating figure..
—
The bell above the door jingles as the last customer leaves, and you let out a long breath, leaning against the counter. The café feels different now—quiet, peaceful, but heavy with the lingering scent of coffee and pastries. It’s nighttime, and the warm glow of the overhead lights gives the empty space a cozy but slightly eerie feel.
“Good job today, Junho,” Gyuri says, flashing you one of her signature warm smiles as she locks the cash register.
“Thanks, Ms. Gyuri,” you reply, your voice softer than usual in the now-empty café.
After finishing up your closing duties—wiping down tables, stacking chairs, and sweeping the floors—you grab your jacket and step out into the cool night air. The streets are quieter now, with only a few scattered groups of students heading home. You adjust your backpack, your thoughts already drifting toward the comfort of your cramped boarding room.
As you turn a corner, someone bumps into you.
“Ah, sorry,” you mumble automatically, stepping back.
The girl doesn’t even glance up, her eyes glued to her phone. She’s wearing what looks like an e-sport jersey jacket, its bold colors contrasting with the dark street. Her brown hair catches the ambient glow of the streetlights, faintly shining as she moves past you. For a brief moment, her face is illuminated, and it’s enough to leave an impression.
She’s stunning.
Before you can fully process it, your impulse kicks in. You take a step forward, clearing your throat. “Hey, uh, I’m Junho...”
But she doesn’t respond. Her focus remains solely on the screen of her phone, and she keeps walking, oblivious to your presence.
You stand there for a second, feeling a bit foolish, then shake your head. The image of her lingers in your mind as she disappears into the night, leaving you with nothing but the quiet hum of the street.
When you finally reach your room, you fumble with your keys and push the door open. It’s as small and cramped as ever, but it’s yours. You toss your jacket onto the single chair by the desk, only to realize something’s missing. Your bag. You groan, running a hand through your hair. You must’ve left it at the café in your rush to leave. There’s no helping it—you’ll have to go back.
The walk feels longer this time, the quiet streets amplifying the sound of your footsteps. As you get closer, a strange unease settles in your chest. The air feels heavier, the streetlights casting elongated shadows that seem to move just out of sync with your steps. Your skin prickles, as if something unseen is watching.
When you reach the café, you notice something strange. Cars are parked outside. Not just any cars—luxury vehicles, sleek and expensive, the kind you’d expect to see in a high-end district, not outside a cozy student café. Their polished exteriors gleam under the soft glow of the streetlights, each one a testament to sophistication and taste.
Your gaze drifts across the lineup, catching details that feel oddly personal. A jet-black SUV, imposing and understated. A sapphire blue Porsche, sharp and vibrant, eerily luring you in. Your eyes stop briefly on a compact car that feels out of place among the giants—a Mini Cooper. Its emerald green paint shimmers, the kind of green that feels rich and alive, paired with racing stripes that speak of personality rather than pure extravagance. It’s less ostentatious but undeniably stylish, a subtle standout among its peers.
As you approach, an inexplicable resistance builds inside you, like a pressure against your chest. Your feet feel heavier, your thoughts fuzzier, and for a brief moment, you consider turning around. The café seems distant, almost unreal, like it’s shifting away even as you step closer. But you shake it off, forcing yourself forward.
You head to the backdoor, fishing out the spare key Gyuri gave you for emergencies. Pushing it open, you step into the staff area and spot your bag right where you left it. Relieved, you sling it over your shoulder and turn to leave.
That’s when you hear it.
The faint jingle of the front doorbell breaks the silence, followed by muffled voices.
You freeze. The café should be empty, but there’s a light seeping through the crack of the door leading to the main lobby. Slowly, you step closer, curiosity outweighing caution.
Peeking through the door, you see her.
She steps inside like she owns the air she breathes, her presence commanding yet effortless. Her long, jet-black hair cascades down her back, perfectly straight, with sharp bangs framing her face. Under the glow of the café lights, her striking blue eyes seem almost unnatural, as if they were cut from the sky itself.
For a moment, her gaze sweeps the café, and then it lands directly on you.
Your heart skips a beat. You’re sure you’ve been caught—your face heats up, and you’re ready to stammer some excuse about being here after hours. But her expression doesn’t shift.
Her lips curl into a smile, slow and deliberate, as if she’s been waiting for this very moment. It’s the kind of smile that feels personal, like it holds a secret meant only for you.
But then, as quickly as her eyes found yours, they slid away.
It’s deliberate—you’re certain of that. She must have seen you. And yet, she acts as if you’re invisible, as if your presence is of no consequence. She turns, her hair sweeping behind her like a silk curtain, and addresses the others in the room.
From your hidden vantage point, you take in the scene.
The café, which should have been empty, is instead alive with movement. A group of women fills the space, each one radiating an aura of distinct confidence and beauty. They aren’t just sitting or lounging; they seem to command the room, transforming it into something that feels foreign, almost sacred.
“Chaeyoung,” one of the women calls out, her tone both teasing and sharp, “you’re late.”
Your eyes dart to the source of the voice, and your breath catches—it’s her. The same woman you bumped into earlier, the one engrossed in her phone. She’s still wearing that e-sport jersey jacket, looking as effortlessly confident as she had before.
“And Nagyung? You’re not late?” Chaeyoung fires back, her tone teasing, her smile sharper now.
The casual banter between them feels like watching something private, yet you can’t look away.
Your gaze shifts to the rest of the table. The initial shock of seeing Chaeyoung fades as you take in the others, each of them equally striking in their presence. You almost stumble backward when you spot familiar faces.
Gyuri, whose warmth you’ve come to rely on, sits with an unfamiliar coolness about her. Her brow is furrowed, a faint trace of annoyance crossing her usually gentle features. It sharpens her striking appearance, making her seem like someone you’ve never truly known. There's a tension in her posture that makes you feel like you're seeing a side of her that’s been hidden until now.
Seoyeon leans lazily toward the women beside her, her relaxed posture contrasting the air of composure around the table.
The woman Seoyeon is leaning into feels strangely familiar, as if you should recognize her. She matches the others in beauty, her jet-black hair framing a delicate face. A soft smile plays at her lips, radiating warmth and charm. With luminous skin and deep, expressive eyes, she exudes an effortless elegance that captivates without even trying.
And as if that weren’t enough to leave you reeling, on the other side of the table, you recognize Lee Saerom.
The Saerom. The top celebrity, known for her flawless visuals and commanding performances.
Sitting next to her is Song Hayoung, the famous songwriter and soloist whose music dominates every chart.
They’re casually leaning into the conversation, as though their combined fame and aura aren’t enough to make this room the most exclusive place in the city.
“Is Jiwon not here yet?” Chaeyoung asks as she slips into a seat, her voice nonchalant, but her eyes scanning the room with interest.
The front doorbell jingles, and the door swings open.
“I’m here!!” a bright, piercing voice calls out.
Your head swivels toward the source, and there she is. Jiwon, bounding through the entrance like a whirlwind of energy, her grin lighting up the room before her words even have a chance.
“Jisun, did you bring food?” Jiwon’s question comes rapid-fire, her tone playful but undeniably demanding.
The woman Seoyeon was leaning into rose. She moves with calm precision, her composure stark against Jiwon’s lively presence.
"Of course, I brought food. Wouldn’t want you to starve." Jisun says, her voice soft but firm, as she produces a stack of containers seemingly out of nowhere. She places them on the table, the gesture practiced, as though she had been anticipating the request long before it was asked.
It hits you then. Roh Jisun. The world-famous chef. Known for her culinary brilliance and beauty. You've seen her multiple times before in magazines, tv, or online articles. You can hardly believe she's here, so close, exuding an effortless elegance.
“Can we finally get started? I still have to clean up after all of you,” Gyuri complained, her annoyance clear.
Now that the group had gathered, all eyes shifted to Saerom, who was waiting for their attention.
“Our youngest is losing control,” Saerom began.
“We all constantly are,” Nagyung shrugged off the concern.
“This isn't the same, you know that,” Saerom replied firmly.
“Don’t try to ignore these meetings, Nagyung. I’m losing millions just being here,” Jiwon said, flaunting her wealth.
“Must be nice having all those millions,” Hayoung remarked. While her gaze focuses on the only fork on the table, in the hands of Chaeyoung.
“You’re a millionaire too. Why are you eyeing my money?” Jiwon shot back defensively.
“Ahem!… Losing control?” Gyuri steered the conversation back on track.
Saerom, now commanding their full attention, spoke with purpose.
“We need to consider finally finding an anchor.”
“Then we’ll get an anchor. Meeting is done,” Soyeon said with a yawn, stretching.
Charyoung, still twirling the fork between her fingers, smirked. “Do we have to? I’ve been liking her attitude recently.”
“It’s time,” Saerom replied, her tone serious. “We can’t risk it. If deceit consumes her…”
“It will consume all of us,” Gyuri finished, her voice dark.
You stay frozen, trying to make sense of the conversation. Consume? Anchor? Deceit? The weight of their words sinks in, and though you know you should leave, something keeps you rooted to the spot. The truth behind their cryptic conversation is just out of reach.
Then, without warning, a soft voice whispered near your ear.
“Curiosity can be dangerous, you know.”
You nearly jump out of your skin, spinning around to find Jiheon standing inches away, her signature eye-smile curved upward in amusement. You’re certain she wasn’t there a second ago. How could she have gotten so close without making a sound?
“Wha—how—?” you stammer, instinctively taking a step back, only to hear the door creak open behind you.
Seoyeon, now fully awake, leans forward slightly, her drowsy facade giving way to genuine surprise. “How did he get here?” she asks, her voice carrying a rare edge of curiosity. Her eyes scan you, but it’s not just scrutiny—it’s disbelief, almost as if you’re some kind of anomaly.
“Who’s this?” Nagyung asks, clearly not remembering you.
“Junho,” Gyuri says softly, her voice now laced with concern and confusion. “How are you here?” Her warm demeanor has returned that almost makes you feel safe. Almost.
Your mind scrambles for an explanation, but Jiheon, ever calm, steps forward, her gaze fixed on you as if she’s reading your very thoughts.
“He overheard,” Jiheon says simply, her tone neither accusatory nor dismissive.
“Clearly” Jiwon crosses her arms, her lively energy dampened by suspicion. “Why did you let him through?”
Jiheon doesn’t answer. Instead, she steps forward, closing the already narrow distance between the two of you. Her eyes glint with an eerie amusement, her head tilting slightly as she examines you like a puzzle she’s just begun to piece together.
“Regardless of how,” Saerom says, her voice cutting through the murmurs and drawing every gaze. She rises slowly, her commanding presence quieting the room once more. “What matters is why. What did he hear?”
“I didn’t mean to listen!” you blurt out, your voice shaky as you raise your hands in defense. “I—I just came back for my bag, and then I heard voices, and—”
“And stopped to eavesdrop,” Chaeyoung interrupts, her voice playful but her eyes uncomfortably sharp.
“No! I mean—yes, but not like that!” you stammer, feeling the weight of their collective stares crushing you. “It’s not what you think! I swear I won’t tell anyone!”
Gyuri sighs, stepping closer. “Junho, you don’t understand. This... what you’ve heard... it’s not something you can just walk away from.”
“I don’t know how you got through the mist ” Jisun adds, her tone firm but not unkind. “But this isn’t something just anyone can know.”
“Maybe,” Chaeyoung says, her lips curving into a sly smile, “he’s not ‘just anyone.’”
“Enough.” Saerom’s single word silences the room, her authority undeniable. Her eyes pierce through you, weighing your very existence. “What’s done is done. The question now is what we do with him.”
Your heart pounds in your chest. “Wait!” you cry, your voice desperate. “I swear I won’t say anything! I don’t even understand what I heard! Just let me go, and I’ll forget everything!”
“That’s not how this works,” Hayoung says from across the room, her voice carrying an edge as she’s now holding the fork she was eyeing earlier.
Jiheon smirks, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she takes another step closer. “Oh, Junho,” she purrs, her voice dripping with playful malice. “It’s not your fault, really. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She tilts her head, her smile widening. “But... well, it’s a little late for regrets, don’t you think?”
Her hand lifts, faint cyan light dancing at her fingertips, and you can’t tear your eyes away. The glow reflects in her eyes, making her look ethereal and otherworldly.
“Jiheon, stop!” Saerom’s voice cuts through, but Jiheon doesn’t even flinch.
“Relax,” Jiheon says lightly, her tone almost soothing as she looks at you. “I’m just helping him... rest a little.”
“Jiheon!” Saerom’s command comes sharper this time, but it’s already too late.
Jiheon’s fingers flick, the cyan light tracing an elegant pattern in the air. “Just a little nap,” she whispers, her voice lilting and playful.
The moment the light touches you, an overwhelming drowsiness washes over your body. Your knees buckle, the edges of your vision darken, and Jiheon’s playful smile is the last thing you see as the world fades to black.
a/n: Before you move one the next chapter, can you guess who's who, with their pairing emotion?
(Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, Sloth, Deceit, and Apathy)
kianamaiart
prguitarman
dailybridgerton
2087
turnnoffyourmind
