You watch your girlfriend on the jumbotron as she walks onto the field. Everyone cheers as she throws the ceremonial first pitch for today's game. You see her on the jumbotron, glowing as usual, falling in love all over again, recollecting the past memories of early on in your relationship.
You patiently wait for her in the suite they reserved for her, allowing her to bring her staff and her entourage along for this schedule, fitting for the special guest for the game. The actual game's first pitch has been thrown while your girlfriend still hasn't arrived to sit beside you. You don't worry this easily normally, but you really wanted to watch the whole game with her by your side. It is, in fact, one of your favourite dates to take her out on due to your undying love for baseball.
Away from your undying attention to the baseball game going on, someone slowly sneaks into the seat beside you. The game has action going on while the person sneaks beside you, as one of the players hits an inviting breaking ball towards the left-centre gap and is currently legging his way towards second base. You reach for your drink that's in the cup holder to your right, only to feel a familiar hand in the vicinity.
"Oh, hey Chaer." You turn your attention to your girlfriend, who's now sitting beside you.
“How did I do babe?” She asks you expectantly.
“You did well baby. But, the next time you throw the first pitch, I’ll make sure to teach you.”
“At least it made it to home plate.”
“Yeah and I’m proud you at least threw it past home plate, but I’m going to make sure you throw a strike.” You wrap your arm around her and she leans on your shoulder.
”Next time, I’ll let you know the next time I’m scheduled to throw the first pitch.”
“Okay, at least give me a day so I can teach you like I teach the young ones I teach at the camps.”
“I’ll try my best to impress you next time!” She says proudly and leans more of her weight on your shoulder.
The game continues on with Chaeryeong on your shoulder. Both teams are in a low scoring affair, as the pitching matchup lives up the expectations so far. You start hearing the familiar chime of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” which signals the 7th inning stretch.
“Hey baby, I’m going to grab a bite to eat, are you hungry?”
“Yeah babe, now that you mentioned it, I wouldn’t mind something to eat.” You take Chaeryeong’s hand and lead her inside the suite away from the suite seats that were in front of the suite to watch the game.
You lead her to the food table and look at the food they have catered for the suite. The typical ballpark food was present; popcorn, hot dogs, chicken tenders, and sliders. Also included were bottomless soft drinks and alcohol, fitting for your girlfriend who loves to drink (even though she always is shy at first when offered, but once she starts, it’s a whole different ballgame).
You grab a few chicken tenders, and a couple of sliders with a barbecue sauce dip cup and a packet of hot sauce. You patiently wait for Chaeryeong as she ponders her options, she grabs some salad, a couple of chicken tenders and a slider and quickly joins you by your side. You both seat at these leather seats behind the suite seats and start munching away at your food.
“How’s the food?” You ask Chaeryeong as you dip your second tender into your barbecue sauce.
“It’s good, but you know how I feel about salad.”
“Yeah, it sucks you guys are still in promotions. But hey, look at the bright side, once promotions are over, I’ll bring you out for food whenever you want baby.” She smiles brightly at you.
“Promise?”
“I most certainly promise baby. Whatever you want, I’ll take you there. No matter how many times you want to go to eat.” You smile back at her.
You both finish up your food and as you’re taking both of your disposable plates to the garbage she links her arm with one of yours.
“Babe?”
“Yeah baby?”
“Can you accompany to the washroom? I need to use it.”
“Sure, I’ll be your security.” You smile down at her.
You take her out of the suite and into another hallway, secluded from the sections of suites in the section. Chaeryeong opens the door and just as you’re about to turn around and unlink your arm from hers to give her privacy, she yanks you right in.
You’re caught off guard until you feel a pair of hands pulling down your joggers, trying to tug down your boxer briefs down as well. It isn’t until she gives the first stroke that your brain decides to work and say something.
“Woah, Chaer what are you doing?”
“I couldn’t wait till we got to our apartment, I’ve been horny since we got here at the stadium.” She says as you feel blood starting to rush down. She gives you a handful of strokes before she kneels down, head level with your quickly hardening cock. She sticks her tongue out, teasing your tip, first by circling it around your tip. Then comes her favourite way of teasing you, she flicks her tongue right at your slit. She does it a few times and on the last time she does it, your legs shiver.
With no hesitation, she engulfs your shaft and only goes past your tip to test the waters. You fear her tongue stimulating the underside of your shaft, meanwhile your lips are sucking you dry and she’s only getting started. You just lean your back against the door, only for you to glance at the lock still being unlocked and by some miracle you still have just enough strength to lock it.
Simultaneously, Chaeryeong ups the ante and she shoves your tip down her throat and you let out a breathy moan, stopping yourself from letting out a loud one. You feel your tip and an inch of your shaft being suffocated by her tight throat. Chaeryeong however doesn’t gag, that’s thanks to the sheer amount of head she’s given you the time you’ve been together. She pushes herself even farther, her nose now touching your mons pubis. She stays there for a few moments, then starts bobbing her head, going from tip to base constantly and quickly.
“Fuck Chaer, baby I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to cum in your mouth.”
As if she cares, she keeps on bobbing her head, increasing her tempo and all you can hear is the sound of her saliva squelching against your shaft. Everything you’re hearing and feeling pushes you over the edge, and once Chaeryeong feels your tip pulse and she pulls her mouth away from your shaft.
You reach out for her, finding any part of her body so she can get back to sucking you off to completion but you don’t feel her within your arms reach. As you slowly open your eyes, you see your girlfriend hurriedly trying to take her jeans off. In due time she pulls both her jeans and her panties off and she pounces on you so quickly you almost didn’t catch her in time.
She wraps her arms around your neck, and also wraps her legs around your hips. She reaches down and grabs a hold of your shaft. She hesitates for a second, seeing if you would stop her, but after she doesn’t hear or feel a refusal from you, she lines herself up with your shaft. All you feel is her tight walls, as they envelop your shaft. It takes a good amount of time for your shaft to push through the tightness and her walls loosen up to fit your size. You feel Chaeryeong ride your cock up and down, almost as if she’s in a haze, drunk with her only satisfaction being your cock.
You’re surprised as Chaeryeong has taken over everything from the start, not that you’re complaining, but you try and keep a mental note that when you’re girlfriend is really horny, she would do anything to get herself off. You reach down to find her clit while she rides you, swirling your thumb across it and her inner walls start to flutter. You know the look she gives when she’s at her peak and not only that, but she can be quite loud when it does happen.
As a precaution, you capture her lips into a passionate kiss while concurrently you begin to thrust into her trying to find the right angle. When you feel her moan loudly against your mouth, you take that as a cue to keep thrusting into her at that right angle. Her walls quiver quickly, her impending orgasm about to be reached as you reach back down to her clit and rub her nub as her body just trembles on you and you feel her fluids rush down your shaft.
She slowly decreases her riding tempo which you take as a cue to thrust into her at an increasing rhythm. You don’t let up, especially after seeing Chaeryeong her her orgasm and whether she likes it or not (she definitely does with the way her body is reacting) you’re going to reach your peak after being blueballed from her blowjob. You drive into her the fastest you’re able to, so fast that the sounds of skin slapping skin are all that can be heard. It doesn’t take too long for you however, as after a handful of thrusts your tip throbs and you release your lent up load inside of her accepting womb.
You slow down your pace until you come to a stop, all you can feel is a burning sensation down your lower half and also all the fluids flowing down your legs, remnants of the moment you both have experienced. You feel Chaeryeong slip off your cock, and you hear your load splatter on the tiled floor beneath the two of you. You both are a heavy breathing mess and it isn't until one of you breaks the silence.
20,7k words | smut, last interlude, fivesome, sleepover, really horny spin the bottle game
Nervous was not exactly the word you would have used for that moment, since some time ago you had developed a certain degree of cold-bloodedness regarding those kinds of events, especially when it came to the Aespa girls' apartment, a place you had already frequented dozens of times.
What ran through your body was adrenaline in its purest state, a state of euphoria that, as you walked down the hallway, had you playing with your own fingers and biting your lower lip. If someone had seen you like this they would have thought you were under the influence of an extra strong energy drink, but the truth is that you were simply too enthusiastic.
You forced yourself to breathe deeply and lower your heart rate when you stood in front of the door. You immediately heard feminine laughter from the other side, then a jovial and noisy conversation that you couldn't decipher because of how the voices overlapped each other.
You raised your hand confidently and knocked on the door four times, your way of letting the girls know it was you. The conversation died down on the other side.
One of the four, whoever it was, hurried toward the door, her footsteps echoing.
To your surprise, it was neither Minjeong nor Aeri who opened the door.
Huh Yunjin peeked under the doorway, one hand on the frame and the other on the knob. The first thing you noticed was that there wasn't even a hint of makeup on her face, and yet, you found yourself impressed by how pretty she was naturally, one of the rare cases in which the idol looked better in person than in photographs. She was wearing entirely gray pajamas, with baggy pants and a hoodie, her red hair down.
"Oh hi!" she greeted, with a friendly smile and a slight bow of her head.
You and Yunjin introduced each other. She opened the door a little more. Behind her, on one of the wide white linen sofas, you spotted three more beauties, all in comfortable pajamas and, like Yunjin, without makeup, talking and giggling among themselves.
"Wait, are you American too?" Yunjin asked in fluent, charming English, right after you had introduced yourself.
"Yeah! I moved here four years ago now, I think. What gave me away?"
"Your pronunciation, of course," she replied. "If you didn't grow up here it's always going to sound a little weird. Eunchae teases me about it all the time."
You clicked your tongue.
"And here I thought I had improved."
"Oh, don't get me wrong," Yunjin laughed. "It's almost impeccable. Better than mine a few years ago to be honest. But anyway, come in! come in!"
Yunjin stepped aside and let you pass. Not even four steps in, Minjeong stood up from the couch and rushed with quick little steps towards you. Aeri stood up too, but stayed on the sidelines as Minjeong crawled into your arms, her head buried in your chest.
"Hello, Minjeong-ah," you said, pulling her into a warm hug. You looked at Aeri, who winked at you, and then at Somi, who did not hide the way she checked you out from head to toe.
"All good?" Minjeong asked in her usual adorable tone, looking up at you from very close up. "Did you have dinner yet?"
You nodded.
"Two chicken sandwiches. Lovely meal."
After giving Minjeong a kiss on the head and letting her go, you went to Aeri so she could give you a kiss on the cheek and rub your back as a greeting. Yunjin had returned to the couch with Somi, who put one leg up on the seat and crossed her arms over the backrest, looking at the girls with a playful face.
"Are you going to introduce him to me, or what?" she asked.
The girls quickly introduced you to Somi, who you shook hands with.
"Hmm, you're American right?" Somi asked, also in English; since she was of Canadian origin, it was of course different from Yunjin's, even yours. "Your pronunciation…"
"It gives me away, yeah," you cut her off with a chuckle. "Someone mention it."
"From where?"
“Seattle,” you responded. Minjeong hugging you from behind, her arms around your waist and her chin on your shoulder. "Straight from Pioneer Square."
"Is the weather as depressing as they make it?"
You shrugged.
"A little," you acknowledged. "It never bothered me too much, tho, You'd be surprised at the emotional intelligence you develop being in a city where it rains constantly."
"Yeah well, you haven't put it into practice these last few months," Aeri mentioned as a rather intentional tease, crossing her arms, sitting on the back of the sofa. She also spoke in English, which made Minjeong frown.
"I already said I'm sorry, woman."
"You never got on your knees before me and begged me, so the apology was never complete on my side."
"Hey, hey!" Minjeong chimed in. "You're not going to be speaking English all night, are you?" she asked in her own language.
"You understand English perfectly, Minjeong," you muttered under your breath.
"What did he do?" Yunjin asked, looking at Aeri, eager for the juicy gossip.
"We don't want to talk about it," you said quickly, just as Aeri seemed thrilled to spill the beans.
Aeri glared at you.
"I'll tell her later anyway," she said, stepping away from the group toward the dining room.
"Oh, and me too, please," Somi added.
"Great, but I don't want to be here when that happens," you sighed. "What did I miss? You guys didn't start drinking without me, did you?"
"We were waiting for you," Minjeong said. "The idea is that we're all equally drunk by the end of the night."
"So you're already assuming we're going to get drunk?" you asked.
"What kind of sleepover would it be otherwise?"
Music at a moderate volume began to play from the dining room. Aeri had turned on her Bluetooth speaker, which was bigger than necessary for the occasion. Björk's "Army of Me" filled the silence of the immense apartment.
"Just a normal one, I'd say."
"Do you think we're girls who settle for normal?" Yunjin asked, grabbing some chips from a bowl on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
"Not at all. But it doesn't matter, these devils have got me used to it."
Minjeong playfully punched you in the thigh with her closed fist, making you hiss.
"Who are you calling a devil?" She asked, her voice threatening.
"Especially you," you muttered under your breath.
"Well, darling," Aeri walked around the sofa and sat back down to Somi's right. "Why don't you do the honors of pouring the first drinks so we can officially kick off the evening?"
"I could, if a certain tick would let go of me," you said, turning your head to look at Minjeong over your shoulder.
Minjeong rolled her eyes, but finally relented and let go of you. Not before planting a quick, discreet kiss on the back of your neck. She rejoined the girls on the sofa.
"Is everything where it always is?" you asked, heading towards the kitchen.
Aeri and Minjeong nodded simultaneously. You reached the other side of the kitchen island and bent down to open one of the cabinets under the sink, from which you took out five shot glasses, placing them on the island counter behind you. Then you went to the refrigerator. The three bottles of ice-cold Soju were in the freezer. You grabbed one. Then you gathered everything and went back to the girls, who were chatting amongst themselves again.
You placed the five small glasses on the glass table, opened the bottle of Soju, and poured the shots.
"Here you go, ladies," you said, handing a glass to each of them and keeping one for yourself.
"Thank you very much, handsome bartender," Somi said, eliciting a round of giggles from the girls.
"At your service, attractive young lady," you replied, sitting down on the single sofa you had rearranged so that it faced them. The comment made them laugh again.
"Hey, where did you find such a cute one?" Yunjin asked the girls, before downing her shot in one gulp. You and the others did the same. "Seriously, he was your masseur for the entire tour?"
"Against my will, I must add," you said, grabbing some fries.
Aeri clicked her tongue.
"Oh my god, be for real!" Aeri exclaimed. "That was the best experience of your life."
You grimaced, shrugged, and threw up your hands. Aeri and Minjeong groaned in offense.
"Why do you hate us so much!" Minjeong complained, throwing a rolled-up piece of paper at you, presumably from a gum pack. "I dare you to name a single month and a half of your life better than that."
"Well, the time I got my first girlfriend wasn't so bad…"
"I'm going to kill you!"
Minjeong made a move to stand up, her fist raised, ready to plant it squarely on your arm. You panicked and raised a knee to defend yourself, giggling, but in the end, she sat back down.
"Anyway, I'll just ignore that ungrateful fool," Aeri said, glancing at Yunjin. "Answering the first question: I have no idea. Jihye really struck gold with him."
"Oh, come on, you're going to make me blush," you said.
"I'm not talking to you," Aeri said without looking at you.
"So, what was it like, by the way?" Somi asked, looking at you, her legs drawn up on the sofa against her own body. "I think Ryujin mentioned you to me a few times."
"The girls and I had a little… let's call it a pool party," you said, recalling the embarrassing moment. "Late in the afternoon, Jihye showed up unexpectedly and found us in a rather funny situation. I almost died of embarrassment. But that's when it became official that I would be traveling with the girls."
Somi laughed. Beside her, Yunjin poured another round of soju shots. You placed your small glass on the table.
"Oh yeah, she definitely told me about you," she said. "And I already know what funny situation you're talking about."
You groaned.
"Oh my god, she really told you about that?"
"If you're the same guy from most of her stories, yeah. About that and a lot more."
"Anything interesting to share?" Yunjin asked, just as she finished pouring your drink.
You picked up your small glass, took a gulp, and looked at Somi expectantly. You didn't really have a problem sharing too much about your experiences with the ITZY girls, but you preferred some discretion.
"Hmm," Somi looked at you and playfully bit her lower lip. "Why don't you tell them a little bit about the pool party yourself?"
"Which one?"
"You know which one. The other wasn't all that interesting, other than Noze accidentally seeing your privates."
"It was a party with the ITZY girls, Aespa, and Nayeon," you replied curtly. "Pretty fun, honestly."
Yunjin looked at Somi and then at you.
"And…?" Yunjin raised her eyebrows, waiting for more.
"He fucked them all," Somi added casually, and proceeded to down her shot of Soju.
Yunjin's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. She glanced at Aeri and Minjeong, who didn't seem bothered by it. In fact, Minjeong looked proud as she sipped her shot. You, on the other hand, felt a slight wave of embarrassment run through you. Apparently, you weren't quite ready to share this with someone you weren't close to.
"Separately, right?" Yunjin asked you.
You sighed and settled back in your seat. It was going to be a fucking long night.
"I wish."
"You handled nine girls at once?! Are you a sheep dog or what?!"
That shouldn't have amused you, but the way she said it was downright hilarious. It drew a wry laugh from you.
Instead of responding, you simply shrugged.
"That's what he gets paid for," Somi said for you. "He must be quite a gem."
"He is, I can tell you that," Aeri said. "That day he fucked my ass so hard that…"
You glared at her.
Aeri suppressed a smile against her pursed lips, swallowing the rest of the sentence. The girls laughed.
"He did pretty well that day," she opted to say.
"Thanks," you said. "Isn't there a slightly less awkward topic?"
Fortunately, the conversation shifted to more trivial topics from that point on, no longer so focused on you. Music and art in general were the main topics of conversation, but always with a relaxed, friendly approach, and you were laughing constantly. You learned a lot from each of them because of that. You also got along better with Somi than you expected, since, based on what you'd heard about her, you hadn't gotten the impression that you'd be able to get along with her at all.
On the other hand, the soju flowed almost as easily as the conversation itself. The first bottle didn't even last two hours, and by midnight you were already halfway through the second. You didn't think too much about the consequences, not when you had the privilege of witnessing these girls having a good time in a context where there were no cameras or spotlights, like normal girls in their twenties. Besides, they had let you be part of the evening, so what better than to go with the flow?
That's what you did, certainly. But because you were so relaxed and open to talking about anything, the girls noticed you let your guard down and set their sights on you again.
"Oh, all this reminds me of something," Somi said, looking at you. She, like everyone else, was already feeling quite tipsy. The seating arrangement was almost the same, except Minjeong was sitting on Aeri's lap, who had her arms comfortably around her waist. "Ryujinie mentioned something about a client list you have… you really have one?"
You should have expected the conversation to turn in that direction, since you—or rather, they—had been talking for quite a while about the industry and recent comebacks of other groups, as well as sharing gossip about people within their own companies, whether idols, trainees, or staff. Some juicy tidbits that you weren't aware of came out of it.
You let out a heavy sigh as they all turned their attention to you, eager for your answer, like four lionesses hunting a poor, solitary gazelle. Only instead of wanting to satisfy their hunger, they wanted to satisfy their thirst for gossip, gossip, and more gossip.
"For God's sake, what else did Ryujin tell you?" you asked, exasperated.
Somi giggled.
"You don't want to know."
You shook your head, poured yourself a shot of soju, and downed it in one gulp.
"I don't like to call it a 'list,' since many of them are good friends," you said, tapping the glass down on the table. "But yeah. The thing is, lately, my role with these girls has become a bit… abstract. It was definitely easier when I was just a masseur."
"How many of them do you just have one-night stands with?" Yunjin inquired, her head resting against the back of the sofa. "Can I ask?"
"As long as you take it to your graves, yes."
Yunjin threw up her hands.
"We're walking coffins, honey."
"Hmm, well…" you scratched your temple, mentally running through the names. "Seulgi's one."
Yunjin frowned and gasped. Again, their reaction made you laugh. Somi seemed rather fascinated, her eyes sparkling at the revelation of a juicy piece of gossip. Did she remember that you had just said they should take it to the grave? She looked like a newspaper editor who had just received their headline story.
As for Minjeong and Aeri, well, they didn't seem surprised in the slightest. They both knew perfectly well that your network of services was rather extensive. Besides, you were sure they already knew about your encounters with Seulgi; you must have shared something during a drunken night.
"Kang Seulgi from Red Velvet?!" Yunjin asked.
"You know another Seulgi, perhaps?"
"Who else, who else?" Somi asked.
"Chaeyeonie."
"Chaery's sister? I already knew that!" she complained.
"I'm not going to name everyone just because you feel like it, woman."
"One more!" Yunjin pleaded. "Who's the most famous?"
"Does Rina count?"
"We already knew that!" Yunjin and Somi protested in unison.
"Why do you know so much?!" you squealed.
"Come on, think!" Yunjin urged, putting her feet on the ground and leaning forward, elbows on her thighs and fingers interlaced under her chin.
"Damn…" you sighed. "Taeyeon from Girls' Generation. Just once."
This time even Minjeong almost fell off Aeri's lap. They were all speechless.
"No way!" Somi said.
"And it was last month," you added.
"It was last month and you didn't tell any of us?!" Minjeong demanded to know.
Aeri, wanting to get up and hit you, pushed Minjeong aside, off her lap, and threw a ping-pong ball you'd been using on the dining room table straight at your head. You hissed.
"I don't have to go around revealing who I fuck and who I don't!" you protested, rubbing where the ball had hit you.
"We should have privileges!" Aeri exclaimed.
Yunjin, who still looked perplexed, tilted her head and looked at you.
"How's she in bed?" she asked. "Is she good?"
"I'll refrain from commenting."
"That means she's really good, then," Somi pointed out. "Are her tits as pretty as they look through her clothes?"
"Not answering that either."
"Can you at least say if she's a top or a bottom?"
"Pretty bottom."
"I knew it!" Yunjin celebrated, then burst into laughter along with Somi.
You sighed and looked at Minjeong, seeking help. Of course, Minjeong just looked at you and gave you a thumbs-up, as if everything was perfectly fine. Aeri, on the other hand, only gave you a confused look, unsure of what you wanted from her and why you were looking at her like that.
"Oh, you also said that the relationship with your clients is now somewhat more abstract," Somi recalled, watching Aeri pour another round of shots. "Why?"
"Because since my services are now private, the way they use them varies a lot," you replied, accepting the small glass Aeri offered you. You had to be more careful with what you said about that side of your work, so you paused to think. "There was this girl, for example, I had to rescue in the wee hours of the morning from the house of some weirdo she was starting to date."
"It happened to me once," Aeri said, the shot glass near her lips. "That's fucked up."
"And how did you get her out of there?" Yunjin asked after taking a sip of her shot.
"I was given certain resources which I can't share, sorry," you shook your head.
Yunjin narrowed her eyes.
"You broke down the door with a portable battering ram."
You made a face of confusion. Minjeong and Somi laughed.
"What do you think I am, special forces?"
"The way you describe it makes me think so!"
"Yeah, but that's not the case," you took your shot. This time you did feel a little dizzy as the liquor went down your throat. "It's more frivolous than you think."
"Then why can't you say it?" Somi asked.
"Because I can't. And that's the end of it."
Somi and Yunjin rolled their eyes, but didn't press the issue.
A while later, the second bottle of soju was gone, and you had to bring out the last remaining one. However, you had a slight suspicion that it wouldn't be necessary, as the girls' cheeks were already flushed from the alcohol in their systems. Even you slightly stumbled back to your seat when you returned from the bathroom. It wasn't a severe case of drunkenness, but it was enough to make you feel like you could beat the crap out of a bear.
"Wait a minute," Aeri looked at you and then at Minjeong. "You told him this was a sleepover, right?"
"Of course I did!" Minjeong retorted, now all giggly.
"Then why is he dressed like we're going to a nightclub?" Aeri asked, tilting her head.
You glanced at your own outfit; there was nothing wrong with it, but compared to the girls, all four of whom were in comfortable, loose pajamas, you did look like a cactus in a field of flowers.
"Yeeeeeeah, doesn't sound like a smart choice to me," added Somi, her head resting on one of the sofa's armrests, her legs draped over Aeri's lap. "He'd be much more comfortable if he were dressed like us."
Yunjin laughed from her corner of the sofa.
"He does look pretty cute, buuuut," Yunjin jumped to her feet, strode over to you, and before you could even react, straddled your lap and unbuttoned the first few buttons of your denim shirt. "He could look much better."
"Oh wow…" you said, doing nothing to stop what was happening, your hands instinctively on her thighs, which were on either side of your hips.
Yunjin giggled repeatedly as she unbuttoned your shirt all the way down, a charming smile on her face. Every few seconds, she glanced up at you with those big, bright eyes. It was probably because you were so dizzy, but her aura was mesmerizing.
Instinctively, you put a hand behind her head and leaned in to kiss her. However, Yunjin noticed and quickly placed a hand on your chest, pressing your back against the headboard again.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Yunjin looked into your eyes, her hand still on your bare chest. "Not so fast, cowboy. Who said you were in charge?"
You blushed.
"Uh… well, I thought…"
"There's plenty of time for that later, darling," Yunjin said, pulling your shirt down over your shoulders. "Right now we're just making you comfortable, remember?" she giggled.
"Yeah, you're right… I guess," you nodded, still a little dazed.
Yunjin slid your shirt off your arms and let it fall to the floor beside the sofa you were sitting on. The cool air from the air conditioner sent a shiver down your spine.
"Alright, Somi," Yunjin turned to her, who was watching and giggling with Aeri and Minjeong. "I've already taken care of his shirt. Come and take care of his pants."
Somi stopped laughing for a moment and looked at you, then at Minjeong and Aeri. A mischievous little smile spread across her face as she stood up and walked over to you. Yunjin climbed off your lap and stood behind you, arms crossed over the back of the sofa, some of her hair falling over one of your shoulders.
You were still a little dazed from your recent interaction with Yunjin, so you might not have fully appreciated the fact that Jeon Somi had knelt down between your parted knees at that precise moment, her large, bright eyes fixed on yours.
"Where did you buy these jeans, oppa?" Somi asked, tilting her head to the side, her hands on your knees. Yunjin had subtly placed her hands on your shoulders, occasionally sliding them up to your collarbone.
"Uh… at GAP, in a shopping mall near Myeong-dong," you replied.
"Oh, interesting. I'll make sure to stop by there later," Somi said, moving her hands up your thighs to the button of your jeans, which she undid. "They're very cute, but they'd look so much better if I only…"
Somi unzipped your jeans, and with her hands on the hem, she quickly pulled them down off your legs until you were only in your boxers and socks. Her eyes sparkled, a wide grin spreading across her face as she stared at your bulge, which you hadn't realized was now fully erect after Yunjin had sat on it a few minutes earlier.
"Oh god, that's embarrassing," you said, making a move to cover yourself before Yunjin grabbed your wrists.
"Nuh uh," Yunjin whispered close to your ear, letting out a tipsy giggle. "It's perfectly fine. Something this pleasing to the eye shouldn't be hidden, should it?"
Over Somi's shoulder, you saw Aeri and Minjeong whispering to each other between giggles. They were up to something, and that never meant anything good. When they noticed you watching, they stopped talking and pretended nothing had happened.
"Minjeong-ah, remember that time we played spin the bottle on tour?" Aeri asked.
"Yeah, of course!" Minjeong agreed.
"I feel like Yunjinie and Somi would have a lot of fun with that, and oh!" Aeri leaned forward and pulled something out from under the sofa—a small black plastic bag you hadn't even noticed before. "Guess what I prepared for today?"
Minjeong opened her mouth and brought her hand to her lips, feigning surprise as if she didn't already know everything.
"What did you prepare for us, Aeri-chan?" Minjeong asked. She was a terrible actress when she was drunk.
Aeri opened the small bag and took out a deck of cards held together by a hair tie. You could only see the backs, satin black with the silhouette of a white peach emoji that shimmered in the light.
"Our spin-the-bottle games tend to be a little… spicy, so," Aeri removed the hair tie from the cards and placed them on the coffee table, organized in three decks. You then realized the peach emojis were different colors on each one: white, red and black. "Why not dedicate the whole game to the spicy stuff from the start? We just spin the bottle, choose a card, and see what happens!"
You sighed.
"Let me guess, it was her idea," you pointed at Minjeong, who was grinning from ear to ear.
"Basically," Aeri said.
"I think it's a brilliant idea!" said Somi, standing up to go sit on the floor to the left of the coffee table, almost tripping over its leg.
"I'm in too," said Yunjin, sitting down on the opposite side. "Where did you get them? Did you print them yourself?"
"Of course! No way I'd ask a stranger to print the things those cards say."
"God help me…" you muttered to yourself. "But hey, one thing," you raised your voice.
They all looked at you.
"You supposedly did this to me because I wasn't in line with your vibe," you said, referring to your lack of clothing. "But I don't see you in your underwear. So, what are you waiting for?"
The girls exchanged glances, all four with small smiles playing at the corners of their lips. Seconds later, Somi shrugged and began to take off her pajamas. All the girls automatically followed suit.
You wished you had another pair of eyes to fully appreciate the scene, because with the two you had, you couldn't follow every movement as closely as you wanted. By the time they were all down to their underwear, however, you were able to linger on each one.
First, you scrutinized Somi. Her breasts were, virtually, a perfect pair. Covered by a black bra with minimal push-up, they were the perfect size and shape. They alone made your mouth water. But not content with that, she had a slim, toned body, the result of hours at the gym, with defined abs and firm buttocks, barely covered by a lace thong the same color as her bra.
Inevitably, your gaze jumped to Yunjin. She wore a tight navy blue sports bra that squeezed her small breasts together, her nipples pressing against the fabric in the chill of the room. Maybe she wasn't as well-endowed up there as Somi, but she more than made up for it by being a total knockout in every other department. A flat, perfect stomach, slightly fleshy. Wide hips too. And best of all, legs to die for and a perfectly round ass that you knew instantly looked gorgeous in backshots. Her panties were white, a less daring cut than Somi's but small enough to drive you wild.
There was nothing about Aeri and Minjeong that you didn't already know, and yet, you were always amazed at how beautiful and hot they were. Aeri with her fleshy, perfect thighs and a more than generous pair of breasts, and Minjeong with her sculpted body and one of the most beautiful abs you'd ever seen. One wore all-black underwear and the other pink.
Your cock was so hard it was practically tearing through your boxers.
"Is this better, baby?" Aeri asked, crossing her legs, one thigh over the other, making them look even more enticing, her hands on the knee of her upper leg.
"Much better," you slowly nodded.
"Alright!" Minjeong clumsily picked up one of the empty soju bottles from the floor and made room on the coffee table to place it right in the middle. "Who wants to start?"
"Me!" Somi blurted out, as Minjeong and Aeri moved slightly apart. "We'll spin it twice, once to determine who will do the dare, and the other time to…" She paused, her tongue catching at the end of her sentence. "You know what I mean."
“The cards are sorted by three types, by the way: white, red and black,” Minjeong explained. “We will start with the white ones cause they are the softer ones.”
Somi placed a hand on the bottle and, without further ado, spun it. It landed first on Minjeong.
"Of course, Satan had to start," you said, watching Minjeong celebrate with giggles and not-so-subtle applause.
Somi spun the bottle again, and this time it landed on Yunjin, who looked at Minjeong.
"Alright, draw a card, pretty girl," Yunjin said, sitting back on her heels.
Minjeong leaned forward and picked a card from the deck.
"You must let the other person kiss your entire abdomen and the sides of your waist," Minjeong read aloud, and while looking at Yunjin, she placed the card at the bottom of the deck.
"Hmm, that sounds fun," Yunjin said, her hands on her thighs. "Basically, the dream of absolutely everyone who watches your fancams. Come here."
You all watched intently as Minjeong stood up and walked slowly toward Yunjin, swaying her hips, proud that her perfect body was the center of attention. She stopped right in front of Yunjin, who, in a completely uninhibited manner, took hold of her hips and pulled her a little closer. Just then, Lil Wayne's "Got Money" started playing.
"Is it timed?" Yunjin asked, looking at Aeri.
"If the card didn't specify, then no."
"Great."
Without another word, Yunjin looked Minjeong in the eyes and slowly moved closer to her abdomen until she placed her lips on her skin. Minjeong parted her lips slightly and let out a soft gasp, her hand resting on Yunjin's head as she showered wet, sensual kisses all over her belly. Yunjin maintained a firm grip on Minjeong's hips, something you knew drove her wild.
Almost a minute passed before Yunjin finally moved to the left side of Minjeong's waist. There, she repeated the process, leaving small kisses and licks. Minjeong moaned when she nibbled a bit of flesh on the lower part of that side, and then moved to the other side. Another minute passed until Yunjin finally finished the job with a small kiss below Minjeong's navel.
"That's enough," Yunjin said, wiping some of her own saliva from her lips with the back of her hand. "Easily the sexiest belly I've ever kissed, you gotta be proud."
Minjeong smiled, visibly a little turned on by now, and blew her a kiss before going to sit down in her seat, not bothering to wipe the saliva Yunjin had left on her abdomen.
"Are you next?" Yunjin asked, looking at you, then at Aeri, who was the next person to Somi's left. "Or you?"
"Me," Aeri said. "Let's let him be last."
"But it doesn't matter, right? The order doesn't dictate who does the dare, only who the bottle points to," you said. Your own eloquence for being as drunk as a skunk surprised even you.
"Yeah, but I just want you to be last at something," she giggled.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, girl."
Aeri leaned forward—one arm tucked under her breasts to lift them and make her cleavage look deeper, completely on purpose—and spun the bottle. This time it pointed at you first. You couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the situation. Aeri just rolled her eyes.
"Oh my god, looks like I'm not the last one," you said, letting out another stupid giggle.
"Shut up."
Aeri spun the bottle again. This time it pointed at herself. You and the girls burst out laughing.
"This has to be a joke…"
"That's what you get for being a hater."
"Just pick a card, dumbass."
You stood up and picked a card to read it. Aeri had put a lot of effort into it; the font was perfectly chosen, black on a white background, and the letters were embossed. It looked expensive.
"You must lie on top of the other person in a missionary position and slowly kiss their entire face, neck, and chest," you read aloud, and proceeded to place the card at the bottom of the deck. "Do I have to take off your bra?"
"No, if you had to, the card would say so."
"Alright, are you coming or am I?"
"I'm not getting up from this couch," Aeri said. "If I do, I'm going to trip like an idiot."
"Like that night in Chicago when you almost knocked your teeth out?" Minjeong asked with a giggle.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Aeri retorted, watching you walk toward her.
You stood in front of Aeri, who couldn't help but glance at your hard bulge before meeting your eyes again. Without making her wait, you bent your knees and put one arm around her waist, your other hand under one of her knees to lift her and make her lie face up on the sofa, which was wide enough to accommodate the activity.
Aeri let you handle her easily and opened her legs wide when you climbed onto the sofa and positioned yourself on top of her. You purposely let your bulge rub against her crotch through her panties, making her discreetly bite her lip.
"The card didn't say to do that," she said, her hands on your chest.
"I'm not doing anything," you replied. "It's not my fault I'm this big."
Aeri rolled her eyes, and before she could say anything, you leaned down and pressed your lips to hers. The card said 'all face,' and that inevitably included her mouth. She didn't object, nor did she seem bothered. On the contrary, she let you take control of the kiss and explore her mouth with your tongue, letting out soft moans.
After tasting Aeri's soft, alcohol-flavored lips, you pulled away and began kissing her entire face, from her cheeks to either side of her jaw, ending at her chin. From there, you moved to her neck and repeated the process, patiently covering every inch and licking every tiny vein.
A minute later, after leaving her neck coated in saliva, you moved down to her collarbone and paused at the upper curve of her breasts. Aeri gasped and stroked your hair as you kissed the contours of her soft but firm mounds, also moving down her cleavage to kiss the inner part.
Apparently, you were doing so well that you made her forget you were playing a game, because she lowered a hand between your bodies and gave your cock a gentle squeeze through your boxers. You immediately pulled away and sat back on your heels. Aeri, her cheeks flushed, opened her eyes and looked at you, confused.
"Why did you…?" she glanced at the other girls, who were watching, amused. "Oh, right."
"You were getting excited, huh?" you asked with a giggle, getting up from the sofa to go back to your seat.
"S-shut up…"
You slumped back onto your single sofa like a sack of potatoes, knowing you'd have to save your energy for what was to come. The girls seemed calm, but the little glances they exchanged with each other and at your bulge gave them away.
"Your turn, Yunjinie," you said.
Yunjin leaned toward the small table, her back arched and part of her ass exposed to the side for you to see, and spun the bottle, which pointed to Minjeong once it stopped.
"Again?!" Somi asked, exasperated.
"I promise I didn't rig the bottle," Minjeong said, as Yunjin spun the bottle again. This time it pointed to you. "Oh wow, that's convenient," Minjeong giggled.
Minjeong picked a card from the white deck. Her face lit up as she read it to herself.
"You and the other person must remain kissing until the next round's dare is read," she read, and looked you in the eyes.
"Pretty convenient," you agreed, patting your thigh. "Come here."
"Don't even think about spinning the bottle until my lips are on his," Minjeong warned Aeri as she stood up and walked toward you.
Once in front of you, Minjeong straddled your lap, wrapped her arms around your neck, and pulled you into a fiery, passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around her slender body and pressed her against you, your fingers digging into the delicious little bits of flesh on either side of her waist.
As you and Minjeong gasped against each other's mouths in the middle of a somewhat disastrous kiss, you heard the bottle spinning on the wooden table in the background.
"Uhh, okay," you heard Yunjin say, probably because the bottle pointed to her first.
Even though it wasn't at all what the dare said, Minjeong started lightly grinding her hips against your bulge, making it rub against her pussy through the fabric. Her fingers were tangled in your hair. Inevitably, you also let yourself go and squeezed her ass.
"Hurry up before those two start taking off what little clothing they have left," Somi said.
You heard Aeri spin the bottle again.
"Oh my god, when is that damn thing going to point at me?" Somi complained. "And that's enough, you two!"
Neither you nor Minjeong heard Yunjin read the challenge, so you continued what you were doing.
"Use your feet to caress the other person's crotch over their underwear while a third person kisses you for 30 seconds," Yunjin read with a giggle. "Come be that third person, Douma."
Using all your willpower not to put your hand inside Minjeong's panties, you pulled away from her lips as soon as Yunjin uttered the last word. Minjeong cleared her throat angrily and grabbed your face to whisper in your ear:
"You'd better destroy my pussy as soon as you get the chance," she said, and got up from your lap to return to her place.
Minjeong moved out of your sight just in time to let you see Yunjin, still seated, crawl closer to Aeri, whose knees were spread wide with one hand propped behind her on the sofa seat. Then, Yunjin placed her hands on the floor behind her, her back pressed against Somi's chest, who was kneeling behind her, and lifted one leg to press her toes against Aeri's pussy through the fabric of her panties.
"Time's ticking… now," Minjeong said, looking at her phone.
Immediately, Somi cupped Yunjin's face in her hands, tilted her head back, and bent down to press her lips to Yunjin's, locking them in a sexy kiss that you couldn't tear your eyes away from. Meanwhile, Aeri let out soft moans as Yunjin's foot gently rubbed the top of her slit.
"Oh my god, I hate you for coming out with this fucking shitty game…" Aeri muttered, her eyes closed, enjoying Yunjin's foot on her pussy. "I want someone to eat me out so bad. And also a cock in my mouth."
"It's not my fault you're not enjoying a little bit of excitement," Minjeong replied, still looking at her phone. "Fifteen seconds."
Somi made the most of every second, her hands on Yunjin's collarbone. Their heads bobbed from side to side, filling the silence with soft moans and wet sounds. A little saliva lingered on Yunjin's chin.
When there were about five seconds left, you noticed Aeri subtly pull her panties aside and let Yunjin rub her big toe between her glistening pussy folds. Minjeong, focused on the timer, remained clueless. You, of course, weren't a snitch, so you let her be happy until the alarm on Minjeong's phone signaled the end of the dare.
Aeri immediately put her panties back on, and Somi pulled away from Yunjin's lips, both gazing into each other's eyes with looks filled with pure lust. Yunjin looked at Aeri.
"You liked it, huh?" she asked. "Toward the end, I felt you were…wetter than usual, all of a sudden."
Aeri's cheeks flushed. She chose not to say anything; she just suppressed a small smile and nodded.
"It's my turn, isn't it?" Somi asked, getting up. "Let's do one more round of white cards."
Somi circled the coffee table, swaying her sexy hips as she passed you, and sat back down on the floor where she had been. She spun the bottle. Finally, it pointed at her.
"Thank God!" she exclaimed, spinning the bottle again. Now it pointed at Yunjin. Somi grinned from ear to ear. "Please, something good… please, something good…"
Somi picked a card from the white deck.
"Let the other person kiss the inside of your thighs for twenty seconds," Somi read, before placing the card at the bottom of the deck. "I can sit wherever I want, right?"
"Sure, you can," Aeri replied, shrugging.
It didn't surprise you at all when Somi, a smile on her face, stood up and went to sit right on top of your hard bulge, her pretty, firm buttocks on either side of the outline of your cock.
"This is diabolical of you, just so you know," you said, gritting your teeth.
"And you can't touch," Somi said with a giggle, spreading her legs wide so her calves dangled over the armrests of the armchair. "But at least you can watch."
Somi leaned back and rested her back against your chest. You had a perfect view of her deep cleavage and her beautiful breasts, which looked like a real treat up close. Yunjin stood up and knelt on the floor in front of you, and after waiting for Minjeong's signal, she took Somi by the front of her thighs and placed her lips on the inner part.
"Mmmgh, yeah…" Somi moaned softly, very close to your ear.
Yunjin kept her wet, saliva-laden kisses on Somi's thighs. You followed her every move intently. She moved over every inch of milky skin, getting dangerously close to her pussy but not quite touching it. Somi placed a hand on the top of her head and did everything she could to tease you specifically, grinding against your bulge and arching her back to make her breasts stand out.
After a few seconds that felt like damn hours, Minjeong finally declared the twenty seconds over.
Yunjin wiped her lips with the back of her hand, stood up, and leaned in to give Somi a small but sensual kiss, a scene you could observe very closely and which made your cock throb beneath Somi's ass.
"Hey! Nobody told you to do that!" Minjeong protested.
Somi pulled away with a giggle and got up from your lap. They both dispersed to their places as if nothing had happened, but you already had a little stain of precum on your boxers—luckily they were black, so it wasn't very noticeable.
"Let's move on to the red cards!" Minjeong announced with a small smile. Of all of them, she was the least obvious about how turned on she was. Maybe because she considered it a competitive game. It wouldn't be unusual for her. "Your turn, oppa!"
With your stomach starting to tingle from how turned on you were, you leaned toward the table and spun the bottle. It pointed to Somi first. When you spun it again, you prayed every prayer you knew that it would point to you, however, it pointed to Aeri.
At this point there was no need to say anything, so Somi just leaned over to take a card from the red deck. Just then, W.AVE's "Breathe" started playing.
"You and the other person must share a sloppy kiss for one minute. Your lips cannot separate," Somi read, and without a second thought, she stood up to go to Aeri.
Everyone, including Minjeong, with a finger on her phone's timer, leaned closer for a better view. Somi sat next to Aeri, and with one hand on her thigh, leaned in to crash their lips together. Aeri greeted her with a small moan, holding her chin with two fingers.
True to the dare, the two devoured each other's mouths as if the world were going to end tomorrow. Saliva soon began to spill from the corners of both their lips, in small amounts at first, then getting really messy. On the other hand, the cacophony of wet sounds and soft moans sent your boiler into overdrive.
Damn, you wished you could get in there so hard.
Yunjin gasped.
"Oh my god, they're really taking this seriously," she said, watching intently as Somi slowly climbed on top of Aeri.
"You have ten seconds left," Minjeong warned, her legs tightly crossed.
Aeri grabbed Somi by the waist and stuck out her tongue. Somi stuck hers out and began swirling it with Aeri's, their saliva dripping from their chins to their legs. Their moans were louder now. If time hadn't run out, they would have ended up fucking right there.
"Mmmgh fuck," Aeri gasped when Somi pulled away from her lips, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.
"You're delicious," Somi said, biting her lower lip, staring at her closely. "You're just as delicious down there?"
"Somi Douma!" Yunjin called. "To your place!"
Somi looked at Yunjin and rolled her eyes. Reluctantly, she stood up and went to sit in her place.
Yunjin spun the bottle as soon as Somi's ass touched the floor. The bottle pointed at herself first. When she spun it again, however, the bottle landed pointing at you.
Thank goodness.
When Yunjin picked the card from the red deck and read it, she licked her lips and looked at your bulge. Suddenly, you weren't thanking God so much.
"You must lick the other person's genitals only once, slowly from bottom to top," Yunjin said, rereading the card before placing it at the bottom of the deck. "The person must remove their underwear."
The eyes of the four girls gleamed like car headlights, eager to finally see what you'd been hiding under your boxers for so long. The social pressure landed on your shoulders like a punching bag. Not that you cared, but the fact that they all had their eyes fixed on you made you feel, once again, like a poor gazelle among hungry lionesses.
You sighed.
"I guess I don't have much of a choice."
With that, you reached for the waistbands of your boxers and very slowly began to pull them down. On purpose, of course. When you finally freed your cock, which bounced against your abdomen, they all gasped at the same time.
"Holy cow…" Yunjin murmured, as you tossed your boxers aside, her gaze fixed on your erect, throbbing cock. "It looks so… so suckable."
"It would look even better inside me," Somi added.
Yunjin, looking you in the eyes, got on all fours and began to slowly crawl toward you, her hips swaying hypnotically and her ass looking like the eighth wonder of the world. She stayed in that position even as she settled between your legs, her beautiful face right in front of your balls.
You had to hold your breath when Yunjin flicked her tongue from between her full, perfect lips and planted it directly on the bottom of your scrotum.
"Oh lord have mercy…" you gasped.
Yunjin, her tongue fully extended, very slowly moved from the bottom of your balls, reaching the base of your shaft before continuing her ascent. You held your cock straight to make it easier for her, tempted to grab her by the nape of her neck and shove it into her mouth.
A small moan escaped you halfway up, and when her tongue finally reached the tip, she finished with a light flick on your urethra and gave your glans a sensual kiss.
"So tasty, fuck," Yunjin gasped, giving you an extra kiss on the back of your shaft. "I can't believe these hoes have been eating this for months."
"Yeah, and you better back off right now! We're still playing!" Minjeong said from her seat.
Yunjin reluctantly moved away from your cock and returned to her seat. You were left breathing heavily, so hard you felt like you were going to explode.
"Are you sure we want to keep playing, Minjeong-ah?" Somi asked.
"Stop being such crybabies! We haven't even gotten to the black cards yet. Things are going to get interesting, I promise."
Minjeong was next to spin the bottle. It landed on Somi first, then on… you.
Damn.
"Poor bastard," Aeri said with a giggle, trying not to fall over on her side from the sudden dizziness that washed over her. "You won't get a moment's rest."
Somi quickly grabbed a card. A mischievous giggle escaped her lips.
"Use one of your feet to massage the other person's balls while they masturbate, staring at you for one minute," she read.
You raised your eyebrows and shook your head. If Minjeong had written all those dares, which was likely, that girl certainly had more in common with Lucifer than you'd imagined.
"Would you come here, darling?" Somi asked. "It seems to me you've been sitting there for too long."
Somi was right. It would be worse for you if you stayed seated, because in the long run you'd either get drowsy or find it incredibly difficult to exert yourself physically later.
So you stood up. You wobbled a bit during the first few steps, but you managed to stand beside Somi without much trouble.
Her eyes went straight to your cock. She leaned back slightly, propped herself up on her elbows, lifted one leg, and brought her foot close to your balls, just like when Yunjin had to do the same with Aeri. A shiver ran through your body as her toes made contact with your balls, still slightly damp with Yunjin's saliva.
"Minjeong-ah, set the time," you gasped. Somi was gently stroking your balls.
"Put your hand on your cock first."
You let out a heavy exhalation and obeyed. Minjeong gave you the green light then.
As you began to rub your cock up and down, you met Somi's gaze and held it. She moved her foot as the dare required, with slow, deep strokes to knead your balls. You took a deep breath. The dare didn't specify how quickly you had to jerk off, so you opted for a slow rhythm that wouldn't wreak havoc on you.
Even so, it felt like you were being burned alive from the inside. Somi's gaze was intense. Piercing. And the way she moved her foot against your balls was perfect, with a technique almost as good as Seulgi's. As if that weren't enough, Somi started moaning. Maybe on purpose, just to torture you. But she was visibly aroused.
"Jesus Christ, how much longer, Kim Winter?" you murmured, involuntarily moving your hand a little faster on your shaft.
"Ten seconds."
Quickly, Somi spat in her hand, lubricated her other foot, and switched places, now massaging your balls with the new wet sensation. You started jerking off even faster, moaning to give her a taste of her own medicine.
"And… time!" Minjeong said. "God, it's starting to get hot in here."
"Oh, you think so?" Aeri asked.
Somi lowered her foot and let you quickly return to your seat. Had you stayed there, you wouldn't have been responsible for how you would have acted towards her.
"Hurry up and spin the fucking bottle," you said.
"Uhhh, I love it when you talk like that," Aeri giggled. "Yes, daddy!"
Aeri spun the bottle. It landed on Minjeong first, then on Somi.
Minjeong picked a card.
"Join another person to eat the target's tits and kiss their stomach simultaneously for forty seconds," Minjeong read aloud, her gaze immediately shifting to you. "How much do you want to eat a nice pair of tits, daddy?" she asked with a giggle.
"God, I'm dying for it," you replied. "But she has to take off her bra, then."
Somi immediately lay down on the floor, legs outstretched and propped up on her elbows, reaching behind her back to undo her bra with a single, agile movement. In doing so, she revealed what you dared to think were the most beautiful pair of tits you'd ever seen. Literally perfect shape and size. The kind of anatomical specimen a Renaissance painter could have immortalized in one of their most illustrious works.
"Fuck, look at that," Minjeong said, standing up almost at the same time as you. You both knelt on either side of Somi. "I think I've just fallen in love."
"And there's enough for both of you," Somi said with a proud little smile. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
You lay down on your side, propped up on one elbow. Minjeong did the same. Together, as soon as Aeri signaled that the timer was set, you brought your mouths to one of Somi's breasts, eliciting a moan from her.
You were sure you'd never felt anything like Somi's breasts in your mouth. Her rosy nipples were soft and small, easy to manipulate, and her mound felt like holding a soft cloud, so squishy you wanted to shove it all in your mouth. You licked the nipple on your side eagerly, leaving kisses and noisy sucks, while Somi stroked the hair at the nape of your neck, letting out soft moans.
Unfortunately, you didn't have much time, and the dare was clear. So, after spending what you thought were twenty seconds on her breasts, you and Minjeong—perhaps a little out of sync—moved down to her perfectly toned, rock-solid abdomen, planting a series of kisses around her navel. Somi, purely on instinct, spread her legs wide, feet flat on the ground, innocently believing that you would then go down on her.
"Time!" Aeri said loudly, much to Somi's dismay. A cracked voice came out when she said it, which made Yunjin burst out laughing.
The three of you weren't so amused. Somi looked at you, panting, as you stopped kissing her body and knelt above her.
"One more turn of red cards and we move on to the black ones," Minjeong said, and rather impulsively took off her bra and panties, leaving herself completely naked. "I can't stand how horny I am anymore."
Just like Minjeong, Aeri took off her underwear. Hopefully, you looked behind you only to find Yunjin also removing her panties and bra. Seeing her bare ass was like seeing a unicorn for the first time. Finally, next to you, Somi quickly took off her panties and put them in your hand. They were wet.
"Here, a little gift," she said, winking at you. "Keep them."
"Back to your seats, quick," Aeri urged you.
You and Minjeong returned to your seats. Now it was Somi's turn to spin the bottle. It landed first on you, then on Aeri. You hurried to grab a card.
"You must rub a part of your body of your choice against the other person's bare ass for thirty seconds," you read aloud.
Aeri put her legs up on the sofa, turned her back to everyone, and bent forward, holding the backrest with her back perfectly arched and her ass perfectly exposed to you and the girls. Her glistening pussy shimmered in the overhead lights. You left Somi’s panties in your seat, stood up and walked over to stand right behind her.
You snapped your fingers in front of Minjeong's face, who was mesmerized watching you hold your cock and bring it closer to Aeri's ass. She blinked and looked at you.
"Hey, the timer, dummy," you said.
"Oh, right. Okay… go."
Aeri was looking at you over her shoulder as you grabbed her by the waist and positioned your cock against her left buttock. You started rubbing the tip of your cock up and down her smooth, creamy skin. You both gasped. Aeri gripped the backrest tightly, breathing deeply, twisting her hips slightly to maximize contact against your shaft.
After a few seconds, you went from rubbing your tip to rubbing the entire back of your shaft against both her buttocks and her ass rack. Aeri, like a cat in heat, moaned and arched her back further, hoping that maybe you'd realized you were completely unaware of the game and decided to fuck her once and for all. But your willpower was ironclad.
"Alright, that's enough," Minjeong put her phone aside and pushed you by the stomach away from Aeri. "Black cards."
You were next, so you hurried to your side and spun the bottle, not even bothering to sit back down. Aeri was pointed to first, then Yunjin. Aeri picked a card, this time from the black deck.
"Oh fuck, this must be my lucky day," Aeri said. "The other person has to eat your ass while you masturbate them. The dare ends when one of you cums."
"Hey… can I touch myself a little while we watch?" Somi asked, biting her lower lip, watching as Yunjin stood up and walked toward the main sofa. You could only see her huge ass as she swayed it with every step.
"No way!" Minjeong said. "We all suffer equally here."
Yunjin lay down on the sofa next to Aeri, one foot on the floor and the other leg extended. Aeri understood perfectly what she had to do and straddled her, facing away from her, adjusting herself until her ass was right over Yunjin's face, her face level between the redhead's legs. Since there was no timer, Aeri didn't wait before lowering her ass onto Yunjin's face and reaching for her pussy to rub her clit.
The first moans soon filled the room, raising the level of arousal for all of you. Aeri's whimpers were the most prominent, as her mouth wasn't fully occupied compared to Yunjin's, who, squeezing her buttocks, was devouring Aeri's asshole with the hunger you knew short-circuited the Japanese woman.
The situation demanded it, so you quickly stood up—a bad mistake, as you felt a little dizzy—and turned off one of the sets of ceiling lights, leaving only the dimmer, secondary lights on. This gave the entire apartment a more intimate atmosphere, in keeping with what you all knew was about to happen.
Aeri moved her wrist faster, her fingers making quick circles on Yunjin's clit, moaning louder and louder at the high-level cunnilingus she was receiving. You had no idea who was closer, as Yunjin was also twisting her hips. In the end, Aeri's weak spot won out.
"Oh my god!!" Aeri squealed, grinding her trembling hips against Yunjin's face.
She should have stopped right then, but like the good samaritan she was, she kept rubbing Yunjin's clit—not without spitting a little on it first—until the redhead came beneath her, her lower body twitching in slight spasms that subsided after a few seconds.
"Guys, I swear to God, I don't know how much longer I can hold out," said Somi, who no longer knew how to position herself on the floor to stop the tingling in her groin from torturing her. You were more used to the sensation, unfortunately against your will thanks to some clients with… peculiar tastes.
"You just have to hold out until after your turn, honey," said Minjeong.
"I'm going to spin the bottle for Yunjin," you said, seeing that she and Aeri were still on top of each other, catching their breath.
When you spun the bottle, it landed on Minjeong and then on you. Minjeong hurriedly grabbed a card.
"The other person must penetrate your pussy with three fingers while you give them oral sex for one minute," Minjeong read.
You jumped up from the couch—same mistake again—and stumbled over to Minjeong, snatched the phone from her hand to set the one-minute timer yourself, and shoved your cock straight into her mouth.
Minjeong accepted your shaft into her warm mouth with a hungry moan, taking more than half of it in one thrust. Panting, you spread her legs and moistened three of your fingers with saliva, then wound them between her wet folds, rubbing them up and down and slowly forcing them inside her walls.
Minjeong squealed with pleasure around your cock, sucking harder, louder, her head pumping through almost every inch as you pushed your fingers deep into her pussy and started moving your wrist.
"Oh my god, I want to die!" Somi shrieked from somewhere to your left.
Yunjin and Aeri had already moved away from each other, but not before sharing a brief but sensual kiss. Yunjin returned to her place, watching intently as you slowly fucked Minjeong's pussy with three fingers while she sucked your cock, gripping your thighs with her hands.
Seconds ticked by, and Minjeong soon coated your entire cock with a thick layer of saliva, which she slurped back up with each pump of her head. With twenty seconds left, you were moving your wrist faster and faster. Consequently, the moans of the short-haired redhead grew louder, but she didn't stop pumping her head for a moment.
"Fuck, she's so good," Yunjin commented from behind you.
"Oh, don't even mention it," you gasped, the veins in your arm bulging from how fast you were moving it with only ten seconds left.
Aware of the time, Minjeong made one last effort and took you deep into her throat, gagging herself a little with all the saliva and the amount of meat in her mouth. You left your fingers buried deep and groaned, curling them upward to caress the upper walls.
Minjeong's phone alarm signaled the end of the dare.
Minjeong pulled you out of her mouth with a sharp breath, strands of saliva connecting the tip of your cock to her lips and chin. You pulled your fingers out and took a step back.
"I don't know who's next to spin the bottle, but for God's sake, hurry up," you muttered under your breath.
"It's my turn, move out of the way, idiot," Minjeong shoved you aside with a push to your thigh.
You returned to your place as Minjeong spun the bottle. Somi and Yunjin. The blonde girl picked a card.
"The other person must lick your clitoris until you orgasm or three minutes have passed," Somi read, before placing the card on the table. "Come here, beautiful."
Somi leaned back and, once again, propped herself up on her elbows to spread her legs wide, offering her pretty pink pussy on a silver platter for Yunjin.
Yunjin crawled towards her and got on her hands and knees between her legs, her hands tucked under her thighs before planting her mouth directly between her folds. Somi moaned in relief and clutched Yunjin's hair as she devoured her pussy the way she'd surely been longing for this whole time.
You had the perfect view from behind: Yunjin's perfect ass, raised high, so delicious you wanted to go there and bury your face between her cheeks. To avoid it, you exchanged glances with Minjeong and Aeri. The latter, now recovered and reclining on the sofa, looked back at you and gave you a signal that was more than clear: jerk off. You looked at Minjeong, who nodded.
Without them needing to insist, you reached for your cock and began to slowly rub it up and down. Minjeong and Aeri followed your lead, both bringing their hands to their pussies to touch themselves without drawing too much attention.
Somi didn't even come close to noticing what you were doing. How could she? Yunjin was eating her pussy with such fervor that the constant tapping of her tongue and the sensual kisses between her folds reached your ears without any problem. Her head hung back, clutching one breast with one hand and gripping Yunjin's head with the other.
"Fuck… you know what?" Minjeong said loudly. "Screw the game. You, come here."
That was directed at you. You stood up—slowly at first this time, since the last two times you'd nearly fallen on your ass like an idiot—and strode over to the girls. The first thing you did was grab Aeri's face and smash your lips against hers.
Aeri met your lips with a long, relieved moan. Her hand, along with Minjeong's, went to your shaft and slowly rubbed it up and down. One stayed on top, the other went down a little further to stroke your balls. You put your hands to work too, one to play with Aeri's nipples and the other to rub Minjeong's pussy up and down.
After kissing Aeri for a solid minute, you pulled away from her lips and immediately received Minjeong's. Aeri then took your cock by the shaft and brought it to her mouth, sucking on the tip. At that same moment, you both heard Somi let out a high-pitched squeal, followed by a guttural growl. Yunjin had definitely brought her to orgasm.
"Hey, what are you two doing?" Somi demanded after a few seconds. She sounded flustered.
"Didn't you hear?" Yunjin asked. "The game's over. Minjeongie declared it."
"Oh, I didn't hear a thing."
"Of course you didn't."
From what little you could hear, those two were now kissing.
Aeri sucked harder on your cock, her lips further and further away. Minjeong pulled away from your lips, and just then Aeri took you out of her mouth so that now they were both joining in, licking and kissing the sides of your shaft. You groaned and put your hands behind your back, watching as they took turns sucking your cock.
"Who's going to get their pussy pounded first?" you asked, one hand cupping each of their faces.
"It should be me," Aeri said, giving you little kisses on the back of your cock while Minjeong sucked on your tip. "This bitch took her little game too far."
"At least it was fun," you said.
Minjeong popped you out of her mouth.
"Right? You guys are so fucking boring and impatient!"
"Funny coming from you," Aeri gave her a disdainful look.
"Shut up, both of you, please," you took Aeri's hand. "You bring that pussy over here."
Aeri took your hand and stood up, only to turn around and kneel on the edge of the sofa, bending forward and assuming the same position she'd been in a few minutes ago when you did the dare, ass up in the air, back arched, and hands gripping the backrest. Minjeong remained kneeling to one side, her face resting against one of Aeri's buttocks, watching intently as you took your cock, rubbed the tip between Aeri's plump folds, and slowly slid your shaft inside her.
"Ohhh my god I could cry from fucking happiness right now!" Aeri moaned, her head hanging between her shoulders.
"And I'd cry from envy," said Minjeong, watching as you slid every inch of your hard, throbbing meat inside Aeri, who let out a moan as you penetrated her to the very depths.
"Don't listen to Aeri, sweetheart," you said through gritted teeth, speaking to Minjeong though unable to tear your gaze away from how your shaft had disappeared between Aeri's perfect, round buttocks. "I had fun with the game, and it's really well done."
Minjeong giggled and blew you a kiss.
"Thanks, honey," she said, and gave Aeri a sharp slap on the buttock she was lying on, making her squeal. "Now hurry up and make her cum."
"I'd be delighted."
You gripped Aeri's waist with both hands and began pumping your hips back and forth, panting. Aeri's pussy, wet and warm inside, let you slide in and out smoothly, almost without friction. There was no need to let her get used to your length; in less than a minute you were already slamming your pelvis against her buttocks.
Minjeong leaned back against the sofa’s back and spent that time kissing Aeri. Out of curiosity, you glanced to your left for a moment. Somi and Yunjin were deep in their own world, now in a 69 position, with Somi on top. They were both eating each other out, but Somi kept giving you little glances from time to time.
You turned your attention back to Aeri.
You delivered another slap to the same buttock that Minjeong had left red seconds before and ran the same hand up her back to her hair, grabbing it in a ponytail and pulling it back. Aeri cried out in pleasure, her head now held back by you. Minjeong kissed her neck for a few seconds, then lay down on the sofa, positioned herself beneath Aeri's body, and propped herself up on her elbows to suck on her breasts.
"You've been starving for cock this whole time, baby? Hm?" you asked, shaking her body with each thrust.
"So fucking much, daddy!" Aeri squealed. "I live and breathe for that cock!"
You delivered another hard slap to her buttock, making her whimper. Minjeong adjusted her position and shifted horizontally relative to Aeri's body, leaving her face directly beneath Aeri's pussy as you pounded into her like a madman. She then stuck out her tongue and began licking her clit. Aeri went completely wild and quickly came seconds after.
"Mmmgh fuck yeah baby," you growled, squeezing one of her buttocks hard.
As Aeri writhed and moaned softly, almost breathless, you pulled your cock out of her pussy with a sudden jerk and thrust it into Minjeong's mouth, who moaned around the shaft. You repeated the process a few more times, penetrating Aeri's pussy all the way and then moving it to Minjeong's mouth.
After that brief moment, Aeri fell onto her side, careful not to hit the girl beneath her. Minjeong moved aside and lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, looking into your eyes.
"Do you want some too, baby?" you asked, tapping her face with your cock, dripping with Aeri's fluids.
Minjeong simply nodded silently, kissing your shaft and tip, her tongue swirling around it.
"Can I have some too?" a voice asked from behind your right shoulder.
Somi joined Minjeong on the sofa, straddling the redhead's body. Yunjin climbed on to your left, wrapping her arms and legs around Aeri, sharing a sensual post-orgasm kiss.
"If you can handle me fucking Minjeong first, then yes," you said, bringing your cock closer to both of their mouths.
"I can definitely do it," Somi said, and gave the tip of your cock a little kiss while Minjeong licked you from underneath. "This cock looks like it'll be worth the wait."
"It certainly does," Minjeong added. "But right now I'm going to be the one enjoying it," she looked at you. "Right?"
"That's right."
You climbed onto the sofa with the two of them. Somi made a move to get off Minjeong, but you grabbed her by the waist and shook your head.
"No, no, stay there," you said, looking directly at her pussy, which was piled right on top of Minjeong's, only a few centimeters further forward. "You'll save me some work later."
Somi looked at you over her shoulder, smiled slightly, and winked. So, as she turned to kiss Minjeong, you took your cock and guided it between Minjeong's open legs, plunging every inch between her tight—but already dilated by your fingers—walls.
Minjeong let out a moan against Somi's lips, and you groaned softly, one hand holding her thigh against her body as you rested deep inside her pussy. You began to move your hips, using your free hand to gently tease Somi's pussy, caressing up and down between her folds.
On the same couch but a couple of feet away, Yunjin was having Aeri eat her pussy. Aeri was facing away from you, so Yunjin was looking at you, her legs over Aeri's shoulders, calves intertwined behind her back.
"Like what you see, New York girl?" you asked, slowly finding your rhythm against Minjeong's pussy.
"Quite a sight, darling," Yunjin replied, her face contorting with each lick Aeri gave her. "I can't wait to be either of those two."
"Aeri's role isn't bad either," you commented.
"The good thing is you can play it whenever you want," Yunjin let her head fall back. "Mmgh fuck!!"
For the moment, you left Yunjin to her own devices and focused on what was your responsibility.
You were already going at a considerable pace, fucking Minjeong's pussy with strong, deep thrusts. The redhead was clinging to Somi's neck, both arms wrapped around her, moaning against her lips and occasionally letting the blonde girl kiss her neck, their breasts pressed together.
Since you couldn't slap Minjeong's ass in that position, Somi got the prize. Two slaps to her buttocks made her squeal with pain and pleasure. And seconds later, you intensified this last thing by slowly inserting two fingers into her pussy. Somi moaned and looked at you over her shoulder.
"Damn, you're quite versatile, aren't you?" she asked, watching you finger her pussy while simultaneously fucking Minjeong's at a completely different pace.
"I didn't get this far just because I have a big cock," you winked at her.
Demonstrating this, you thrust with all your might in and out of Minjeong, simultaneously fingering Somi's pussy with the same expertise.
"Oh god, he's good!" Somi whimpered.
"Tell me about it, fuck!" Minjeong moaned just after.
You continued fucking both holes for several long seconds. Minjeong was the first to cum, digging her nails into Somi's back. The blonde girl didn't hesitate to follow suit, cumming around your fingers and soaking them with the fluids that spilled a little from between her folds onto Minjeong's lower abdomen. Both were left trembling and shaking.
"Do you want me to replace my fingers with something else, sweetheart?" you asked, your fingers still inside Somi.
"Oh my god, yes, please!" Somi replied desperately, looking at you over her shoulder.
You would never dare to play with the desperation of a poor, horny girl, so you quickly pulled out of Minjeong, grabbed Somi by the waist, and pulled her until her pussy was right above the redhead's. You kept one hand on her ass to guide your cock inside her.
Somi rolled her eyes back and opened her mouth, gasping a loud breath, her chest heaving and her tits hanging over Minjeong's face, who stared at them mesmerized until she took one into her mouth. The blonde girl was completely speechless as you slid into her suffocating pussy, which made you clench your jaw, until she let out a long, sensual moan when you were balls deep inside her.
"Mmmgh what the fuck!" Somi whimpered. "You're so fucking deep!"
With both hands on her small but firm, round ass, you slowly began pumping your hips, feeling every tiny squeeze and every texture of her delicious pink pussy, its grippy walls clinging to your shaft as if they didn't want to let go.
"And you're going to make my cock explode," you growled. "What the hell is this pussy?"
"The best you'll ever have, of course," she said with a giggle, which was quickly cut short when you gave her another smack on the ass. Aeri and Minjeong would have been mad by that statement, but they were both too busy with other things. Aeri was wildly scissoring with Yunjin, now a little closer to you three, and Minjeong was sucking on Somi's tits.
"Well, you're not far off," you said, increasing the pace of your thrusts. "I could fucking fill it completely right now and I'd be thrilled."
"Oh, really?" Somi stared at you intently over her shoulder. "I was hoping my tits would make for a more appealing canvas for you, daddy."
You smirked, placed one hand on her lower back, and with the other, gripped the back of her neck, slamming your pelvis violently against her little ass.
"I like the way you think," you said, pressing down on her lower back, then grabbed a handful of her hair. "Will you give me your number at the end of the night?"
"Make me cum a couple of times, and we'll see if you earn it."
"It'll be a piece of cake."
Somi let out another moan as you gave her hair a sharp tug. You slammed her pussy from behind for several long seconds. Minjeong held her by the waist, squeezing her ass for you whenever she had the chance, and never stopping covering Somi's tits with saliva. The slapping sounds filled the big room.
"Mmmgh fuck fuck yes!" Somi whimpered, her tits bouncing over Minjeong’s face. "Just like that, daddy, just like that, daddy! I'm gonna cum all over your fucking cock, daddy!"
Moments after saying that, Somi fell silent, her face frozen as her lower body erupted in spasms and intense tremors. Her pussy tightened even more around your cock, making you groan softly as you considerably slowed your pace, letting her enjoy her orgasm.
Then, without warning, you pulled out of Somi's pussy and thrust your cock, slick with her fluids, back inside Minjeong, making her moan with pleasure against one of Somi's breasts. Holding her legs spread wide behind her, you fucked her like that for about a minute until you pulled out again.
"Lie on your back on top of her," you instructed Somi, feeling that you were about to cum.
Somi changed position and lay down just as you'd told her. Minjeong immediately hugged her and clung to her heavy breasts. Both of them spread their legs wide, their feet touching. The sight was a work of art, as they both gazed at you with eyes full of desire, waiting for you to fuck their pussies.
"You're both fucking gorgeous," you said, your cock in your hand. "Why don't you kiss for daddy?"
Without a word, Somi turned her head and met Minjeong's lips, melting into a fiery kiss whose sole purpose was to put on a show for you.
You guided your cock back inside Minjeong, since you'd left her hanging a few seconds before. The redhead moaned against Somi's lips. You grabbed her thighs and resumed your frenzied thrusts. Seconds later, you pulled out of her and moved into Somi's pussy, your thrusts making her beautiful tits bounce wildly.
The switching between their pussies was constant; no more than ten seconds would pass before you were fucking the other's pussy. Far from bothering them, this drove them both wild. Minjeong came first under Somi, without much room to writhe comfortably but still able to enjoy her orgasm. A bit later, Somi followed, arching her back over Minjeong's chest and letting out sensual moans to the ceiling.
You were next. You could already feel the tingle, so you thrust into Somi's sensitive pussy for a few more seconds, then pulled out and knelt to their right, the tip of your cock against one of Somi's nipples as you quickly masturbated.
Yunjin, recovered and a little disheveled now, quickly approached and peeked around the side of Minjeong and Somi's heads just as you exploded on the blonde girl's tits, a guttural groan scraping your throat. Spurt after spurt hit each of Somi's breasts, leaving them painted with the whitish, viscous liquid.
"Oh fuck, he cums a lot…" Yunjin said, watching as you let a few more drops out onto Somi's cleavage.
"I take my job pretty seriously," you said, trying to catch your breath. "That includes eating really well before situations like this."
"So you already knew we were going to end up like this?" Somi asked. Her semen-covered chest rose and fell violently.
"Any similar event in this house ends the same way," Minjeong said, comfortably settled beneath Somi's body. "He's used to it."
You brought your cock closer to Yunjin's face.
"Wanna clean up?" you asked.
Yunjin bit her lower lip, half-smiling.
"Mmm, yeah, why not?"
You let out a small moan as Yunjin brought those perfect lips closer and trapped the tip of your cock between them. Somi joined in from the side, peppering kisses along the side of your shaft as Yunjin moved her mouth further and began to suck you clean. Her lips felt amazing, but the best part was holding her gaze as she did her work.
What a fucking hot woman.
Yunjin pulled you out of her mouth with a little kiss on the tip.
"You're missing it there," you pointed to Somi's breasts.
"Wait!" Minjeong said quickly. "I want some too!"
With some effort, Minjeong slid out from under Somi, falling to the floor and then kneeling up. Then, along with Yunjin, she started licking the cum off Somi's breasts.
Aeri came out of the hallway that led to the dorms. You hadn't even noticed her get up and leave. She was carrying a small bottle of what you knew was lubricant in her hand. When she was a moderate distance from you, she tossed it to you. You caught it in mid-air.
"It's up to you what you do with that," she said, putting her hands on the back of the sofa to watch what was happening. "Oh wow."
"Mmm, so delicious," Yunjin looked up at you. "Girls, would you lend him to me for a little while?"
"For you alone?!" the other three said in unison.
"It's our first time," Yunjin said, getting up from the sofa. "It would be only fair if you let me try him out a little."
"They don't have to let you do anything," you said. "It's my decision," you looked at Minjeong specifically, eyebrows raised. "Right?"
Minjeong rolled her eyes.
"I guess."
Then you looked at Aeri.
"I don't care. I just want you to break my ass later," she said.
Finally, you looked at Somi.
"I want you for myself too," she said. "Right after her."
"Deal."
With that, you stood up, went to Yunjin's side, and took her hand to lead her to the other sofa, the one tucked into a corner of the apartment and shaped like a semicircle, right in front of the window that spanned that entire wall. You threw the lubricant bottle near one edge and sat down first, slumped down with your knees spread apart in the middle. Yunjin joined you on your right, sitting on her hip with her legs tucked up on the sofa, and allowed you to pull her close and kiss her.
Yunjin's lips felt as good as they looked, as soft and fluffy as two cotton balls. She let you taste them as much as you wanted, but she never relinquished control of the kiss. Even so, she didn't seem to want to establish too much dominance over you, so the kiss felt more like a constant push and pull where you both held the reins. It was perfect. Most girls were either very dominant or very passive. Yunjin was right in the middle.
You pulled her closer, one arm behind her waist. Her small breasts pressed against your chest. Yunjin lifted a thigh over yours, first just her knee, then pushing herself closer, rubbing her wet pussy against your skin. A small moan escaped you as she took your cock in her hand, pulled away from your lips to kiss your neck, and began slowly rubbing it up and down.
"Mmm, you're so hot," she whispered against your neck, before giving you a little nibble.
"You're not bad yourself," you gasped, sliding your hand from her waist to her ass to squeeze one cheek while glancing in the direction of the other girls. None of them were paying you any attention; Minjeong had gotten hold of one of her many dildos, so they were having enough fun on their own.
"Why don't we put that pretty little mouth of yours to the test, huh?" Yunjin asked close to your ear. Her hand felt so good that you were constantly throbbing inside it. "It'll be a fair exchange, since it turns out I really want to gag on that cock of yours."
"Come here, then."
You gently pushed her away and lay down along the sofa. Yunjin turned her back to you and straddled your chest, slowly moving back until her masterpiece of an ass was right in front of your face. Then, Yunjin bent forward and made a final adjustment, positioning her calves above your arms. This way, she planted her pussy right over your mouth and simultaneously took your cock into hers.
It didn't take Yunjin ten seconds before she was moaning around your shaft, almost completely buried in her mouth. You had her by the buttocks, giving them continuous squeezes as you traced up and down between her folds with your tongue. She pumped her head up and down, one hand on the head of your shaft and the other on your thigh.
More moans reached your ears, but they weren't just Yunjin's; Somi, Aeri, and Minjeong must have been having a blast, but you couldn't peek in to see what was going on. What you did know was that the loudest moans were Minjeong's, leading you to believe she was the focus of the other two's attention.
You squeezed Yunjin's buttocks tighter and took a short breath before plunging in, devouring her pussy like a hungry hyena. Yunjin whimpered with pleasure around your shaft, but she didn't let go. On the contrary, she pumped her head harder, deeper, making gag-like sounds each time she reached the bottom.
The sensation was overwhelming, as her body felt stupidly good on top of yours. You wrapped both arms around her waist in a hug that pressed her skin even closer to yours. Yunjin pulled you out of her mouth for a moment and let her moans bloom as she kissed your cock all over.
"You fucking bastard, you know how to use that fucking tongue, fuck!" she growled.
In response, you gave her a hard slap across the ass. Yunjin groaned again and took you back into her mouth, pumping frantically for a couple of seconds before pulling out and proceeding to fiercely jerk you off, her whimpers of pleasure drowning out those of the other girls.
"Keep going, baby, mmmgh!!" Yunjin squealed, her hand racing up and down your cock at a speed that made your hips twitch. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Yunjin exploded onto your mouth without warning, convulsing over you. Her ass pushed against your face, now buried between her soft buttocks. Yunjin ground against every fucking feature of your face, making sure you caught every drop of delicious juice that seeped from her folds. She muffled her moans over your cock.
"Shit, I want you inside me right now," she said seconds later, kissing the back of your shaft and your balls. Then she straightened her back and sat down fully on your face. "Can I ride you first, cutie?"
You could do nothing but nod, as your vision was obstructed, as was your mouth.
Yunjin immediately got off your face and adjusted her position over you, now facing you, her thighs on either side of your waist. Finally, you could see what was happening on the other side of the room. Somi was fucking Minjeong, legs spread, sitting on her lap, with the dildo, and at the same time, she was eating Aeri's pussy, standing in front of them, almost sitting on Somi's face.
Yunjin grabbed your chin and made you look at her.
"Hey, eyes on me, cowboy," she said, sitting right on top of your cock, pressing it between her folds. "You want to watch closely while I do this."
You stared into Yunjin's eyes as she lifted her hips, grasped your cock with one hand, and impaled herself on it. Her face twisted with pleasure, but she held your gaze as your cock slid into her silky pussy. You both let out a moan as her ass rested against your pelvis.
"Oh my god, I can't believe this," Yunjin closed her eyes, breathing deeply, one hand on your chest.
"Does it feel good?" you asked, your hands moving to her wide hips.
"Ridiculously good," Yunjin moved upward and moaned immediately. When only your tip was inside, she thrust back down. "Oh my god!"
You let Yunjin go at her own pace, one hand on her thigh and the other moving up to squeeze one of her breasts, her nipple erect between your fingers. She dedicated the first few seconds to herself, slowly riding every inch of your cock. You benefited too, because that way you felt in exquisite detail the way her silky walls caressed you from the inside.
"Fuck this is so good," Yunjin leaned forward and placed her hands on the sofa on either side of your head. She started moving faster. "Mmmgh!"
You slid your hands down to her ass, squeezed it, and helped her move faster and faster on your shaft. Her hip movements were perfect. Not as prodigious as Minjeong's, of course. But Yunjin sure knew how to shake that damn ass. You let her know that when you growled and gave her a sharp slap on the butt.
Yunjin now collapsed completely on top of you, her red hair all over your face. She cupped your cheeks and kissed you. Then, in a moment that took you completely by surprise, she started twerking on your cock. You didn't know how girls did that shit, and you never would, but damn it felt good.
"Holy fuck, you sure know how to shake that damn ass, huh?" you asked against her lips. You had her by the waist while she worked her magic on your cock.
"Does it feel good for you?" Yunjin asked back. "Because for me it feels fucking nuts."
"You don't even have to say it, fuck," you growled, and delivered another slap to her ass that made her moan just inches from your face.
Yunjin entered a kind of trance and shook her ass faster on your cock. You wrapped your arms around her, panting. You admired her beautiful face, contorted with pleasure. A minute later, Yunjin suddenly stood up, placed her hands on your abdomen, and began bouncing on your cock, her hair whipping around and covering her face.
"Oh my goddd!!" she squealed before throwing her head back.
"Are you going to cum on that fucking cock, baby?" you asked.
Yunjin nodded desperately, now leaning back, her hands on your knees, still bouncing.
"I'm going to cum on this fucking cock so fucking hard!" Yunjin squealed. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuck!!"
Yunjin's entire lower body erupted in tremors and spasms, her thighs squeezing your waist tighter. Yunjin ground her hips back and forth, savoring her orgasm in a paralyzing silence, her pussy squeezing you. Now she felt warmer inside.
Her climax took a while to dissipate, but as soon as it did, Yunjin leaned towards you and planted a kiss on your lips.
"Now fuck me from behind, handsome," she said. "Don't hold back. Pull my hair, slap my ass, treat me rough, and above all, fuck me hard. I'm fucking yours."
You were stunned for a second. You blinked a few times.
"Fuck…"
Yunjin got off you and settled on her hands and knees behind your head. You sat up and positioned yourself behind her as she spread her knees, raised her huge ass high, and propped herself up on her elbows. Yunjin tossed her red hair to one side and looked at you over her shoulder, watching intently as you placed a hand on her ass and thrust your balls deep inside her pussy.
Your suspicions were correct from the start: that woman on all fours looked ridiculously hot. You couldn't help but enjoy the view as you began pounding her pussy from behind, hard from the beginning, just as she had asked. Yunjin clutched a cushion and placed it under her head, muffling all her moans against it.
First, you left your hands on her ass, squeezing it. Then you delivered sharp slaps to each cheek, now burning hot with the marks of your five fingers. Yunjin screamed into the cushion. You then grabbed a handful of her long, red hair and pulled it back, using only that grip to thrust hard and fast in and out of her pussy.
"My god, I could fuck you like this for hours, mmgh!" you groaned.
After a minute, Yunjin came with a muffled cry, but as her body erupted in spasms and threatened to push you out, you moved forward and let her lie partially on her stomach, you still deep inside her and your grip still firm on her hair. Then you started pumping your hips up and down, fucking her prone, her ass slightly raised.
"Mmmgh you fucking!-… mmmghh!"
You dropped all your weight onto her, your chest against her back, and let go of her hair, only to grab her chin and make her look up. You fucked her like that for a few delicious seconds until she pushed her hips down onto your cock and came again, just as hard as before.
Yunjin burst into moans and you quickly kissed her, fucking her very slowly through her orgasm. Seconds later, when her orgasm subsided, you pulled away from her lips and looked into her eyes.
"Can I ask you something?" you asked.
"Hm?" Yunjin raised her eyebrows. Her expression was stupidly cute.
"Can I cum on your face?"
"Are you going to fuck it first?"
You smirked.
"That was my idea all along."
"Then do it."
Yunjin gave you a quick lick on the lips before you stood up. She got off the couch and knelt on the floor in front of you, opened her mouth, and stuck her tongue out. You guided your cock inside and patiently pushed every inch in until the tip grazed her throat. Yunjin gagged a little against your shaft, but she took it perfectly. Then you gathered all her hair into a ponytail, held it, and started pumping your hips.
"Oh my god…" you gasped, unable to believe how good it felt.
With your grip on her ponytail tight and close to her scalp, you slapped Yunjin with your cock still in her mouth and increased the pace. Pushing every inch of throbbing flesh in and out of her mouth, your tip hitting her throat. Yunjin quickly became a sloppy mess, her saliva spurting thick jets from her lower lip, your balls slapping against her chin.
You soon felt dangerously close to your climax.
Now, more than just holding her ponytail, you were using it as a handhold to push her head against your cock every time you thrust forward. Yunjin gagged louder than she had so far. Her eyes filled with tears. You rolled your eyes back, completely overwhelmed by the sensation, until you felt so close you had to pull from inside her.
"Stick your tongue out, baby," you growled, rubbing your saliva-drenched cock at full speed.
Yunjin did. You masturbated over her ruined face, letting out a groan from the back of your throat as you exploded on top of her. It.
"Fuck!!" you groaned, your jaw clenched.
Yunjin received every spurt on every corner of her face. One across her nose, another across one cheek, another another across her forehead and part of her hair Not a single patch of skin remained uncovered or partially covered with your semen. A large portion even pooled inside her mouth. The result was a perfect work of art. Perhaps your magnum opus when it came to painting facial canvases.
"Damn… I'd love to take a picture of you and hang it in my bathroom," you said, panting heavily.
"Too bad I don't have my phone nearby…"
"I have the solution!"
Somi made her grand entrance behind you seconds later. She peeked her head over your shoulder, her chin resting on it, and wrapped her arms around you. In her hand, she held a Polaroid camera.
"Can I?" Somi asked.
Yunjin simply posed. She made two peace signs with her hands and pursed her lips in a duck face. Somi took the picture. She then took the Polaroid and handed it to you. The photo had come out perfectly.
"A damn work of art," you said, showing the photo to Yunjin.
"Treasure it well," Yunjin said. "And if you leak it anywhere, I'll sue you and ruin your life."
You laughed.
"I'm not that kind of jerk, don’t worry," you said, placing the Polaroid on the sofa. "Besides, I have a lot to lose. So it wouldn't happen anyway."
"Are you two done?" Somi asked, her hands behind her back, her chest swaying from side to side. Behind her, Minjeong was fingering Aeri while Aeri was eating her out from below.
"Only for now," Yunjin said. "Are you going to come clean me up or what? You'd be returning the favor."
"Fuck, sure."
Somi knelt in front of Yunjin, wrapped her arms around her waist, and without hesitation, stuck out her tongue to lick the cum off her face. Several times their tongues met in a kiss. But Somi didn't stop until she had swallowed every last drop of cum that was on Yunjin's face.
"That's a good girl," you said from behind them.
Somi turned to face you with a small smile.
"Can we finally have some fun alone together, daddy?" she asked with a playful tone of voice.
"Sure," you looked at Yunjin. "Would you mind, darling?"
"Not at all," Yunjin stood up and gave you a little kiss on the cheek. "You still have one hole left to fuck, just so you know." "So I'll wait for you with Aeri-chan."
With that said, Yunjin walked past you and went to join the girls. Somi, impatient, stood up and threw her arms around your neck, crashing your lips together, her heavy, perfect breasts pressed against your chest. You wrapped your arms around her waist and back, feeling every fiber of her sexy, toned body beneath your hands.
You quickly led her to the sofa, laying her down lengthwise with you on top. Somi opened her legs and trapped your torso between them. You kissed her for a long time, finding her kissing strangely addictive, and then you pulled away from her lips to focus on her long neck. There you scattered wet kisses and hungry bites.
"Mmmgh, are you going to eat my pussy, daddy?" Somi asked as you moved down to her breasts to suck on her nipples and kiss every inch of her soft skin.
"Is that what you want, sweetheart?" You asked, moving now towards her abdomen, as perfect as her breasts.
"Fuck yes please!" Somi moaned, a hand in your hair. You kissed her around her navel and on her lower abdomen.
You continued your trail of kisses until you were in front of her pussy. At that point in the night, with the energy so high, you weren't in the mood for foreplay and teasing, and you were sure Somi wasn't either. So, without wasting any time, you grabbed her thighs, pulled them towards her body, and started eating her pussy.
Somi gave your hair a not-so-subtle tug, arched her back, and let out a long moan. You looked up just to admire the beautiful sight of her chest lifted, her breasts bulging. Inevitably, you moved a hand up her abdomen to grab one and squeeze it.
"Higher, daddy… lick… mmmgh fuck yes, right there!" she whimpered, giving your hair another tug to push you against her pussy.
What you noticed during those couple of minutes was that Somi was quite particular and had very specific tastes about how she liked her pussy eaten. Luckily, you were able to pick up on it quickly. She liked having attention focused solely on the upper part of her slit, not just her clit, but that whole area in general, with exclusive use of your tongue, which you frantically hit up and down.
Somi let out a squeal and closed her strong thighs on either side of your head as she came. The lock on your head felt like a fucking wrestling hold, as she used you to comfortably lift her hips and grind them against your face. She used so much force that it even made you crane your neck a little. However, you let her enjoy her orgasm however she wanted; your only job was to suck her off while she did.
Seconds later, Somi let go of your head and propped herself up on her elbows to look at you. She had picked up the bottle of lube you'd thrown away earlier.
"Is that delicious cock of yours ready to continue, daddy?" Somi asked, tilting her head. She showed you the bottle of lube. "I'd like to have it between my tits."
"Fuck, you couldn't like it more than I would," you said. "And yes, I'm pretty ready to continue."
"Alright, but important question: titjob or titfuck?"
Like asking if you preferred Mom or Dad. Shit.
"Titfuck," you replied, following your gut feeling.
"Correct answer," she said. "Giving titjobs is fucking exhausting. I'd rather leave the job to the man."
"Quite respectable," you said, rising to your knees and taking the bottle of lube from her hand. "Lie down."
Somi lay down completely and brought her breasts slightly together. You climbed on top of her, straddling her chest, uncapped the bottle of lube, and began pouring it liberally in circles over her breasts. Then you capped the bottle, tossed it aside, and proceeded to spread the lube with your hands.
"Look at those beauties, goddamn…" you murmured, squeezing her slippery, glistening breasts.
"Like them, daddy? Bring that cock over here."
Somi let you place your cock between her breasts before squeezing them together, eliciting a moan from you.
"My god…" you gasped, enjoying the sensation of having your cock nestled between that delicious meat sandwich. "I don't think I'll ever be able to thank Yeji enough for getting me into all this."
"I'm sure you won't," Somi said. "Not in three lifetimes."
She wasn't wrong, because all you could think as you started pumping your cock back and forth between her soft breasts was that your luck as a man was beyond absurd.
You let yourself go and followed your body's every command. You were slow at first, watching as her breasts engulfed your cock with every movement, your tip peeking out from the top.
"Does it feel good, daddy? Mmm?" Somi asked in a honeyed voice, then bit her lower lip.
You nodded vigorously, your hands behind your back, practically useless. Somi squeezed her breasts together tighter, pressing your shaft between them, and flicked her tongue out to lick your tip every time it peeked out. You took it as an invitation to go faster, and so you did. For the next couple of minutes, the only sounds besides the moans of the girls behind you were the wet sounds of the oil and friction, and your own moans.
You would have loved to cum again on that ridiculous pair of tits, but you still felt a bit far from your next climax, and you didn't want to spend another five minutes there, wasting energy and boring Somi. So, after a few more seconds, you pulled your cock out from between her breasts and brought it to her mouth. Somi propped herself up on her elbows and sucked you vigorously.
"Will you dick me down already?" Somi asked, giving you wet kisses on the head. "I couldn't help but watch you fuck Yunjinie. Just so you know, I expect the same treatment."
"And I expected nothing less."
You got off Somi's chest and knelt between her now wide-open legs. You wasted no time and slid your cock into her pussy with a single, smooth thrust.
Somi moaned, arched her back, and gave you a sexy smile before looking into your eyes.
"Hard, daddy," she moaned, letting you press her thighs against your abdomen. "Use me like a pathetic, cheap sex doll."
You bit your lower lip and began hammering her pussy with deep, violent thrusts that made her tits bounce as if they had a life of their own. Somi thanked you with loud whimpers, clinging to your wrists.
After a few seconds, you shifted all your weight onto your arms and fully pressed her thighs against her own body. This allowed you to thrust deeper and more comfortably, and it also made her feel tighter. But you knew you could do better, so you placed your feet on the couch on either side of her buttocks, her thighs beneath yours, and began pumping up and down, fucking her in a matting press position.
"Oh my gooood!!" Somi growled, digging her nails into your wrists.
"You like that, bitch?" you asked through gritted teeth, staring at her.
"I fucking love it!" she whimpered.
"Open your fucking mouth."
Somi, despite melting with pleasure, was a good girl and opened her mouth to let you spit in it. As soon as you did, you punctuated it with a sharp slap across her cheek that made her moan. Then you grabbed her chin tightly, forced her to look at you, and slapped her again, leaving her cheek red.
"Who's a fucking pathetic whore, hmmh?" you growled.
"I am!" Somi squealed. "Me!"
"And what fucking pathetic whore is going to cum on daddy's fucking cock?"
"ME, DADDY, ME!! MMMGHH!!"
Somi's legs trembled as if they were about to melt just before she exploded. You felt a trickle of something on your shaft, so you quickly pulled out of her pussy to let her squirt to her heart's content. You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see a stream of squirt trace a perfect arc and land on the couch.
Moments later, you were back inside her. Somi moaned and rolled her eyes back as you continued fucking her like an animal.
"And who's going to cum twice on daddy's fucking cock?"
Somi grabbed a random cushion and put it over her face to scream with pleasure against it. Then, she grabbed your wrist and put your hand on the cushion. The order was clear, so you pushed the cushion down onto her face, suffocating her. Somi's pussy clenched like a thousand demons, and she whimpered against the cushion. It wasn't long before she came again.
You withdrew from her pussy again, and again Somi let out another gush of squirt as her lower body shuddered. Weaker this time, but enough to make a mess on the pretty, previously immaculate couch. You released her from your hold, kneeling back down. Somi's legs drooped, one stretched out on the couch and the other falling off, weak.
Somi pulled the cushion from her face and threw it to the floor. Her eyes met yours.
"What… the fuck… was that," she gasped.
"Did I earn that number, maybe?" you asked.
"Fuck, I'd rather you give me yours," Somi said. "That was fucking insane."
"Remind me in the morning," you said. "I'm free tomorrow night, by the way."
"I'll keep that in mind…" Somi glanced to the side. You followed her gaze to see Yunjin eating Minjeong's pussy. At the same time, Aeri was eating Yunjin's ass from behind. "Look at that, you have the perfect opportunity."
"Aren't you coming?"
"My legs are shaking, as you can probably tell," she said. "And the alcohol in my system has me seeing stars. So I think I'll rest for now."
"Whatever you prefer, sweetheart," you said, getting up from the sofa. "Good luck sleeping in that wet hole you left, though."
"I've been in worse places. You go and fuck Uchinaga's ass."
Somi waved goodbye and lay down on her side, curling up face-first against the back of the sofa. You grabbed the lube and went to join the girls. Aeri glanced at you as you approached. Minjeong had her eyes closed, captivated by how Yunjin was eating her out.
"It's about time, you damn cheater," she said, making you burst out laughing as you stood behind her.
"Better late than never, right?" You leaned down to grab her hips and plant kisses on each buttock. "Will you forgive me, my perfect-assed Japanese girl?"
"Only if you fuck my ass right now," Aeri said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Otherwise, I'll cry and go sleep in the hallway."
"I'm on it, woman."
You grabbed the bottle of lube and went through the same routine with her as always. First, you made her ass shiny and nice and slippery, then prepared her butthole with two fingers. When she was ready, you poured a little lube on your cock and had her spread her knees slightly so you could press the tip against her ass, slowly sliding in.
The moan Aeri let out against Yunjin's pussy caught her attention, and the redhead turned over her shoulder to look at you and then at Aeri.
"Pass me the lube," Yunjin said. "Minjeong and I will be ready for you."
You handed the small bottle of lube to Yunjin, who winked at you before getting to work with Minjeong preparing their asses.
Aeri let out another moan as your cock disappeared between her round buttocks. As you gradually increased your speed, you saw Yunjin let Minjeong insert a couple of fingers into her ass, making her moan along with Aeri. By the time the sound of your pelvis slapping against her ass was filling the apartment, it was Minjeong's turn to have her ass fingered.
When you were both ready, Minjeong stood up and knelt behind you, wrapping one arm around your chest and the other around your waist, scattering sensual kisses on your neck and shoulders. Yunjin got on her hands and knees, facing Aeri, cupped her face, and kissed her, letting her moans smother against her lips.
You slapped Aeri's ass a couple of times and turned your head to kiss Minjeong, your grip tight around the Japanese woman's waist. The thrusts were quick and frenzied, using every inch of your shaft to fuck Aeri's ass. She didn't take long to reach orgasm.
"Are you going to be next, baby?" you asked against Minjeong's lips while Aeri writhed in front of you.
"And you doubt it?" Minjeong asked. "After this, you owe me another date."
"I guess I can't refuse."
You pulled out of Aeri's ass and moved Minjeong aside so you could lie on your back on the sofa. Minjeong climbed on top of you, her back to you, and you pulled her by the waist so she lay on top of you, her back against your chest. Then, you grabbed her behind her knees to bring her legs together and hold them against her body with one arm. Finally, using your free hand, you slid your cock into her ass.
Yunjin got off the sofa and went behind you to settle in and partially sit on your face, not quite lowering her ass completely but leaving her pussy at the perfect height for you to lick it effortlessly. Meanwhile, Minjeong started letting out cute little squeals as you pumped up and down, your feet planted on the sofa, wrapping her legs around your body in a sort of full nelson position.
Aeri, not wanting to be left out, got on her hands and knees and proceeded to eat Minjeong's pussy while you fucked her ass wildly and also licked Yunjin's clit. Minutes later, Minjeong came all over your cock and Yunjin came on your face.
At that moment, there was no need to say anything more, as the three of you were absorbed in a bubble of pure lust and carnal desire. Minjeong got off you, and Yunjin took her place, straddling you again, only this time she planted her feet on the sofa and guided your cock into her ass, lowering herself very slowly, inch by inch, until she reached the bottom.
Yunjin soon began squatting on your cock. Her ass felt as good as Aeri's; it slammed against your pelvis violently, so hard that it took your breath away with each thrust. Minjeong and Aeri positioned themselves over your face and leaned in for a triple kiss, which soon became a quadruple kiss when Yunjin managed to lean forward and join them while still bouncing.
A minute later, after you had devoured each other's mouths, Yunjin finally came around your cock with a squeal.
"All three of you put your asses up for me," you said, feeling close to climax, watching Yunjin's legs tremble.
Yunjin got off you and let you stand. Aeri, Minjeong, and she got on their hands and knees on the sofa, their three glistening, slippery asses raised for you. You went in order. First Aeri, then Yunjin, and then Minjeong. You fucked each ass with the same force as the last, and you spanked them all hard, leaving your handprints on their skin.
By the time you were about to cum, you didn't choose any ass in particular. You just jerked off until you exploded all over the three of them. They weren't close enough together, so, while you groaned and felt your vision blur, you moved horizontally between their asses, leaving spurts of hot cum on their skin.
In the end, each of them was well-painted and satisfied.
"I… I can't take it anymore," you said, collapsing into a chair next to Aeri. That load drained all your remaining energy, and your exhaustion was compounded by your inebriated state. "Go to sleep."
The girls didn't have much more energy than you. The most composed was Minjeong, who took it upon herself to find wet wipes so you could all clean yourselves up as best you could. She was also the one who woke Somi and sent her to sleep in Rina's room. Yunjin, on the other hand, claimed Ning's room for herself.
Which left you alone with Minjeong and Aeri.
"Well, I think he should sleep with me," Aeri commented from the other side of the sofa.
"No way!" Minjeong protested. "He knows he should sleep with me, he owes me!"
"You've spent way more days with him than I have!" Aeri retorted.
The argument dragged on for a couple more minutes, but you weren't in the mood for that crap. Besides, you knew those two girls well; whatever your decision was, one of them wasn't going to be happy. You couldn't split yourself in half. And you couldn't clone yourself either.
"I think I'll sleep out here, girls," you said.
Their argument stopped abruptly. They both looked at you.
"Are you serious?" Minjeong asked, raising her eyebrows. You just nodded.
Minjeong rolled her eyes and, like the spoiled brat she was, stormed off to her room. Aeri seemed a bit more understanding, as she came over, kissed you on the forehead, and left without a word.
You were left alone making your makeshift bed, which consisted of a simple blanket Minjeong had given you and a couple of cushions from the sofa.
You were getting ready to drift off to sleep. However, about twenty minutes later, you heard footsteps coming from the hallway. Aeri peeked out from behind the back of the sofa to check if you were asleep, wrapped only in a blanket held above her chest. When she saw you were awake, she walked around the sofa and joined you.
You let her settle in with you and covered yourselves with your blanket and hers. Aeri snuggled up to you, her back against your chest, and you wrapped her in your arms, basking in her body heat. You gave her a little kiss on the shoulder, another on the neck, and finally one on the lips before you both fell asleep there.
The next morning you woke up alone, groggy in the morning light and with a headache that felt like nails were being hammered into your head over and over again. Aeri had most likely left long before, so no one would suspect she'd slept with you and not in her own room.
Your phone wasn't nearby, so the couch was your best friend during those excruciating ten minutes when you absolutely didn't want to get up. However, summoning a good amount of willpower, you did it. You went straight to where you knew the girls kept their medicine, grabbed an ibuprofen, and washed it down with a generous amount of ice water.
After partially dealing with your discomfort, you put on your boxers and pants and set about cleaning and organizing the absolute mess you'd left last night. The hardest part was dealing with the damn fluid stains, but luckily the girls were always prepared and had specific cleaning products for those situations.
An hour and a half later, with everything organized and somewhat clean, you put on your shirt, grabbed Minjeong's keys, and went out to the nearest Starbucks to get coffee and pastries for the girls and yourself. When you returned, you found Yunjin sitting on one of the kitchen stools, her hair tied in a high bun and wearing glasses. She was playing on her phone.
"Oh, good morning," she said, seeing you come in. "What did you bring there?"
"Breakfast," you said, putting the bags on the counter in front of her. "And coffee."
"Oh my god, you're so sweet," she said, taking out a cup of coffee and sipping it. She sighed. "I've been craving this thing since I woke up. Thanks"
"Over time, one develops the instincts to take care of you idols," you said, sitting down on the stool to her left.
"You certainly took care of me last night, and very well," Yunjin said as you took out a coffee and a lemon cake. "Although I'm a little sore now, I won't lie. One of your massages wouldn't hurt."
"Well, I have the whole day off," you said. "I can help you if you'd like," you said, taking a sip of your coffee.
Yunjin sighed and took a strawberry pie out of one of the bags.
"You may be free, but I'm not," she said. "I have a meeting with the girls and some executives later."
"Why?" You asked, taking a bite of lemon pie.
"World tour. We're finalizing the details. It's a real hassle," Yunjin opened the pie tin, took a spoonful, and put it in her mouth. "You should come see us. I'm sure we can give you backstage access."
You nodded.
"I'll consider it."
"Yes, please, and you can help Zuha out while you're at it. That girl needs someone to draw her out of her shell."
"I'll tell the girls to give you my number then, okay?"
"Great!"
You and Yunjin had breakfast together. When you finished, she got up from the stool. She had already packed her things.
"Well, I have to go now, darling," she said, before leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek. "Thanks for last night and for breakfast."
"It was a pleasure, sweetheart," you said. "Good luck today. Take care."
"Thanks, baby," Yunjin walked to the door, opened it, and looked at you over her shoulder. "Hope to see you again soon, my sweet American boy."
Yunjin winked at you, blew you a kiss, and left, closing the door behind her.
The girls woke up not long after, and they all made sure to show their gratitude for what you had brought them. You spent the rest of the day with them, just hanging out and watching silly things on TV. Somi let you get to know her better, and you even got to tell her the whole story about what happened on the Aespa tour with Irene.
And of course, you exchanged numbers.
It was in the middle of an intense and heated game of Monopoly when you received an annoying call on your phone. You stopped playing immediately, as it wasn't who you expected the call to be from.
"Hello?" you answered.
"Hey, I need you to come to the offices ASAP. Don't be late," said your HYBE contact on the other end of the line.
You didn't even have time to reply before he hung up.
"Everything okay?" Aeri asked, seeing that you were a little stunned.
"I mean…" you scratched the back of your neck. "I hope so. But I have to go right now."
"That means I win!" Minjeong celebrated, clapping her hands. "Ha ha!"
"Only God knows I would have kicked your ass if I hadn't had to leave," you said, standing up. "Take care, beauties."
You blew a kiss to everyone, grabbed your things, and stormed out of the apartment toward your car.
You drove at top speed—as fast as you could without getting a ticket—toward the HYBE offices. Upon arriving at the ominous building, you entered through the underground entrance, as usual. However, the security guard, seeing who you were, denied you entry.
"Your credentials indicate you should use the main parking lot, sir," he said. "Please turn around."
You sat perplexed in your car. Outside of JYP, no one had ever shown you that kind of courtesy, and that only made it seem even stranger.
With a knot in your stomach, you reversed and left the underground parking lot. You then went to the main parking garage, where they finally let you take a designated space.
Upon getting out of the car and entering the building's ground floor, the receptionist greeted you and showed you to the 22nd floor, one you'd never been to before, and then to a spacious meeting room with an oval table in the middle and a large screen on the far wall.
You waited there for about ten minutes until your contact from HYBE entered with another man behind him.
"Kid, this is my boss," the man said.
You stood up and shook hands with the man, a man in his fifties with gray hairs showing at the sides of his head.
Without mincing words, the man, who introduced himself as Minkyuk, asked:
"What would you say if I asked you to be LESSERAFIM's manager during their world tour?"
You were stunned.
"I… uhm," you swallowed. "Well, I’m honored, sir, but I'm not sure what it entails."
"I'll fill you in on the details later, I promise," he said. "For now, I just need a yes or a no."
You took a moment and breathed deeply, not knowing how the hell to feel. It was probably the job offer of a lifetime. As you pondered it, though, you couldn't help but think about all the work Jihye had to do during the Aespa tour. Were you really ready for that? You? A masseur who, by some twist of fate, ended up where he ended up?
Screw it, you'd think about it later. You only live once.
"Then I'll say yes," you said.
The man grinned from ear to ear.
"Fantastic!" he exclaimed. "Please follow me. I'll introduce you to the girls, and then we can discuss the details."
You followed the boss down the same hallway, then turned right. He led you to what appeared to be a dance practice room. Inside were five beautiful girls, practicing choreography. Yunjin was among them. As you opened the door, he entered before you.
"Girls," he said, and waited for one of them to pause the music. He stepped aside so you could see them. Yunjin couldn’t believe her eyes. "I want to introduce you to your new manager for the tour."
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You’ve told him ‘no’ three different ways before you even get in the car.
The first is polite: soft voice, palms up, the whole ‘hey man, appreciate it but I’m good’ routine. The second is practical—readings you haven’t done, an early class you can’t skip again, and a body that reacts to alcohol like it’s a personal insult. And the third is just you finally being honest, because you’ve learned that sometimes, you have to be blunt or he’ll treat your boundaries like polite suggestions.
“I’m not drinking,” you insist, and you’re dead serious about it. “And I don’t want to go clubbing.”
Of course, your friend, Wonbin, casually smiles like you’ve said something adorable.
He’s leaning against the driver side of his car, the kind that looks like it was designed to be photographed outside of hotels. Clean lines, dark paint, the Mercedes silver arrow discreet but still loud. His shirt is black and fitted in a way that makes you suspect it’s luxury just because it refuses to wrinkle. The watch on his wrist is one of those sleek, quiet things that probably costs the same as your tuition down payment, but he wears it like it’s just what happens when you’re born into money.
He doesn’t say your name. He never does when he’s trying to win.
“You never let me do anything nice for you,” he says.
“Because your definition of ‘nice’ is—whatever this is.”
You’re gesturing at the car, the downtown skyline glowing from a distance, the way even the air here smells different already: less cheap food and exhaust, more cologne and polished stone.
Wonbin laughs, low and easy. “Okay, and how many times have I let you do nice things for me?”
“That’s not—”
“Oh, it is.” He pushes off the car and steps closer, grin turning sharp around the edges. “Thesis. Relationship advice. You literally stayed up with me until four a.m. to rewrite my methodology section because I was ‘stressed.’”
“I did not rewrite—”
“You rewrote,” he says, like it’s already settled in court. “And you did it without asking for anything. Not even a ‘buy me coffee.’ You’re allergic to being owed, which is cute, but also annoying. So. Tonight is me returning overdue favors.”
Your own outfit suddenly feels like it’s being judged by the city itself: jeans, sneakers, a shirt you got on sale because it was the cleanest thing on top of the pile, topped by a coat you typically save for campus presentations. You look like a guy who belongs in a library, or a cafeteria line, or sitting on a mono block chair outside a coffee truck scrolling on low battery.
You do not look anywhere like you belong wherever he’s taking you.
“I can’t even afford to breathe in that place,” you tell him. “Also, I’m not drinking.”
He tilts his head, eyes glittering. “Who said you have to drink?”
“You did. You literally said, ‘Let’s go get drinks.’”
“Marketing,” he corrects. “It’s called marketing. I’m selling you an experience. There will be other beverages.”
You glare at him until he sighs dramatically, like you’re the one being difficult.
“Fine,” he starts again. “Let me be honest. This is not a ‘random’ night. I’ve had this date marked for months.”
That's new. Wonbin can be impulsive at times, yes, but he’s also the type to treat his life like a calendar invite: everything curated, everything done with reason.
“You marked a club night on your calendar,” you repeat, just to make sure you've heard him correctly.
“Idol Night,” he answers, and he says it like you should already know what that is. Like it’s a national holiday.
You blink. “Idol—as in—”
“As in yes. K-pop idols.” His smile widens, pleased with himself, like the whole concept was his vision. “And before you start, no, you can’t Google it. You won’t find it. That’s the whole point.”
God, if only you can just eject yourself from his car. You could still walk away the responsible one, the boring one, the guy who goes home and washes dishes and sets alarms like life is a series of small, careful choices. Maybe you can refuse and he’d sulk for maybe an hour and then buy you something as a peace offering and you’d both pretend this never happened.
But then he reiterates, quietly: “You’ve never let me return anything.”
And you hate when he says it, because it’s true. He’s not wrong; you’ve always been the friend who helps and shrugs it off and says it’s fine, and part of you—some tiny, inconvenient part—knows that maybe letting someone do something for you isn’t a crime.
So you exhale, long and resigned to his schedule.
“Fine,” you finally concede. “But I’m leaving early.”
His beam is triumphant. “Perfect. You can leave early. After the performance.”
“You’re negotiating,” you say.
“I’m already winning,” he replies immediately, and opens the passenger door like you’re stepping into a different life for the night.
He slides into the driver’s seat like it’s home. You buckle up like you’re bracing for impact.
As you pull away from the main highway and into the downtown district, the buildings grow taller and shinier and less forgiving. Streetlights reflect off glass walls. The sidewalks are wide, clean, almost sterile—like they’re designed more for walking with purpose than lingering. You pass restaurants with menus you can’t pronounce and storefronts that display a single handbag bathed in spotlight like art pieces in a museum.
Your friend drives one-handed, relaxed. He taps the steering wheel with a ringed finger, humming along to a song you’ve put him on, one of the few things from your world he'll indulge in, and you try not to think about how easy everything looks from his point of view.
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going exactly?" you ask, knowing there's no answer waiting on the other end.
“You’ll see."
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s not supposed to be comforting,” he replies, and then, softer, like he’s letting you in on a secret: “It’s supposed to be special.”
You can't help but snort. “You sound like an ad.”
“I am an ad,” he continues. “For a lifestyle you refuse to try. Tonight, you’re my target market.”
You lean your head against the window and watch the city smear into light. Tell yourself you’ll stay for an hour. 90 minutes, tops. Sip whatever non-alcoholic thing he shoves at you, clap politely, pretend you know what to do with your hands, and then you’ll slip out before midnight, before anyone expects you to be the kind of guy who stays.
Before you start to feel like you belong.
—————
The club is nestled inside a building that doesn’t look it was designed for partying.
There’s no neon sign screaming for attention. No decadent posters. No hourlong or more queue of sweaty people in heels, rushed makeup, and tight shirts. From a distance, it’s almost anonymous: dark facade, clean edges, a discreet entrance framed by a pair of men in black suits who stand too still to be set decoration. Wonbin pulls up without slowing, and the valet steps forward like he’s been waiting specifically for this car.
He gets out first. You follow, and immediately feel underdressed in a way that’s almost physical, like your shirt is suddenly itchy and your sneakers are a joke everyone can hear.
The exchange is smooth, silent, practiced. Wonbin doesn’t even look back as he hands over the keys; he simply turns to you and says, “Don’t look terrified.”
“I’m not terrified,” you lie, feeling the pressure emanating from the guards waiting at the front door.
The reflection in the glossy black of the building’s paneling mirrors an image of a life that clearly doesn't belong anywhere near this place. Your hair looks slightly disheveled from a half-assed comb, your posture looking too careful, your whole vibe screaming tryhard who barely touches grass and takes Overwatch seriously.
Then you glance at Wonbin: perfect fit, crisp lines, hair styled like he woke up exactly like this. He doesn’t carry himself like he’s trying to impress anyone; he carries himself like he owns the world and he’s just letting himself wherever he wants.
One of the suited men nods at him. “Good evening.”
He nods back, casual, like he's greeting you. “Evening.”
There are no ID checks. No public pat-downs. It’s all quieter than that, more private. One of them glances at you, scanning—not rude, not friendly, just assessing—like you’re a piece of luggage he's brought along. Wonbin drapes an arm over your shoulders and steers you toward the entrance with the kind of possession he thinks is funny and would make others feel degraded.
“He’s with me,” he remarks, and the man immediately looks away, as if your status has been decided with his mere word.
Regardless, you step to his rhythm.
Inside, the lobby is dim and smells faintly like expensive candles and exotic perfume. And boy, do they really want to make it appear exclusive.
Floors tiled in black marble. Gold accents. A chandelier that glitters without trying too hard. The music isn’t pounding nor deafening yet like other clubs; it’s a low thrum, a steady heartbeat under the walls, as if the building is keeping its energy contained on purpose.
A woman at a podium smiles at your friend, and her smile changes when she recognizes him: wider, warmer, personal.
“Welcome back," she says.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Wonbin replies, casual.
Her eyes flick over to you, the elephant in the room. “And your guest?”
“He’s family,” he insists, and you almost choke because what the fuck—
But she just nods and grins gently, like that explains everything.
As you approach the elevator, she steps ahead of you, a hand already stretched out with expectance. “Phones, please.”
You hesitate, tugging on your slacks’ pocket.
Wonbin pulls his phone out immediately and places it in a velvet-lined tray that appears like magic on the podium. “House rules.”
The woman offers you the tray.
First you look at your half-sheathed phone, then at Wonbin. This might be your last chance to balk while you still have a pulse.
“No cameras,” he reminds you, lifting a brow. “Strictly. They’ll cover the lenses if you insist on keeping it, but it’s easier to just—comply.”
Comply. That word bothers you more than it normally does. It’s said so casually, like being told what to do is part of the luxury. Like you're about to step into a world not meant for prying or innocent eyes.
Ultimately, you concede and hand over your phone.
The woman slips both phones into slim black pouches that lock with a click you feel in your teeth. She attaches a small numbered tag to your friend’s keyring. “You’ll retrieve them when you leave.”
“See?” Wonbin mumbles as you step forward. “Undocumented. Unrecorded. No paparazzi, no leaks. Everyone here likes their privacy.”
“Or they like doing things they don’t want people to know about,” you reply.
He looks over at you, amused. “Same thing.”
An elevator waits behind another set of doors. A guard taps a keycard. The doors slide open, and you step inside with your friend and two others: a man in a suit that fits like a weapon, and a woman in a dress that looks like it was poured onto her.
Nobody makes small talk. Here, noise feels like a crime.
The elevator rises without fanfare. With each passing number on the panel, your stomach does that little drop it does when you realize you’re somewhere above your pay grade.
When the doors open again, the club unfolds like a hub for some kind of top secret gathering.
It’s not one room, but a series of spaces, each more controlled than the last. The hallway is lined with dark velvet. A lounge is lit by low amber lamps. There's a bar that gleams like a supercar showroom. In the surrounding areas, private booths are separated by sheer curtains that hide faces but not silhouettes.
And beyond it all, past another set of doors—you see the main hall.
It’s a wide, tiered space with a stage at the far end, framed by gold trim and dark screens. Lights hang overhead like suspended constellations. Tables circle the dance floor, each one stocked with bottles that probably cost more than your monthly allowance. More importantly, the people here are dressed like they’re attending a proper event and not spending a casual night out: businessmen decked out in watches that catch the light when they lift a glass, women with jewelry that sparkles like it’s breathing. Young men with perfect hair and bored expressions, rich kids close to your age with sharp smiles and soft hands, the kind who treat money like background noise. Celebrities you recognize but can’t place fast enough, their faces half-hidden in shadow, notable figures who have no business being here, whose presence is its own scandal.
You pause at the threshold because your brain is trying to process the idea that a place like this exists in the same city where you buy street food with coins and complain about traffic like it’s a personality trait.
Of course, Wonbin is familiar around these parts. He moves through the place like it’s his own living room.
A staff member approaches immediately: black uniform, earpiece, posture trained to look attentive without being intrusive.
“Table for two,” he says to the guy, and he doesn’t even have to show anything. The staff member already knows. Already gestures.
You follow, trying not to look like you’re staring at anything for longer than a few seconds.
“Can we sit somewhere—less—” you suggest, but the words gradually die in your mouth.
“Less what?” he asks.
“Less visible,” you force out, almost choking.
Wonbin laughs. “You’re adorable.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the answer."
Wonbin leads you to a table with a clear view of the stage, close enough that you could see facial expressions, but far enough that you’re not in the splash zone of attention.
You sit carefully, like the chair might charge you for being nervous. A server appears with menus that feel too heavy for what they contain. Wonbin doesn’t bother to open his.
“Whiskey,” he says, having already made his order the moment he took his first step inside. “Neat.”
You open yours, eyes skimming past prices you refuse to read fully because they’ll insult you for simply existing.
“And for you?” the server asks.
You look up, avoiding eye contact. “Um—soda?”
Wonbin's mouth twitches. The server doesn’t blink. “Certainly. Any preference?”
“Whatever’s—normal,” you answer, immediately regretting saying it because what does that even mean here.
The server nods like 'normal' is a brand. “Of course.”
When the server leaves, Wonbin leans back and stretches his arm over the back of his chair, relaxed. He looks at you like you’re tonight's entertainment.
“See? No drinking required,” he says.
“You’re drinking.”
“I’m not you,” he replies.
You glance around again. The room is full, but it doesn’t feel crowded. The sound is controlled, like the club has decided exactly how loud the world is allowed to be. Elsewhere, conversations hum. Glass clinks softly. A laugh bursts somewhere and gets swallowed by velvet.
“How many people are here?” you ask.
“Enough,” he says. “It’s curated. By invitation-only. Most of them are regulars, like me.”
“Regulars,” you echo, because the word sounds ridiculous. Like people casually do this every weekend: go to a secret club to relax and network privately while sipping alcohol that costs a month’s worth of groceries.
Your friend watches your face, amused at your disbelief. “You should’ve seen the guest list the first time I came. I thought I was hallucinating.”
“You came here before?”
He looks offended. “No shit. You think I’d bring you to something untested?”
“You test things like this?”
“I test experiences,” he corrects, like what he's doing is a respectable hobby.
Your soda arrives in a glass that makes it look like it’s trying to be taken seriously. His whiskey arrives like a quiet threat: clear, sharp, catching the light.
Wonbin raises his glass. “To favors repaid.”
You lift your soda, trying to be rude, but your words betray: “To leaving early.”
He clinks anyway. “We’ll see.”
Time slides slowly, like the night has no end. Your friend chats with people who stop by, names you don’t remember, faces you’ll never see even once on campus. They greet him with familiarity, with deference, with that subtle shift people make when they’re speaking to someone they consider important.
Nobody really looks at you for longer than a few seconds. You’re an accessory. A tag-along. The 'family friend' in sneakers.
You should be relieved.
Instead, you feel small. Not in a self-pity way. Just in a wow, this is what it feels like to be outside your lane.
"So." Wonbin leans back, spreading his arms along the top of the booth. His gaze constantly lingers on the main stage, clearly excited for what's to come. "What do you think?"
"I mean—" you pause, taking a glance up and down some curtains. They look nice and elegant, to be fair— "—it's a club, alright."
"It's the club." He gestures vaguely at the space around them. "No press, no cameras, no nothing. What happens here—" He draws a finger across his throat. "Stays in more ways than one."
"Very dramatic."
"Very true." He leans forward, lowering his cadence. "You know how many scandals have been quietly resolved in rooms like this? How many careers have been made or broken on that stage?"
You look at the stage again. Still empty. Just dark wood and the glint of spotlights waiting to ignite.
"I don't want to know."
Wonbin laughs, loud and genuine, drawing a few awkward glances from nearby tables. "That's why I like you. You're the only person I know who genuinely doesn't care about any of this."
He motions at himself, at the room, at everything. "It's refreshing. Like hanging out with a normal person."
"Gee, thanks."
"I mean it as a compliment."
The drinks arrive. Yours is soda in a glass that likely costs more than the soda five times over. Wonbin's is something amber and smoky that he swirls once before knocking back half of it.
"So." He sets the glass down. "I've had this date marked for like, four months."
You raise an eyebrow. "You mark dates?" you ask, playful, lightly ribbing at the idea.
"I mark important dates,” he emphasizes. “This one's important."
He's watching you with an expression you can't quite read—amused, yes, but something else underneath. "Like I said, tonight’s Idol Night."
You choke on your water. Still doesn’t feel like an actual believable event, at best something a promotional flyer that plays K-pop on a random Tuesday at gay clubs and cover bands perform, not some clandestine hall such as this one.
"Run that by me again?"
"Idol Night." Wonbin grins when he repeats himself. "Once a month, sometimes twice, they bring in fresh faces in K-pop. Small venue, intimate setting. No cameras, no recordings, no fansites. Just the performers and the audience."
"That's—" You're doing the math in your head, and nothing adds up. "That's not a thing. That doesn't happen."
"It happens." He flags down the server for another drink. "At least here, anyway. They've had Le sserafim, aespa, i-dle—the whole shebang—”
Your ear twitches at the very mention. Three of the biggest in the industry right now—and somehow, they’ve coerced into performing in this environment. You have so many questions. But he keeps going.
“The catch is, you have to know someone. And the groups that come through are the ones with something to prove, or something to gain, or—" he shrugs. "Connections to make. You'd be surprised what happens when the cameras are off."
You're staring at him. You know you're staring at him, but you can't stop. Because Wonbin is many things: rich, spoiled, occasionally thoughtless, but he's not a liar. And the way he's talking, the casual delivery and normalization of it all—
"You've been to one of these before."
"Couple times." He accepts his second drink, takes a sip. "Saw ITZY last year.” He drops his voice to a hush, the kind that’s sacred, telling forbidden secrets: “You know, Ryujin sat in my lap—and Yuna spread it wide after—”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
"Bullshit."
"One hundred percent fact." He's grinning now, enjoying your lack of belief. "They mingle after the performance. How long? Depends on the group, depends on the night. But yeah. It's real."
You look around the room again, seeing it differently now. The clusters of men in suits, the occasional woman whose beauty has that specific sharpness of someone who's either an idol or could be one. The way the lighting seems designed to flatter, to hide, to reveal exactly what it wants to—
"And you brought me here because—"
"Because you're my friend," Wonbin softens, just slightly. "And because I know you've never been able to get tickets to anything. Between school and work and—" He waves a hand. "Life. You're always the one helping everyone else. So yeah. I cashed in some favors. Got us in."
You don't know what to say. The glass suddenly feels colder in your grasp; the trickle of water beads down your skin might as well be sudden sweat.
"I—"
"Don't get emotional." He holds up his own hand. "Seriously, don't. I'll make fun of you forever."
Too late. There's something tight in your chest, something that might be gratitude. Having someone like Wonbin remember the poster on your bedroom wall, the albums on your shelf, the binder of photocards you pretend is just for collecting Pokémon cards—
"Which group?" you manage, and somehow, this might be your biggest regret of the lot.
Wonbin's grin turns sly. "Have a guess."
"I'm not guessing."
"Humor me."
You think about it. Le sserafim, aespa, ITZY, i-dle—all groups with the kind of reputation that makes this setting almost make sense. Groups whose concepts lean more on the mature side, whose stages push boundaries, whose fans are used to a certain level of sexuality—
But Wonbin's watching you with that look, the one that says he knows something you don't, and suddenly your brain catches up with the context clues.
"No."
"Maybe."
"No fucking shot."
"Oh, absolutely."
You're shaking your head in denial, but your heart's already racing. "IVE doesn't—they're not—their image is—"
"I know." Wonbin's practically glowing. "That's the point."
"They're the nation's sweethearts. Kids adore them. I don’t see why—"
You want to argue. List all the reasons this can't be happening, all the logical reasons IVE would never agree to perform in a setting like this, mark all the reasons you should leave right now before you see something you can't unsee.
But you don't move.
Because the poster on your wall is Wonyoung in that blue dress from that one awards show. Because your albums are all first press, still kept in their plastic sleeves. Because you've spent hours watching fancams, reading translations, falling down rabbit holes of content until three in the morning when you should have been studying.
Because you're a fan. A real one. The kind that Wonbin's making fun of but also, apparently, worth paying attention to.
Before you press him further, the lights dim.
A murmur runs through the crowd, anticipation thrumming like a second bass line. You grip your glass, knuckles white.
"Relax." Wonbin's already looking like he’s having the time of his life watching your every reaction. "It's just a show."
"Nothing about this is just anything."
He chuckles, but you're not paying attention anymore because the stage lights are coming up, soft gold bleeding into the dark, and there's movement in the wings.
Six figures. Six distinct silhouettes.
And together, they step into the light.
You've saved countless pictures. Watched hours of content. You know every angle of their faces, every variation of their stage outfits, every carefully curated moment of their public personas.
None of it prepares you for this.
Because holy fuck.
Your gaze lands on Gaeul first. Leading with that calm, gentle confidence you've admired in a hundred fancams. But the outfit—god, the outfits. Gold tops and black shorts on every member. All of them rock it like goddesses, but on her, it's something else. A cropped top that barely exists, high-waisted bottoms that somehow show more than they cover, chains draping across her stomach like jewelry you want to trace with your fingers.
Then your eyes focus on Yujin, and your breath catches because she's looking directly at the audience, that stare that's always been more challenge than invitation. Her outfit is the most elaborate, if you can call it that: more chains, more cutouts, a harness situation that frames her chest in ways that make your mouth go dry. She moves like she owns the stage, like she owns you, and the worst part is she's right.
Rei's third, all legs in something that barely qualifies as a dress, slit to the hip, glitter catching every movement. She's grinning, that impish expression that makes you forget she acts cute half the time, and now you understand why.
Wonyoung.
Jang fucking Wonyoung.Where do you even start.
She steps out and the room forgets to breathe. You included. She's always been beautiful, always been that girl, the one everyone talks about, the one whose face launched a thousand brand deals. But tonight—she’s a whole other entity.
Her outfit is the same gold and black colorway like the others, a bra top that's more structure than fabric, high-waisted bottoms with cutouts that frame her hips, her waist, that impossible hourglass silhouette she usually hides behind pant suits and elegant dresses. Her long hair is down, wavy, catching the light like spun gold. Her eyes are lined dark, smoky, the kind of look that promises things she's never been allowed to promise before.
She's not looking at the audience. She's looking through them, past them, like she's already somewhere else. Like she's already the woman she's trying to become.
You almost miss Liz because Wonyoung's presence is still processing in your brain, but she demands attention in her own way. Softer curves, sweeter face, but the rougher makeup and designer outfit doesn't lie: plunging neckline, thigh-high slits, everything designed to show exactly what they've been hiding.
Last is Leeseo, and she shouldn't be anywhere near something like this; she's young, too innocent, too pure—but there she is, gold chains crisscrossing her stomach, in shorts that barely qualify as such, and she's smiling like she knows exactly what she's doing.
The music starts.
It starts normally; it's just XOXZ. You're expecting the usual, and for the most part it is: they're hitting choreo beats like it's just another practice routine. The crowd watches in reverent silence, but a quick glance at their eyes reveal something more: controlled, intricate observation, the one reserved for judging, deep evaluation.
But after that oh-so memorable bridge, something shifts. There's a change in the instrumental, a new dance break, something you haven't seen even in concert fancams.
Gaeul hits a drop and the audience cheers. Not the typical polite applause, but something rawer, hungrier. One often heard and seen in foreign outings.
Regardless, you can't look away.
Wonyoung takes center stage and the lights seem to bend toward her, gold catching on her skin, on the glitter dusted across her collarbones, on the chains that move with every breath. She dances like no one's watching, which is insane because everyone's watching, because you're watching, because you can't not watch. Her presence naturally draws you in.
Then, she rolls her hips and your brain short-circuits.
"This is—"
You don't realize you've spoken aloud until Wonbin answers.
"Real." He's not watching the stage. He's watching you, that amused expression back in full force. "Told you."
"But they're—" You gesture helplessly at the stage, at the girls, at everything. "They're IVE."
"And now they're IVE doing something different,” he shrugs. "Labels know what sells. And what sells in rooms like this?" Another gesture at the crowd, at the men in suits and women in dresses, at the glittering wealth surrounding them. "Not cute concepts, that's for sure."
You should be bothered by what you're seeing. Hell, you probably are, somewhere underneath the sheer overwhelming what the fuck of the moment. But right now, with the bass thrumming through your chest and Wonyoung spinning into Yujin's arms, bodies pressing together in ways that would break the internet if anyone had a camera and Twitter on standby—
Right now, you're just a fan.
A fan who's never been to a concert. Never been to a fanmeet. Never been closer to his idols other than a screen and a dream.
"This—this is—"
You try again, fail again.
"My gift to you." Wonbin's answer is softer now, more genuine. "For all the times you helped me when you didn't have to. For being my friend when most people just want my wallet."
He raises his glass again. "Happy early birthday. Or something. I don’t know."
You look at him—really look at him—and for once the expensive clothes, the easy confidence, the casual wealth all seem to fade away. He's just your friend. The one who actually paid attention.
Somehow, you manage to say something. It's simple, but the most resonant.
"Thank you.”
Wonbin grins and nods along. "Don't thank me yet. Performance just started. We haven’t gotten to the best part."
Tilting his head toward the stage, Yujin's executing a move that should be illegal in at least 27 countries. "Just so you know, Yujin and Wonyoung are mine tonight."
You laugh. Actually laugh, to let something loose in your chest.
"In your dreams."
"In this club?" He raises an eyebrow. "Dreams are the bare minimum."
The music swells. The sextet hits a collective pose that makes the crowd roar. And you sit there, like the typical average college student in his best button-down, surrounded by wealth and glitter and things you never thought you'd see, watching your bias perform in an outfit that would break the internet if anyone could prove it existed.
This isn't real. This can't be real.
But Rei’s hand is on Liz’s waist, and Rei’s looking at the audience with eyes that know exactly what she's doing, and the bass is still thrumming, and your glass is sweating in your hand, and—
"Is this real?" you ask again, quieter, even though you’ve started believing.
Wonbin doesn't answer right away. He's watching the stage, something complicated in his expression. Then he looks at you, and the grin is back, but softer.
"It's real, dude. Welcome to the deep end."
You don't chance a look at him. You’re too focused on the performance to care about anything else.
The music hits another drop. They turn on their heels and pose again. Wonyoung winks—with that specific smile, the one that launched a thousand ships—and you realize you've unknowingly been smiling back, even though you’re nowhere near her line of sight.
You've seen Kitsch a hundred times. Watched the music video until the algorithm gave up suggesting anything else, studied fancams like you were preparing for an exam, memorized every angle, every expression, every carefully placed hair flip. You thought you knew it. You thought you understood what the song was, what it meant, what it could do.
When in fact, you didn't know a damn thing.
On this stage, with these lights, in these outfits, Kitsch becomes something else entirely. Something that shouldn't exist outside of private fantasies and late-night internet rabbit holes you'd never admit to.
Wonyoung hits the opening verse and the crowd feels it. Something that vibrates through the floor and up your spine and settles somewhere in your chest like a second heartbeat. She moves differently here—sharper, looser, like the constraints of broadcast regulations have been stripped away along with the layers of fabric. Her hips roll with the bass and you catch yourself holding your breath.
Beside you, Wonbin taps his glass in rhythm, entirely at ease. Comfortably settled in his element.
Told you, his expression says without speaking.
You don't acknowledge him. Your eyes are firmly glued to the stage, to Gaeul, to Yujin sliding into frame behind her, hands finding hips in a way that would send fans into cardiac arrest if anyone could capture it.
Thank God they can't. No cameras. No proof. Just this moment, this room, these people.
Just you, watching your bias wrecker emerge from the wings.
Rei takes her mark and something in your chest lurches.
She's always been the dangerous one—at least for you. The one who made you second-guess your loyalties when Wonyoung had been your bias since debut. The one whose fancams you watched for research, obviously, and then watched again because—research. The one with that smile, that cute, playful energy, that way of looking at the camera like she knows exactly what you're thinking and finds it amusing.
In person, it's worse. So much worse.
Her outfit barely qualifies as safe: gold chains crisscrossing her neck, shorts that qualify as a suggestion more than clothing, boots that lace up to her thighs and leave most of them exposed. Her hair, shoulder length, moves with the beat, catching the light, and she's grinning—that specific grin that's quintessentially Rei, the one that says she's up to something and you're going to enjoy it whether you want to or not.
The members spread out, owning the stage in ways that feel almost aggressive. Yujin drops into a move that makes several nearby guests cheer, loud and appreciative. Wonyoung follows, her expression that perfect blend of cool disdain and come-hither that's made her the center of a thousand think pieces. Even Leeseo moves with a confidence that seems impossible for someone her age, or maybe that's exactly the point.
Maybe this is what happens when the cameras are off, when the only audience is the one in front of you, when the only thing that matters is the moment itself.
You're vaguely aware of the condensation dripping onto your pants. Of Wonbin saying something you don't catch because Rei is right there, working the edge of the stage, her eyes scanning the crowd like she's looking for someone.
Like she's looking for you.
Don't be ridiculous.
But then her gaze pauses. Flickers. Lands. On you.
You freeze.
It's just a second—maybe less—but in that brief moment, something passes between you. Not recognition, because why would she recognize you—some random guy in a cheap button-down that looks out of place in a crowd of wealth and entitlement—but acknowledgment. Like she's seen you, actually seen you, in a room full of people trained to look through each other.
Before it fully registers, she moves on, and you can breathe again.
"Bro." Wonbin cuts through the fog. "Did she just—"
"No."
"I totally saw that."
"You saw nothing."
He laughs, low and knowing. "Sure, man. Whatever helps you sleep tonight."
You try to refocus on the stage, on the performance, on anything except the fact that Rei looked at you. But your heart won't cooperate, beating wildly like you've found the love of your life, and your hands feel weirdly numb, and—
The song ends. You don't remember anything in those three minutes or so other than Rei catching you and the members being sexy beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, the crowd applauds, respectful, but it feels different: warmer, more engaged. Like the atmosphere’s shifted.
The stage lights shift too, softening from the bright gold of the opening into something warmer, more intimate. The bass deepens. A new track starts, and it takes you a second to place it, not even the obvious intro with the painfully distinct sample—
The members fan out again, but this time they're not staying on stage. They're moving into the crowd.
You watch, transfixed, as Yujin approaches a table near the front. She doesn't perform so much as preside. That infectious energy fully deployed, chin lifted, eyes half-lidded as she runs a hand through her hair and lets the movement draw attention to every line of her body. The man at the table—older, silver-haired, wearing a watch that probably costs a house—smiles like he's been given a gift.
Wonyoung drifts toward another cluster of guests, and the room seems to tilt in her direction. She's all angles tonight: sharp cheekbones, sharper gaze, that impossible silhouette showcased by the cutouts in her outfit. She doesn't have to try. She just has to exist, and the effect is as impactful.
Gaeul works the opposite side of the room, more graceful and delicate than the others, her natural energy translating even in this context. Leeseo follows her lead, young but not young, if you understand—smiling, waving, letting her gaze linger just long enough to make an impression.
Liz moves with more restraint. You notice it immediately, the way she holds herself, the careful control in every gesture. She's attractive, undeniably so, but there's something disciplined about her approach. Something that says I'm here because I have to be, not because I want to be. Not coldness, exactly, not quite. More like professionalism taken to its logical extreme.
And Rei—
Rei is making her way toward your side of the room. She's just—she's working the crowd. It's not—
But she's not stopping at any of the tables she passes. Not lingering near the businessmen with their expensive watches and hungry eyes. Not even glancing at the celebrities half-cloaked in shadow.
She's coming toward you.
"Oh my God," Wonbin mutters, and he sounds genuinely shocked. "She's actually—"
"Shut up."
"You shut up. This is amazing."
You shut up. Can't move either. Can't do anything except sit there, frozen, as Rei weaves through the final few tables and comes to a stop directly in front of you.
Up close, she's—different. Not in a bad way. In a way that makes you realize how flat screens are, how impossible it is to capture the reality of a person through pixels and compression. She's smaller than you expected, more compact, but there's nothing little about her presence. She takes up space without trying, fills the air around her with something that feels almost electric.
And she's looking at you.
Again.
Still.
"Hi," she mumbles, carefully maneuvering her microphone to avoid making unnecessary noise, and she sounds exactly what you imagined in person—bright, a little mischievous, carrying that hint of playfulness that's made her your bias wrecker since day one. "Enjoying the show?"
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.
Rei's smile widens. She's close enough that you can see the glitter on her cheekbones, the individual strands of hair that have escaped whatever styling product they used, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she's genuinely amused.
"Cat got your tongue?" She tilts her head, the movement sending the gold chains shifting across her neck. "That's okay. I like shy ones."
Behind you, Wonbin makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be him choking. You can't check. Not when Naoi Rei's gaze is all over you.
She moves then—not away, but into the space between you and the table. Close enough that if you reached out, you could touch her. Close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her skin, catch the faint scent of whatever perfume they use backstage. Close enough that this is definitely, absolutely, undeniably real.
The club remix of Attitude pulses through the room, but all you can hear is your own heartbeat racing.
Rei starts to move with the music. Not the full choreography—just a sway, a roll of her hips, a slow drag of her hands down her own body that captures your eyes whether you want them drawn or not. She's performing for you. Specifically, deliberately, unmistakably for you.
"Like what you see?" she whispers, tilting her gaze over to you, and there's that grin again, the one that says she knows exactly what she's doing.
You manage a nod. Barely.
She laughs, bright and genuine, and for a moment the performance drops away and she's just Rei—the girl from the variety shows, the one who makes silly jokes, runs the Tiktok account like her own personal canvas, and gets teased by the members and can't always keep a straight face during serious moments. Then it's back, the professional effortlessly veneer sliding into place, but you saw it. You saw her.
"We have a song later," she says, leaning in slightly, close enough that you could count her eyelashes if your brain was functioning well enough for math. "Special one. Never performed before. Hope you stick around for it."
"I—"
Your voice cracks. Actually cracks, like you're fifteen again and going through puberty for the second time. "Yeah. I mean. Yes. I'll—I'm not going anywhere."
Rei's smile softens, just a fraction. "Good."
She reaches out—reaches out—and touches your shoulder. Just a brief press of fingers, light enough that you might imagine it, but you don't imagine it because you feel it, feel the contact like a brand through the fabric of your cheap button-down.
Then she's gone, gliding away to rejoin the others, and you're left staring at empty space with your heart trying to escape your chest, trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.
"Bro." Wonbin chokes in disbelief. "Bro, what the fuck."
"I don't—"
"That was—she touched you. She came all the way over here and performed just for you and then she touched you."
"I know."
"Do you realize—do you have any idea—"
"No." You cut him off, because if you have to think about what just happened, you might actually pass out. "I don't. I can't. Just—give me a second."
Wonbin laughs out loud, drawing a few stray, distracted glances from nearby tables. "Take all the time you need, man. I'm just gonna sit here and enjoy watching you have a crisis."
You don't pay attention to anything or anyone other than Rei; they're back on stage now, taking their places for the next formation, and for an incredibly brief moment she glances your way again. Just a flicker of eye contact, but she smiles.
The performance continues. You watch and observe, but you're not really there anymore, not in the way you were before.
Every movement Rei makes feels pointed. Every glance toward your section of the room feels deliberate. You know it's probably not true. She's a professional doing her job, working the crowd, giving everyone in this room what they paid for and then some.
But knowing doesn't stop you from feeling.
The next song blends into the next. You recognize fragments—bits of choreography and sections from I Am, Love Dive, After Like—but everything's rearranged, remixed, reimagined into a composite medley specifically for this space, this audience, this night. The members move through the crowd in waves; different girls approaching different tables, and you watch Liz make her way toward your side of the room with a different energy than Rei brought.
Liz's charisma is controlled, precise. Every gesture measured, every expression calibrated. She's beautiful—of course she's beautiful, they all are—but there's something almost clinical in her approach. Like she's performing a role rather than being herself. You remember reading somewhere that she's more reserved off-stage, that the other members have to draw her out of her shell.
Maybe that's what you're seeing. Perhaps the discipline is a shield.
She stops a few feet from your table, close enough to acknowledge but not enough to engage. Her eyes sweep over you and Wonbin, taking you in, quickly assessing. Then she gives a small nod—almost imperceptible—and moves on to the next table.
"Friendly," Wonbin remarks.
"She's just—that's how she is."
"You know her personally now?"
"I'm a fan. You get to know these things."
He snorts, but there's no malice behind it. "Right. Well, your girl Rei seems to have adopted you. Liz is just doing her job."
Your girl Rei. His comment lodges somewhere in your chest and refuses to leave.
The performance builds toward something. You can feel it in the way the energy shifts, the way the members start to converge back on the stage, the way the lighting deepens from bright and colorful into something darker, more intimate. The crowd feels it too; conversations trail off, glasses pause halfway to lips, every eye turns toward the stage.
The music stops.
For a moment, there's silence. Complete, absolute silence in a room full of people, which shouldn't be possible but somehow is.
Then a new track starts.
It's not like anything you've heard from them before. Heavier, darker, fusing western elements with a dirty, grungy bass line that seems to vibrate in your bones rather than your ears. Synths that build and swell and demand.
And then Leeseo's voice kicks in, and you realize—this is brand new. This is unreleased.
The crowd loses it. Not loudly; this isn't that kind of crowd. But you feel the shift, the sudden intensity of attention, the way every person in the room leans forward slightly, collectively, like they're all straining toward the stage.
Their choreography looks different. Sharper. More aggressive in a way that makes the earlier performances look almost tame. The members move like they're fighting something—or someone—bodies slicing through space with a precision that borders on violence.
The song builds to its first chorus and the bass hits, hard enough that you feel it in your teeth. The lights strobe. The members explode into quick, precise movement.
And you just sit there, average college student in his best button-down, watching your favorite group perform a song that doesn't officially exist in a club that doesn't officially exist for an audience that will never be able to prove any of it happened.
This isn't real. But it is. It's 100% real.
You know because your hands are shaking, because your heart's been racing for the last 45 minutes or so, you've stopped following, because Rei shoots a glance your way during a brief pause in the choreography and winks.
Before you can fully comprehend the song, it ends. The lights come up, soft and warm again, and the members take their positions at the front of the stage. They bow—that familiar idol bow, the one you've seen a thousand times in a thousand different contexts—and for a moment, they're just IVE again. The group you've followed for years. The girls whose content got you through late nights and stressful exams.
Their message is brief: they thank the audience for being here and enjoying themselves, tell everyone they'll be back with new music in the coming months, and to shower them with continuous love and support. It doesn't register till the very last second that the new song they performed is called Bang Bang, even though it's literally all over the damn lyrics and Yujin mentioned it herself.
"First time anywhere," she said. "Please look forward to the official release."
Then they straighten their postures, and Wonyoung waves—that specific wave, the one that makes fans lose their minds—and they start to file off stage. The main event is over.
The crowd applauds. Respectful, classy. Then the regular subdued club music kicks back in. Conversations restart. Glasses are raised.
Meanwhile, you sit there, utterly still, utterly overwhelmed by—well, everything.
"So," Wonbin cuts through the fog. "Thoughts?"
You turn to look at him. He's watching you with that expression again—amused, knowing, but underneath it something softer. Something that might be genuine happiness at your happiness.
"I—" You stop. Start again. "That was—"
"Yeah."
"I don't have words."
"Didn't think you would." He leans back, spreading his arms along the top of the booth. "But hey. At least you know it was real, right? Your girl Rei definitely noticed you."
Your girl Rei. There it is again. Somehow, you want to believe it, no matter how delusional and stupid it sounds.
"She was just—she was doing her job."
"Sure." He drawls the word, stretching it into three syllables. "That's why she came all the way across the room to perform specifically at our table. That's why she touched you. That's why she winked at you during the finale. All in the name of professionalism."
You don't have an answer for that. Because deep down, he's right, and you know he's right and you have no idea what to do with that information.
Wonbin watches you struggle for a moment, then laughs and pats you on the shoulder. "Relax, man. I'm just giving you a hard time. But seriously—that was something. Even by this club's high standards, that was something."
You nod, because you've got no words. Because it's the safest response.
People are moving between tables now, networking or whatever it is rich people do in spaces like this. A few of them, fresh faces, ones even Wonbin doesn’t know, glance your way—probably wondering who you are, how you rate, why you're here.
You don't care. Your mind is still looking at the stage, thinking about Rei, on the impossible fact that she looked at you, saw you, touched you.
"She's right, you know." Wonbin pulls you back from your haze. "About sticking around."
"What?"
"The song. The new one. She said they had a special song and hoped you'd stick around for it." He raises an eyebrow. "You stuck around. She noticed."
"I—she was just—"
"You keep saying that." He sets down his glass, turning to face you fully. "Look. I don't know what happens after these things. I've stayed for the mingling before, but I've never—I've never had one of them come to me like that. Not like that. So I'm not gonna pretend I know what it means."
You wait. There's more coming, you can feel it.
"But I do know that you deserve this." He insists, just slightly begging—like you're doing him another favor by letting him have this one night. "You spend all your time helping everyone else. School, work, me—you're always the one giving. So if tonight, for whatever reason, one of your favorite idols decided to give something back?" He shrugs. "Take it. Enjoy it. Don't overthink it."
Easy for him to say. He wasn't the one standing inches from Rei while she moved to music meant only for this room. He wasn't the one who felt her fingers on his shoulder, brief but electric.
But he's not wrong either.
"Thanks," you manage. "For bringing me. For—all of it."
Wonbin grins, the moment of sincerity passing as quickly as it came. "Don't thank me yet."
You frown. "What do you mean?"
He leans forward, eyes glittering with that look you've learned to recognize—the one that means he knows something you don't, and he's about to enjoy telling you.
"The performance," he starts, "is just the first part."
You heard him the first time; you just need confirmation.
"I already told you,” he gestures vaguely toward the back of the stage where the members disappeared. "They mingle. Meet people. It's part of the deal—why these groups do these shows. Connections. Networking. Opportunities. Aside from the huge pay, of course."
Your brain, already struggling to process the last hour or so, grinds to a complete halt.
"You're saying—"
"I'm saying they haven't even come out yet." He settles back, clearly enjoying your reaction. "The show's over. Now the real night begins."
You look toward the stage, toward the wings where IVE exited, toward the velvet-curtained area beyond that might be a green room or might be something else entirely.
The performance was one thing. Unreal, impossible, but contained. A show. Something you could watch from a distance, even when that distance shrank to mere inches.
But meeting them, talking to them, being in the same room as them, not as audience and performer, but as—
"That's the best part," Wonbin adds, carrying a weight you don't fully understand yet. "Trust me. You haven't experienced anything yet."
All around you, nightlife continues as usual; glasses clink, laughter rises and falls. Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, pretending to be a shadow of someone you're not, in a place you clearly don't belong, holding a glass that's long since gone warm, waiting for a night that apparently isn't over yet.
The members emerge from the side of the stage like they're walking into a fansign, all smiles and waves and that practiced idol grace that makes everything look effortless. Gaeul first, because she's always first, leading with that quiet confidence that's made her the group's silent anchor. Leeseo follows, bouncing slightly, unable to completely suppress her natural energy even in a room like this. Then Yujin, and you watch her shift seamlessly into leader mode: scanning the room, assessing, already calculating the best way to work this crowd.
Wonyoung glides out next, and the room seems to gravitate toward her, as always. The way light catches her features, the way she holds herself, the way her presence demands without asking—it's the kind of thing that makes you understand why she's where she is, why she's who she is.
Liz follows, more reserved, her smile polite but contained. She's scanning the place too, but differently than Yujin: less strategic, more cautious. Like she's reading the room to figure out where she fits rather than how to work it.
And then, Rei. She emerges last, and your chest does something complicated. They're still in their bold, risque stage outfits, but her features soften to the one seen in cameras and in her funny TikToks. She looks younger like this, more approachable. Like the girl from the variety shows, the one who can't always keep a straight face during games, the one whose laugh makes you laugh even when you don't know why.
But there's still that edge. That hint of mischief in the way she holds herself, the way her eyes scan the crowd like she's looking for someone.
Looking for you.
You know it's probably not true. Again, you're reminding yourself she's just doing her job, working the room, making key connections. But when her gaze finds yours across the space—across the clusters of wealthy patrons and glittering celebrities and all the people who belong here in ways you don't—and she smiles, that specific Rei smile, the one that crinkles her eyes at the corners—
"Yeah," Wonbin mutters beside you. "She's definitely not looking for you. Totally professional."
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying." He laughs, low and easy, settling deeper into the booth. "Relax. They'll get to us eventually. Gotta work the room first." He gestures vaguely at the crowd surrounding the girls. "Big fish, bigger wallets, all that. We're the dessert course."
You watch as the members fan out, each gravitating toward different groups of guests. Gaeul goes toward a table of older men—executives of some kind, you assume, given the Rolexes on their wrists and the posture and the way they receive her like she's a business proposal wrapped in grace. She handles it beautifully, all poise and polish, every gesture measured.
Leeseo bounces between tables, her natural cheerfulness persisting even in this radical, unyielding environment. She's the youngest, but she carries herself well, disarming people with that friendly smile before they can think too hard about why she's here.
Yujin works the room like she's running for office. Handshakes, eye contact, that natural presence that makes you want to believe in whatever she's selling. She pauses at a table near the center, engages in conversation that seems genuinely mutual, and you catch yourself thinking that's why she's the leader.
Wonyoung doesn't work so much as receive. People line up to her. Quite literally. You watch it happen in real time; a small queue forms as guests wait for their moment with her. She handles each interaction with that perfect blend of warmth and distance that's made her the industry's most untouchable asset.
Liz moves more cautiously, sticking to the edges, speaking briefly before moving on. She's polite, professional. But there's something held back, something reserved, and you remember reading interviews where she talked about being shy, about needing time to warm up to people.
This must be hard for her, you realize. This must cost something.
Rei works the room like she's playing a game. She spends a little longer at each table, a little more playful, a little more present. You watch her make a group of businessmen laugh at something, watch her touch a woman's arm in a gesture of genuine connection, watch her move through the space like she's known it her whole life.
But every so often, her eyes flick your way. Just a glance. Just a check. And every time, she smiles.
"She's definitely not waiting to get to us," Wonbin comments. "Totally professional interest in our table. Very business."
"Can you not?"
"Absolutely not. This is the most entertainment I've had in months."
You try to ignore him. Try to focus on anything except the slow progression of idols through the room, the way they're getting closer table by table, the way your heart rate climbs with each passing minute.
The men at the table nearest you are deep in conversation with Gaeul and Leeseo now, their usual composed demeanor cracking slightly in the presence of actual idols. One of them—silver-haired, expensively suited—actually blushes when Leeseo directs a comment his way. You file that away for later, for the part of your brain that will need proof this was real.
Then they move onto the next table. And the next.
Closer. Getting closer.
"I've got dibs," Wonbin says, not for the first time. "Yujin and Wonyoung. Don't forget."
"How could I forget? You've only mentioned it like a dozen times."
"Just making sure. You're distracted."
You are. You know you are. Because Rei is at the table directly adjacent now, close enough that you can hear the cadence of her accent, catch fragments of her conversation. She's speaking in Korean, rapid and fluid, and your brain—trained on years of content with subtitles—strains to catch words you might recognize.
She laughs at something, bright and genuine, and the sound does something to your chest.
Then the table's conversation ends. They stand, exchange pleasantries, move on.
Rei turns. Looks directly at you. Smiles. And starts walking toward your table.
"Oh shit," Wonbin mutters. "Here they come."
They, as in all six of IVE. Because Yujin's broken away from her cluster too, Wonyoung's gliding in their wake, Liz is trailing slightly behind, and somehow—by sheer universal fate—all of them are converging on your table at once.
You don't remember exactly when you stood up, but suddenly you're standing, which means you feel tall, that you're clearly visible. There's nowhere to hide even if you wanted to disappear.
You don't want to. You want to be here. You want to see this. You just didn't expect to be seen.
Rei greets you, close enough that you could reach out and touch her. She's stopped a few feet away, giving you space, but her eyes are right there, meeting yours without hesitation. "Hi again."
"Hi," you manage. The word, when it comes out, sounds strange. Distant.
"You stayed."
"I—yeah. I said I would."
Her smile widens. "You did. I remember."
Yujin steps forward, unassuming, and her presence shifts the dynamic immediately. Suddenly, she feels like the most imposing person in the room, demanding your attention but in reality, her features show warmth. Still, her eyes move at a pace that quickly assesses you from head to toe.
"So you're the one," she says, vague.
You blink. "The one?"
"The one Rei couldn't stop talking about." She throws an amused look at Rei. "Someone caught her attention tonight."
Rei's cheeks flush—actually glow, visible even in the dim lighting—and she swats at Yujin's arm. "Unnie."
"What? It's true."
You stand there, frozen, as the reality of this moment crashes over you. Yujin is teasing Rei. About you. In front of you.
Wonyoung drifts closer, elegant as always, and her presence adds another layer to the overwhelming tableau. She doesn't speak immediately; just observes, her gaze thoughtful.
Then Liz steps forward, and her expression is different from the others—more curious, more direct. She looks at you like she's trying to figure something out.
"You're a fan," she remarks. It's not a question.
"I—yeah. I am. Have been since debut."
Liz's expression softens. "It's nice to meet a real one. Here." She gestures practically at the room, at the wealth and privilege surrounding them. "It's different. Usually. Older guys and all."
You nod because it's the safest option. "I didn't know this existed. My friend—" You glance at Wonbin, who's watching with barely concealed amusement, "he brought me. Said it was a gift."
"A gift." Yujin's eyebrow lifts. The words sound odd in this environment. "Interesting choice of gift."
"Best gift I've ever gotten," you admit, and it's true, and saying it makes it somehow more real.
Rei beams at that. Actually beams, like you've said something that made her genuinely happy.
Wonyoung speaks for the first time, carrying that particular quality that makes everything she says sound important. She's looking at Rei mostly, but her eyes flick to you briefly. "He's been watching you all night. Very intently."
"Wonyoung," Rei protests, but there’s no bite.
"What? It's true. I saw."
Now you're the one blushing. You can feel it, the heat climbing your neck, settling in your cheeks. This is mortifying. This is also, somehow, the best moment of your life.
Wonbin, sensing an opportunity to make things worse, leans forward. "He's got a poster. Of you," he points at Rei. "On his wall. Right next to his bed."
"Wonbin. Are you fucking serious—" you try to speak, but the words gradually die on your mouth.
"What? It's relevant." He shrugs, grinning like this is all part of his twisted plan.
Rei's eyes go wide, then crinkle when she laughs. "A poster? Really?"
"I—it's from the Season's Greetings photobook. 2025. The limited edition, the one with the—"
You stop because you're rambling, because somehow, you're explaining your poster placement to an actual member of IVE—your goddamn bias, even—because your life has become unrecognizable in the span of a few hours.
But Rei's still smiling. Still looking at you like you're not just another stranger in a room full of them.
"That's sweet," she says. "Really. That means a lot."
Liz shifts beside her, and something in her expression changes. She's watching you with renewed interest, like you've become slightly more dimensional than before.
"You have good taste," she offers, quiet, genuine.
"Liz stole my heart too," you then say, and the words are out before you can stop, before you can filter them, before you can do anything except watch them land.
For a moment, silence again.
Then Rei laughs, absolutely delighted, and the sound breaks the tension like glass.
"Stole his heart," she repeats, eyes dancing back and forth between you and her. "Liz, did you hear that? You stole his heart."
Liz's cheeks flush pink, but she's smiling—actually smiling, that genuine one that transforms her whole face. "I didn't mean to."
"Too late," Wonbin chimes in. "He's been compromised. Both of you. He doesn't stand a chance."
Yujin snorts—actually snorts, which is so unexpected that you stare. "Your friend is funny."
"He's insufferable," you correct, but there's no heat behind it. Not when Rei is still laughing, not when Liz is smiling at you like you're not a complete stranger.
Wonyoung tilts her head, studying you with that unreadable expression. "You're different," she remarks, brushing her long hair with a hand. "From the others here."
It's not a question, but you answer anyway. "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm—" You wave at yourself, at your pants and sneakers and the shirt that suddenly feels inadequate in a dozen new ways. "This isn't my world."
"Maybe that's why."
She doesn't explain further; just lets the implication hang. They understand the situation: you're an anomaly standing in a room full of wealth and privilege, talking to IVE like they're just people, like this is normal.
None of it is. But you don't want it to end.
"We should keep moving," Yujin then says regretfully. "Other guests. You know how it is."
You nod. Of course. They have to work the room, have to make connections, have to do the thing they're here to do. You're not the only person in this space.
"I understand."
Rei's expression flickers—something passing through her eyes too fast to read. She glances at Liz, and something passes between them, some silent communication you're not meant to understand.
Then she steps closer. Close enough that you can see the individual strands of her eyelashes, the slight shimmer of residual glitter on her cheekbones, the way her lips part slightly before she speaks.
"Stay," she says, quiet, intimate, meant only for you.
You blink rapidly. "What?"
Rei leans in, close enough that her breath ghosts against your ear. "Don't leave. We'll come back. For you."
Before you can respond, before you can process, she's pulling back, smiling that playful smile, and Liz is beside her, and they're moving away, rejoining the others, disappearing into the crowd of guests who have no idea what just happened or have a clue about your conversation.
You stand there, frozen, your heart pounding once more.
"What did she say?" Wonbin snaps you back before it can fully sink in."What did she—"
"She said to stay. That they'd come back. For me."
Wonbin's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "No shit?"
"No shit."
He processes this for a moment, then grins—wide and genuine and slightly wicked. "Well, then. You heard them."
"I—what do I—"
"You stay. Obviously." He stands, patting you on the shoulder. It feels—celebratory. "I, meanwhile, have a date with Yujin and Wonyoung."
"You can't just—"
"Watch me."
And he does. Wonbin weaves through the crowd with that natural rich man swagger, and you watch as he intercepts Yujin and Wonyoung near the bar, jaws drop as they turn to him, as something passes between them that ends with all three moving toward a different part of the club.
He's really doing it. He's really—
"Still here."
You turn around, and every time you find them, it never feels real.
Rei and Liz. Both of them, standing close, close enough that you're acutely aware of the space between you.
"You stayed," says Rei, and there's something different when she talks. Softer, more direct, but anxious.
"You asked me to."
Liz steps forward. Her hand finds yours—as in, actually wraps her fingers, intertwining like it's the most natural thing in the world. Her skin feels warm, soft, real.
"We should go," she suggests quietly. "Somewhere quieter."
Your heart stops. Kicks back to life.
You should say no. Tell them watching their performance, sharing a small conversation, no matter how brief, is more than enough. You understand your place as a fan, and you'll respect their boundaries as idols. Instead, Rei's glinting eyes and Liz holding your hand just that little bit tighter tell you that the night is nowhere close to being over.
A nod of agreement, and you follow them, hand in tow as Rei leads the way.
Around you, conversations about everything and anything happen in the background; no one cares that you've essentially snuck away from the main hall and into one of many dark, sparkling hallways. The others are nowhere in sight; Yujin and Wonyoung are with Wonbin, Gaeul and Leeseo with God knows who. Rei and Liz are muttering something between themselves, muffled by the low thrumming bass pervading even in this confined space.
Eventually, they find an unoccupied room near the dead-end of the hallway. The choice is intentional; they care about privacy the most. Rei slides the door open. Liz takes you inside, and Rei shuts it behind you, turning the knob and pulling the drapes closed.
Unsurprisingly, the lounge is lavish: a large, half-crescent couch circles half the room dominates the rear. A television with a panel containing several buttons below sits on the leftmost side of the room and a bathroom adjacent to the right. An ice bucket stacked with a bottle of champagne and wine glasses sits at the center table, ready for immediate consumption, and at the side, a mini fridge with extra beverages awaits for those seeking seconds.
You're overwhelmed by the luxury of it all that you don't realize Liz has disappeared from view, having let go of your hand. Turning around, the two women are standing mere inches from you, their eyes gleaming under the pale white light.
"I feel like we owe you an explanation," Rei starts. She sounds nervous and shy, nothing like the quirky idol you were talking to minutes ago.
"Yeah," Liz adds, matching her tone, though she’d been acting the part the whole time. "We thought—we should at least be honest about—all this. About what's happening."
Nothing seems to register. Just more questions run through your head. You dare not to speak.
"So—about that friend of yours—" says, slowly twiddling her fingers, "Wonbin, was it—"
"Yeah?" you interrupt before she can finish. Somehow, they know his name. It probably spreads around these circles fast, to be fair. People who likely pay specifically to meet these idols—and considering he's with Yujin and Wonyoung right now—
"He paid us."
Her answer catches you off guard. No preamble, just an immediate revelation. One you should have expected given the circumstances, but it doesn't shock you any less.
"Huh?"
"To bring you here, specifically." Liz then speaks on her member's behalf. "To spend time with you. Alone."
"We didn't know where else to start," Rei continues. "If you were a fan or not. Or if you'd recognize us."
"Which, you did," Liz clarifies. "Like, a lot. I saw the guests' expressions when we went over to you."
"You're a big deal, apparently," Rei quips, but it comes out half-hearted. "I thought he was joking."
You're still speechless.
"It's not our fault," says Rei. "I didn't think he was serious when he said he's bringing a fan tonight."
"Well, not really. No." Liz continues. "We're sorry. Really."
"Sorry, yeah," Rei adds. "We're truly sorry. Wonbin just told us to entertain you. And that's what we are doing right now."
"But, it wasn't fake. Everything," says Liz. "It was real. All of it. I promise."
"Promise."
Of course it's probably real to them. Wonbin's probably paying them by the hour—who knows at this point. Easier to maintain a lie than to continue with the truth, like applying a bandaid to a wound.
"I—" you start, but nothing follows. Your gaze tilts upward, at the pervading light, before falling back to theirs. Somehow, it feels sincere, genuine, everything they’ve said. They're looking at each other, expressions pained at having to pull the carpet so abruptly. "I—I understand."
The shift is instantaneous; one second they're genuine, remorseful human beings fully aware of what they've done, the next, the idol masks slip back on naturally, like it's deeply embedded in their skin. They're stepping towards you, forward for each instinctual foot you put backward till you feel the couch brush against your legs. Regardless, the regret lingers on their twitching, trembling lips.
"When we said it was real, we really meant it," Rei starts again, her eyes wide, trying to act playful, but she stops almost immediately. "Again—there are no fans in this place. Just—eyes. And bodies."
"Yeah," Liz quietly adds, carefully twiddling her fingers together, avoiding your gaze, deliberate as if you're judging how they move. "It's—not as fun as it looks. But—seeing you—reacting to us—actually enjoying yourself—" She inhales, "Wonbin was really right. He promised he'd bring us a fan, and here you are."
And Christ, they just know how to get through your heart.
Not that it's already so susceptible after everything that's unfolded—it doesn't matter anymore if this is still part of their rehearsed script or something they'd been told, like cameras are recording this very interaction right now and they have earpieces feeding them instructions in real time, it sounds heartbreakingly sincere that you can't help but forgive.
"I—I could never get mad—" you say, shaky, low sounding, because quite frankly, you can never get upset at your bias line, even if they were trying to purposefully anger you: "I'm just—shocked. At everything. That's all. He really had this all planned out—"
"Heard he paid the club and the agency triple the talent fee specifically to get us," Rei interrupts, chuckling, her usual cheeky self returning. "Didn't realize till a week ago when he personally went to us. At the goddamn company."
"He was determined," Liz adds. "Or, rather, desperate. Said it was a special occasion and wanted to do it for a friend. Never said anything about who it was for, but thank God it was you."
"Oh, come on," Rei cuts in, rolling her eyes, but there's no malice in her tone. Only light jest. "You were thinking the same thing."
"Maybe," Liz concedes, her lips curling into a sly smile. "It's rare, though. Fans are usually—boring. Closed-minded."
"God, yes," Rei sighs. "Thank goodness the actual fans aren't here. They'd hate this. This isn't—like us. If you know what I mean."
"Anyway," Liz then insists, "I'm glad we got to know you. The real you, hopefully."
"So—what happens now?" you then ask, tilting your head, all that buzz and shock starting to die out.
"It's—up to you," answers Liz, stepping ahead of her older member. "You can walk away now. Walk past that door and call it right then and there. At least we explained ourselves, and you saw us perform, which is what you wanted."
"And at least you were happy," Rei adds. "Right?"
"Of course," you reply, finally realizing the rather cornered position these two women have you in. You inch away from the couch, but they pin you at an angle where either girl can grab you the moment you reach for the door. "Always—it's been a dream to see you live and up close—but I never expected—"
"I don't blame you," Rei interrupts, smiling, her gaze shifting with that half-teasing grin that's just—ugh. "Anyone in your shoes would be overwhelmed that we could be that hot."
"But—if you want to stay," Liz hesitantly says, her eyes darting to Rei, before settling back to you. "Please stay."
"After all," Rei continues. "We promised him to give you a memorable experience."
"And you deserve it," Liz adds, gaining some of her member's confidence. "For being such a good fan—and a good person, I guess."
Somehow, even in a tension-filled situation like this, she manages to make you burst into laughter. Rei too.
"Jiwonnie, can you not—"
"Hey." She turns to meet her member halfway, cheekily grinning. "Maybe this is still a little too much—"
They've merged onto you, now mere inches away. You can feel their breaths on your skin, their collective gaze paralyzing, magnetic, demanding your every fiber of attention. Never have you been pinned like this—and rather than fighting or trying to resist, you allow it.
Let their presence utterly consume you. After all, that's what you deserve. Rei and Liz said it themselves.
And finally, the cherry on top: the subtle grip on your pants, on your clothed crotch—two hands, one from each member, measuring, pressing tightly on your hardening cock, only kept in check by the slacks you're wearing. Eying you head to toe, they find your buttons and zipper even in deep fabric, slowly parting them, till they can feel your staining precum through the underwear.
"So—what's it gonna be?" Rei questions, even though your mind has already decided on your behalf.
Slowly and subtly, the two girls lead you back against the couch. This time, you're freely falling back into it, completely under their spell. And your body just—surrenders.
Their response is short and sweet: "Good answer."
Rei and Liz leave you slumped on the lavish couch. Your pants partly halfway now down your legs, your body powerless and losing its will to fight completely. All you can do is watch them walk—fucking hell, they can strut—toward the TV and control center in the corner of the room, still performing, still on their A-game, like they're standing in front of thousands and not just for you.
Yet no amount of professionalism and idol training can cover their lack of knowledge with how the private VIP lounge works.
It's calm and quiet at first; just minor delays, something they can seemingly figure it out within a minute, maybe less than. Then Rei's visibly struggling with the buttons on the board, echoing out her frustration at having to pry and read the instruction manual from the cabinet below. Liz tries to help through it, but she's as equally clueless as to how anything works.
"Jeez—you'd think they'd let us inside this place during rehearsals—" Rei mutters, but Liz rubs a hand on her member's back, gently reassuring.
"C'mon, at least don't do it front of our good friend here—"
Immediately after, Liz turns her head toward you, smiling, raising the other hand. Just give us a moment.
No words need to be said, and you'd happily wait the whole night too.
The lights inside the lounge change colors, from a simple sparkly white to a disco flurry of blue and green, before shifting to a clean gold, reminiscent of the stages they performed earlier.
"Perfect!" Rei yells out, as if she had just discovered fire. She presses a button, and music begins to reverberate on the speakers hidden in the four corners of the room.
It's that remix of Attitude from earlier; that dancey, club remix that's unassuming enough to avoid suspicion. The two take positions parallel from each other on opposing ends of the room, and much like in concert fancams you've seen online, they walk toward each other during the instrumental break, their struts seductive and deliberate. As they unite at the center, where your gaze solely fixes on them, moving like a coordinated unit, they strike a pose.
Fuck. You can barely contain yourself on that couch. If you weren't already hard before, you certainly are now.
These are no longer idols, rather bodies now. Their collective gaze keeps you focused on their eyes—four piercing, daring eyes—but as you wander down, the real treat comes from their sultry, inviting gestures.
Rei's sweeping both her hands down her ass, arching her back to accentuate her figure, barely kept together by those cheeky shorts. Liz winks directly at you. Brushes her hair with a flick of her hand, biting her lower lip, shimmies her shoulder for a little move, absolutely confident in herself. Two completely different women, both equally hot, equally arousing. During the pause where they should be walking back to the main stage, of which there is none, they meet halfway, passing an unspoken message—
And then Liz slaps Rei's ass.
Lets one hand rest on her shorts. Rei smirks as she feels the impact. Closes her eyes, lets her friend and member tease for a bit. She angles herself that her back is facing you while Liz does the unthinkable: she undoes the zipper and slides it down. Rei finishes the job, letting it pool around her boots and revealing the matching gold underwear beneath.
She arches her back once more. Spreads it wide with her hands as the music fades in the background, becoming more like white noise at this point. Her ass is plump and firm; waist slender, the proportions just right. And her thighs are thick and meaty, perfect for squeezing and grabbing.
Liz grabs Rei's underwear, stretching it to the side, showing you her pussy, completely and utterly soaked.
"See how wet I am? I bet you just wanna touch it yourself right now, don't you?" Rei asks, but you're rendered speechless by what's unfolding. This is straight up pornography.
Liz grins. Strokes the side of Rei's leg, running her fingers up and down her pale, creamy skin. She takes a sampler of Rei's slick and puts it into her mouth.
Then Rei suddenly kisses her.
At this point, the two have stopped performing and are simply fucking right in front of you. Cupping each other's cheeks and all. You can see Rei reaching around the back of Liz's top, hustling for her zipper. She finds it and likewise, slides it down, giving you a glimpse of the expanse of her skin. Rei pushes it partly off her body, with Liz tossing it aside to be forgotten, now down to her black bra and matching skirt.
It's the hottest thing you've ever seen. As much as you want to get involved, you enjoy watching this.
Just as they're about to dive back into each other, Rei stops herself. She looks left and right, noting the music, remembering your presence: "Alright, this is kinda distracting."
You badly want to quip and say it's their song. Liz laughs and shakes her head.
"At least you know how to turn it off," she quips, but Rei shoots her this playful scowl that makes it worse.
She breaks free from the embrace and promptly turns it off within seconds. Turning her focus on you, Rei strides forward.
"Sorry we didn't push through with it," she remarks, smiling, but the tone is partially apologetic. "Can you imagine fucking to your own song?"
"I was about to say—" you start, your first words in a while, but she presses a finger on your lips when she climbs your lap, overpowering you, laying you down on the couch. It might as well be a bed by how wide it is. And maybe that's the point: this is where nights really and truly end.
With Rei's hand pressed on your clothed chest, Liz joins her on the couch, but not atop you. You've kicked your shoes aside at some point during their little tease, but Rei's finishing the job. Unbuttoning and parting the shirt, pants that were halfway down your legs now puddle at your ankles, along with your boxers. Your fully erect cock is now at their mercy, and they're wasting no time.
"Shit—oh fuck—" you shudder, groaning as Rei's fingers seize your cock, stroking it gently at a feverishly slow, but deliberate pace.
"You're pretty big, aren't you?" she remarks, smiling. Sweet but devilish. "Are you sure you can handle the both of us?"
"Please. He can't," Liz teases, sitting next to your thigh, her arm draped on the headrest.
"Give him a chance. We haven't even started."
"Well, you're the one who's touching him, so—"
"Okay, fine."
Rei's had her fill of stroking your cock. Now, her fingers are lightly dancing on your shaft, teasing, stealing that little bit of precum that would make Liz jealous. She leans down, hovering above your ear, her warm breath tantalizing. "Aren't you a lucky one, huh? Now you get to choose."
"Choose? But—"
Another delicate squeeze from Rei's fingers when you try to speak up. An involuntary groan escapes your mouth again. She brushes the precum on your skin, lets Liz eat from her digit, then caresses her hair with it.
It's gross; it's also hot.
"You heard me. You get one," she repeats, as if that makes it any better. You're staring at the ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts and ignore the stimulation.
"This is a test, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Sorta. Not really. Maybe?" Rei's trademark grin feels like an insult now. "I mean—I don't think you can handle both of us."
"Oh, come on. Don't sell him short, Rei," Liz suggests. "He can handle us. Can't you, baby?"
"I can," you insist, showing a little fight.
"I love that enthusiasm. But—enthusiasm can only get you so far," says Rei. "So you gotta choose."
"But, I can't choose," you continue, feeling Rei's grip tighten, but not painfully so. More like a challenge.
"You have to," Rei reiterates, her tone sterner yet playful.
"What if—what if I want the both of you?" you're pleading now, knowing damn well this opportunity won't present itself ever again.
"Hmmm—let's ask the other girl, shall we?"
Rei turns her gaze to Liz. They share a knowing smirk.
"I'm not sure. I don't think you can't handle the both of us," Liz responds, rubbing a hand on your thigh, making you tremble.
"Not even for a second?" you insist.
"Nope. No exceptions," says Rei, firm and final. “So you have to choose."
"But I haven't done—"
Another firm clasp of your cock, another pump through Rei's deft hand. She's leaving you gasping, reeling. The world suddenly feels like it's spinning on its head.
"Maybe we should pick for you," Rei suggests, and she's released your cock in place of the gold top she's wearing.
Quickly unhooking the clasp from her back and letting the zipper fly, she lets the piece of clothing free from her body, revealing—nothing. Casually tosses it aside to the floor, her tits are fully out: shapely, lush, and as big as some of those fansites and suspect fancams have captured. Liz, feeling touchy-feely, gives one of her breasts a firm squeeze, and Rei smiles at her, warm and genuine.
You can only imagine what they are like behind closed doors, but this is as close as you can get to finding out.
As much as you want to touch them, to know how they feel in your hand, you don't. Not even move a single muscle, especially when they have you pinned like this.
"How bad do you want it?" Rei asks. Liz is still feeling her.
You shake your head, too lost for words.
"Jiwonnie, your turn."
Rei turns to Liz, the two sharing grins back as she, in turn, unclasps her own bra, revealing her own shapely chest. She then squeezes Liz's breasts right in front of you, equally affectionate. They even exchange kisses while they're at it.
For a moment, you're nothing. A ghost.
But they're not stopping: Rei hops off you and the couch, Liz in tow, as she gets the younger member's skirt undone, digging her nails into her black underwear as she slides it down, leaving obvious nail marks and red spots on her skin. Ruffling each other's hair, making out without a care in the world, lost in their own little reverie while you just lay there and watch.
It almost feels too intrusive. (It is.)
Mid-kiss, Liz breaks. Rests her lips on top of Rei's. Tilting her head, her gaze flickers over to you, and she remembers you exist.
"Rei," she mutters, looking at her. "Still here—"
"Huh?" Rei has forgotten you completely. It takes Liz pointing you at her for her to realize. And when she realizes, she genuinely has no fucking clue.
"Oh, shit—sorry, babe." She's blushing, cheeks flustered all over in red. "We got carried away, didn't we?"
You lift an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, kinda."
"We're not used to having an audience—at all."
"The members don't hear you?" you joke. "In that dorm?"
"Let's not ruin the illusion, okay?" Rei interjects, patting Liz's arms, redirecting her member's gaze to her.
"Right."
"Besides, I thought you wanted the both of us."
The two women turn their attention back to you. Their gazes are otherworldly; one moment they look sweet, picture perfect, a frame worthy of cameras and adoring fans. The next: sultry, sensual, lethal. "So—have you—"
"Yes," you reply, not needing to finish the question.
Rei and Liz saunter back to the couch, taking their places on your lap and between your legs, respectively.
Propping you against the back of the cushions, sitting you upright, their laughs hauntingly fill the space between you and them. Then, the hands come back to claim their stake: one from each idol, stroking your cock, sometimes intertwining fingers, padding their digits with more of your precum. Your helpless, low groans complement their satisfied, playful giggles.
"Feels good to play with an actual cock for once." Rei gives your shaft a light, playful slap, like messing with a guitar. Enough to knock the little wind off your sails. "God, I wasn't ready to waste a second dildo in a month—"
"Shhh." Liz makes the silence gesture, smiling gently at Rei. "He doesn't need to know that."
Rei dips her head down as she tilts you forward. Your face melts against her firm, heavenly chest. Squeezing them comes naturally; they feel warm and handful, molded like they were meant for you. Her cute little moans fill the air, undeniably stimulated and aroused. Meanwhile, Liz has taken a seat next to you, brushing the skin of your shoulder blades, slowly, softly, like a feather.
"How do they feel?" she palms the back of your scalp, driving you in further.
Somehow, you manage to utter a single word against her suffocating skin: "Good."
"That's not a proper answer, You can do better than that."
"Great."
"Still not enough."
"They're the best—Rei—"
"Mhm. There we go."
She's grinding on you now, eyes fluttering shut, chest heaving, hips rolling up and down your skin in a slow, decadent rhythm that makes you wish she was actually bouncing on your cock than merely teasing. But it doesn't matter; not when you have your hands all over tits, pinching her nipples, sucking, indulging in them.
"Fuck," is all that escapes Rei's mouth as her grip on your skull loosens. Liz observes intently, biting her lip, resting her head on her chin, like she were studying and not preparing to take you next. Your face is burning red all over; whether from the heat of Rei's chest or from the sudden wash of embarrassment of being watched like this, you have no clue. The only solace is knowing that you're here, exactly where they want you to be.
Before it even registers, your hands fall on Rei's waist, gently lifting her rather feathery figure into the air and slamming it against your cock. The world stops when she cries out in pleasure.
"Oh fuck!"
She pushes your face away from her chest. Looks down at being embedded to the hilt. You and Rei's breaths come in quick, tense gasps. Liz lifts her head, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. For a moment, there's a danger that a line has been crossed, a boundary overstepped.
Then Rei forces you back into her chest and starts riding you again.
"C'mon. You want it that fucking bad? Give me all of it."
And you do exactly that: meet her halfway with each thrust, firmly grip her tits and consume them like you've found an oasis in the desert. Rei drowns in it—the kisses, the satisfied hums rippling through her chest, the way your cock fills her tight, wet cunt with each stroke—every little thing doing its part to make the feeling so otherworldly.
Right now, it's just two bodies coming together naturally, like pieces in a puzzle.
"Fuck, Rei—" you mutter against her tits, not stopping to breathe, not that you had any intention to. "I've wanted this—wanted you so fucking bad—"
She's too engrossed in pleasure to hear a thing; the sensations overwhelm her left and right, taking control of her body, moving of its own accord. Her words, when they come, they're from another place: "So good—you fill me so fucking well—"
And the pleas come naturally too. 'Harder' and 'more' and 'right there—'
You're kissing up her collarbone, letting Rei's warmth utterly swallow you whole. Guided only by instinct and the cadence of wet skin slapping against wet skin, you find Liz lost in her own pleasure too: she's sitting on the couch from a distance, two fingers pressed against her cunt, rubbing in quick, hurried strokes, equally as aroused, if not more.
Maybe this is what they were referring to: that they haven't had anything but dildos and each other for a while, they've forgotten what real cock feels like.
Or maybe they're just horny. Definitely that.
Your bodies cling to each other like oxygen. Any sense of rhythm has been lost in favor of raw, primal instinct. Just fucking go. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Whether it be your own thrusts or her crashing into you, not giving the other any respite. A fire burns in your souls that can't be quenched or satiated.
"Shit—you're gonna make me cum—" Rei mutters, her nails digging into your scalp one more, tilting your head upwards. Her collarbones and neck are marked red, fresh with bite marks and wet kisses of your own.
It only serves to fan the flames even wider.
"Do it," you command, growling, squeezing her tits as hard as you can, pointed with an edge you didn't know you had. "Make a fucking mess, baby."
You drive the point home with thrusts that are equally demanding and aching, forcing every last bit of resolve into her needy, quivering cunt. Each stroke is a punctuation, a statement, a declaration of utter want.
"Fuck—fuck—I'm gonna cum—I'm gonna cum—"
Rei's thighs clamp around your waist. Her fingernails dig deeper, and her pussy tightens around your cock, her walls closing in, drawing every last inch of your shaft.
"Cum for him, Rei." Liz stirs from a distance; she's merely a few feet away and it carries over through the wind. "Make him feel it."
Her command is what ultimately upends her: this cheeky little character, now drowning in a puddle of her own slick, cumming, screaming out in ecstasy as her orgasm hits like lightning. Her body trembles violently, eyes rolling into the back of her head.
As the high fades, so does her sharp cry, going hoarse and weak. But the euphoria doesn't stop.
You keep her in the air, suspended, filled with cock, still, and let her ride it out.
"Fuck, look at her." Liz appears awestruck at her friend's orgasm, slowing her strokes down. "Look how much she's cumming."
Rei's mind is gone. Her pussy is dripping all over, coating your cock in a thick layer of her nectar.
And it doesn't take long for you to follow.
Still pumping into her, far beyond your own control at this point, when she's a melting pile of flesh, you let it all go: thick and hot and unforgiving when it happens. Every drop poured into her needy cunt, staining the leathers and making deep marks on your skin that will stick for more than just one night.
"Oh God—so much—you came so much—"
"Yeah, give her that," Liz coos, distant but alluring. "She deserves it."
When the final drops are spent, you let Rei collapse onto the sofa. A thin connection of cum, thin and fragile, stretches as you pull out till it splits apart and dissolves onto the sofa. And the moment her bare, sweat-licked skin touches the cushion, she's out like a light.
"Is she alright?" you ask, dumbfounded, panting, trying to catch your breath.
"That's normal," Liz reassures you, standing up and sauntering over to your side. "Tends to happen after a nice orgasm. I know. I've seen it plenty."
"Doesn't sound normal," you quip, lightly smiling back.
"She'll be fine," she insists, cupping your face. "But right now, it's my turn."
Liz pulls you in for a kiss. It's soft and gentle and caring, nothing like the rough, primal energy that drove Rei's desire.
"Fuck—seeing you take her like that—" she mutters against your breath, "I want it too. But—"
Her hand snakes down to your withered cock, pumping slowly, gently, trying to breathe new life onto it. Nothing. Just a tired, exhausted groan from a man who's seen too much, felt too much, knows too much in a single night.
She tries laughing it off. "Ah. Right."
There it is: her trademark sense of humor. The way she casually jokes no matter the situation, how it's not far off from how she presents herself in vlogs, on camera, with the other members. Another sign that this is real. This is actually them.
"See something you like?" she then asks—and where do you even start.
Her smooth, toned legs. The way she slowly spreads them to reveal the dripping, wet pussy beneath. That hourglass physique. Smooth, toned abs that she barely shows, but Christ—you just want to dip your head and bury yourself in her warmth, her creamy, pristine skin.
"I'll let you choose. So long as you put that dick in me after."
Deal of the fucking year.
You push Liz forward, off the couch and softly come together on the glass table. Her back arches, body naturally sliding forward as you splay her like she's the most expensive piece of art in the world. Shoving aside the slowly melting, trickling bucket of ice and champagne that's been mostly forgotten up until this point, you go down and just—worship her.
She hums, satisfied, low, the occasional moan spliced in between, that it might as well be music. You're kissing from her neck and collarbones, soft and airy, creating little shudders coursing through her lithe frame. Down to her tits, giving them a handful, feeling how perfect they fit in your palm, how surprisingly shapely they are, when you consider Rei's just right there, unconscious, blissfully unaware.
Leaving a trail of tender, delicate marks when you reach her tummy, looking up occasionally to see the relaxed, gratified look on her beautiful face. Eyes fluttered shut, the way her breaths came in slow and steady, picture-perfect—just how you've always imagined.
And when you finally spread her inner thighs ever so slightly wide, giving yourself a clear view of how unabashedly, shamelessly wet she is—fuck. She might be more depraved than Rei.
You take your tongue. Drag it slow, up and down her slit—and Liz fucking keens.
"Ah—shit—don't tease—"
"No promises," you tell her, the sound muffled with her cunt, and you keep going.
From the way her thighs tremble, her hands scrambling to grab a hold of something, anything, her body writhing, her moans, her sighs, her everything. The way she moves, the way her voice cracks every other groan. How she bites her lip, holding her breath, then exhaling, letting the tension flow out.
How her hips roll and grind, urging you to go faster.
"Fucking eat me out, baby," she demands, her fingers curling around your hair, tugging you closer, if that even's possible. "Don't fucking tease."
And you oblige.
You flatten your tongue, pressing it flat against her folds, and lick. Wet, sticky, messy.
Liz absolutely loses it.
Her grip tightens on your hair, her body shudders violently, and the scream is enough to be heard outside.
"Fuck!"
Your mouth is coated in her juices, the taste lingering and sticking, but you can't get enough. It just—sucks you in, like she was meant to be consumed.
So you dive back in, and Liz is left to her own devices.
"Fuck—baby—yeah, right there, fuck," she whines, her breathing hitching, her body unable to contain itself.
The noises. The way she sounds. It's driving you crazy too.
"Goddamn, baby, you're so good," she whimpers, her words becoming incoherent, the pleasure building and building.
"Are you gonna cum?" you hum against her skin, a momentary pause, and the sight is glorious. Liz is an utter mess, her body trembling and shaking, her lower half completely soaked, her stomach glistening under the warm light.
"Please—not yet—I want to be—fucked—fuck—"
But you don't hear. Not really. Not when she's so ready, so wet, and tastes so good on your lips.
So you continue to devour her cunt, splayed and wet and constantly dripping, , as if it were the only thing capable of quenching your insatiable thirst. Even as she continues to beg, her thighs betray her, closing in naturally on your head as you eat her out.
For a moment, it seems like you won't stop.
Then you just—do.
One last kiss for her pussy, leaking on the marble table, pooling around her legs, and you watch: how exhausted and frantic she looks, how easily she folds. Her hands cling to her chest, her breaths coming in heavy, and she writhes on her side, the sensations unbearable, the pleasure overwhelming.
"Why'd you stop—"
"You said you didn't want to cum yet," you answer, casually, rolling her onto her stomach.
She laughs lightly. It ripples through her body in small, visible shockwaves. "And what if I wanted to cum right then and there?"
"No you didn't," you tell her, laying her prone, raising her lower half. Her back arches naturally, pressing her ass forward against your loins, like she knows what's about to happen.
"Glad I didn't miss this," Rei suddenly whispers against your back, and it surprises you; you look over your shoulder out of instinct. You'd forgotten that she was unconscious. "Jiwonnie, you're still so fucking loud."
"Told you she'd be okay," Liz mutters from up ahead, airy, still clearly in need of air, disregarding her member's little jab. Even through her long hair, she manages to find you over her shoulder. "Now fuck me. Let her watch."
"That's right. Fuck her like you fucked me," Rei adds, seductive, tilted up, meeting your gaze. She's got her nails dug deep into your skin, like she's puppeteering you. "Make her scream."
As if you needed any more reasons to be hard again.
You slide a hand down—or up—Liz's waist, the other with your hard cock, lined against her aching core. She trembles at just the touch—vivid, violent, ready. Rei's touching up your hair, your scalp, leaving small kisses on your back and skin. All three of you, somehow pressed together on an expensive table—and it isn't even remotely close to shattering. But you've seen stranger things happen tonight alone.
And you thrust into her without hesitation.
"Oh fuck!"
As expected, she cries out in pleasure and pain, enough to split your eardrums had you been a few inches closer.
Slamming into the depth of her cunt, how incredible does she feel—how effortlessly it slips into her heat after being so wet, so needy, that it feels like coming home. You let yourself bask in the pleasure of filling her for a moment, relish the sensation of her walls flexing and pulsing against your cock. Your head tilted back, eyes closed, taking in slow, deep breaths, ignoring the nails clawing at your back and on your neck, slowly wrapping around you like a vice.
You can't help but mutter it over and over like a prayer. Till your own voice cracks. "So tight—so fucking tight—"
"What are you waiting for," Rei murmurs against your ear, her arms wrapped around your shoulders, her breasts pressed deep against your back, her entire weight leaning on you. "Fuck her. Hard."
"Yes," Liz gasps, her body jolting and twitching with each word. "Hard. Please."
You pull out, almost all the way, till only the tip is left, and slam back into her.
"Holy shit," she whines, and her voice is broken, desperate, needy. "You feel so big—I can't—"
You can't see her face, but her expressions are probably priceless. Then again, the way your cock disappears and reappears in her cunt, with each thrust coating you in fresh waves of slick, is more than enough.
"Again," Rei commands, and you repeat the process, pulling out, and slamming back into her, quick, rough, that makes the table shake and the glasses rattle.
You have both hands on Liz's waist, her back in full view, her head bowed. She's taking every inch without complaint, without resistance—and you settle at a pace that's just right. Not too rough to have her gripping the table, have her screaming from the top of her lungs, but not slow that it feels unsatisfactory, that demands faster. The steady rhythm of wet skin slapping against skin guides every thrust, fading naturally into the background along with the club music from the outside—an indicator that the party is livening up.
"Tell us how much you love his cock, Jiwonnie," Rei teases.
"Rei, please," Liz sighs, a weak attempt at protest.
"Come on, Jiwon-ah," Rei coaxes, sweet and honeyed, her lips soft and warm. The gentle pecks she leaves on your shoulder, on the crook of your neck, are so comforting. "Just say it."
"It's big. So fucking big—" she answers, her words turning into a high-pitched squeal the next, her body shuddering. "And it fills me so good—fuck—right there, please, right there—ugh—"
Just like that, her plea just activates you. Your primal instincts naturally take over.
The pace you've meticulously been carrying—it starts out a few thrusts quicker, something she should be used to. Then all of a sudden, you have one hand yanking her long, luscious locks, tilting her gaze up, wishing there was a mirror large enough to reflect just how pornographic and sinful this is. Liz is back to screaming now, every word uttered a demand, another button pulled on the trigger.
"More—please—right there—that's it—harder—"
You're not sure in which order she says it, or how many times she begs, but you do exactly that. Each stroke deep, buried to the hilt, till she's on her fours now instead of ass up and lain prone on the table. And no matter how seemingly violent it gets, no matter how much the table rattles and shakes, it doesn't veer to the point of falling apart. It's almost as if it's trying to test you—to see how far you'll go, what limits can be pushed.
"Yes—fuck—you're fucking her so well—" Rei mutters against your skin, looking small behind your back, but her eyes linger on her friend and member getting used like this. "God, I can honestly cum just watching you—"
But you don't really pay attention. Your focus narrows on Liz, the way her body rocks with each pump, how it kindly responds, how her cries go back and forth between stable and cracked.
"Please—I'm so close—" Liz whines, shuddering as you drill into her again and again. The table is puddled with her slick now, reaching your knees, spilling onto the carpet below.
"Go on, then." Rei peeks her head out from behind you, like she'd been waiting for this very moment. "Cum for him. Make sure he gets every drop."
"He's going to break me—he's so deep—he's going to break me—"
"Almost there," you groan, and you have her by the neck, holding her up, her back arching further, her tits bouncing. "I'm going to fill you up."
"Yes, please," she moans, her voice breaking. "Fill me up, please."
It's a race to the top—or bottom—and it's neck and neck.
A handful of frenzied thrusts, a few strokes, a few moments where the world goes still, and you can't hold back anymore. You're still wearing the ache from Rei, and it's come back to haunt you now.
"Gonna cum again," you growl, and the sensation is overwhelming, a tidal wave crashing into a dam.
"Yes, yes, yes," Liz chants, her tone a staccato, her body shaking. "Fill me, fill me, fill me, please."
Right as you're about to finally come undone—
"Cumming—oh God—" she cries out, and that's the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.
Your mind goes blank; nothing registers for a few precious moments. You don't know who went first: you or Liz. What does matter, when you regain cognizance, is that it feels hot and heavy. And so, so satisfying.
You see this: your cock, deep inside Liz's needy womb, throbbing relentlessly, her cunt milking you for all your worth. In return, torrents of her nectar flood your shaft, the table somehow still holding the world and everything that's on it (you three), her body violently trembling through your collective climaxes. Even still, you don't stop, at least not right away—you're still pumping into her, riding out what little semblance of control you have left, letting her drain you till your very last drop.
And then you finally stop. Your body finally concedes. Again. The table stops rattling too.
Gripping onto Liz's waist like she's your only lifeline, like she's oxygen, buried deep to the hilt, when you pull away, it stings. It aches. It cries out like it doesn't want to leave, but you have to. And when you do, her pussy's dripping, gushing in your cum. And it's a beautiful sight.
"Holy shit," is all Rei can say, sliding off your back and onto the crescent-shaped couch.
"God—it's so deep—" Liz whimpers out, low, her mouth hanging wide, "So full—so, so much—"
You wonder if she'll just collapse right then and there, the same way Rei has. She remains on her fours, not moving, just breathing, her pussy still leaking with your cum, trying to let everything sink in. Maybe this is the breaking point, where the table finally gives up. You're afraid if you move away, it'll collapse like it was supposed to.
But no. Nothing happens. You cross a nonexistent bridge back to the couch and join Rei, and Liz is just—there. Stuck on the table, frozen in time like a statue, like an art piece. A messy, sticky masterpiece.
"Isn't she perfect?" Rei remarks, now lain back with a leg raised. She sounds so casual about it.
"Mm," is the only sound you manage. The answer is deliberately vague. Your head is spinning, your body is in shambles, and you don't know what's gonna happen now.
Then Liz begins to move. Slowly but surely, she turns around, still on her fours, and crawls over to the couch. When she no longer feels the weight of glass underneath her, she finally slumps on the cushions—and exhales.
"This—tonight—has been—a lot."
There are no better words to describe what has transpired. A simple night out with a friend, a favor to repay, ends with you and two of your favorite idols hidden away in some expensive private lounge, doing unspeakable deeds. Actions that would ruin both you and their lives should word wind up even in questionable—not just wrong—hands.
And the thing is: the night is still young.
So when Rei pushes you onto your back, laying you back on the couch, and Liz, who you thought should be a goner at this point, are now atop of you, sharing a look and then smiling gently at you, you know you're still very much getting started.
—————
The end comes like any other thing too good to be true: a mere phone call, an insistent buzz that shatters an otherwise peaceful room.
All three of you are lying on the floor. Rei to your left and Liz on your right, a perfect body sandwich, flailing your hands, lazily reaching for the source. Rei fishes it out of a pocket miraculously, none of you know whose clothes belong to who (other than yours—you left your phone at the entrance). The number is familiar to everyone.
"Wonbin," she mutters as the screen brightly flashes against her eyes. "Think this is yours," she adds before handing it over to you.
So you answer the call. Of course it's him.
"Hello." It comes out hoarse, raw, like you'd been stretched for hours—which you were.
"Yeah, we gotta go now," he says from the other side of the line. "Turns out dad got the family a flight in 4 hours so we gotta bail. Sorry to ruin—um—whatever you had going on."
And all you can think in the moment is: God, Wonbin is the fucking worst. You can't even have this.
"Yeah. I'll see you in five," you manage to utter, even with your disappointment.
They don't say a word, don't question your abrupt departure; they've heard the call. From the star, they knew this was only temporary, merely their part of the agreement, a deal. But you wish they genuinely felt something.
Because you did.
Even as you rush to dress up, they just stay there. Sat on the floor, watching you pick up the pieces, returning to a life that they have a part in, but will never really see.
Maybe they won't ever see you again.
So as you give them one final look as you ready yourself to walk out the door, they give you a simple pair of smiles. Picture-perfect, public-ready, trained smiles. Liz even goes as far as to raise a hand to wave goodbye. But breaking through that veneer, there's a tiny flicker, a dash of sincerity that makes you believe that there's something more.
And for you, that's more than enough.
—————
The ride home is quiet. Awkwardly, eerily quiet.
Wonbin’s taken up the other backseat. A driver, one of the family butlers, has been sent to pick you both up. He left his car back at the valet, he said, that another servant will take it back later, since he's needed at home immediately.
You're both staring out the windows, watching the city quietly pass you by. Neither of you dare to glance at the other. Questions will be raised. About what happened in those rooms. About what you did with Rei and Liz. About what he did with Yujin and Wonyoung.
But you're pretty sure you already know. He does. Both of you. It's all over your faces. Flushed, bright red with embarrassment. The silence in the car says it all.
All you can think about is how it ended—not the phone call, but the last thing they did before your bodies finally gave out for good: Rei and Liz taking turns with your cock in their mouths while you laid back and watched them share it between themselves, until you came a few more times and they painted their faces with your cum and made a scene out of it.
The rest is a blur you can't fully remember; only flashes and images: more of them sucking your cock, except you're on two feet, somehow, with your hands tangled with their hair. Pouring the champagne and whiskey on their bodies for you to lick off, Rei getting your cock between her tits, Liz riding your face while Rei is riding your cock again and they were making out on top of you—
"Dude." Wonbin's finger snaps you out of your daze, finally breaking the tension. "Talk to me. What was it like?"
You stare at him like he's a stranger for a few moments. A minute, even. "What is even there to talk about?"
"You know." He gestures at nothing, referring to the nightclub, the girls, everything.
There are so many things to say. Many different answers. You could say it's the best night you've ever had. That he's the bestest friend that anyone could ever ask for. That he's the greatest person in the whole goddamn world.
Instead, you say, "It was a gift. One I will always appreciate."
Wonbin seems satisfied with the answer, nodding. "Well, I'm glad. This is probably the only time I'll get to do something like this."
"Something like what?"
"I mean, you know—actually do something nice. For a friend."
He's smiling—not mischievous, not teasing, but genuinely, truly smiling. Like he's actually done something meaningful in his life for once. Maybe this is what you truly owe him: a reason to care, evidence to show that he does, actually, mean something to someone.
The anger you felt when you left is gone. All is well.
"You're not gonna tell me what happened, are you?" he then asks.
"Of course not. Why? Are you?"
Wonbin breaks into that playful grin. His eyes light up at the question. "Of course! Remember when I said Yujin and Wonyoung were mine—"
You smile. That's all you can really do.
(Until the car stops at your apartment five minutes later while he's barely getting started and he vows to finish the story when he gets back from Switzerland after his car begins moving away again.)
—————
(A/N: holyshit im sorry this took for-fucking-ever
but yes. your boy is working an internship that has effectively drained this man's soul. 7-5 weekday shifts for only $1.80 a day is no fuckin joke man. all that just to graduate. we're almost there. the only respite i have is that the ive concert is only a few weeks away as of writing. and these gold and black fucking outfits man. all of them look so fucking insane its actually driving me crazy. i've had this on my mind for a bit, and i wasn't gonna do annyeongz justice, but couplez were just as hot in these fits. i cannot wait to see these up close in person, especially the attitude dance break that inspired this fic, shit's gonna be crazy. this extended break was the only way i was gonna somehow finish the fic and just in time for the show as well. but at the same time, i need money in some shape or form because lord knows finding a job in the big 2026 is damn near impossible. anyway, here's hoping the next fic will drop sooner than later. 5th anniversary is upon us, and i have a lot of things to get off my chest. to better days ahead. thank you for reading!)
Because if not, you’ll fall into another spiral that makes you want to recover all the photos you deleted from your gallery and strum the songs that remind you of her. Little things you keep away from you in fear that you’ll start hoping again, because hope is fucking useless and you’ve seen how this played out before.
But this is how fate shows it: you and Hanni meet again at a crappy airport in the middle of nowhere, and to your irritation, she still has the supernatural pull that makes a flickering customs light cinematic.
And she’s not even dolled up. No makeup on her face, no contacts—just a pair of glasses and the lipbalm she swears by. God, she’s in a fucking mom cardigan and she still looks strikingly beautiful. Her eyes find yours before you can find an exit and it’s over.
“Oh,” she says, brows raised in surprise. She clearly didn’t expect to see you here. Well, she certainly didn’t expect to see you ever again.
And to be honest, neither did you. A girl like Hanni belongs on a stage, adored by millions, not here.
But things happen. Life happens and lawsuits break bonds apart and the media likes to say shit. That’s just the way things go.
She deserves better. But you deserve better, too, so you should really just go and pretend you didn’t see her.
“Hi,” you say. There’s crowds pushing past you, security guards from all stops eyeing you snarkily for standing in the flow of passengers, but you stay still. You can’t move. You can’t speak. You just want to ask her:
“Are you okay?”
Hanni blinks at you from behind those cherry red specs. Seeing her without all the highlighter cleverly placed on her face, without the lighting of a photoshoot makes you realize how she’s still young even with everything that’s happening. Years have passed and court trials have been delayed but she’s the same, little Pham Ngoc Han you vowed to protect.
She smiles. “No,” she says, “but that doesn’t matter. Let’s get a drink.’’
-
Let’s face it: you are devastatingly in love with Hanni Pham.
So by now, you’ve learned to see the telltale signs that point to whatever stirs in her soul. A smile that melts up into her eyes when she’s happy, the cold shoulder when she’s mad (and it’s so out of place because you can hand Hanni a microphone and she wouldn’t stop talking into it until the power goes out), and the blank look in her almond eyes when she’s sad. You thought this would change considering you haven’t caught up with her in a while, but don’t you get it? Hanni is a constant factor in your life. She’s everywhere—on your screen, in your bed, on stage. She’s sort of like the sun, see here; you wake up everyday with the knowledge that it’ll still be there in the sky above, shining brightly.
“Oh, and I forgot to ask—what brings you here?’’ Hanni claims she doesn’t want to get drunk—got in trouble for that before, she says, and you decide it’s wise to not tell her that you know. You’ve seen it blown out of proportion in K-pop tabloids and the details of the photos down to the pixel of her fingertip analyzed to death. You allow her some secrecy. God knows you’ve kept things from her, too. Thus, you agree to just one casual martini over scones.
“I’m visiting my family for Easter,” you reply. It’s, what, a few thousand for a flight to your province and twenty for the guy who still watches your hometown car. A concrete jungle can be suffocating sometimes.
But hey, it brought you Hanni.
“I thought you said you don’t pray anymore.”
Hanni remembers correctly, as usual. The curious jut of her bottom lip guilts you. “Kind of, yeah. Sometimes prayers go unanswered, and sometimes I feel like I’m let down.”
It feels blasphemous to say it on Black Saturday. But you feel that honesty with a bit of repentance was fine with the Lord. You prayed a thousand times that you’d see Hanni again. You prayed a million times that the judges in charge of her trials would see reason—recognize the fact that they were five young girls in a nightmarish position. The night sky provided no hopeful answer.
But that’s the thing with culture, you know. You have a rosary on your rearview mirror and a cross necklace close to your heart. You stick by it because that’s just who you are. Moving to a big city doesn’t change that you’re your mother’s son.
“What about you?” you ask her. “I’ve only seen tidbits of where you are on Threads. Facebook, if I’m lucky.”
Hanni snorts unprettily, covering her mouth with her hand. “God, you’re old. You use Facebook?”
“Just to keep in contact with my parents,” you defend yourself, and add to your losing argument with “and the occasional birthday reminders!” to make Hanni laugh harder. You’ve always loved her laugh. (Okay, yes, of course you do; you’re in love with her)—but she just makes it look so charming with her nose wrinkling up and the biggest cackle unexpectedly drawing out of her small body. She makes you want to laugh, too. So you join in happily, relishing the tinkle of laughter you haven’t heard from her in so long and letting her slap your shoulder.
You wish you could freeze time. You wish she could stay happy forever and protect her from the world that moves too cunningly. You wish you could stay in this airport forever with her and have the smiles frozen on your not-quite-young-but-not-quite-mature-yet faces. You can live off the self-proclaimed Italian pizza down the hall and get drunk off soda and ridiculously expensive liquor. You can find something to wear in the high-end fashion houses near the waiting areas that nobody seriously buys from anyway. You wish you could just stay here.
But that’s not how things work. Life happens and time flies by and Hanni says she’s going to meet a guy she’s been talking to who’s apparently really interesting and sweet.
The smile disappears from your face.
“A guy?” you ask.
Hanni gives you a weird look. “Yeah. Did you expect it to be a girl?”
“No— not that I’d mind because I’m not against it or like homophobic— but—”
“But what?” Hanni’s cheeks are red. She’s waiting for you to spit it out or she’ll make you. People underestimate what she’s capable of. She’s starting to think you’re one of them, and oh, does it break her heart.
“But why?”
It just doesn’t make sense. It has been a while, but surely it hasn’t been that long. You’ll willingly take accountability for not texting her as long as she’ll admit you weren’t in her thoughts at all when the group took flight. And even with that aside, there was still something between you. The glint in her eyes as she thanks the people behind the scenes who supported her from trainee days to debut can’t be a reflection of the stage light. The years you spent giggling under covers, texting until dawn, and sharing boba straws can’t be all for nothing.
Hanni looks so offended she might just punch you. She leans forward to make sure she’s hearing you correctly, the kitten heel of her shoe hanging from the stool. “‘But why?’”
You draw yourself up. “Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying and hope you make sense?”
“I don’t know. Am I?”
The reunion was going so well. It was running smoothly in spite of the distance you know you had until the topic of a mystery boy came up. Fucking immature shits, the two of you. You ruined it. No, wait a minute, she ruined it. It might be Easter in a few hours but you don’t think you can muster forgiving her.
And what did she do wrong? She’s Hanni Pham. Her name is a stand-in word for attractive. It’s not her fault that people like her. But you’re so upset that you want to ask for another shot. Then another. Then another and another until security announces your lifetime ban from this airport.
“Hanni,” you say, realizing this is the first time her name has made a crisp syllable in your mouth and now it tastes bitter, “that is such a dumb fucking decision and you know it.”
She can be very scary for a girl barely five-three. “Give me one reason why I should even listen to you.”
You don’t mean for your laugh to sound so condescending. You’ve never once talked to her like this. You knew better. “Fine. In fact, I’ll give you three.”
Hanni raises a brow while you raise a middle finger to start the list. It’s so absurd you want to crawl out of your own body and lie in a slump. Allow the doctors to trouble themselves at how gorged out you look. Let the records show that your burst heart only ever beat for her. The irony and cheesiness but the awfully true pain of it all sticks to your words. “First of all, you have a life-ruining lawsuit at your heels. It’ll leave you shit-poor in the streets eating ice cubes for dinner. It’s incredibly stupid to use whatever money you have left for a flight. In this airport of all places, too. Even the local airline charges less. Second of all, you have to focus on gathering papers and evidence because you know damn well that company has every court in Korea under their paycheck. They’re a billion-dollar conglomercy—”
“Conglomerate.”
“Whatever the fuck they are, I don’t care. It’s the same goddamn thing. God, I hate English. The point is they’re worth a billion dollars, you think they can’t bribe some corrupt senior citizen to ruin your life? You have to have a mountain of evidence even they can’t deny. And third—”
Your knuckles pale at the edge of the bar. Your voice cracks. The airport is the only place you can drink at midnight and can’t be judged for it or anything for that matter but you feel fucking stupid and humiliated and a worthless piece of shit anyway.
“A guy,” you murmur. “Hanni, really?”
Hanni goes radio silent for a while. You guess she’s used to that: not saying anything for years until Holy Week rush hours bump you into each other. You’ve got a lot of nerve, she thinks, to ruin a perfectly good thing. Each word is a bullet ridden through her already tired body.
She raises a shaking hand to pull her glasses off. The bridge drags down a single tear.
“You think I don’t know that?” she asks quietly. “They don’t care if Hyein’s barely eighteen or if Dani’s mum is alright. They’re heartless.”
She wonders if you think she’s gone dull. Do you still remember the books she likes to read? There’s a journal tucked in her luggage somewhere with an entry that illustrates these exact worries.
Hanni’s voice sounds choked up. It sounds faraway, in the depths of a well, from miles a way, behind a screen. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve love. I’m fucking miserable here. It’s Easter and… and you’re making it sound like it’s my fault that I want to spend it with someone who cares.”
You feel yourself tearing up, too. What was wrong with you? She doesn’t need the reminder that she’s in a tough position. You were both young and hurt. You can’t take it out on each other.
“How long have you known him anyway?” you ask even if you shouldn’t, bitterly. “I don’t think the bastard has any idea what to make of himself.”
“It’s nothing serious. We’ve been chatting for a month. He knows who I am and he doesn’t care because he wants me to be happy.”
I want you to be happy, too. Bite your tongue so it doesn’t come out. Hanni must’ve sensed what you were planning to say because she grips her shotglass tighter.
“You never texted or called. Hell, I would’ve taken a fucking email.” She sniffles and shields her sore eyes behind her wrists. “You’ve been back in my life for less than three hours and you’re already making me cry. Is this why we broke up? Maybe. I don’t remember. I don’t want to.”
She cries quietly against the table. You sit there speechless, knowing you broke her heart as revenge for her breaking yours and realizing it wasn’t worth it. You’re selfish. You always have been. Everyone was right about you.
“I’m sorry, Hanni,” you murmur. It isn’t enough, but for now, it will do.
Hanni’s too kind, really. She reaches over to your tense hand. “It’s alright.” (It’s not.) “I’m fine.” (She’s not.) “I guess I should apologize, too. I wasn’t exactly good at the whole love stuff in the past.”
(You had a beautiful, young thing together—you made a lot of mistakes, but that was all in the past. Nobody exactly handed out a manual on how to love someone perfectly, without a single instance of upsetting them or hurting them.
So, she was wrong. Hanni was good. She was so, so good.)
“You could always try again.”
Hanni’s sentimental smile can never not get to you. She’s so beautiful you doubt she has a full idea of how enchanting she is.
“I can start right now.”
-
You give up the seats to your flight for an unfair price. Legally, you’d say you should have been compensated for more since it’s their fault they overbooked seats to the point of a crash risk. They’re grounds for a lawsuit. But it’ll have to do. It’s perfect, actually. A good deal pales in comparison to having Hanni on your side again.
She wears a face mask she snatched from the airport first aid team to hide her identity. She holds your hand in the taxi to the cheapest inn you could find and kisses you before you could even get the key inside the knob.
You let her. She deserves all the love anyone has to offer her and more. You lay her on the white sheets and, as you gaze at her beautiful bare face and body, realize you would give the world to her in its entirety. All its kingdoms, all its glory.
But Hanni doesn’t need that. Those are meaningless promises and they belong to someone else. All that she needs is for you to kiss her again and do that thing with your fingers she likes.
So you do. Your middle finger strokes over her swollen clit and she gasps into the kiss. Has she any idea how sweet she sounds? She places her hand on your cheek to kiss you deeper, tongue against tongue, nose to nose.
“You’re so fucking good at that,” she says breathily. Her head throws back into the pillows as your fingers enter her. The wetness is unimaginable. The dark lamplight blooms over the sight of her toned midriff, straining and flexing to meet your thrusts. Her walls cling to your digits desperately.
You start to think if anyone’s had her like this when things were tough between you. Her hips must have been flush against someone else’s hand, her hair a storm of black on someone else’s bed—maybe would’ve been with whoever the man courting her was. Fucking prick. But it’s foolish to let your mind wander. You literally have the Hanni Pham quivering under your touch, moaning like this and gasping like that. You have to put all of your focus on her.
And you don’t care about him, or the imaginary lover she had the other summer. She’s got you now.
You bite gently into her neck as you stroke your fingers faster. Hanni holds onto your forearm, breaths shaky but a sign to keep the pressure right there. She always whimpers before she cums. It’s cute enough to make you kiss her forehead, provocative enough to get you to take her there.
And as expected, Hanni cums on your fingers. Her nipples poke against your wandering touch. The said little whimpers she lets out break into a scream. You’ll get a noise complaint from the owner tomorrow. You’ll deal with it. He has to understand you’re making love to the girl you love to make up for all the love that was far but not lost.
“Pretty,” you tell her. Her hair smells like vanilla.
Hanni curls her grip into the collar of your polo. She bites into your bottom lip; she missed this too much. “Inside me. Now.”
She sounds dangerously sexy outside of the studio and in this bed, whispering that you fuck her or she’ll lose it. Every part of her is begging for it.
You don’t make her beg for it. Your belt flies across the room and onto the wooden floor. You’re rock hard from how pent up she made you. She’s more than willing to fix that.
You line up your cock with her leaking slit. She groans when your tip bumps between her lips. The mess from her previous orgasm is a pool between her legs.
You’ll figure out how to get the stain out of the blanket tomorrow. Give Hanni what she wants and craves. You enter her swiftly, driving her up the headboard. The second thrust knocks more air out of her. Her mouth drops while her eyes connect with yours.
“Oh. Oh fuck!” Hanni’s pussy just closes around you tighter. The claps of your flesh against hers echo in the small room. It’s so easy to give her what she wants. The familiarity of her perfect, soft body helps. But there’s also the fact that you know her so well—beyond all the easy facts, you know she likes it fast, when you stroke upwards instead of mindlessly riding her.
You reacquaint yourself with her heat. Reach the perfect spot in the depths of her cunt. Hanni cries out, and this time, she holds onto the bed for leverage to meet your thrusts halfway.
Her boobs bounce with the impact of every jerk you make into her. Her pretty nipple ends up between your lips. Goosebumps appear all over her chest. You suck teasingly, almost gentle which is laughable when you compare to how hard you’re pounding her. You make her impossibly tight pussy remember your girth, stretching her out like you used to. She makes it so easy for you, really. Her juices lubricate your length and allow a deliciously wet welcome, one after the other.
Hanni’s sultry whines ring in your ears. “Shit, fuck, fuck!” Her face squeezes up into a look of pure bliss.
She blanks out. She doesn’t even hear herself scream when you fuck her into her peak. Between clenched teeth, you moan at how much tighter she feels around you. The hot throb of her pussy makes you spurt into her womb without meaning to. It would’ve been an unpleasant accident. But Hanni wraps you into her arms and doesn’t let you go. Short, impulsive thrusts end in warm cum deep in her womb.
The sensitivity from her second orgasm causes her to shake as you thrash against her. Even as you finally go soft, your bodies stay attached to one another. You hear every delicate moan next to your ear. It’s a song she’ll only let you hear alone.
Your hearts beat as one, a mad, thumping rhythm against your chests. There’s a lazy, tender smile on Hanni’s plump lips. It drains every fear you had about starting again.
-
The world you wake up to is new. You panic when the first few seconds of consciousness come in. But when you finally remember, the chipped yellow paint on the walls and the heels on the floor don’t look so frightening at all.
When has the clock ever ticked this loudly? Rub the sleep out of your eyes. It reads five in the morning. It’s barely dawn, though—little rays of sunlight could hardly peek from the eastern mountains.
And of course, she’s here. It’s strange. You woke up unfamiliar with the inn at first, but knowing she’d be here for you. She’s sort of like the sun. You don’t see her at the doorway immediately yet you know she’s always with you.
Hanni’s in a fluffy bath robe with a mug of warm coffee in her palms. “Good morning. How’s your head?”
You lift your shoulders. “Could be better.”
“I saw a little bunny in the garden earlier. Right on Easter, too. Ya think it’s a good sign?”
She turns her gaze to the porch. Over the beach, turquoise waves wash away the troubles in the sand. She’s smiling. The headache starts to heal itself, like all things do.
Underneath the highly varnished Walnut desk, Shin Ryujin released your cock with a loud pop. Several strings of saliva connected you and her. She used her index finger, twirling the string and giggling as it disconnected. Sticking her tongue out, she used it to dig inside your foreskin, earning herself loud moans of pleasure from you.
“That feels so good, baby.”
“I know it does, daddy. You love when I clean your foreskin while sucking your cock.” Ryujin proudly states. “As much as I’d love to give you the longest blowjob ever, we really do need to hurry. My flight leaves in three hours.”
“Why am I getting a new secretary anyways? I have you.”
“I told you, daddy.” Ryujin says as she licks the tip of your cock and slightly digs on your slit. “The shareholders want Yeji unnie and I on location for the opening of our second branch.”
“But, babe…”
“It’s only six weeks, daddy. You’ll survive without me.”
“Well yeah, but-”
“Don’t worry about a thing, daddy. You’ll love the new secretary, I personally selected her.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Ryujin’s grip around your cock tightened, causing you to throb in between her fingers.
“What does that mean?” She said, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh come on, baby. You weren’t exactly prime secretary material when you first started.”
“You mean, before we started having sex?”
You opened your mouth slightly, but closed it, unable to refute her statement. Ryujin shook her head slightly, kissed the tip of your cock and resumed moving her hand up and down.
“There’s nothing to worry about, babe.” Ryujin said, bringing your hand with her own towards the left side of her head. The two of you locked eyes, smiling at each other.
“Have I ever told you I love you?”
“Every single day.” Ryujin smiled.
“I love you too, daddy.”
True to Ryujin’s words, she was able to make you cum - in less than 8 minutes. You pushed her head down, allowing her to drain your balls one final time. She cleaned you off with her mouth, polishing your shaft until you could almost see your own reflection on it.
Adjusting yourselves, you grabbed her wrist slightly and turned her around, pulling her in for a hug before planting a kiss on her lips. She smiled, returning the kiss and giving you several more before she regretfully disconnected, informing you she couldn’t stay any longer. Several I love you’s and one hard smack to her butt, Ryujin left your office with a soft click of the door.
-
Another soft ding - this time, the elevator. Heels click through the marble tiled flooring. Heads peer over desks as everyone turns to look at the source of the noise. A small group of four people follow behind until they research an open conference room. There, you have your sleeves rolled up, looking at papers and explaining something to the woman sitting next to you. Looking up, you were blown away by what you saw.
Dressed in a matching brown blazer and skirt was the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.
“Sir, this is your new secretary, Miss Shin Yuna.”
She places a hand at her chest and bows deeply, causing two men behind her to look away. You are slightly confused - though you could have sworn you saw the woman who introduced her licking her lips hungrily and biting her lower lip.
“It’s nice to meet you, Yuna.” You said, extending your hand when she rises. She takes your hand - a firm grip.
“It’s nice to meet you as well, sir. Please take good care of me.”
“Please take good care of me as well, Yuna. I have very high expectations - the woman you’re replacing basically ran my entire life.”
“I’m well aware, sir - Ryujin unnie made sure to brief me on everything.”
“Yes, Ryujin unnie - What?”
“Did she not tell you, sir? Ryujin unnie is my older sister.”
“No she did not…”
“Well not biologically.” Yuna explained. “Unnie’s family took me in when I was little. Made me feel like I was their own.”
“That’s nice to know.” You replied curtly before turning your attention to the people sitting in the conference room. “That’ll be all for this meeting, everyone. Let me know if you have any questions.”
Everyone bowed, gathering their belongings and exiting the room in a swift manner. You looked at the four people behind Yuna.
“Good work, everyone.”
They mirrored the same actions, bowing to you and leaving in a single file line, closing the door behind them until only you and Yuna are left in the room.
“Come, let me show you my office.”
-
Yuna tucks a strand of hair behind her ear while you go in detail about your expectations and daily responsibilities she is required to do.
“Every morning Ryujin brings her and myself coffee. Call it a morning ritual.”
A sharp glint in her eyes goes unnoticed by you, Yuna well aware of your words thanks to her sister’s debriefing.
“Sir-”
You turn around, stopping in your tracks. Yuna’s skirt hugged her wide hips like a second skin - her entire outfit showing off the perfect hourglass figure you thought was only a myth. Was her blouse always slightly unbuttoned? You weren’t sure.
“Yes, Yuna?”
“Please excuse my forwardness, but unnie told me exactly how you like starting your mornings.”
“Oh? And how exactly do I like starting them, Miss Shin?”
One set of clacks from her heels closes the distance between the two of you.
“Maybe instead of explaining how I could just, show you?”
In a bold move that catches you off guard, Yuna cups the crotch of your slacks, squeezing with a bit of force before grabbing a hair tie from her wrist and turning to her side - letting you see her patented S-line figure. She bites the hair tie, running her fingers through her hair and grabbing it to form a ponytail. Once her hair is neatly tied, she gives you a confident wink and descends on her knees.
“Unnie said the only way for you to have a clear head all day is to have your other head completely clear, daddy.”
You felt yourself twitch slightly. Damn you, Shin Ryujin.
Her fingers work like they’re possessed - making quick work of your belt and the button of your slacks. The zipper being moved down sounded like potato chips being crushed inside of a university library. Yuna tugged it and your boxer briefs down, leaving your lower body fully exposed for her.
“Oh wow, daddy. Unnie wasn’t lying when she said this is the prettiest cock she’s ever sucked.”
Your tip was leaking precum, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Yuna.
“Your veins look so angry and thick, daddy. And you’re uncut! I just love uncut cocks.”
She planted a kiss on your covered tip, smiling and looking at it as if it’s the only thing that exists. She traces along a particularly defined vein - Ryujin calling it her favorite. Leaning slightly close, she inhales a strong whiff.
“Mmm, I love the smell of a man. But I can also smell unnie.” She said, giggling as she flicked your foreskin with her tongue. “Can taste her, too.”
That simple act alone would have made you cum instantly had Ryujin not drained you before her arrival.
“Taste?”
“Yes, taste. Let’s just say… unnie and I have explored a different side of ourselves. It’s nice, but doesn’t replace a good cock and a real man. But, I do like making her feel good from time to time. She does the same for me.”
“I’m learning all kinds of things today.”
“Like how both of your secretaries are sisters and good at sucking cock?”
“Yes to the first part. The second part-”
Yuna takes your statement as an invitation for a challenge.
Without letting you even finish, she parts her lips and opens her mouth to take the entirety of your length inside.
“What the fuck…”
She wastes no time.
Yuna’s mouth was unlike anything you have ever experienced. She moves her tongue from side to side underneath your cock, before your underside is put through a wave motion, causing you to tilt your head back.
“Holy shit…”
Either Yuna is the greatest cocksucker to ever live or Ryujin gave her younger sister explicit details on how you liked receiving a blowjob.
There’s a hunger and sparkle in her eyes - as if she wants to prove she is better than Ryujin. Her hot, wet mouth makes contact with your sensitive shaft, constantly applying a fresh amount of her generous saliva onto you. Her tongue now runs along the underside, as she watches you lose control right in front of her.
“Goddamn, you know how to suck cock.”
She pulls back slightly, your cock leaving her mouth with a loud, wet pop. She admires her work, her hot breath sending shivers through your spine as she gives you soft, teasing kisses.
“Told you. I have lots of experience giving unnie’s boyfriends and flings head. I even gave my cousin his first blowjob as a birthday gift.” Yuna proudly states.
“Holy shit, you really are a slut.”
“Your slut, daddy.”
“Now why don’t you relax and let me take care of you.”
You aren’t even given time to respond as her mouth returns onto you - her lips parting and taking you inch by inch until you could feel her throat. She flexes those muscles, the combination of heat, wetness and tightness all working together to make you forget about Ryujin.
She hollows her cheeks as she slurps up and down your meat.
Her head bobs at a gradual speed, Yuna continuing to tease the underside just below your tip. She continues this for several minutes until she opens her mouth wider and talks while her mouth is stuffed.
“You know, daddy. Unnie would make me so jealous going on and on about how she would spend all day in your office servicing you. And when she would come home on wobbly legs, I would pout wishing that was me instead.”
“Fuck, baby…”
“Mmm, yes daddy?”
“K-Keep sucking daddy’s cock.”
“Gladly.”
Her mouth latches back onto you, moaning slightly when she feels your hands grabbing both sides of her head and pushing it down your length. She relaxes her tongue and mouth as you use your new secretary like she was the fleshlight Ryujin gifted you for Christmas that she claimed was molded after her own pussy.
Yuna is choking herself on you - proving to herself, probably, that you will now only need her.
Unlike her sister’s mouth services during important meetings or video calls, Yuna is as loud as could possibly be. Perhaps even louder. A mixture of gagging and sloppy, foaming saliva can be seen. Heard. Felt.
You run your hands through Yuna’s long, beautiful, perfectly straight hair.
If Ryujin could be considered the devil, Yuna is the ultimate sex demon.
A bold presumption to make from just one blowjob, but her mouth and skills are unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.
“Dahhhdyy.” Yuna chokes out when she opens her mouth slightly to allow you to thrust inside.
“Don’t say a fucking word and let daddy use your mouth.” You snarl as you thrust into the moist, heat filled cavern. Neither of you could control your voices/volume, the pleasure and temperature rising to uncontrollable levels.
“Just keep taking daddy’s cock like a good girl.”
Her lips are beginning to swell, her lipstick a forgotten afterthought - once applied on your base, now washed away thanks to her plentiful saliva. The spit connects you and her chin, streaks visible and breaking with each bob of her head.
“I can’t believe Ryujin didn’t tell me she had a fleshlight of a sister.” You snarled, tightening your grip on her head. You tugged at her hair, almost to the point where you were sure you could pull locks off her head. But you didn’t care. No, the only thing that mattered was your newly hired secretary was doing a second round audition of sorts - one that involved less talking and more showing.
Yuna’s saliva sticks onto your balls with each thrust, soon enough it drips onto the floor below.
You thrust your hips even faster, knowing the end is quickly approaching.
“Fuck, you slut. You’re gonna make daddy cum.”
Yuna grunts, her version of acknowledgement as she flexes her throat muscles and tightens on your cock. Her dark, beautiful eyes pool with pure lust as she can feel your cock throb.
Her hands grip onto your thighs, the beautiful medium length nails painfully digging into your skin as if challenging you to use her even more.
The request will not be denied.
You tighten the grip your fingers hold on her hair and you thrust your cock as deep down her throat as you can. It was as if you were both possessed - her reveling in being a fucksleeve for your pleasure, and you, wanting nothing more than to establish power dynamic in this newfound relationship.
“Keep going, slut. Daddy’s about to cum.”
Yuna again flexes her throat muscles as her eyes water and she looks up at you - wanting you to go all the way. To claim what is rightfully yours.
Her.
Several harsh repeated thrusts of your hips down her throat - you moaning her name loudly as you feel the floodgates open.
You cum.
You cum hard.
Yuna adjusts her mouth as saliva falls out of it, staining her chin and your balls while you push her head down hard.
You pulse - the jets of cum firing deep into her throat. It’s hot, wet and absolutely satisfying. Yuna squints as she laughs, sending vibrations on the underside of your cock and causing you to moan even louder as you feel her throat tighten and hear her start to swallow your load.
Yuna’s gulps are greedy.
They’re coming from a woman who wants to claim her older sister’s man as her own. To show you that you were truly missing out. To prove that she is the superior sister.
You empty yourself inside Shin Yuna’s mouth. Your legs shake from how much pleasure it’s causing you, the intensity unlike anything you’ve ever felt. You hold her head down for several minutes, even after she drained you completely.
Then you bob her head, as if you want it to clean up the mess she’s made. Yuna giggles, smiling through her eyes as she uses her own hands and taps on yours, signaling you to let go. She continues this ten more times until she withdraws herself from your shaft.
“Ahhhh.”
Loud wet pops when your cock is released from her mouth seems to be a Shin sister special.
“Tissue?”
Yuna shakes her head.
“Not yet. I want to clean you up some more first, daddy.”
She paints stripes on your entire length, removing layers of spit, cum and the faintest amount of her lipstick. Her tongue flicks the tip - removing the last remaining dribbles of your seed.
“None of unnie’s men have ever used me that rough.”
Yuna pulls your foreskin back slightly, creating enough of an opening for her to stick her tongue inside it.
“Oh, shit…”
She purrs in delight, satisfied that you appreciate her cleanup skills.
Her tongue digs - exploring the fleshy cave that is the area between your foreskin and cock. Ryujin’s tongue only went just below the mushroom head. Yuna was able to go past that and actually reach your length with her own tip.
“So like, you’re totally in love with me now.”
Yuna’s words reach you right away.
“What?”
“Oh please, daddy.” She says as she continues to dig into your foreskin.
“This is how I get all of unnie’s men to fall in love with me. Call it - The Shin Yuna Experience.”
“Your ego is just as massive as your blowjob skills.”
“You can’t deny it, daddy. And this is just the first of many.”
-
So ends the very eventful first day of Secretary Shin Yuna.
The next few weeks blur into everyday feeling the same.
Every morning is the exact same - a hot cup of coffee, two sugars, one cream. Your secretary under your desk drains your balls. Planting a wet smooch once she has thoroughly cleaned it.
Two mid-morning meetings: you fingering Yuna who is sitting next to you, trying her best to stifle her moans while an investor presents the sales plan from the previous week. The next, your secretary giving you a handjob - sticking her finger inside your foreskin while her nail scratches it. This causes your knee to bump loudly on the table, causing people nearby to startle in shock and immediately ask if you were okay. All you could do is grunt, Yuna folding her lips into her mouth to stifle a laugh, continuing her fluid up and down motion.
After one eventful Friday night, Yuna asked for a ride home. Under the guise of “wanting something explained” from the morning, it ended up with her tangled in your sheets moaning loudly as you emptied yourself inside her.
You texted her the next morning after she left, discovering an empty contact lens case and a brush left in your bathroom. She says she’ll come pick it up that evening - Shin Yuna was a bold-faced, seductive liar.
Things start to accumulate in your apartment.
First it was a pillow she claims she couldn’t sleep without. Then it was a matching set of laced bra and panties when she brought a basket full of laundry saying that her washing machine was broken. She brings home a full fridge of groceries one evening. Claims she would wither away seeing your simple sparkling water and ready to eat meals.
One weekend she insists that the right side of your walk in closet is hers now.
“That is ridiculous, Yuna.”
“Nonsense, daddy. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is also mine.”
You were about to refute her argument until she made a show of tying her hair, the hairtie in between her teeth as she teased you, wiggling her skirt and tying her hair before descending onto her knees.
And while no boundaries or official statements were made by either side, Yuna eventually fully moved into your apartment.
One evening the two of you are laying in bed, exhausted after multiple rounds of debauchery. Yuna snuggles tightly into you. You accept - one arm holding her tightly while the other brushes hair out of her perfect face. She smiles, satisfied and fully comfortable.
Her body is warm, as if it was molded perfectly against you. Her skin is extremely soft - the results of a strict regimen and the most expensive bottles of lotion and body wash you’ve ever bought.
She plants kisses on your chest, causing the baby hairs on it to rise, making her way up your neck, slightly sucking on it to leave a small welt. Her lips trace your jaw, nibbling softly before she cups your face and brings it down to face her.
“I love you, daddy.”
It’s soft - a genuine confession that you can see shining through her eyes. She kisses you once more, her hand flicking your nipples as she traces down your stomach and uses a slightly firm grip on your deflated cock.
“I… love you too, baby.”
She smiles - the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen as she begins to stroke you.
“I told you I’m your slut.”
You laugh, planting a kiss on her nose as you throb in her fist.
“That you are, baby.”
The two of you kiss once more - soft, loving. A thousand words that couldn’t be said wrapped up in one simple action.
-
Don’t worry, Ryujin is not forgotten. Due to delays with the contractor, city permits, and an abundance of thieves defacing the chicken wire fencing put up, she and Yeji were forced to stay at the site of the second branch for much longer.
“It’ll be at least another six months, daddy.” Ryujin whined one evening inside her hotel room. The twelve hour time difference meant she would be calling you while it was regular working hours.
“Six months? You said it would only be six weeks, babe. You and Yeji are supposed to fly back here in a few days.”
“I know! But with everything that happened, it doesn’t look like we would be able to come home anytime soon. Yeji unnie even tried fucking the person in charge of the permits. His answer didn’t change and he came in less than three minutes.”
“That… doesn’t sound like a productive use of time.”
“I know, daddy. But enough about that, how’s Yuna?”
“She’s, wonderful.”
“Oh, I can tell, daddy. Are you giving daddy a nice blowjob, sweetie?”
“Yes, unnie!” Yuna can be heard underneath your desk releasing your cock with a loud pop. “Daddy’s cock keeps me satisfied all day!”
“That’s my girl.” Ryujin proudly states. “Well, I have to let you two go. We have to submit documents to city hall later and unnie wants to try a new sushi spot.”
“I love you, daddy.”
“Love you too, baby.”
Ryujin blows one final kiss before the call disconnects.
Yuna kisses your tip one final time before getting up from under your desk.
“When are we going to tell her, daddy?”
“Tell her what?” You raised your eyebrow, pretending to not know what she is asking.
Yuna rolls her eyes and puffs her cheeks out.
“You promised me we would tell her while I was giving you your morning blowjob!” She whines cutely, raising her left hand and adjusting a form fitting ring, adorned with a 4 carat diamond.
“And we will.” You said, wrapping your arms around her waist and bringing her onto your exposed lap. She looks away, pretending to be mad. You bring her right hand up, planting a kiss onto the back of it before turning it around and nuzzling your cheek. Yuna smiles softly.
“When are you going to tell her you stopped taking the pill?”
“Daddy!”
“What? That is what you said.” You replied, laughing. “You’re the one who said you want me to fuck a baby into you.”
“I know! But…”
“When did my beautiful girlfriend become so shy…”
“Since I took you away from my sister and fell in love with you.”
“Yuna…”
“I know unnie still loves you. And I know you love her. But I also know you love me, too.”
She grabs both sides of your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.
“Tell you what. Why don’t we call unnie again. Only this time, you’ll be fucking me.”
“That’s it? We did that yesterday when you insisted on FaceTiming her while it was the middle of the night for her.”
Yuna dismounts, bending slightly until her mouth is leveled with your ear.
“If you do this for me, I’ll let you breed unnie, too.”
The script rests in your lap. Several pages are creased at the corners, evidence of how many times you've flipped back to the same three lines. Around you, the bedroom set hums with a half-awake energy. Crew members wander between light stands and camera rigs, some checking cables, others returning with fresh cups of coffee. The overhead lights are dimmed to mimic the soft warmth of early morning.
You murmur the dialogue to yourself, rolling the words around your mouth to feel their rhythm. You're trying to figure out where the emotion lives, where the line is supposed to land.
“Hey.”
You look up. Jenna stands a few feet away, wrapped in a white robe, her hair loose and falling over her shoulders. One hand is tucked casually into the robe’s pocket as she nods toward the far end of the set, away from the monitors and the small cluster of crew.
“Got a minute?”
Jenna Ortega asking if you have a minute... Still hard to wrap your head around everything going on in your life right now. And yeah, for her, you’ve got all the time in the world.
You close the script and follow her past a rack of wardrobe bags to a quieter corner near the props table. She leans her hip against it and crosses her arms, looking at you.
"So I've been going over the scene," she starts, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth for a second. "And I don't know. Some of the dialogue feels off. Like it doesn't match who these people are."
You nod slowly, because you've had the same itch. "The argument?"
"Yeah." She shifts her weight. "They just spent the night together for the first time. That's huge for both of them. And then she's supposed to ask him where they stand and he's supposed to get defensive and they go back and forth and it turns into this whole thing? It feels... loud. These two aren't loud people."
She's right. You've felt it every time you've read through the scene. The dialogue pushes too hard, forces the tension instead of letting it breathe. You lean against the wall beside the table and cross your arms, mirroring her without thinking about it.
"What are you thinking instead?"
Jenna straightens up, and you can see the gears turning. "Okay, so. She asks the question. The big one. And your character… he doesn't argue. He just... hesitates. She sees it. She reads everything she needs to in that pause. And instead of fighting about it, she just gets quiet. Gets up. Starts picking up her clothes off the floor." She mimes it with one hand. "No yelling, no dramatic exit. Just disappointment."
You picture it: the silence filling the room, the rustle of fabric, the way the camera could hold on your character's face as he watches her pull away. It's better. It's significantly better.
"That's a really good call," you tell her. This is one of those moments where you remember exactly who you're working with. She's been doing this since she was a kid, but it's not just experience, she gets people. Gets how they move through pain.
Her face lights up. "Yeah? You think so?"
"I think it's going to hit way harder than what's on the page."
She reaches out and grabs your hand, squeezing it once. "Don't say anything to the team. Let's just do it. I want to see their faces."
You squeeze back. "Deal."
"Places in five, everyone!" The AD's call cuts through the ambient noise and Jenna drops your hand, already moving back toward the set with that energy she gets right before a take; contained, electric, every part of her brain clicking into gear.
You follow, heart thumping a little faster than you'd like to admit. Not nerves, exactly. More like awareness. Of the scene, of the bed sitting under those warm lights, of what the next twenty minutes are going to require from both of you.
The robes come off at the edge of the set. You shrug yours onto a chair and you're down to your boxer briefs. Jenna unties hers and lets it slide off her shoulders, and she's in a simple black bra and matching underwear. She folds the robe neatly, hands it to a PA, and pads barefoot to the bed without a trace of self-consciousness. You climb in on the other side.
"Okay, let's get you two closer," the director says from behind the monitor. "This is the morning after. I want to feel the intimacy. Jenna, curl into him. Yeah, like that."
She shifts across the mattress and presses herself against your side, her head finding the space between your shoulder and your chest. Her palm flattens over your sternum. Under the blankets, which the crew pulls up to cover you both from the stomach down, her bare legs tangle loosely with yours.
"What if he's playing with my hair?" Jenna says, not lifting her head. "Like absent-minded.”
"Love it. Do that," the director tells you.
You bring your hand up and thread your fingers into her hair, slow, gentle, letting the dark strands slip through and fall. Her scalp is warm beneath your fingertips. She makes a small sound of approval and settles deeper against you.
"Rolling."
"Speed."
"And... action."
The room goes still. You keep stroking her hair, staring up at the ceiling the way your character would, caught somewhere between contentment and dread. Jenna shifts against you, her thumb tracing a slow circle on your chest. She lets the silence stretch. Then: "I keep thinking about what happens when we leave this room."
You don't answer right away. Your fingers pause in her hair, just for a beat, then continue. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean." She lifts her head enough to look at you, her chin resting on your chest, those dark eyes searching your face. "Last night wasn't nothing. At least it wasn't nothing to me."
"It wasn't nothing to me either."
"Then what was it?"
"Tess..."
"Don't do that. Don't say my name like you're about to let me down easy."
"I'm not trying to let you down."
"Then talk to me. Just talk to me like a normal person for five seconds." She pushes up onto her elbow, and the blanket slips a little, and she's looking at you with this raw, open expression that makes your character want to run and stay in equal measure.
You exhale through your nose. Your hand drops from her hair to the pillow beside your head. "What's happening with me right now… the stuff I'm dealing with… it's not safe. Not for anyone close to me. And you being here, being this close, it makes you a target. I can't do that to you."
"That's not your decision to make."
"Yeah, it is. Because I'm the one who'd have to live with it if something happened to you."
She holds your gaze. The silence stretches between you, and this is the moment - the improvisation. You watch something shift behind her eyes. Acceptance laced with hurt. She doesn't argue. She doesn't push. She just looks at you for a long, quiet second. Then she nods, and that's when you feel it.
Under the blankets, hidden from every camera angle and every pair of eyes in the room, Jenna's hand slides down from your chest. Dragging across your stomach, fingernails trailing lightly over your skin, slipping past the waistband of your boxers.
Her fingers wrap around your cock.
Your entire body locks up. Every muscle, every nerve, every rational thought frozen. She's holding you, her grip soft but certain, her thumb brushing along the underside of your shaft, and she hasn't broken character. Not even a flicker. Her expression is still that quiet devastation, still that resigned hurt, and she's stroking you, a long slow pull from base to tip that sends heat flooding through your entire lower body.
"So that's it?" she asks, and her tone is steady, wounded, perfectly calibrated. "You're just going to push me away and pretend this didn't mean anything?"
You have to speak. There's a camera three feet from your face and a boom mic above your head and the director is watching on the monitor and you have to speak.
"It meant everything." Your throat is tight. You're not sure how much of that is acting. Her hand squeezes gently around your shaft and slides back down, agonizingly slow, her palm warm and dry against your skin. You're hardening in her grip, blood rushing south so fast it makes your head swim. "That's exactly why I can't do this."
"Can't or won't?" She looks down at her own hand on your chest, the one that's visible, the one that's part of the scene, and then back up at you. Underneath the covers, her other hand keeps its rhythm, steady and unhurried, her fingers tightening just enough on each upstroke to make your pulse stutter.
"Does it matter?" You manage to keep your expression composed. Barely. Your hand grips the sheet beside your hip. She runs her thumb across the tip of your cock and you feel yourself twitch against her palm, fully hard now, and the effort it takes to keep your breathing even is monumental.
"It matters to me," she says softly. Her ring finger traces a line along the ridge of your head, back and forth, feather-light and devastating. "It matters a lot, actually."
"Tess. Please."
She searches your face for another long beat. Her fingers tighten around your shaft, a slow squeeze that travels upward, and she doesn't look away from you. Not for a second. The cameras are rolling. The crew is silent. And Jenna Ortega is holding your cock under the sheets as if this is completely routine.
"Do you love me?"
Her eyes are glassy, and you're not sure anymore where Jenna ends and Tess begins, because the look on her face is so raw, so open, that it pins you in place. Your character hesitates. You hesitate. Her thumb traces a circle just below the head of your cock, and you feel the words snag in your throat.
"You know I do."
"Then say it."
"I love you, Tess. You know that. You've always known that."
"So you love me, but you can't be with me."
"Not right now. Not with everything that's going on. It would put you at risk and I can't stomach that."
"And what about what I can stomach? What about what I want?" She pushes up onto her elbow, and there's a tremor in her chin that reads perfectly on camera. "You don't get to make that choice for both of us."
"I already made it."
You keep your gaze on the ceiling because if you look at her you're going to break, and your character can't break. Not here. Her hand releases your cock, and the sudden absence of her touch is almost worse than the contact itself. Your skin feels cold where she was. She sits up slowly. The blanket pools at her waist. She doesn't say anything else. She doesn't need to. Every single thing she's feeling is written across her face in a language more articulate than any script could manage.
She swings her legs over the side of the bed. Bends down. Picks up the jeans from the floor, the t-shirt draped over the back of the chair. She dresses with her back to you, pulling the shirt over her head, stepping into the jeans, and the quietness of it, the economy of her movements, is amazing.
She pauses at the door. Doesn't turn around. Her shoulders rise and fall with one long breath. Then she walks out, and the door clicks shut behind her.
"Cut."
The silence holds for another beat. Then the director exhales audibly from behind the monitor.
"What the hell was that?"
You brace yourself. Your pulse is hammering for about four different reasons, and you're lying very still under the blankets, acutely aware that your cock is still rigid against your stomach.
"That wasn't the script," the director continues, stepping around the monitor. He's not angry. He's got that look, the one he gets when something clicks into place. "That was better than the script. The exit, the silence, the way she just... left. Jesus. That was beautiful. Both of you."
A few crew members murmur in agreement. Someone claps twice.
"Alright, let's check the playback. Great work, everyone. Reset for scene fourteen."
The crew starts moving. Lights shift. Equipment gets repositioned. The director turns to you, still in bed.
"You coming?"
"I'm going to, uh." You adjust the pillow behind your head. "I'll be a minute. Just want to sit with the scene for a second."
He buys it, nods, moves on. Across the set, past a cluster of PAs reviewing their tablets, Jenna is pulling her robe back on. She catches your eye. Her gaze drops to the blankets bunched at your waist, then back to your face, and the smirk that curls across her mouth is pure, undiluted mischief. She knows exactly why you're not getting up.
She turns away, still smirking, and disappears around the corner. You lie there for another three minutes, thinking about absolutely anything else until your body cooperates.
This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you signed on to co-star in a movie with Jenna.
Six months ago, you were performing in a ninety-seat theater, sweating under rented lights, splitting a dressing room with three other actors and a broken radiator. You were good. But good doesn't always mean visible, and visibility is the currency that matters in this industry. A casting director saw your tape. Then a callback. Then a chemistry read. Then a phone call from your agent that made you sit down on the edge of your bed and stare at the wall for ten minutes straight.
You're in a feature film. A real one, with a real budget and a real director and a theatrical release date. And your co-star is Jenna Ortega, Hollywood actress, who just wrapped her fingers around your cock on a film set and stroked you while delivering a monologue that will probably end up in the trailer.
She's talented in a way that makes you want to work harder. She has this instinct for what a scene needs, a precision that looks effortless. You've watched her between takes, the way she recalibrates, the way she listens to direction and then filters it through her own understanding of the character. She's the real deal.
The problem is, she's also decided that you're her new favorite toy.
It started subtle. A lingering glance during blocking. A hand on your arm. Comments delivered with a tilt of her head and a warmth in her tone that made your neck hot. You thought she was just being friendly. That this was how she worked, building chemistry, establishing rapport. Actors do that.
But actors don't usually jerk you off during a take.
So that's where you are now, pacing outside her trailer three hours later, running your tongue along the inside of your teeth, trying to figure out how to have this conversation without sounding like an idiot.
You knock.
"It's open."
You step inside. The trailer is small but nice, warm lighting, a couch along one wall, a vanity cluttered with makeup and half-empty water bottles. Jenna is sitting cross-legged on the couch in an oversized hoodie and shorts, a cigarette between her fingers, a thin curl of smoke drifting toward the ceiling.
"Hey,'' she says casually.
You close the door behind you. "What was that?"
"What was what?" She brings the cigarette to her lips, takes a slow drag, and watches you through the haze.
"During the scene, Jenna. Your hand. On me. In front of the entire crew."
She tilts her head. "Did it bother you?"
"That's not the point. You did that while we were rolling. If anyone had seen, if the blanket had shifted, if someone checked the angle on playback..."
"But they didn't."
"That's not the point either."
"Okay, so what's the point?" She taps ash into a ceramic tray on the armrest and looks at you with curiosity, like she really wants to know, like this is all a perfectly reasonable conversation.
"The point is you can't just do that. We're at work. There are cameras, there are people, this is a professional set."
"You liked it."
"Jenna."
"You did. Don't stand there and act like you didn't. You were hard in about ten seconds, and by the end you were leaking." She takes another drag, letting the smoke fill her cheeks before releasing it in a slow, thin stream directly into your face. You don't step back. She stubs the cigarette out, grinding it into the tray with a twist of her wrist. "Tell me I'm wrong."
"That's just a physical response. It doesn't mean anything."
"That's such bullshit, dude." She uncrosses her legs and leans forward. "I've seen the way you look at me. Between takes. During rehearsals. When you think I'm not paying attention. You're so fun to mess with because you try so hard to pretend you're not into it."
You're standing two feet from her and the smoke still lingers between you, warm and bitter. "Is that what this is? You're just messing with me? Is that all I am, entertainment?"
"What's wrong with you? Obviously not." She stands up from the couch in one fluid motion, closing the distance between you before you can recalibrate. The top of her head barely reaches your chin. But she grabs the front of your shirt with both fists and pulls you down until your faces are inches apart. "I want so much more than that."
"I don't know if I believe you.”
“Then let me prove it.”
She kisses you. You definitely weren't expecting that.
Her mouth is warm and tastes like cigarettes, and for a second you don't move. Your brain is still catching up, still processing the shift from confrontation to contact, and then something clicks into place and your hands come up to hold her face. Your palms cup her jaw, thumbs resting on her cheekbones, and you kiss her back. She makes a soft sound against your lips, pleased, encouraging, and you walk her backward toward the small bed at the back of the trailer. Her knees hit the edge and she sits, then lies back, pulling you down with her by the shirt. You brace yourself above her, one hand on the mattress beside her head, and she looks up at you with those dark eyes and grins.
"Took you long enough."
"We're in the middle of a movie, Jenna. This could blow up in both our faces."
"Nobody has to find out. This stays between us." She runs her fingers along the back of your neck, nails scratching lightly through your hair. "Our thing. That's it."
She pulls you down again and kisses you, slower and deeper. Her lips part and her tongue slides against yours, and then she sucks on it gently, drawing it into her mouth with a wet pull that makes your stomach clench. You feel her smile around it.
"Do you like me?" she asks against your mouth, her breath warm on your lips.
"I don't know."
She kisses you again, quick and biting. "Liar. That's fine. I like you. I like you a lot, actually. And I know you like me too, you're just too scared to say it out loud." Her thumb traces your jawline. "I think it's cute, honestly. The whole shy thing. Very endearing."
"Fuck you. I'm not shy."
"Sure you're not."
You kiss her again, harder now, and she responds immediately, her body arching up into yours, her legs parting so you settle between them. Your hand slides down her side, over the curve of her hip, fingers tracing the strip of bare skin between her hoodie and her shorts. She's warm everywhere, and small beneath you in a way that makes you hyperaware of every point of contact. Her hands slip under your shirt, palms flat against your stomach, traveling up over your ribs. You pull back to look at her. Her lips are swollen and slick, a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths for a split second before it breaks. Her cheeks are flushed. She's breathing faster.
Three sharp knocks on the trailer door.
You both freeze.
"Jenna? It's Laura."
Her agent. Jenna's eyes go wide and she pushes at your chest. You roll off her instantly, standing up and stepping back, grabbing your phone from your pocket, unlocking it, pretending to scroll. Jenna sits up, swipes the back of her hand across her chin where a faint sheen of spit glistens, smooths her hair down with both palms, and pulls the hoodie straight.
"Yeah, come in!"
The door opens and Laura steps inside, tablet in hand, reading glasses pushed up onto her forehead. She glances at you, then at Jenna, and doesn't seem to register anything unusual. "Hey, sorry, didn't know you had company. I need to go over the press schedule for next week, they moved the junket up two days."
"Oh, great." Jenna's tone is perfectly, terrifyingly normal. "Yeah, let's go through it."
You hold up your phone, gesturing vaguely toward the door. "I'll get out of your hair. We can pick up that conversation later."
Jenna looks at you. There's nothing in her expression that Laura would catch, nothing overt, nothing suspicious. But you see it. That flicker in her eyes. That knowing heat.
"Yeah," she says. "We'll definitely finish that conversation."
You nod at Laura on your way out, step down from the trailer, and pull the door shut behind you. The afternoon air hits your face and you stand there for a second with your hand still on the railing, your pulse hammering in your ears and the taste of cigarette smoke still coating your tongue.
—
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand around eleven. You're sitting up in bed with the script open on your lap, highlighter in hand, trying to focus on tomorrow's scenes. The screen lights up with her name.
can i come over?
You stare at it for a second. Then the next one arrives.
i want to finish our conversation
You type back quickly: It's late. We filmed all day. You should rest
i want to talk about the script too. i have ideas for scene 22
You seriously doubt that. You set the phone down and go back to the script, but it buzzes again almost immediately.
pleaseeee. i'll be quick i promise
Then another.
unless you don't want me to be quick ;)
She's relentless. You know if you say no she'll just keep texting, and to be honest, part of you doesn't actually want to say no.
Fine. I'll be waiting
omw :)
Three minutes later there's a knock. You open the door and she slips past you before you've even stepped aside, already toeing off her sneakers and leaving them by the entrance. She's wearing grey sweatpants that sit low on her hips and a cropped white tank top, no bra, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Casual, simple, and somehow the most distracting thing you've seen all day.
She walks further into the room, looking around with open curiosity. Takes in the desk covered in script pages, the open suitcase in the corner, the half-eaten room service plate.
"So this is where you hide."
"I don't hide."
"You kind of hide." She turns back to you with a small smile. "It's a nice room. Bigger than mine, actually."
"What do you want, Jenna?"
"Relax." She crosses the room and sits on the edge of your bed, bouncing once to test the mattress. "Come sit." You stay standing, arms crossed. She pats the space beside her. "You've been really tense lately. Like, noticeably. On set, off set, everywhere. It's not good for you."
"This is my first real role,” you say. “First time any of this has been real. I don't want to mess it up." You lean against the desk across from her. "Maybe that doesn't mean much to you, but it means everything to me."
"I take every single role seriously. Every one. I'm not screwing around here, and I wouldn't work with someone I didn't think was good enough to be here. That's why I want to help you. You're talented. You just need to trust yourself more."
"Right. Because you jerking me off in the middle of a take is a real confidence booster."
She laughs, her head tipping back. "Okay. Fair. That was... yeah. That was a lot."
"You think?"
"It was just a joke. I got caught up in the moment." She catches your expression and holds up both hands. "I won't do it again. Not if you don't want me to. I promise."
"Thank you."
"But." She drops her hands to her lap. "I still want you. By the way, you don't have a girlfriend, right?"
"No."
"Good."
She stands up from the bed, closes the distance between you, and before you can react she's grabbing the front of your shirt and pulling you toward the mattress. You stumble forward and she maneuvers you around until you're sitting on the edge, then she climbs onto your lap, her knees on either side of your hips, settling her weight against you.
"I like being close to you," she says, her arms draping over your shoulders. "You're calm. Grounded. You think before you talk, which is rare in this industry. Everybody's always performing. You're not like that."
"Jenna..."
"Tell me what you want. If you don't want this, say the word and I'll go back to my room and we'll pretend tonight didn't happen. No awkwardness. No weirdness on set. I can do that." She meets your gaze and holds it. "But if you do want this, then stop fighting it."
You sit with it for a second. Her weight on your thighs. The warmth of her through the thin fabric of her sweatpants. The way she smells, clean and a little sweet. It's not easy to feign indifference in this situation. "Yeah," you say. "I want this."
Her lips curve. "Yeah?"
"But you have to stop messing with me like that. The teasing, the games, the stunts on set. If we're doing this, we're doing it like adults."
You punctuate the point by reaching around and pinching her ass, a firm squeeze right at the curve where it meets her thigh. She lets out a sharp yelp and slaps your chest, but she's laughing, her whole body shaking with it. "Okay, okay! I promise. No more stunts."
"I'm serious."
"I know, I know. I promise." She's still giggling, her forehead pressed against yours. "You're so serious all the time. It's adorable."
She starts to shift in your lap, a slow roll of her hips that grinds her ass against you. It's subtle at first, almost incidental, but then she does it again, more pronounced, and you feel the pressure build exactly where she intends it to. Your hands find her hips and slide down to cup her ass through the sweatpants, squeezing gently, pulling her tighter against you.
"It's kind of strange," you say between breaths. "Someone like you being interested in someone like me."
She pulls back enough to look at you. "Someone like me?"
"You know what I mean."
She studies your face for a beat, then leans in and presses her lips to yours, soft and brief. "Yeah. I know what you mean." Another kiss. "And I think you're selling yourself short."
Your mouth finds hers again, and between kisses you murmur against her lips: "What you did today was wrong. Getting me worked up like that and then just leaving. Walking away like nothing happened while I'm lying there trying to will my dick to go down."
She giggles into the kiss, her teeth catching your bottom lip. "I know. I'm terrible."
"I'm serious. That was cruel."
"I bet you locked yourself in the bathroom after and jerked off until you came." The silence you give her is enough of an answer. Her grin turns wicked. "I knew it! I knew it!" She kisses the corner of your mouth. "That's exactly why I came tonight. To finish what I started."
She pushes you back until you're lying flat, your head sinking into the pillows. She pulls your shirt up and off, tossing it to the floor, then runs her palms down your chest and stomach, nails dragging lightly over your skin. You reach up and pull her tank top over her head. Her breasts are small and round, freckles scattered across her sternum, her nipples already stiff in the cool air of the hotel room. She doesn't flinch, doesn't cover herself. Just lets you look.
She moves down your body, her fingers working the button of your jeans, then the zipper. She tugs them down your legs and drops them off the side of the bed. Your boxers follow, and your cock springs free, already hard, stiff against your stomach.
"See?" She wraps her hand around you and gives a slow, testing stroke. "Your body is so honest even when your mouth isn't."
She spits on your cock, a thick glob that lands on the head and slides down the shaft. Her fist follows it, spreading it around, slicking her grip until every stroke is wet and smooth. She works you slowly, base to tip, her thumb rubbing circles over the head on each upstroke.
Then she pauses, holding you loosely, and glances down at her own hand. "Do you like my nails?"
It catches you off guard. You look at her fingers wrapped around your shaft. Her nails are painted a deep burgundy, short and neat, catching the low lamplight. "Yeah. They look good on you."
She smiles, pleased. "Then you're going to like this."
She shifts on the bed, repositioning herself so she's sitting facing you with her legs extended. She lifts her feet and places them on either side of your cock. Her toes curl around the shaft, pressing you between her arches, and she looks at you through her lashes.
"Have you ever gotten a footjob before?"
"No."
“Well, tonight’s your first.”
Her skin is soft, a little cool at first as she presses her soles against either side of your shaft, and the sensation is unlike anything you've prepared for. It's not a hand. It's not a mouth. It's something stranger, the smooth pads of her feet, the subtle flex of her arches, the way her toes curl inward to hold you in place.
She starts to move, sliding her feet in opposite directions, one up while the other goes down. The friction is light, almost teasing, and you're not sure what to do with it at first. Your body doesn't quite know how to categorize the feeling. It's soft and clumsy and oddly intimate, her ankles flexing with concentration, her toes adjusting their grip each time your cock shifts between them.
"Weird, right?" she says, watching your face.
"Little bit."
"Give it a minute." She adjusts her angle, squeezing tighter, and on the next stroke something clicks. The pressure hits right beneath the head, firm and slick from where she spat on you earlier, and your hips lift off the mattress before you can stop them. She grins. "There it is."
She finds a rhythm after that, steady and slow, her feet working your cock with more precision than you expected. Her soles are warm now, heated by friction and the blood pumping through you, and the sensation builds in layers. The soft skin of her arch pressing flat against your shaft. Her toes curling around the head, squeezing once, releasing. The ball of her foot rubbing along the underside in a slow glide that makes your stomach tighten.
You let your head fall back against the pillow and stare at the ceiling for a second, processing.
"Hey." You lift your head again. "We can't stay up too late doing this. Call time's at six."
She stops moving. Stares at you. Her expression is completely flat. "That might be the most unsexy thing anyone has ever said to me. In my entire life."
"I'm trying to be responsible here."
"And I'm trying to give you a footjob. Do you think this is easy?" She resumes her strokes, her brow furrowed with mock concentration. "This takes real skill. Coordination. Core strength. My calves are going to be sore tomorrow."
"You want me to write you a thank-you note?"
"I want you to shut up about the call time and enjoy this."
Fair enough. You shut up. She keeps working, alternating between long, full strokes and shorter ones focused on the head, her toes pinching gently around the ridge. Your cock throbs between her feet, flushed and stiff, and you feel the first slick bead of precum leak from the tip. It catches the light as it slides down onto her toes, and she notices it immediately.
"Oh, you're getting wet for me."
"Don't make it weird."
"It's already weird. My feet are on your dick." She presses her big toe against the slit and smears the precum around in a slow circle. "Are you actually enjoying this? Like for real?"
"Yeah." Your throat is dry. "For real."
"I can tell." Her eyes flick from your cock to your face and back. "You do this thing when something feels good. Your jaw goes tight right here." She lifts one foot off your cock long enough to gesture at her own jaw, then puts it right back. "And your breathing changes. Gets slower. Like you're trying to control it."
"Glad I'm easy to read."
"Only when you're turned on. Rest of the time you're a locked box." She twists her feet in opposite directions, a corkscrew motion that pulls a grunt out of you before you can catch it. "See? There it is. That's the face."
She keeps going, her feet sliding up and down in that steady rhythm, her soles slick with spit and precum now. Your cock pulses between her arches, thick and rigid, the head flushed dark, and every stroke sends another wave of heat pooling low in your belly. She varies the pressure, sometimes squeezing until you can feel the individual curves of each toe against your shaft, sometimes barely touching, just the whisper of skin on skin.
Minutes pass. Your fingers dig into the sheets. Your breathing is ragged despite your best efforts, and she's watching all of it, cataloguing every reaction like she's studying for a role.
Then she stops.
She lifts her feet away from your cock and it bobs against your stomach, wet and achingly hard, pulsing with each heartbeat. You look at her, half-dazed, and she's already sitting up, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her sweatpants.
"Okay. Enough foreplay." She shimmies the pants down her legs and kicks them off the edge of the bed. She's wearing simple black underwear, the fabric thin enough that you can see the outline of her through it. She doesn't take them off. She just pushes up onto her knees and swings one leg over your hips, straddling you.
"Wait. Hold on." You put a hand on her thigh. "Condom."
She pauses, looking down at you. "Do you have one?"
You think about it. Your suitcase, your toiletry bag, the nightstand drawer. Nothing. "No."
"Then I guess we're going raw."
"Jenna."
"What? I'm on birth control. Are you clean?"
"Yeah."
"Then we're fine." She reaches between her legs and pulls the fabric of her underwear to one side, holding it there with two fingers. With her other hand she grips the base of your cock, angling it upward. "Stop overthinking."
She lowers herself. The first contact is just pressure, the head of your cock nudging against her entrance, her body resisting for a fraction of a second before it gives. She's wet, slick heat enveloping the tip as she sinks the first inch. Her thighs tremble on either side of your hips. She holds there, adjusting, her eyes half-shut, her lips parted.
Then she drops lower, slow, controlled, taking more of you in. Her body opens around you, tight and hot and impossibly smooth, every inch a new wave of sensation that climbs your spine like a current. She doesn't rush it. She takes her time, letting gravity do the work, her hips rocking in tiny adjustments as she works you deeper. When she finally bottoms out, her ass flush against your thighs, your cock buried to the hilt, she lets out a long, shuddering sigh. Her hand releases the fabric of her panties and it presses against the side of your shaft where your bodies meet. Her palms flatten on your chest. Her nails dig in just slightly.
She sits there, full of you, and starts to move.
It's barely anything at first. A slow tilt of her hips, forward and back, the smallest grind that shifts you inside her just enough to feel. Her palms stay flat on your chest, fingers spread, and she rolls into it like she's finding the angle that works. Her body is tight around you, slick and warm, and every little adjustment sends a pulse of heat straight through your core.
You watch her. You can't help it. She's stunning like this, perched above you in nothing but that black bra and the underwear pulled to the side, her stomach flexing with each roll, the faint outline of her ribs moving beneath her skin. Freckles trail across her face and chest. Her ponytail has loosened, dark strands falling around her face, sticking to the corner of her mouth. She's small on top of you, compact and precise, and every movement she makes feels intentional, like she knows exactly what she's doing to you and she's savoring it.
Your hands come up to rest on her waist. Your thumbs settle into the grooves of her hip bones and you guide her, not controlling the pace, just matching it, feeling the rhythm she's building. She responds by pressing down harder on the next stroke, grinding her clit against your pelvis, and a quiet breath escapes through her nose.
"God, you feel good," she murmurs, her eyes half-shut. "Like, really fucking good."
"Yeah?"
"Your dick is perfect. I'm not even being nice, it's just..." She trails off and rolls her hips again, deeper this time, taking you all the way to the base. "Fuck. It fills me up just right."
She picks up the pace. The slow grind sharpens into something more urgent, her hips lifting higher, dropping faster, each stroke pulling you nearly all the way out before swallowing you back in. The wet sound of it fills the room, her thighs flex on either side of your hips as she rides. Her breath comes shorter. Her nails dig into your chest, ten little crescents of pressure.
You grip her waist tighter and she leans down, collapsing the distance between you until her mouth finds yours. The kiss is messy from the start, all heat and open mouths and the salt of sweat on her upper lip. You slide one hand up her spine and cup the back of her neck, holding her there, and she moans against your tongue.
You start to thrust from below. Your hips snap upward to meet hers on the downstroke and the impact pushes a gasp out of her that breaks the kiss for a second. She recovers, presses her forehead against yours, and you do it again. And again. Each thrust drives you deep, the angle different from below, hitting something inside her that makes her whole body shudder. You hold her waist with both hands and set the pace yourself now, pulling her down onto you as you push up, and the bed frame knocks against the wall in a faint, steady beat.
"Oh fuck," she breathes against your mouth. "Just like that. Don't stop doing that."
You kiss her hard and she matches it, teeth and tongue and the taste of her flooding your senses. Then she pulls back, just an inch, and her eyes lock onto yours. "Open your mouth." You hesitate for half a second. Her gaze doesn't waver. "Open, babe."
You part your lips. She braces herself with one hand on your jaw, tilting your head back slightly, and she purses her lips above yours. A thin strand of spit stretches from her bottom lip and falls, warm and wet, landing on your tongue. It pools there, intimate and filthy, the taste of her saliva mixing with your own. She watches it happen with this focused, fascinated expression, her hips still grinding on your cock, and then she leans in and seals her mouth over yours.
Her tongue pushes past your lips and slides against yours, slick and searching, licking into the mess she just made. The kiss is wet, sloppy, her spit and yours mixing together as she sucks on your tongue, pulls it into her mouth, then pushes her own back in. You swallow and she feels it, moans at it, her hips stuttering for a second before she picks the rhythm back up. You keep thrusting. She keeps kissing you. The two of you exist in this sealed circuit of heat and friction, her moans swallowed between your mouths, vibrating against your teeth. She pulls back to breathe and a string of saliva connects your lips, catches the light, and breaks. Her eyes are glassy. Her cheeks are flushed a deep pink beneath the freckles.
"My god, you're so fucking nasty," she pants, and it sounds like the highest compliment she's ever given anyone.
"You literally just spit in my mouth."
"And you swallowed it like a good boy."
You thrust up hard and her response dies in her throat, replaced by a sharp, strangled sound. Her back arches and her hands scramble for purchase on your chest. You do it again, and again, each stroke deep and firm, angled upward, and you feel her tighten around you.
"Fuck. Fuck, I'm getting close." Her fingers clutch at your shoulders. "Don't you dare change what you're doing."
You don't. You keep the same pace, the same angle, your hands locked on her waist, pulling her down to meet each thrust. She's clenching around your cock in rhythmic pulses now, her body tightening like a coil, and her breathing fragments into short, ragged bursts.
"Make me cum." She grabs your face with both hands and looks straight at you. "I need you to make me cum right now."
You plant your feet flat on the mattress for leverage and drive up into her, faster, harder, each thrust punching the air out of her lungs. Her grip on your face tightens, her fingers pressing into your cheeks, and her mouth falls open but nothing comes out. She's right on the edge, you can feel it, her pussy clenching and releasing around your shaft, her whole body trembling, suspended.
"Come on," you tell her. "Let go."
Her thighs clamp against your hips hard and her back bows, chin tilting toward the ceiling, every muscle in her body locking at once. She cums on your cock in long, shuddering contractions, her pussy squeezing you in tight, rhythmic spasms that you feel from root to tip. Her nails rake down your chest, leaving hot lines in their wake. Her stomach flexes and releases, flexes and releases. A broken, stuttering moan finally tears loose from her throat, high and raw, and her hips grind down against you in involuntary circles as she rides through it.
It lasts a long time. Longer than you expect. You hold still inside her and let her body do what it needs to do, her walls fluttering around your cock in diminishing waves, her breathing gradually slowing from frantic to deep. She collapses forward onto your chest, boneless, her face buried in your neck. You feel her heartbeat hammering against your ribs.
For a while the only sound is her breathing and yours, and the distant hum of the hotel air conditioning. She lifts her head. Her hair is a wreck, stuck to her forehead and cheeks. Her lipstick, whatever was left of it, is smeared across her chin. She looks completely undone. And she's smiling.
"Holy shit." She laughs, breathless. "You were so much better than I expected."
"Appreciate the low expectations."
"Shut up. That's not what I meant." She pushes up on her palms, still straddling you, still full of you. "That was incredible. I think I actually blacked out for a second."
"Good. Because I'm not done."
“Oh, really?” She grins. “You gonna take charge now?
You don't give her time to recalculate. Your hands grip her waist and you lift her, turning her over in one smooth motion. Her back hits the mattress and she lets out a surprised laugh, her hair fanning across the pillow. You settle between her legs, your cock slipping out for a moment, slick and glistening, before you line yourself up again. You hook your hand under her left knee and lift it, draping her leg over your shoulder. Her calf rests against the side of your neck, her foot beside your ear.
You push forward, sliding back into her in one long, slow stroke. She's swollen and sensitive from the orgasm, her pussy gripping you tighter than before, and the sound she makes when you bottom out is something between a whimper and a sigh, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, her fingers twisting into the sheets on either side of her head.
You pull back slow, feeling every inch of her around you, then push forward in one long, steady stroke that buries you to the hilt. Her leg tenses on your shoulder, her calf flexing against your neck, and she grabs a fistful of the sheets beside her head.
"Finally," she breathes, looking up at you with glassy eyes and a grin that's half-satisfaction, half-challenge. "I was starting to think I'd have to do all the work tonight."
"You talk a lot for someone who just came so hard she forgot her own name."
"Rude." She bites her lower lip as you pull back again, slow enough that she feels every ridge. "True. But rude."
You set the pace yourself now. Long, unhurried thrusts that fill her completely, each one ending with your hips pressed flush against her, her body taking you in like she was made for it. The angle with her leg up opens her, lets you reach deeper, and every time you bottom out her breath hitches and her stomach tightens. You watch her face, the way her expression shifts with each stroke, pleasure flickering across her features.
On the next thrust, you turn your head toward her leg on your shoulder. Her foot rests right beside your face, the burgundy polish catching the lamplight. You press your lips against her arch, and she twitches.
Then you open your mouth and take her toes in. Two of them, sliding past your lips, your tongue curling against the pads, tasting salt and skin. She lets out a startled laugh, her free foot kicking against the mattress.
"Oh my god." She's giggling, squirming, but she doesn't pull away. "Are you seriously... I didn't know you were into feet."
You release her toes just enough to speak, your lips still brushing against them. "I'm not, usually."
"Could've fooled me."
"Yours are different." You drag your tongue along the underside of her big toe, slow, and watch her stomach clench. "You've got sexy feet. That's not something I thought I'd ever say out loud."
"You're full of surprises tonight." She flexes her toes against your lips, playful, testing. "It tickles, though. Just so you know. Like, a lot."
You take them back into your mouth and suck gently, your tongue pressing flat against the pads while you keep fucking her in that same measured rhythm. Her laughter fades into something softer, breathier, and her hips start to rock in time with your thrusts. You can feel the shift in her, the way her body is responding to the combination of sensations, your cock stretching her open and your mouth warm and wet on her foot.
Her skin glistens. A thin sheen of sweat covers her from collarbone to navel, catching the low light, making her look like she's been dipped in something. It collects in the hollow of her throat, in the dip between her breasts, along the crease where her thigh meets her hip. Strands of dark hair cling to her temples and cheeks. She's flushed everywhere, the freckles on her face standing out against the pink of her skin, and every time you thrust forward, a tremor runs through her that you can see in the fine muscles of her stomach.
You let her foot slip from your mouth, kiss her ankle once, then lower her leg from your shoulder. You shift your position, pulling back, standing straighter between her spread thighs. She reads the change before you say anything and wraps both legs around your waist, crossing her ankles behind you, pulling you in.
"Harder." You give it to her. Your hands grip her hips and you pick up the pace, each thrust sharper, faster, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room in a steady rhythm. The bed creaks beneath you. Her tits bounce with every impact, her hands fly to your forearms, nails sinking in.
"Oh god. Oh fuck, that's so good." Her head tips back into the pillow, exposing the long line of her throat. "Right there. Keep hitting that spot."
You adjust your angle slightly and drive into her, and her whole body jolts. Her legs tighten around your waist like a vice and she cums again, sudden and sharp, her pussy clamping down on your cock in quick, fluttering spasms. It's briefer this time, less of a wave and more of a jolt, her body seizing for a few seconds before releasing, but you don't stop. You fuck her straight through it, your hips never breaking rhythm, and she gasps, oversensitive, her nails leaving red tracks down your forearms.
"Shit, wait, I just... oh fuck, you're not stopping."
"No."
"Oh my god." Her legs loosen and tighten around you in helpless pulses. "You're trying to break me."
"Thought you wanted me to take action."
She laughs, ragged and breathless, and it melts into a moan as you thrust deep and hold there for a second before pulling back. Her hand reaches up and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you down toward her, and you fold over her, your chest against hers, her legs still locked around you. She kisses you, wet and desperate, her tongue pushing into your mouth, and you feel her breath stutter every time your hips snap forward.
She pulls back from the kiss just enough to speak, her lips moving against yours. "I want you to cum inside me." Your rhythm falters for half a second. She feels it and tightens her legs. "Don't pull out. I want to feel it." Her fingers thread into your hair and grip. "Breed me."
The word sends a spike of heat through your entire body. You thrust harder and she moans into your mouth, loud enough that you'd worry about the walls if you could think straight. "I mean it." She's panting between kisses, her breath hot on your face. "I want every single drop inside me. Fill me up."
"Jenna."
"Do it. Cum in this pussy." She clenches around you on purpose, a tight squeeze that makes your vision blur. "It's yours tonight. All of it."
You bury your face in her neck and fuck her faster, the headboard tapping the wall now, her body sliding up the mattress with each thrust until she braces one hand against the frame above her head. She turns her mouth to your ear.
"I've been thinking about this since the first week of filming. You inside me. Filling me up. Coming so deep I can feel it in my stomach." Her nails scratch across your scalp. "Give it to me. I need it."
Your entire body is coiling. The pressure builds at the base of your spine, heavy and relentless, and each thrust pulls you closer. Her pussy is soaked, the sound of it filthy and wet, and she keeps clenching around you in tight, rhythmic squeezes that push you toward the edge.
"I'm close," you tell her, your lips pressed against her collarbone.
"Good. Don't you dare pull out." She grabs your face and forces you to look at her. "I want it all. Cum inside me. Breed this little pussy."
You thrust once more, deep, as deep as you can go, and the dam breaks. The orgasm tears through you from the base of your cock outward, a pulsing, full-body release that locks your muscles and blanks your mind. You cum inside her in thick, heavy ropes, each spasm pumping more into her, and she feels it. You know she feels it because her eyes widen and her mouth falls open and she lets out this low, satisfied groan that vibrates against your chest.
"Yes. Oh my god, yes. I can feel it." She pulls you tighter against her, her legs locked, heels digging into your lower back. "There's so much. Keep going."
Your hips twitch through the aftershocks, each one pushing another pulse of cum into her. She's milking you, squeezing around your cock in slow, purposeful contractions, drawing everything out. You shudder against her, forehead pressed to her collarbone, and she runs her nails gently up and down your spine.
"That's it," she murmurs. "Every last drop."
You stay inside her as the intensity fades, your breathing rough and uneven, your heart slamming against your ribs. She keeps her legs around you, keeps holding you, and for a minute neither of you says anything. She tilts your chin up with one finger and kisses you. Slow and tender, her lips soft against yours. When she pulls back, she's smiling.
"Can I sleep here tonight? I don't feel like going back to my room."
You lower yourself onto your side, slipping out of her gently, and she winces at the loss, pressing her thighs together. A thin trail of cum leaks from her onto the sheets. You settle onto the pillow beside her and she immediately tucks herself against you, her head on your chest, her leg thrown over yours.
"Yeah. Just for tonight."
She nods against your chest. Her fingers trace lazy circles on your stomach.
"Do you regret it?"
"No." You wrap your arm around her shoulder and pull her closer. "I'm glad you came over. Even if you used the script as a fake excuse."
"It wasn't entirely fake. I do have notes on scene twenty-two."
"Sure you do."
You lie there in the quiet for a few minutes, her breathing warm and steady against your skin, and you can feel the stickiness between her thighs where she's pressed against your leg. Your cum is still leaking out of her, the sheet beneath her hip is already damp.
"Hey, you're not going to clean up?"
"Mm." She doesn't open her eyes. "Yeah. Five more minutes."
"You should do it now."
"Five more minutes. Then I'll get up."
She doesn't get up. Her breathing deepens within thirty seconds, her body going slack against yours, her fingers curling loosely against your ribs. A soft, barely audible exhale escapes through her parted lips on each breath and you realize she's out. Asleep on your chest in a hotel room with your cum drying on the inside of her thigh and tomorrow's call time six hours away.
You stare at the ceiling, one hand in her hair, listening to the quiet hum of the hotel around you and eventually you close your eyes too.
—
She said one night. You said one night. That lasted about forty-eight hours before she showed up at your door again with wet hair and a bag of takeout, and you didn't even pretend to be surprised. By the end of the first week, her phone charger lived on your nightstand. By the second, her shampoo had migrated into your shower. Your hotel room smells like her now, a permanent blend of floral perfume and Marlboro Lights that hits you every time you walk through the door.
The thing that catches you off guard isn't the sex, though the sex is exceptional and getting better every single time. It's how easy the rest of it is. On set, she's your co-star, focused and professional, trading notes between takes and pushing you to dig deeper into every scene. Off set, she's your friend, sprawled across your bed stealing fries off your plate and arguing about whether the third act needs restructuring. She's funny and sharp and occasionally insufferable, and you genuinely like being around her.
And then the sun goes down and she locks your door and becomes someone else entirely. Or maybe not someone else. Maybe just more of herself.
Yesterday you filmed the reconciliation. Emotional, heavy, the kind of scene that leaves you drained afterward. Today is different. Today you're filming the sex scene that follows it, the physical reunion after the characters find their way back to each other, and the energy on set has shifted accordingly.
The intimate scene coordinator is a woman named Rachel, mid-forties, calm and methodical, she walks you and Jenna through the choreography in a private rehearsal space adjacent to the set, mapping out every movement, every camera angle, every point of physical contact.
"So the sequence is: he enters, she pulls him to the bed, kissing. They undress. Then we move to the oral portion." Rachel checks her clipboard. "This was the addition you suggested, correct?"
"Yeah." You nod, keeping your expression neutral. "I think it adds an important layer to the reconciliation. It's an act of giving, not taking. His character is showing her that this time is different."
The director agreed immediately when you pitched it. So did Jenna, though the look she gave you across the table during that conversation suggested she knew your motivations weren't entirely artistic.
Rachel continues. "For the oral simulation, you'll be under the covers. Jenna, the camera will be on you from the waist up. Your reactions are carrying the scene. We'll do wide and close coverage."
"Got it," Jenna says, all business.
"Physical barriers stay in place. Modesty garments on at all times. Any discomfort, you call cut immediately. Both of you."
You both nod. Rachel seems satisfied and excuses herself to coordinate with the camera department.
Jenna catches your arm as you head toward the set. She leans in close, her mouth near your ear. "You pitched an oral scene. For artistic reasons."
"It serves the story."
"Uh huh." She pats your chest twice and walks ahead of you, ponytail swinging.
The set is the same bedroom from before, dressed differently now, warmer lighting, rumpled sheets, the aftermath of an emotional scene bleeding into a physical one. You run through the first portion of the sequence, the entering, the kissing, the undressing, and it goes smoothly. Three takes, minimal adjustments. Rachel gives notes on hand placement. The director talks about pacing.
Then it's time for the oral scene.
Jenna lies back on the bed in her bra and underwear, a simple nude set that blends with her skin tone. You position yourself between her legs and the crew pulls the covers up and over you, tenting the fabric so it looks natural on camera. Under here it's dark and warm, the cotton muffling the sounds of the set above you. You can see the outline of her body, the flat plane of her stomach, the fabric of her underwear inches from your face.
"Quiet on set!"
"Rolling."
"Speed."
"Action."
Above the covers, Jenna shifts. You hear her exhale, settling into character. Your hands are on her thighs, exactly where Rachel positioned them, and you're supposed to mime, to press your face against the fabric and let Jenna's performance sell the illusion.
Instead, you slide two fingers under the edge of her underwear and pull it to the side.
You feel her thigh tense under your palm. You lean in and drag your tongue along the length of her slit, slow, flat, root to tip, tasting the salt and warmth of her.
Her reaction is instant. Her hips jolt, just slightly, and above the covers you hear her gasp, a real one, raw and unfiltered. You smile against her and do it again, this time circling her clit with the tip of your tongue before dragging back down. She's already getting wet, her body responding before her brain can catch up, and the taste of her deepens on your tongue.
She recovers fast. She's a professional, after all. Whatever shock she felt gets channeled directly into performance, and when she speaks, it's in character but not entirely.
"Oh god. Right there. Just like that, don't stop."
The director doesn't call cut. This is exactly what the scene needs. Her reactions are pitch-perfect, raw and unscripted and completely convincing, because they're real. Every sound coming out of her mouth is genuine, filtered through just enough craft to keep it cinematic.
You work her clit in slow circles, alternating pressure, light and teasing, then firm, then featherlight again. Her thighs tremble on either side of your head. Under the covers, away from every camera and every pair of eyes, you grip her hip with one hand and hold her steady while your tongue traces patterns against her.
"That feels so good." Her breathing is audible, even through the fabric above you. "Please don't stop. Oh my god, please."
She's getting wetter. Significantly wetter. You can feel it against your chin, slick and warm, coating your lips every time you press closer. There's something about the context, the cameras rolling, the crew watching, the boom mic picking up every breathy syllable she utters, that's doing something to her. The exhibitionism of it. The knowledge that she's being eaten out in front of twenty people and not a single one of them knows it.
You flatten your tongue and drag it through her folds, bottom to top, then seal your lips around her clit and suck gently. Her hand comes down on top of the covers and grabs what she can find, bunching the fabric in her fist. Through the cotton you feel her knuckles pressing against the top of your head.
"Oh fuck. Just like that. You feel so good, baby, don't stop."
Her hips are rocking now, subtle movements that read as performance from outside but feel urgent against your mouth. She's grinding against your tongue, chasing the friction, and you let her, matching her rhythm, giving her exactly what she's asking for. Your hands slide under her thighs and grip them, spreading her open a fraction wider, and you push your tongue inside her, curling it, tasting her deep.
"Oh my god." Louder now. Her stomach is heaving above you, quick shallow breaths that make the covers rise and fall. "Oh my god, that's... fuck. Fuck, that's so good."
The crew is dead silent. You can picture them behind the monitors, watching Jenna's face contort with pleasure, thinking she deserves an award for this performance. And she does. Just not for the reasons they think.
You pull back to her clit and work it in rapid, focused strokes, the tip of your tongue flicking back and forth across the swollen bud. Her thighs clamp against your ears and her hips buck up off the mattress, and you hear her moan, long and broken and completely uncontrolled, the kind of sound that can't be manufactured.
She cums against your mouth with a full-body shudder, her pussy pulsing under your lips, wet and hot and clenching around nothing. You feel the contractions against your tongue as you keep licking her through it, gentler now, easing her down, and she's whimpering above the covers, both hands fisting the sheets, her thighs shaking uncontrollably on either side of your head.
"Cut!"
The word barely registers through the fabric muffling your ears. You slow down, pull back, wipe your mouth and chin on the inside of your arm. Your face is slick. You take a breath and rearrange her underwear carefully, smoothing it back into place, then lie still for a second, composing yourself.
"That was incredible." The director's excitement is obvious even from under the covers. "Jenna, that was absolutely phenomenal. The raw emotion, the vulnerability. We don't need another take. That was perfect."
You hear scattered applause from the crew. Jenna laughs above you, and even muffled, you can hear the shakiness in it, the aftershock of what just happened still trembling through her.
You wait another few seconds, willing your erection to cooperate. It doesn't. You slide out from under the covers on the opposite side of the bed from the crew, grab your robe off the chair in one motion, and pull it on before anyone gets a clear look. You tie it loosely and walk around to Jenna's side of the set, where she's sitting up, pulling a robe over her own shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed pink. Her eyes are slightly glazed.
"Great scene," you tell her, completely casual. "Really committed performance."
She looks at you. Her jaw tightens, and for a second you think she might say something incriminating, but she catches herself. "Thanks. You too. Very, uh. Very convincing under there."
"Tried my best."
"Yeah." She clears her throat. "I could tell."
You walk away before your expression gives anything up, grabbing a water bottle from the craft services table and taking a long drink. Across the set, you catch her watching you. She mouths something at you, two syllables, and even from this distance you can read them clearly: You're dead.
You grin and take another sip of water.
Hours later, long after wrap, your phone lights up on the nightstand.
you're a fucking psychopath. you know that right?
You started it
i started it?? i gave you a little handjob under a blanket. you ATE ME OUT on camera. in front of the entire crew. i came on your face while the boom guy was three feet away
And you loved every second of it
A long pause. The typing indicator appears, disappears, appears again.
...that's not the point
So you did love it
i'm going to get you back so hard you won't be able to walk straight
Looking forward to it
you should be scared
Goodnight, Jenna
this isn't over. not even close
You set the phone down and stare at the ceiling, smiling in the dark. You wouldn't expect anything less from her.
—
You barely have coffee in your system when a PA finds you outside the breakfast tent and tells you there's a press commitment. Nobody mentioned it last night. Nobody cleared it with your schedule. But apparently Variety locked in a joint interview for the film's leads, and the producers want it done before today's call time.
They walk you to a conference room on the hotel's second floor that's been hastily converted into an interview setup. Two chairs angled toward each other, a third for the reporter, a camera on a tripod, soft lighting that someone clearly spent fifteen minutes arguing about. Jenna is already seated, legs crossed, hair freshly done, dressed like she didn't just roll out of your bed two hours ago. She gives you a polite smile as you sit down next to her. Professional. Friendly. Not a trace of the woman who came on your tongue yesterday afternoon.
The reporter is a woman in her thirties named Claire, warm and sharp in equal measure, with a recorder on her knee and a notepad she never actually looks at.
"So let's start with the characters. Without spoiling too much, what can you tell us about the dynamic between them?"
Jenna jumps in first. "They're complicated in the best way. There's this incredible tension between wanting to protect each other and wanting to be honest. My character is the one who pushes for honesty, even when it's terrifying. His character thinks he's protecting her by keeping distance, but really he's just scared."
Claire turns to you. "And your take?"
"She nailed it. My character operates under this idea that love means sacrifice, that keeping someone safe means keeping them away from you. He learns the hard way that's not how it works. Jenna's character is the one who breaks that open."
"This is your first major film role. How has that experience been?"
You lean back slightly. "Honestly? It's surreal. I come from theater. Small stages, fifty people in the audience if you're lucky, changing costumes behind a curtain that's barely a curtain. Walking onto a set this size, with this crew, this cast, this script... it rewires your brain a little. Everything is bigger. The scope of what's possible is just completely different."
"And working with Jenna specifically? She's obviously well established in the industry."
"It's been incredible. I'm not going to sit here and pretend I wasn't nervous on day one, because I absolutely was. But she made it easy. She's generous as an actor. She gives you everything in a scene and expects you to match it, which forces you to be better. I've learned more in the past few weeks than I did in years of training."
Jenna tilts her head toward you with a grin. "He's being modest. He showed up on day one and held his own. That doesn't happen often, especially with someone new to this scale of production. We became friends pretty quickly, actually. He's a great colleague, very easy to work with, and I think the chemistry reads on screen because it's genuine."
"Any teases about what audiences can expect?"
You glance at Jenna. She glances back. There's a micro-second of shared amusement that nobody else in the room would catch.
"People are going to love this movie," Jenna says simply. "The script is something special. The performances are something special. I'm really proud of what we're making."
"What she said." You nod. "I think this one's going to surprise people."
Claire asks a few more follow-up questions to conclude the interview, then thanks you both, the camera stops rolling, and you shake hands and head your separate ways. In the hallway outside the conference room, Jenna falls into step beside you.
"Very easy to work with," you repeat, deadpan.
"You are. When your tongue isn't between my legs during a take." She peels off toward hair and makeup without looking back.
The filming day is lighter than usual. Two dialogue scenes, both interior, both relatively contained. You finish your coverage quickly and spend the downtime reviewing tomorrow's pages. But every time you look up from the script, Jenna is somewhere in your peripheral vision. Leaning against a lighting rig, sitting on the arm of a director's chair, standing by the monitors with a coffee cup. And she's watching you. Not constantly, not obviously, but enough. These brief, loaded glances that land on you and linger a beat too long before she looks away.
She's planning something.
The director calls wrap three hours ahead of schedule, and a few of the guys from the cast suggest hitting the hotel gym. You spend an hour there, running through a basic circuit, nothing intense, enough to burn off some of the restless energy that's been building all day. You keep your phone in your pocket and it stays quiet. No texts from her. That's almost more unsettling than the glances.
You skip the gym showers. You've never liked them, the fluorescent lighting, the communal tiles, the forced small talk while everyone's wet. You'd rather walk back to your room and use your own bathroom.
You swipe your keycard and push the door open, already pulling your earbuds out, and stop.
Jenna is lying on your bed. Completely naked. On her stomach, chin propped in one hand, ankles crossed in the air behind her, like she's been waiting for a while and got comfortable doing it. Her body is small and golden under the warm glow of the bedside lamp, the curve of her spine dipping into the swell of her ass. A cigarette burns between the fingers of her free hand, ash tipping into the tray balanced on your pillow.
"Hey."
You close the door behind you. "How did you get in here?"
"Maria. The housekeeper on this floor? Lovely woman. I told her I left my charger in my boyfriend's room and gave her a really convincing pout. She opened it with the master key." She takes a drag, exhaling a lazy plume toward the ceiling. "I also tipped her forty bucks, so she's not going to mention it."
Your eyes travel down the bed. There's a dark stain on the fitted sheet between her hips and knees, a wet patch roughly the size of your palm, the fabric still damp and slightly darker than the rest. On the nightstand, next to the ceramic ashtray and her phone, sits a small pink vibrator, glossy and recently used.
"You took too long at the gym," she says, following your gaze without an ounce of shame. "I got bored. So I got started."
"You came on my bed."
"Twice, actually." She rolls onto her side, completely unselfconscious, her body on display from collarbone to toes. "The second one was really good. I was thinking about yesterday."
"Of course you were."
"Come here."
You set your gym bag on the floor. "I just worked out. I'm disgusting. Let me shower first."
"No." She stubs the cigarette out in the tray and pushes it aside, her gaze tracking down your body, your damp tank top clinging to your chest, the sweat still visible on your arms and neck. "I want you like this."
Something in the way she says it makes your skin prickle. You pull your phone from your shorts pocket and set it on the desk by the window. Your tank top comes off over your head and drops to the carpet. You toe off your sneakers one at a time, kicking them toward the wall. She's watching every movement, her eyes dark, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
You climb onto the bed and she's on you immediately, her hands grabbing your shoulders, pulling you down, her mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes like ash and smoke and something sweet like soda. You sink into it, one hand braced on the mattress beside her head, and she kisses you like she's been thinking about this for hours, which she clearly has.
Her lips trail from your mouth down to your jaw, to your neck. You feel her tongue drag a hot, wet line along the tendon where sweat has collected, and she licks it off you. Slowly. Savoring it.
"You're actually depraved," you mutter.
She pulls back, licking her lips. "You'd do the same thing to me and you know it."
Her skin is warm and slightly tacky, a thin layer of sweat from her solo session still clinging to her. You lean in and run your tongue across her cheekbone, tasting salt and the faint residue of whatever moisturizer she uses, and she laughs, bright and surprised.
"See? Depraved recognizes depraved."
"Shut up."
You kiss her again, deeper, her tongue sliding against yours, and she wraps her arms around your neck and pulls until you're fully on top of her. You break the kiss long enough to roll off the bed and strip the rest of the way, shoving your shorts and boxer briefs down in one motion. She props herself up on her elbows and watches with open appreciation, her eyes lingering on your cock, already half-hard and thickening fast.
"Come here." You reach for her, one hand extended.
She takes it, and you don't let her climb off the bed gracefully. You grip her wrist and pull, catching her under the thighs with your other arm as she slides off the edge, and you lift her. Clean off the mattress, straight into the air. Her legs wrap around your waist on instinct, her arms locking around your neck, and she lets out a sharp gasp that melts into a laugh.
"Oh my god." She tightens her grip with her thighs, her wet center pressed against your stomach. "Show off."
You hold her there, her weight nothing in your arms, her naked body wrapped around you, and she looks down at you with flushed cheeks and that grin that started all of this.
You adjust your grip, both hands cupping the curve of her ass, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and her weight settles naturally against you. She reaches between your bodies. Her fingers find your cock, stiff and pressed against the inside of her thigh, and she angles it upward, lining the head against her entrance. She's still soaked from the vibrator, from the two orgasms she gave herself on your sheets, and when the tip nudges against her slit the slickness is immediate.
"Go slow," she whispers, and then grins. "Just kidding."
You pull her down onto you.
Her body sinks, gravity and your grip doing the work, and your cock slides into her in one long, unbroken stroke. Her back arches away from you, her head tipping back, and her nails bite into the muscles of your shoulders as she takes all of you. She's impossibly tight from this angle, her pussy stretched around your shaft, the walls gripping you with a pressure that makes your teeth clench.
"Oh fuck." Her legs tighten around your waist. "Oh, that's deep. That's really deep."
You don't give her time to adjust. You lift her, arms flexing, pulling her up until just the tip remains inside, and then you bring her back down. Hard. The impact forces a sharp breath out of her and her whole body jolts in your arms, her breasts pressing against your chest. You do it again. And again. Finding a rhythm that's part pull, part drop, her weight doing half the work as you bounce her on your cock.
She's so small. That's what keeps hitting you. Your hands span nearly the entire width of her hips. When you lift her, her feet leave your back entirely, dangling in the air for a split second before her legs clamp back around you. She feels like nothing in your arms, compact and light, and you can move her exactly where you want her with minimal effort. Up, down, tilting her hips forward to change the angle, pulling her flush against your pelvis and grinding her there.
"You're throwing me around like I weigh nothing." She's panting against your neck, her breath hot and uneven. "This is extremely hot, just so you know."
"You're basically pocket-sized."
"Rude." She bites your earlobe. "Don't stop."
You shift your stance wider, planting your feet for stability, and pick up the pace. Each thrust is a full stroke, pulling her up until the head catches against her entrance, then slamming her back down. Her pussy clenches around you with every downstroke, that involuntary squeeze that tells you the angle is hitting her exactly right.
She lifts her head from your shoulder and looks at you, her face flushed, her eyes glazed, hair falling across her forehead in damp strands. "Harder."
You give it to her harder. Your fingers dig into the meat of her ass, spreading her slightly, and you drive up into her with more force, using your hips and your arms in tandem. She cries out, a punched-out sound that bounces off the hotel walls, and her arms wrap tighter around your neck.
"Use me." She pants it into the space between your mouths. "Come on. I can take it."
You readjust your grip, one arm hooked under her thigh, the other banded across the small of her back, and you start fucking her like she asked. Like she's weightless. Like she exists solely for this purpose, a tight, warm, perfect thing to slide in and out of. You lift her and drop her in fast, punishing strokes. Her body jolts with each one, her tits bouncing against your chest, her mouth falling open. She can't do anything from this position. She can't set the pace, can't control the depth, can't brace herself. All she can do is hold on and take what you give her, and the realization of that lights something up behind her eyes.
"Yes. Fuck, yes, just like that,” she moans. "You're so fucking strong. Don't put me down."
"Wasn't planning on it."
You carry her two steps to the left and press her back against the wall, using the surface for leverage. The new angle pins her between your body and the cool plaster. With the wall supporting part of her weight, you can thrust even harder, your hips snapping up into her in rapid, deep strokes that make the framed print beside her head rattle against its hook.
Her head falls back against the wall and she stares at the ceiling, mouth open, chest heaving. "Oh god. Oh my god, you're going to make me cum again."
"Already?"
"Shut up. It's your fault." She squeezes her eyes shut and her whole body tenses in your arms, her thighs clamping, her stomach going rigid. "Please, don't fucking stop."
You keep the same pace, the same depth, driving into her with a consistency that you feel in your shoulders and forearms. She's so wet that each stroke is frictionless, your cock gliding in and out of her with ease, and the slickness has spread down the insides of her thighs, coating your skin where her legs grip you.
Her breathing fractures. Short, sharp inhales that don't fully form before the next thrust forces the air out of her. Her nails rake across your back, dragging red lines from your shoulder blades to the middle of your spine, and her legs start to shake around your waist. You feel her pussy tightening, that telltale flutter that starts in pulses and builds to a sustained clench, and you know she's right there.
"Look at me," you tell her.
She drops her chin and meets your gaze, and her eyes are barely focused, dark and wet and somewhere far beyond rational thought. You thrust up into her once more, burying yourself to the hilt, grinding the base of your cock against her clit, and she shatters.
The orgasm rips through her in waves. Her pussy clamps down on your cock so hard it almost hurts, rhythmic contractions that squeeze and release in rapid succession. Her mouth opens in a silent scream that finds its sound a second later, a ragged, broken moan that she muffles by sinking her teeth into your shoulder. Her body convulses in your arms, shaking, trembling, her heels drumming against your lower back as she rides it out.
You hold her through it. Stay buried inside her. Feel every pulse and shudder as it moves through her body like current through a wire. She clings to you, shaking, her forehead pressed against your neck, her breath coming in wet, shuddering gasps against your skin.
When the tremors finally ease, you carry her to the bed and lower her gently onto the mattress. She lands on her back, boneless, her arms splayed above her head, her chest rising and falling in deep, recovering breaths. Her thighs are glistening. Her cheeks are flushed so deeply the freckles have almost disappeared into the color.
"That." She swallows, licking her lips. "That was fucking fantastic. Where have you been hiding that?"
"Had some motivation."
"No kidding." She laughs, still breathless, and pushes a hand through her sweat-damp hair. "My legs are actually numb. I can't feel my legs."
"Take your time."
She lies there for a moment, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling with this blissed-out half-smile. Then something shifts in her expression. That familiar spark. She rolls over on the mattress, tucking her knees under her until she's on all fours. She arches her back, dropping her chest toward the sheets, and her ass lifts into the air, round and tight and perfectly presented.
She looks at you over her shoulder, one cheek pressed against the pillow, her dark hair fanned out beneath her. Her eyes are hooded and heavy, still glowing from the orgasm, and the smile she gives you is equal parts invitation and dare.
"Whatever you want, babe. I mean it. Anything.”
You take a moment before you touch her. She's on all fours in front of you, her back arched, her knees spread just wide enough that you can see everything. The lamplight catches the slickness between her thighs, her pussy swollen and flushed from the orgasm, still glistening. You settle behind her on your knees and place both hands on her ass, palming the round curve of each cheek, feeling the firm muscle underneath the softness. She's so small that your hands cover her almost entirely, your thumbs meeting in the middle, pressing into the dimples at the base of her spine.
You spread her slightly, just enough, and bring your right hand lower. Your middle and index fingers trace down through the wetness coating her inner thighs, gathering it, sliding upward through her folds until they find her entrance. You push both fingers inside her, slow, and her body accepts them easily, her pussy still loose and slick from being fucked. She sighs into the pillow, a low, satisfied sound, and her hips press back against your hand.
You curl your fingers inside her, hooking them forward, dragging along the front wall, and settle into a steady rhythm. In and out, slow and deep, your knuckles pressing against her entrance on each stroke. She's soaked. You can feel it running down your palm, pooling in the creases of your fingers.
Then you lean forward and press your tongue flat against her asshole.
Her entire body locks up. Every muscle, all at once, and she sucks in a sharp breath that she holds for a full two seconds before releasing it in a shuddering exhale. "Oh my god." Her fingers claw at the sheets in front of her. "Oh my god, okay."
You keep your fingers moving inside her pussy and drag your tongue in a slow circle around the tight ring of muscle. She tastes clean, warm, the faint salt of sweat and nothing else, and you feel her clench under your tongue before gradually, incrementally, relaxing. You flatten your tongue and lick a broad, slow stripe from just above where your fingers are buried all the way up, and she drops her forehead to the mattress and groans.
"That's... I wasn't expecting that."
You don't respond. You let your mouth do the talking. The tip of your tongue traces the rim, circling once, twice, then pressing gently against the center. Not pushing inside, just pressure, steady and warm, while your fingers maintain their rhythm below. The dual sensation hits her from both ends and you feel it in the way her thighs start to tremble, the way her hips can't decide whether to push back against your tongue or grind down onto your fingers.
"Fuck." She turns her head to the side, cheek pressed flat against the pillow, and you can see her profile, her mouth open, her eyes squeezed shut. "That's so much. Both at the same time, it's so much."
You alternate between flat, broad licks and pointed, focused ones, varying the pressure, keeping her guessing. When you press the tip of your tongue firmly against the center and hold it there, she whimpers and her back dips lower, pushing her ass higher into your face. When you pull back and trace featherlight circles around the rim, she exhales through her teeth and her pussy clenches around your fingers.
You crook your fingers inside her, rubbing that spot on the front wall, and at the same time seal your lips around her asshole and suck gently. Her hips buck backward, grinding against your face, and a sound comes out of her that's somewhere between a gasp and a sob.
"Oh fuck. Oh, daddy, you're such a pervert."
Your fingers still for a fraction of a second. You pull your mouth back just enough to speak, your lips still brushing against her skin.
"Daddy is new."
She laughs, breathless and shaky, her face still buried in the pillow. "Felt right in the moment. Do you like it?"
"I could get used to it."
"Good." She pushes her ass back against you. "Then get back to work, daddy."
You press your tongue back against her and she melts, her spine curving, her shoulders dropping to the mattress. You eat her ass with the same patience and attention you gave her pussy on set yesterday, mapping every reaction, cataloguing what makes her gasp and what makes her go quiet, what makes her grind back and what makes her pull away just slightly before pushing into it harder. Your fingers pick up the pace inside her, curling on each instroke, the wet sound of it filling the space between her moans. She's dripping onto your palm, down your wrist, the slickness coating everything. You can feel her pulse around your fingers, rapid and strong, and every time your tongue presses against her asshole that pulse stutters and races.
"You're going to ruin me." She says it into the pillow, muffled but audible. "You know that? I'm never going to be normal after this."
"Were you normal before?"
"Fair point." She gasps as you push your tongue harder against her rim, her hands fisting the sheets above her head. "Oh god, right there. Right there, don't move."
You hold the position. Tongue flat against her asshole, steady pressure, while your fingers work her pussy in deep, curling strokes. She's rocking between the two sensations, her hips moving in a figure-eight, and you can feel the tension building in her body like a spring compressing. Her thighs are shaking so badly her knees keep sliding on the sheets.
"You eat ass like you've got something to prove." She's trying to be clever but her delivery is fractured, each phrase broken by a breath or a shudder. "Where was this energy during the interview this morning?"
"Saving it for you."
"Lucky me." The last word dissolves into a moan as you spread her cheeks wider and push the tip of your tongue past the ring of muscle, just the first fraction of penetration, and she drops flat onto her stomach with a sound that might be your name or might be profanity. You follow her down, keeping your mouth sealed against her, your fingers still buried inside her cunt, and you feel her whole body vibrating beneath you. You pull your tongue back to the rim and resume the circling, and she makes a frustrated sound, half-laugh half-groan, her hips grinding against the mattress.
"You're teasing me now. You're actually teasing me."
"Feels different from this side, doesn't it?"
"I hate you." She doesn't sound like she hates you. She sounds like she's losing her mind. "I genuinely hate you right now."
You respond by adding a third finger. You slide your ring finger alongside the other two and push all three inside her, stretching her wider, and simultaneously press your tongue flat and firm against her asshole. Her back bows off the mattress and she lets out a strangled cry, her hands flying back to grab at your hair, your face, anything she can reach.
"Oh fuck. Oh my god, daddy, that's too much. That's so much."
You don't let up. Three fingers pumping inside her, your tongue laving her ass in slow, thorough strokes, and she's writhing beneath you, caught between trying to escape the intensity and pushing back for more. The sheets are damp under her hips. Her skin gleams with sweat. Every sound she makes is rawer than the last.
"I need you inside me." She says it suddenly, desperately, her hand reaching back to grab your wrist. "Please. I can't take any more of this, I need your cock. Right now."
You give her one more long, slow lick, root to tip, your tongue dragging from her pussy all the way up over her asshole, and she shudders so hard her teeth chatter.
"Please, daddy." She looks back at you over her shoulder, and her face is wrecked. Flushed, sweaty, mascara slightly smudged, her lips bitten red and swollen. "Put it in me. I need it."
You pull your fingers out of her and she whimpers at the loss, her pussy clenching around nothing. You straighten up on your knees behind her, your cock aching, harder than you've ever been in your life, the head flushed dark and slick with precum. She arches her back and lifts her hips off the mattress, presenting herself, and the sight of her from behind, her pussy glistening, her ass still wet from your mouth, her thighs trembling with need, is enough to make your grip tighten on her hips until you leave marks of your fingers on her skin.
You run your hands over the curve of her ass, thumbs tracing the crease where it meets her thighs, and you let the question hang in the air: "Where do you want it?"
She pushes her hips back toward you, impatient. "You know where."
"I do." You grip her hip with one hand and drag the head of your cock through her folds, collecting the wetness there, nudging against her pussy but not entering. "But I want to hear you say it."
She groans into the pillow, half-frustration, half-arousal, and turns her head to look at you over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed dark, her hair a tangled mess stuck to her neck and forehead. She holds your gaze and doesn't blink. "I want you to fuck my ass."
"Good girl."
Something ripples through her when you say it. A visible shudder that starts at her shoulders and rolls all the way down her spine. You press the head of your cock against her asshole, the tight ring of muscle still slick from your tongue, and hold there. She tenses beneath you, instinctive, and then forces herself to exhale, her body relaxing in stages.
"I've used a plug before," she says, her fingers gripping the pillow in front of her. "So it's not like... just go slow at first. I'll be fine." You push forward. The head meets resistance, firm and tight, her body fighting the intrusion for a second before it yields. The tip slides past the ring and her breath catches, sharp, and her back arches deeper. You stop. Give her a second. She's gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles have gone white. "Keep going. Don't stop."
You feed her another inch. Then another. She's impossibly tight around you, tighter than her pussy, a dense, squeezing pressure that wraps around your shaft from every direction. The heat is different here, deeper, and you can feel every fraction of movement magnified, every slight push registering across your entire body. You go slow, giving her time to adjust, watching the way her shoulders rise and fall with each controlled breath.
"Talk to me," you tell her. "How does it feel?"
"Full." She exhales through her teeth. "Really, really full. You're bigger than the plug."
"Should I stop?"
"If you stop, I'll kill you."
You push the rest of the way in. Your hips press flush against her ass and you bottom out, your entire length buried inside her, and you both go still. She lets out a long, shaking breath that turns into something close to a laugh at the end.
"Holy shit. Okay. That's... yeah. That's all of you."
"You good?"
"Give me ten seconds."
You give her ten seconds. You stay perfectly still, your hands resting on her hips, and you feel her body adjusting around you, the tightness easing by fractions, the muscle relaxing and gripping and relaxing again. She shifts her knees wider on the mattress and drops her chest lower, changing the angle, and you feel the pressure redistribute along your shaft.
"Okay." She nods against the pillow. "Move."
You pull back, slow, and the drag is incredible. Her ass grips you on the outstroke, a tight sleeve of friction that makes your jaw clench. You push back in, just as slow, and she releases a low, guttural sound into the pillow. You do it again. And again. Long, measured strokes, pulling nearly all the way out before sliding back to the hilt, giving her time to feel every inch of it.
"Oh, that's good." She's gripping the pillow with both hands now, her face turned to the side. "That's really good. Keep doing that."
You settle into the rhythm. Your hands tighten on her hips and you fuck her ass with those same deep, unhurried strokes, building a pace that lets the intensity compound instead of exploding all at once. The tightness is relentless. Every thrust feels like pushing into a fist that squeezes back, hot and slick from spit that you spread there with your tongue.
After a few minutes you reach forward and gather her hair in your fist. Not yanking, just collecting it, wrapping it once around your hand and pulling with steady tension until her head lifts off the pillow and her neck arches back. She moans at the pull, her back bowing into a deeper curve that changes the angle of penetration.
"Harder." She reaches back with one hand and grabs your thigh, her nails pressing in. "You can go harder."
You pick up the pace. The strokes shorten, quicken, your hips snapping forward with more force. Your grip on her hair tightens and you use it as leverage, pulling her back onto your cock as you thrust forward, and the combined force makes her cry out.
"Fuck. Yes, daddy, just like that. Pull my hair harder."
You pull harder. Her back arches until you can see the line of her jaw, the column of her throat, and she's pushing back to meet each thrust, her ass slapping against your pelvis. She's clenching tighter, her body responding to the escalation, and you can feel the pressure building at the base of your cock, heavy and insistent.
"You're taking it so well." Your breathing is ragged. "Look at you."
"I know, I was made for this." She's panting, grinning, her eyes half-shut. "Fuck me like you mean it."
You release her hair and grab both hips, pulling her back onto you with each thrust, setting a pace that's just below brutal. Fast, deep strokes that fill her completely, and she buries her face in the pillow and stops trying to form sentences. Her moans are continuous, muffled by the cotton, rising in pitch with each impact. Her hand slides beneath her body. You can see her arm moving, her fingers reaching between her legs, and she starts rubbing her clit while you fuck her ass. The combined stimulation hits her almost immediately. Her thighs start shaking, that familiar tremor, and her moans take on a desperate, frantic edge.
"I'm close." Her fingers work faster between her legs. "Oh god, I'm going to cum with your cock in my ass. That's so filthy."
"That's the general idea."
"Don't stop. Please, daddy, don't stop. I'm right there."
You maintain the pace, driving into her with steady, relentless force, and you feel the exact moment it hits her. Her entire body seizes. Her ass clamps down on your cock so hard your vision whites out for a second, and a long, ragged moan tears out of her, raw and uncontrolled, her face pressed into the mattress. Her hips buck and twist against you, her pussy and her ass contracting in overlapping waves, and her legs give out completely. She collapses flat onto the mattress and you follow her down, your cock still buried in her ass, her body pulsing and clenching around you in rhythmic spasms.
You're close. The tightness of her orgasm, the pressure squeezing your shaft in those involuntary contractions, pushes you right to the edge. You thrust into her twice more, three times, your full weight pressing her into the mattress, and the release builds from the base of your spine and erupts. You cum deep inside her ass. The first pulse is thick and heavy, a rush of heat flooding into her, and you groan against the back of her neck as the second follows, and the third. Your hips grind against her, pushing as deep as you can go, and each spasm pumps more into her. You can feel it, the slickness building inside her, the pressure of your own cum filling the tight space, and she lets out a soft, satisfied moan beneath you.
"Oh my god." Her face is turned to the side, eyes closed, lips parted. "I can feel it. There's so much."
You keep grinding, slow now, riding the last aftershocks, each diminishing pulse adding to what's already inside her. Your body shudders once, twice, and then the tension drains out of you instantly. You rest your forehead between her shoulder blades and breathe.
"Don't move yet," she whispers. "Stay."
You stay. Your cock softens slowly inside her, and you can feel the warmth of your own cum surrounding it, thick and liquid. After a minute you start to ease out, pulling back gently, and she winces, her hands gripping the sheets. You withdraw inch by inch until the head slips free, and you watch a thick line of cum follow it out, trailing from her asshole in a slow, viscous thread that breaks and drips onto the sheet between her thighs.
"Jesus." She reaches back and touches herself lightly, her fingers coming away slick and white. "You came so much in there. I can feel it running out of me."
"Good?"
"So good. It's so warm." She squeezes her thighs together and shivers. "I can feel it all the way inside." More cum leaks from her as she shifts, pooling on the already-ruined sheets, and she laughs softly at the mess. You lie down on your back beside her and she immediately rolls toward you, resting her head on your chest, one arm draped across your stomach. Her body is slick with sweat, warm and small against yours, and you can feel her heartbeat gradually slowing where her ribs press against your side.
"Stay here for a while." She nuzzles into your chest. "Don't get up yet."
"I desperately need a shower. I was covered in gym sweat before any of this happened."
"You can do it later. We'll shower together. It'll be fun. I'll wash your back and everything."
"You going to wash my back or are you going to start something in the shower?"
"Both, probably." She traces a lazy circle on your stomach with one finger. "Is that a yes?"
"That's a yes."
She shifts, tilting her chin up to rest on your chest, and looks at you. Her eyes are soft, stripped of the mischief and the bravado, with something that sits outside the boundaries of what you two have agreed this is.
"What?" you ask.
"Nothing." She holds your gaze for another beat, then drops her eyes and presses her lips against your chest, a slow, gentle kiss right over your sternum. "Hug me."
You hug her and don't say anything, because nothing you could say would be better than this.
—
The routine on the film set becomes your new life. You shoot six days a week, sometimes seven. You eat catered lunches in folding chairs and run lines in hallways and fall asleep with the script on your chest. And Jenna is there through all of it, constant as gravity, sitting cross-legged on your hotel bed at midnight picking apart tomorrow's scene, stealing bites of your food at craft services, pressing her cold feet against your calves under the sheets at three in the morning.
Neither of you names it. You tried once, half-asleep, mumbling something about what this actually is, and she put her finger over your lips and told you to shut up and go to sleep. So you did. And the not-naming becomes its own kind of agreement, a shape you both move around without ever drawing the outline. You decide, privately, to wait. Let filming end. Let the bubble pop. See what survives outside the controlled environment of hotel rooms and early call times and forced proximity. If it's real, it'll still be real in Los Angeles, in the daylight, without the excuse of a shared project holding it together. If it's not, then at least you'll know.
Filming wraps on a Tuesday. There's a small party, drinks and tearful hugs and exchanged phone numbers. Jenna finds you on the edge of it, leans into you for a second, and says she'll see you back home. She flies out the next morning. You fly out two days later.
Los Angeles absorbs you both. You go back to your apartment in Silver Lake, Jenna goes back to whatever world she inhabits, the one with publicists and stylists and a calendar managed by three different people. You text constantly. Memes at two in the morning. Long voice notes dissecting movies you've watched. Brief, loaded messages at night that don't always lead anywhere but always carry the same undercurrent. You meet up when you can, always discreet. Her car in your apartment's underground garage after dark. A corner booth at a restaurant in Pasadena where nobody looks twice. A weekend at a rental house in Ojai where she wore your t-shirt for two days straight and you didn't leave the bedroom until checkout.
But she's busy. Series commitments, press for another project, meetings that fill her days from seven to seven. You're busy too, auditions and callbacks and a recurring role on a limited series that keeps you occupied but doesn't consume you the way the film did. The gaps between seeing each other stretch from days to weeks. The texts stay warm but the physical distance does what physical distance always does.
Almost two years passes. The premiere arrives on a Friday night in October, and the magnitude of it doesn't fully register until you're standing in a hotel suite getting dressed and your hands won't stop shaking.
This is it. The film you poured everything into, the role that changed the trajectory of your life, about to be projected onto a screen in front of critics and industry people and an audience that's been watching the trailers for months. The trailers performed well, very well, enough to generate the kind of anticipation that makes studios start whispering about awards season. Which only makes the pressure worse.
You see her before she sees you. She's standing at the far end of the arrivals area, surrounded by a small entourage, her publicist adjusting something on her shoulder. And for a second you just stop and look.
Her dress is black, floor-length, with a neckline that plunges to just above her navel, held in place by what seems like sheer architectural will. The fabric clings to her frame and leaves the sides of her breasts exposed, the soft outer curves visible with every slight turn of her torso. Her skin has a luminous quality tonight, enhanced by whatever her makeup team has done, a fine shimmer across her collarbones and shoulders that catches the light in warm flashes.
Her face is the thing that holds you, though. They've highlighted the freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, made them a feature instead of hiding them, and there's a subtle glitter dusted across her eyelids and cheekbones that makes her look like she's been dipped in something celestial. Her hair is pulled back, sleek and low, exposing the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck.
She spots you and her entire face changes. The professional composure cracks and the grin that breaks through is pure, unguarded, the one you haven't seen in months. She crosses the distance between you and wraps her arms around your neck, and you hold her, brief enough for public consumption but tight enough that she feels it.
"You look incredible," you tell her.
"You clean up all right yourself." She straightens your tie with both hands, an unnecessary adjustment that's really just an excuse to touch you. "Are you ready for this?"
"Absolutely not."
"Perfect. Me neither. Let's go."
The red carpet is an assault on every sense. The crowd noise is a wall, hundreds of people pressed against barriers, shouting names, holding phones above their heads. Camera flashes strobe from every direction, publicists guide you from mark to mark. You pose alone first, then Jenna joins you, and her hand finds the small of your back as the photographers call your names.
"Over here! Jenna! To the left! Both of you, center!"
You angle toward the cameras and smile and try to remember everything your media coach told you about posture and angles and where to put your hands. Jenna is effortless beside you, shifting between poses with practiced ease, her body language open and relaxed while yours feels mechanical. The interviews come next. A gauntlet of microphones and cameras and reporters asking variations of the same three questions. You settle into a rhythm, keeping your answers genuine and slightly self-deprecating.
"How does it feel, finally seeing this come to fruition?"
"Surreal, if I'm being honest. I still have to remind myself this is actually happening. The trailers blew up way beyond anything I expected, and knowing that people are actually excited to see this thing we made... it's hard to describe. I just hope the film lives up to what people are expecting."
"And working with Jenna?"
"Best experience of my career. She pushed me every single day. I'm a better actor because of her, no question."
Jenna handles her portion with the same ease she handles everything, charming and articulate and generous with her praise of the cast and crew. She mentions you by name twice, calls you a revelation, and you pretend the heat in your face is from the lights.
Between press stops, in a brief pocket of quiet near the theater entrance, she looks at you. Really looks.
"You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
"Your hands are literally trembling." She takes your right hand in both of hers. "Hey. Look at me." You look at her. The noise of the crowd fades to a blur around the edges. "Once we sit down, it calms down. The lights go off, the movie starts, and it's just the film. That's all it is. And it's a great film." She squeezes your hand. "You're going to be fine. Better than fine."
"What if they hate it?"
"They won't."
"What if they hate me?"
"Impossible." She says it without hesitation, with a certainty that doesn't leave room for argument. "I've seen the cut. You're extraordinary in this. Trust me."
You nod. Squeeze her hand back. She doesn't let go until a PA ushers you both through the theater doors.
The auditorium is enormous, packed to capacity, the kind of venue that makes you feel the size of the moment in your chest. You're guided to your seats by an usher with a flashlight, down toward the front but off to the side, in a section that's slightly recessed from the main block. The seats are plush, the armrests wide, and when you settle in, the lighting is low enough that the faces around you blur into shadow.
Jenna sits beside you. Close. Her knee touches yours, and she doesn't move it. The theater hums with conversation, the low murmur of an audience settling in, and the overhead lights dim in stages.
"See?" she murmurs, leaning toward you. "Better already." The final lights go down. The screen brightens. And in the dark, her hand finds yours again.
The film plays in front of you but you're barely watching it. You've seen the cut twice already in post-production screenings, and the experience of watching yourself on a screen this size, in a room full of strangers, is so profoundly disorienting that your brain keeps sliding off the surface of it. Your performance is up there, enormous and permanent, and the audience is reacting. Laughing where you hoped they'd laugh. Going silent in the places that matter. During the reconciliation scene, the one Jenna improvised, you hear someone two rows back sniffle. Jenna's knee presses harder against yours in the dark.
The oral scene comes on. The one you pitched. On screen, Jenna's face fills the frame, eyes closed, lips parted, and the sounds she makes are raw and intimate and completely real in a way the audience will never fully understand. You feel her shift in her seat beside you. Her pinky hooks around yours on the armrest.
The film moves toward its final act. You know every beat from here, every cut, every line. Jenna leans toward you, her lips brushing your ear, her breath warm in the cold air-conditioned dark.
"Want to get out of here?" You glance at her. The screen light plays across her face in shifting blues and whites. "We know how it ends," she whispers. "And I have more important things I want to do right now."
You should stay. This is your premiere, your first premiere, and leaving before the credits roll is the kind of thing that gets noticed. But her hand is already closing around yours, warm and certain, and the pull of her is stronger than the pull of professionalism.
You nod.
She stands first, keeping low, and you follow. The row is nearly empty on your end, just two seats between you and the aisle, and you slip out in the dark while the score swells on screen. Nobody turns. Nobody notices. Jenna moves quickly in her heels, surprisingly agile, her hand pulling you through the heavy curtain that separates the auditorium from the lobby.
The lobby is deserted. Everyone is inside watching the film. Your footsteps echo on the polished floor as she leads you past the concession stand, past the restrooms, down a corridor that bends away from the main space.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere private." She finds it before you do. A single-occupancy bathroom at the end of the corridor with a yellow maintenance placard hanging from the handle. She tries the door. It opens. The bathroom is clean, small, fluorescent-lit, with a single stall, a sink, and a mirror that spans the wall. "This works." She pulls you inside, flips the lock, and turns to face you.
She kisses you before the lock finishes clicking. Her hands grab your lapels and she pulls you down to her, and even in heels she barely reaches your chin, rising onto her toes to close the last inch. Her mouth is urgent, hungry, tasting like the champagne from the pre-screening reception. You grab her waist and lift her slightly, taking the strain off her calves, and she makes a grateful sound against your lips.
"I missed you." She says it between kisses, her hands moving from your lapels to your neck to your jaw, touching you like she's confirming you're real. "I missed you so much. You have no idea."
"I missed you too." You press your forehead against hers. "Every day. I kept picking up the phone to call you and then talking myself out of it because I didn't want to be that guy."
"You should have been that guy. I wanted you to be that guy." She kisses the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the space below your ear. "I was thinking about you constantly. About us. About what this is."
"I know what it is."
She pulls back enough to look at you. Her eyes are bright, the glitter on her lids catching the harsh bathroom light. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's real. It was always real. I was just too careful to say it."
Something moves through her expression that's too complex to name. She blinks, and for a second you think she might cry, but she swallows it down and the grin reasserts itself.
"We'll talk about it. Properly. Tonight, tomorrow, whenever. But right now..." Her hands drop to your belt. "We need to be quick."
She works the buckle with practiced fingers, pulling the leather free, popping the button, dragging the zipper down. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of your pants and your boxer briefs and pushes them down together until they bunch at your thighs. Your cock springs free, already stiff, flushed and straining from the moment she locked the door.
Jenna lowers herself to a crouch. In that dress, in those heels, on the tile floor of a theater bathroom, she sinks down with a grace that shouldn't be possible. The black fabric pools around her knees. She's eye-level with your cock, and she wraps her fingers around the base and just holds you for a second, looking at it, her thumb tracing the vein that runs along the underside.
"God, I missed this too." She says it to your cock more than to you, her grip tightening, her thumb rubbing slow circles below the head. "I missed how hard you get for me. How thick you feel in my hand."
"It's been a while."
"Too long." She tilts your shaft toward her and presses her lips against the tip, soft, almost chaste, and then parts them and takes the head into her mouth.
The warmth hits you first. Wet, enveloping heat that wraps around the first two inches of your cock as her lips seal and her tongue presses flat against the underside. She holds there, sucking gently, her cheeks hollowing, and the sensation after months of absence is so acute that your hand shoots out and grabs the edge of the sink for support.
She pulls back, letting the head pop free with a wet sound, and looks up at you. Lipstick smeared. Eyes dark. "Sensitive tonight."
"It's been months, Jenna."
"I know. I'm going to take my time." She licks a long, slow stripe from the base of your shaft all the way to the tip, her tongue flat and wet, tracing the underside vein. When she reaches the head she circles it once, twice, the pointed tip of her tongue tracing the ridge, then dips into the slit and licks away the bead of precum that's gathered there. Your fingers tighten on the sink.
She takes you into her mouth again, her lips sliding down the shaft inch by inch. Her tongue works the underside as she goes, pressing and releasing in a rolling motion, and she doesn't stop until your cock hits the back of her throat. She holds there, her nose nearly touching your pelvis, and swallows around you. The constriction of her throat ripples along your length and your knees almost buckle.
She pulls back slowly, dragging her lips tight along the shaft, leaving a thick coat of saliva glistening on your skin. A strand of spit connects her lower lip to your cock as she pulls off, and she breaks it with her tongue, licking it away.
"You taste so good." She strokes you with her fist, slick and twisting, spreading the saliva from base to tip. "I used to think about this when I was on set for the other project. In between takes, just thinking about your cock in my mouth."
"That's a healthy work-life balance."
"Shut up." She grins and takes you back in, bobbing her head in a steady rhythm, her fist following her mouth, stroking what her lips don't cover. The sounds are obscene in the small bathroom, wet and rhythmic, echoing off the tile walls. She varies the pace, sometimes fast and shallow, just working the head with quick, focused sucks, sometimes slow and deep, letting you slide into her throat until her eyes water.
She pulls off and spits on your cock, a thick glob that lands on the head and slides down. Her hand catches it and works it along the entire length, twisting at the base, her thumb pressing into the frenulum on each upstroke. She leans in and sucks one of your balls into her mouth, rolling it gently with her tongue while her fist keeps stroking, and the dual sensation makes your hand leave the sink and grab a fistful of her hair instead.
"Careful with the hair." She releases you with a pop. "It took an hour and a half."
"You're on your knees in a bathroom sucking my dick during your own premiere. I think the hair is a secondary concern."
"Fair." She takes you back into her mouth, deeper than before, and this time she stays down, working her throat around your cock in slow, milking swallows. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, not from distress but from the sheer mechanics of it, and she holds there until her lungs demand air. She pulls off gasping, spit trailing from her lips to your shaft in long, wet strings, and she strokes you through the mess, her hand gliding effortlessly over the slick skin.
She works you like that for another few minutes, alternating between her mouth and her hand. Her lips are swollen and red, her chin wet with saliva, and your cock glistens under the fluorescent light, thoroughly, obscenely wet. She gives you one final, long suck, pulling off with agonizing slowness, her lips tight around the head until the very last second. Then she looks up at you from her crouch on the bathroom floor, this gorgeous woman in a designer gown with spit on her chin and your cock inches from her face, and tilts her head.
"Think you can fuck me without ruining this dress? It's a loaner.”
"It's a beautiful dress." You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, your thumb lingering on her jaw. "I'll be gentle with it."
"You better. It costs more than your car."
"Everything costs more than my car."
She laughs and you're already moving, your hands sliding down her sides, gathering the fabric of her dress and hiking it upward, bunching it at her waist. The material is heavier than it looks, layered and structured, but it cooperates, folding neatly above her hips. Underneath she's wearing a thin black thong, barely anything, the fabric dark against her skin. You hook two fingers under the side and pull it over, exposing her, and she inhales softly through her nose.
You grip her waist and lift her onto the edge of the sink. She lands lightly, her hands bracing on the porcelain rim behind her, and she looks down at the fixture with a skeptical expression. "You think this thing can hold me?"
"Jenna, any sink on earth can hold you. You weigh less than my gym bag."
She gives you a look, that sweet-annoyed face she makes when you say something that's simultaneously a compliment and an insult and she can't decide which one to react to. "You're lucky I'm attracted to you right now."
"I know."
You step between her legs and she opens them wider, her heels hooking behind your thighs. Your cock nudges against her, slick from her mouth, and you guide yourself to her entrance with one hand. She's wet already, the folds slick and warm when the head presses against them, and you push in slowly.
The first inch makes both of you exhale at the same time. She's tight, tighter than you remember, months of absence resetting the familiarity, and the heat of her wraps around you in a way that makes your vision swim. You slide deeper, inch by inch, watching her face as it shifts from anticipation to fullness to that particular expression she gets when you're all the way inside her, the one where her lips part and her eyelids flutter and she looks like she's forgotten how to breathe.
"Fuck." You bottom out and hold there, your hips flush against her. "I missed this."
"Yeah?" She wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you closer. "How much?"
"Enough to follow you into a bathroom at my own premiere."
"Our premiere." She clenches around you and your jaw locks. "Don't forget that."
You start to move. Slow at first, pulling back halfway and pressing in again, relearning the shape of her, the way her body grips and releases, the angle that makes her breath catch. The sink holds steady beneath her, bolted firmly to the wall, and she leans back against the mirror, her shoulder blades touching the glass. The position tilts her hips upward, and each thrust slides along her front wall in a way that makes her stomach tighten visibly.
Her legs wrap tighter around you and you pick up the pace, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the small bathroom, bouncing off tile and porcelain. Her dress is bunched at her waist in a ring of expensive black fabric, her thighs bare and spread, and the sight of her like this, done up for a premiere with her pussy stretched around your cock on a bathroom sink, is dirty in a way that makes your blood burn.
"Harder." She grabs the back of your neck. "We don't have all night."
Your hands grip the edge of the sink on either side of her hips and you drive into her with more force, each thrust pushing her back against the mirror. Her reflection moves behind her, fragmented, she pulls you into a kiss and it's wet from the start, messy, her mouth open and hungry, tongue sliding against yours. Spit smears between your lips as the angle shifts with each thrust, the kiss breaking and reforming, her teeth catching your bottom lip, your tongue pushing deep into her mouth.
You pull back from the kiss and look at her face. The glitter on her cheekbones catches the harsh light, tiny sparks of gold and champagne scattered across her skin, and before you think about it you lean in and drag your tongue across her cheek, slow and flat, tasting the mineral tang of makeup and the salt of her skin beneath it. The glitter transfers to your tongue, gritty and metallic.
"Hey." She pushes at your chest. "That took forty-five minutes to apply."
"Tastes expensive." You lick her other cheekbone, a long stripe from jaw to temple, and she squirms beneath you, laughing even as her pussy clenches around your cock.
"You're literally ruining my makeup right now. There are going to be photos after this."
"Tell them it's an artistic choice."
"I hate you." She's grinning, her face streaked where your tongue has been, the carefully blended glitter now smeared and patchy. She grabs your tie and pulls you back into a kiss that tells you exactly how much she doesn't hate you.
You thrust into her harder and her back arches, pressing her chest forward, and the neckline of the dress shifts. The fabric was barely containing her to begin with, and the motion is enough to push it past the tipping point. You help it along, hooking two fingers into the edge and tugging it down until her breasts spill free, small and round, her nipples stiff and dark.
You cup them both, one in each hand, squeezing, feeling the firm weight of them against your palms while you fuck her. Your thumbs roll across her nipples and she gasps into your mouth, her arms tightening around your neck. You pinch one between your thumb and forefinger, just hard enough, and her hips jerk.
"That's good." She presses her chest into your hands. "Squeeze them harder."
You do, kneading her breasts with a firmness that borders on rough, your fingers sinking into the soft tissue while your cock drives into her in steady, deep strokes. She arches into every thrust, her heels digging into the backs of your thighs, and the mirror behind her fogs slightly where her skin contacts the glass.
Her breathing changes. You know the pattern by now, the way it fragments, the way the moans shorten and sharpen and climb in pitch. Her hands leave your neck and slam flat against the mirror behind her, bracing herself, and her chin tips toward the ceiling. "Right there. Fuck, don't change anything, right there."
You maintain the angle, the depth, the pace, your hands still on her breasts, and you watch her face as everything tightens. Her brow furrows, her mouth opens, her stomach clenches in rapid spasms. She's right at the edge, suspended, her entire body rigid and trembling.
She cums with a sharp, stuttering cry that she bites off by pressing her lips together, the sound vibrating in her throat. Her pussy clamps around you in hard, rhythmic contractions, squeezing your cock in waves that roll from her entrance to her depths. Her thighs shake violently against your hips, her heels drumming your legs. One hand flies to your shoulder and grips so hard you feel her nails through your jacket. Her hips grind against you in frantic, involuntary circles, riding the orgasm out, milking every last second of it.
You don't stop. She's still twitching, still clenching, aftershocks rippling through her, and you keep thrusting. The oversensitivity makes her gasp, makes her grab your wrist and squeeze, but she doesn't tell you to stop. She lets you keep going, her body slowly unclenching, and the slickness between you has increased, wetter now, her arousal coating your shaft and your thighs. You feel your own orgasm building. It starts low, that heavy pressure at the base of your spine, pooling and tightening with each stroke. Her pussy is still fluttering around you in diminishing contractions, and the sensation is too much after months of nothing. The pressure climbs fast.
"I'm gonna cum.” She reacts immediately. Her legs unlock from your waist and she pushes at your hips, sliding off the sink, her heels clicking on the tile as she drops to her knees in front of you. Her hand wraps around your cock, slick with her own wetness, and she strokes you twice before guiding the head into her mouth.
You cum the second her lips close around you. The orgasm tears through your body in a rush, your hips bucking forward, and the first thick rope of cum hits the back of her tongue. She holds still, her mouth open wide, letting you fill it, and you feel each pulse land, heavy and hot. Your hand finds the back of her head, fingers threaded through her ruined hair as you empty yourself onto her tongue.
When the last spasm fades, she pulls back. Opens her mouth wide and looks up at you. Her tongue is coated, a thick pool of white cum sitting in the center, catching the fluorescent light. She holds it there for a long second, letting you see it, letting you take in the image of this woman in a floor-length designer gown kneeling on a bathroom floor with your cum displayed on her tongue.
Then she closes her mouth and swallows. All of it. One smooth motion of her throat, and it's gone. She opens her mouth again to prove it, clean, and smiles. "Couldn't let you ruin the dress."
"My hero."
She stands, smoothing the fabric of her gown back down over her hips. You pull your pants up, buckle the belt, straighten the shirt. She tugs the neckline back into position, covering herself, and turns to the mirror. The damage assessment takes about three seconds.
"Oh, that's bad." She tilts her head, examining the smeared glitter, the streaked makeup, the swollen lips. Her hair has lost most of its structure, loose strands framing her face. "This is really bad."
"You look great."
"I look like I just had sex in a bathroom." She digs into the clutch she left on the counter and pulls out a compact, dabbing at the worst of the damage, blending what she can. Her fingers rake through her hair, pulling it back, finding something resembling its original shape. It's not perfect. It's not going to fool anyone who looks closely. But from a distance, in dim lighting, it might pass.
She turns to you and gives you a once-over, straightening your tie, smoothing the lapels of your jacket, wiping a faint smear of lipstick from your jaw with her thumb.
"Not bad at all," she says, stepping back to appraise her work. "For your first premiere."
You catch her hand before she pulls it away. Press your lips to her knuckles once. "I think I could get used to these kinds of events."
She grins, squeezes your fingers, and unlocks the bathroom door.
—
The after-party was chaos in the best possible way. Open bar, too many people talking at once, your director giving a speech that went fifteen minutes long and made three people cry. You shook hands with actors whose films you grew up watching. Jenna introduced you to people whose names you forgot the second they walked away because your brain was running at capacity and had been since the bathroom.
Now you're in your apartment in Silver Lake, in your bed that's too small for two people but has held two people every night she's been here, and Jenna's head is resting on your chest. She's still in the tank top and underwear she changed into when you got back. Her makeup is mostly gone, wiped off with one of your washcloths, though traces of glitter still cling to her hairline. She's had enough champagne that her cheeks are pink and her laugh comes easier than usual, which is saying something.
"The handjob scene." She's giggling into your chest, her body shaking with it. "When they showed the handjob scene, I almost lost it. I had to bite the inside of my cheek so hard."
"You were very composed from what I saw."
"I was dying. Dying. Because the whole time I'm watching it thinking, that is my actual hand on your actual penis, and the boom operator is right there, and the director is watching it on the monitor thinking about, like, emotional subtlety or whatever, and meanwhile I'm jerking you off under a blanket."
"The emotional subtlety of a handjob."
She slaps your chest lightly. "Stop. And then the oral scene. Oh my god, the oral scene. My face is like forty feet wide on that screen and I'm actually cumming. That's a real orgasm. On a movie screen. In a theater full of critics."
"Award-worthy performance."
"It wasn't a performance!" She dissolves into laughter again, pressing her face against your chest. You feel the warmth of her breath through the fabric of your shirt. "Nobody will ever know. That's the craziest part. It's just ours. This ridiculous, filthy secret that's going to be projected in theaters around the world, and every single person watching it will think it's acting."
"Best acting of your career."
"I wasn't acting!"
"I know. That's the joke."
She pinches your side and you flinch, catching her hand. She settles again, her cheek against your sternum, her fingers lacing through yours. The laughter fades gradually, you feel the shift before she says anything.
"Hey... Huh, can I tell you something?"
"Yeah."
She doesn't lift her head at first. She stays against your chest, and you feel her take a long breath.
"I really like you." She pauses. "That's not what I mean. I'm in love with you." She pushes up onto her elbow and looks at you, her face is open in a way you've rarely seen. "When this started, I thought it was going to be fun. That's it. You were cute and new and I liked messing with you. I figured it would run its course and we'd go our separate ways and I'd have a funny story about the time I jerked off my co-star during a take." She traces a line along your collarbone with her fingertip. "But then it didn't run its course. It just kept getting bigger. Every night in your hotel room, every morning waking up next to you, every scene we did together. I kept waiting for the feeling to level off and it never did."
She swallows. The shine in her eyes isn’t from the champagne.
"And then filming ended and I went home and you went home and I thought, okay, this is when it fades. This is when I realize it was just proximity and adrenaline and really good sex. But it didn't fade. It got worse. I'd be on set for another project and I'd check my phone between takes hoping you'd texted. I'd be in meetings thinking about you. I'd lie in bed at night in my apartment, which is too big and too quiet, and I'd miss the sound of you breathing next to me."
She holds your gaze. "I'm in love with you. Completely. And it scares the shit out of me because I didn't plan for it and I can't control it and those are two things I really don't do well with."
You look at her for a long moment. She's waiting, and you can see the vulnerability in it, the way she's braced for the possibility that you won't say it back.
"Come here."
She leans closer and you cup her face, your thumb resting on her cheekbone where the glitter used to be.
"I've been in love with you since the second month of filming. Maybe earlier. I just didn't trust it because everything was happening so fast and I kept telling myself I was confusing the situation for the feeling." You brush a strand of hair from her forehead. "But when we came back to LA and I was alone in this apartment and your smell was still on my shirt, I knew. And every time my phone lit up with your name, I knew. And tonight, watching you on that red carpet, I knew in a way that I can't talk myself out of anymore."
"So we're both idiots who were in love the whole time and too stubborn to say it."
"Basically."
She laughs, wet and shaky, and presses her forehead against yours. "Okay. Well. That's settled then. I'm your girlfriend now. That's not a question, by the way."
"I didn't hear a question."
"Good. Because it wasn't one."
She kisses you and it starts soft, her lips pressing against yours with a tenderness that matches the moment, and then it deepens. Her mouth opens and her tongue slides against yours and the softness gives way to heat. She kisses you harder, her hand gripping the front of your shirt, pulling you closer, and the kiss turns wet and messy, her spit mixing with yours, the taste of champagne still on her tongue.
She pulls back an inch. "Open your mouth."
You part your lips and she leans over you, her hair falling around your faces like a curtain. She purses her lips and lets a slow thread of spit drop from her mouth into yours, watching it fall, watching it land on your tongue. Then she seals her mouth over yours and kisses you through it, her tongue pushing deep, licking into the mess, sucking your tongue into her mouth with a wet, pulling pressure that makes your cock stir against her thigh.
She feels it. She shifts her hips, pressing her ass back against you, and starts a slow grind. The thin fabric of her underwear is the only thing between your cock and the curve of her ass, and she rolls against you in lazy, circular motions, building friction, building heat.
"One more round before we sleep?" she murmurs against your mouth, still grinding.
"I'm in."
She smiles into the kiss and sits up, straddling your hips. Her hands cross at the hem of her tank top and she pulls it over her head in one motion, tossing it off the side of the bed. Her breasts are bare, small and perfect, her nipples hardening in the cool air of the bedroom. She sits there for a second, letting you look at her.
She reaches between her legs, pulls the fabric of her underwear to the side, and wraps her other hand around your cock, which is fully hard now, straining upward. She positions the head at her entrance and holds your gaze as she lowers herself.
Inch by inch, her body takes you in. She's wet and warm and she sinks down with excruciating slowness, her lips parting, her eyes half-shutting, until her ass rests against your thighs and you're buried completely inside her. She places both palms on your chest and exhales.
She starts to move. Her hips trace slow circles, grinding you deep inside her, her body undulating in a fluid wave that starts at her pelvis and ripples up through her stomach and chest. She's beautiful on top of you, her skin warm in the low light of your bedroom lamp, her hair falling around her shoulders, those freckles trailing across her chest.
"You like seeing me like this, daddy?" She rolls her hips in a long, sinuous figure-eight, her pussy gripping your shaft with each rotation. "On top of you?"
"You already know the answer to that."
"I want to hear you say it."
"I love seeing you like this." Your hands settle on her thighs, thumbs tracing the crease where they meet her hips. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She bites her lower lip and picks up the pace slightly, her hips rising and falling in a slow rhythm, taking you nearly all the way out before sinking back down. The wet sound of it fills the quiet apartment. She twirls her hips on the downstroke, a corkscrew motion that hits you from every angle, and your fingers dig into her thighs.
"God, you're good at that."
"I know." She grins down at you, rolling her hips again, slower this time, savoring it. "I've been told I have talented hips."
"By who?"
"Wouldn't you like to know." She drops forward, her palms on either side of your head, and her breasts hang above your face. She grinds against you, deep and slow, her clit pressing against your pelvis on each forward roll, and a soft moan escapes through her parted lips. "Just lie there and let me take care of you, daddy. I've missed this so much.”
Her hips find a faster rhythm, rising higher, dropping harder, each stroke pulling you nearly all the way out before she sinks back down and takes you to the root. Her body rolls with a fluidity that mesmerizes you even now, even after all the times you've watched her move like this. Every muscle in her stomach flexes and releases. Her breasts bounce with each impact, catching the warm glow of the lamp.
"God, your cock is perfect." She drops her full weight on the downstroke and grinds, her pussy clenching around the base. "You have no idea. So thick. I feel it stretching me every time."
"Glad it meets your standards."
"Exceeds them." She lifts her hips and slams back down. "Seriously. It's big. Like, the perfect kind of big. The kind where it fills you up completely but doesn't hurt. I'm obsessed with it."
"I know." You slide your hands up her thighs and grip her hips. "I've been told I have a really nice dick, actually."
Her rhythm stutters for half a second. She looks down at you, one eyebrow raised. "By who?"
"You wouldn't like to know."
Her mouth falls open in mock outrage, and then the laugh erupts out of her. She slaps your chest hard enough to sting. "You bastard. That was my line."
"Felt right in the moment."
"Fair." She's grinning, shaking her head, still laughing as she resumes her rhythm. "Okay. Fair. I deserved that."
The laughter fades as the pace picks up. She plants her knees wider on the mattress and starts bouncing in earnest, her ass lifting off your thighs and dropping, lifting and dropping, each stroke fast and wet. "I love riding you, daddy. I love how deep you get from this angle." She drops forward and kisses you, sloppy and brief, then sits back up and keeps going. "I thought about this every single night we were apart. Getting on top of you and just using your cock until I can't feel my legs."
"Well, you're doing a pretty good job of that right now."
"Shut up and let me fuck you." She grabs your hands and puts them on her breasts, pressing your palms against them, and you squeeze while she rides. Her nipples are hard points against your skin, she arches into your grip, her back curving, her hips never stopping.
She's riding you harder now, the pace bordering on frantic. The headboard taps the wall behind you in a fast, uneven beat. Her thighs flex and burn with the effort, sweat glistening in the creases, and her pussy is soaked, every downstroke accompanied by a wet, squelching sound.
"I want you to cum inside me, daddy,” Jenna says, leaning over you until her face is inches from yours. "Cum with me. I want us to cum together."
"Keep going. Don't slow down."
"Wasn't planning on it." She rolls her hips on the downstroke, grinding her clit against your pelvis, and a shudder runs through her that you feel from the inside. "Oh fuck, I'm getting close. Are you close?"
"Getting there."
She straightens up, planting both hands on your stomach, and rides you with everything she has. Her hips slam into yours, fast and punishing, her body bouncing on your cock in a relentless rhythm that she maintains through sheer willpower. Her thighs are trembling, her breathing ragged, and she's clenching around you on every downstroke, tight, pulsing squeezes that push you closer to the edge with each one.
"Cum inside your girlfriend, daddy." She looks down at you with those dark, glassy eyes, her lips swollen and parted. "Fill me up. I want to feel every drop."
"I'm close."
"Me too. Oh god, me too. Cum with me. Please cum with me."
She drops down hard and grinds, circling her hips, her clit dragging against your pelvis, and you feel her tighten around you in a way that's different from the rhythmic squeezes. This is a sustained clench, her entire body locking, and you know she's right there on the edge.
You grab her hips and thrust up into her, hard, burying yourself as deep as you can go, and that's what breaks it for both of you. She cums first by half a second. Her pussy clamps down on your cock in a vice grip and her whole body goes rigid, her back arching, her nails cutting into the skin of your stomach. The contractions hit you in rapid, squeezing waves, and that pressure is what sends you over. Your orgasm erupts from the base of your spine and floods through you, your cock pulsing inside her, pumping thick ropes of cum deep into her pussy while her walls milk every drop.
She's trembling on top of you. Her thighs are shaking so badly her knees keep sliding on the sheets, and her stomach spasms in visible contractions. Her mouth is open in a silent expression of overwhelm, her eyes squeezed shut, and you can feel your cum mixing with her wetness inside her, hot and slick and abundant. She grinds down against you in helpless, involuntary circles, riding the aftershocks, her body pulsing and clenching and releasing in diminishing waves.
Your own body shudders beneath her, each pulse pushing another surge into her, until the intensity finally crests and begins its long, slow fade. Your hands go slack on her hips. Your head sinks into the pillow. The room is spinning gently at the edges. She collapses forward onto your chest, boneless, her face pressed into your neck. You can feel her heart slamming against your ribs, fast and wild, and her breath comes in hot, uneven bursts against your skin. She's still twitching around you, tiny involuntary clenches, and you're still inside her, softening slowly, surrounded by the warm mess of both of you.
For a while neither of you speaks. The only sounds are breathing and the distant tick of the kitchen clock and the faint wail of a siren somewhere blocks away.
"That was really good," she finally murmurs into your neck. Her body is completely limp against yours, heavy with spent energy. "Like, really, really good. We came at the same time."
"We did."
"Together. Like a couple."
"Almost like we are one."
"So romantic." She grins and drops her forehead back against your collarbone. "See? We're already in sync. Sexually compatible. Emotionally bonded. Simultaneous orgasms. This relationship is going to be disgusting."
You laugh and she bounces with it. You feel the warmth between your bodies, the slickness where you're still connected, and the faint trickle of cum leaking from her onto your thigh.
"You should probably clean up, babe."
"No."
"Jenna."
"Tomorrow. I'll deal with it tomorrow. I'm not moving."
"My mattress is going to be destroyed."
She pushes up onto her elbows and looks at you with an expression of theatrical disbelief. "We have been a couple for literally five minutes and you're already being grumpy about the mattress. Five minutes."
"It's a nice mattress. I just got it."
"It's a mattress from IKEA, and you've had it for two years. Don't lie to me." You laugh, properly, she's fighting the grin but losing. She pokes your chest with one finger. "If it'll shut you up, I'll clean everything tomorrow. Sheets, mattress, all of it. I'll scrub it myself. Happy?"
"Deal."
"You're so annoying." She lowers herself back down onto your chest, tucking her head under your chin, and pulls your arm around her like a blanket. "The most annoying boyfriend alive."
"You picked me."
"I know. Questionable judgment on my part." She presses her lips against your chest. "Now shut up and hold me. I'm sleeping here."
You tighten your arms around her, pulling the rumpled sheet over both of you with one hand. She nestles closer, legs tangled with yours. You reach over and switch off the lamp. With eyes closed, you kiss the top of her head, breathing in vanilla and cigarettes, holding your girlfriend close in the dark.
With the shocking news of Heeseung leaving Enhypen, were there groups you lost interest in after they lost a (few) member/s?
The majority of the groups I stan luckily haven't lost any members (I'm praying it never happens to my ult groups of TWICE, ITZY, and XG). Really the only group that I stan that has lost a member is NewJeans and let's just say after Danielle leaving it's gonna be hard to stan them (my biases were the English line; Minji, Hanni and Danielle). I'm hoping Danielle's future goes well, there's a bunch of rumours going around and I'm glad she's kinda free from HYBE.
Being Seulgi’s roommate, you mostly have experience with the soft, kind side of her. The ditzy side, the one who would burn her tongue on piping hot tea you brewed for her without fail, the one who cracked so many dishes while washing them that the chore became your sole responsibility, the one whose beaming smile could light up a city and whose energetic disposition could stir even the dead with life.
Right now, the Seulgi that is looking at you is the other Seulgi. The one serious one, the deadly one, the one who comes out during volleyball matches, the one who takes over while studying or as she is otherwise concentrating on something, the one who is now looking at you with a piercing, sultry gaze, the one threatens to bring you to your knees.
“I thought you said you wanted to take these off.” Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol in her system or the positive reaction you gave to her advances, Seulgi’s normally beaming, gentle demeanor is long gone, replaced with a confident seductress, a shameless harlot, that’s shaking her chest at you.
“I do.” you don’t want to admit that you’re feeling a little light-headed, that you feel in over your head, and now that you’re actually here, you don’t want to let Seulgi know that you’re panicking. “But…” Slightly.
“But?” Then Seulgi bites the tip of her finger, lips pulled apart in a coy grin, and your brain malfunctions.
“Um—” Ok, you can admit it: you’re full-on panicking. You can hear your heart racing at ten million miles a minute. “—but, er—”
“You know, you have to come over here to take my clothes off.”
Where did all this confidence come from? You can never comprehend it, how Seulgi manages to flip a switch so quickly, to such a different persona. You sometimes wish you could do the same, but instead, you’re left in your usual bumbling, blustering state, except now, it’s forced to the surface instead of kept inside you.
Breathe. Focus. Stop panicking. Seulgi already pushed herself so much to get to this point. Me hesitating almost made her cry. So, stop—
…
Ok…
You feel like an absolute idiot for only now realizing this, but…
Seulgi likes me?
Her kissing you out of the blue, the atmosphere that was created from that—even before that, the hints she was dropping about that guy, how he was so oblivious—no, even before that, when you learned that Seulgi is only physically affectionate to her female friends, and you? Were you supposed to pick up on that? It all happened too quick, your mind a blur, your thoughts a mess. Not only today, but this entire time. Seulgi is just a good friend, she’s just a kind person, she’s just clingy, she’s just, she’s just… then, all those times she’s told me that she loves me … did she mean more than platonically?
And now, you’re back to panicking. You’re trying to think harder, to see how you could’ve missed it, how it was even possible for this to sneak up on you, how you’ve been so focused on your own burgeoning feelings for Seulgi, suppressing them as much as you could, that you somehow didn’t even notice Seulgi’s burgeoning feelings for you … even thinking that feels atrociously egotistical. Unnatural. Like, Seulgi…? Seulgi? The woman who has been confessed to more times than you’ve has crushes, times twenty, maybe even times fifty? The one who’s gaining campus-wide popularity for her luminescent personality and her radiant beauty, the one who you’ve heard jealous remarks from multiple guys about, wishing they were also as close to Seulgi as you were. That Seulgi. That Seulgi.
Fuck.
“Hm?”
It’s just a word. It’s not even that, it’s just a sound, a short interjection, but hearing it, whipping your head up to look at her face, and you realize: the sultry stare, the teasing bite of her fingertip, it’s all just an act. Seulgi is just putting up a façade of confidence, because now, you see through it: her own hesitation, her fear, her self-doubt, and that calms you. The fact that Seulgi is also, perhaps, struggling with the same mental battles that you are, and more importantly, seeing her revert back to the kind, gentle, slightly ditzy Seulgi that you’re used to pulls you back down to Earth.
Stop making her wait so much. Stop making her be so doubtful.
Stop thinking. Just—
“Is it wrong to stop to admire how great you look in that outfit?”
Seulgi smiles: a mix of bashfulness and sexy allure, like she’s trying to regain her composure but is suffering such hard whiplash from switching back and forth between her two personas that they inadvertently mix together. “Oh. Well…” Another crack in the mask forms, but you can tell that she’s trying, and that is somewhat endearing to you. “…come here and take a closer look.”
You oblige, and Seulgi responds by scooting back on the bed and widening her legs. There’s a small grin adorning her face, although you can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or excitement, or maybe a mix of both. “Of all the people, me…”
“Mmm~” the sound of acknowledgement, bordering on a moan, dips low, takes upon itself a husky quality, and it’s driving you crazy. When you place a cautious hand on her exposed waist, you can feel her flinch for a brief second, but then, just as quickly, lean into your touch. “you…”
“…Why?”
You can’t help but ask. Seulgi is the first woman whose attention you’ve captured, and to make such a claim is beyond wild: it would be like saying that the first time you ever played basketball was in the NBA, or the first time you ever ran an official 100m sprint was at the Olympics.
“Because.” The lingering curiosity in your eyes draws out a fuller answer from Seulgi. “You always ask me if I want something when you’re going to the vending machine at the rec center, and even when I say no, you always know when I’m lying and bring me just want I need anyway. You always find fun places to hang out during the weekends. You spend so much effort in not only our relationship, but classes, making sure everyone is comfortable, and you even attend all my volleyball games. You always remember all the little details, like how I like my coffee with two pumps of syrup or how I always trip on the third step of that one staircase at that one library so you always have your hand hovering around me just in case. You’re always there for me, you always listen to me complain about things, and you’re always so supportive and helpful and you also get along so well with all of my friends…” The speed at which Seulgi is able to rattle off all of that astounds you, and for a second, you’re frozen, your knee pressing down on the spot between her legs on the bed, hands planted on either side of her waist, looking into her dark, shimmering eyes that were but a handful of inches from you. In that moment, she’s absolutely breathtaking, she’s positively glowing, and you’re utterly captured in the sparkling look in her eyes. “…the better question is, how can I do anything but fall in love with you?”
You don’t know what you were expecting when you asked the question. To you, the answer to the inverse question is simple. Seulgi is so luminescent, so unwaveringly kind and always makes sure to include you on everything whenever she can, and it obviously doesn’t hurt that she’s probably the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on, that falling in love with her is simply an inevitability. You know you aren’t any of those things: you aren’t remarkably handsome, you don’t have an amazingly built body, you aren’t extremely talented or competent at anything, so you at least knew to not expect that kind of an answer to your question.
Then what were you expecting? Maybe something like, ‘I spend so much time with you’, or ‘you’re the only man Irene approves of’. Something understandable, logical, something that you can go, ‘aah, ok, that makes sense.’ But everything Seulgi just listed … you’re really trying your best to understand her, but … are any of them special? Are they really things that would make someone fall in love? Aren’t they things that anyone could do?
“Tell me it back.”
You snap out of your haze at Seulgi’s question. “Hm?”
“You still haven’t told me you love me back.”
Despite everything, you break out into a giggle. It’s so childish, so pure and innocent, and also, so Seulgi. Seulgi, the immensely affection woman that she is, showering all of her friends with all the love and attention they could possibly want from such a stunningly beautiful and wondrously kind individual as her, and thus, is showered equally in love and attention in return. But, however much she gets from her friends, she still wants it from you.
“I love you too, Kang Seulgi.”
The unstoppable smile that breaks out on her face, slipping over her lips and onto her eyes, stops your heart. Then, she stops your breath by pressing her lips against yours.
There are a million things that are attractive about Kang Seulgi, and among her attractive physical traits, you would have to say that her lips are at the top of that enormous list. Perfectly proportioned, a pretty, soft-pink hue, and on the rare occasion they aren’t stretched into a warm smile, they take upon a naturally pouty shape. It’s gotten to the point where you had to pay extra attention to not stare, but it’s so damn hard to not, especially after moving in with her. Enjoying some pastries at one of her favorite cafes, or sitting opposite her while eating your dinner, or walking home with boba in hand, or even just talking to her normally, you’ve had to make sure to rip your eyes away from her lips on more than ten, probably more than twenty occasions. The question of if her lips are as soft as they look has, of course, come across your mind, and just minutes ago, you were able to confirm that, indeed, Kang Seulgi’s lips are incredibly soft.
This kiss feels different, though. She’s closer to you, her body pressed against yours and her face so close that you can feel the puff of air from her nose on your cheek; whereas before, the two of you remained relatively static, this time, Seulgi is moving more. Intensely, desperately, like she’s gone without food for two days and your lips are her means of sustenance. You can feel her hands wrapping around to the back of your head, but likewise, your right hand is on her waist, pulling her closer to you while you lean into the kiss. You can feel her legs starting to wrap around your waist, sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress until finally, Seulgi’s back is flush against the soft bedsheets adorning her bed.
The two of you are forced apart to adjust to the new position, but your eyes remain trained on each other as the two of you shift your position. There’s a slight flush on Seulgi’s cheeks, shooting the same beaming grin at you. “Say it again.”
This time, you laugh. “You’re so needy.”
“Say it again!”
You lean down before answering, your face a mere few centimeters from hers before saying, “I love you, Kang Seulgi.”
The pout on her lips turns into a smile in an instant. Her hands loop around up your nape and to the back of your head, and then, you’re kissing her again. The proximity of her face, the feeling of her body heat that’s caressing your skin, the way that she’s kissing you, greedy and impatient and sloppy and wet, the way that her legs are wrapping around your back again and pulling your bodies closer together, the amount of oxytocin flooding your system feels like it’s starting to verge on lethal levels.
You don’t know if it’s the heater that’s been turned up too much or the fact that your bodies have no gaps between them or the incessant motions both you and Seulgi are doing, but you soon find yourself having to separate yourself from her for fear of overheating. “I love you.” Seulgi barely lets herself finish the declaration before pulling you back in. You find yourself inadvertently moaning into the kiss, your hands holding either side of her face. “I love you,” this time, Seulgi has to murmur it against your lips, barely giving any space to breathe before reconnecting to you. “I love you so much.”
Again and again, Seulgi tells you the same thing, never giving you time to process it before going back to kissing you. Each time she says the words, it gets the slightest bit more intense and the slightest bit hotter, until it reaches to the point where you can feel Seulgi’s hand slide down the backside of your neck, down your back, and to the hem of your shirt. Feeling her bunching the edge of your shirt in her hands, you understand her intent and break the kiss. The shirt flies off your head, and you throw it somewhere to the right.
“Oh…”
Her eyes bulge out of their sockets as they land on your torso. However, you aren’t so much as wondering why she’s reacting in such an extreme way and more so trying to remember what about this seems so familiar, when your mind finally travels back far enough and you connect the dots.
“It’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen me shirtless.”
“…hm?”
The tips of Seulgi’s ears are a burning bright red, and from her genuinely confused expression, you can tell that your words went in one ear and exited out through the other.
“I said, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen me shirtless.”
“Wh—Wha—” Seulgi begins to stammer, and you can’t help but break out into laughter, “—I, I know! I’m not—it’s not li—I’m, I mean, last time, I—I—” with every break in her sentence, Seulgi’s face grows redder, and you can’t help but notice that she’s having a hard time keeping her eyes off your bare torso. In part due to Seulgi’s influence, and in part due to a desire to be as helpful to Seulgi as possible, you’ve taken it upon yourself to learn to play volleyball yourself, joining an intramural league, mostly with the help of Seulgi. Because of that, you do pretty strenuous physical activity on a somewhat regular basis, but compared to the bodies of even the members of your own rather amateur intramural team, yours is nothing special. “—it-it—I know!”
Logically, you want to tell yourself that Seulgi is just acting, that she can’t actually think you’re your body is anything special. But then again, where has this so-called ‘logic’ gotten you? Getting completely blind-sided by Seulgi’s confession, helplessly panicking at the thought that Seulgi might actually like you—rather, love you, that’s where. Plus, you can also use your eyes and see just how red her face is getting, just how bashful she’s getting, and all of the sudden, you feel your own surge of confidence. “Can I take your shirt off?”
Seulgi simply nods, and although it’s clear she wants to cover her face behind her hands and hide, she obediently raises her arms to let you take her top off and place it as neatly as you can on the nightstand. “After stalling for so long, you finally decided to follow through with what you first set out to do.” The fierce, confident Seulgi is back, but this time, now that you’re not a ball of anxiety, you can respond properly.
“You say that, but it looks like you’re the one more looking forward to taking my clothes off.”
“Then, are you going to let me take the rest of your clothes off?” So she says, but you can see through her façade this time. She says the words, but there’s still hesitation in her body language: her hands that are refusing to come forward, the fact that she’s still laying down on the bed.
Seulgi is too adorable.
“Or are you … going to … um, make me take … take off … ta-take off mine? Wai—… wait, no, I mean, yours?”
All this time, you’ve lived with this juxtaposition: how can someone so gosh-darn cute be also so devastatingly sexy? The answer to the question doesn’t matter, as it all coalesces into one thing: your attraction to Seulgi. And now, you’re finding that they’re mixing together: the cuteness that made you want to coddle her and squeeze her cute little cheeks are now turning you on, and the sexy allure she carries in her eyes and in her voice contrasted with the hints of bashfulness makes you want to hold her close and coo at her. But the outfit that she’s wearing, looking at her laying down beneath you, the kiss you two shared, it’s clear which side is winning out.
“You first.”
You aren’t asking, nor do you wait. Your hands curl around the edge of her shorts, and with a firm tug, you pull them off her legs. Seulgi’s hands immediately go to her crotch, but they aren’t quick enough to block the glimpse you caught of the darker coloration of her sky-blue panties, a piece of undergarment verging on the brink of lingerie rendered even slimmer from it being soaked from her arousal.
“Wha—wait—” you pause at her squeal, but when you meet her eyes, you’re getting mixed signals: her lips are telling you to stop, but her eyes are telling you to keep going!
“Seulgi?”
“Wait, no, don’t … stop…?”
All hesitation gets blown away. Not necessarily because she tells you, as bad as that sounds, but because her adorable-ness is turning you on so much. As bad as that sounds.
“Then…” your hands apply gentle pressure on her hands, which offer no resistance in re-exposing her damp panties. You set them on either side of her body and watch her expression as your fingers curl around the strings of her underwear, and seeing her sucking in a deep breath and feeling her entire body tense under the ghost of your touch against her plush, hot skin encourages you to pull those off as well. Your hands follow the moist clothing down her silky-smooth legs, grinning to yourself at how much she’s shivering at the feeling of her fingers skimming over them, and set them on the nightstand afterwards.
“Hmm…”
The light moan that escapes from Seulgi’s lips turns into another squeal when your fingers brush against the intersection of her legs. “Very nicely shaven.” You look up to her, who is now refusing to look at you. She is instead hiding her face behind her hands, but even that isn’t enough to hide the redness on her cheeks and her ears. “I guess I caught you on a good day?”
Seeing her squirming at your innocently-worded question, intentionally oblivious this time, nearly makes you laugh. “I … so what? I shaved because I wanted it to be nice and neat and pretty, ok?”
And that actually makes you laugh. “It is very pretty. Although I doubt I would’ve said anything different if you hadn’t shaved.” You tentatively introduce two digits to her wet folds, and she lets out a shaky moan. “Wow, and look how wet you are already.”
Despite Seulgi’s face still being bright red, she shouts, “W-Well, whose fault is that?”
“Then, shall I—” you speak as your fingers part her folds and accidentally bump into something suspiciously hard. You may be oblivious, as you’ve recently found out, but you aren’t stupid—you know what it is, verified by how sharply she gasped at the contact, and with barely a second’s hesitation, your thumb joins your index finger to caress it.
“Aa-aahn!”
Seulgi’s sweet-sounding squeal is sheer ecstasy to your ears. Her legs shudder against your other hand, her labia quivers at your touch, and her snatch salivating so heavily at the stimulation in conjunction with her moans encourages you to continue. “Does that feel good?”
“Nng!” Seulgi, apparently barely able to speak coherently, can only answer with that interjection and a flurry of insistent nods. “B—Bu—… hmm …” Realizing she’s trying to tell you something, you slow down and give her a second to catch her breath. “It feels good, but I…” she grows quiet, her face already beet red and her eyes darting away bashfully. You give her the space to finish her sentence, which she does with, “…I want more than just your fingers.”
That right there? Such a devastatingly sexy woman, delivering such a lethal line in such a bashful manner, freeing the uncomfortable tightness in your shorts, nearly tripping over yourself in doing so, throwing it by the wayside and barely even catching the way Seulgi’s eyes bulge even wider at your throbbing erection until you’re positioning it at her heat and you hear such a loud gasp that it pierces through the deep tidal wave of arousal your body just sunk beneath and look up to see her eyes locked on to your cock, biting her lips in anticipation, and in your peripheral vision, her hands clenched into fists.
If not for the situation at hand, you might classify her current facial expression as ‘adorable’. But right now, it’s turning you on like hell.
“…please…”
Seulgi’s barely audible murmur morphs into a high-pitched moan when your tip brushes against her soaking wet sex, pushing her folds aside. The anticipation inside your own body is building too, and as overwhelming as the feeling is, you’re doing everything in your power to hold back. The longer the wait, the greater the payoff. Supposedly.
Tease her entrance with your tip. Rub your shaft against her labia, bathe it in her wetness. Listen to Seulgi’s gasping and sighing and panting, increasingly desperate, her legs shaking with desire, the words spilling out of her mouth growing increasingly needy and dire, dripping with lust and desire. Reeling your own lust in, trying to do everything in your power to continue building up the tension, even going so far as to shift your mind to different topics, when you finally realize—
“Wait, condom.”
Seulgi violently shakes her head, wrapping her legs even more tightly around your waist the moment you try to pull away. “No! Please, just, inside! Now!”
Blood rushes to your head, or maybe it left it—suddenly, all of your senses dulled, all extraneous thoughts vanishing, anything and everything not directly Seulgi fades from your consciousness, and when you finally push past her pussy lips and bury your length inside her in one motion, it’s Seulgi’s shrill scream that breaks you out of your trance.
“Oh god, oh my god…”
And when you draw your hips back and slam back into her, you can feel Seulgi’s entire body shiver with sheer ecstasy beneath you, her legs tensing against your back and her hands shooting out and wrapping themselves around your arms that are planted on either side of her shoulders.
“God, I feel like I’m going to cum already…”
Seulgi’s voice is shaking, tears spilling out of her eyes. She sounds equal parts elated and frustrated, something that you can sympathize with. Barely a few seconds in, and the feeling of Seulgi’s pussy walls fluttering around your cock, the feeling of her hot, wet tightness rubbing against your length as you continue to slam yourself into her with building intensity, and it feels like you’re on the brink already. Seulgi’s heat, her voice that turns you on so insanely much, the way her legs are tightening their grip on your back and her hands are tightening around your forearms and how her cunt is tightening around your cock, the way she squirms and writhes and how her back arches clear off the mattress, every single aspect of the current situation seems to be tailor-built to test your resolve.
“Hnng, god, yes, I’m so close…”
“Fuck, Seulgi, you’re so tight.”
Seulgi opens her eyes and, while hints of a flush still remain on her face, she shoots you a sultry stare accompanied by a mischievous grin. “Does it feel good?”
You nod. “It feels amazing.”
“A-Are you also close?”
You feel like you’re getting swallowed up. Her body, her voice, her warmth, everything is washing over you, consuming you. You’re a rickety raft adrift the violent storm of Seulgi’s lust, just barely holding yourself together. “I’m so close.” Seulgi continues to wordlessly grin at you, drawing out the next question that comes out your lips, “What?”
“I got you to say that word.”
Your mind is definitely way too blasted to try to figure out which ‘word’ Seulgi is referencing, so you just respond with, “…what word?”
“That word. You know: fuck.”
It shouldn’t turn you on so much. It’s just a word, technically. But it’s that word: the naughty word, the swear word, a word you’ve refrained from using around Seulgi because she’s too innocent for that word, but hearing it coming from her mouth, while she’s getting dicked down on her own bed by you, said in a playful manner and with a bit of a moan…
Fuck.
“That really makes you happy, does it?”Seulgi can only squeal out a half-response, a giddy sound in reaction to the increased vigor you’re fucking her with. It doesn’t help that the clear juxtaposition of Seulgi’s sweet voice grating so roughly against the harsh diction of the curse word that it pushes your arousal up to eleven, and now, as you’re looking down at Seulgi as she’s becoming completely undone, whimpering and screaming and moaning and bucking her hips in tandem with your thrusts, you feel the unstoppable tsunami crashing down on you. “I’m cumming—”
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Please, just a little more—”
Seulgi isn’t relenting, and with how tightly her legs are gripping your waist, it’s clear that you aren’t going to escape. So, you don’t try to. You let the tsunami crash over you and onto and into Seulgi.
“Hnn—haa, it’s so hot, oh my god—”
Your hips continue to ram into Seulgi as her greedy snatch convulses and squeezes your pulsating cock for all its worth—“wait, Seulgi, wait—” and then more.
“O-Oh god, I’m—aahn!” A final scream from Seulgi and her own orgasm washes through her own body, a salacious blend of bodily fluids mixing together inside her core.
“Shit.” She’s milking you and milking you, and now that her own orgasm is turning up her own intensity, you can’t stop. “Shit, Seulgi…” the sound of your groin slamming against her sex turns damp, and you can see the creampie leaking out of her pussy wedged tightly with your sputtering cock, but as spent as you feel, even though your own climax has faded, Seulgi’s pussy doesn’t seem to get the memo. It continues to pump your cock, slobbering all over it until, nearly a minute later, Seulgi finally comes down from her climax.
“Hm…”
A content, happy hum vibrates out of Seulgi’s throat after you pull out and collapse on the mattress next to her.
“Are you … um, ok? Is it safe?”
“Hm?” Seulgi turns to you, and upon meeting your eyes, she seems to realize what you’re talking about. “Oh! Yeah. Why? Do you want me to get pregnant?”
“I’ll have you know, I tried to let you know, but you didn’t let me.”
Seulgi sticks her tongue out at you. “Well, aren’t you glad I didn’t?”
You laugh. “Well, yeah, but—” your breath catches as Seulgi suddenly wraps you in a sideways hug, her breasts pressing against your arm. You have to take a few seconds to steady yourself before finishing, “—but, I mean, it’s still risky, right?”
“Hm? Why do you still sound so nervous?” You look down at Seulgi to see her teasing smile, and you can’t help but smile back. “After what we just did?”
“Well, no matter what, any guy would be this nervous from being hugged like this by his crush, especially when she’s so beautiful and sexy and perfect.”
It’s so cheesy—it’s so cheesy—but Seulgi can’t help but blush furiously at that. “St-Stop!”
“Now who’s the nervous one?”
Seulgi only laughs back and playfully slaps your shoulder. “Meanie. Let me just stay like this for a while.”
The next morning, as you’re having breakfast, the two of you can’t stop smiling. A couple of natural idiots, just enjoying each other’s company, spending a blissful weekend in each other’s presence, reading, doing homework, watching another movie, playing games, and before you know it, it’s Monday again. As the two of you depart for your morning classes, Seulgi tugs at your arm. “Hm?”
“Goodbye kiss.”
Seulgi is really a needy one. But honestly, you can’t help but swoon at that: how her arms are reaching out to you, how her head is tilted upwards, how her lips are puckered, so you happily oblige, step into her embrace, and peck her on the lips. “There, you fussy baby.”
“Your fussy baby.”
“Well, my fussy baby, I also need to get to class, so you need to let go of me.”
Seulgi pouts, but after rubbing her face against your neck a few times for good measure, she lets go. “See you after class, honey!”
Your heart skips a couple of beats, and when you meet up with Irene at class, your heart is still racing. “Did something nice happen?”
Wow. You’re that easy to read, huh?
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you yet.”
Of all the people the two of you want to tell about your new relationship, Irene is on the very top of that list. However, Seulgi insisted that she wanted to be there to tell Irene the news together at lunch, so you’re now left with a confused but reluctantly accepting Irene. She doesn’t press though, just silently accepts it, and when lunch comes and Seulgi breaks the news to her best friend, Irene’s reaction is … not exactly expected.
“…Oh.” Then, as if realizing what Seulgi just said, she repeats, “Oh!” more emphatically. “Oh! Oh my god, really?”
The delayed reaction … are you thinking about it too much, or is it confirmation of what you’ve been suspecting?
“Yeah!”
“Oh my gosh, since when?!”
“Last Friday!”
“Ooh my gosh, finally! I’m so happy for you two!”
The hugs that Irene gave both Seulgi and you assuaged your suspicions, but as Irene launched into a tirade of questions about every little detail, with Seulgi omitting the more salacious bits, you mostly stayed quiet. Irene would shoot you glances every now and then, but you don’t really know what to make of them: is she suspicious of you now? Irene sounded extremely excited and happy for you two, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve betrayed Irene’s trust.
You’re the last one to get back home that day, and when you do, Seulgi immediately rushes to the door and attacks you with her famous bear hugs. “Welcome home, baby~”
To be fair, this is only day four of being Seulgi’s boyfriend, but hearing the pet name coming out of her mouth, directed at you, and especially followed shortly after by a hug? You don’t know if your heart can take it.
“It’s only been a couple of hours, did you miss me that much?”
The question was asked in jest, but when you look down at her face just a couple of inches below yours, nuzzling against your chest, and she nods very sincerely, you completely melt. “Yeah…”
“Aw, you little baby.” She smiles, nuzzles against your chest, then looks up at you, but before she can speak, you amend your statement. “My little baby.” Satisfied, she closes her eyes again and rests her head against your chest.
“By the way, did you see how Irene reacted to the news?”
“Yeah, she looked … shocked, I guess?”
“Yeah! Right? Now are you still doubting me?”
“About what?”
“About Irene! Her crush on you!”
“Are you sure it’s not because she has a crush on you?”
Seulgi scoffs, removing herself from your embrace. “I guess this is why you were so caught off-guard by my confession.”
“Wha—Hey! That’s not fair!”
“What’s not fair?”
“I—” seeing Seulgi sticking her tongue out playfully at you just makes you laugh. “—I mean, you’re like, probably the most popular girl on campus. You’re definitely the most beautiful girl on campus.” Just like how Seulgi’s pet names make you pause, so too do your compliments to her. That one word, and suddenly, Seulgi is turning away from you, the tips of her ears bright red. “I mean, fantasizing that such a girl likes me? That’s just, you know, a cheesy 80’s romcom trope.” Seulgi laughs at that.
“What do you mean?”
“And then you’re expecting me to believe that the second most beautiful girl on campus also likes me? I mean, there’s being realistic, or I guess socially aware, and then there’s believing that Irene also has a crush on me. Even if it were true, it would still feel delusional to believe it.”
“…I don’t think I follow.”
“It’s more believable that she has a crush on you, right? That’s why she paused? Because she was sad that you’re in a relationship now?”
“No, because she’s the one who pushed me to confess to you.”
Oh.
Ok, that … did that change things?
“I … huh, I see…”
“So if Irene had a crush on me, why would she tell me, her supposed ‘crush’, to confess to someone else?”
“Well, she could be saying that because she wants you to be happy.”
“Oooh my god, baby~” Seulgi laughed and wrapped you into another bear hug, “you just have to come to terms with the fact that you’re … what do you call it? A chick magnet!”
“I … really don’t think I am, though…” never mind that ridiculous claim, it took all of your willpower to get those words out, but just barely. And now, with Seulgi pressing her head against your chest again, there’s no way she can’t hear how fast your heart is racing, but she doesn’t make note of it.
Instead, she says, “We need to work on your self-confidence.”
“I don’t think I have low self-confidence, I just think I’m realistic.”
“Well, the reality is that, according to you, beauty number one and two on campus are in love with you.”
“…ok, if you say so.”
Seulgi laughs at your response. “You don’t sound like you believe me.”
The two of you eventually move to the kitchen to start preparing dinner, staying on the topic of Irene, and while you’re talking, you can’t help but think that it’s strange. Normally, a girl wouldn’t want to talk about another girl she suspects has a crush on her new boyfriend, right? You feel like the topic would be pretty taboo, but for some reason, Seulgi doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seems pretty animated when talking about Irene. Could this be you being oblivious again? But no matter how hard you try to read into Seulgi’s body language and inflections of her voice, you can’t detect any hidden frustrations or grievances.
A week into the relationship, you finally ask the question you’ve been meaning to ask ever since moving in.
“Seulgi, why do you never wear any … you know, like, comfy clothes at home?”
“What do you mean? This is plenty comfortable.”
“Really?” You can’t say you know that much about women’s clothing, so if Seulgi says her clothes are comfortable, then they’re comfortable. Still… “I feel like you never change out of the clothes you go out in.”
“…well, is it wrong to want to always look good in front of the man I’m in love with?”
Seulgi, sounding like a puppy that just got caught sneaking into the treats jar, protests, and you laugh. “Well, but I would feel bad if I was making you wear clothes that aren’t necessarily the most comfortable things to wear, just because you want to look nice in front of me. And also, if that’s your worry, then what about me? I wear pajamas around the house all the time!”
“Well, you look so good in your pajamas!”
Eventually, you somehow manage to convince Seulgi that it’s fine to dress casually at home—a ridiculous thing to have to argue in the first place—but it took a while before Seulgi actually started to do so. Slowly, gradually, Seulgi began to be more comfortable wearing loungewear at home, even getting to the point where she started taking her bra off at home. Admittedly, it did serve as an occasional distraction whenever you happen to see a bit more than you ought to, or when you can see a nipple pressing against the thin fabric of her top, which coalesced to you pushing past Seulgi’s askew bedroom door to seek her out about buying groceries and instead finding her topless.
“Oh shit, sor—”
“Wait!” Seulgi grabs your wrist as you turn around. “Um…”
“…Do you need help choosing your clothes for tomorrow or something?”
Seulgi doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t even respond. She just closes the gap between you, and as her hands snake around your sides, you can feel her breasts pressing against your back. “You see me like this, and you don’t…” You swear, you can hear your own heart beating out of your chest, “want to do anything to me?”
Was this you being oblivious again? Was Seulgi dropping hints all this time? But it was you who proposed that she started dressing more casually.
“Seulgi—”
“Sorry, am I being too much?”
It doesn’t matter, you decide. “What do you want me to do to you?” When Seulgi doesn’t reply, you grab her hands, lightly peel them off your torso, and turn around. Seulgi, instead of answering, is standing there, red-faced, looking very adamantly at the ground, clearly embarrassed about what she just said. You can feel her tugging at her hands, trying to cover her chest, but the gentle hold your hands have on her wrists is enough to dissuade her. “Do you know how much I have to restrain myself on a daily basis? If I did whatever I wanted to do to you, then you wouldn’t be able to attend your volleyball practice.”
Seulgi gasps, and if you didn’t have both wrists in your grasp, she might’ve collapsed right then and there from how badly her knees are shaking. “Oh…”
“Do you want me to prove it?” You ask, but you aren’t really asking. You’re pushing her, guiding her out of her walk-in closet, and when you’ve backed her up all the way to her bed, you pick her up and lay her down onto the soft mattress. You follow shortly after, straddling her with both legs wedged between your thighs.
“They’re sm—” Seulgi’s sentence is cut short when both hands move to her exposed boobs, taking a handful of them in your palms and giving them a light squeeze.
Ever since that first time, the two of you didn’t do anything past kissing. For you, it felt awkward to just tell her you wanted to have sex, especially with how often she inadvertently turned you on by doing the most mundane things, so you just withheld all of that horniness. That, all that pent-up lust, comes up to the surface in that moment, where you’ve had the pleasure of seeing her very shapely boobs in all those tight tops but never dared to ask to touch them despite fantasizing about them for so long, and only now having the chance to do so.
“They’re so—sorry, does that feel good?” So you ask, but looking at her face, you feel like you already know the answer. Her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back against her pillow, biting her lower lip in an attempt to stop herself from making too loud of a noise from the feeling of her breasts getting massaged and stimulated by your hands. Still, “Seulgi?”
“H-Hm?”
“Does that feel good?”
“Ye—nng!” You intentionally wait for her to respond before bringing your thumb up to her areola, but retreating as soon as she interrupts herself with a loud moan.
“Does that feel good?”
“…meanie.”
This time, your index finger joins your thumb in rubbing the sensitive patch of discolored skin sitting atop the peak of her mounds. You can hear Seulgi gasp at the contact, and when you give both nipples a firm squeeze, she lets out another, higher-pitched moan.
“God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
“Then…” You look up at Seulgi, “…then do it more often.”
“I’m serious about what I said earlier, Seulgi. If I did it whenever I wanted to, then you would never have a break from me.”
“Who said I ever wanted a break?”
Seulgi, you feel like, has just been testing your patience this entire time. It almost feels like she’s rage-baiting you, pushing your buttons, seeing how you’d react. A teasing remark, a playful grin, and it works, too. “Seulgi—” this time, nothing interrupts you. You interrupt yourself, your one hand continuing to play with her tits while the other went to her shorts to push them off. The second her legs were rid of the obstruction, that hand dove between her legs and pressed two digits onto her slit.
“Hmm, oh my god—”
Seulgi’s back arches off the bed, another musical moan filling the room. “Careful what you wish for, honey.”
Seulgi opens her eyes again to meet yours. “And you don’t have any idea how often I want to do this with you.”
You want to ask why, but the question dies in your throat.
Seulgi? She’s been horny for you?
“Like, when your rolled up your sleeves to cut up those carrots yesterday, I…” Seulgi dared not finish that sentence, but the way her ears burst into a fit of red let your mind finish it for her.
“You what?”
You still want her to say it, though. Seulgi, the innocent, sweet, pure princess that she is: you want to hear her say naughty words, dirty words, and you want to know that you’re the reason why she said them.
“You know!”
“Hmm, do I? I don’t know, I’m pretty oblivious, aren’t I?”
“Hnnn—” Seulgi’s voice strains as you take your hands away from her sputtering core, “—wai-wait! No…”
“I’m trying to imagine how you were going to finish that sentence, but…”
“Fine! When you rolled your sleeves up yesterday, I had to take a second because I—I got weak in the knees, ok?!”
It’s one thing to finish the sentence in your head, but it’s an entirely other thing to hear her finish it with her own voice. And man are you glad you did, because the surge of confidence makes your chest swell with pride, power, and a desire to act on every illicit fantasy you’ve had of your girlfriend over the past few weeks.
“Naughty, naughty girl,” you say, but reward her anyway by reintroducing your hand to her pussy, this time using three digits to plunge directly into her sweltering heat. Seulgi lets out a sharp gasp, and when your fingers start curling against her walls, the gasps start turning into deeper, louder moans.
“Ooh god! Oh my god, that feels so good, your fingERS!” At that reaction, you know you’ve found the sweet spot.
“Does that feel good?”
You rub that same spot again, and Seulgi vigorously nods. “Yes! Yes, please! Right there!” Your fingers, your entire hand, is already soaking wet, but you don’t care. One hand palming and knead her breasts while the other relentlessly assaults her G-spot, Seulgi’s body shaking with an overwhelming feeling of sheer ecstasy, unabashedly screaming as the accuracy of your fingers and the ferocity of both hands, eventually joining at her overstimulated pussy, increase until, finally, she lets out a brief warning cry before a jet of fluids hits you square on the jaw. “Oh my—” Seulgi, seeing it happen, is half-laughing, half-moaning, wholly red-faced, rides out her orgasm with your fingers that continue to rub that sweet spot, spraying your clavicle, your arm, the bed sheets, and everything in between until she comes off that high.
“Wow.”
As you take your hands away from Seulgi to wipe the mess she made on you, the blushing and laughing girl gets up and moves her hands to help you. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”
“…to just squirt on me so feroc—” Seulgi slaps your shoulder before you can finish the sentence, causing you to burst into laughter.
“Don’t just say it! It’s embarrassing!”
“It’s not embarrassing, it’s hot.” Ordinarily, you might’ve felt out-of-place using such language to Seulgi, of all people, but with how embarrassed she is, you can’t help but want to tease her more. Not to mention, she is your girlfriend. As hard as that is to believe, still.
“Well, if it’s hot, then…” Seulgi’s hand slows to a crawl, most of her fluids having been wiped off you already, “…then…?” Her eyes dart to your clothed shorts, which come flying off in the next few seconds, and Seulgi laying down on her back yet again in the following seconds.
But as you’re positioning yourself between her legs, you realize, “…wait. Condom. This time, we actually have them this time.”
“No.”
God.
The first time Seulgi had such a reaction, it was more emphatic, rushed, impatient, needy, horny. This time, she’s more steadfast, concise, but it’s no less heart-wrenchingly arousing.
“Then, what was the point of buying them?”
“That’s what I was saying.”
Despite being her boyfriend, you find that you still have an immense desire to protect her. It’s just now, the way to protect her has shifted: before, it was mostly to protect her from undue advances, but to still give her room to make her own decisions and build the relationships she wants to build. Now, it’s to protect her from herself, and from yourself as well.
“Are you not going to let me get them?”
Seulgi grins. “Nope.” Her legs wrap around your waist. Her sultry gaze bores into you, trapping you, disengaging that protective desire entirely.
“You’re…” you fling off your shirt, grinning to yourself a little as her eyes are magnetized to your torso. Ever since then, you’ve found even more motivation to hit the gym more often, for precisely moments like this. And, although not much as changed, it still makes you feel amazing when Seulgi can’t help but stare. “…such a naughty girl, aren’t you?”
“Well, if that’s makes me naughty, then what about you?” she says to you, who is positioning your dick against her entrance, “my partner-in-crime?”
You answer only by pushing yourself into her, and Seulgi responds with a breathy moan, her back arching off the bed slightly, her legs tensing and her walls flexing as they take your girth in. “God, so tight…”
Your hands gravitate to her waist, and hers to your forearms, driving your cock into her core mercilessly. Deeper, faster, harder, the sound of Seulgi’s moans mix with your own to create a symphony of pleasure that fills the quaint bedroom.
“Yes, oh my god.”
Your eyes are trained on Seulgi, drowning in ecstasy, reveling in all the rough love and attention you’re pounding into her body. All this time, you’ve held Seulgi on somewhat of a pedestal: she’s this sweet, innocent, kind princess that needs to be protected. Now, having heard her clearly expressing her desire to not be treated as such, you’re abandoning the year of pre-conceived notions you’ve developed of Seulgi to adhere to her wishes. “You’re so unbelievably sexy, Seulgi.”
It was a purely incidental action, how your grip of her tiny waist tightened and inadvertently lifted it slightly. That slight shift changed the angle you’re penetrating her at, and in doing so, incidentally caused her back to arch well off the bed. “Ooh god, yes! Right there!”
While it wasn’t intentional, you intend to take full advantage of it. You aim your next thrust for that same spot, and Seulgi reacts with another ecstatic scream. Another, and another, and the more accurate you become, the closer you can her getting: her walls tighten around your cock, her hands clench around your arms. Swaying, moving, rocking in synchronization with your rhythmic motions, the jiggling of her petite breasts catching your eye. You oblige their cry for attention, and when your fingers finally close in on her nipples, Seulgi lets out another warning yelp. “Baby, I’m going to—hnng, I’m going to cum, oh my god, oh my—” Her voice fills the room, fills the apartment, perhaps even the building, and as she vibrates violently against your cock that’s now being flooded with a second tsunami of her wetness, you’re equally unrelenting. “God, oh my god—” Seulgi’s eyes are rolled back, and you make sure to ride out her orgasm to its peak and all the way back down, nearly a minute later, when she finally reaches ground level again.
You extract your sopping wet cock from her pussy and let her bathe in the afterglow of her climax. However, barely a few seconds afterwards, she turns her head to look at you. “You didn’t…”
“It’s ok. Take the rest you need.”
Seulgi shakes her head, flips herself around, and tucks her knees in to prop her ass up at you. Her thighs and buttocks are still shimmering with her ejaculate, and when she reaches around to pry apart those plump pair of mounds apart, two sets of glistening, pink folds stare back at you. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”
Seulgi can’t even finish that sentence before your hands are placed on her romp and your dick is buried all the way to the hilt inside her drooling snatch. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, re-immersing yourself in her heat, her pussy trapping you again in its vice-grip. Seulgi, having just come down from her climax and having not been given much of a break from orgasm to orgasm, how heavily overstimulated she is made worse by how fiercely you’re ravaging her, every thrust carrying with it the full ferocity and pent-up lust from watching Seulgi succumb to two orgasms. The harder you go, the more prominent the sound of her rotund romp slapping against your crotch is, and the deeper you push yourself inside her, the deeper Seulgi’s face sinks into her pillow.
Seulgi, barely able to form coherent words, completely surrenders control of her body to you. Rocking back and forth, each pistoning motion slathering your dick with more of her honey, which then gets splattered all over her bubble butt at each impact.
“Seulgi…”
“Hmm!” Upon realizing that she can’t get the words out, she desperately reaches for you, curling her feet around your knees, trying to tell you by any means possible to stay.
“You want me to cum inside you so badly, then fucking take it!”
At the apex of one last thrust, you unleash a torrent of your seed, and Seulgi, feeling the intense stream of the hot, sticky fluids rushing into her womb, screams into the pillow as the third orgasm of the night wracks her body. When the two of you finally settle down, Seulgi pulls you into her arms to nuzzle against your neck. “I’m … wow. You were so amazing, baby. I can’t believe you … I … three times…”
“You believe me now?”
“Hm?”
“That, if I were to have my way, you’d never have a break?”
Seulgi smiles and nods, craning her head up to plant a chaste kiss on your lips. “Yeah. From now on, you have to let me know when you want to do it, ok?”
The end result was the two of you agreeing to be more open about your sexual needs, and while you still held back a decent amount of time, especially on nights before her games, it led to, for example…
“Right here?”
Seulgi lets out a groan when your tongue flattens against her damp slit. “Why not?”
“…it’s embarrassing…”
“Why? It’s just the two of us.”
Seulgi throws her head back against the couch backrest as your fingers brush against the hard nub sitting north of her labia. “B-But…”
“Do you want me to stop?”
Slowly, bashfully, Seulgi shakes her head, and you take that as permission to dive deeper between her legs. “Ooh my gosh…” the low, grumbling moan tumbles out of Seulgi’s lips, and the more contact your tongue makes with her snatch, the louder it becomes. It barely takes a minute before she’s bucking into your face, so you oblige her wordless request and push your tongue past her folds and into her cunt. “Aah, baby~”
The only way you can respond is with increased eagerness, which you do by adding your hand into the equation. With your fingers playing with her clit and your tongue splitting her pussy walls apart, Seulgi can’t help but buck harder and harder into your face until she becomes completely undone, not sparing a single square inch of your face with her slick. When you pull away, Seulgi is breathing heavily, fully reclined against the couch, and your feel like you can barely keep your eyes open. “That was quite a bit—” the culprit of the situation takes a look at you and bursts out into embarrassed laughter.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”
“It’s ok, I think I need to go wash my face, though.”
A few days later, Seulgi decides to pay you off in the kitchen.
“Just let me do everything, ok?” You wordlessly let her take your boxers off, and when your dick falls out from the piece of underwear, she grabs it tenderly in her soft, velvety hands. “Look at you, already so hard.”
The sight before you, of Seulgi on her knees, your hardening cock in hand, feels blasphemous. Someone like Kang Seulgi doesn’t belong on her knees—in fact, it should probably be the other way around. Yet, she’s the one who insisted on doing this to you. Who are you to tell her what she should and shouldn’t do?
“Exposing your waist like that, how could I not be?”
You had initially thought that convincing Seulgi to wear more casual clothes around the house would spare you from the insanely eye-popping outfits she used to don on a day-to-day basis, but as you’ve learned over the weeks, that was only partially true. Among those pieces of loungewear were looser outfits, for sure, but the one she is wearing now is nothing short of jaw-dropping. Her slutty little waist on full display, the top stretching just far enough to cup the underside of her breasts, accompanied by a low-hanging pair of shorts that sit just above the intersection of her legs—and then, come time to cook dinner, she tells you that she wants to suck you off right then and there in the kitchen? Such a proposition is physically, emotionally, and mentally impossible to say ‘no’ to.
“Oh,” Seulgi says, her fingers wrapping around your girth and beginning to apply a pumping motion to your length, “so all I have to do is to wear something like this if I want to do it, then?”
“Seulgi, all you have to do is to kiss me for longer than two seconds.” Seulgi giggles, and then places her lips onto your dick. You let out a groan. Your fists ball into fists, another louder groan escaping your lips as she swallows your glans into her mouth. “Shit…”
You can feel her tongue twirling around the sensitive tip of your dick, holding it inside her mouth for a few seconds before letting it slip back out. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, winking to you before taking half your length in one fell swoop.
“Agh, fuck—” Seulgi never takes her eyes off you, and when you let out that swear, the smile in her eyes brightens. You’ve noticed that Seulgi, for some reason, loves it when you accidentally utter that word during sex. Because of that, you’ve developed an even greater incentive to stop yourself from saying it at all costs, but in this instance, the curse just flies out of your mouth before you can think to stop it.
“Mmm~”
Her soft, plump lips glide along the circumference of your cock as her tongue caresses its sensitive underside, every back-and-forth motion covering more of your shaft with saliva. It’s a devastatingly sexy visual, one that you can’t take your eyes off of, and how firmly Seulgi is maintaining eye-contact with you only adds to it. It’s an image you want to burn into your retinas forever, but each time your dick hits the back of her throat, you can feel your focus slipping away little by little. Seulgi, meanwhile, is happily humming along as she hollows her already slim cheeks out.
Clenching your fists tighter is all you can do to stay upright, and Seulgi, seeing from the corner of her vision, takes your cock out of her mouth to say, “Baby, you can use your hands if you want.”
“…and do what with them?”
“Put them on the back of my head.”
Day by day, you feel like you’re learning that Seulgi is freakier than she lets on. That pure, loving, happy-go-lucky personality, the beaming eye-smile and the sunny disposition has etched a certain type of persona in your mind that you felt like Seulgi embodied, but when she tells you that she wants you to fuck her face, that image is being shattered week by week.
“A-Are you sure?”
“I’ll tap your hands if I think it’s too much. Although, I doubt you can make me feel that way.”
Seulgi takes your cock back into her mouth, and you put a cautious pair of hands on her head. She nods encouragingly, still maintaining eye-contact with you, and as she resumes her blowjob, your feel your hands following the bobbing motion of her head. It feels good enough already, and as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, you feel your hands tightening around her head, grabbing fistfuls of her hair.
Does she really want you to fuck her face? But what if you’re too rough? She did say she would warn you if that was the case. And, in the first place, you can’t even tell how much of her head bobbing back and forth is of her own volition and how much of it is you. All you know is that, the closer you get, the faster she goes, swapping between letting your dick pound the back of her throat and keeping it there to suck it off, and the longer it goes on, the more you feel like you’re losing your mind. Eventually, it’s the sound of your waist hitting the cabinet doors under the sink you’re leaning against that clues you in that you are, in fact, fucking Seulgi’s face, but she doesn’t make any indication of discomfort. Tears start welling up in her eyes, but no matter how rough you get, her hands never leave their respective places: one holding your hips for stability, the other attending to your balls.
“Seulgi, I’m so close,” you groan, and Seulgi responds with increased eagerness. When it becomes clear that she wants you to unload inside her mouth, you release the tension in your nethers all at once, exploding inside her mouth. And, even as you deposit more and more of your load inside her mouth, Seulgi refuses to break eye-contact, letting her cheeks swell up until, when your orgasm comes to an end and you pull yourself out of her mouth, she’s happily kneeling in front of you with a mouth full of your seed. “Um, the sink’s right here, Seulgi. Here, spit it out,” you say, reaching to help her up and stepping aside.
Seulgi, however, does no such thing. Instead, she sharply inhales through her nose, reels her head back, and in one gulp, swallows the entire thing. You can only stare, half in lustful awe and half in disgust, as her throat flexes impressively to compensate for the sudden intake of fluids now running down her esophagus.
“Oh my god…”
“Why would I need to spit it out? After I worked so hard for it.”
“That’s…” you don’t even know what to say. It can’t be very appetizing, but maybe for women, it’s different? Then again, it’s not like you minded having your entire face covered in her cum, or even swallowing a little bit of it.
“Ok, go back to your room.”
“Huh? But, dinner…”
“You have a test tomorrow to study for, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“But nothing! Go study! I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”
“I can help a little bit, though.”
“No!” Seulgi insists, on her feet already and trying to push you out the kitchen. “Go!”
“Um, ok, but at least let me get my pants first.”
“Oh.” Seulgi laughs and takes her hands off you. You put your pants back on, but right after you turn around and take a few steps, Seulgi calls back out to you.
“Hm?”
“I’ll take a kiss as payment.”
Seulgi is standing there, arms outstretched, head tilted slightly upwards, lips puckered, and you laugh. By now, it feels like this pose is her signature pose, and every time, you happily oblige. This time is no different: you give her a quick peck on the lips, thank her and tell her you love her, and then disappear back into your bedroom.
As your relationship with Seulgi deepened, Irene began a new one. Apparently, Jenny, someone who share classes with you and Irene confessed to her out of the blue, and for whatever reason, Irene accepted. You say that because, despite spending more time with Seulgi now that the two of you are a couple, you still spend a good amount of time with Irene, sharing so many classes together and all, and have never really noticed Irene and Jenny talking to each other.
“I told you.”
“What?”
You grin at Seulgi. “Irene did have a crush on you. She can’t have had a crush on me if she doesn’t like men, right?”
“But the fact that she’s going out with Jenny now means that it wasn’t me that she liked, but her, right?”
“Maybe, but it at least means that it wasn’t me that she liked.”
“Hm…”
“…what?”
Seulgi takes a second to answer you. “I don’t know. Something seems weird though. Don’t you think so, too?”
“Well, a little? I guess I didn’t really think Irene knew Jenny that well, but…”
“Doesn’t it seem like … I don’t know, rushed?”
You came to the exact same conclusion, but it wasn’t your place to make such determinations. If Irene wanted to accept Jenny’s confession, then that was that. “Why do you say that?”
“I mean … don’t tell her I said this, ok?” You nod. “I want to be happy for Irene, but she didn’t seem that excited. You know? Like, she almost seemed more excited when I told her that we started dating.” Now that you think back to it, that did seem the case.
“But then, why would she accept the confession?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know.”
It’s been one thing that you noticed, that the two of you candidly talk about Irene a lot. Initially, you tried to tiptoe around talking about her too much, but in the end, Seulgi never seemed to show any jealousy or any such adverse reaction to talking about another women to her boyfriend. It is her best friend, you reason to yourself, so maybe it’s not that bad to talk about Irene, specifically? After all, you don’t really talk about other women that frequently, and especially on the topic of romance.
“Well, we just have to trust that Irene knows what she’s doing.”
The two of you closely tracked Irene’s relationship with Jenny, but as it went on, even you felt like it was a bit too one-sided. Being that Irene was still the best friend of Seulgi and yourself, the two of you would still ask her to hang out every now and then, and whenever you did, Irene never seemed too reluctant to give up time with her girlfriend over spending time with the two of you. The best you could do was watch from the sidelines and hope things were going well with them. As their relationship progressed, so too did your relationship with Seulgi.
“You really bought this, huh?”
Seulgi laughed. “I know right? It was sooo embarrassing, and I was wearing a mask and everything. And what’s worse, when I got to the cash register, I dropped them both on the ground and spent almost an entire minute trying to pick them back up, and when I was trying to get my credit card out of my wallet, it wouldn’t come out, so the clerk was just staring at me for maybe a full minute or two, just watching me fumbling and silently judging me.”
Classic, cute, clumsy Seulgi. “You could’ve told me to buy it.”
“No! It was my suggestion, so it should be me who buys it, right?”
You look at the bottle of lube and butt plug Seulgi handed you a few minutes ago, in equal parts giddiness and bashfulness. “I guess…” This time, the two of you are on your bed, having decided to give Seulgi’s a break, seeing as how the two of you used it and only it the first few months of the relationship. “But … right now?”
“Yeah! I mean, I won player of the game in my last match, don’t I deserve a reward?”
You laugh. “Is that why you were playing so hard?”
Seulgi turns red. Rather, even redder than she already is. “Well, that’s no the only reason!” You don’t reply, and sure enough, she continues, “I just … did have the thought that, if I did win player of the game, then you would agree to this.”
It goes without saying that Seulgi is incredibly athletic. Maybe it’s in part because she’s a volleyball player that her lower body is so well toned—albeit, she is a libero, so there isn’t much of a need to have jumping height—but Seulgi’s pussy always felt tight to you. Did regular strenuous activity have an impact on that? You aren’t sure, but what you have been sure about is that anal is out of the question, at least without some serious help.
So, this is why she got home so late, huh? You figured it was a post-game meeting that held her up, but it was actually that Seulgi visited a certain special store to pick up some special equipment.
“Are you really sure you want to do this?” Seulgi nods with all the eagerness of a golden retriever hearing the word ‘walk’. “Ok.”
“Yay! I love you so much!”
You sigh.
This is so ridiculous. Why is it that Seulgi is the one thanking you for agreeing to do anal? Logically, in all sane realities, it should be the other way around. It should be you begging Seulgi to do it, and only after months of convincing and setting up the perfect date involving a candle-lit dinner and a trip to the spa that she would finally relent.
“Ok.”
By the time you’ve gathered up your resolve, Seulgi is already without clothes, laying face-down on your bed with her knees tucked into her stomach and her legs spread, pointing her butt directly at you. “I’m ready, honey~”
At such a sexy sight, for a moment, the instructions Seulgi had you watch about applying the lube all but disappeared from your brain. Despite it being a few months already—actually, to be fair, it’s only been a few months, so you feel perfectly justified in having such a stupefied, dumbfounded reaction to Seulgi presenting her very shapely ass to you. Seeing it covered in their volleyball uniform is one thing, but seeing it in person—unblemished, tight skin, juicy, taking a few deep breaths is all you can do to stop yourself from taking a handful or slapping it to watch it jiggle in recoil.
“Ok, I’m starting.”
Applying a generous glob of the lubricant to your fingers, you set the bottle down on the nightstand, using one hand to part her butt cheeks while the fingers of the other rubs the cream-like substance around the rim of her backdoor. At the contact, you can hear Seulgi gasp, and you can also see the puckered hole reactively clenching, but as you apply the cool fluid against the hole, Seulgi manages to loosen it back up.
“Ok, I’m done with the first step,” you tell her, reaching for the butt plug and applying another generous glob onto it. You make sure it’s on the smallest size before asking again, “Ready for step two?”
“Mhm!”
Seulgi’s normally chipper voice is laced with the slightest bit of hesitation, and that in and of itself gives you pause. But, if you’ve learned anything about Seulgi in the time you’ve spent as her boyfriend and partner in bed, it’s that Seulgi is much, much sturdier than she looks. When you press the toy against her rear, Seulgi lets out another gasp, and you wait for her to relax before you ease it in.
“Mmm~”
The sexy, low moan that rumbles out of Seulgi’s throat stirs something deep inside you. You make sure you’re rotating it as it inches in, bit by bit, inside her butt. “Are you ok?”
“Mhm…” Seulgi’s response comes out as a wistful kind of low moan.
You continue to ease it in until all that’s left is the handle. “Ok, that’s everything. I’m going to proceed to step three, alright?”
“No wait!” Seulgi’s eyes open and she pushes herself off your bed, wincing a little as the sex toy shifts a little inside her. “I want to do it.”
A few seconds later, you’re left with only your shirt on, Seulgi with the bottle of lube in one hand while the other is gently stroking your erection, kneeling between your legs and face inches away from the thing she’s supposed to be lubing up. “Seulgi…?”
“Hm?” She looks up at you and sees that you’re looking at the bottle of lube she apparently forgot about. “Oh, right.” She deposits a healthy amount of the lubricant onto her hands and begins rubbing it along your shaft. You flinch, the cool, slippery substance sending shivers up your spine, and Seulgi, clearly amused at your reaction, is closely observing your reaction, grinning to herself while she applies it.
“Stop laughing.”
“I’m not laughing!”
“You’re smiling.”
“No, I’m not!”
“I can hear it in your voice, baby.”
It’s only now that Seulgi finally lets out a laugh. “I’m so sorry! But you look so cute, grimacing like that!”
You don’t know how anyone could perceive the face you were just making as ‘cute’—you certainly didn’t feel cute—but you’ve learned not to question Seulgi whenever she makes these types of comments. After all, she did fall in love with you.
After about a minute, Seulgi gets back up to a sitting position. “Ok, done!” She sets the bottle on the nightstand and turns around, presenting her ass with the handle of the sex toy sticking out of the puckered hole to you.
“Ok. Are you sure you’re ready?”
Seulgi turns her head to look at you, giggling. “Are you?”
“…I don’t know, to be honest.”
Seulgi laughs. “It’ll be no different than normal! I’ll make sure to let you know if I ever want you to stop, I promise. Ok?”
“Right.” Hearing that soothes your anxiety somewhat. Knowing Seulgi, you half believe that Seulgi is so insistent about this because she assumes you would want to do this with her, and you even more so believe that she would refrain from letting you know about any discomfort if she knows you’re enjoying yourself. In none of your time together has Seulgi ever voiced any discomfort or anything of the sort, but maybe you can credit that to you being overly cautious. Admittedly, the majority of your concern regarding this is losing yourself so much that you don’t even notice Seulgi’s cries for you to stop until it’s too late, and amongst everything else you’ve tried, this has the greatest potential for harm. “But, really, even if you feel even slightly—”
“Baby,” Seulgi turns around fully this time, soothingly placing a hand on your arm, “I’ll be ok. I promise.”
You nod. “Right. Ok. I’m ready.”
Seulgi gives you a quick kiss in gratitude before turning back around, bending over for ease of access. “I’m also ready.” Your fingers wrap around the handle, and slowly, you pull it out of her backdoor. You can feel Seulgi shudder against your hands as you do so, her moans coming out louder and more clearly this time, and when you finally finish extracting the butt plug, Seulgi lets out a throaty sigh that borders on a moan.
You take a second to admire just how much work the phallus has done in stretching out the hole, then plant your butt on the mattress and guide her onto your lap. This time, when your dick prods at her entrance, Seulgi lets out a whimper. “Seulgi?”
“Yes, please, put it in.”
You take a quick second to steel yourself before pushing past the tight ring of her anus and sinking your length into her lubricated hole.
“Shit, holy fuck, Seulgi.”
This time, you don’t think Seulgi can even hear you say the curse word even as she throws her head back onto your shoulder. The deeper your cock dives into her, the deeper her gasps grow, gasping which gradually transforms into panting. More than the tight pressure of her sphincter muscles is applying to your cock, hearing her gasping so much in sheer elation, feeling her leaning so far back against your chest, feeling her silky hair rubbing against your nape as Seulgi’s body is wracked with the fullness of your cock filling a hole that was never meant to be filled in such a manner is turning you on even more.
“Yes, keep going baby, more.”
You take a second upon fully hilting her to give her tiny hole a second’s reprieve to stretch and accommodate your dick before pulling your hips back and slamming the entirety of your length back inside her. Seulgi’s entire body shakes, its reverberations transferring onto your lap, and when you thrust back into her again, the gasps quickly turn into whimpers.
“Fuck!”
Less often than you using the word, even less often does Seulgi use the word. And hearing her say it in such an emphatic manner turns the dial of arousal from eleven all the way up to twenty.
“Oh, oh my god!” One hand on her waist to push her up and down your shaft while the other wraps around her lap to stabilize her from the front, you use every ounce of strength in your core to push yourself deep into her asshole. “Yes! Baby, keep going! Oh my god, that feels so good!”
You can feel her feet dangling off the edge of the bed, curling and pressing against your shins, her entire body rocking with the force of your every thrust.
“Hmm, you’re so sexy, Seulgi.”
You grumble the word, pressing your lips against her throat, and Seulgi lets out a groan of her own, pressing her cheek against the crown of your head. Her hands curl up against the bedsheets, each thrust causing her sopping wet cunt to leak out more and more of her nectar.
“Ah, I’m—I’m, oh my god, I’m—…I can’t, I’m can’t, oh my god, I’m going to—nng, fuck!”
Your parents have never been particularly strict about using such language, but you try to refrain whenever you can. There are times when it just comes out naturally, mostly from frustration or in pain. However, around Seulgi, there’s something about her that makes you even more aware of the word. It’s like she has some kind of calming effect on you, or rather, more like her very presence makes you more self-conscious about just about everything. Obscene topics, talking bad about people, curse words, everything.
You’re also the type of guy who likes it when your girlfriend tries not to swear, as you do. Or at least, that’s what you thought.
But with Seulgi, everything’s different. Around her, you feel like you’re being forced to be the best version of yourself you can be—and that very effect, the cause of that effect, is Seulgi herself, who is probably just about the best, kindest, most humble and caring and loving human being on the planet. So that’s why, when you hear her swear for the second time in the span of a few seconds, the fingers that were just playing at her sputtering folds dove in without a second’s hesitation.
You can feel Seulgi’s entire body react to sudden intrusion of your two digits into her other hole. Seulgi, mind completely overrun with pleasure, is unable to do anything but chant your name in between moans and gasps. Her body shifts in tandem with the pounding motion of your cock, and your fingers take barely a minute to find her G-spot and rubbing that. And, when that happens, it takes only a few seconds before Seulgi barely chokes out a warning scream before she erupts, exploding past your hand and squirting all over the opposite wall.
“Let all out, baby.” You can feel her shuddering even more as you whisper the words into her ear. “Let it all out.” It’s a pretty breath-taking sight: it’s almost like her entire body is being wracked with pleasure all at once, as opposed to what ordinarily looks like a wave of ecstasy that rolls through her body. As you continue to let her ride out her orgasm, you watch in a lustful kind of awe as Seulgi’s body shudders like you’ve never seen it before. The tightness of her anus contracts, her vaginal walls tightly grip the now three digits that are buried inside her heat, and every convulsion lets out another wave of ejaculate. It takes a few seconds for the intensity of her squirting to stop hitting the wall, and about another minute for her to come all the way down off that high. When she does, against the better judgement of the quickly tightening knot in your lower region, you slow down to a halt. “Need a breather?”
Seulgi nods wearily, panting heavily against your shoulder. Maybe about half a minute later, she speaks up. “Do you want to cum inside here this time?”
You chuckle at that. “Can I?”
She nods. “I want to feel it, too. I want to feel you filling this hole up too.”
You take that as permission to resume, justified in the groan that tumbles out of Seulgi’s lips when you draw your hips back and slam your length back inside her anus. It takes barely a minute to find your rhythm again, except this time, your other hand is on her breasts, cupping the pliable flesh in your palms, letting your fingers sink deeply into the plush texture of the fatty tissue. Every time her body bounces against your lap, they bounce in your hand, and every time you squeeze those hardened teats, Seulgi lets out another whimper.
“Seulgi, I’m so close.”
“Mmm~”
You can feel her nodding in the form of her crown rubbing against your cheek. Every squeeze of her anus exerts on your cock, now also being lubricated by the cum that’s flowing down from her pussy and onto your shaft, brings you one step closer to the precipice.
“Go on baby,” Seulgi whispers, her back arching into your hand as it progressively roughens the squeezing it’s doing on her boobs, “I want to feel it all.”
“Mmm, god, Seulgi, I’m cumming—”
A few more pumps and you explode, spilling waves and waves of baby batter into the hole that’s incapable of making babies.
“Hooh my god, so warm!”
Each thrust inside her asshole is met with equal vigor, the damp sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin joining the cacophony of lewd sounds echoing about the bedroom. Her anus squeezes and squeezes your convulsing cock, greedily taking in every ounce of seed it can take, and then some, leaking out of the tight connection. After you’re spent, you collapse onto the mattress, your softening member slipping out of Seulgi’s backdoor as she pushes herself off you and takes her place inside your arms.
“See? That was pretty amazing, right?”
“…yeah, it was.”
Seulgi giggles and pecks you on the cheek. “Thank you for agreeing to try it out. I know how stressed out you were about accidentally hurting me, but, I’ll have you know, I’m even ready for round two if you are.” You look over at her, who is simply shooting a cheeky grin at you. “I think my other hole is jealous it got to eat such a delicious, full meal.”
Similarly to ‘fuck’, there’s something about Seulgi’s dirty talk that also gets to you. While your refractory period is still active, those words alone, you feel, pushed that fatigue back a couple of minutes, at least. The fact that Seulgi is blushing furiously at having said such lewd words adds to the appeal, too.
“Oh, is it?”
“Yeah. You should do something about it.”
You swing yourself atop her and straddle the svelte woman, looking down at her bright, eager expression. “Maybe I should.”
The very next day, although Seulgi found herself a little sore, she didn’t even hesitate when Irene asked to come the two of you to come over to her place, seemingly with important news.
“Irene?” As soon as the door opened, Irene tackled Seulgi with a hug. Seulgi, a bit startled, wrapped her arms around Irene anyway, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to her. You, watching, couldn’t help but swoon a little at the sight. “What’s wrong?”
“I … broke up with Jenny.”
“Oh no! What? Why? What happened?”
Irene removed her face from Seulgi’s shoulder to look at her. “It was me who broke up with her.”
“Did something happen?”
Irene sighed, turning her eyes at you and offering a smile. You smile back, just as confused as your significant other.
“Um … well, sort of.” Irene steps out of Seulgi’s embrace. “Let’s talk in the living room.”
After the three of you are seated, Seulgi sitting next to Irene on the couch, holding her best friend’s hand and gently caressing it with her thumb, you seated opposite them. In that moment, a brief, random though appears in your head, a flash of inspiration from the scene before you: your girlfriend and your best friend, her best friend, look good together.
You shake your head. What are you thinking?
“I realized that I was just using Jenny. And when I realized that, I couldn’t do it anymore.” The apartment takes upon a somber atmosphere, a nearly palpable one. “I realized I was just … trying to run away.” Seulgi nods empathetically, continuing to gently rub Irene’s hand. “I … oh my gosh, I don’t know if I can say this.”
“Take your time, Irene. If you don’t want to share, you don’t have to.”
Those soothing words from you seem to be what gives her the courage to continue. “When I helped convince Seulgi to confess to you,” Irene glances at you for a spit second before her eyes go back onto the ground, “I just wanted to be a good friend. And I knew how much Seulgi loved you. But, the entire time, it just … I couldn’t … oh, my god…”
Tears started falling down her face, and Seulgi’s lips pulled into a frown. She looked on the verge of tears herself, reaching up and lightly dabbing the droplets away with her sleeve.
“…I felt like a horrible person. I just wanted to escape from it all. I thought I just had to create some distance, so when Jenny confessed to me, a terrible thought formed in my head: maybe, if I became Jenny’s girlfriend, I could get over all those horrible thoughts. But I never did, and every day, it just became apparent that I wasn’t being fair to Jenny. Because, in the end, I thought it was just Seulgi that I’m in love with, but it turns out, I’m also in love with you.”
Irene’s gaze lands on you. For a brief few seconds, silence. Then, you and Seulgi exchange glances, and, inexplicably, break out into smiles.
“Looks like I was right.”
“Looks like I was also right.”
Irene blinked. “…What?”
You’ve spent just over a year bonding with Seulgi, being her friend, then close friend, then boyfriend. It’s said that a couple eventually grow to become like each other over time. You can’t fathom ever becoming the type of person Seulgi is, and you can’t fathom Seulgi ever not being the benevolent person she is, but in that one moment, for the first time, you and her brain connected.
“Well, if it’s both of us that you love…”
“…then, why don’t you become both of our girlfriends?”
COP OUT ENDING, I KNOW, I'M SORRY 😭
BUT, ON THE OTHER HAND...
Part 3...? 👀👀
P.S. I did almost no editing/revising of this, so if you spotted any errors (probably have more than one verb tense errors, and perhaps a pronoun error, as I write in third person for other stuff), please let me know! :D
Two members of the same group, that liked the way things be done, the way they are done, in very different ways.
Sua winks at you mid workout, and you stop your set to look around—the gym is deserted except for the two of you, perfect.
You find Jiu at a secluded staircase, away from the main party, and her soft smile is the invitation, perfect.
"Here?" you ask.
Sua doesn't reply, choosing instead to go to an open bench. She bends over and stretches, breathing in deeply and exhaling as she comes up, her tight and appropriately Bora-colored top heaving. You lean over her, hand on her waist and fingers playing with the hem of her leggings. Down you pull.
Jiu doesn't reply, speaking with her actions instead. She kisses you, slipping you something into your hands—her panties. *Yes, here.* With a knowing smirk she turns around, letting you run your hands down her waist, the tight form-fitting dress doing nothing to hide her curves and everything to enhance them. You get to the edge of her dress quickly—it's so short, stopped so high up her thighs that any higher would make it a top rather than a dress. Up you hike.
"Oh fuck!" You're looming over Sua on the bench, two hands on her hips holding her like a cocktail shaker. Back and forth you go, shaking her vigorously, making her jiggle and bounce if she wasn't so tightly bound by hairband and sports bra. Her legs do shake on every thrust, and when you slap her ass she cries out, loud moan ringing in the deserted gym. The bench creaks as you fuck her harder, and Sua's not idle either—Her nails dig into the leather of the bench, and she's trying to push back against you, ass tilted up, meeting each thrust with a push off the bench. She's dripping sweat and slick on to the equipment, staining it with a stickiness you hope you'll remember to clean up. Fuck she feels good, you speed up.
"Oh fuck..." Jiu breathes, bracing herself on the windowsill—even with her heels on she's pushed on her toes just that little bit more, all to get you deeper in her. Jiu grinds against you, your hands on her hips gently guiding her gyrations. You wrap a hand around her front, feeling her flat tummy twitch when you're hilted inside her. You hold yourself there, feeling her twitches get more violent as you stir your hips a little. You press Jiu further against the windowsill and push in, making her leave her feet and letting gravity pin her womb against your tip. Immediately she begins leaking, stifled moans escaping both of you as she contracts around your cock. You slow down, and Jiu's leaking speeds up—you slow down further.
"Oh fuck me, give it to me!" There are sweat patterns in the shape of Sua's tits as you press her down on the bench. The perfect drink is made from your cock and Sua's tail, juicy cheeks squishing oh so nicely against your hips. She's begging you to fuck her harder, in between feral grunts of pure pleasure, delighting in the violent way you're rutting into her, rattling her frame against the bench with every thrust. You shake and shake, and when you're finally done shaking Sua around your cock there's only one thing to do.
Pour.
"Hnngh! Yessss!" You tip yourself over Sua quite literally and begin pouring your potent drink straight into her babymaking cup. Her legs kick up, her whole body trembling and twitching—it's so hot inside her! She gurgles when you pull out, lower lips wastefully spilling it on to the bench in heavy drops—what a sloppy drinker.
"Oh yes... Give it to me." Jiu's facing you now, half-seated against the window as you grind your hips into her. She follows your movements, gyrating with you, like a drink that's stirring and creating the little cyclone in the center of the glass. Her mouth drops open, letting out tiny yelps as the two of you get sucked into the whirlpool of pleasure. Round and round you stir inside Jiu, and when both of you are close, there's only one step left to finish stirring.
Let go.
Jiu smashes her mouth into yours, whimpering as you drown and drain yourself in her hot grasp. She pulls on your jacket, fingers twisting and clenching on the fabric, a long leg trying to push you deeper into her, wanting as much of you in her as she can. Jiu whines when she feels your combined fluids trickle down her thigh—she could never keep it all down.
Weeks later, you finally hear back from your wild weekend of "drinking".
"Oppa, we have something to tell you."
One happy couple, two tests, a third wheel drained.
Four lines.
A/N: Semi-BFH, something quick after seeing Jiu in that dress and then Sua's vlog. Also saw something about shaken and stirred and drinks or something in discord? So yeah it became a whole thing. Still working on bigger stuff but between Mewgenics and Slay the Spire 2, been spending more time playing games and thinking about smut than writing smut and thinking about games lol. Thanks for reading!
9,5k words | tags: smut, some fluff and rough stuff with minjeong-ah, a little surprise
There were two things that, religiously every time you woke up, you would have to thank for the rest of the year, and those were Jeju Island and Hwang Yeji.
The little trip and the time spent with Lily and Haewon were more than necessary to clear your head. Stop thinking for a while about all the trail of shit you had left in your wake for so long. So when you landed back in Seoul, putting your life back on the rails was easier. You couldn't do it alone, of course; you required a little help from Yeji to start with the most important thing of all: convincing Rina to come to your apartment so you could apologize to her.
It was, without a doubt, the most difficult conversation you had ever had. Not because of the content of the conversation itself, but because you had no fucking idea how to start it. Yeji had told you to write a few things on your phone. Things you would like to say to her. But you refused, because you wanted to be as authentic as possible. In the end, Rina, being the complete angel that she was, managed to understand and you fixed things, but damn, that list would have come in handy. Another reason in favor of always listening to Hwang Yeji.
Although you weren't so sure you would listen to her when she suggested going to ITZY's house again for dinner.
Thank God, everything went well that night. Things were a bit awkward between you and Chaery, but as a couple of mature and emotionally intelligent adults, you didn't let your situation ruin the evening. You even made enough peace to even go out together to eat or watch movies over the four months that had passed. Never alone, however; you always went with either Lia or Ryujin. But that was already a tremendous advance.
And it goes without saying that the ones who benefited the most from being welcomed back into the house were Ryujin and Yuna. Lia and Yeji had enough decency to come to your apartment when they were horny. But Beelzebub and Asmodeus didn't give a shit about anything: they made you fuck them in the living room, the kitchen, the pool, the balconies, the garage and even the fucking basement. Chaery, being the calm girl she was, didn't care a little about all that, but it was a little uncomfortable for you.
Work, on the other hand, was going smoothly. Gunwook, after having also apologized to him—without, understandingly, his wife having apologized back to you—, it was a great help to organize everything related to your small business after months of having it a little rusty. It was perfect, because those months after your stay in Jeju were filled with world tours within the industry, which meant more cultural advice and many more groups and companies to work with.
However, as for your additional services, those that actually paid your bills, you weren't taking on new clients in any way. The offers came non-stop from different companies, but your goal, which was to purify your life a little, was never going to be achieved if you kept adding random chemical components. Many could be compatible with how you ran all your stuff, yes. But there was a very high risk that it would be quite the opposite. You didn't want to take any risk.
What you did do was go back to your roots and embrace them. Living alone, there were at least two rooms that you didn't use for anything other than carrying dust. So, one of them was completely transformed into a massage room even more sophisticated and ostentatious than your original workplace, allowing you to give sessions to all your girls like in the good old days.
Simply put, the best thing you could have done was be a jerk. It might sound a little strange to see it from that perspective, but if it hadn't been for that time when you were an idiot, maybe you wouldn't have made all those changes in your life for the better. The mud also nourished the roots, after all.
That day you had left the Starship offices late after a meeting with a couple of executives. It wasn't anything special, but one of the executives was late and you had to wait for him in the building, so you got home around 6 p.m., exhausted and wanting to take a hell of a nap.
But you were surprised to find the door to your apartment half open.
All your alarms went off.
Minjeong was supposed to come over that night to have dinner with you, but the only one who had a copy of your apartment key besides you was Rina. The girls could have it from her too, but always asking you first. Could she have stolen it? You didn't believe she was capable; Minjeong was no longer that impudent little bitch she used to be during the tour. There was no chance.
You entered cautiously—into your own apartment—completely convinced you'd left the door open when you left that morning. Anyone who saw you from outside might have thought you were training for some damn special military unit, as you went room by room checking every corner. Kitchen, master bedroom, bathrooms, your office, guest room. All empty and undisturbed. Were you being damn paranoid? Was senile dementia catching up with you so soon? For God's sake, you weren't ready for that shit.
Although, you still had one room left to check.
After leaving your things in your office, you went to the massage room. That was mostly just a formality, because who the hell would break into a massage room specifically to steal? Surely...
When you opened the door, your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.
There was a completely naked woman lying face down on your massage table, only her ass covered by a towel. Black hair, but it wasn't Rina; Rina's breasts spilled out the sides in that position; it wasn't Chaery either, because her body wasn't as toned; much less Ryujin, because this woman had long hair.
Who could this petite, slender woman with black hair be?
Someone came to mind, but... it couldn't be her, could it?
This woman had gone to the trouble of lighting candles in every corner of the massage room and adjusting the lights to make them dimmer. It was clear she was completely at ease there, as if it were her own home. You stood stunned in the doorway, thinking you were hallucinating.
Then, a voice you hadn't expected, but one you desperately wanted to hear. The voice of your platonic love.
"Damn, you really took your time, didn't you?" Jihye said, still face down, her head resting on her crossed arms. She turned her head toward you and looked at you. That damn beautiful face again. The one you'd only seen in your dreams for months. "Are you going to get started or not?"
Your body reacted long before your brain. Still speechless, you rushed to Jihye's side, and in a matter of seconds, your hands were covered in oil and working on her back. Jihye glanced at you every now and then, but with a jumble of conflicting emotions swirling around you, you couldn't meet her eyes. You didn't know whether to hate her or love her as much as you had months ago.
"What's wrong, darling?" Jihye asked. "Cat got your tongue? I don't blame you; I didn't see myself here after all this time either."
You blinked as you massaged Jihye's shoulder blades. Then a lump formed in your throat. She was really there. She was real.
"How... how could you?" That was the first thing you managed to spit out under your breath, applying more pressure to her muscles. "You left us, Jihye. You really left me and the girls stranded."
"Sweetheart..."
"Why?" you raised your voice slightly, speaking purely out of spite. "To run away and get a happy ending with your toxic ex-girlfriend? You did everything for that?"
Jihye sighed and closed her eyes.
"Honey, I know you must hate me right now, but you know you're oversimplifying it," she said. "You understand perfectly why I did what I did and why anything else would only have been worse for everyone."
"And what about...?"
"And be careful what you say about Joohyun," Jihye cut you off, as if she'd read your mind. "Things between her and me are much healthier now. Just please calm down and think like the rational person I know you are."
"I... ugh," you paused for a moment to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this moment to be like this. It's just... I haven't stopped thinking about it. I couldn't even sleep the first few weeks. It hasn't been easy."
"I tried to do things differently, believe me. I'm sorry too," Jihye said softly.
"Why didn't you tell me anything?" you asked, your hands going back to work on her body.
"You wouldn't have let me," Jihye replied. "The whole plan depended on you, especially, not knowing."
"You're right," you murmured. "But... you would have listened to me, though?"
"Who knows. It depends on how you would have asked me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Jihye opened her eyes and stared at you until you looked at her.
"You know exactly what that means."
You held her gaze for longer than you would have liked, considering your weakness for her. Yes, you definitely knew what that meant. Even so, you couldn't find the right words.
"Well, there's no point in talking about the past anymore, I guess," Jihye said, closing her eyes. "How have you been, sweetheart? I know you had a rough time."
"Ah, yes, well..." you sighed, grumbling. "I'm better, but it was awful. I let it all get to me and I didn't even recognize myself."
"You made me worried."
"I'm sorry," you said, massaging her waist and lower back. "Things are so much better now."
"Hm, I'm glad, honey."
"Yeji made it all possible, honestly. Without her lectures I wouldn't have gotten anywhere."
Jihye let out a small laugh.
"Yeah, it's good to have a woman like that in your life."
"Well, not to put her down, but I wish you had been there. The woman I needed was you."
Jihye was silent for a few seconds. Then you heard her take a deep breath.
"I said I'm sorry, darling," she said. "I know the place I left you in might weigh on you a little. But hey, look how far you've come! It seems like it was just yesterday when we met at the girls' house. Back then, I thought you were good for nothing but using that piece of meat you have hanging between your legs."
You both laughed.
"Definitely one of my best qualities, yes," you agreed. "But luckily I'm versatile enough."
"Versatile enough to know how to use those hands of yours, damn," Jihye sighed as you massaged her thighs. "You're melting me."
"Good to know."
Silence fell between you for a few brief minutes, during which you happily worked on the rest of Jihye's body. It still felt surreal to have her in front of you; you constantly felt in a strange state where you thought you were dreaming. You had longed to see this woman again for months, and now that you were reunited, you felt like something was pulling you back, preventing you from enjoying it properly.
"How are you, Jihye?" you asked after a while. "How's the new job going?"
"Oh, everything's going great," Jihye replied. "Now I'm sitting at a table with people who actually listen to me and care about what I have to say.
"Just as you deserve," you said, hiding a small smile. "And what about Joohyun? How are things between you two?"
"Better than ever, honestly," she said. "Red Velvet has been inactive for quite a while, so she's had plenty of free time during which we managed to work things out. Besides, we don't have to hide absolutely everything about ourselves anymore."
The smile you tried to hide finally surfaced.
"That's good, honey," you said after a few seconds. "It's... a relief that you're happy."
"Even if it's not with you?"
You pursed your lips and tilted your head. Damn, that was a blow.
"Your happiness is mine," you replied from the bottom of your heart. "I think that's all I can say."
Jihye smiled.
"And yours is mine," she said. "Although I know what happened with Chaery wasn't easy."
You grimaced and shook your head.
"It definitely wasn't. But I think I'm over it now."
"And... not even a lovebird out there?"
"I mean, the closest thing I have to that is Ning. But we've never made anything official. You know how that girl is."
"Yeah she's a sweetheart, but she's not the type to make the first move. Are you planning on doing it?"
"Honestly, I don't know. I haven't had time to think about it."
"Understandable. By the way, I wish I could say I came just to chat, but there are some work things we need to talk about."
"It's okay," you said, reaching for your pants to unbutton them. "I appreciate you not starting with that and letting the foreplay be the catching up."
Jihye burst out laughing and reached out to grab your wrist and stop you.
"Calm down, horny boy!" she said. "I wasn't talking about that kind of work, moron. Not right now."
"Oh, right," you buttoned your pants back up. "Sorry. What's it about?"
"It's HYBE."
"HYBE? Interesting."
"They've contacted all the big companies you've worked for and are considering you for a pretty important role," Jihye said, lying on her side and propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. It was extremely difficult not to focus on her breasts. "I don't know exactly what they want you for, but the greedy bastards want to buy everyone else out and have you exclusively for their use."
"That's a surprise," you said, grabbing a towel to dry the oil on your hands. "I always felt like out of the Big Four, HYBE was the only one that hated me."
"Nah, they just didn't need you yet. That's how they operate," Jihye said. "The other thing I can tell you is that there's going to be a small party this weekend that you'll be invited to. A party where you'll meet someone I strongly advise you to make a good impression on."
Jihye pushed herself off the massage table and sat on the edge facing you.
"I have absolutely no idea what the hell you're talking about. Also, where are you going? I'm not even finished. What about your feet? I still have to scrub them."
Jihye chuckled and got off the table to get her clothes.
"I don't trust us to keep this professional if you touch my feet, darling," she said, drying the oil off her body with one of your clean towels. "I know us too well."
"Boring..." you muttered to yourself, looking away.
"What did you say?"
"Hm?" You turned to face her and pointed to yourself. "Me? Nothing."
Jihye threw the towel she'd used to dry her body in your face.
"Like I was saying, I promise all this will make sense soon," she said as you watched her get dressed. "In fact, I hope Minjeong tells you about it tonight."
Jihye dressed with her characteristic efficiency and speed, tied her black hair into a high bun, and went straight to hug you, snuggling against your chest. You immediately wrapped your arms around her and buried your nostrils in her hair, which always smelled delicious.
The hug managed to heal something inside you.
"I missed you so much, silly boy," Jihye murmured, one side of her face pressed against your chest.
You took a deep breath, only able to hug her tighter, not wanting her to leave again.
"And I missed you too, boss," you replied. "Please... don't disappear again. I beg you."
"I promise I won't," she said. "I don't know when we'll see each other again, though, because I have a feeling you'll be busier than ever soon, but I promise to stay in touch."
"That's okay," you smiled. "That's perfect."
Jihye pulled away from you, stood on her tiptoes, and cupped your face to plant a kiss on your cheek.
"Be a good boy and walk me to the door, okay?"
"Anything for you."
You took Jihye's hand, and she instinctively intertwined her fingers with yours, letting you lead her to the exit. There, she gave you another quick kiss on the arm as you opened the door.
"Have a good night and enjoy your dinner with Minjeong-ah, love," Jihye said, stepping out the door and turning to face you. "I'm proud of you, by the way. Always remember that."
Before you could reply, Jihye reached for the doorknob, winked at you, and closed it for you.
And you stood there, feeling an emptiness in your chest equivalent to three supermassive black holes caused by not having her near. You cursed the damn tour with Aespa for it, as it had left irreparable scars. The only good thing about it all was that, finally, after so long, that emptiness felt less overwhelmingly heavy.
With your heart still in your throat, you went to take a quick shower, since Minjeong was expected to arrive any minute. Not even twenty minutes had passed when the doorbell rang. When you went to open the door, there she was, looking gorgeous as usual, only this time with her hair dyed a dark red, a leather jacket over a simple t-shirt, a short black skirt, and high boots.
"Hi!" Minjeong greeted you in her adorable little voice and her usual bubbly mood, skipping inside the apartment. "I brought wine!" she showed you the bottle of Petrus red wine she had brought.
"Great, because I really need it," you said, closing the door.
"Ah, exhausting day?" she asked, waiting for you halfway down the hall.
You sighed.
"You could say that," you said, walking until you stood in front of her. You raised a hand and brushed a strand of hair that hung across her forehead. "You look beautiful."
"I know," Minjeong said, looking into your eyes and swaying her shoulders. "You don't look bad at all. You showered, right?"
"I always shower when I'm going to see you, Minjeong-ah."
Minjeong giggled.
"That's sweet," she tilted her head, still looking at you. "So we're going to make dinner together, right?"
"Of course," you nodded for her to get going. "Everything's in the fridge."
Minjeong turned, took your hand, and walked with you to the kitchen. She had made it clear a couple of months ago that she wanted the two of you to spend more quality time together, but her concept of quality time was much more private than you could have imagined. Perhaps it was because she was one of the most famous idols in the country, but her first choice was always to be alone with you.
At first, you thought it would be more awkward, considering she was the Aespa member you'd spent the least amount of time with. Much to your surprise, however, there was always a certain air of comfort and harmony between the two of you when you were alone. A testament to this was how, while you were preparing dinner that night, the wine was quickly emptied as the conversation flowed naturally and amidst laughter.
That same night you also realized that it often felt more like one friend hanging out than two friends, especially considering how the nights always ended when you "hung out" with another of your friends. It wasn't something that bothered you, not at all; Minjeong was absolutely charming.
On the one hand, there was her adorable, chipper-like side, a cheerful girl you could make laugh with any silly thing and who always looked out for you in her own way. She was also a grumpy girl who got easily annoyed, to the point that you once made her cry unintentionally. And above all that, she was a sassy girl who knew how to, and loved to, get on your nerves.
In short, spending time with her was perhaps one of your favorite things.
"Hey... do you realize that we've never had sex just the two of us?" Minjeong asked mid-meal, pouring herself some of the new bottle of wine you'd had brought from reception. You almost choked on a piece of beef.
"Excuse me?" you asked, thinking you'd misheard.
"Yeah, it's always been a group thing," Minjeong continued, placing the bottle in the center of the table. "First there was Jihye, then Ning, and then more people in general. Never just you and me. Everyone else has been the sole focus of your attention."
You were too shocked to respond, aside from having your mouth full. But not because she was saying anything wrong, but because you'd never stopped to think about it.
"Um... well..."
"Is it because of what happened?" Minjeong asked, her gaze fixed on her food, her voice lower and more hesitant. "Do you still hold a grudge about it? Or... is it that I'm not good enough?"
You abruptly dropped your fork, which clattered against the porcelain plate. Minjeong looked up.
"Minjeong-ah," you said sternly, meeting her gaze. "First of all, what happened is water under the bridge. I don't hold a grudge. Second, please never say again that you're not good enough; there hasn't been a moment in your life when you weren't. It's just... the circumstances weren't right. As simple as that."
Minjeong lowered her gaze, smiled, and let out a giggle.
"Well, I guess the circumstances were right tonight," she said before meeting your eyes. "I'm not wearing anything under this skirt, and you didn't even notice because you haven't even tried anything yet."
You laughed through your nose and picked up your fork again to bring a piece of beef to your mouth.
"Sorry for thinking you wanted our quality time to have a different focus, Minjeong-ah," you said, chewing. As you swallowed, you took a sip of your wine and looked at her. "How about I finish eating, crawl under this table, and eat you out?"
Minjeong bit her lower lip through a smile, making her look gorgeous.
"That's what I wanted to hear."
"We have a plan then."
Despite the obvious excitement on Minjeong's face, you ate much more slowly, completely on purpose. Minjeong quickly realized what you were doing. As the minutes ticked by, she didn't bother to hide how anxious and desperate she was, to the point of breathing more heavily and squirming a little in her seat.
"Are you serious?" Minjeong asked.
"Hm?" you looked up.
"Are you really going to take forever to finish that?" Minjeong gestured to your plate. Hers was already empty, but she was still drinking wine.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Minjeong rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and settled back in her seat.
When you finally finished your meal, about ten minutes later, Minjeong looked at you hopefully, thinking the moment had finally arrived. But you disappointed her by getting up and going to the kitchen to get a glass of ice water.
"Oh, come on!" Minjeong exclaimed, annoyed. "Screw you!"
You did your best not to laugh and let the water run down your nose. Deciding she'd had enough, you went back with the half-empty glass and sat down. Immediately, you dragged your fork from your plate to the edge of the table and let it fall to the floor. The thud echoed through the apartment.
"Oops, I guess I should pick that up," you said.
With the glass of water in your hand, you pushed your chair back and knelt on the floor under the table, scooping a couple of ice cubes into your mouth and then placing the glass near one of the table legs. Minjeong sat on the edge of her chair, spread her legs wide, and lifted her miniskirt slightly to reveal her impeccably shaved pussy.
You placed an ice cube between your lips, crawled between her legs, and gripped her calves before pressing it between her folds.
"Oh shit!" Minjeong squealed. "I wasn't expecting that! Fuck!"
Minjeong didn't hesitate to let out a moan when you began rubbing the ice cube up and down, alternating with your tongue and overwhelming her with the contrast in texture and temperature. After a minute, she lowered one hand and parted her folds.
"Rub my clit and don't you dare stop until the cube melts," Minjeong moaned, stroking your hair with her other hand. "Please!"
Before fulfilling her request, you licked a little more with your tongue, slowly and from top to bottom between her silky, now damp and cold folds, also giving her clit some attention with the tip. But Minjeong truly went wild when, summoning all your skill, you forced the larger ice cube inside her entrance. Once it was in, you finally focused on her clit with the other ice cube.
"Oh my god, how the fuck did you do that?!" Minjeong squealed, tugging at your hair as you rubbed one ice cube against her clit while the other melted inside her.
Minjeong soon began to rock her hips on the seat, her cute, addictive moans echoing through the room. Then you noticed something: each time she rocked her hips, there was a kind of metallic scraping sound against the wood. You thought you knew what it was, but before you asked, you focused on making her cum first.
The explosion didn't take long. Minjeong gripped strands of your hair tightly as she convulsed with pleasure.
"MMMGHH!!! FUCKK!!" she screamed, arching her back, spasms taking over her slender body.
You weren't sure if she was squirting or if it was just all the water from the melting ice cubes, but the fact was Minjeong was making a mess, flooding the entire seat and soaking the floor. You let her enjoy her orgasm nonetheless, licking her inner thighs and breathing hot breath against her sensitive pussy.
"Jesus Christ..." Minjeong sighed a while later, settling back in her seat. "That was... AMAZING!"
"Mmm, I can tell you liked it," you replied quietly, eyeing the puddles everywhere.
"This isn't the last time we do this, just so you know," Minjeong gasped. "I might even tell the girls about it."
"Or even better: you don't tell them anything and we keep it to ourselves, don't you think?" You looked at her from under the table with a sly smile.
Minjeong smiled back.
"I like the way you think."
You picked up the glass you'd left nearby and crawled out from under the table to return to your seat. Your breathing was still ragged, but not as heavy as hers.
"By the way, would you mind getting up to check something?" you asked, playing dumb. "I thought I heard something while you were soaking my floor."
Minjeong looked at you and blushed, giggling.
"No need to get up, your suspicions are correct," she replied. "Did you really think I'd come here without an anal plug in?"
You shrugged and settled back in your seat.
"Naive of me, I guess," you said. "By the way, you should have told me how you were feeling earlier; we could have fixed it in no time."
"I know, but you were with Chaery and I didn't know what your rules were," Minjeong said. "And Ning's still crazy about you, so..." she shrugged. "I don't know. I wanted to be discreet. I might be a pervert, but I can be a bit of a romantic sometimes."
"You literally have a piece of metal embedded in your ass."
"You know what I mean!" Minjeong complained. "Besides, how am I not supposed to feel self-conscious when I spend all my time with girls like Jimin and Aeri?"
"Minjeong-ah..."
"No, but seriously, have you seen them?"
"I've seen every inch of them, honey."
"Then you understand what I'm saying."
"Yes, and no at the same time," you leaned forward and rested your elbows on the table. "Have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror?"
Minjeong frowned.
"Every morning, what kind of stupid question is that?"
"Then you understand how ridiculously beautiful you are," you tilted your head, meeting her eyes. "Even when you're pissed off."
Minjeong gripped her fork with a reverse grip and raised it.
"I'm going to gouge your eyes out," she threatened.
"But you look especially beautiful when you smile," you said, ignoring her threat. "And when you're all giggling and cheerful. Makes me wanna squeeze your face and fill it with little kisses."
Minjeong rolled her eyes, dropped her fork, and crossed her arms, looking away. She blushed, but said nothing.
"And besides all that, if that weren't enough, you look like a total goddess when I'm fucking your brains out."
"God, stop!" she complained, but she didn't really want you to.
"You wore that thing hoping I'd use you like a whore tonight, didn't you?" You lowered your voice, just the way she loved it. Minjeong subtly bit her lower lip. "Well, it seems your prayers were answered, because I can't stop thinking about lifting that skirt, pounding that pussy, and then fucking your ass harder than I ever have."
Minjeong licked her lips and, without any response to your comments, began clearing the table one by one before taking them to the kitchen sink. When she returned, she didn't go back to her side of the table. Instead, she went to your side, straddled your lap, and cupped your face in both hands to crash your lips together. You wrapped your arms around Minjeong's small waist and smiled mid-kiss, satisfied that your teasing had paid off so quickly.
The atmosphere heated up just as quickly, your heads tilting from side to side and your breaths coming in heavy gasps. Your priority was removing her jacket, and only then did you allow yourself to slip your hands under her skirt to squeeze her ass and incite her to grind against you. The movement caused your entire lap to become soaked with water and fluids that remained on Minjeong's pussy and legs, and it only made her moan louder and with greater need against your lips.
After long seconds of exchanging saliva, Minjeong stood up and turned her back to you, bent over the table, and lifted her skirt to reveal her two pale buttocks, the plug with a bright red gem inside her ass, and her pretty, still-wet pussy. She looked at you over her shoulder.
"Come on, stand up and use me, daddy..." Minjeong said.
You stood up so quickly and abruptly that the chair slid backward and fell over. On another occasion, you might have worried, and Minjeong might have burst out laughing, but there was no time for either. Hypnotized by desire, you yanked down your sweatpants and boxers, positioned yourself behind her, and, with your throbbing cock in one hand, rubbed the tip between her wet folds until you thrust inside her with a single, slow motion.
"Mmmgh fuck..." Minjeong moaned softly, looking back. Her gaze then rose to meet yours. "I'm yours, daddy, use me however you please."
"Are you all mine, really?" you gasped, both hands on her small yet fleshy waist. You began moving at a steady pace from the start, the walls of her tight pussy yielding easily to every inch of your shaft while maintaining an overwhelming grip around it.
"And occasionally the girls'," Minjeong replied, then moaned against her pursed lips. "But all I need is for you to ask, and you'll have me whenever you want, with a pretty little ribbon just for you."
"Mmm, would you do that for me?" you asked, before squeezing both her buttocks and slapping one of them hard, making her squeal. Minjeong's pale skin immediately flushed red.
"That and much more," Minjeong said, now supporting herself with her hands, her head hanging between her shoulders. You were moving faster and faster, so her reddish hair began to sway and her body to shake with the thrusts. "God, I'd even say something sweet, but I can't think right now, just fuck me hard!"
Minjeong threw her head back and let out a long moan as your pelvis began to slam against her ass in rapid thrusts. You took her chin in your hand and pulled her towards you so her head rested on your shoulder, giving you free rein to bury your face in her neck. There you scattered small kisses and firm bites, which made Minjeong reach behind you and grip the back of your neck, her sweet moans in your ear.
"Harder, daddy..." Minjeong purred, her lips brushing against your ear, where you also felt her warm breath. "I told you to use me, didn't I?"
"I'm sorry, baby," you said against her neck. "It's the first time I've had you all to myself. I wanted to enjoy it."
"It's the first time, but not the last," Minjeong replied, and then she gave your hair a little tug to make you look into her eyes from that short distance, your noses almost touching. "Right now, what I need... what I really need, is for you to fuck me like you hate me. Without actually hating me, of course, or I'll start crying."
You laughed through your labored breathing, wrapped your arms around her, pressing her back against your chest, and gave her a slow kiss on the lips.
"You're fucking adorable, you know?" you asked, followed by another quick kiss. "Don't worry, the only reason you're going to cry is because of how good it's going to feel."
Before fulfilling her request, you moved your hands to her waist and pulled her t-shirt out from under her skirt, lifting it over her arms, and quickly unhooked her bra as well. Now, with Minjeong completely naked from the waist up, you pushed her back against the table and, with one hand on the back of her neck to hold her in place, began pounding her pussy.
"Mmmgh fuck just like that!" Minjeong whimpered as you frantically pounded the tip of your cock against her cervix. The thuds of flesh against flesh reverberated throughout the spacious room.
You maintained your grip on the back of her neck, with an additional one on her waist. That other hand soon slid down to her lower back, putting all your weight there to keep up the pace. Minjeong went wild with moans and heavy gasps, as you were pounding her exactly the way she asked.
"Don't stop, baby, please don't stop!" Minjeong whimpered, still beneath the weight of your arms, her legs beginning to tremble. "I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna cum!! Mmmgh!!"
Minjeong writhed beneath your hands and erupted with a sensual whimper. Her pussy gripped your cock with the force of a boa constrictor, her lower body shaking and her legs threatening to give way, knees constantly flexing. You slapped her ass a couple more times through her orgasm, and Minjeong groaned with each one.
"So good... fuck..." Minjeong moaned softly as you slowly fucked her. You released the back of her neck so she could lift her head and look at you. "My throat... gag me on that cock."
You pulled out of her pussy and yanked her hair to her feet, then took her arm to turn her around and make her kneel in front of you. You quickly took off your sweater and stood with your feet on either side of her thighs. Minjeong rested her head against the edge of the table, opened her mouth, and stuck her tongue out as far as it would go, inviting you to slide your cock inside.
Minjeong closed her lips around your shaft and looked at you with lustful eyes as she took every inch. Halfway in, she was forced to open her mouth slightly, and just as you were about to slide in completely, she had her first gag reflex and grimaced. The orders were clear, so you ignored that and gripped the sides of her head to force your cock in up to the hilt. All you could hear next were muffled sounds and gurgles.
"Take it all, bitch," you growled, your fingers gripping strands of her hair, giving her little thrusts with your hips to gag her even more.
You kept your cock deep in her throat for what felt like an eternity. Minjeong managed to breathe, but only in short, shallow breaths. As the seconds ticked by, she finally started drooling, and only when her eyes rolled back did you know it was time to pull out.
Minjeong gasped for air, her chest rising and falling frantically. Thin strands of saliva connected the tip of your cock to her lips, and her mouth and chin were dripping with saliva.
"You like that, little slut?" you asked, holding her head by a handful of red hair with one hand. You slapped her cheek sharply with the other, making her moan. "Want me to fuck that pretty face of yours?"
Minjeong's only response was to bite her lower lip and nod, opening her mouth once more to receive your cock. The process was the same, but once you reached the back of her throat, your hips began to move back and forth. Minjeong took every inch effortlessly for the first few seconds. However, as you started to increase the pace, it became increasingly difficult for her to breathe properly.
"Drool on that cock, bitch," you growled, your balls slapping against her chin repeatedly.
Minjeong moaned around your cock, struggling to keep from coughing and hindering you. Her nails dug into your thighs. After a while, when you were fucking her mouth like an animal, she found it impossible to keep up and started coughing, spitting you out. A mouthful of thick saliva dripped from her mouth to the floor.
"Just so you know, you asked for it," you said as she was still coughing and gasping for air. "Are you okay?"
"Perfectly," Minjeong replied, wiping saliva from her chin with the back of her hand. "I'd do it again without hesitation."
Minjeong took your cock in her hand and brought it to her mouth, sucking every drop of saliva that soaked it, then pulled it out again to shower kisses and licks down its length. You then helped her to her feet, shared a passionate kiss, and lifted her onto the edge of the table to penetrate her pussy again.
You both moaned against each other's lips as you were deep inside her again. Minjeong spread her legs wide, her feet in the air. You braced your fists against the table on either side of her waist and began to fuck her with violent, relentless thrusts.
Minjeong wrapped her arms around your neck for a moment and gripped your head with one hand, then slid both hands to your neck, moaning uncontrollably against your lips, your ragged breaths mingling. After a few seconds, she broke the kiss and fell back, her back arched against the table. You admired her body, every inch of it, including her beautiful face, flushed and contorted with pleasure. The sight melted your brain.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful..." you murmured as you pounded into her pussy, placing a hand on her luscious abdomen, then moving it up between her breasts until it rested around her neck. You didn't apply any pressure. That made her look into your eyes. "I want to spit in your mouth."
The red-haired girl blushed, propped herself up on her elbows, and stuck out her tongue for you. You leaned down and spat on it, then slapped her.
"More," Minjeong groaned. You bit her lower lip hard and slapped her face again. "Harder!!"
The next slap was so hard it snapped Minjeong's face back, covering it with her own hair. You quickly grabbed her chin, pulled her back, and gave her another thrust. Each one made her moan louder and her pussy tighten around your shaft. Then, in an animalistic outburst, you pushed her back onto her back, squeezing her neck with one hand and using the other to rub her clit.
Minjeong gripped your wrist with both hands and rolled her eyes back, her mouth open, trying to release moans that only came out as gasps. Soon she looked at you, her eyes filled with tears, and held your gaze until you made her come. Her cries were still muffled in her throat, but her body let you know she was melting with pleasure, her legs wrapped around your waist and her back arched as she shuddered and spasmed.
You let her savor her orgasm before releasing her grip on her neck. As Minjeong caught her breath and composed herself, you stepped back and worked on removing her boots—which thankfully were strappy—one by one, leaving her in her black knee-high socks. Then you removed her skirt, which yielded easily with just the unzip in the back, and slid an arm under her waist to help her sit up. Minjeong clung to your shoulders.
"Am I... that beautiful to you?" Minjeong gasped, looking into your eyes. Her voice was so sweet you almost melted. "You've never looked at me like this before."
You held her gaze for a few seconds as you wiped the tears from her soft, perfect cheekbones. She hadn't looked at you like this before either, but it was best not to say anything about that.
"I already told you, I've never had you all to myself before," you replied. "And yes, you are that beautiful to me. You always have been."
"It's just... now I don't want you to stop looking at me like that," Minjeong said, blushing. "It makes me feel..." She tilted her head, thoughtful. "I don't know what it makes me feel, I'm still too horny to think, and you haven't even fucked my ass yet."
You laughed and pulled out of her.
"Let's go to the bedroom and we'll change that in no time."
Minjeong got off the table with your help and took your hand, intertwining your fingers, so you could lead her to your room. Inside, you left the lights off and only turned on the auxiliary ones, bathing the room in a cold, dim light. It wasn't that noticeable, though, since the main source of light was the city itself, which faded into the distance because of how high up you were.
After closing the door behind you, you went with Minjeong to the bed and let her straddle you. You melted into a passionate kiss, your arms and legs tangled together as you groped her all over. Every inch of her body was explored by your hands, from her smooth back to her firm little ass, while she caressed your shoulders, your chest, and your cheeks.
"I know I said I needed you to fuck my ass urgently, but god, I want to ride your cock for a little while..." Minjeong gasped against your lips. The city lights fell across her face. "Can I?"
"You don't have to ask permission for that, sweetheart," you said, stroking her cheekbone with the back of your hand. "Go ahead, have fun."
Minjeong wasted no time and, after adjusting her thighs on either side of your waist, she took your cock in her hand, lifted her hips, and impaled herself on it. She immediately leaned forward, her breasts pressed against your chest, and kissed you again, moaning against your lips. You then wrapped your arms around her, your hands tracing her smooth back as she began to move her hips up and down.
You didn't talk about it much, but Minjeong's skill with her hip movements was simply prodigious. No other girl came close in that regard—Chaery or Seulgi, maybe. Her level of control was perfect, and her sense of whether a movement felt right for both of you was flawless. That meant that every time she rode you, she treated your cock like it was the last time she'd ever do it, making you moan loudly every time your cock slid in and out of her tight pussy.
"You like it, daddy?" Minjeong murmured against your lips, breathing hot air onto them, one hand on your collarbone and the other on the top of your head.
"I fucking love it, oh my god," you gasped, throwing your head back, your mouth slightly open. Your hands slid down her back and stopped at her ass to help her keep the rhythm.
"I'm surprised you haven't come yet," Minjeong giggled. "You're holding on like crazy, huh?"
"You're right," you admitted. "But it's because I want to save my load for your ass."
You immediately slapped her ass hard. Minjeong squealed and began moving her hips faster, maintaining the sense of her movements and not just bouncing wildly, as if her hips were made of water.
"Let me finish here quickly, then," she said.
Minjeong gave you a quick kiss on the lips and planted her feet on the mattress, assuming a squatting position, so that she was now bouncing up and down on your cock. Her moans and clapping sounds filled the room. A little over a minute passed like this, your hands behind your head and Minjeong's nails digging into your chest, until she came with a sudden downward thrust.
"Mmmghh fuck!" Minjeong moaned, eyes closed, biting her lower lip. Her pussy smothered every inch of your cock as her lower body trembled. She then collapsed forward and kissed you again.
The kiss lingered for a while longer, your cock still resting deep within Minjeong's walls. You stroked her back from top to bottom with your fingertips, making her sigh and shiver. Her way of returning the favor was to break the kiss and scatter little kisses along the side of your face and neck.
The moment, when you and Minjeong shared small kisses and caresses, felt so intimate that it was hard to process. Months ago, she had acted like a selfish bitch, and at one point, you had almost hated her for the rest of your life. Now you were treating each other like you were more than just friends. You really didn't know how to feel about it. It was true that your relationship with her had improved considerably in recent months, and it was also true that, inevitably, your attraction to her and your chemistry were stronger.
But you weren't looking to get into a relationship right now. Your head wasn't in the right place for it.
"Alright, bring that ass over here, Minjeong-ah," you whispered in her ear.
Minjeong, who had been kissing your shoulders, looked up at you, her eyes shining with excitement.
"Do you have lube?" she asked.
"I always have to, sweetheart."
You gently moved Minjeong off you and laid her back on the pillow next to you. You leaned to the side and took an unopened bottle of lube from your nightstand drawer. You quickly peeled off the plastic wrap as you knelt between Minjeong's open legs, opened the bottle, and set it aside.
"Alright, let's get this thing out of here once and for all," you said, looking at the piece of metal embedded in Minjeong's ass.
Minjeong raised her legs and pressed her knees against her torso, hugging them from behind to hold them in position. You placed one hand on her thigh, and with the other, slowly pulled the anal plug in by the handle. Minjeong let out a small moan. The plug wasn't a conventional one; this one was much longer, more phallic than bullet-shaped, about 12 centimeters long. Something only a perverted whore like her would use, basically.
"Fucking hell, woman," you said, showing her the anal plug. "You didn't need one that big."
"Yes, I did," Minjeong objected, glancing at you from the side of her legs. "Otherwise, how were you going to use my ass as a second pussy if it wasn't stretched enough?"
You lowered your gaze to look at Minjeong's dilated butthole, tilting your head.
"Good point."
Minjeong giggled.
"Don't make me wait any longer, please. I've been waiting for this all night."
"I'm getting to it, you impatient slut."
You grabbed the bottle of lube you'd set aside and poured it onto your fingers, which you then slowly inserted into Minjeong's dilated butthole. Not much lube was needed; it was simply to aid friction, as you were confident your cock would slide in completely without any trouble.
Just as you thought, once you lubricated your cock and guided it into her butthole, it slid easily between her tight walls. Minjeong melted into a long, sensual moan as you inserted every inch, gripping her own legs. A few delicious seconds later, your shaft disappeared completely inside her.
"Oh my god," you gasped, both hands on Minjeong's thighs. "You weren't wrong."
"I'm never wrong," Minjeong replied, her eyes closed, her face ecstatic.
"Fuck, don't make me start," you chuckled, beginning to move your hips back and forth.
Minjeong opened her eyes and looked at you, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
"Tell me one time I've been wrong."
"No, because I don't want you to get mad right now. I'll tell you later."
"But..."
You slapped her ass hard with all your might. Minjeong screamed. Your handprint left a mark on her skin.
"Shut up. I'm going to destroy your ass, not argue with you."
Minjeong put her hand to her mouth, because you were sure the slap must have stung like crazy. Meanwhile, with both hands on the back of her thighs, you gradually picked up the pace until you were thrusting hard and violently into her ass.
"Nnhhgg fuck fuck fuck!!" Minjeong groaned, her back arched and her nails digging into her own skin. After a while, she opened her eyes to look at you. "Give it all to me, daddy. Use my ass like your fucking toy!"
"Mmmgh," you groaned under your breath before leaning forward and bracing your fists against the mattress on either side of her body. Now you were holding her thighs against her torso with yours. "Whose little ass is this, baby?"
"It's yours, daddy!" Minjeong whimpered, breathing heavily. She stifled a moan against her pursed lips. "It's yours, and you have every fucking right to fill it!"
"Oh yeah? Do you want a big, thick load in your ass?" you asked, pounding her ass up and down, pinning her against the bed.
"Mhm!!" Minjeong nodded desperately. "I need it so bad, daddy!"
You straightened up slightly and removed her arms from around her legs, pressing them against her torso yourself. That grip allowed you to thrust deeper into her ass, resulting in a series of desperate squeals and then a violent orgasm that shook the bed.
Minjeong's instructions were clear, so you continued fucking her like an animal through her orgasm, completely ignoring her sensitivity. She screamed like a madwoman, louder than anyone had in that new apartment so far, and her eyes quickly filled with tears.
That brought her to another consecutive orgasm, but you had no intention of giving her a break. While she was still trembling and shaking, you pulled out of her ass. You forced her onto her stomach so you could position yourself on top of her. Minjeong let out a muffled moan as you thrust back into her ass.
"Fuck, that little ass feels so good," you growled in her ear, holding her chin as you moved your hips frantically. "Moan for me, whore."
You straightened your back and placed both hands on her waist, fingers digging deep into her flesh amidst savage thrusts. Minjeong let out moan after moan. Her body twitched like a rag doll's from the violent blows she was receiving from behind.
Seconds later, you moved your hands to the back of her head and pressed her face down onto the mattress, deliberately cutting off her air. Minjeong let out muffled cries of pleasure as you pounded her ass up and down, and after a while, she came again in a series of desperate whimpers.
When you finally released her head and she could lift it to breathe, she looked up at you over her shoulder, one side of her face pressed against the mattress. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and her cheeks were wet with tears.
"Please, daddy..." she begged softly. "I'm ready for your load... give it to me. I need it."
You quickly pulled out of her and lay down beside her. Minjeong was strong enough to lie on her side, allowing you to press her back against your chest, pull her onto your arm so you could hug her, and then slide back inside her to resume your thrusts, now deeper and more sensual.
Minjeong turned her face and found your lips to kiss you, stifling small sighs against them as you squeezed her breasts with one hand and held her waist with the other. From there, there was no need to change positions, as your climax was just around the corner. It was only a couple of thrusts later that you finally exploded inside her.
"Mmmgh fuck!" you groaned against her lips, your brow furrowing with pleasure. You thrust in with a powerful stroke, emptying your balls into her tight little ass, your cock throbbing inside her.
"Fuck, it feels so warm and thick..." Minjeong sighed, looking into your eyes as you filled her ass with a generous load of semen.
Overwhelmed with pleasure, you threw your head back, mouth slightly open, enjoying the small electric shocks that coursed through your body with each throb of your cock. After emptying yourself completely, you withdrew from her almost instinctively, letting your cum spill onto the sheets.
A sudden wave of exhaustion hit your body, causing you to collapse, your face buried in Minjeong's sweaty neck, where she held you by the nape of your neck, gently ruffling your hair. You stayed wrapped in her arms for a few minutes with your eyes closed, simply catching your breath and letting your body cool down.
A while later, you lifted your head and found her looking at you with bright, beautiful eyes.
"Wait here, sweetheart," you said, and gave her a little kiss on the chin. "I'll get you something to clean up with."
"Okay," Minjeong replied softly.
You moved away from her and hurried to the bathroom, where you got both a roll of toilet paper and some wet wipes. With both of them, you cleaned Minjeong and the sheets that had been stained (although they would still need to be changed later). When you finished, you went back to her side and hugged her, your nose buried in her hair. You both gazed out at the city.
"Will the girls be upset if you stay the night?" You asked in a low voice so as not to break the serene moment.
"There shouldn't be a problem as long as I get back early," Minjeong replied, clinging to your wrist. "We have practice in the morning and then we have cleaning."
"That's fine," you said, gently caressing her hands. "You can leave whenever you want, darling, I won't keep you prisoner."
"Hmm, that's a shame," Minjeong giggled. "It wouldn't be so bad to be your prisoner whom you punish. By the way, what do you have planned for this weekend?"
There it was. Jihye was never wrong. Damn spectacular woman.
"Me? Nothing for the moment. Why?"
"We're having a small party with some friends," Minjeong said. "Well, Aeri and I. Ning's family is coming to visit and Jimin is going to spend time with her sister."
"A small party sounds nice. But I wouldn't want to be an intruder on a girls' night out, to be honest."
"No, you wouldn't be an intruder at all, silly," Minjeong said, turning her face to look at you. "In fact, you'd make it even more fun. I know Aeri wouldn't mind. And I don't think Yunjin or Somi would have a problem with it."
Suddenly, it all clicked in your head. Jihye had told you that HYBE had their eye on you, and that you had to impress someone that weekend. Only one of those two was from that company. Although, damn... Somi too?
"Big fishes, huh?" you raised both eyebrows. "Okay. I'll make myself available. Just tell me the place and time."
"We'll talk about that later, honey. For now, just cuddle me and kiss me a lot, okay?" Minjeong snuggled even closer to you, her naked body as close to yours as possible. "
"I'd be delighted."
You gave her a little kiss on the cheek and another on the lips. Then you reached for your blanket, spread it out, and covered yourselves with it. Minutes later, after a series of kisses and caresses, you were both fast asleep, snuggled up to each other.
“Well… say something about me.” Somi suddenly stops drumming her fingertips on the counter and brings them to yours. The contact burns. It’s the tiniest arson ever committed.
Hey, you’re in a bar. It’s not supposed to be anything personal. You ought to drink and dance and hope you get tipsy enough to forget about everything. But you’re here, forced to cope with a dilemma of feelings, and the fact that beyond her loudness, she still cares about you.
It goes deeper than personal.
“I—” How do you say this? Hope this easy smile gets you out of trouble. Or in trouble, whichever is best. “I think you’re the hottest girl I’ve ever met. Kind of… a little wild, too. I like that, you know.”
Somi smiles, slowly and painfully. It’s killing you in a thousand different ways—by knife, by fire, by self, by her.
“Wow,” she says, looking down at your drink. What’s worth studying about that dull glass? “You’re a real charmer, y’know that? Just know how to make my heart melt.”
For whatever reason, there’s no sarcasm entangled in her words. It’s too much. You can’t deal with it. But you push it anyway.
“What about me? You say something about me.”
Somi blinks. Smiles for the first time in minutes. “You’re really my type, if that means anything.”
Your forehead wrinkles. “That’s all?”
“I don’t know.” Somi groans then downs another drink. This conversation makes her want to die of alcohol poisoning. She’s getting there—her ditzy eyes connect with yours and you know she’s pulling you down with her. “I talk a lot, don’t I? But you never really say anything. It kind of hurts.”
You don’t need the reminder. You’re so bad at communicating that you can’t even talk to your best friend. But then you look at her, and she’s just so pretty that you think it’s understandable. It’s understandable that you keep quiet rather than say the wrong thing, let her talk when her voice is like honey, silence your heart so that you won’t lose the sight of that pretty face.
Your shoulders slump. You’re never going to figure this out. These odd feelings for her. This whole college thing, too. The jobs you can’t take, the qualifications you don’t meet. You’re never gonna make it.
“So,” she begins, like she’s about to make a proposal. “What’s it gonna take for you to shut me up? Or, better yet—”
She lifts your chin before you could drink again. You can’t drink your way out of this. The last thing she’ll let you do is scamper away, like you always do.
“What’s it gonna take to get your cock in my mouth?”
-
Apparently, as you get older, you’ll finally have figured things out. People say it’ll fix itself, like the shore fills despite the waves, and they’re right: it’s all gonna be okay. You failed and succeeded. Got down and rose up again. Whatever happened—family issues, financial instability, lost friendships—they’ll make you stronger. You’ll be strong enough to handle what life dishes out. Having learned from all your past experiences, you’ll grow older, but all the wiser.
That apparently cannot be said for the decaying asshole of a landlady who’s playing a Taiwanese telenovela with the volume up to a hundred.
You glower at her. There’s the old burnout, sitting in her loveseat with frazzled graying hair and a mug that shakes as the show brings out revelation after revelation. The girl’s apparently fucking the charming boss, and her husband exercises every right to be angry. There’s the back-and-forth argument that you truly did not want to hear.
And still, you stay in torment, trying to make sense of your notes for another exam.
You could watch the telenovela from just her eyeglasses. The volume isn’t the only thing upped to a hundred; the brightness had to take a dip, too. It joins the loudness to bathe the woman in a colorful illumination, making her look like the Man himself was about to drag her from the cushions and into heaven.
Well, she certainly didn’t belong there.
It, of course, has to happen while you’re studying for your Korean exam. There’s a day to go before the official test and it’s going… great. What a good life. Really makes you want to keep on doing this shit.
The discussions you’ve printed out and the doc on your screen can’t be comprehended when all you hear is the wails of the voice-dubbed actress.
Honey! Think about me. If you don’t care about me, that’s… that’s fine. But think about the baby. How do I tell her our family is broken?
Object of the verb before the verb… (sometimes)? Right? Right? Oh, this is torture. You could really use a coffee right now so you could slosh it all over the open electricity lines trailing from your landlady’s room. Housefires would love this place. It’s got loser landlady, miserable Mina, shitty Sejeong, and you.
No, please, she says, stumbling over leaves and bushes. She reaches for the actor and turns him around. His steel gaze meets her desperate one. It’s a collision of dramatic force nurtured by the worst talents. I love you! Please believe me, I—it was a mistake, but I never hated you, not even once—
You bite your lip. Remind yourself that neo and no are, in fact, pronounced differently. Written differently, too. At least they both have the L-shaped character. That’s your favorite one.
“It’s over. Don’t make it hurt more.” A deeper voice. The husband? You can’t see him but you’re sure you’re right. After all, the boss has a rather more steady tone. Why can you recognize that, by the way? “I’m sorry. We’re just, it’s just not right.”
You scribble down harder in your ruled notebook. Almost write a suicide note instead of a Korean sentence.
No, please! Don’t leave me! I’m never leaving you again, I promise, please love—
Your teeth grit. You slap your palms over your ears. Your hands are thick enough yet the high tantrums of the broken television couple reach you, a story you never want to hear again. It’s gossip that’s not even worth listening to.
“Honey!”
You don’t care about the house rules. “No slamming doors” your ass. You paid for this door, and you’ll be damned if you aren’t using it.
The thud of wood against wood almost blares out a ding from your phone.
Your eyes open for the first time. Open your phone for the first time, too, once you lift your back from the door.
Stare at her profile picture seated next to her messages. You can’t remember the last time she sported black hair. The yellow on her is just… so right. It’s the way things have always been, something immovable and unchangeable, like the sky being blue. She pulls off the look so well even with her blinding white skin, which she isn’t afraid to show off in the circular avatar.
Somsom 👀👺: yo
you done reviewing for the exam yet ??
Yep, it’s her.
Somi. She's like an Asian Rapunzel—long golden locks pouring down her shoulders, round eyes, fashionable even in casualwear. Still a princess in her cropped uni sweater.
Behind fake black glasses, she puts up a peace sign, coupled with a flirty wink. She’s beautiful. Honestly. She’s got that shining smile, thick hair, and fine body that catches attention despite the modesty of her clothes. The sweater is conservative enough, right? So why are your eyes falling out of their sockets?
You’re her friend; you have been for almost all the years you’ve spent in university—but you can’t deny how attractive she is.
That’s a secret you’ll never admit, not even anonymously.
Gulp.
Me: I fuckin wish
Somsom 👀👺: LMFAO, poor baby
You can picture her wicked smile from behind the screen, streets away from your rented place. You shake your head fondly. Somi loves teasing you, and you love teasing her. So, you reply.
Somsom 👀👺: have you tried pulling an oli london
Me: the fuck are you talking about
Somsom 👀👺: idk, maybe if you paid a hundred thousand to become korean, you wouldnt be suffering in hangul 101
Just my two cents
You’d rather strip naked in front of the school than admit this, but talking to Somi—it’s a natural thing, like breathing, like blinking, like everything else. Even if you force yourself to stop, you’d go back to doing it. She’s always got something clever to say. You talk, she listens. Maybe flirts, but that’s who Somi is. She’s young, wild, and free. You’re kind of envious of how she doesn’t restrain herself from doing what she wants, saying what she wants, getting what she wants.
Me: i don’t want your two cents.
Somsom 👀👺: :P
What? She can’t come over. Somi is a distraction. Instead of speaking wobbly Korean fragments to your language learning app, you’d be talking to her about anything. Funny things that happened in class. Weird freshman down the hall. Who knows what? Rather than keeping your eyes down on your notebook, you’d be looking at her.
Me: Im never passing this. i cant study because deafass Halmeoni’s watching her stupid show w the volume on 100
I need to go missing so I dont have to answer the test
Youll see me on the news
And b4 that
ill post a video saying you kidnapped me
Somsom 👀👺: jesus lol
i’ll put up the missing posters o7
BUT
you’re not going missing jackass, by me or someone else
NOT ON MY WATCH.
so i’m coming over. ill be there in like five…..?? see you later k? ;)
And oh, she’s a lot more interesting than whatever it is you’re trying to get a hold of.
No one can keep their composure around Jeon Somi. You’re not an exception.
Five minutes feel like a decade. If the foreign words on your laptop screen didn’t make sense to you before, they still don’t now. Your mind’s a flood of thoughts that relate to anything but studying. Pretty, pretty girl with a smile that could attack your heart and a body that could finish the job. What are you even thinking? Even five minutes away, she’s a distraction already.
Such a distraction that you close your laptop, and inch your hand to your crotch—
Rapid knocks that rush into ruining your door fill your ears.
Guilt, a clarity-inducing drug, follows after you were supposed to jerk off to your friend. She’s just being herself. That shouldn’t elicit a lewdness in your head that twists itself into your idea of her.
Or maybe Somi’s just lewd.
You sigh and open the door.
“Hey, look at that,” she says with a beam, “you finally have a girl over!”
Trying to look bored upon seeing her gorgeous face is a one-way road to failure. You’re always happy to see Somi, yet you groan, “Get out.”
Somi holds up two plastic cups of milk tea. You immediately give in.
The footfalls of her heels echo, each click reminding you that she’s getting closer and you don’t know how to react.
“I know I come here like everyday,” she says humbly, “but your place is really nice.”
She observes the space you try to call your own. Cheap commissioned paintings on the wall; modest furniture that minimize cluttering; some closet that serves as your hideout in the combined living room/bedroom/dining room. Then there’s the piles of clothes, clean and dirty, surrounding you. That’s all your own doing.
You sit in front of your laptop and open it. Back to work, even if she’s here. “You don’t have to lie.”
“It’s good for a cheap apartment is what I’m saying.”
“Yeah, because I pay with my fucking sanity.”
Somi scoots beside you, thighs uncovered by shorts pushing against yours, and loops an arm around your shoulder. Her eyes scan the document you’re annotating before she clicks her tongue disapprovingly.
She pokes your cheek. Her warm touch makes you burn up. “You look all the sane to me, gorgeous.”
She rips a page out of your notebook, pen in her mouth. It’s not designed to look like a rose but she looks like a lovergirl to you. If she swung the other way, girls would already be at her doorstep. Hell, you aren’t even one and your eyes cling already to the ends of her skirt.
You watch as the black fountain pen slips out from between her lips and writes the title of your lesson on the top. Why do you keep staring? She somehow makes everything look straight out of a film. Somi would be the beauty, the one whose role is deservingly main and the one they’d post on social media talking about how she was beautiful then and she still was now. Newer generations would yearn to be alive in her prime years so they’d bask in the moment they shouldn’t even have nostalgia for.
Yeah. In your head, Somi’s lived a thousand lives. The most impossible one is the part where she loves you.
On this campus in a galaxy that made everything seem small, she’s your friend. That’s both enough and too little for you. But she’s here, and that’s all that matters.
“What happened to ‘dickhead’?” you ask. In this universe, you’re also an asshole. Sip mildly on your milk tea. You expected it, but the sweetness is over the top. You have to set it down on the counter.
“My names for you change depending on my mood, so don’t take whatever for granted.” She starts to copy down the reviewer. “Like, not even a ‘Thank you Somi for the amazing milk tea’? Right now, my name for you is, and I quote, ‘an ungrateful pain in the ass.’ End quote.”
Conversational Korean fills the lines of your notebook. The subjects and verbs are underlined as well as the figures of speech. It doesn’t look like a headache when she’s writing it. The girl could use some penmanship coaching though.
You rest your arm on her shoulder and release a dramatic breath. “Thank you Somi for the amazing milk tea.”
“Where’s the part that goes, uh,” she begins, before clearing her throat, “‘Thank you Somi for being so pretty’?”
Oh, you thank her for that a thousand times. Not once have you said it out loud. But it’s sweet, telling someone they’re pretty. As if to thank that somehow, the world molded her into perfection, even if you’d stare just for a long while.
“You’re so self-absorbed.”
“Alright,” says Somi, dropping the pen. It slams on the glass. “If that’s what you want. Stop me from being Mother fucking Teresa and being so kind to help you out with your school life crisis.”
“Wait, you’re gonna do my stuff?”
“In exchange for mukbaps,” she offers cheerfully. She lifts her shoulders with a prudent nonchalance. “Math? Korean? Consider it done.”
She draws your laptop to herself and opens your canvas. Your missing assignment list isn’t exhaustive but there’s a reason why you can’t get to it immediately. These professors disguise their homeworks as short and simple, when in reality, their questions come with three bullets that require a fucking novel for an answer. You’re a writer but this stuff drains you.
She clicks your math task. Is Somi actually serious about this? She’s typing down formulas like a madman. Was she actually going to do it?
And are you… blushing?
“T-thank you.”
What else can you say? You’d say a lot of things. But when a vacant thought enters the flow—something about a deeper sense of gratitude, about how you’ll never have another friend like her—it’s all over. You don’t want the end to come. Uni can go on in your life for ages just as long as Somi keeps coming to your place.
So that’s all you say: thank you.
Because you can tell her anything, but at the same time, you can’t.
“Don’t thank me. Seriously, I never know how to respond,” she says, laughing. You wonder how she manages to change her laughs from shy and sweet, to loud and unkempt. She’s a versatile girl. “You’re gonna make bank soon, too. You’re showing up to that interview tomorrow, right?”
Thinking of it makes you a little uneasy. Sure, writing’s been on your side since forever, but what if they don’t think it is? This is your only hope—the tall building in the flier, the smiling employees, the coaxing font. You won’t settle for any other job. It was yours, just not right now.
You trace your fingers on the back of Somi’s hand. “Yeah.”
She smiles. “They’ll fall head-over-heels in love with you,” she says. A friendly(?) kiss to your knuckles is planted and bloomed. Hope she doesn’t notice the tension in them that comes right after. “I know it.
She’s so sure about it, too. How does she have this much faith in you? You don’t even believe that you’ll graduate.
“Seriously… thank you.”
“Hey, really,” Somi says again, “it’s no problem. Things can get real hard around here.”
Don’t you know it.
Fucking algebra starts to flood your screen while Korean occupies your papers. Staring at them, you yourself start to fill with an unnerving sense of doom. You can’t run away. They said in kindergarten the sun would explode in a billion years. It seems like you've been studying for longer. Why aren’t you dead yet?
You’re not even drinking the milk tea greedily but your throat constricts, like you’ve taken a medicine that would do worse than better for you. See? It even makes your eyes water and your mind spill with thoughts that prophesize inevitable, ugly failure. You’ll fail and fail like a doomed scratch project, and none of it will be worth it.
Somi pauses from explaining Korean grammar. It’s cinematic—the wind from your window brushes back her blonde locks as if they were drawn and animated, then presents a face that exudes natural beauty. Her large doe eyes—attentive, dancing with light—and slightly open mouth—pretty little mouth, impossibly soft lips—make you a little crazy.
“You okay?” she asks.
Swallow. “Yeah. Totally.”
“Sure?”
“I’m not your dad, you know,” you sigh. “You don’t have to take care of me.”
But it’s all you yearn for.
“Okay. I get it.” Somi rolls her eyes. “So, as I was saying, I suggest just saying the ‘neo’ character like you’re moaning. Like ‘ohhh—”
Balls of tapioca bounce from your mouth and on your keyboard. Somi’s shocked and noisy cackle bellows louder than the telenovela. You forget whatever your tears were for.
-
The tears come back a few days later. That’s when you remember you’ve got an interview and it’s not really ideal when the realization grips you like it wants you to die. You wake up that morning in a cold sweat, and the anxiety’s back—as if it ever left.
“You sure you got all your papers?” she asks. That’s Yunjin, and she probably shouldn’t be here. But she’s never played by the rules in her life. “I mean, you can’t rush back and tell them you forgot something. It’ll look pretty bad on your record.”
At least you don’t look bad. You rented formal attire off the local dress shop and it turned out pretty good. The jacket doesn’t smell and there aren’t wrinkles on your pants. Clothes, you’ve come to find out, leave a great first impression. For one: Somi thought you were a huge loser when you strolled into campus wearing a black shirt and loose pants.
(“No fashion sense at all,” you remember her saying as she laughed over a cup of coffee. “It was almost pitiable.”)
It’s funny how the borrowed suit looks better than the shoes you actually own. There’s flaws running on the leather as they pave the way to the building. You’re pretty sure the sole’s a bit fucked, too. But you wouldn’t give them away. They’re too special a pair, just like you and Somi—
“Damn, they take offense to everything.” You return to the conversation. There you are again, going off track. Isn’t that what you always do? “I can’t even pass a document without some kind of divine judgment?”
Yunjin laughs humorlessly. “Welcome to the real world, kid.”
She says it like it’s something to be proud of. The real world isn’t all that nice. The bills are expensive and so are the food you need and the medications prescribed to you by a doctor who’s also fucking expensive. You don’t win in this game.
“You’re younger than me, Yunjin,” you say. “I think you should leave that talk to the grown-ups.”
She scoffs. “I know another person younger than you, and you don’t complain when she talks.”
You hate how only one name comes to mind. Block it out, like you do to everything.
What better interpretation is there to make? You, a foreigner to vulnerability or you, being a foreigner to thinking about anyone but Somi? Yunjin gives you this funny look—brows curled, lips pulling to the side—that tells you exactly which.
You look away.
“Look,” Yunjin says, serious this time. “It’s gonna be alright. It might not seem like it but it will. You’re a good fucking writer, and you’re lucky enough to have people who believe in you.”
-
And if you don’t?
-
A good start: you ace the phys-ed class with your flexibility. Stretching really helps. You had to learn that the hard way.
You’re energized enough to pick up your things and go to class without dozing off on the bathroom floor. You’re optimistic about today. Let your positive thinking become reality: today, an actual step forward from the usual teaching. You’re speaking it into actual life when you say there will be no shitty professors, no bad encounters, and no loaded homework.
“Religion,” says your professor, a stout man whose beard opposes his actual age, “is a complex subject. You can divide it into polytheistic, meaning the belief of many deities, and mono-, the opposite.”
Your brow curls.
You look at the screen projected onto the empty space on the wall. The bright colors that border between unreadable and eye-scorching look familiar. Grumble softly through your teeth; yep, professor Chant taught this to you a week ago. Why is he repeating a lesson?
It’s funny how your first affirmation is transformed to mere wishful thinking. Nothing ever goes right here.
“There’s often a debate that sparks wars, as we can see from history.”
Obviously.
“We can trace it back to centuries ago, when the crusades still existed.”
Of course?
“Now, the rampage still goes on.”
Well, you never.
Psst.
Not from professor Chant, but from a soft tapping on your shoulder. You turn around—it’s Somi. Suddenly, your breath learns how to do a disappearing act. You swallow, but it’s still not there. Where's the wand?
Somehow, you don’t hear your professor start to identify different faiths. All the faith you need is hers in you.
The look on her face tells you she’s as tired of this shit as you are. She points to your professor then twirls her finger beside her temple. You stifle a giggle at the dizzied eyes she makes as well. Sometimes, (well, a lot of the time—it’s happened more than you’re brave enough to fess up), Somi makes this uninteresting life at least be something worth laughing at. It’s not even that funny yet you have to compose yourself lest you’re caught talking during class.
Her thumb jabs in the air in the direction of the door. You know exactly what she means. It’s been days of meaningless repetition in lessons, each with little to no difference than the last. Nothing’s pointing to the possibility of things taking a turn for the better today. You might as well do what she’s hinting at: leave with her.
You’re still hesitant although you’d go with her to a haunted house if she asked. “Can we?” you whisper.
Somi clicks her tongue. “If we can’t,” she says, weighing her head to the side, “would you let me go alone?”
You’re on your feet before you even have time to think.
She has this smug look on her face that you’d love to wipe off, but it’s so attractive on her that you let it stay. “That’s what I thought.”
Without bothering to make up a false excuse or trying to be discreet, you’re out of the classroom. It’s not your first time ditching classes anyway, and you only do those for the ones full of bullcrap. This class fits all the criteria for a shitty period that deserves abandonment.
“Remind me why I chose fucking ethics for my minor,” Somi says with a huff that inflates her cheeks. She steers you away from the clear windows of the other classrooms so that they don’t catch sight of your scholarly crime. Your cheeks burn as you feel her hold on your forearm. “It’s not like I wanted to be Socrates or some shit.”
Picture Somi’s face sculpted on a stone and her words taught to thousands. What quote would they like the best: “I’d rather jump off a cliff than wear flats” or “Food for thought? Where do they sell that?”?
“Yeah,” you say, “you already do enough corrupting of minds.”
At least it isn’t raining today. The sky’s gray, but only a soft wind blows by. It almost takes Somi with it. Must be why she’s gripping you so hard. That’s alright; you like her. A touch from her is exactly what you need after that hellhole.
“I get that professor Chant can’t teach, but the whole point was that Socrates didn’t corrupt those kids, right? He just didn’t shut up.” She looks down at her watch. After duly noting you’ve got plenty of time to kill, she looks back up. Her long lashes are like butterfly wings, rising and falling under her eyes as she blinks. “He had good ideas everyone was scared of. It was like the majority’s opinion after he made us pass those essays about it.”
“Oh, really?”
“I mean, yeah.”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t do essays.”
“Of course.”
Somi twiddles her pencil between her lips. She’s always had that kind—the ones that are naturally full, naturally kissable. They just fit the rest of her small, beautiful face that returns the favor of beauty reciprocally with a button nose and large eyes. It’s like her parents talked before they did the deed and said, “Okay, let’s make one that’ll grow up to be the prettiest fucking thing anybody’ll ever see.” You’d confidently say they were successful.
That pencil tapped you on your shoulder earlier. And now, it’s touching the lipsticked brims of her mouth. That’s the closest connection you’ll ever make with her. The knowledge is as Parnassian as it’s melancholic.
“You wanna get breakfast?” One blink from her makes her rephrase. “Oh, what am I thinking? You’re in college; you don’t eat breakfast.”
“I could use some right now. Where’s the nearest spot?”
She hums thoughtfully as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her high-waist square pants. Even the width of the fabric can’t hide how full her thighs are. “You mind going down Denny’s?” she offers.
You snicker. “I don’t swing that way, Jeon, sorry.”
“What? What are you even—” Her brows knot before releasing, the pupils below them throwing themselves to the sky. “Oh, shut up.”
The victim of your dad jokes from the day you met, Somi’s the perfect girl to target. It doesn’t take a cleverly layered joke to get to her. She rolls her eyes so easily. But she’s been through it enough to bear the task of taking your wrist and walking to Denny’s.
You shiver at the cold wind when you welcome yourself through the doors. Maybe you should have brought a jacket. On the bright side, there’s no storm today. Look around warily—okay, no tornadoes around here either. You’re still a little traumatized by that vision you had.
The restaurant is nicely clear. Only a few people are around, here to work on their computers or catch a snack after jogging. If only it were like this everyday, you would have gone here for breakfast all those years ago.
Somi pulls out her Gucci wallet and peers through the bills inside, as if she'd ever run out of cash. Her allowance goes up to thousands. There's no need for her to worry.
“I’m paying," she says finally. She jerks her head to the menu up in lights on the tilted ceiling. “Whaddya want?”
You shrug. “Pancakes?”
Somi smiles, brightly and beautifully. “Pancakes.”
Pancakes indeed.
A string of honey drizzles all over your breakfast. Cream on the top, too. Oh, and also some iced coffee, tailored to your wants rather than needs. This is an excessive and probably lethal amount of sugar for a college student to be consuming. For breakfast, too, at nine-whatever. But who’s keeping note?
Definitely not Somi. She’s taking real advantage over the free syrup. Some of it gets on her lips and chin.
“You're having way too much fun,” you say, your forking through your breakfast a hypocritical act. “Slow down. You eat the food, not the other way around.”
“I’ll eat yours if you don’t shut up.” Somi squirts (huh?) an unholy amount of chocolate all over her pancakes. It’s like a sugar bomb exploded on her plate. “And probably you, too.”
That glint in her eye. Must be the sunshine refracting from the glass windows. “I won’t shut up then.” Not like anything bad’ll happen if you play along?
Your place in the restaurant is more secluded. It’s near the corner, sheltered by four walls that consist of a window and some posters, which isn’t a problem. Like you said, you like Somi’s company, especially when you’re alone. She can go from bright and jokeful to seriously meaningful. She plays her game on both sides, and it makes you laugh and cry.
And soon, you're talking like there's no one around. Perhaps the volume of your voices is too notched up, but you don't notice. Somi's so easy to talk to that you wonder if it would have been that way if she were any other girl. She knows when to listen, keeping silent (a feat you didn't know she was able to perform) when it isn't her dice to roll, and talks so freely.
You can't help smiling as she talks with crumbs on the sides of her mouth.
She's laughing when she says, “Oh god, I don’t wanna hear it. Spare us the pain. Like what my mom did when she said I dressed like a retired washed up supermodel in high school to first year.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I mean, it was.” Somi digs the prongs of her utensil into the pancake’s whipped cream heart and drives them through. “Senior year sours everything up.”
“I would've loved to be classmates with you back then.”
“Hah.” She makes a smug little sound. “I was an angry hormonal bitch, you wouldn’t want to meet me.”
“Eh. I could have handled you. Anything that happened before second year doesn’t count anyway.”
In the future, you’ll say that anything that happened before you were employed doesn’t count. Then it’ll move on to how the events before a certain age aren't judged, and so on. Life continues its run, its criterias and ideals change.
Surprisingly, you're still chasing after it.
“Fair. Everyone’s angry and miserable in HS.”
Painfully accurate. “We all have those little realizations later in life. Youth makes us angry at nothing.”
She snorts on her hot chocolate. “You know, you have a better shot at being Socrates than me,” Somi says. “All that shit about food eating me. Like who the hell comes up with that?”
“Socrates?”
“Really funny.”
“Hey, who said ‘food for thou—’”
“I’ll show you food for thought, fucker!”
Before Somi could pump a blastful of strawberry syrup into your hair, a soft cough makes itself clear just in your vicinity. Both of your heads turn.
Professor Jung. Statement vest and square pants, it’s impossible to mistake him for any other man. He’s always been asthmatic, so that phlegm-filled cough is a trademark for him, something you associate with the old man.
“You have a mouth on you, miss Jeon,” he says bluntly. He offers her a subtly reprimanding expression.
Shit, you’ve just been caught cutting classes. What do you do now? There’s the evidence all out on the table to pick apart on: the food, the time on Somi’s watch, the conversation. Look around and see that the place has no bathroom to hide in, or a back window to jump out of.
"Hi, professor Jung," you mutter.
“Not to be rude or anything,” Somi tells him, “but what are you doing here?”
Trust her to always be honest with an air of feistiness. You purse your lips to muffle your groan.
“I could ask you the same thing," Jung replies pointedly.
You could hear a pin drop in the wordless silence in the booth. It’s like time froze here and went on everywhere else.
“Darn it.” Somi throws her gaze up to the ceiling. “Fine, we’re cutting. And you?”
"Teachers eat breakfast, too."
"Oh." She contemplates this. "Really?"
You whisper her name sharply, admonishing her: Somi, shut up, But she gives you her classic, disarming glare and twists her hand into a fist. It’s basically SSL (Somi Sign Language) for: Suck my dick and balls.
Your professor looks on, mildly… entertained? He chews on the inside of his cheek. “Normally, I’d cast a blind eye on absences.” He lifts his cup full of steaming black coffee to his lips, and somehow takes it in without wincing. “I was your age once, you know. But I need to talk to you.”
Now his eyes are directed at you. Yes, you, the only other guy in the conversation. His firm stare seals and locks on your face that there's no doubt whatsoever that he’s not referring to anyone else. The question is: why? Somi’s cutting, too—why do you have to take one for the team?
Swallow a chunk of honeyed pancakes. “Yes, professor?”
“Is it alright that I discuss this with you privately?”
Your nerves are getting the best of you. Maybe you shouldn't have ignored his message last night. What could he possibly be here for that's so urgent?
-
“Seventy percent, Jeon. Seventy percent.”
“I’m gonna make up for it!”
“Make up for it? Somi, there’s no going back from that! I’m failing!”
“Please?”
“No. No mukbaps for you.”
“Come on! It’s not rocket science,” she says, bundling herself over a book she “borrowed” from the library. She reads the text—all those symbols, large numbers, and complex formulas—and sighs. “But it’s not exactly ABCs either.”
It’s not necessarily up to you to try and make it easier for her to fix her mistake. You’ve got your own problems in a sack, and this one she made herself. But when she has those blonde brows creased together in frustration and a timer to keep herself accountable, you wish you were smarter. Tougher. Wiser. If you were, you would have figured a lot of things out before everything even happened.
But you’re not. You never have been. So, you say, “Something in the middle?”
"Huh.” Somi pauses. She gives you a look. “Is it?"
"I guess so."
You sip on your own cup, then wipe the smear of brown it left on your upper lip. You had coffee at Denny’s but another cup wouldn’t hurt you. At least, not unless you’re seventy-five with a heart disease or something. (Ah, see here, with the way your back hurts if you twist just a little, you could qualify as a senior. Gotta collect those discounts.)
Anyway, the setting is this: it’s only afternoon, but you wouldn’t have guessed with the rain. You’re at your place, as you always are, with a visitor who welcomes herself at any time of the day. That visitor is Somi, and she has your spare key for herself. Although she’s not exactly unwelcome, you do get tired of her ransacking your fridge at times. But that’s just you—your usual, pessimistic self.
And she’s… just Somi. Can’t be just Somi—another student among others—with a face like that. With all that beauty and wit going on for her, you don’t get why she isn’t hanging out with those sorority girls. You’re certain they’d be more than happy to welcome her. She’s better off practicing some witch rituals with them than studying with you.
Actually, there's plenty of things she could do rather than be here. She could drop school to be a model since she’s got the height and face for it. She could audition to be an idol, just like the ones you see on television, and make a bigger name for herself.
And yet she stays.
You'll never be able to solve that mystery. It'll become a cold case in your drawer, one that'll haunt you forever because although your fridge tires of being raided, you like having her over.
"Can I say something to you?" asks Somi. She shuts the book and smiles at you tightly. You can see the irritability lining her lips. Oh, whatever for? What did you do to deserve that?
You'll bite. Carefully. "Yeah."
"Ugh. That's what I'm saying, what I’m about to anyway. It’s… I swear to god, you and your useless answers.” She slaps a hand on your table. “It's a rhetorical question, you prick. You aren't supposed to say something."
As careful as you were, you end up saying the wrong thing. Somi’s eyes roll up to the ceiling and she lets out the biggest sigh you’ve ever heard. Goddamn it, another fuck up. You never know what to say to her.
“Apparently,” you start, huffing out a breath that collects itself in a cold dust in the air, “I’m not supposed to say anything.”
Slap the pencil you’ve been toying with on the kitchen table. Fuck this.
You hop off the stool and start to occupy yourself with collecting your dirty laundry from the floor. One article of clothing equals one of the many burdens off your back. You’ve been stalling bringing them to the laundry shop for ages, and now it’s biting you back in the ass. Hey, that’s always how it turns out: you keep something for another day, and when that day comes you call bullshit and not do anything. Old habits die hard—you’re still the same bum you were in senior high.
Somi smirks as she twirls the Mongol you’ve abandoned with a shake of her head. “And it’d be a lot better that way, trust me.”
She’s right. If speaking to Somi were a course, you’d be failing it. You either come off as trying too hard or aggressive. It’s already a blessing by itself that you can even attempt to respond properly.
Here you go again.
“You can either go fuck yourself, Jeon,” you throw a t-shirt at her that has coffee stains from weeks ago, “or you help me clean our house. You already fucked up my assignment.”
She’s surprisingly swift in grabbing it. Perhaps she’s realized that she has nothing better to do for she starts to clean up, too. Piles and piles of clothes disappear from the floor and into transparent laundry bags. Each gets filled to the zippers—that’s how long you’ve been winging it.
For the first time in weeks, your floor’s beginning to lose its mess. Save for the dust that’s accumulated in the corners, it’s relatively clean. As you and Somi pick up your clothes and paper bags, you come to your usual realization.. You see how easy it is to just clean up but still won’t learn from it. You’re a psychic—you can already see that this routine of avoiding your responsibilities will repeat itself in the future, until you learn and unlearn it again.
“Our house?” Somi folds a pair of denim jeans and slips it into a Ziploc. “If I remember correctly, I don’t even live here.”
You start to laugh loudly. What an absurd thing to take away from your remark. “You might as well be with how often you break and enter.”
“And I’m so glad you like my company.”
Well, it’s not like you initiate it. You’ve been friends with Somi since last year, and even from the beginning she was the one who made the plans, volunteered to be study buddies, all that shit about getting together. Your friendship grew and soon you made plans—
Oh.
So it wasn’t as one-sided as you thought.
You can’t bite back another commentary. “I should call the cops on you right now. I’ll file a restraining order and you won’t ever see me or my house again.”
You moron. What’s wrong with you? You always end up saying the wrong things, a guise for what hides beneath all that fake confidence you have up for you. It’s what’s gotten you into fights and arguments before, some severe. One might think that with a tongue like yours you would have figured out a solution. Nope, they’d think wrong.
“Please,” she says, smiling at you once more but with a tinge of sass on it now. Somi never lets anything get to her. In fact, she mirrors back whatever you say with a stronger refraction. “We both know you can’t go a day without me.”
You’d tell her she’s flattering herself. You’d say that she thinks of her position in your mind too highly, but you can’t bring yourself to even mutter it. The syllables form in the corners of your mouth but they already feel wrong from the get-go. It’s like the mere act of replying would be lying or something.
You’ve lied to Somi a hundred times before. You said you couldn’t stomach your ice cream though you just wanted her to have it because you saw her staring at it. You said you did your homework and teased her about it when she said she didn’t. You said she was an asshole after she drew on your face while you slept on the sofa.
But saying that you could go a day without her was something you didn’t have the heart to do.
Well, what if it isn’t a lie?
It melts in your mouth. Nope, you aren’t going to say anything stupid. You already have enough stupid falsehoods said and done.
“Didn’t I get this for you?” she asks, breaking your reverie and lifting up a hoodie.
You study it. It looks familiar so she must have. Observe the statement sublimation-printed on it: “BEST DADDY EVER.” It's gotta be weird morally, ethically, whatever category it falls under. But somehow, you grin when you see it. Not weird at all to you.
You look away, pretending to be very interested in the flowerpot by your window. "Yeah."
"It's on the ground,” Somi says, deep in her thoughts, “with all the stuff you wear.” A simper fights its way on her mouth.
"Uh huh."
“It’s with the laundry.”
“What are you getting at here?”
"So… that means you used it." Her cheeky Cheshire smile grows wider.
Reel back a few months, to the first Christmas you and Somi spent together. You were unwrapping your gifts from under the small tree of evergreen and red ribbons, and came to discover that she gave you that:
A hoodie, with the kind of print that doesn't fade so everyone knows loud and clear, till the day you move on to the unknown realm, that you're someone's best father.
But it’s how it has double meanings that makes you crack up.
"I'm not wearing this," you muttered, hardly containing your laughs. "What the fuck is this?"
Somi threw her head back and let out the most improper laugh ever. It bounced off the walls and echoed in your ears. "You like it!" she replied, bringing her hands together in satisfaction. “Come on, look me in the eyes and tell me you hate it.”
You jutted the hoodie out in front of you and looked at it in disbelief. It was an abomination—the color was a disgusting shade of red, the kind that tapered on the line between merry Christmas and murder, with a skeleton-like character on a motorbike below the words that declared you the best dad in the world. From the seams to the print, it was ridiculous, and you couldn’t stop laughing.
You scratched your head as if doing so would stop your healthy guffaws. "Somi. Somi, I'm serious, I'm not going out with this."
And yet here you are now, caught with the evidence of having worn it.
"I had *nothing else to put on that day," you defend yourself.
*(You had plenty. You had just ordered a bunch of shirts from the local store and pants so that the school dress code would allow you reprieve from the weather that switched constantly between numbingly cold and the kind of sunny that burned your scalp.)
Somi nods mockingly, and packs the hoodie away. She knows your truth, but she'll let you have this one.
“You know,” she says thoughtfully, slumping on the floor with her back to the feet of your table, “I don’t really get what all this is for anymore.”
You're leaning against the cheap painted walls of your home. Sweat beads the sides of your faces and bags of clothes surround you. You look like a couple who just moved into a new home. Oh, what a fantasy. Not that you’d like it to actually happen. You swear with all the pinkies in the world that it’s just a stray, intrusive thought.
She chews on her bottom lip, the one that’s so much more glossed than the other that you’re not totally dismissing the idea you could use it as a mirror. You aren’t observing your reflection when you look at it, however. Why? Oh, just another cold case, and you’re the worst detective.
Suddenly, the fantasy twists itself into your heart and squeezes.
Oftentimes people are afraid of their thoughts, of themselves. That’s the reason why they lash out and say things they don’t mean. So you’re saying another line that comes off more aggressively than you think. You’re always like this around her: a sarcastic, stuttering, alliterate mess.
“Which one? You breaking into my house at midnight ‘cause your fan broke or… oh, you know, everything else?”
Well, it’s not like it isn’t true, despite the statement only being uttered since you got nothing else to say.
Maybe that’s why you and Somi are friends—her old habits take a lot of time before disappearing, too. One of hers is entering your house with no warning, not even a text that asks as politely as it could: hey, can i come over? or perhaps even crashing at yours 2nite,, just to let you know. Nope, none of that—what Jeon Somi does is fiddle with your doorknob like a scheming thief and let herself in like she owns the place.
And it always, always scares the shit out of you.
“I mean this school thing.” Somi twitches her mouth to the side as she looks at you. “It's like there's nothing going on anymore."
"Tell me about it."
"I came here thinking I'd finally have my life together," she declares. Head shaking, she smiles. "I didn't think I'd be just… older. Not stronger or wiser or tougher. Just old as shit."
"Yeah, well, I didn't think I'd have a brat who breaks in everyday."
"You’re not giving up on that, huh? You gave me a key, babe. Can’t keep a cow and not milk it.”
“That’s the worst way to say it. You haven’t even been on a farm.”
“Piss off,” she snarls, punching you in the gut. “Go fuck yourself in the ass or something. Whatever.”
She says all those things—things that basically tell you to fuck off, sodomize yourself, whatever you do, she doesn’t fucking care—but she’s smiling. Smirking? That tiny gesture has you confused again, like all the other times wherein you have no idea if she’s shitting you or not.
It’s what keeps you on the edge of your seat. Somi has that thrill about her that’s so entrancing that it’s only right that you’re dragged along. The road’s rocky, but the wind is amazing on your bruised heels.
“I would, but we have class, remember?” Point to the clock on the wall that tells you that there’s precisely twenty minutes until your next awful hour in a cramped classroom.
"Oh, alright, so you like it in there?"
"Nothing wrong with it, but not denying or confirming anything."
"There you go again." Somi glances at the time's thin hands, recognizes the schedule they foretell, then groans. She always expresses herself dramatically, so her eyes turn themselves north and her jaw drops to the floor exaggeratedly. “Oh, please, for the love of all that’s good, don’t tell me that it’s—”
“—Kim Chungha,” you finish, regretfully. You don’t like showing up to her classes either. She’s so uptight, so full of herself that her lectures turn into a grand narration of everything she’s achieved. You didn’t pay a tuition of thousands for that. You could eavesdrop on that for free whenever a TedTalk speaker goes to your mall.
Somi shares your hate wholeheartedly. Although the hour of the class isn’t too near by any means, she’s already hating it. She’s already living in what would be a hellish moment and deprecating herself for ever thinking to enroll in it.
You groan sullenly. Somi sighs instead.
“Sometimes, I like to think about if she came out of the womb talking about how successful she is.” Your friend pinches her nose and leans into your shoulder. “‘Something something the tight womb molded me into the conceited fuck that I am today.’”
“You forgot the part about how we haven’t suffered enough.”
“Oh, of course.” Somi plays with the ends of your shirt. “‘You kids got into this college because your parents paid for it. I had to go work for it and get paid.’”
“Of course she did. Tuition was like three dinosaur bones back then and a flame from her neighbor Prometheus.”
She busts out laughing. “She’s not that old!”
She’s right. Chungha isn’t old in any way. In fact, she’s a young prodigy for a professor, considering she’s training to be one. She’s only a mere couple years your senior, too.
“Well, she doesn’t fucking act like it!” you say defensively, but you’re laughing. You and Somi love to make fun of her and the rest of your teachers. “She’s like that kid who got spanked when she was a kid and talked about it like she was in the military or something.”
“Exactly. All that because she studied in America, what a fucking bitch.”
“A bitch who’s gonna torture us if we don’t pass that essay later.” You get to your feet. “We gotta get going.” You make a finger gun at her and wink. “Dibs on the shower.”
“Asshole.”
And just like that, you ram into the shelves. A bag of clothes rolls off one of them. You grab it before it ends up on the floor. Despite it all, you still have your spidey senses.
-
You didn't get the job.
It should've been obvious that you wouldn't. You're a college student. Your best bet was an intern position or a position lower than that. But seeing the rejection printed finely, cruelly on the paper slipped in your mail still stings. You reread it to check if it really was for you (as if anybody else in this godforsaken campus applied) and your name is still there.
We've written to inform you that you' failed again. They might as well just type that. Their paragraphs of formality and sickening professionalism won't lighten the blow.
You shake your head and blink away your tears. You won't let this dampen your day. Today will be better, mark your words.
You hope your optimism won’t be shattered. Things are going on well. You’ve paid Doyeon, the smartest girl in your class, to tutor you. She’s kind enough to give you a session for a student-friendly price, but when she starts to teach the math, you find that you don’t want fuckshit to do with it. You’re already regretting paying her with what you could have used to spend on a meal.
Because see, there’s Doyeon, beautiful and gentle, with her pencil top against her temple, asking: “Do you understand?”
And then there’s you, a big fucking liar: “Yep. Easy peasy.”
Alright. Maybe that went bad, but you won’t let one bad moment ruin the rest of your day. You still have more than sixteen hours to make the most of it. Let’s hope you won’t screw it up.
As you walk to your next class, you find that your head doesn’t stop spinning. That’s what math does to you. Again, it’s supposed to be stupidly easy—you mean, how difficult can counting be? But when those mathematicians added letters into it your whole word fell apart. Nothing’s been right ever since you were in middle school.
“Dude,” and there goes Somi, bouncing down the hallway and bumping into your arm. A beat. “Hey, you okay?”
You blink. Your cheek feels damp and Somi, for all her beauty, looks blurry. You don’t realize you’re crying.
Pathetic. You're fucking pathetic.
Open your mouth to deny the tears. She doesn’t let you. She wraps her arms around you and just… holds you. Doesn’t even say anything. For the first time, Jeon Somi doesn’t say something crass or out of line—doesn’t even giggle when you snort a little too loudly.
It’s in these little, tender moments that you’re reminded she’s your friend. And she loves you.
When she lets go, your throat feels tight. “Somi, I—”
“Shhh.” She presses a finger to your lips. “I’m not gonna ask. You know what’s gonna help you out?”
“What?”
“Drinks. On me.”
-
Somi always dresses like she's going to walk a fashion show. She doesn't dare show up with an outfit that doesn't reveal or at least show her curves.
That pretty much explains why she's dressed the way she is: a short, apricot crop top that could pass for a sports bra wraps around her impeccable bust while her long legs peek not all too shyly from the ends of a denim miniskirt.
You watch her try to keep the hem of her skirt right where they should be, but they steal your eyes to what shouldn't be revealed anyway—those full yet slim thighs pressed against each other making you jealous of the little space that gets to be squeezed between them.
But as always, you’re pretentious. “You do know it’s raining, right?” you say.
“And?” Somi cocks a brow. She smooths the top down her tummy, and you can’t look anywhere else. When the eye sins, you have to pluck it out, but you can’t. You want to keep sinning. “It’s not like a storm’s gonna stop me from being hot.”
You hate how she’s right. Through thick and thin, rain or shine, Somi remains the most gorgeous girl you know. She’s always pulled together, not one speck out of place. She walks with a strut a runway model would be jealous of. It’s not your fault that you lust after her when she’s… like that. Or maybe that’s another lie—maybe you don’t really want her.
And yet another.
Click your tongue. “Okay.”
Lift your bag. Stop in your tracks. You still have more to say.
Look at her. Look at the slopes of her curvaceous body, the smile in her lined eyes, the way the crop top shows too much but just right. Did she catch you?
Not even you with your artificial nonchalance and indifference can deny that—
“You look good today.”
She smiles. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
-
So this is what happens: you drive, because (1) Somi can’t be bothered to, and (2) she can’t drive for shit. The last time you let her handle your car, she almost put you on the news. Oh, and (3) the bar is a little far from your college; you aren’t really planning to hike your way there.
Apparently, it’s a bad day for a lot of people here, too. A drunkard murmurs at the bar about how he loved her until she left him for someone better, and you could hear crying coming from the bathroom. Strangely fascinating how everyone’s here for different reasons, but for the same idea: some sort of relief.
“I’m very sorry about the way I…. you know, cried.” You make the first conversation starter. It’s an awkward topic, but you suppose she won’t have a problem with it. Somi’s your friend, isn’t she?
“Nothing to apologize for,” she says. Her eyes are lined with some sort of bright color that makes them look more enchanting. Makes the tears more apparent. “I’ve been breaking down too. Just in different ways.”
You wonder what’s beneath all that. All that blonde hair, flirty long lashes, the attitude. It only occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Somi cry. Maybe mockingly, when she doesn’t want to do her graphics, or for theater. But never in the raw sense of the word.
She’s stronger than one would think, you realize. Jeon Somi, more soldier than princess, though she doesn’t look the part. Perhaps her sword is the lipgloss ever present in her purse, the shield the smile she puts on everyday no matter the conflict. She deserves a lot more credit than what she’s given.
“What do you want?”
You can’t stop staring at the fake star tattoo on her chest. “You. Y-you can choose. It’s your money, not mine.”
You can’t tell if it’s the red, beaming lights or your imagination. You swear you saw her smirk. Quickly avert your gaze.
You don’t know how to go about these feelings for Somi. Are they romantic? Platonic? Whatever? You won’t deny that she’s pretty. Just look at her, gorgeous legs crossed on the stool, eyes magnetic. It’s a fact, forever undeniable, kind of like common sense at this point.
Yet there’s this: you’ve been friends for so long. You’d hate to ruin that.
“A martini, please.” Somi looks at you rather than the bartender, a glimmer in her eye as she adds, “Extra dirty.”
Okay, well-
You don’t speak for a while. It’s awkward, really, trying to divert the moment after you were pretty sure she had eyefucked you. Somi doesn’t seem to mind. She’s staring at her reflection in a nearby bottle, reapplying her lipstick. It makes her mouth look plumper. Poutier, too. You decide to discard that thought and train your eyes on something else.
But it’s hard not to look at Somi. You’re sure every heterosexual man in this bar/club/crying lounge is staring at her. Hell, even a few girls. But it somehow makes your heart squeeze a little more when you remember you are the one she brought out to have drinks. You’re the only one in this lonely place she considers a friend.
“So,” she says. “We’ve both been going through shit, huh.”
Just in time for the martinis to arrive. You laugh roughly, quickly drinking one up. ‘That’s one way to put it.”
"To surviving another week of academia," she raises her shot glass, a glint of defiance in her eyes. ‘And to us, for being the tough fucking shits that we are.”
You clink your glass against hers, the sharp crack almost lulling through the music. The martini burns a fiery path down your throat. You wince; yeah, you need some of that beer later. Martini’s never been your forte, but hey, it does the job. Your shoulders have already lost their tension. And Somi’s paying anyway. Beggars can’t be choosers.
“Seriously, I thought professor Jung was going to kill me,” you sigh, leaning back against the cool metal of the stool. “Maybe one of these days.”
“Don’t go yet. I’ll miss you too much.”
“Thanks for the sympathy. For that, I won’t write you off in my will.”
“Good boy.”
You gulp. Take another long sip of the martini. She knows exactly what she’s doing. You know her intentions too. Nobody just goes to a bar and wears an outfit like that for nothing. So why is it only you who’s shivering with anxiety?
She turns to you, her expression softening. For a few precious moments, her eyes look less striking. They’re more concerned, glazing over you slowly. "You look like you need more than just a drink, though. You look… hollowed out."
“Don’t I know it.”
“Hey, I’m just saying. We need to find a way to de-stress before we both lose our fucking minds and we die before graduation.”
The corner of your mouth twitches upwards. “One vice at a time, Somi. One vice at a time.”
She giggles. “That’s what I like about you.” Her golden hair tosses as she shakes her head and she’s back to nursing her drink. “You’re funny. Hot. Yeah, you’re weird sometimes, let’s be fucking honest. But you’re my bestest friend in the world.”
Your chest warms up. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s told you all week. And it was said to you in a noise-polluted bar, after crying your heart out, and by Somi.
You used to dream of meaning this much to somebody. All your life, you’ve felt discarded. The floater friend. It worsened when you enrolled in college. What they don’t tell you about this time in your life is that it’s a dog-eat-dog world. You survive or you don’t.
And now you’ve got your bestest friend in the world, telling you that you’re her friend, too. You mean something to her. You’re the only guy she’d take out to a bar like this and spend thousands on.
“Well… say something about me.” Somi suddenly stops drumming her fingertips on the counter and brings them to yours. The contact burns. It’s the tiniest arson ever committed.
Hey, you’re in a bar. It’s not supposed to be anything personal. You ought to drink and dance and hope you get tipsy enough to forget about everything. But you’re here, forced to cope with a dilemma of feelings, and the fact that beyond her loudness, she still cares about you.
It goes deeper than personal.
“I—” How do you say this? Hope this easy smile gets you out of trouble. Or in trouble, whichever is best. “I think you’re the hottest girl I’ve ever met. Kind of… a little wild, too. I like that, you know.”
Somi smiles, slowly and painfully. It’s killing you in a thousand different ways—by knife, by fire, by self, by her.
“Wow,” she says, looking down at your drink. What’s worth studying about that dull glass? “You’re a real charmer, y’know that? Just know how to make my heart melt.”
For whatever reason, there’s no sarcasm entangled in her words. It’s too much. You can’t deal with it. But you push it anyway.
“What about me? You say something about me.”
Somi blinks. Smiles for the first time in minutes. “You’re really my type, if that means anything.”
Your forehead wrinkles. “That’s all?”
“I don’t know.” Somi groans then downs another drink. This conversation makes her want to die of alcohol poisoning. She’s getting there—her ditzy eyes connect with yours and you know she’s pulling you down with her. “I talk a lot, don’t I? But you never really say anything. It kind of hurts.”
You don’t need the reminder. You’re so bad at communicating that you can’t even talk to your best friend. But then you look at her, and she’s just so pretty that you think it’s understandable. It’s understandable that you keep quiet rather than say the wrong thing, let her talk when her voice is like honey, silence your heart so that you won’t lose the sight of that pretty face.
Your shoulders slump. You’re never going to figure this out. These odd feelings for her. This whole college thing, too. The jobs you can’t take, the qualifications you don’t meet. You’re never gonna make it.
“So,” she begins, like she’s about to make a proposal. “What’s it gonna take for you to shut me up? Or, better yet—”
She lifts your chin before you could drink again. You can’t drink your way out of this. The last thing she’ll let you do is scamper away, like you always do.
“What’s it gonna take to get your cock in my mouth?”
You shiver.
A warmth spreads through your veins. It’s not entirely from the alcohol. You make that conclusion as you watch her tongue dart out, moistening her bottom lip. The air around you seems to thicken.
Her knee brushes lightly against yours. The contact is electric already. Nobody’s made you feel this way before. No, not before Somi. Her gaze drops, lingering on your lap for a beat too long before flicking back to your eyes.
Your breath hitches. The audacity of this girl, you swear. “Somi…”
“Not a lot then, huh?”
Somi’s hand continues its slow, teasing ascent. Her fingertips now brush against the sensitive fabric of your jeans. You feel the unmistakable hardening beneath her touch and honest to god groan.
“Good,” she whispers, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “I knew you'd like that.”
Her nimble fingers find the zipper of your jeans. A wave of heat washes over you.
“Are you sure?” Your voice is a ragged whisper.
She doesn't answer with words. Instead, she slowly, painstakingly, pulls down your zipper. You flinch at the sound of the metal zipping against each other. Somewhere in those eyes you find a challenge. I dare you, Somi says, to tell me to stop right now. Tell me you don’t want me to blow you in a public place and make myself look like your cumslut. It’s your choice, you know. All up to you.
You don’t say anything.
Her fingers brush against the warm cotton of your boxers. You feel them wrap hard on the head of your cock. Somi starts stroking you slowly.
“So big,” she murmurs. You feel the rush of blood, the immediate hardening, your cock springing free from the constrains of your pants.
You close your eyes for a moment. This cannot be happening. Jeon Somi, your impossibly hot best friend cannot be jerking you off. Maybe this is all a dream. Yet when you open them, her very real gorgeous face is still there.
A hot wet warmth suddenly wraps the head of your cock. Her mouth works its magic. You grip your seat. You try to think about other things despite the obvious distraction in your lap. How warm the bar suddenly is. How nobody seems to care she’s throating you. How Somi, you come to find out, is a woman who lives by a method. First, her tongue dances along your base. Then it’s gone only to return with renewed vigor. She has her hands on your thighs, pushing you down her throat and letting your cock slap on the flat of her tongue.
You let out a shaky breath as the pleasure intensifies. Somehow, the place becomes nonexistent. There’s no setting to this story. The bar is gone and so is the shitty music and the dancers. There’s no plot either. All it dissolves down to is the climax: the suction of Somi’s plump lips on your dick and the sight of her tits bouncing as she takes you.
“Fuck. Somi, I’m gonna-”
Seemingly determined, she takes it all. Her intense gaze never leaves you. Even as she deepthroats you, she seems to be smiling wickedly. Almost as if she planned this for the entirety of the day.
She lets her tongue flick and it’s finally over.
You honestly black out for a few minutes. It’s hard to process it all. Just a few hours earlier you were crying about another essay and the cruelty of your professor. Now, you’re spilling your cum down Somi’s throat. And you’re watching her take it all, happily sucking the sanity out of you. Her hands are an oxymoron at this point, placed on your thighs to keep you from shaking so much yet her touch is too electric to make you stop. That’s just what Somi is: a walking contradiction. Too pretty to be tough but she’s stronger than you are. Too girlish to even pick up a tissue from a sidewalk but she got on her knees in this seedy bar for you.
“See?” Somi says, sounding very triumphant. “Didn’t take much.”
-
The Uber ride back to Somi’s apartment is a blur of streetlights. The moon doesn’t even look real. The warmth from the drinks and the kissing makes everything feel softer, closer. Her head rests on your shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your thigh.
You don’t resist it. You’re both pleasantly buzzed. Tonight, you’ll forget about your shitty college and your overflowing canvas. It’s all about you and her.
“My place is a fucking mess,” she laughs. “Don’t judge me, daddy, will you?” Somi catches on to the tension in your body and smirks. Oh, she’s got you all figured out, from the inside and out. "Oh yeah, I'm calling you daddy."
"Shut up." You roll your eyes, embarrassed.
Somi smiles, eyes disappearing. "Make me, daddy."
The word hangs in the air like a question. It’s new, this game. It’s probably dangerous and holds a lot of repercussions you won’t be able to handle sober. But you find yourself following her inside, the door clicking shut to seal you both in the dim, cozy chaos of her living room.
It’s not even that much of a mess. Or maybe the obvious old, lived-in wealth distracts you from the numerous shopping bags and parcels. Somi tries to kick off her heels but stumbles. You catch her by the waist. She flinches in surprise. Her abdomen is firm beneath your touch, soft in all the right places.
“You know what?”
Somi smiles. “What?”
You hold her closer. For the first time in this little, little life, you’re confident to say: “I think I’ve got it all figured out now.”
But she knows what you’re talking about. Her smirk is so proud, so full of itself that it makes Jeon Somi more attractive than she is.
“I want you,” you confess. “I tried denying it, but I’ve always wanted you.” It wasn’t included in your initial script but it slips out anyway, boldly: “From the moment I saw you.”
“Yeah. I have to be honest first though.” She skates her hand under the curve of her chin before placing it gently on your wrist. “I don’t know how it happens, but when I look at you, I can’t think straight. You make my brain haywire, if you know what I mean. My thoughts… just don’t make sense.”
Perfectly aligned, the stars and your thoughts with hers. A spyglass can’t spot a singular difference. “Same here, blondie.”
“Well?”
“Well.” You’re leaning forward as well, because there’s something you want to do before the sun rises and beats you up again. “We ought to do something about that, right?”
“Oh, trust me. know a lot of things we can do.”
That’s all it takes. The kiss isn’t gentle by any means. Nothing like the playful pecks you shared at the bar. Come to think of it, they aren’t like the sloppy makeout sessions you shared once the drinks got the better of you. This one is hungry and deep. The way she shoves her tongue in your throat reads like she’s been waiting to do this for years, probably even before you thought of doing this to her. Her lipgloss tastes sweeter than sugar.
Somi doesn’t complain about her designer skirt being torn. You don’t complain that this is your last good pair of decent clothes for another three days. Nothing about the outside world matters—no responsibilities, no consequences. You’re completely consumed by Somi’s lips and how she feels as you bracket your bodies together.
Before you know it, you’re in her bedroom. It’s even larger than the living room, walls painted bright pink and the bedclothes made of the softest fabric. The vanity table in the corner looks like it’s worth a year of your tuition. Lights bedazzle its mirror and an expensive figurine sits in front of it. Jesus, what does her father do for a living? Does he know his daughter calls you daddy too?
Her lips are swollen. You kiss them one last time before you undo her bra. The soft, full curves of her breasts spring out immediately. Her nipples are hard under your hot mouth and tongue. Lord knows how long you’ve thought about doing this. Her tits are heaven on earth.
“Yes,” Somi hisses. “They’re all yours, Daddy.”
You give her a sharp, open-handed slap to the side of her breast—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her gasp and the flesh bloom a beautiful pink. She moans, her head falling back. You do it again to the other side, the sound sharp in the quiet room. You lavish the stinging, reddening skin with desperate licks and sucks.
You wouldn’t dare put a finger on her if you were sober. You know that well. But the idea that she wants you to do anything you want to her is making your brain lose its logic. You’re operating like a broken machine on flimsy code.
That’s exactly why Somi smiles when she kneels again. “Remember when we talked about Socrates?”
You roll your eyes. “Why are you bringing him up now?”
Tipsy Somi is still Somi after all. Her breasts rise and rest as she breathes, slick from your mouth’s worshipful rituals.
“When you told me I was corrupting minds,” she says, blinking up at you deceptively, “did I corrupt yours, too?”
Turns out she doesn’t need you to answer. First contact: her soft tits squeezing around you. It extracts a groan from the depths of your throat. “Somi.”
“What's wrong?”
Nothing is. Not when she feels amazing wrapped tight around your shaft. The friction is incredible. It rides up from your base up to your swollen tip, then repeats in its overwhelming cycle. You’re already so close to the edge.
You can almost feel her heartbeat as she takes a deep breath in. Her deep cleavage welcomes you once more. You don’t know which is more explicit: the sounds of her flesh accommodating you and her soft pants, or the sight of it. Each low plunge ignites heat from the pit of your stomach. You can see light sweat form on her skin. She’s working so hard for it, so hard to make you cum.
It just might work.
God, everything about Somi is so erotic. It’s like for one night, she conjured herself to be a fantasy only for you. No one at the bar could experience this no matter how much they stared at her. They’re not the ones who can see her nails dig into her own chest as she works you, or her biting her lip to cope with the labor. All they see is the perfect, dolled up Jeon Somi, the gorgeous woman at the bar who looks too out of their league to approach.
Meanwhile, this is what you’re privy to:
Somi jerking you even harder, her nipples tight and her hair tossed to the side.
Somi asking you if you like it, although she knows very well that you do. How can anyone not like this? Only an insane man would deny it.
Somi looking like a doll although she’d look more a sex doll if you consider how she pressed her boobs together tighter. The pressure grows like a waiting tsunami.
You crash.
With a final, deep stroke and a stifled moan from her own lips, you cum all over her. It’s messy—it gets all over her collarbone, the lines on her throat, her chin. This doesn’t stop her movements from becoming more urgent. The embrace of her tits feels more like a choke now that she’s determined to drain every single drop from you.
After the last spurts come out, she gives you a teasing lick on your tip. She looks down at her skin covered with cum and gasps.
“Look at the mess you made,” she says. “Won’t you clean it up for me, daddy?”
-
Somi’s bathroom, as it turns out, looks straight out of a suite. You’re sure she had maids clean this regularly, with how the tub shone and not a tile on the walls were chipped. It smells like strawberries when you stepped inside. The porcelain is cool under your feet.
“College was just a getaway vacation for you, huh?”
Somi shrugs. “Pretty much,” she says. She doesn’t bother to deny it. She only joins in on your “I’m broke” jokes to make you less lonely. This was her reality. “Could’ve gone to some Ivy League un, but at least I met you, right?”
You reach past her to turn the knob. There’s a clunk, a hiss, and then the water crashes down. You watch how the droplets slip into the curves and arches of her toned back, down her perfect ass. Of course, she’s ever the movie star: Somi arches into it, eyes closed.
You move into the warm spray with her. She turns to face you.
Her face looks prettier without the makeup. As the foundation washes away along with each slicked contour, her bare face comes to view. In the steam, Somi looks like a goddess who made an apparition. No, actually. Her eyes are larger without the heavy lashes and her mouth soft without the lipliner.
“Yeah,” you agree. You’re still stunned. “I have that going on for me.”
You lift her easily. She giggles, wrapping her legs around your waist without a word. All part of Jeon Somi’s masterplan, and you’re checking off each step.
The water hammers down on your joined bodies, background noise as you thrust in her. Both of you gasp. She’s so tight it knocks your breath out. You’re forced to rely on anchoring her weight on the wall, as featherlight as she is.
“Jesus, Somi. You feel so fucking good.”
She’s all slick and tight around you. Her overwhelming wetness lets you know how hard she was working for this. Somi is speechless as you start moving. You don’t bother for any buildup. It’s rare to see her so pliant, so willing. The sensation of being filled up was too good for her to run her mouth.
You did say you were going to shut her up.
Her mouth hangs the whole time. Her doe eyes are large with want. Each time you enter her, her insides cinch tighter around you. You already came twice tonight; you want to hold out a little longer and make her feel good.
You place your other hand at the back of her head to dull the thrusts. Those gym classes were worth it after all. You have no problem hoisting her up with one hand and searching for the angle that’d make her shake.
It takes a few different approaches, all with your mouth smothering her chest and neck, before her eyes fly open in shock. You smirk. Somi squeezes your shoulders tighter. From there, the moans you revel in seem to amplify.
“God, yes,” she gasps, the blasphemy melting into steam next to your ear. She buries her face in your neck. “Don’ stop…”
A sudden rush of adrenaline runs through you, like you’ve downed caffeine instead of alcohol. Every sense is wide awake. You set a wild rhythm that you don’t think even you can keep up with. But each dip into Somi’s tight, weeping cunt makes it worth the effort. The lust melts into the steam of the shower, wrapping your endless moans and grunts into a hot bubble.
Her nails needle into your back like the spray from the shower. Somi’s moans border into shouts. You see the exact moment she cums. All of her being tenses up except her thighs, which stay at your hips, keeping you locked inside her. Each thud and stroke leads up to this very moment.
Honey drips down her legs. Somi whimpers while she cums around you. It’s sticky sweet. The water washes away both of your releases into the drain. You clutch onto one another for life. It might not be hyperbole either; the two of you are spent.
For a long moment, you just stay like that. You hold her up despite the weakness in your legs. You massage her hair through the shampoo. You wonder if this was the right thing to do. There’s still the possibility that you’ll regret it in the morning, when the alcohol and daze are gone. This was just a way to get it out of your systems.
“Wow,” says Somi, voice hoarse. “I knew you deserved that Best Daddy hoodie.”
She kisses you again, softer this time. You realize immediately it’ll be fine. While you’re young, you have a lot of time left to worry.
Hey everyone, now that I'm back writing (having more juice and time is a blessing) I'm curious if you guys would read a series I've had an idea for since I've started writing. It is going to be super plot-heavy, in terms of how plot-heavy I'm planning it to be, it's going to be as plot-heavy or even more heavier than Attention.
I'm still in the planning stages of the fic but if there's no interest in it, I'm just going to leave it on the shelf and keep it as a personal project. The plot idea will be after the keep reading line, just in case people don't want to read about it.
Would you be interested in reading a plot-heavy series I'm planning on writing?
Yes
No
Voting ended onFeb 24
Okay for those who want to know the main plot idea for the series I'm planning, it's basically the story of a two-sport athlete OC who has certain relationships with certain idols. It starts from his time in high school, more specifically his senior season for his two sports and just goes with the flow for an athlete trying to make it to the highest level in both sports he excels at. There will be sub plots and sub scenes involving the female idols I plan on including in the series, but I'm keeping who's included as a secret for the time being.
The timeline falls when all the characters are still in high school/college or whatever they were doing at the time the OC and main female idols are in their senior year in real life. So roughly around late 2018 to 2019 is the time I'm thinking of.
A/N: No matter the results, I'm planning on at least getting one chapter done for it by the end of the year, whether it's going to be published publicly, or privately ;) or kept for my own self.
For those who've read up to here, thanks for hearing me ramble off and I'm looking forward to finally put words to doc with this project soon.
Alright so the people have spoken, you guys want the series to happen and be public. I'm in the early stages of planning the overall series, but I have a main idea set for the first chapter. As I've said in the post, I'm aiming to have the first chapter done by this year. So keep an eye out for the first chapter 👀
Thanks for everyone's participation :) and if you're willing, let me know if you've voted
Hey everyone, now that I'm back writing (having more juice and time is a blessing) I'm curious if you guys would read a series I've had an idea for since I've started writing. It is going to be super plot-heavy, in terms of how plot-heavy I'm planning it to be, it's going to be as plot-heavy or even more heavier than Attention.
I'm still in the planning stages of the fic but if there's no interest in it, I'm just going to leave it on the shelf and keep it as a personal project. The plot idea will be after the keep reading line, just in case people don't want to read about it.
Would you be interested in reading a plot-heavy series I'm planning on writing?
Yes
No
Voting ended onFeb 24
Okay for those who want to know the main plot idea for the series I'm planning, it's basically the story of a two-sport athlete OC who has certain relationships with certain idols. It starts from his time in high school, more specifically his senior season for his two sports and just goes with the flow for an athlete trying to make it to the highest level in both sports he excels at. There will be sub plots and sub scenes involving the female idols I plan on including in the series, but I'm keeping who's included as a secret for the time being.
The timeline falls when all the characters are still in high school/college or whatever they were doing at the time the OC and main female idols are in their senior year in real life. So roughly around late 2018 to 2019 is the time I'm thinking of.
A/N: No matter the results, I'm planning on at least getting one chapter done for it by the end of the year, whether it's going to be published publicly, or privately ;) or kept for my own self.
For those who've read up to here, thanks for hearing me ramble off and I'm looking forward to finally put words to doc with this project soon.
A/N: hello orenjideul! not-an-official-official comeback just to kick things off in this year and my 4th writerversary! hoping there's more to come in the future and enjoy reading! also, shoutout to woolly and @mintwithchoco with this amazing prompt! glad to participate and unhibernate myself mwehehehehehe <333
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“Have you ever thought of yourself as some insatiable douchebag?”
“The second yes—and the first one is subjective.” You hint at your cockiness, and Chaeryeong’s eyes just roll, done with your presence even though you’ve been with her for approximately a minute.
“So are you going to flirt with me or hear me out, hm?” You love teasing her to the point where she’s boiling, and it’s like the air you breathe, something you can’t live without. Even with the troubled past between the both of you, you never gave up on her, and this is your only outlet to keep yourself from doing the unthinkable.
“Alright, Chaery—why’d you even call me here when you’re trying to kill me with your eyes?”
It presses her, but she maintains her composure, setting aside your differences and her tone subsides, almost like it was never the girl you knew before. “I need you to do me a favor.”
Your eyes lit up, in all ears as you fixed your posture in your chair. “O…kay… what is it about?”
“Don’t think of this as something between us, okay? I still fucking hate you but you’re the only one to help me out with this.”
This girl is genuinely desperate—you just know, because you can feel it starting from the way she’s talking to you. Whatever she has to offer, you know she’s serious because it’s not just the emanating presence of hers.
“But before I say this, are you willing to help me out?” She’s soft-toned, almost trying to convince you as you get lost into her striking eyes, and immediately snapped back to play with her patience.
“What if I said I don’t want to?”
She stares daggers at you, pausing for seconds as you anticipate for the worst.
“Then forget I was ever here, asshole. I don’t even know why the fu—” You cut her out, managing to stop her from getting out by her arm, as she’s visibly pissed with what you said. This is probably you drawing the line and you know it’s time to be serious, so you did—subtly apologizing as she maintains that deadly stares towards you.
“Jeez, god forbid I wanna joke to you, Chaery—”
“Do I look like a joke to you? Every damn time?” You could have agreed with her, but you push your inner demons out of the box of possible replies. You are eager to help her out even with such a peculiar relationship between the both of you, so you’re now composed to listen to her.
“No—I was joking! God, okay… what are you even proposing?”
“Well…” She wears that subtle seductive expression on her face, as draws closer to you and makes herself inviting for you. “You know my boyfriend, right?”
Now she mentioned that, you may have a slight hint about what she’s wanting you to do, but you could never be so sure because one wrong move can end this conversation in a pissed off Chaeryeong and a lost cause “you”.
“Yeah, what about him?”
Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, then a heavy sigh follows right after then directs her eyes towards you again. “He’s a fucking asshole, like you, but worse—like way worse.”
“Wow, that got me hurt a little there.” Your sarcastic tone is evident, yet your curiosity is still piqued and eager to find some answers—Chaeryeong wouldn’t describe her boyfriend like a total douche out of the blue. “Wait, what even happened to him? The both of you?”
“Actually, a long story and I hate to say this but I know you need some context.” She poised herself attentively, sipping that last bit of frappuccino before she utters such surprising words. “Ryujin actually got that asshole caught when a leaked sex tape of my boyfriend and that bitchy Yunjin got loose on the group chat, and she was there and sent it to me as soon as she knew who was in it. Ryujin said they deleted the link but it was too late, all hell breaks loose and that man should go to hell for that honestly—god I hope he rots there, holy shit!”
She was thorough, pissed and most importantly, heartbroken. Even with the masked anger and enthusiasm of her voice when telling you what even brought into this mess, you can feel that her throat felt daggers in each word laced with hatred. It’s hard to believe her story, knowing they only started their relationship for about five months but you know how the tides can come crashing, and how things can end—obviously, knowing your past with Chaeryeong, with all of the highs and the lows.
“Okay, okay, how long did you know this news?”
“Three days ago.” A sigh follows, clicking her tongue as she directs her gaze towards you. “And I know exactly how to get revenge on his cheating ass.”
You chuckle, interested in what she may propose because you may perceive things wrong about the reason why she called you here in the first place. “What can you possibly do, hm?”
She’s an inch closer, then her mouth whispers. “We’re gonna fuck.”
She drops a one-liner, laced with unambiguity, and lacks frivolity—her tone showcases the weight of what she said, is that she truly wants to do it.
“W-what?”
“We’re gonna fuck.”
“Y-you—me, we’re gonna fuck? Wait, wait, Chaer, let me get this straight—” And you’re not expecting that, at all. You’re just thinking if she just wants to hang out with you and mend the broken parts, or even give her some advice about the situation but not a straight-up pussyfucking? No, you did not just hear that right and you’re still shocked, but you’re not turning down the offer—you’re not a virgin and neither is she, but this was out of the blue completely.
“—you want me to fuck you and what, show it to him so the both of you are in the same boat?”
Chaeryeong laughs and flashes that cocky smile, before enlightening you again. “Not show him blatantly—I’m not stupid. On how I found out about his mess is how he’ll find out mine too.”
Jesus christ, Chaeryeong is insane. You can’t disparage the creativeness, though—it’s a great payback for someone who started the fire, and you’re completely getting the gist of the situation.
“So, do you like what I have in mind?” Chaeryeong asks, and you’re still dumbfounded, but totally getting in that zone.
Again, you still have feelings for her, and she wants you to help her out even in ways crazier than what you think, you can’t turn it down. Plus, you are not missing out to besmirch that beautiful, toned body of hers and feel every inch of her again—that is Lee Chaeryeong, possibly the hottest woman in existence.
Took you a couple of seconds, but eventually, you signed a deal with the devil itself. “I do. And like, there’s nothing I can really do, no?”
“Aish—” Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, hisses at you from another annoying banter. “—if you don’t want it then I’ll find a guy who fucks better than you—”
“As if somebody can?” You grab her by her arm again, and this time, it’s intentionally intimate, directing her body closer than yours just to let her feel the heat and the perfume emanating on you. Even in a public area, your subtle movements still blushes the hell out of her, and she can deny it.
“Y-yes… I can really do—”
“But it’ll never be the same, right?” Your hands roam towards hers, accelerating the heat between the both of you until Chaeryeong snaps back, discarding the way you made her flustered.
“O-okay—let’s just get out of here.”
You agree immediately, knowing the both of you won’t do anything interesting in thai cafe, but instead, direct those into her place, where she suggests the both of you should go.
And there you go, what a reunion between the both of you, huh?
--------------------- o ---------------------
“So, which phone are we using, hm, baby?” You pepper her neck with kisses between those words, and she can’t really form a coherent response knowing how well your fingers stroke her nether regions. All she can do is moan then answer, and you’re completely loving this side of Chaeryeong and you’ve fucking missed it—you know she does too, and she’ll eventually be vocal about it.
“Mine, o-of course, holy shit—can you stop? We’re not filming anything yet.”
“Well, don’t you want to get riled up first, Chaery?” Your hands roam around her thighs, her abs, then back to her velvety lips.
“I’m already fucking riled up, don’t you tell?” Yes, you can tell, with the way she moans and shudders upon your touch.
“Yeah, I know—I’m just being rhetorical.” You plunge your index finger now and she yelps, eliciting that honeyed moan you’ve been longing to hear for months.
“God, just let me feel you already.” Chaeryeong begs, her submissive spiralling down as time goes by. You can’t really contain it anymore at your end, your cock begging to be freed from the frustrating restraints.
Knowing your dominance here, you command her to undress your bottom-half, and she does, not wasting a single second in doing so despite her hands shaking with the earthquake your dexterous finger is doing in her pussy. You plunge another finger, and she’s going to lose it but she successfully undresses you and strokes your rock-hard cock to bring you the pleasure she’s feeling. Wanting the initiative, you set up the phone near the corner and pressed the ‘Record’ button as the show of sin is about to start, and all hell will break loose soon.
“I can tell you missed my cock, Chaery.”
“And I can tell you missed my holes.”
The feelings are mutual between the both of you, and after all of this foreplay, it’s time to dive in the first phase of this debauchery.
“On your knees, please.” You pull out of her lips, as she catches her breath then smiles at you. Surprisingly, she complies without any rebuttal, going down and stroking you off to rile you up even more.
“God, I missed sucking your cock, daddy.” There’s the word that just enables you to lose all your morals—that one magical word really turns it all upside down. You’re glad she's learning and still applying her ways when the both of you are still together.
She’s a little nervous, you can tell, but that’s genuinely fine considering it’s been a while since she does this to you but you can tell she’s a natural—it’s the way she pursues in licking your tip, her incredible suction, her hand caressing your thighs and playing with your balls. She’s taking you well and truthfully enjoying your shaft, and it’s only getting started.
“God, fuck—it’s damn good, Chaery.” You’re stroking her currant locks, an outlet to the immense pleasure her mouth is distributing throughout your body. The ohs and the pleases of hers was now gone, but her gags and silence of her taking your cock screams volumes of satisfaction. You keep complimenting Chaeryeong, her eyes gazing towards yours as she keeps you intact, her hands grasping your thighs for leverage on a much harsher pace.
The red blur consisting of her persistent bobs is just a way to tell you’re in heaven—she keeps on going and not pulling out, determined to really give you what you needed and what she is great at for all of this months
“This cock is so perfect, daddy—god, I could suck this for days and days.” She’s now playing with your sensitive balls, cupping them and urging them to grow closer to her prized possession and knowing her advances, you won’t let her, even if you’re feeling the peak of euphoria with the way she blows your cock.
“Just get my cock wet, Chaery. Stand up.”
Chaeryeong is still cockdrunken, not stopping peppering your cock with kisses and your balls with her saliva as you repeated your command, averting her attention towards you then pouting.
“But I wanna suck more of your delicious cock, daddy—am I not doing good?” If the latter was intentional for you to stroke her ego, then you’ll believe that. Either way, the question needs an answer and she is nowhere near failing to make you feel elated.
“You’re doing great, Chaery—but I’m going to fuck you now.”
Chaeryeong stands up as you command her to place her hands to the wall and face it, and she does willingly. You admire the way her perfect body moves, and it’s drawing you closer to fulfilling your carnal desires once more.
“But daddy, I want something.”
You're in all ears, interested in what she wants to offer you again (possibly). “What is it, hm?”
“Do it in my ass. I want you to gape me open, daddy.”
God, her words. It’s slutty, straightforward yet simple and it’s fucking you up so bad. You bend her over more, ensuring the phone records everything and for the sight of her toned back being arched—it’s just the eighth wonder of the world: Lee Chaeryeong’s back arched and naked body shivering in need. You could never back down on gaping her open, even though the temptation of fucking her cunt and popping her cherry again is clouding you, you never go wrong on using her tight ass and pushing yourself to its limits.
You spank her harshly as she yelps in the sting of the pain and the hidden pleasure it brings. You tease her puckered hole with your wettened cock, as she’s whining on how needy she is for you to plunge her and fuck her open.
“Daddy—there’s lube h-here—oh god. Please use it and split me open—god, I need it…” Your eyes avert towards the small bottle on her desk as you grab it, then pour a reasonable amount to your cock and her puckered rim, then teased her even more. Your lubricated fingers tease the dripping lips of her cunt, then her tight hole, plunging a finger in it just for the love of the game.
Chaeryeong is shivering in need, and she’s just pleading for you to split her ass open.
“Daddy—p-please just—fuck my ass right now. Oh god, go slow first—ahh!”
There you go, the temptation was too much and you can’t contain it. Your cock invades her asshole in a slow succession, getting you and herself accustomed to the tightness and girth the both of you are experiencing.
“Fuck, you’re tight, Chaery—so fucking tight. God, this ass is so good.”
“Your cock is just too fucking good as I remembered—f-fuck! Go slow, daddy!” Chaeryeong please carnally, and you fulfill it, thrusting in slowly, pulling out at a leisure pace, feeling every inch of her tightness pleasurable and cherishable. Your hands grasp her hips as her hands play on her clothed tits and her naked cunt, matching the pleasure you’re experiencing. It goes for more than twenty seconds, maintaining this pace as she starts thrusting onto your cock, signalling that she’s getting used to it faster than you expected.
“Daddy, please—fuck me open.” She uttered those needy words as she looked on her shoulder, and knowing she said the green light, you immediately up the ante, rocking her body as you hands roaming around her body.
Every inch of Chaeryeong’s body is truly magnificent and deserves to be worshipped, and not to mention her rock-hard abs that you always love to caress whenever the two of you fuck. Sure, her sizable tits are great but her abs are just the one that makes you feel butterflies. So you did just that, roaming your hand around her midriff and slapping her ass on the other—this is just the perfect chemistry of a great fucking session. Your handprint now marks onto the creamy, porcelain skin of her butt, yet she begs for more.
“God, look at you—look at how much of a fucking slut you are for my cock, Chaery—” Here comes that hint of degradation, and she’s loving it, pairing it will your smack and rough thrusts, all she can do is feel too stimulated and to agree on anything you throw at her.
“This was your plan, huh? A pathethic plan just for you suck my cock and fuck your tight asshole open? Was this all you ever wanted, you horny fuck?”
“Yes, yes, yes! I’d let everybody know how much of a slut I am for your c-cock—ow! Oh, fuck! And I—”
“Yeah, what else, hm, Chaery?” Your inch closer towards her ear while maintaining those rough thrusts, earning herself a moan from pain-pleasure she receives as you make her struggle to form a coherent answer with the way you finger her cunt.
“That I—”
“That… what?” Another slap and she gasps and whines from the pleasure, her brain not thinking straight as you groan in every thrust, her tightness hugging the living hell out of your shaft, drawing you closer and closer to that high.
“That I—I am t-truly built for you to f-fuck—ahh! That you're the only one that can fuck me this good, daddy!”
You ignite the flames, and it’s all getting loose. “Not even anyone? Not even your pathetic-ass boyfriend?”
Chaeryeong fuels anger once you brought him up, but that doesn’t make it so that you can stop fucking her, but it’s a fuel to earn that answer that you love to hear. “Fuck him. I don’t give a fuck about him—you’re the only one that can make me feel this good—o-only your are, daddy—ow!”
And you’re satisfied, letting her cum.
She’s been begging for that release, and so you did, making a mess out of your hand, her thighs and onto the marble floor. You didn’t stop your rough anal assault though, continue to pump her ass she’s on her orgasmic trance and it’s just a sight to behold—her disheveled hair, toned back, your handprints on her ass and her gaped hole, it’s just all too good to be true.
Yet here you are, living that life and fucking the hottest girl in existence, downright submissive and ready to fill her up with your cum.
“God, I’m fucking close, Chaeryeong.” You really are close, so you pull out of her asshole slowly as it surprises her, but you have your own fantasies needing to be granted. As much as you want to fill her asshole up with your seed, letting it stay there for hours and make it run down her thighs, you have other plans that become immediate in you.
You turn her around, letting her back rest against the cold wall as your throbbing cock is inches away from her pussy, and she didn’t expect what you want to happen as your orgasmic high. “Stroke my cock off until I paint your abs.”
That made her eyes sparkle in interest and it’s the least of her wants but if that’s what you wanted, then all she can do is oblige. Chaeryeong pumps your shaft with a breakneck pace as your hand caresses the pivot between her back and her ass, and inches her closer to your shaft. You moan inching yourself for the release as it inevitably came, spurting copious amounts of cum on her midriff, her tits, her hand and even dripping some towards the lips of her cunt.
You advance yourself to kiss her on the lips, a long, passionate one as every second that passes sparks that euphoria in you apart from your satisfying release. It goes for like twenty seconds before everything settles down slowly, but you can still see Chaeryeong’s hand stroking your still hard shaft off.
“Can’t let go of it, huh?”
“You can’t blame me, daddy.” She’s right.
Since she’s still cockdrunken and thankful with the load you painted her with, you propose a great denouement. “Why don’t you clean me off, baby?”
She nods, but without dropping a line that may change the course of this night. “As long as you’re gonna stuff your cum in me, I would love to.”
That will eventually happen, and you can’t take down that invitation of hers.
She eagerly obliges, without any hesitation or anything that could cut the chase off. You cut the recording before Chaeryeong proceeds to do her wonders, and you submerge yourself to her expertise.
--------------------- o ---------------------
The minutes turn into hours and eventually, you opted to sleep with her for the night and there’s nothing much of a choice after another steamy session in the shower after gaping her ass open.
As the night grows older, you realize and reflect on yourself on all of the wild and sudden events that had occured: Was this the right thing to do?
It isn’t but you can’t turn down on Chaeryeong and knowing she didn’t start this mess, the both of you can’t be seen as the villain of this conflict.
Whether this ends on a toxic, good note or the opposite; even if she still hates you for dear life or finally fucking it out of her, one thing is for sure: you’re definitely going to get Chaeryeong back, whatever it takes.
Day 5 of 12 days of IZ*mas
5.2k words
—————
"My God—traffic fucking sucks."
It always does.
Even more so when during a weekend, with each passing second wasting away what precious little time you have left before life pulls you back into its unforgiving vortex.
It was supposed to be a relaxing getaway, some much needed r&r at the beach. But now it seems like waves of cars would be the last thing you would see before the sun goes down.
"Chae, it's not looking good. I don't think we'll be able to see the sunset today."
Chaeyeon sighs, glancing at the dashboard clock, now reflecting 11:45 AM. You were supposed to be there by 12:30. "Fucking hell. Guess this is on me for thinking seven was too generous of a departure time."
"In fairness, I didn't think 'car crash of six' was on the menu today," you say, poking fun at what's beyond your control. Seven was still relatively late, to be fair, but nothing as ridiculous as leaving at four. It’s not worth an hour-long flight; the beach was not so far from the city that warranted some flying.
But given the circumstances, that plane is looking quite nice right now.
"Ugh. Move already!" Chaeyeon yells at the standstill to no avail.
Lowkey, you love it when she's mad like this; she's never been one to sugarcoat her feelings. When she's pissed, she's really pissed. It's a stark contrast to her sister, Chaeryeong, who sits in the backseat in calm silence.
Taking a quick glance at the rearview mirror, you see the younger sister looking out the window, arms crossed. You didn't ask for this; she invited herself along this trip. This could be a bad idea, dangerous even, knowing how the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, but who are you to deny your girlfriend's own sibling.
"How you holdin' up Chaery?" you ask, casual.
"Fine, I guess.” She sighs, holding up her chin on her hand, clearly bored out of her mind. "I've seen worse."
You turn your attention back to Chaeyeon, still fuming in her seat. You reach out to hold her hand and gently squeeze, letting her know that it's all fine.
"It's not your fault, babe. At least we're here together, right?"
Chaeyeon relaxes a bit, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I'm just a bit—frustrated, that's all."
"That's my girl."
She lightly laughs, turning her head to give you a peck on the lips. "I love you."
"Love you too," you say, kissing her back.
But no amount of love can change the fact you're fucking stuck in standstill traffic, with no outs, no alternate routes, just prayers and a bit of hope.
In the backseat, Chaeryeong's stretching herself, yawning deeply. You swear she's rolled her eyes after the 74th or so exchange of 'I love yous' between you and her sister. Not that she disapproves of your relationship—if anything, she's been the biggest supporter since day one—but more so she's suffering from overexposure to your vapid, syrupy displays of affection. She's got her own room for a reason.
Shaking her head, she groans out loud, slumping back on the seats. "I'm fucking hungry."
"Says the next gas station is two kilometers away," replies Chaeyeon, staring intently at the GPS. But 2km might as well be a lifetime with congestion like this.
"This is bullshit!" she yells out, slamming her fist on the dashboard. "What the fuck are these people doing!?"
"It's probably the same people going to the beach, babe," you insist.
"Still. Fuck them."
You chuckle. "You're cute when you're angry."
Chaeyeon turns her glare at you, very annoyed, but a cloying smile creeps up her face. "Oh shut up."
"You are," you insist, rubbing the top of her hand with your thumb. "I can't get enough of it."
She scoffs. "I can't tell if that's a compliment or not."
"You know me well enough to know it is."
Chaeyeon rolls her eyes, but you can see her cheeks turning pink. "Fuck you."
You smile. "Maybe later, babe. Right now, we're stuck in the middle of nowhere with your sister."
"We're not in the middle of nowhere, asshole," she fires back. "We're on the highway."
"I know, I'm just joking," you say, chuckling.
"Can you two stop being disgusting?" Chaeryeong groans out from the backseat. "I'm trying to sleep."
"You're the one who decided to come with us," Chaeyeon retorts.
"I didn't know you two would be this—gross," she replies.
"Should have stayed with your girls then," you quip, the same four women she'd been on video call with in the last 30 minutes. You swear they were laughing hearing you and Chaeyeon exchange affections through her phone, which she vehemently denied.
"That's none of your business," Chaeryeong answers back.
"Well this isn't your business either," you retort almost immediately, much to her dismay.
"Whatever," she concedes, turning on her side. Chaeyeon can only shake her head and smile in amusement. That's the little sister she knows and loves.
"What?" you ask, a bit perturbed by her constant smiling at you.
"Nothing," she says, still grinning, now reaching from ear to ear. "Just glad I brought you along."
"I'm glad you did, too," you say, squeezing her hand.
"Oh my God, please stop."
Both of you turn back to see Chaeryeong, still in the same position, still facing away.
"You're such a baby," the elder sibling jokes.
"Am not."
"Yes you are," you chime in.
"Whatever," she groans, pulling her denim jacket over her.
"She's not going to make it to the next gas station, is she?" Chaeyeon quips, eliciting some laughs.
"She's not," you confirm.
"I can still hear you, you know," Chaeryeong interjects, one hand covering her ear.
"Good," the older sibling replies. "Maybe that'll keep you awake."
"Not like I have a choice," she groans.
So maybe Chaeryeong tagging along wasn't such a bad idea after all.
—————
An hour later, and now you're 100% sure you won't catch the sunset in time.
Traffic has hardly moved, if you can even call it 'moving.' You imagine this is what snails face on a daily basis.
"We're getting there," you lie, knowing damn well that the destination is still hours away. You'd be lucky to arrive by nightfall.
Chaeyeon shakes her head, adamantly in denial. "I don't think we're getting anywhere."
"We'll make it."
"We won't."
You sigh, leaning back on your seat.
"You can't force things, babe," you say, trying to sound comforting. It lacks conviction.
"I know, but—" she pauses, looking at the GPS. "We're not even close."
"We can always stay the night at a hotel and finish the drive to the beach tomorrow," you suggest.
"We're not supposed to be doing that," she counters, unwilling to spend unnecessarily. "We should be there at least by tonight, so help me God or I swear—"
"Relax," you interject, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. "I can see the cause of the crash. We're almost through."
And sure enough, the six car collision is now just several yards away.
"God," Chaeyeon says, trying to look through the glass. "How long has it been?"
"Almost two hours," you answer. And you aren’t the one staring at the clock the entire time.
"Two hours!? I can't believe this," she exclaims, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Babe, it's fine," you try to reassure her. "We're still gonna make it."
"No, we won't," she insists, shaking her head. "The beach is still far away, and the sun will be gone by then."
"Hey," you say, your tone soft and calming, "We'll get there. C'mon. Have some faith."
Meanwhile, Chaeryeong, having taken a quick power nap, is still lying in the backseat, so bored out of her mind. Can't even touch her phone out of sheer apathy.
"We pull over at the next gas station and have some late lunch," you tell the two, clinging to what little hope you have left. "Surely the rest of the drive can't be this bad."
Chaeyeon shoots you a scowl that doesn't spark any confidence whatsoever.
But Chaeryeong, on the other hand, casually slips off her denim jacket, reducing herself down to her white tank top and shorts. Whatever you were planning to say next is forgotten in an instant.
And Chaeyeon seems to notice. Her glare sharpens. Makes a non-verbal warning that goes completely unnoticed. For when it comes to the Lee family, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, especially when it comes to looks.
"Eyes on the road, asshole," Chaeyeon warns.
"Huh? Oh—right," you quickly respond, returning your attention to the road. "Sorry."
"What? It's hot," Chaeryeong says, defensive, but the little shift of her lips upward tells you she knows what she's doing.
You were looking. I saw that.
But this is where traffic becomes insufferable: you catch glimpses of Chaeryeong through the rearview mirror, toned figure and belly peeking beneath the fabric of her undersized shirt, and soon enough, that's gone too. She's got a change of clothes with her in the backseat, and she's making sure you fucking see her. She's making a scene of it, slowly but surely lifting her shirt to reveal the black bra underneath, tossing it aside. Then she lays on her back to slide down her shorts quicker, making sure you get a full look of her toned, slender legs and matching black panties. Your glances are quick, almost blink-and-you'll-miss-it scans, even with Chaeyeon seated right beside you.
It's a fucking miracle she seemingly glosses over it. But Chaeryeong knows. She's a few steps ahead, and you've fallen right into her trap.
"Gosh, at least make it less obvious," Chaeryeong remarks, swaying her hips putting on her new set of joggers.
"Yeah, babe." Chaeyeon pulls the rug underneath, having been aware the entire time. "At least be a bit more subtle, hm?"
"Babe—" you gulp your throat. "I wasn't—"
"Shush. We know," Chaeyeon says. "We've been around each other long enough to know when you're lying."
"You're not denying it, are you?" Chaeryeong adds, smug as ever, now with her sister’s backing.
"Well, I—uh—" you stammer, unable to find a proper response.
"It's okay. It runs in the family," Chaeyeon jokes.
"Is that why you brought me along?" Chaeryeong adds, putting on a new shirt, admittedly to your disappointment.
"Of course not," Chaeyeon responds, slightly offended. "I brought you along because you wanted to."
"Did I?" she questions, knowing full well she inserted herself in this trip last minute. "Or was it because you wanted me to?"
"Alright, enough," you interject, finally getting a word in. "You're both beautiful, and I love you both, but can we not do this in the car, please?"
"See, you admit it," Chaeyeon smirks.
"I'm not admitting anything," you fire back.
"He's not," Chaeryeong agrees. "I mean, what would you do if we were both in bed?"
"You're just jealous that me and Chaeyeon are loud," you answer, now unabashedly staring at her through the rearview mirror. Her eyes catch you and glare back.
"Absolutely not," she denies, crossing her arms. "Let's not act like we were going crazier when you—" her gaze turns to her elder sister, "—were not around."
"I was around," Chaeyeon chimes in. "I know exactly what you did."
"I thought you didn't want to talk about this in the car," she retorts.
"Alright, alright," you interrupt, holding your hand up. "Look. Let's just—have lunch, alright? I'm hungry, and so are you."
"You're always hungry," Chaeryeong mutters.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," she answers, quickly, turning on her side, crouched up in her seat like a hedgehog.
"We're almost there," you say, pointing at the gas station sign. "It's just a kilometer away."
"You keep saying that," Chaeyeon remarks.
"But it's true," you insist, but she just scoffs. Even with the signpost implying it's only a kilometer away. "Let's all have a snack. We're clearly not in the right headspace to be talking."
"Sure you are," Chaeryeong quips, to which you merely shake your head.
As the slow crawl of traffic leads you past the huge, admittedly horrible pileup (it's an absolute mess), the flow accelerates slightly to something resembling constant motion. No, you're not quite in the clear yet, but it makes the crawl to the gas station a little more tolerable.
"Fucking finally," Chaeyeon sighs in relief as you pull into the entrance. "It's about damn time."
"I told you it'd be fine," you remark, smiling.
"I was the one who insisted we stop for gas," she replies, giving you a playful jab on the shoulder.
"I'm gonna get something to drink," Chaeryeong interjects, stretching her arms and legs. "What about you?"
"I'm gonna be here for a while," Chaeyeon answers. "I gotta stretch my legs a bit."
"Don't forget the food," you say, adding, "We're all starving."
"Gotcha," she says, leaving the car for the convenience store.
The second the door closes, Chaeyeon lets out a huge sigh, her shoulders slumping. Letting out this deep breath, she steps out of the car, but only for a moment before coming back in. And when she does, she pulls you in for a passionate kiss.
She makes sure all doors are locked. For good reason.
"I fucking need it right now," she grits against your mouth, "I can't be bothered to wait any longer. That traffic jam has me fucking losing my mind."
"Babe—I promise—" you pull yourself away, but her arms keep you from fully slipping away, "We're not that far—trust—"
"You keep saying that, but I don't believe you," she interrupts, peppering your face with kisses. "And I can't stop thinking about how you were looking at my sister earlier."
"It's not—like that—" you protest, but your body—your eyes especially—tells a completely different story.
"That's exactly what it is," she says, biting down on your ear, "You want her, don't you?"
You can't help but moan. It’s the bare minimum and you’re crumbling. "Maybe."
"Sure you do," she grins, pulling away. "I know you fucking do. Just say it."
"I can't help it," you confess. Even with zero pressure, you would have folded anyway. "You're both so—"
"I know," she cuts you off, leaning back into her seat. slipping her own jacket off. "Maybe letting her come was such a stupid idea—"
"No it wasn't," you say, running your hands over her bare shoulders, feeling her creamy skin. "I'm glad she's here."
"Oh, so you can stare at her more?" she retorts, rolling her eyes.
"No," you say, "So I can do this."
With that, you pull her back into a second passionate kiss. She's got you wrapped around her finger, and she's not letting go.
"This is so fucked up," she mutters against your lips.
"Yeah," you agree, sliding your hand beneath her shirt. "But it's us."
She laughs. "You're a real piece of work."
"Says you," you counter, taking the initiative and lifting the shirt over her head.
Chaeyeon's wearing a matching colored bra to her own white undershirt. She's wearing her hair down, her makeup minimal, and you can't get enough of how pretty she is. Sure, her sister's admittedly hotter, but this mature, warm vibe emanating from her feels like home. And that's all you really need.
You lean in for another kiss, but she pushes you away.
"Hands off," she commands, a smirk creeping up her face. "My turn first."
You pull back and nod, watching Chaeyeon take the lead.
She then slips off her jeans and a white thong that matches her bra. Her top follows suit, unhooking the clasp to let the bra loose. Topless now, her tits hang freely, nipples taut. Not exactly big, but not flat either—a perfect handful.
You can't resist the urge to reach out and touch, but she stops your hands, shaking her head.
"No," she orders, stern. "Watch."
So you follow as she leans back on her seat, spreading her legs. Dipping a finger down her inner thighs, she rubs her aching, splayed core, already wet and glistening. Spreading the folds, revealing the pink flesh inside, Chaeyeon begins to play with her clit, moaning and sighing as she pleasures herself.
"You're so beautiful," you say, as if it wasn't already so fucking obvious.
"You've seen me naked a hundred times," she sighs out, her eyes meeting you through her daze, "It's not like I'm doing anything new."
"But you're still amazing," you say, leaning back in your seat. "Especially like this."
"Oh, shut up," she rolls her eyes. The pace quickens, and her focus begins to tear at the seams.
"What? You don't like it when I compliment you?"
"It's not that," she says, sighing deeply. "Just—fuck. I hate this traffic."
"It's not like we can control that," you point out. "But here?"
"We can," she says, a sly smile creeping up her face. "I'm sure you can, at least."
"I'm sure," you say, doubtful. "And what about Chaery—"
"She said we were too loud, yeah?" Chaeyeon's stroking grows faster and faster. She's biting her lower lip, her voice rising out of frustration. "Then I'll show her."
"Babe, you're getting a bit too into this," you try to dissuade her, knowing she's already too far gone to stop.
"Then you better hurry up and get in," she says, her tone growing desperate, sealing your fate. "I'm not letting you go."
"I wasn't planning on leaving," you reply, pulling off your shirt.
"Then what the fuck are you waiting for?"
Your answer is simple: by shedding off your pants and boxers.
"Fuck, yes," she sighs out, now two fingers deep, rubbing herself vigorously at the sight of your hard cock. "Get in."
So you do as told, climbing over the gearstick. She pulls you into a kiss, her tongue meeting yours, and you fall into her embrace. Shifting positions, Chaeyeon wraps her slender legs around your waist as you join her in the passenger seat, leaning back against the door before relaxing in the chair.
"God, I'm so fucking horny," she whines, brushing your length with her wet, dripping core. "You're gonna have to fuck me really hard to fix that."
"I can't do that," you say, cupping her breast, drawing a sigh from her sweet lips. "I don't wanna make a mess of the car."
"Fuck the mess," she says, her grip tightening. "I don't give a shit anymore. I just need it now. Need you."
"That's not a good way to put it," you argue flimsily, playfully pinching her nipple in faux-protest, but it only arouses her.
"Just shut up and fuck me," she demands, pulling you into another kiss.
"But Chaery—"
"Enough."
She quiets you down with the crash of her hips against your cock. Her pussy swallows your shaft whole, burying you to the hilt.
"Fuck," she grits out, her nails digging into your shoulders. "So good—"
"I've barely moved," you counter, her hips rocking back and forth.
"Shut up and just fuck me—" she commands, breaths heavy and her voice strained.
You begin to move your hips in sync, and the friction drives you absolutely insane. She's so fucking tight and warm—it's beyond heavenly. The car's growing humid, the air suddenly feeling thick and hot. It's suffocating, but you can't stop, not when it feels this good.
"Fuck," you mutter, her warm, slick walls clamping around your cock. "That's so tight—"
"You're not even moving," she grunts, her voice growing hoarse. "Keep going—"
You certainly can't deny her request, and you're not one to disappoint. Especially when you're balls deep, filling up her womb. So you ramp up the pace, slamming your hips against hers, making her moan and cry out in pleasure.
"Fuck!" she cries out, carrying through the confined walls of the vehicle. "Right there—"
You can't help but smirk, continuing to hit her sweet spot. Chaeyeon's so fucking cute when she's needy, when she's so desperate for your cock.
"Like that?" you tease, slamming deep into her again.
"Yes!" she screams. "So good—"
Her breasts bounces to the rhythm of your bodies meeting halfway. You can't stop yourself from reaching out and grabbing one, massaging and squeezing it, feeling how smooth, warm, and soft they are in your grasp. She's so sensitive, her cries only growing louder and louder, threatening to break through the car's confines.
"Oh God—" she sighs out, her legs clenching tightly around your waist. "Please don't stop—don't you ever fucking stop—"
Not that you had any intention to.
The car's windows are starting to fog up, and the heat inside has grown unbearable. You're not sure how long you can last like this, but you're not stopping, not when she's so close.
"God," you moan against her lips when she tilts forward. "You're so fucking hot—"
"I know," Chaeyeon stammers out, managing to catch you in a passionate kiss. "I know."
You can feel her muscles clench and spasm, her walls pulse and flex around your cock. So close—so fucking close—but you can't hold back, not when she's squeezing you like this.
"I'm gonna cum," you grit out, thrusting deeper and faster into her, losing control over yourself and letting instinct take over, "I'm gonna cum—"
"Yes! Fuck me!" she cries out. "Cum inside me—fill me up—"
There's not much more you can take, but you can't resist the urge to just give in. Your movements grow sloppy, erratic, and her voice ebbs and flows with each thrust.
And you've got no other choice.
"I'm cumming—"
"Me too—"
With one final thrust, you let out a deep groan, her cries echoing in your ears, your bodies writhing in unison. You shoot bursts of your load deep into her womb, her walls spasming and clenching around your throbbing cock. You keep going, pumping every last drop into her, until she's milked you completely dry.
"God—" Chaeyeon mutters against your skin, lifting her hips ever so slightly, and it just—spills out. Your cum and hers, staining the leather seat and your thighs, before she comes back down to earth.
And she stays there, seated on your lap, your withering cock brushing on her inner thigh, breathing heavily as your bodies crash from that unbelievable high, depleted of all your strength.
Neither of you notice the constant knocking on the door.
"Shit."
It's a collective sigh, a unified realization of your worst nightmares come true: a clear red flag of how much you fucked up.
From the outside, Chaeryeong has seen everything—or at least, enough to be disappointed and rightfully frustrated.
Unlocking the doors through the key, she quietly packs all the stuff in the boot before slipping inside the backseat, crossing a leg, shooting this awkward, wide-eyed pout that tells you everything you need to know.
For a few tense minutes, the air is awkward; you have no clue where to begin. The fact that the car reeks of sex, or that you and Chaeyeon are naked in the passenger seat, clothes puddled on the floor, or that you've left Chaeryeong outside to watch you getting ridden for a few minutes.
Then Chaeryeong breaks the silence, her arms crossed, staring out the window. "You could have at least waited till I came back."
"Thought you hated us for being too loud and affectionate?" you quip.
"Sure, but that doesn't mean I should be left out," she answers.
"I didn't think you'd want to be involved," Chaeyeon interjects, her fingers digging a little too deep into your skin, a claiming.
"Well obviously, I would," she fires back. "I'm not that stupid."
"You heard her," Chaeyeon turns her gaze to you, patting you on the neck, implying that this isn't over. Far from. "Still got plenty, I can tell."
And well, there's no denying her.
Chaeryeong's already undressing in the backseat, down to those same black panties and underwear you've been ogling while in traffic. Can't be caught outside looking like this, even for a second. Then you have Chaeyeon still on your lap, even as you gingerly clamber off the seat and shift across the center console, joining the younger sister in the back.
She then pushes you further back against the seats, spreading your legs wide and letting herself climb over your lap. All while Chaeyeon watches from the passenger seat.
"Better hope she's right," Chaeryeong mutters, pressing her hands against your chest. She lets a bit of her panties slip, enough to let your cock brush against her core. "I'm not as forgiving."
You can only swallow your throat.
And she fucking crashes into you.
A deep groan escapes your lips as Chaeryeong envelops your cock, her tight, warm, wet walls stretching to fit your shaft. It doesn't take much to get you fully hard again.
"Fuck," she moans out, her voice lilting. "You're so big—"
"Not that big," Chaeyeon chimes in, smiling at her sister.
"Really?" Chaeryeong bites her lip, a teasing smirk creeping up her face. "Not satisfied, I guess."
"That's not what I said," Chaeyeon rolls her eyes playfully before bursting into laughter.
"Mhm," Chaeryeong hums, sarcastic, playing along. "Sure."
"Guys, c'mon," you plead, trying not to look at the both of them. "Can we not?"
"Not saying anything," Chaeyeon's glare on you is teasing, jokingly acting offended at your unwelcome interruption.
"No, but I am," Chaeryeong fires back, rolling her hips and drawing another groan from you as she starts riding you.
And she's right. While Chaeyeon is graceful, delicate with her hips, Chaeryeong is more instinctual, more depraved, each grind deep and frenzied. She makes sure every inch fills her: a hand rested on her svelte waist, her eyes staring deep into your soul, locking you in, ensuring your focus stays on her—and only her.
"Look at me," she coos, a hand caressing your cheek. "See? I can do it better."
"Don't go that far," Chaeyeon shoots back, her tone playful, yet edging.
"Didn't hear him complaining," Chaeryeong retorts, grinding harder and harder.
"He's not complaining," Chaeyeon agrees, her tone light, "Just not as enthusiastic."
"I can change that," Chaeryeong replies, her breath hot and heavy, and—Christ.
Each rise and fall of her hips is reckless abandon; each time she slams her body down on yours, her slick folds take you deeper and deeper, until the tip hits her cervix. You can't help but meet her halfway, and it's absolute euphoria.
It's all in the little details: the way her abs flex and contract, how she arches her back every now and then, the subtle bounce of her tits, or the way her thighs press against your own, or the way her hair frames her face, or her nails digging into your shoulder, or the way her soft, pink, glossy lips part, letting out a litany of whimpers and moans, or the way her eyes stare directly at you and you alone, or the way her pussy swallows your entire length, her walls fluttering and pulsing and clenching, or the way her slim, sweaty body moves, or the way her neck and collarbone glistens, or the way her voice grows hoarse and her pitch rises, or the way her heart pounds beneath her skin, or the way her grip tightens—
"Fuck," you mutter, the singular word spilling out. And it means the world to her.
"You're doing great," Chaeyeon says, her voice low, her gaze transfixed.
"I know," Chaeryeong grins, her smile widening. "I'm not an idiot."
"We didn't say you were," Chaeyeon says, almost defensive, her voice rising.
There's no comparing the two, you simply can't. Each one has their own way of taking you—of using you, and you fucking love both. It only changes depending on the day.
"Yeah, but you're not very good at hiding it," Chaeryeong continues, her tone light, not at all bothered by her older sister's frustration.
"Well, if he likes me better, then that's fair," Chaeyeon says, jealousy seeping through her voice.
"Is that why you're getting mad?" Chaeryeong fires back.
"Not really," Chaeyeon lies.
"It's not about who's better," you try to intervene, but neither are willing to listen.
"Then why are you getting jealous?" Chaeryeong presses, her pace ramping up, her eyes locked on you.
"Because—" Chaeyeon starts, before her words die in her mouth. "—Nevermind."
"Go on," Chaeryeong says, her eyes leaving you, shifting towards her. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Chaeyeon insists, turning her head away.
"Oh, c'mon," Chaeryeong says.
"Seriously, it's nothing," Chaeyeon repeats, her voice trailing off.
"If it's nothing, then why are you blushing?" Chaeryeong teases, a smirk on her lips.
"I'm not," Chaeyeon denies, her voice cracking.
All while they're having that needless, admittedly petty familial bickering you have no business being part of, but here you are, so dangerously close to a second orgasm, unsure of what to say, because fuck—
"I'm close—" you grit out, leaning your head back, gasping for much needed air.
"Shut it," they collectively say in unison, moving their heads like a synchronized unit. And then the realization hits their faces like lightning. "Wait—"
"Are you fucking serious—"
The two share a hearty laugh, smiles wide and toothy, but it doesn't stop. Chaeryeong has no intention to stop, not when you're at the apex.
"Sorry, babe," Chaeyeon covers her mouth, but she's still laughing. "C'mon Chaery. Make sure he fills you up."
"Of course," Chaeryeong smirks, her eyes narrowing, her focus sharp.
With a final thrust, you can't hold back, and you spill.
Your cum shoots deep into her womb, and you can't do much else but groan and moan and whimper; she's so fucking wet and warm and inviting, it's driving you insane.
"Don't waste a drop," she mutters, her voice low, a stark contrast to Chaeyeon's loudness.
And Chaeryeong makes sure of that: your cock stays buried to the hilt, her walls spasming and clenching around you, making sure you fill her completely. Painting her walls white, filling her womb, and then some.
Time slows. Her gaze remains frozen in place, breaths slow but heavy, her body relaxing and coming to a halt, but it stays buried there, through the dying embers of your orgasm.
"Fucking hell," she breathes out, her eyes softening, her lips curling into a smile. "You came so much."
"Can tell," Chaeyeon remarks, noticing your load spilling on the backseat.
You merely shake your head. Your senses are all over the place; it's a dizzying spiral that's gonna take a while to recover from. At least there's some comfort in the form of Chaeryeong's warm cunt.
Then the stomachs grumble.
"So—" Chaeyeon then starts, patting her sister on the shoulder. "What do we do? About the food?"
Right.
You're all naked, covered in cum stains, and sore. Really fucking sore. Most importantly, starving—for real, this time. There's still a long way to go till your destination, but you might as well be there with how much you've came inside them.
"I'm not going outside looking like this," Chaeryeong immediately denies.
"Me neither," says Chaeyeon, citing the exact same reason.
"This is your fault for wanting some before getting there, by the way," the younger sister remarks.
"How is that my problem?" Chaeyeon lilts, staring daggers at Chaeryeong. "Didn't you hate how loud we were? I took a chance while you were gone and—"
Nevermind the fact that she's still on top of you and they're bickering again, acting like you never existed at all.
11.8k words | smut, fluff, subby eunbi, also masseuse eunbi, titjob, oiled handjob
━•✦•━•✦•━
The sunlight, slashing through the curtains like knives, made you frown, waking you up. You forced your eyes open. The first thing you saw was the ceiling, but it wasn't your apartment; the lights were different.
A sudden headache made you hiss and look to your right, your hand pressed against your forehead, where most of the pain was concentrated. The floor was a mess: shoes, underwear, your own clothes, crumpled balls of toilet paper, and empty vodka and whiskey bottles. It was clear you had a killer hangover, but... what had happened?
Then you noticed the warm weight on the left side of your chest. Kazuha. She was sleeping completely naked, curled up against you like you were her teddy bear, one thigh over yours and her long hair cascading down your collarbone. The girl looked beautiful, like an angel. A strange contrast to the demon she had been last night.
All the memories flooded your mind at once. You were at the Shilla Hotel, in the far from modest suite you'd returned to in the wee hours of the morning for an after-party that ended with the two of you drunk and fucking like rabbits in heat.
Your head throbbed with pain. You groaned softly and frantically searched for your phone under the covers, struggling with your limited mobility since your left arm was occupied hugging Kazuha. You finally found it near your knee. The battery was about to die, and you had several unread messages.
Among them, Heejin's.
You sighed, set your phone aside, and put your hand to your face, feeling like an idiot for forgetting you were supposed to go to the adoption center together. Heejin wasn't angry, that was for sure. In fact, she was probably more worried than anything else. But you still felt terrible; Breaking promises to the people you loved was one of the things that weighed most heavily on your conscience.
"Fuck..." you muttered.
Kazuha stirred slightly, and a minute later stretched against you. She opened one eye to look at you, then closed it again.
"What's with that distraught look?" she asked in a husky, low voice, pressing herself closer to you. "Don't tell me you regret this."
"What are you talking about?" you retorted, frowning as you stroked her back. You felt small, well-defined muscles beneath your fingers. "It's not that. It's just that I should go."
Kazuha opened her eyes a little and looked at you again, her head tilted to one side. Her expression was, of course, carefree. All she had to do was sleep, spend, eat, drink, fuck, and repeat the process.
"It's too early, daddy..." she grumbled, burying her face in your chest.
"It's almost one o'clock."
Kazuha groaned.
"Five more minutes!" she pleaded, wrapping an arm around your waist. "You're nice and warm."
It was tempting, because you could say the same about her and that spectacularly hot body pressed against yours. But you couldn't: there were more important things at that moment.
You stroked her back for a while with your fingertips, slowly and gently, making her sigh and give you little kisses on your chest.
"I'm sorry, but I really have to go, Zuha."
"Tsk, you're so boring," she muttered in response, not moving an inch. Only a little while later did she barely lift her head and look at you with a small, sleepy smile. "Text me later, okay? I'll keep thinking about you."
With that, Kazuha gave you a slow, soft kiss on your jaw. You returned it, kissing her lips, and without meaning to, you lingered a little too long. You kissed for a couple more minutes until you finally pulled away.
That damn girl was a danger you had to be careful of.
Kazuha settled under the covers, grabbed the pillow you'd been using, turned her back to you, and wrapped her arms and legs around it. You stood up to gather your things.
"Maybe when I wake up I'll rub my pussy against this pillow until I cum..." you heard her say softly, without looking at you. "It smells like you."
"I'd love to see it," you replied sincerely, getting dressed. "But I won't be here anymore, I'm afraid."
"I'll send you a video, then."
You chuckled. Damn. A danger, definitely. Cocaine incarnate.
After getting dressed, washing your face in the bathroom, and making sure you hadn't forgotten anything, you went over to her and kissed her shoulder one last time.
"See you later, little devil," you whispered in her ear.
Kazuha only offered a faint smile and continued sleeping soundly. You left the suite, then the hotel, and hailed a taxi to take you to Hannam.
The headache hadn't subsided by the time you arrived at your apartment complex in Hannam.
You leaned against the elevator wall, ran a hand through your hair, and closed your eyes, resting your head back. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. You seriously doubted you'd ever repeat a night like that in your life. Of course, part of that was because Kazuha wasn't going to last forever. But you were going to make sure you set some boundaries next time; you couldn't afford to have that kind of hangover.
When you reached your floor, you sighed out of the elevator and walked with a strange mix of guilt and discomfort toward your apartment. Opening the door, you were greeted by a tense silence. Different. Heejin was in the living room, sitting on the floor with her graphics tablet on the coffee table, her short, blonde hair still a little damp, wearing a loose t-shirt, drawing with her headphones on. She didn't seem angry, but she didn't turn around right away when she noticed you either.
"Oh, hi," she said, taking out one earbud but still holding the stylus.
"Hi, Heekie," you greeted, walking over to her, leaning in, and placing a kiss on the top of her head. You put your keys on the small table. "Sorry... you know, for showing up so late."
Heejin nodded calmly.
"It's okay," she said, focused on her drawing. "You must have had your reasons. Did you get any sleep, at least?"
"Damn, I was more like knocked out," you sighed, sitting down on the sofa behind her. "Sorry if I worried you."
Heejin placed the stylus on the tablet with a sigh and adjusted herself to look at you.
"I wasn't worried, silly," she corrected you. "I just... I wish you'd arrived earlier," she turned back to her tablet. "But it is what it is."
You nodded, swallowing hard and feeling guilty.
"I know, I'm sorry," you said, looking down. "I'll try to make sure something like this doesn't happen again."
Heejin simply shrugged, calmer than you expected.
"I'm not your jailer, Hans," she said. "It's your job. I know what this is all about; I'm the one who got you into it, after all. Just let me know when we can go."
You took a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief. Still looking at her, you got off the sofa and sat on the floor beside her, wrapping an arm around her small waist and placing a kiss on her shoulder.
"Thanks for understanding, baby," you said softly.
Heejin let out a small smile and turned her head to look you straight in the eyes.
"Aren't you going to shower?" she asked. "You look like death. And you smell like..."
You laughed and stood up.
"Yeah, I'm going to."
"Oh, I saved some food I ordered in the fridge for you, by the way," she added as you headed toward the hallway.
You turned around and smiled. You really didn't deserve that woman.
"Thanks, honey."
Feeling sticky and still smelling of alcohol in your clothes, you went straight to your bedroom bathroom, undressed, and stepped into the shower. You turned on both faucets a little and let the warm water soothe your aching muscles. You lay there for a few minutes, your hand resting on the ceramic tile against the wall, eyes closed, letting the water cascade down your neck.
After a while of relaxation, you finally opened your eyes and took a proper shower. You got out ten minutes later, dressed in comfortable clothes, to heat up the food Heejin had saved for you. It was chicken and vegetables with kimchi.
While you ate, you sat down with her to chat for a while. The conversation flowed to trivial topics at first, discussing silly things from the day or talking about the drawing Heejin was working on. Naturally, you had to tell her what happened with Kazuha, and you both came to the same conclusion: it was best to keep an eye on that girl and treat her like a biochemical threat.
Otherwise, she didn't seem jealous or upset. Rather, she teased you repeatedly, as was her custom.
A couple of notifications popped up on your phone while Heejin was laughing hysterically at you and how you'd acted with Kazuha when she'd been acting like a brat. Messages from the boss.
You sighed aloud and stood up.
Heejin stopped laughing when she saw your face.
"What, Sunmi?" she asked.
"Yeah, work," you nodded, clearing the plates from the small table.
"Well, don't be too long, because I want to have dinner with you tonight," she said, hugging her knees to her chest.
"I'll give you some money to go grocery shopping, okay? We really need to fill those ridiculously large pantries," you said.
"You realize I won't be able to carry all those bags by myself, right?"
"We'll pay someone. I'm sure Sunmi can help me with that."
Heejin frowned and made a face.
"Sunmi helping me carry bags of food upstairs for money? Are you crazy?"
"Not her, dumbass. Whoever she knows. Or do you think a woman with that much money does everything herself?"
Heejin stared off into space and shrugged after a long silence.
"Let me know then," she said. "Go get dressed and hurry."
"Right," you nodded, and turned to go put the dirty dishes in the kitchen. Then you headed to the hallway that led to your bedroom, but stopped when you remembered something. "By the way, remember what you said about a car?"
Heejin spun around to face you, nearly breaking her neck. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded eagerly.
"Well, I might come back here with a little surprise."
"Yaaaaay!!" Heejin threw her arms up in celebration, clapping her hands.
You laughed, blew her a kiss, and went to get dressed. Sunmi had said to dress well, so you put to use as much of the fashion knowledge she and Heejin had shared with you to choose an outfit. You opted for a fitted black T-shirt tucked into high-waisted brown trousers, held up by a black leather belt. For footwear, you wore black dress shoes. The finishing touch was a Rolex Submariner, which, of course, Sunmi had also given you.
All ready, you went outside, gave Heejin a goodbye kiss, and took the elevator to Sunmi's floor.
The door opened immediately, not even five seconds after you rang the bell. Sunmi, standing in the doorway, as beautiful and immaculate as ever (today dressed more casually than usual), looked you up and down with a half-smile.
"I'm glad you're learning to dress well," she said. "Come here."
Sunmi gently took hold of your shirt collar and pulled you in for a brief but intense kiss, making you blush. Then, she turned and walked inside.
"Come in, please. And close the door."
You followed Sunmi after she did as she asked, and upon reaching her living room, you realized she wasn't alone that night.
A visibly young girl sat on the sofa, short, with a round face and soft features. Her black hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, with two long strands framing her temples. She wore a buttoned up red cardigan with a flared khaki skirt, and thin-framed round glasses.
You were taken aback for a moment. She was... well, she was gorgeous.
"Ah, well," Sunmi stopped in the middle of the room. Sealed boxes of varying sizes were scattered around her. "That's Hanni, my art curator."
Hanni looked up from her iPad and the notebook on her lap and met your gaze.
"Hello," she said, with a slight nod and a discreet smile. "You're... that guy Miss Lee was talking about?"
"Uh... yeah?" you replied, glancing at Sunmi but maintaining the formality. "Call me Hans."
Sunmi blinked once, making no attempt to hide her surprise.
"Hans?" she repeated. "I thought your real name was a state secret."
"The opportunity to say it hadn't come up," you replied.
"Well, it's about time," Sunmi said. "I'd rather use your name than some suspiciously dubious alias."
Hanni, who was listening with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, looked at you again.
"Nice to meet you, Hans," she said formally.
"I can say the same," you nodded, looking into her eyes for a few extra seconds before turning back to Sunmi. "What do you need an art curator for?"
The question earned you a blank stare from Sunmi.
"To slice the ham I buy," she scoffed. "What do you mean, 'What do I need an art curator for?'"
You shrugged.
"I didn't know you organized art exhibitions."
"Not this time," Sunmi glanced at the boxes around her. "This is all for auction. Hopefully, I'll recoup double my initial investment."
"And I take care of reviewing all the material beforehand," Hanni said from the sofa. She had turned her attention back to her iPad and notebook, where she was jotting things down with a pencil. "I estimate market prices, original value, estimated profits, and that sort of thing."
You nodded slowly.
"Interesting."
"Yeah, but you're not here to learn about art, boy," Sunmi said, taking your arm to lead you to another side of the room where Hanni couldn't hear. "You have a new client. Quite generous with her pay, I must say."
"Great," you said. "As long as they're not like the last two demons you threw at me."
"Well, you're in luck because she's a real sweetheart," Sunmi said, pulling out her phone and you watched her type. "And I'm not being sarcastic. She's too good for the mess she has to deal with every day."
It took little more than a couple of seconds for a notification to pop up on your phone. An address.
"Kwon Eunbi, one of the most sought-after physical therapists in the country," Sunmi said. "Olympic athletes, idols, models, baseball players. You name it, she works with them. 70k for the full service."
You checked the address for a moment before nodding, pretending not to be impressed by a figure that must be pocket change for women like her.
"Does a physical therapist earn that much?" you asked.
"At certain levels, yes," Sunmi replied. "Especially when the results are excellent 95% of the time. But she also comes from a family that has been wealthy for generations. Her father is a cardiovascular surgeon, and her mother, besides being a medical professor, is the director of a university hospital."
"That explains it, then."
"The thing is, she took a real liking to you when I told her about you," Sunmi continued. "So everything's closed. She wants you there at 6."
"That's in an hour."
"Exactly!" Sunmi forced a smile. "So you'd better get going. I already sent you the address."
"Got it," you nodded, turning to walk to the door.
"By the way, be nice, okay?" Sunmi said from behind you. "She's a... sensitive woman. You'd better make a good impression."
You turned to face her and nodded.
"It won't be a problem," you said, and as you were about to say goodbye to Hanni before leaving, something came back to you. "Oh, by the way, Heejin has to go grocery shopping today and can't carry all the bags. Do you have anyone who could help her? I don't want her to do it alone."
"Well, I don't really have anyone available right now," Sunmi said thoughtfully. "But..."
"I can drop by," Hanni said.
Sunmi and you both turned to face her, taken aback.
"Are you sure?" you asked. "You're not like..." you gestured around, encompassing every box in the room. "Busy?"
"Oh, no," Hanni shook her head. "I'm already finished here, and besides, I live about ten minutes away. It's no trouble at all."
You hesitated. She was quite kind, yes, but unexpectedly direct, too.
Although, you had to admit you preferred her to some random Sunmi's employee whose name you wouldn't even know.
"I don't want to bother you," you said.
Hanni shook her head, her lips curving into a kind smile.
"It's no bother at all," she said. "Sunmi mentioned that she's quite important to you, so it's fine with me to help a friend of my friend."
Sunmi turned to you, both eyebrows raised at the sudden solution that had fallen into your lap.
"Well, there you go," she said, then gestured toward the door. "Now go. I don't want you to be late and then get blamed for your tardiness."
"Yeah, yeah," you nodded. "Um... thanks, both of you."
Hanni just smiled at you, while Sunmi rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, get lost, boy," Sunmi said as you left.
You gave Hanni one last gaze, smiled back, and turned to leave the apartment. Outside, you hurried down the stairs and hailed a taxi.
Cheongdam was about thirty minutes from Hannam, across the Han River to the south side of Seoul. Eunbi's apartment complex was already famous for housing a number of celebrities. You went to the skyscraper on the east side, where you had to check in at reception and wait for them to call Eunbi so you could go up.
After a little over a minute, the elevator took you to one of the building's top floors. Upon exiting, you turned right, following the directions in Sunmi's message, through a long, wide hallway flanked by a pair of doors on either side. The one at the far left was the one you were looking for.
With a slight sigh, after adjusting your outfit and hair, you rang the doorbell.
Seconds later, the door opened. Standing beneath the threshold was—once again—, one of the most beautiful women you were likely to ever see, who looked at you with a serene smile.
Eunbi was a petite woman with short, black hair. Her nose was small and upturned, with full, heart-shaped lips and pretty, almond-shaped eyes. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant outfit, with a long brown skirt and a navy blue long-sleeved top that covered her rather prominent bust.
How is this woman not married? you wondered. How is she even single?
"Hi," she greeted, bowing her head slightly, her voice soft and passive. "You're early."
"Yes, I must say Miss Sunmi rushed me," you smiled, returning the gesture respectfully. "She didn't want to keep you waiting, and neither did I."
Eunbi's smile widened just a little more, so pretty that it made you lower your guard a bit.
“Thank you sincerely, dear,” she said. “But I wouldn’t have minded waiting a little longer. What if you’d had an accident because you were in such a hurry? I would have felt terrible.”
For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. It was the most humane and considerate thing you’d ever heard anyone say, at least not in the elite circle you now belonged to.
“A-Ah… well…” a nervous giggle escaped you.
Eunbi shared the giggle and stepped aside.
“Come in, please,” she said.
“Oh yeah, yeah,” you nodded. “Thank you.”
Eunbi’s apartment was bright without being ostentatious. After passing through the small foyer, you were directly greeted by a spacious living room whose large floor-to-ceiling windows covered the entire side wall, directly opposite the sofas in the center. The furniture was light wood, including the bookcase overflowing with books and a television embedded in the middle.
"You can leave your shoes over there," she gestured gently to the side. "And your phone on that shelf, if you don't mind. We don't want any distractions, do we?"
You quickly did as she asked, even though it didn't sound like a command or a suggestion, as she went up a couple of steps to the kitchen.
"Would you like something to drink, dear?" she asked. "And please sit down."
"Water will be fine, thank you," you nodded with a smile, sitting down in the middle of the sofa.
Eunbi returned with a small glass cup filled with cold water, sat down next to you, leaving enough space for you to decide whether you wanted to be close or keep your distance, and offered it to you. You accepted with a nod and took a sip before placing it on the varnished wooden table in front of you.
"So, how was your day?" She asked, crossing her legs and tilting her head to look at you.
What? you thought. A client asking about my day?
You couldn't help but chuckle, letting a small smile escape you. This was completely new to you.
"Ah, well, better than yesterday, honestly," you said. "Although I got up pretty late. I've only been lucid for about four hours."
Eunbi laughed.
"And how's that? What did you do last night?"
You sighed, remembering the whole mess. You were pretty sure you'd never drunk that much. You were also pretty sure you'd never come six times in one night. Kazuha had made that possible.
"Another client pushed me to boundaries I didn't even know I had," you said. "It was kind of... crazy. I woke up with a killer hangover."
Eunbi raised her eyebrows, as if suddenly concerned. She placed a gentle hand on your forearm.
"Oh no! And how are you now?" Eunbi looked you up and down. "Tell me you're not feeling unwell and that I didn't make you come here in that state, please."
"I had a headache earlier, but I'm fine now," you assured her.
"Are you sure? I can get you a pill if you need one..." She paused, then her eyes sparkled. "Oh, right! A massage!"
"Uh... what?"
"A massage," Eunbi repeated. "Didn't Sunmi tell you I'm a physical therapist? I also give massages."
"I mean, yes, but..." you hesitated. "You're the one paying for the service, not me."
"One thing doesn't negate the other, does it?"
"Well, no, but..."
Eunbi closed the distance a few centimeters, just enough to make you feel her warmth.
"It's a full service, isn't it?" Eunbi said, her voice softening to a seductive sweetness. "That means it's your duty to meet any need I have."
You turned your head and met her gaze. She seemed eager. You could see the excitement in her eyes.
"Your need is to take care of me?"
"One of them," Eunbi acknowledged.
"And the rest?"
"You'll see. As long as you let me take care of you first."
"I don't have a choice, do I?"
"Actually, you do," Eunbi replied. "But I trust you'll make the right one."
Eunbi held your gaze, her lips curved in a small smile. It wasn't a difficult choice for you, because after all, you had so much to gain and almost nothing to lose. The balance would almost certainly be positive. Not to mention that you'd be more than happy to let this woman take care of you.
Besides, it was easy money. Was there anything better than easy, honest money?
"I'm all yours, then."
Eunbi's smile widened. She stood up.
"Come with me, please."
Eunbi offered you her hand, and you took it as you stood. Then she led you through her apartment to a room at the end of one of the two main hallways.
"Welcome to my workspace," she said, entering first.
The room was an elegant, rather small, but well-equipped massage parlor. A single, wide, long table, slightly curved at the headrest, dominated the center, covered with a quilted sheet that concealed the legs. On the back wall were a couple of shelves filled with various products and a chest of drawers with multiple compartments, both made of light wood.
"Please undress," Eunbi said, walking to the back to check her equipment.
"Uh... right here?" you asked. "Should I close the door?"
"Why would you close the door if we're alone?" Eunbi replied. "Don't bother, darling. And yes, right here."
You shrugged and stood to one side of the massage table as you undressed, leaving each garment neatly folded in a corner near the wall.
"All done?" Eunbi asked, still with her back to you. "Here, to cover yourself. Then I need you to lie face down, okay?"
Eunbi grabbed a towel from the corner of the dresser and reached behind her to hand it to you. You took it, wrapped it around your waist, and lay down as she asked on the comfortable massage table, arms crossed. Your eyes met when she turned around. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of you naked.
"All set, darling?" she asked, rolling up her sleeves to her elbows.
"Yep," you replied.
"Great!"
Eunbi turned and picked up two scented candles, placing one at each end of the room. When she lit them, the aroma of red berries quickly filled your nostrils. She returned to you, now standing beside you. Her hands rested gently on your lower back.
"Well, first I need to ask you a few questions..." Her hands roamed your back, her fingertips gently trailing across it. "To start, does anything hurt? Any discomfort?"
"Um... no, nothing hurts," you replied. "I just feel my hips a little tight when I twist my torso, but it's very slight."
"Okay," Eunbi said. "Do you have any sensitive areas or any weaker limbs?"
"Not that I know of."
"Great, and lastly..." Eunbi bent down to pick something up from under the table where you were lying. In your peripheral vision, you could see it was a small glass bottle with a clear liquid inside. "Have you ever had an oil massage?"
"I haven't had the pleasure," you replied. "Much less from such a lovely masseuse."
Eunbi let out a shy giggle. If you could have seen her, you would have seen her blush.
"Take a deep breath and relax, okay?"
You filled your lungs with air, let out a long exhale, and closed your eyes. There were a few seconds of silence. The next thing you felt was her hands, covered in warm oil, resting on your back. You couldn't help but sigh.
Eunbi pressed her fingers into your shoulders and began with slow, long strokes from there down to your lower back, spreading the slippery oil over your skin. With that area covered, Eunbi proceeded to work her magic on your muscles, massaging from your shoulder blades to your lower back, along both sides of your spine.
"Does it feel good?" Eunbi asked, her voice almost a whisper, in a loving tone, making circles with her thumbs on your trapezius muscles.
"God, yes," you sighed. "Wonderful."
"I'm glad to hear that. I'll apply a little more pressure here, okay? You've got a few knots."
Eunbi dug her thumbs into your rhomboids, pushing down. The pressure made you hold your breath. But when she released after a few seconds, the feeling of relief sent a shiver through you. She repeated the process a couple more times, on your shoulder blades, under your ribs, and on your lower back, leaving you feeling like you were going to melt beneath her fingers.
Damn, no wonder she's so sought after... you thought, now feeling like you were breathing much better.
"I'm going to lower the towel... just a little," Eunbi said, her hands on the edge of your towel.
"Just a little" turned out to be all the way down to below your buttocks. You didn't object. Eunbi poured more oil on her hands and worked on your gluteal muscles. The sensation was strange, as you weren't used to being touched there. However, as Eunbi worked her fingers in slow circles on your pelvis and near your inner thighs, you became more and more comfortable with it.
"You know what? You won't need this anymore."
"Hm?"
Before you could do anything, Eunbi took your towel and slowly pulled it away from your waist, letting it fall to the floor. Now you were completely naked. Then, with her hands covered in a fresh layer of oil, she placed one on your inner thigh and moved it up until it met your soft cock beneath you. It was only a second of contact, but she rubbed it with her entire palm before returning to her starting position.
"Oh god..." you whispered to yourself as Eunbi repeated the motion, prolonging it on your cock.
"Do you like it?" Eunbi asked in a silky voice, followed by a giggle. "It's getting... hard."
She wasn't lying. In a matter of seconds, you were as hard as an oak, your cock pressed between your body and the table. Eunbi placed her hand underneath, rubbing your cock and balls with her slick palm until her fingers wrapped around the shaft. She slowly masturbated you for a few seconds before removing her hand.
"Turn around, darling," Eunbi said. "But keep your eyes closed until I tell you."
You placed your hands on the table and did as she asked. The room fell into a momentary silence, broken only by the rustling of fabric and clothes falling to the floor. Seconds later, you felt Eunbi's hands settle on your chest and abdomen.
"You can open your eyes now," Eunbi whispered.
Your jaw nearly dropped when you did. Eunbi had taken off her polo shirt and her bra, so the most beautiful and perfect pair of breasts you'd ever seen were free. Two gorgeous, round melons with small, pink nipples that you were sure barely fit in your hands.
Your cock throbbed in response. Eunbi glanced down at it.
"You liked the view, didn't you?" Eunbi giggled, running a finger along the back of your shaft. She was blushing.
"I..." you swallowed. "Damn, I don't even know what to say."
"It's okay," Eunbi looked at you. "Let's continue the massage, shall we?"
Eunbi gave you the same treatment she'd given your back, adding your neck and thighs as well. The focus was on treating the minor discomfort you mentioned in your hips, but you didn't even realize when she'd finished because you'd spent the whole time staring at her breasts bouncing and jiggling, passing inches from your face.
"So?" Eunbi stood right behind your head, rubbing her hands on your oil-slicked chest. "How does your body feel?"
"Like I've been in heaven for a moment," you replied, looking up at her breasts hovering just above your face. They were mere inches away. All you had to do was stretch a little...
"I don't think you've felt true heaven yet," she murmured, looking down at you. Then she lowered her right hand down your chest and abdomen until she reached your cock. "Do you know the best payment you can offer me for this massage?"
"What?" you gasped as she rubbed her warm, oiled palm over your cock.
"To show me how much you're going to like what I'm about to do."
Eunbi took your cock between her fingers and held it straight, slowly moving her wrist up and down. Then, as if she'd heard all your prayers, she bent forward and pressed her breasts against your face.
Your first instinct was to let out a small moan of satisfaction as you captured one of her nipples in your mouth. Eunbi moaned softly, shifting her breast so you could suck on the other. Her hand moved up and down your cock, gentle, enveloping, and deep strokes, her fingers firm.
Eunbi's breasts were soon coated with your saliva, and your cock was already throbbing beneath her soft fingers as she continued her slow but exquisite handjob. You sucked each nipple hungrily, sometimes taking more of her mound than your mouth could hold, eager to taste as much as possible of those delicious, soft pairs of tits.
"Do you… like it?" you heard Eunbi gasp. It didn't sound like dirty talk, though; it seemed like a genuine question fueled by some kind of hesitation.
"Mmm," you nodded, your mouth full of soft, tender flesh, twisting your hips slightly.
Eunbi let out a moan as you licked her nipple.
"So... do you want me to go a little faster?"
You nodded again as quickly as you could.
Eunbi's hand now moved slightly faster on your shaft, in a deliciously slick back and forth that sent shivers through your body. Your hands were now part of the equation too; while you sucked and kissed one breast, one hand focused on squeezing the other, brushing and pinching her nipples, which you soon realized were sensitive.
You moaned a little louder, and Eunbi moved her hand faster, its side now bumping against the base with each pump, resulting in soft splashes of the dripping oil. Despite her apparent insecurity, you could tell she knew exactly what she was doing. After all, she was a grown woman, probably nearing 30, so she certainly had plenty of experience.
"Is this fast okay?" she asked.
"It's perfect," you barely managed to reply. "God, please don't stop."
Eunbi pressed the full weight of her chest against your face, instantly suffocating you with her breasts. You did your best to take as much flesh into your mouth as possible, but no matter how hard you tried, those amazing melons always seemed to slip through.
Beyond that, all you could do was moan and writhe.
The handjob Eunbi was giving you reached its peak. She moved her wrist swiftly, covering every inch without losing her grip for a second. That's when you felt the tingle, but what came next happened so fast you didn't even have time to process it.
Before you knew it, your climax engulfed you like the fireball of a violent explosion. You couldn't see anything, but you could hear Eunbi gasp as you came so hard you felt jets of your own semen spraying all around your cock, your hips twisting, and your feet clenched.
Eunbi slowed down, her wrist now moving in slower, deeper motions to extract every last drop from you. A few seconds passed before she lifted her chest and let you see the mess you'd made.
"I know the question is silly considering the results, but..." Eunbi looked you in the eye and tilted her head. "Did you like it?"
You stared at her silently, your breath ragged.
"Are you kidding?" you finally said.
Eunbi just stared at you, waiting for your answer.
"I loved it, Miss Kwon."
"Call me Eunbi," she smiled. "Stay still, let me clean you up."
Eunbi stepped aside. You stared at the ceiling, your arms hanging limply at your sides. The endearing woman returned not long after, a couple of clean towels in her hands, with which she began to wipe the oil and cum from your body. It took her about five minutes to clean you.
"Let's go to my bedroom, darling," she said, cupping your face in her hand. "Now it's your turn to take care of me."
You stood up so quickly the table wobbled beneath you. Eunbi chuckled, and as you got down, she took your hand and led you out of the room, into the hallway, and then into a bedroom dominated by pastel shades, especially blue and yellow. The furniture was still wooden, but it was all complemented by the colorful decorations.
Eunbi closed the door and stood in front of you. The way she looked at you, her head slightly tilted down, her bright eyes fixed on yours, was green light enough to envelop her in a gentle embrace and press your lips to hers.
Eunbi wrapped her arms around your neck and let out a soft sigh as your lips began to dance together, her heavy, perfect breasts pressed against your bare chest. The first thing you did was hold her small waist, then slide your hands down to her lower back to unzip her skirt and let it fall as she slipped off her sandals. Then your hands moved down to her ass, modest but firm and round.
"Do you work out?" you asked during the slow, sensual exchange of saliva.
"Pilates," she replied, gripping the back of your neck as she stroked your hair.
"Makes sense."
You kissed her again, this time trying to increase the intensity as you led her to the bed, but she pulled away from your lips immediately.
"Um, can you... be gentle with me?" Eunbi asked, immediately blushing. "It's just... I don't like rough treatment. It makes me feel bad. I like... you know, to feel truly loved. Although, of course, that's silly because you barely know me. But the thing is..."
You shook your head, silencing her, and smiled.
"There's no need to explain."
"Really?"
"Absolutely not," you said, making her sit on the bed, and then settle in the center with you crawling over her. "I know exactly what you need."
Eunbi waited for you to kiss her again, but instead you took her hands, interlaced your fingers, and extended her arms upward, placing your hands above her head to bring your kisses to her jawline, from where you continued down to her neck and used your tongue to leave soft, sucking marks on her smooth skin. You were rewarded with soft moans and sighs.
"Lower..." Eunbi whispered, tangling her fingers in your hair.
As you moved down, leaving a trail of kisses along her collarbone and shoulders, you reached her breasts, even prettier from that angle, cupping them in both hands and licking and sucking them one by one. You took your time there. Only after leaving each soft, saliva-covered mound did you continue down.
On the way down, you encountered a flat, toned stomach, with a cute little mole on the lower left. You left kisses there too, while simultaneously grabbing Eunbi's thighs from behind and spreading her legs apart. Her white panties were already wet in the middle. But before bringing your lips there, you brought them to the inside of her thighs, very close to her crotch. Eunbi moaned and tugged at your hair, but didn't complain.
"You're a good girl, aren't you?" you asked, hands behind her knees, keeping her legs spread. Her thighs were already covered in your saliva.
"Yes I am," Eunbi nodded with a moan.
She was twisting her hips slightly, desperate. It wouldn't feel right to torture her, not after how well she had taken care of you not long ago. So, after a couple of seconds, you brought your fingers to the edge of her panties and slowly slid them off her legs. A beautiful, pink, perfectly shaved and wet pussy was what you found. Then, without a second thought, you held her thighs against her abdomen and brought your mouth between her folds.
"Mmmgh," Eunbi moaned, tangling her fingers in strands of your hair. "Thank you."
Eunbi's pussy was a delicious treat for your mouth. A couple of kisses first, a couple of licks afterward. She moaned louder and squeezed your hair, gently guiding your movements. Her thighs tensed under your hands.
"Don't thank me yet," you whispered, salivating between her silky folds.
You moved up a little and focused your attention on her clitoris, with delicate flicks using the tip of your tongue. That was enough to make Eunbi arch her back off the mattress. Looking up, you saw her squeezing her own breasts, and to relieve her of the work, you released her thighs and moved your hands up to do it yourself.
Eunbi rested her thighs on your shoulders and crossed her feet behind your head, careful not to squeeze too hard, while her moans became more breathless with each passing second, reduced to small whimpers that delighted your ears. You had to restrain yourself from devouring her pussy like a beast, as you were sure she would stop you and get angry. But you were constantly on the edge, in a combination of kisses, licks, and sucks that, in a couple of minutes, led her to her first orgasm.
"Mmmgh god!" Eunbi cried out, her heels digging into your back and her hips trembling.
"Did you like it?" you asked, savoring her fluids while you pinched her nipples, eliciting more whimpers from her as she came all over your mouth.
Eunbi giggled amidst her gasps and spasms.
"Are you kidding?" she replied.
Just like she had before, you raised your head and looked her straight in the eyes.
"I loved it..." she paused, unsure what to call you.
"Call me Hans."
Eunbi nodded, pleased.
"I loved it, Hans," she said, with a little smile. "Would you come... kiss me?"
"I'd be delighted."
You sat up and lay down beside her to kiss her. Eunbi cradled your face with one hand and let out a moan, her other hand sliding between your bodies to reach your cock and gently rub it. Similarly, you caressed her cheekbone with your thumb for a few seconds, and then moved that hand down her torso until you reached between her legs. There you began to rub with your fingers, in slow circles that made her sigh against your lips.
"Do you want me to put my fingers inside or would you prefer me to rub you?" you asked.
"Keep rubbing," she replied with a gasp, moving your hand back to your cock, which was completely hard again. "I want my pussy to be as tight as possible when you put this inside me."
You smiled, pulled away from her lips, and kissed the side of her face.
"That's thoughtful of you," you murmured, rubbing her clit as she'd asked, with your index and middle fingers. "Are you always this sweet?"
"I try to be," Eunbi gasped, grabbing the back of your neck as you lowered yourself to her breasts. "It's not too hard when I come across sweethearts like you."
You chuckled, adjusting your position beside her to get lower.
"You flatter me, darling. I do my best."
With that, you took one of Eunbi's breasts into your mouth and sucked gently, while your fingers stimulated her clit a little faster. Eunbi kept both hands on the back of your neck, her nails lightly digging in. Her moans and breathing quickly became more frantic, until, when you least expected it, she came a second time.
Eunbi cried out in pleasure and hugged your head, pressing it against her breasts and muffling you against them. Your wrist movements slowed down, but now you covered more vertical space with your fingers, moving them up and down and in circles between her slippery folds.
After a few seconds of orgasm, Eunbi tapped your head a couple of times and made you look up.
"Your cock..." she gasped. "Put it in my mouth, will you?"
Hurriedly and without hesitation, you knelt down and positioned yourself next to her face, your cock in your hand. Eunbi then propped herself up on one elbow, opened her mouth, and caught your tip between her lips to suck it. You let out a soft moan. She stayed there for a few seconds, then pulled you out of her mouth to lick the underside of your shaft and kiss it. Then she took you back in, this time pushing her lips further.
Eunbi seemed confident in what she was doing, but even so, every few seconds, she looked up to analyze your reactions. As she might expect, you were loving it, so your face couldn't help but show pleasure. She was gentle with her movements, careful, with perfect use of her tongue and a cute way of moaning with each pump of her head.
She could only take half your length, but with just that, she was able to make you clench your toes.
"Do you like it like this?" she asked, looking at you as she kissed around your tip. "I'm sorry if it's slower than you're used to..."
"Not at all," you shook your head, and cradled her chin with your thumb and forefinger. "It's perfect."
Eunbi's lips curved slightly.
"Really?"
"Really," you nodded.
"Good to know."
Eunbi took you back into her mouth, her fingers firmly around your base as she salivated and sucked on half of your shaft. You stroked her hair with one hand, and with the other, you played with her breasts. A minute later, Eunbi pulled you out of her mouth and looked at your right hand.
"Want to use them?"
"Hm?"
"My breasts," she said. "Want to fuck them? I could use a... skin scrub."
You blinked and opened your mouth to say something, but only pursed your lips.
"Fuck, of course," you finally said.
"There's… uhm, lube over there," Eunbi pointed to her nightstand, then blushed.
You chuckled and went where she indicated, opened the drawer, and took out a small bottle of purple lube.
"You massage yourself, by any chance?"
Eunbi's cheeks flushed. She covered her face with her hands.
"Oh, so embarrassing!" she said. "Sometimes it comes in handy, that's all."
"Especially right now," you smiled.
Eunbi lowered her hands from her face as you straddled her torso. Your eyes met. Eunbi's beautiful, sparkling eyes gazed at you expectantly as you opened the dispenser of the small bottle.
"You don't mind getting the sheets dirty, do you?"
"The sheets can be washed. It doesn't matter."
"Well, then."
Eunbi gasped as you turned the bottle upside down and poured the clear, slightly oily liquid over her breasts. You weren't going to skimp, so you didn't stop until both mounds were dripping in all directions. Eunbi just watched, her mouth slightly open.
"Too much?" you asked, spreading the lubricant over her perfect melons.
"Not at all, darling," Eunbi shook her head, giving you a kind smile. "They're for you. Have fun."
You smiled as you lubricated your cock and positioned it between her breasts.
"It still seems incredible to me that you're the one paying me, you know?"
"I know," Eunbi cupped her breasts and squeezed them together, trapping your cock between them. You immediately gasped. "Just be a good boy and make it worth it for me. It’s the only payment I’ll accept on your part."
Eunbi's breasts felt so heavenly and amazing around your shaft that you couldn't even formulate a response in your head. Your only instinct, the most basic and carnal, was to start slowly moving your hips back and forth, making your cock slide in and out between a pair of soft, slick breasts.
"Oh my god," you moaned, letting your head fall back.
"I know, it feels so good, doesn't it?" Eunbi murmured, holding her breasts firmly. They were so big they practically swallowed your cock from above.
"So good I want to cry," you gasped.
Eunbi laughed.
"You can go faster if you want, but be careful, okay?"
It was a suggestion you didn't have to think twice about. You quickly picked up the pace, filling the bedroom with wet sounds. Your cock slid in smoothly as you pounded Eunbi's perfect tits with rapid thrusts of your hips. Eunbi didn't bother to hide her satisfied expression, fueled by the way you frowned with pleasure and your breath quickened.
"You like my tits, sweetheart?" she purred softly, looking at you intently. "I bet you want to cover them with your cum so bad."
You could only manage a desperate nod, mesmerized by the overwhelming sensation of watching your cock slide between that delicious sandwich of soft flesh. The blood was already racing through your body, and your breath was coming in ragged gasps the closer you got to your climax. Eunbi looked into your eyes, and as if she knew what was about to happen, she stuck her tongue out as far as she could.
"You love cum, don't you?" you managed to ask. "I can see it in your eyes. You're a little… cum slut. The most adorable one I've ever met, I must say."
Eunbi didn't deny it, she simply raised her eyebrows and took a deeper breath. You might have hit the nail on the head.
"You're the one who wants me to cum all over your tits and your pretty face, aren't you?" you inquired, and you took her hands from her breasts to squeeze them around your cock yourself. "You want it so bad."
Eunbi gasped and nodded quickly, her tongue still lolling out. Behind you, you felt her hips twist.
Then your climax hit you.
You groaned loudly, squeezing Eunbi's breasts tightly between your fingers. The first spurts of your load shot directly onto her face, right between her eyebrows and also onto her tongue, two streaks that began to trickle down her skin. Then you quickly pulled your cock out from between her breasts, letting the rest of your cum drip onto them.
Eunbi closed her mouth and could finally moan, licking the cum from her lips. She looked down at her breasts covered in white, viscous fluid and stared at you with glazed eyes.
"You can keep going, right?" she asked. "I want you to do the same... inside me."
You were still sensitive, and you were sure it was going to hurt at first, but you didn't dare say no to those puppy-dog eyes.
"You want it, you got it, darling," you nodded.
You climbed off her chest and quickly knelt between her legs, which you grasped behind her knees and spread wide while she scooped the semen off her face with her fingers and ate it. Eunbi followed your cock with her eyes as you took hold of it and, still slick with lube and semen, guided it inside her.
Eunbi pursed her lips to stifle a squeal as your tip was swallowed by her folds and settled within her tight walls, but she immediately looked at you with concern when you winced in pain.
"U-uh, ah, are you okay?!" she asked, alarmed.
"Yes, yes," you shook your head, raising your hand. "It's nothing. It'll pass in a moment."
Eunbi let out another soft moan as you pushed deeper, but she was still visibly worried about you.
"If it hurts too much, I order you to stop immediately," she said. "I mean it."
"You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart," you replied, already halfway inside her tight pussy. "It's hurting less and less."
That wasn't entirely true; it usually took a couple of minutes for the feeling to subside down there after you came. And while it was true that it didn't hurt as much as it might other times, you still had to make an effort not to wince and worry her.
When you had every inch of your cock inside her, eliciting a moan and making her arch her back, you gasped, sharing the same pleasure as her, with a lingering sharp pain near your tip. You placed your hands on Eunbi's thighs and pressed them against her body, without using excessive force, and began to slowly pump your hips back and forth.
It was a good decision not to have put your fingers inside her minutes earlier, because now your cock was being tightly embraced by soft, wet walls. It was obvious that Eunbi wasn't a virgin, but if you hadn't deduced that she had ample prior experience, you would have thought the exact opposite, given how tight she was.
The pain soon subsided, allowing you to focus solely on how good it felt to slowly fuck Eunbi's pussy. At the same time, you admired her beautiful face contorting with pleasure each time you touched her cervix with the tip of your cock, the same face you leaned down to kiss seconds later, now leaning towards her with your hands pressed against the mattress.
Eunbi sought your lips as you kissed her jaw and part of her neck, moaning against them when you kissed them. She wrapped her arms around your head and hugged you, her cum and lube covered breasts now pressed against your chest.
"Oh god..." she moaned against your lips. "You're so big, darling."
"And you're so tight," you replied, moving your hips a little faster. "And..." you looked into her eyes, very closely. "Damn, so beautiful."
Eunbi let out a shy giggle, a smile that quickly faded and transformed back into a slightly open mouth that gasped and released sweet moans. Her cheeks were flushed.
"You're cute too," she managed to reply after a while. "I appreciate you being so... mmmgh, so kind to me. Please keep kissing me, I love it."
You immediately crashed your lips against hers, your heavy breaths mingling in the middle of a slow, passionate kiss. Eunbi caressed your hair with both hands, her fingers tracing small circles between strands, sending shivers all over your body.
"Do you like it, baby?" you asked against her lips, taking your entire cock in and out of her with deep thrusts.
"I love it," she replied with a soft whimper, kissing you again and again. "I love it!"
"Who is such a cute and good girl?"
"M-me?"
"Oh yeah," you nodded, placing kisses on her cheek and near her pretty nose. "You're the cutest and best girl."
Eunbi let out a squeal from deep within her chest, gripped your head tightly, and exploded around your cock. Her legs immediately closed around your torso, and you felt them tremble along with the rest of her body. Her pussy, meanwhile, throbbed and tightened around your cock, crushing it and making you groan.
"Keep going, please," Eunbi begged with a soft sigh. "Don't stop until you put that hot seed inside me."
Following Eunbi's commands to the letter, you freed yourself from her legs and held them wide open as you straightened your back. You continued moving your hips, now at a faster pace that she could also enjoy, similar to when you fucked her tits. Eunbi let her arms fall to her sides, crumpling the sheets beneath her fingers, her tits bouncing with your thrusts.
After a few seconds, you brought Eunbi's legs together and held her heels, placing them both on your right shoulder, then wrapped your arms around her thighs. This allowed your thrusts to penetrate deeper, hitting Eunbi's pussy in a way that made her eyes roll back. She came again almost instantly.
As Eunbi writhed with pleasure and her legs trembled, you pulled out of her and lay down beside her on her left.
"On your side, sweetie," you said.
Eunbi complied, and still trembling, lay on her side with her back to you. She pushed her ass towards you, lifted her head so you could place your arm underneath, and as she lay back down, turned her head to meet your lips. Your hand slid down to cup one of her breasts, and with the other, you took hold of your cock and guided it back inside her.
Throughout that time, as you fucked her with a careful blend of tenderness and carnal desire, you maintained intense physical and visual contact. You kept kissing her all over, and your free hand roamed across her soft skin with your fingertips until you rested it on her waist.
Eunbi moaned desperately against your lips each time she kissed you, completely driven wild with pleasure by every thrust and every gentle caress. After a couple of minutes, Eunbi broke the kiss and looked into your eyes. Once again, you were mesmerized by their beauty, filled with lust and desire.
"Fuck... you're amazing, you know that?" you said.
The words tumbled out of your mouth without thinking, but Eunbi, far from laughing and blushing again, moaned louder and let her head fall onto your arm, burying her face in it as she came again.
Eunbi whimpered against your arm, kissing the lower part of your bicep. She pushed her ass against you, blocking your movement. Her whole inner body was a trembling tangle of spasms. You held her tightly and buried your face in her neck. You mirrored her affectionate treatment, with small, tender kisses that made her sigh.
When her orgasm subsided, Eunbi lifted her head slightly to turn it and kiss you, cupping your face in a gentle hand.
"Do you want me to finish the job for you, darling?" she asked, stroking your cheek with her thumb.
"And how will you do that?"
"I can ride you," her eyes scanned every detail of your face. "I don't mind being on top if it's to please you."
You smiled and kissed her a little more.
"When I tell you you're amazing, I mean it, just so you know."
This time, Eunbi did smile and let her cheeks flush. She giggled.
"On your back, please."
You pulled out of her and lay on your back. Eunbi quickly straddled you, took your cock in one hand, and impaled herself on it in one swift motion. You groaned, admiring how beautiful she and her breasts looked on top of you, and gazed into her eyes, hands on her waist.
"Give me that seed, darling," she whispered, beginning to move her hips up and down at her own pace, adjusted to give you all the pleasure you needed. Her breasts bounced effortlessly, in a hypnotic scene that got you revved up to full power and your blood pumping. "All inside me. Fill me up."
Eunbi dropped onto you, cradled your face with both hands, and kissed you, her breasts pressed against your chest, and her nipples brushing against your skin as she swayed her hips. You moaned against her lips, feeling yourself gradually getting closer to exploding. The long-awaited moment for both of you didn't take long to arrive.
You wrapped your arms around Eunbi's small body and hugged her tightly, your lips still pressed against hers. Your ragged breaths mingled, but you were the only one moaning. Then, a couple of hip movements later, you groaned and exploded inside her.
"Mmmgh yes sweetie!" Eunbi moaned against your lips, feeling every spurt of cum you shot inside her. "Fill me all the way with that delicious load, fuck!"
You were sure it was the first time you'd heard her swear, but you were so focused on not melting from pleasure that you overlooked it at the time.
Your hands slid down to her ass and squeezed it hard, making it move up and down on your cock as you emptied yourself inside her. Eunbi peppered your face with kisses. She also brushed the sweaty hair from your forehead and began to stroke your hair. Basically, she gave you the royal treatment until your climax subsided.
"Are you okay?" she asked after a while. Her voice was barely audible.
"Fuck, yeah," you nodded, your gaze lost on the ceiling, one arm around her waist. Your chest rose and fell erratically. You were still balls deep inside her, but you could feel your cum trickling down the folds of Eunbi's pussy and down the sides of your shaft. As the seconds passed, your dick started to go soft and slip out of her. "Perfect."
"Now your tank's really empty, huh?" Eunbi giggled, noticing your load escaping from inside her.
You chuckled and let out a heavy sigh.
"Yeah," you replied. "Fully empty."
Eunbi paused and looked down.
"So..." she traced patterns on your shoulder with her fingernail, then looked you in the eyes. "The session's over?"
"Looks like it."
"Don't you… want to stay a little longer?" Eunbi asked. "It's almost dinner time. Um... I'll pay you extra, if necessary?"
You laughed, and in a burst of affection, cupped her face in your hands and kissed her on the lips. It was a much more affectionate gesture than you'd ever made with any of your other clients. Even with her, you hesitated a little, thinking she might draw a line since the session was over, but Eunbi just prolonged the kiss a little longer until you pulled away.
"You don't have to pay me anything extra," you said. "I'd be happy to stay for dinner."
Eunbi's eyes lit up with excitement. Damn, how much affection had this woman been lacking in her life? It looked like she'd been through a lot of shitty relationships. Poor thing. You weren't staying for dinner out of pity, though. You simply thought it was sweet to make her happy. Besides, the look she gave you, all by itself, made it worth it.
"Really?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm in no hurry," you replied, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Do you want us to order something or...?"
"I'll make you food," she replied instantly.
"Oh," you blinked a couple of times, unable to help but smile as well. "Yeah, that would be nice too."
"Cool!"
Eunbi got off you and sat on the right edge of the bed, adjusting her hair and wiping some of the sweat from her body with her hands. You made a move to sit up, but Eunbi quickly put her hand out in front of you.
"No," she shook her head. "You stay there, darling. You deserve to rest."
"But... I want to clean myself," you pointed to the mess of cum in your pubic area.
"I'll get you the toilet paper, silly. Just make me happy and rest, okay?"
You stared at her for a couple of seconds. Seriously, how was this woman not married to a man as wonderful as she was? It felt like such a waste.
"Alright," you finally conceded. "You win".
Eunbi smiled, stood up, and started walking towards the bedroom bathroom.
"Um, Ms. Kwon?" you called out to her. Eunbi stopped with her hand on the bathroom doorknob. "I mean, Eunbi."
"Yes?"
"Thank you, really. I do feel very tired, and... all of this is just what I needed."
Eunbi giggled.
"See? I was right to leave you there, after all. My instincts never fail."
That said, Eunbi opened the bathroom door, grabbed the toilet paper roll, and came back to give it to you.
"I'll bring you your phone and clothes in a minute," she said, putting on clean underwear.
"Sounds good," you nodded gratefully, wiping yourself with the toilet paper.
Eunbi finished getting dressed in comfortable, loose clothing and left the bedroom, only to return a little later with your things, leave again, and this time not come back.
After getting dressed, just in your t-shirt and boxers, you stayed in bed as Eunbi had asked. The first thing you did was text Heejin to tell her how everything had gone, with very brief details that you would expand on when you got home. Sunmi also heard from you; you let her know that everything had gone perfectly and that everything was done. Then, by mistake, you opened Kazuha's chat and found that she had kept her word and sent you the video of her—completely naked—rubbing herself against the pillow where you had slept. You quickly had to move on to something else so you wouldn't get horny again.
Minutes later, the smell of food began to waft into the bedroom. Whatever Eunbi was making out there, it smelled delicious. Not long after, you identified the smell of beef, with a hint of sweet garlic perhaps? Yes, it was definitely garlic. Your stomach immediately rumbled, even though you weren't that hungry.
About half an hour later, the bedroom door opened. Eunbi arrived with a bed tray on which she carried two plates of steaming food and a glass of what looked like pear juice.
"Dinner is ready!" she announced, her face full of excitement.
You sat up and let her place the tray on your lap. What she had prepared was bulgogi, a typical dish with minced and marinated beef, with grated pear and oil, which smelled amazing. Next to it, on the other plate, was a side of kimchi and fried rice. Between the two dishes were a pair of metal chopsticks.
"Woah," you said, genuinely impressed by how much effort she had put into making it look delicious. "It looks amazing. Thank you."
"Please try it," Eunbi put her hands on her stomach, fiddling with her fingers.
You picked up the chopsticks, took a piece of beef, blew on the steam so you wouldn't burn your tongue, and brought it to your mouth. You chewed a couple of times and...
Sweet Jesus, it was so delicious you wanted to get up and hug her with all your might.
The beef was tender and juicy, and then you tasted the garlic in it, with a hint of sugar. The oil was definitely sesame oil. Immediately, without even swallowing the first bite, you took more. This was food made with love; it hit all the right spots.
Eunbi giggled.
"So..." she leaned forward and looked at you with her head tilted. "I guess you liked it?"
You were inhaling and exhaling deeply, so moved by the delicious food that it was hard to snap out of your reverie.
"It's probably the best thing I've ever eaten," you said with complete honesty, turning to meet her gaze.
Eunbi smiled from ear to ear.
"That's good. I'll go get my tray so I can eat with you, okay?"
"Of course."
Eunbi left the bedroom, leaving you to savor a little more of the food until she returned with her own tray and sat on the bed to eat with you. She had a television in there, which she had turned on so you could spend the time watching something you both liked. The choice was National Geographic, as they were showing a very interesting documentary. You could have left immediately after finishing your meal, but you decided to stay with her until the end of the documentary, which finished about an hour and a half later.
"Alright, I really have to go now, sweetie," you said, getting out of bed to put on your pants.
"Oh, sure, I understand," Eunbi replied, also standing up.
After you put on the rest of your clothes, Eunbi accompanied you outside so you could put on your shoes and walk to the door. She stopped in front of you to open the door, but first she turned to face you.
"Uh, well, this is embarrassing but..." Eunbi's cheeks flushed. "Can I ask for your phone number?"
You chuckled.
"Sure, why not?"
You paused for a moment so she could add your contact, and then she opened the door.
"I deposited a little extra along with the payment for the session, is that okay?"
You clicked your tongue.
"Eunbi-yah, that really wasn't necessary..."
"Shh," Eunbi put a finger to your lips. "You were wonderful tonight."
"All I did was let myself be taken care of."
"Exactly what I wanted," she replied. "And on top of all that, you were a sweetheart in bed. You exceeded my expectations, you know?"
"I'm flattered to hear that," you smiled. "You were just as wonderful. And gorgeous, especially. But the extra wasn't necessary."
"Well, too bad, because I already did it."
You sighed and stepped out of the apartment, then turned to look at her.
"Seriously, I really appreciate it," you reiterated, and gave her a respectful bow. "You gave me a wonderful night."
Eunbi leaned her shoulder against the doorframe and looked at you with a small smile and her head tilted, her hands behind her back. If she had asked you nicely, with that pretty face, you would have even stayed a couple more hours.
"And you me, darling," she replied. "Oh, and I also called you a taxi, so you'd better go wait for it."
You couldn't help but laugh and pull her into a warm hug. Eunbi snuggled against you happily, burying her face in your chest.
"Another day I'll ask you why no man is lucky enough to marry you, by the way," you said, still holding her. "I've been wondering about it all night."
Eunbi was silent for a second and then sighed.
"It's a long story," she said, pulling away from you to look into your eyes. "And not a very pleasant one."
"I'm sure I'll be happy to lend you my ears."
Eunbi let out a little giggle and cupped your face with one hand before standing on tiptoe and giving you a kiss on the cheek.
"Of course you will. Come on, go now, darling."
"Take care, okay?" You took a few steps back and started walking down the hallway. "Goodbye, good night!"
"Good night, dear," Eunbi waved goodbye to you.
You looked into Eunbi's eyes for a moment longer, smiled at her, and turned your back to head to the elevator.
Downstairs, already on the street and while waiting for the taxi, you decided to open the bank app—the bank where Sunmi had opened an account especially for receiving those kinds of payments—to see how much she had paid you. What you saw left you stunned.
150 million won. Around $100,000.
Damn woman, you thought, smiling to yourself on the cold street and shaking your head.
A couple of minutes later, your taxi arrived, the driver confirming that you were the one waiting for him. He then let you get into the passenger seat.
"Where to, sir?" the driver asked.
"Are there any car dealerships open at this hour?"
"I remember seeing a BMW on my way here."
"Right there, then."
The driver started driving down the street, soon leaving Eunbi's building complex behind. Midway there, while you were pondering how much you were willing to spend on a car, your phone started ringing. It was your boss.
"Hello?" you said, answering the call.
"Where are you right now?" Sunmi asked from the other end of the line.
"On my way to a car dealership, why?"
"Okay, I'll give you the details when you get here, but I need you to be free tomorrow from 6 PM onwards."
"And that's because...?" You looked out the window. The highway streetlights illuminated your face as you passed them.
"We're going to a dinner. An important dinner. Big shots, kid."
"And what do I have to do with any of that?"
"I'm sure the organizer will also bring her escort, and..." Sunmi did a long pause. "I want you to become friends with her."
What are Bae's charming points? What lead you to write her as your comeback piece? Plus, do you think she's an anal gal (loves it in the butt)?
Great to have you back! :D
I'm happy to be back :)
Back to your questions, I honestly don't know what led me to write Bae for my comeback fic, it sorta just happened, almost in a BFH type way. She does have that dual personality type charm where she acts all goofy and cute, but then be serious and sexy at times, so that's a huge charming point for her.
It's hard to say if she's an anal gal, she has a cute butt tho.