Tags : Cheating, Stealing someones Boyfriend, Fake Friend, Bathroom Sex, Over The Top Moaning, Facial, Cum Drinking, Obsession, Obsessive Love, Jealousy, Hickeys, Marking, Manipulation, Manipulative Girl, Mating, Rich Girl, Drama
Words : 9,712 Words
The café smelled like roasted espresso beans and the faint vanilla of Yujin’s perfume. She sat across from you, her fingers wrapped around a ceramic mug, steam curling upward in lazy spirals. Her eyes—god, those eyes—crescented into half-moons as she laughed at something you’d said, something stupid about the barista’s mustache, and you felt that familiar warmth bloom in your chest. The one that made you forget words. The one that made you stupid.
“You’re staring again,” she said, tucking a strand of caramel-brown hair behind her ear.
“Can’t help it.”
“Creep.” But she smiled when she said it. She always smiled when she said it.
Two months. Two months of this—of Sunday morning café dates, of her head on your shoulder during late-night bus rides, of her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your palm while she talked about her art history classes. Yujin was the kind of beautiful that didn’t announce itself. It crept up on you. The way her nose crinkled when she concentrated. The way she bit her lower lip when she was nervous. The way she said your name like it was a secret only she knew.
And then there was Wonyoung.
Wonyoung, who had been Yujin’s best friend since middle school. Wonyoung, who had stared at you a beat too long the first time Yujin introduced you three weeks ago. Wonyoung, who kept finding excuses to touch your arm, your shoulder, your back. Who texted you at odd hours with questions that felt like traps. Who looked at you like you were a puzzle she was itching to solve.
You’d tried to ignore it. Told yourself you were being paranoid. But last Thursday, at Yujin’s apartment, Wonyoung had “accidentally” walked in on you changing in the bathroom—door locked, she’d claimed it must be broken—and instead of apologizing and backing out, she’d stood there. Just for a heartbeat. Just long enough for her gaze to drag down your chest before she laughed and closed the door.
You hadn’t told Yujin. What were you supposed to say? Your best friend is being weird and I don’t know why. It sounded pathetic. Paranoid.
But today. Today you’d decided.
“Yujin,” you started, and your voice came out rougher than you intended. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Her smile faltered. “That sounds serious.”
“It’s about Wonyoung.”
The smile didn’t just falter—it dropped. “What about her?”
You leaned forward, elbows on the table. The wood was sticky with old varnish. “She’s been… I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy. She’s been acting weird around me. Getting too close. Touching me. Saying things that feel… off.”
Yujin’s brow furrowed. “Wonyoung? No, she’s just friendly. She’s always been like that.”
“Friendly is one thing. This is different.” You reached across the table, your fingers brushing her knuckles. “I think she’s trying to—I don’t know—cause problems. Between us.”
“That’s insane.” But there was a crack in her voice. A hairline fracture.
“Is it? She walked in on me in the bathroom last week. The door was locked, Yujin. She unlocked it somehow. And she just stood there.”
Yujin pulled her hand back. Her jaw tightened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to think—”
“Hey, lovebirds!”
The voice cut through the café like a scalpel. Bright. Sharp. Deliberately cheerful.
Wonyoung.
She was weaving between tables, her pleated skirt swishing against her thighs, a cardigan draped over her shoulders like she’d stepped out of a luxury ad. Her hair—black, glossy, falling in sheets past her shoulders—caught the light. She looked like a painting. The kind that made you uncomfortable and you couldn’t explain why.
“Yujin told me you guys were here,” Wonyoung said, sliding into the booth next to Yujin without asking. “Hope you don’t mind. I was in the neighborhood and I’m starving.”
Yujin shot you a look—apologetic, confused, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface. “I texted her earlier. Before we talked. I forgot.”
Of course she had. Of course.
Wonyoung picked up a menu, her eyes flicking to you over the laminated edge. “You look tense, Y/N. Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
“You sure? You’ve got that little vein thingy.” She pointed at her own temple. “Right here. Pops out when you’re stressed.”
“I’m fine.”
She shrugged, a tiny smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “If you say so.”
The next twenty minutes were a slow-motion disaster. Wonyoung dominated the conversation, her laughter too loud, her anecdotes too long, her hand landing on your forearm every time she made a point. Yujin grew quieter. You could see it happening—the way she retreated into herself, the way her eyes darted between you and Wonyoung, the way her fingers started picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.
You needed to get out. Just for a minute. Just to breathe.
“Bathroom,” you muttered, sliding out of the booth.
The men’s room was cramped and smelled like industrial cleaner and stale piss. You gripped the sink, stared at yourself in the scratched mirror. Your reflection looked haggard. Pale. The vein on your temple was, in fact, popping out.
You splashed water on your face. Counted to ten. Told yourself everything would be fine. You’d talk to Yujin later. Alone. You’d make her understand.
When you walked back to the table, everything had shifted.
Yujin was rigid. Her knuckles white around her mug. Her eyes—those eyes that had crescented into half-moons twenty minutes ago—were wet. Red-rimmed. Fixed on you with something that looked like fury.
“Yujin? What’s—”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. Splintered. “Don’t you dare.”
Wonyoung sat beside her, one hand on Yujin’s shoulder. Her face was a mask of pained innocence. Her lower lip trembled. She looked like she might cry.
“What’s going on?” Your stomach dropped. Plummeted. Somewhere in the vicinity of your shoes.
“She told me.” Yujin’s voice was barely a whisper. “She told me what you did.”
“What I did? I didn’t do anything!”
“You tried to kiss her.” Yujin’s hands were shaking now. “At my apartment. Last week. When I went to get takeout. You tried to kiss my best friend.”
The words didn’t make sense. They bounced off your brain, refused to land. “I—what? No. No, that’s not—Wonyoung, what the fuck are you talking about?”
Wonyoung flinched. Flinched, like you’d raised a hand to her. “He cornered me in the kitchen,” she said, her voice small. Fragile. “He said… he said you wouldn’t mind. That you’d never know.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to hurt you, Yujin. But I couldn’t keep lying.”
“She’s lying!” Your voice came out louder than you meant. Heads turned. “Yujin, she’s fucking lying. I would never—I didn’t—”
“Then why did she say it?” Yujin was standing now. Her purse clutched to her chest like a shield. “Why would my best friend since middle school make up something like that?”
“Because she’s trying to ruin us! That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier! She’s been—”
Splash.
Ice water. Right in your face. Right in your eyes, your nose, your open mouth.
Yujin set the empty glass down on the table. Her hand was steady. Her eyes were not.
“You’re an awful guy,” she said. Quiet. Final. Like closing a book.
“Yujin, please—”
But she was already walking. Already halfway to the door. Already gone.
The café was silent. Staring. The barista’s mustache twitched. Someone’s spoon clinked against a saucer.
And Wonyoung—
Wonyoung was smiling.
Not the pained, innocent mask from a moment ago. Something else entirely. Something that made your blood go cold and hot at the same time.
She waited until the café door swung shut behind Yujin. Waited until the murmurs of other customers resumed, until the attention shifted away from your dripping face and your shaking hands and your eyes that were—god, were you crying? You were crying. When had you started crying?
“Oh, sweetheart.” Wonyoung’s voice had changed. Dropped. The innocence sloughed off like a snake shedding skin. “You really thought you could warn her? Thought she’d pick you over me?”
You couldn’t speak. Your throat had closed up. Your chest was a clenched fist.
She stood. Slow. Deliberate. Her heels clicked against the tile as she rounded the table. Click. Click. Click. Each step a punctuation mark.
Her fingers found your chin. Tilted your face up. Your cheeks were still wet—from the water, from the tears, from the absolute wreckage of the last three minutes.
“That girl,” Wonyoung murmured, her thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, “is so fucking dumb. Not even wanting to hear the guy who she said was the man of her life.” She cupped your face now. Both hands. Her palms warm against your jaw. “But I’m not Yujin, Y/N.”
She leaned closer. Her breath ghosted over your lips. Vanilla. The same perfume as Yujin. She must have borrowed it. Or stolen it. Or—
“I know what I want,” she whispered. “And I know how to get it.”
Your brain was screaming. Sirens. Red flags. Every instinct telling you to push her away, to run after Yujin, to fix this, fix this, FIX THIS—
But your body wasn’t moving.
Wonyoung’s smile widened. “There we go. That’s better. I’ve been waiting weeks for you to look at me like this.”
“Like what?” The words scraped out of you. Raw.
“Like you’re terrified.” She pressed her thumb against your lower lip. “And a little bit turned on.”
“I’m not—”
“Shh.” She pulled you up. Up, out of the booth, your legs unsteady beneath you. “We’re going to the bathroom.”
“What? No—”
“It wasn’t a question.”
She dragged you. Actually dragged you—her grip surprisingly strong on your wrist, her stride confident, weaving past tables and chairs and the mustachioed barista who suddenly found the pastry case fascinating. The women’s bathroom door swung open and she shoved you inside and locked it behind her.
The fluorescent light was harsh. Humming. The tile was pink—a weird, outdated pink that reminded you of your grandmother’s bathroom. There was a potted plant in the corner that looked like it had been dead for months.
And Wonyoung was pressing you against the sink.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Her hands were on your chest now. Palms flat. Fingers splayed. “Since the first time Yujin brought you to game night. You were wearing that stupid flannel. You made some dumb joke about Monopoly. And I thought— that one. I want that one. ”
“Wonyoung, this is—”
“What? Wrong?” She laughed. It was a bright, sharp sound. Genuinely amused. “Yujin thinks you tried to kiss me. She’s probably crying in a taxi right now. There’s nothing left to save, baby boy.”
Baby boy.
The word hit you somewhere low. Somewhere you didn’t want to acknowledge.
Her fingers found the hem of your shirt. Tugged. “Let’s see what you’ve been hiding under all these layers.”
“Wonyoung, stop—”
Rrrrrip.
The sound was obscene in the small bathroom. Cotton tearing. Threads snapping. Your shirt—your favorite shirt, the one Yujin had bought you for your birthday—hung in tatters from your shoulders.
Wonyoung’s eyes went dark. Hungry. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip.
“There it is,” she breathed. Her fingernails traced down your chest. Light. Feather-light. Leaving trails of heat in their wake. “Yujin never mentioned you had abs. Selfish girl. Keeping this all to herself.”
“She’s not selfish, she’s—”
“She’s gone.” Wonyoung’s voice hardened. “She’s gone and I’m here and I’m going to give you something she never could.”
Your back hit the mirror. Cold glass against your shoulder blades. Wonyoung’s hands were everywhere—your chest, your stomach, the waistband of your jeans. Her mouth found your neck and she bit down.
Hard.
You gasped. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t not pain. It was something in between, something electric that shot down your spine and made your fingers curl against the edge of the sink.
“Mmm,” she hummed against your skin. “You taste better than I imagined.”
“You imagined—?”
“Oh, baby boy.” She pulled back just enough to look at you. Her lipstick was smeared. Her pupils were blown wide. “I’ve imagined everything.”
Her mouth crashed into yours.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was an invasion. Her tongue pushing past your lips, her teeth catching your lower lip, her hands fisting in what remained of your shirt. She kissed like she was trying to consume you. Devour you. Leave nothing behind.
And your body—traitor, traitor —responded.
Your hands found her waist. Her hips. The curve of her ass through that stupid pleated skirt. You didn’t remember deciding to touch her. You were just touching her, your fingers digging into the soft fabric, pulling her closer.
She moaned into your mouth. The sound vibrated through your teeth. “Mmmnpfh—yes, yes, that’s it. Touch me.”
Her skirt rode up. Your hands slid under. Her skin was hot. Burning. You felt the lace edge of her panties, the swell of her ass, the way she ground herself against your thigh.
“You’ve been so good,” she panted, breaking the kiss. A string of saliva connected your lips before snapping. “So loyal. So devoted. And she threw you away in two seconds flat. Didn’t even let you explain.”
“She was upset—”
“She was stupid.” Wonyoung’s hand dropped to your belt. Unbuckled it. Metal clinking. Leather sliding. “And I’m not. I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know exactly what I want.”
Your jeans hit the floor.
“Time,” she whispered, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your boxers, “for me to steal your kiss.”
She pulled them down.
“And your virginity.”
Her smile was a knife.
“Baby boy.”
Your cock sprang free, already half-hard, already betraying you in the most fundamental way possible. The cool bathroom air hit sensitive skin and you shivered.
Wonyoung looked down.
And her composure cracked.
“Oh,” she breathed. Just that. One syllable. Reverent. “Oh, you’ve been holding out on me.”
She dropped to her knees.
The pink tile must have been cold against her bare legs. She didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were level with your cock, her breath coming in little puffs that ghosted over the tip. Making it twitch. Making it ache.
“Look at this,” she murmured. Her index finger traced a vein along the underside. Feather-light. Barely there. “Yujin never mentioned you were packing, either. What a waste. What an absolute waste of a perfectly good cock.”
“Wonyoung, I don’t think we should—”
“Shut up.”
Not cruel. Just matter-of-fact. Like she was telling you the weather.
“You can pretend you don’t want this,” she said, her fingers wrapping around the base. Testing the weight. Her thumb circling the head. “You can pretend you’re a good boyfriend. But your cock doesn’t lie, baby boy. Your cock is very, very honest.”
She wasn’t wrong.
You were fully hard now. Throbbing. The tip flushed and slick with a bead of pre-cum that Wonyoung studied with clinical interest before smearing it with her thumb.
“I’m going to suck your cock now,” she announced, like she was reciting a grocery list. “And you’re going to watch. You’re going to watch me choke on it. And you’re going to think about how Yujin never did this for you. How she never got on her knees in a public bathroom and worshipped you like you deserved.”
“She—we hadn’t—”
“You hadn’t fucked yet?” Wonyoung’s eyes widened with genuine delight. “Oh, that’s precious. That’s absolutely precious. All this time, and she never once wrapped her pretty little lips around this gorgeous cock?”
Her tongue darted out. Licked a stripe up the underside. From base to tip.
Your hips bucked. Involuntary. Completely beyond your control.
“Slllrk.” The sound was wet. Obscene. She lapped at the head like it was a melting ice cream cone. “Mmm. Salty. I like it.”
And then she took you into her mouth.
Not gradual. Not tentative. She swallowed you whole, her throat opening up, her nose pressing against your pubic bone, her gag reflex apparently nonexistent.
“Glrk—mmmm—glrk—”
The sounds were filthy. Wet. Choking. Her throat constricted around your cock, muscles rippling, and you had to brace yourself against the mirror to keep from collapsing.
Her head started to move. Back. Forth. Her tongue working the underside, her cheeks hollowing, her lipstick smearing across your shaft in streaks of red.
“Fuck,” you breathed. The word escaped before you could stop it. “Fuck, Wonyoung—”
She pulled off with a wet pop. A rope of saliva connected her lips to your cock. “There you go. There’s the reaction I wanted.” Her hand replaced her mouth, stroking fast and slick and tight. “Say my name again.”
“Wonyoung—”
“Again.”
“Wonyoung—”
“Louder.”
“WONYOUNG.”
The name echoed off the pink tile. Bounced off the dead plant. Ricocheted through your skull.
She smiled. “Good boy.”
And swallowed you down again.
This time was different. Faster. Desperate. She sucked like she was trying to pull something out of you, her head bobbing furiously, her saliva dripping down your balls, her fingernails digging into your thighs. The sounds— glrk, slosh, splrt, glrk —filled the bathroom like a pornographic symphony.
Your hand found her hair. Tangled in the black sheets of it. You didn’t mean to pull. You pulled anyway.
She moaned around your cock. Vibrations shot through your shaft and up your spine and into the base of your skull.
“I’m—Wonyoung, I’m close—”
She pulled off immediately. “Not yet.”
“What?”
“I said not yet.” She stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lipstick was destroyed. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were wild. “You don’t get to cum until I’m wrapped around your cock. Until I feel you pulse inside me. Until I’ve marked you so thoroughly that Yujin can smell me on you from across the room.”
The mention of Yujin’s name was like ice water. For a moment—just a moment—clarity cut through the fog.
“This is wrong,” you said. “She’s your best friend.”
“She was my best friend.” Wonyoung’s hands were at her waist now. Unzipping her skirt. Letting it pool at her feet. “Past tense. The moment she chose to believe me over you—the moment she walked out that door—our friendship ended. And something else began.”
Her panties followed. Black lace. Drenched at the center. She stepped out of them, kicked them aside.
“Now.” She grabbed your cock. Squeezed. Hard enough to make you gasp. “Are you going to argue some more? Or are you going to fuck me against this sink?”
You should have argued. You know you should have argued.
But the skin of her thighs was slick with her own arousal. And her scent—musky, salty, something dangerously addictive—filled your lungs. And her hand was guiding your cock between her legs, and she was so wet, so impossibly wet, the lips of her cunt parting around your tip like they’d been waiting for you—
“Shlrrrp.”
The sound of your cockhead pushing into her. Just the tip. Just an inch.
Wonyoung’s head fell back. Her mouth opened. A sound came out that wasn’t a moan or a gasp but something in between, something that started low and climbed octaves until it was almost a whine.
“Yessssss,” she hissed. “Yes, that’s it. Push inside me. Fucking push.”
You pushed.
Her cunt was tight. Unbelievably tight. Hot and wet and gripping, the walls of her pussy fluttering around your shaft as you sank deeper, inch by agonizing inch. Her inner muscles clenched and released, clenched and released, like her body was trying to milk you before you’d even started moving.
“Slosh—schlick—splortch—”
The wet sounds of her arousal squelching around your cock. Obscene. Amplified by the bathroom’s acoustics. You could hear every drop of her cunt’s lubrication being displaced by your intrusion.
“Look,” she commanded. Her hand grabbed your jaw. Turned your face down. “Look at my pussy stretching around your cock. Look at it. ”
You looked.
It was obscene. Beautiful and obscene in equal measure. Her outer lips—puffy, swollen, a shade of pink that bordered on red—gripped your shaft like they were trying to swallow it. Her inner lips, smaller but no less eager, fluttered with each tiny movement. A trimmed strip of black hair adorned her mound, neat and deliberate, guiding your eye downward to where your bodies joined.
And above it all, her clit. Engorged. Peeking out from its hood. Glazed with her own slick.
“You’re inside me,” she breathed. “You’re inside Wonyoung. Not Yujin. Me. Say it.”
“I’m inside you.”
“Say my name.”
“I’m inside you, Wonyoung.”
“Now fuck me. Hard. I want to feel you in my throat.”
You grabbed her hips. Fingers sinking into soft flesh. And you fucked her.
Not gently. Not sweetly. You fucked her like you were trying to punish her—or yourself—or maybe both. Your hips snapping forward, your cock driving deep, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls.
Pap. Pap. Pap. Pap-pap-pap.
“Yes, yes, fuck yes,” Wonyoung chanted. Her fingers scrabbled at your shoulders, your chest, her nails leaving red crescents on your skin. “Harder. Harder. Break me. I want to feel this tomorrow. I want to feel you for a week.”
The sink dug into your back. The mirror fogged with your combined breath. You could see yourself in it—a distorted reflection of your own face, eyes wild, mouth open, sweat beading on your forehead.
And Wonyoung, her back arching, her tits still trapped in her blouse but bouncing with every thrust, the fabric straining against her nipples—hard, visible, outlined against the cotton like they were trying to punch through.
“You want to see them?” She noticed you looking. Noticed you noticing. “Go ahead. Rip it off. My clothes are already ruined anyway.”
You didn’t need to be told twice.
The blouse tore like paper. Buttons popped. Scattered across the tile like little plastic raindrops. Her bra followed—one sharp tug and the clasp snapped, the cups falling away, her tits spilling free.
They were perfect.
Round. Full. Pale skin with blue veins visible beneath the surface like rivers on a map. Her nipples were dark—darker than you’d expected—and erect, the areolas crinkled tight from arousal. They bounced with each of your thrusts, a hypnotic rhythm that made your mouth water.
“Suck them,” she demanded. “Bite them. Mark me. I want hickeys all over my tits. I want Yujin to see what you did to me.”
You bent your head. Took one nipple into your mouth. Sucked.
Glk-glk-glk.
The sound of your mouth working her breast, your tongue swirling around the stiff peak, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Wonyoung’s response was immediate—a full-body shudder, her cunt clenching around your cock so hard you saw stars.
“Yes, yes, mark me! Suck harder! I want bruises!”
You sucked harder. Your cheeks hollowing. Your jaw aching. Meanwhile your other hand found her free breast, your fingers finding her nipple and pinching—twisting—pulling.
“Oh fuck—fuck—BOTH nipples, oh my god—”
Her cunt gushed. Literally gushed. A fresh wave of slick coating your shaft, dripping down your balls, splattering on the bathroom floor. The sound was unmistakable—a wet sqqquelch that seemed to go on forever.
“Did you just—”
“Almost,” she panted. “I almost came. You have no idea what you do to me. No one’s ever—I’ve never been this wet before.”
You pulled out. Just for a moment. Just to see.
Your cock was glistening. Coated in her arousal from base to tip, thick and translucent, strings of it connecting you to her like some kind of obscene web. Her cunt looked even more obscene—gaping slightly now, the hole you’d made visible, her lips puffy and flushed a deep, angry red.
“Don’t stop,” she whined. Actually whined. This woman who had been so composed, so calculating, so in control—now reduced to begging. “Please don’t stop. Put it back in. Fuck me. Fuck my pussy. Fuck it until I can’t walk.”
You slammed back inside her.
No pretense this time. No hesitation. Just pure, animal fucking. The kind that made your thighs burn and your lungs ache and your brain go blank.
Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap.
The rhythm was punishing. Brutal. Her tits bouncing wildly, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. Your balls slapped against her ass with each thrust, heavy and full and aching for release.
“Choke me,” she gasped.
“What?”
“Choke me. Please. I want to feel your hand around my throat while you fuck me.”
Your hand moved before your brain caught up. Fingers wrapping around the column of her neck. Not squeezing—not yet—just resting there. Feeling her pulse hammering beneath your palm. Feeling her swallow.
“Harder.”
You squeezed.
Her eyes rolled back. Her tongue lolled out—long and pink and glistening. Drool leaked from the corner of her mouth, trailing down her chin, dripping onto her chest.
“Glrk—yes—glrk—”
The sounds she made were inhuman. Choked and wet and desperate. Her cunt clenched around you in rhythmic spasms, the walls of her pussy rippling, massaging your cock in waves.
And still you fucked her.
“I’m close,” you gritted out. “Wonyoung, I’m going to—”
“Cum inside me. Fill me up. I want to feel it. I want to walk out of here with your cum dripping down my thighs. I want to leave a trail of you all the way home.”
“But—birth control—”
“Not on it. Don’t care. Cum inside me. Do it. ”
The words shattered something in you.
Your orgasm hit like a freight train. Not gradual—not a building wave—but a sudden, explosive detonation at the base of your spine that radiated outward, consuming everything. Your vision went white. Your ears rang. Your cock pulsed—once, twice, three times, four times—each spasm pumping rope after rope of hot cum deep into her cunt.
“Splurt—splurt—splurt—”
You could hear it. Could feel it. The wet, rhythmic pumping of your seed flooding her pussy, filling her up, painting her inner walls white. It kept going—more than you thought you had in you—until your cum was leaking out around your still-buried cock, dripping down her thighs in thick, pearly rivulets.
Wonyoung’s orgasm hit a heartbeat after yours.
Her eyes—already rolled back—went completely vacant. Her tongue lolled further out of her mouth. Her whole body convulsed, seized, shook like she’d been hit with a live wire. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with brutal force, the contractions so strong they almost hurt, milking you, pulling every last drop of cum from your spent shaft.
“Sqqquirt—gush—sploosh—”
Fluid sprayed from her. Not urine—something else, something clear and odorless, something that splattered across your thighs and stomach and dripped onto the bathroom floor. Her whole body shook with the force of it, her legs giving out, her weight collapsing against you.
You caught her. Barely. Your own legs threatening to buckle.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
You stayed inside her. Still hard. Still buried to the hilt. Her cunt still fluttering weakly around your cock, little aftershocks of pleasure rippling through her walls. Your cum—a slick, warm presence—pooled between your bodies, a shared secret.
“Slosh…”
The sound of you shifting inside her. The sound of your mingled fluids, thick and viscous, squelching with the movement.
Wonyoung’s eyes fluttered open. Dazed. Glazed. A smile spread across her face—slow and lazy and utterly satisfied.
“That,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from choking, “was worth the wait.”
She pulled back just enough to look down. To watch your cock—still half-hard—slide out of her used cunt. A flood of cum followed. Thick and white, gushing out of her gaping hole, trailing down her inner thighs.
“Look at that,” she breathed. “So much cum. You really filled me up, baby boy.”
She dragged a finger through the mess. Collected a glob of your mixed fluids. Brought it to her lips.
And sucked it clean.
“Mmmm.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “We taste good together.”
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Your brain was static, white noise, the hum of the fluorescent lights.
Wonyoung reached for her skirt. Stepped back into it. Didn’t bother with her panties—just kicked them under the sink and smoothed down the pleats. Her blouse—what was left of it—hung open, her marked tits on full display. She didn’t seem to care.
“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” she said, her voice calm. Collected. As if she hadn’t just been choking on your cock five minutes ago. “You’re going to go home. You’re going to think about what happened here. And you’re going to realize something.”
She stepped closer. Pressed a finger to your chest. Right over your heart.
“Yujin was never right for you. She was comfort. She was safe. But I’m what you need.”
“I love her,” you managed. Weak. Pathetic.
“You loved a version of her. A version that threw you away the second things got hard.” Wonyoung tilted her head. “I would never throw you away, Y/N. I just proved that. I fought for you. I took you. And I’m not giving you back.”
She leaned up. Pressed a kiss—soft, almost tender—to the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw. Then the hollow of your throat, directly over the hickey that was already darkening into a bruise.
“Go home,” she repeated. “Clean up. Rest. Because tomorrow…”
Her smile sharpened.
“Tomorrow, round two.”
She unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving you alone in the pink-tiled bathroom with your torn clothes and your shaking hands and the smell of sex heavy in the air.
The fluorescent light buzzed.
Somewhere in the distance, the café door chimed.
And you were still standing there, your cock wet with her cum and your own, when your phone vibrated in what remained of your jeans pocket.
A text.
From Yujin.
I’m sorry.
Two words. Trembling on the screen.
Then:
I want to talk. Can we meet tomorrow?
Your hand shook as you stared at the message. The bathroom mirror reflected your face—your marked throat, your swollen lips, your eyes that looked like they belonged to a stranger.
And from outside the door, just barely audible, came the distant sound of Wonyoung humming.
The bar was dim. Not romantic-dim, just sad-dim—the kind of lighting that made everyone look like they were attending their own funeral. You sat in a corner booth, the vinyl seat sticky beneath your thighs, a half-empty glass of whiskey sweating onto the scarred wooden table. You didn't even like whiskey. But ordering it felt appropriate. Penitent. Like flagellation in liquid form.
Yujin sat across from you.
She looked wrecked. Her eyes, usually bright enough to power a small city, were puffy and red-rimmed. Her caramel-brown hair hung limp around her face, unwashed, unbrushed. She'd chewed her bottom lip raw—a nervous habit you used to find endearing. Now it just looked painful.
Neither of you spoke for a long time.
The bar's jukebox wheezed out some forgotten country song. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed—a sharp, too-loud bark that made Yujin flinch.
"I'm sorry," she finally said. Her voice came out scraped. Raw. Like she'd been screaming. Or crying. Or both. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."
You didn't answer. Didn't know how. The whiskey glass was cool against your palm. Condensation dripped down your fingers.
"I should have listened." She reached across the table, her fingertips brushing your knuckles. Hesitant. Like she wasn't sure she still had permission to touch you. "I've been thinking about it all night. About everything you said. About Wonyoung. And I started remembering… things. Little things. The way she'd always find excuses to be around when you were there. The way she'd dress differently. The way she'd—" Her voice cracked. "God, I'm so stupid."
"You're not stupid."
"I am. I threw water in your face. In public. I didn't even let you explain." Tears spilled over her lashes. Tracked down her cheeks. "I believed her over you. My best friend over my boyfriend. What kind of person does that?"
The whiskey burned going down. You welcomed it. "She's been your friend since middle school."
"That doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. I should have trusted you." Yujin's hand closed around yours. Squeezed. "Can we—can we fix this? Can we try? I'll talk to Wonyoung. I'll set boundaries. I'll do whatever it takes."
Whatever it takes.
The words hung in the air between you. Heavy. Accusatory.
Your chest tightened. Because you knew—you knew—that the next words out of your mouth would destroy her. Would destroy everything. But she deserved the truth. After everything, she deserved that much.
"Yujin." Your voice came out wrong. Hollow. "There's something I need to tell you."
Her hand stilled. "What is it?"
"I…" The words stuck in your throat. Your tongue felt too thick. "Last night. After you left the café. Wonyoung and I…"
You couldn't finish. Didn't have to.
Yujin's face went through stages. Confusion. Disbelief. A slow, creeping horror that drained the color from her cheeks and left her looking like a ghost. Her hand withdrew from yours. Slowly. Like touching you had suddenly become dangerous.
"What?" The word was barely a whisper. "What are you saying?"
"I fucked her." The words came out blunt. Brutal. No way to soften them. No way to make them hurt less. "In the bathroom. After you left. She—we—I fucked Wonyoung."
Silence.
Absolute, crushing silence.
Yujin's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out. Her eyes searched your face—looking for the joke, the lie, the misunderstanding. Finding nothing but the truth.
"You…" She swallowed. Tried again. "You had sex with Wonyoung? My Wonyoung? My—" Her voice shattered. "When? When did you—how—"
"Right after you left. She dragged me into the bathroom and she—" You stopped. How could you explain it? How could you make her understand something you didn't understand yourself? "I was upset. I was crying. And she just… she was there. And she—"
"Stop." Yujin held up a hand. Her fingers trembled. "Just stop. Please."
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't—"
"Didn't what? Didn't mean to? Didn't want to?" Her voice rose, cracked, splintered into something jagged. "You could have said no. You could have pushed her away. You could have—"
"I know." Your eyes burned. "I know. And I didn't. I don't know why. I don't—"
"You don't know why?" A laugh burst out of her—ugly, disbelieving, soaked in anguish. "You don't know why you stuck your cock in my best friend? That's your excuse?"
There was no excuse. You had none. You sat there, gutted, while the woman you loved stared at you like you were a stranger. Like she'd never known you at all.
"I should go," you said. Pushed yourself up from the booth. "I shouldn't have—I'm sorry. I'll go."
"Wait." Yujin grabbed your wrist. Her grip was desperate. Fierce. "Wait. Don't—don't leave. I'm angry. God, I'm so angry. But I'm also—I'm the one who left first. I'm the one who didn't believe you. If I had just listened, none of this would have—"
"Don't." You pulled your wrist free. Gently. "Don't make excuses for what I did. You didn't make me fuck her. That was me. That was my choice."
"Was it?" Yujin's eyes searched yours. "She cornered you when you were vulnerable. She manipulated both of us. She—"
"Y/N! There you are!"
The voice cut through the bar like a blade through silk. Familiar. Sweet. Deadly.
Wonyoung.
She appeared at the edge of the booth like an apparition. Dressed in a black minidress that hugged every curve, her hair cascading in glossy waves past her shoulders, her lips painted a deep, bloody red. She looked immaculate. Untouchable. Like she'd stepped out of a magazine spread titled "Women Who Will Ruin Your Life."
And she was smiling.
"Wonyoung." Yujin's voice had gone flat. Cold. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing." Wonyoung's eyes flicked to you, then back to Yujin. Something sharp glinted in her gaze. Possessive. Territorial. "Meeting up with my boyfriend without telling me? That's not very nice, Yujin."
"Your—" Yujin stood up. Her chair scraped against the floor. "Your boyfriend? He's my boyfriend. He's been my boyfriend for two months. What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Was your boyfriend." Wonyoung slid into the booth, pressing herself against your side. Her arm looped through yours. Her breast pressed against your bicep. "Past tense. After what happened last night, I think we can all agree that things have changed."
"You—" Yujin's hands were shaking. "You fucking bitch. You planned this. You planned all of this."
"Planned?" Wonyoung's eyebrows rose. "I didn't plan anything. I just saw what I wanted and took it." She turned to you, her fingers trailing up your chest, her touch proprietary. "Speaking of which—I've been texting you all morning and you didn't reply to me at all. You know mommy is really, really needing that D, right?"
The word hit the table like a grenade.
Yujin made a sound—something between a gasp and a choke. Her face had gone white. Paper-white. Her eyes were huge, glistening, fixed on Wonyoung with an expression of absolute devastation.
"Mommy?" The word came out strangled. "You call her—he calls you—"
"That's between us." Wonyoung's smile was a knife. "You lost the right to know what goes on between us when you threw a glass of water in his face and walked out. Now. We should be going."
She tugged your arm. You didn't move.
Your eyes were on Yujin. On the tears streaming down her cheeks. On the way her chest heaved with silent sobs. On the absolute wreckage of her heart, written plain across her face.
"Y/N." Wonyoung's voice sharpened. "Let's go."
"I—" You looked at Yujin. At the woman who'd made you laugh until your stomach hurt. At the woman who'd traced patterns on your palm during bus rides. At the woman you'd been falling in love with, slowly and then all at once. "Yujin, I—"
"Please." Yujin's voice was tiny. Broken. "Please don't go with her. Please. I love you. I love you and I was stupid and I'm sorry and please, please don't—"
"She doesn't deserve you." Wonyoung's lips brushed your ear. Her breath was hot. Her perfume was intoxicating—something dark and expensive that made your head swim. "She threw you away. I picked you up. I worshiped you. I made you cum so hard you couldn't see straight. Did she ever do that? Did she ever get on her knees for you? Did she ever beg for your cock?"
Your cock twitched. Traitor. Fucking traitor.
"Come home with me." Wonyoung's hand slid down your chest. Down your stomach. Stopped just above your belt. "I'll make you feel so good, baby boy. Better than last night. Better than anything. I'll let you do things to me she never would. I'll let you destroy me."
Deep in your chest, something warred. Your heart screamed one thing—stay, comfort her, fix this, you love her, you love Yujin, you've always loved Yujin. But your body… your body remembered last night. Remembered the way Wonyoung's cunt had gripped your cock like a fist. Remembered the sounds she'd made—glorious, filthy, desperate sounds. Remembered the way she'd looked at you like you were a god.
"Y/N, please." Yujin's hand reached for you. Trembling. "Please. I'm begging you."
You looked at her hand. Looked at her face. Looked at the woman you'd thought you'd spend years with.
And then Wonyoung's fingers curled around your jaw. Turned your face toward hers.
"Eyes on me," she murmured. "You don't need her anymore. You have me. And I'm so much better."
Her lips brushed yours. Soft. Teasing. Promising.
"Let's go."
She stood. Pulled you with her. Your legs moved without permission—following her, trailing her, abandoning Yujin at the booth with her tears and her shattered apology and her outstretched hand that slowly, slowly fell to her side.
The bar door swung shut behind you.
Outside, a supercar idled at the curb—low and sleek and black, its engine purring like a predator. Wonyoung clicked a key fob and the doors lifted upward. Gull-wing. Of course. Because she couldn't do anything without making it a performance.
"Get in."
You got in.
The interior smelled like leather and Wonyoung's perfume. The seats hugged your body. The dashboard was a constellation of glowing instruments. She slid into the driver's seat, her dress riding up her thighs, revealing a flash of black lace that made your mouth go dry despite everything.
"Seatbelt," she said. Not a request.
You buckled it.
The engine roared. The car surged forward, pressing you back into your seat. Through the window, you caught one last glimpse of the bar—of Yujin stumbling out the door, her face a mask of grief, her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes meeting yours for one terrible, eternal moment.
Then the car turned a corner. And she was gone.
"She'll get over it." Wonyoung's hand landed on your thigh. Squeezed. "They always do."
You didn't answer. Couldn't. Your throat was closed. Your chest was a hollow cavity where something vital used to live.
"Don't be sad, baby boy." Her fingers crept higher. Stroked the inseam of your jeans. Found the growing bulge there and pressed down. "I'm going to make you forget all about her. I'm going to make you forget your own name."
The drive was a blur. Wonyoung drove the way she did everything—elegantly, dangerously, one hand on the wheel and the other on your crotch. She ran red lights. Swerved between lanes. All while her palm ground against your cock, coaxing it to full hardness, her nails tracing patterns through the denim.
"How did you find me?" The question scraped out of you.
"Easy." She glanced at you, her smile sharp. "After I fucked you senseless last night, I installed a tracking app on your phone. Took me thirty seconds while you were still trying to remember how to breathe."
"You what?"
"Don't act so shocked. I told you—I know what I want and I know how to get it. You're what I want. So I'm keeping tabs on you. Literally." She squeezed your cock through your jeans. "Besides, you should be flattered. No one's ever wanted you badly enough to track you before."
The penthouse elevators opened directly into her apartment. No hallway. No foyer. Just doors sliding apart and suddenly you were standing in a living room that looked like it belonged in a architectural digest—floor-to-ceiling windows, white marble floors, furniture that cost more than your annual salary.
But Wonyoung didn't give you time to admire the view.
Her hands were on your chest the moment the elevator doors closed behind you. Shoving. Hard.
You stumbled backward. Hit a wall. Hit a doorway. Hit something soft and massive and—
The bed.
King-sized. Draped in charcoal silk sheets. Pillows piled high like clouds.
"Finally." Wonyoung climbed onto the bed, straddling your hips, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your thighs. The hem of her dress rode up. Higher. Higher. The black lace of her panties—drenched already, you could see the damp spot, could smell her arousal, musky and sharp and fucking intoxicating—pressed against the bulge in your jeans.
"I've been thinking about this all day." Her fingers found the buttons of your shirt. Popped them. One by one. Methodical. "Thinking about your body. Your cock. The way you felt inside me."
Cool air hit your chest. Then her mouth.
She didn't kiss—she devoured. Her lips attacked your neck, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. Her teeth scraped. Bit. Sucked. Leaving marks—purple-red bruises blooming on your skin like flowers.
"I'm going to mark every inch of you," she murmured against your sternum. "Every. Fucking. Inch. So when you look in the mirror tomorrow, all you see is me."
Her mouth moved lower. Her tongue traced the ridge of your pectoral. Her teeth closed around your nipple.
Sllrrk. Sllrrk. Glrk.
The sound of her sucking your nipple. Wet. Hungry. Her tongue swirling, her lips sealed tight, her cheeks hollowing as she pulled. The sensation was electric—sharp and hot and directly connected to your cock, which throbbed painfully against your zipper.
"Fuck—"
"Mmm." She released your nipple with a wet pop. A string of saliva connected her lips to your chest. "You like that? You like when mommy sucks your tits?"
"Yes—"
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I like it."
"Good boy." She attacked the other nipple. Same treatment—sucking, biting, licking, her tongue flicking the sensitive peak while her fingers twisted and pinched the one she'd already abused. Slrk-slrk-slrk. The sounds were filthy. Wet. Amplified by the acoustics of the massive bedroom.
Your hips bucked. Involuntary. Your cock grinding against the heat between her legs.
"Eager." She pulled back. Grinned down at you. Her lipstick was smeared. Her hair was wild. She looked feral. Gorgeous. Terrifying. "I like eager. But we're doing this my way. Which means I'm in control. Which means you stay still while I mark you up like the good little toy you are."
Her mouth returned to your body. Neck. Shoulders. Chest. Stomach. She left hickeys everywhere—dark, angry bruises that would take weeks to fade. She bit your hip bone. Sucked a mark into the V-line above your jeans. Licked the trail of hair below your navel.
"Sit up." She pulled back. "Take off your shirt. The rest of it."
You obeyed. Your ruined shirt joined the growing pile of clothes on her floor.
"Now watch."
She stood. Reached behind her. Unzipped the black dress. The fabric slithered down her body, pooling at her feet like a shadow made liquid. Underneath, she wore a black lace bra and the matching panties you'd glimpsed in the car. Her body was flawless—toned thighs, a narrow waist, tits that overflowed the cups of her bra, spilling pale flesh over black lace.
"You're staring." She unhooked the bra. Let it fall. Her tits bounced free—full and round, her nipples dark and already erect, the areolas crinkled tight. "You can touch them. Later. First—"
She hooked her thumbs into her panties. Dragged them down her thighs. Stepped out of them. Kicked them aside.
Her cunt was beautiful. There was no other word. A neat strip of trimmed black hair above the mound. Outer lips plump and puffy, already swollen with arousal. Inner lips—smaller, pinker—peeking out, glistening with her slick. Her clit was visible, peeking from its hood, engorged and begging for attention.
"Now." She dropped to her knees at the edge of the bed. Her hands found your belt. Unbuckled it. Unzipped your jeans. "Lift your hips."
You lifted. She peeled your jeans down. Your boxers followed. Your cock sprang free, slapping against your stomach—fully hard, the tip flushed purple, pre-cum beading at the slit. The shaft was veined and thick, curving slightly upward, the weight of your balls heavy and full beneath.
"There you are." Wonyoung wrapped her fingers around the base. Squeezed. A bead of pre-cum welled up and she caught it with her thumb, smearing it across the head. "I've been thinking about this cock all day. Couldn't concentrate on anything. Couldn't think about anything except how it felt stretching my tight little cunt."
She leaned forward. Her tongue darted out. Licked the slit.
Schllrrp.
Salty. Bitter. You watched her eyes flutter closed, watched her savor the taste like it was fine wine.
"Mmmmn." She licked again. Longer this time. From base to tip, tracing the thick vein on the underside. "So good. So fucking good. I could lick this cock for hours."
Her mouth opened. Wider. Wider. She took the head between her lips, her tongue swirling around the crown, dipping into the slit, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked steadily now.
"Suck it properly." Her voice was muffled. She spoke around your cock like she was talking to herself. "Suck it the way it deserves. The way Yujin never did."
The mention of Yujin's name was a needle in your chest. But the pain was distant. Drowned out by the feeling of Wonyoung's mouth sliding down your shaft—glrk, glrk, glrk—taking you deeper, deeper, until her nose pressed against your pubic bone and your cockhead bumped the back of her throat.
"Glrk—glrk—mmmnnn—glrk—"
She held herself there. Impaled on your cock. Her throat constricting around you, muscles rippling, massaging your shaft in waves. Her eyes—watery, mascara starting to run—stared up at you. Daring you to look away.
You couldn't.
She pulled back. Slowly. Her lips dragging along your shaft, her tongue pressing hard against the underside. When just the tip remained in her mouth, she sucked—hard—her cheeks hollowing with the force.
SLLLLRRRP-POP.
The sound of her releasing your cock was wet and obscene. A rope of saliva connected her lips to your tip. It stretched. Snapped.
"Fuck," you breathed.
"Language." She grinned. "But yes. Fuck. That's exactly what we're doing."
Her hand replaced her mouth. Stroking. Fast and slick and tight. "You like mommy's mouth on your cock? You like the way I choke on it?"
"Yes—"
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I like it. I like your mouth on my cock."
"Good boy." She squeezed harder. Pumped faster. "Now tell me—who has the best mouth? Me or Yujin?"
"I—she never—we never—"
"Oh, that's right. You never even got a blowjob from her, did you? Poor baby. All that time, and she never once got on her knees for you." Her tongue lapped at the head. Quick. Teasing. "Her loss. Because I'm going to suck this cock until your balls are empty. Then I'm going to ride it. Then I'm going to suck it again. We're not stopping until I say we stop. Understand?"
"Understand."
"Good."
She swallowed you again. This time there was nothing gentle about it. She fucked her own face with your cock—bobbing furiously, her saliva dripping down your shaft and pooling in your pubic hair, her throat making wet choking sounds that filled the room. Glrk-glrk-glrk-glrk. Her hand pumped whatever wouldn't fit in her mouth. Her other hand cupped your balls, kneading them, rolling them, tugging gently.
The pressure built. Low in your gut. Hot and tight.
"I'm close—Wonyoung, I'm—"
She pulled off immediately. "Not yet."
"But—"
"I said not yet." She stood. Climbed onto the bed. Pushed you flat against the mattress. "You don't cum until I'm wrapped around your cock. Until I've milked every drop out of you into my cunt. Until you've filled me up so full it leaks out of me for days."
She swung one leg over your hips. Straddled you. Her cunt hovered above your cock—so close you could feel the heat radiating from her, could see the slick glistening on her inner thighs.
"You're going to watch," she said. "Watch my pussy swallow your cock. Watch me take what I want."
Her hand wrapped around your shaft. Guided you to her entrance. The swollen lips of her cunt parted around your tip—schlrrrp—the sound wet and eager. She didn't sink down. Just held you there. The head of your cock nestled inside her, gripped by her inner muscles, while the rest of your shaft throbbed in the cool air.
"Please—"
"Please what?"
"Please, Wonyoung. Fuck me. Ride my cock."
"Since you asked so nicely."
She dropped.
Schlunk.
One motion. One fluid, brutal motion that impaled her on your cock. Her cunt swallowed you whole—every inch, every vein, every throbbing pulse of your shaft buried inside her in a single heartbeat.
"FFFFUUUUUCK." Her head fell back. Her mouth opened. Her tongue lolled out—long and pink and glistening. Her eyes rolled backward, the whites showing, her lashes fluttering. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, you're so deep. You're in my fucking stomach. I can feel you in my throat—"
Her cunt clenched around you. Rippled. Milked. The walls of her pussy were hot and wet and impossibly tight, gripping your cock like a fist, the inner ridges massaging your shaft with every tiny movement she made.
She started to move.
Not gentle. Not slow. She rode you like she was trying to break you—her hips slamming down, grinding, circling. Pap-pap-pap-pap. The sound of her ass meeting your thighs. Wet squelching sounds—splortch, schlick, squelsh—as her cunt gushed around you.
"Look at my tits." She grabbed them. Squeezed them together. Her nipples—dark and swollen—pointed at you like accusations. "Look at them bounce while I ride your cock. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Every time I drop down on this thick fucking dick, my tits bounce. You like that? You like watching mommy's tits bounce?"
"Yes—fuck—yes—"
"Good. Because they're going to bounce a lot. I'm going to ride you until my thighs give out. Until my cunt is sore. Until you've cum inside me so many times you can't remember what your own name is."
The first orgasm built fast. Too fast. Her cunt was too tight, too wet, her rhythm too punishing. You felt it coiling—pressure in your balls, heat in your spine, electricity in your skull.
"I'm cumming—Wonyoung, I'm—"
"Do it. Cum inside me. Fill me up. Now."
Splurt. Splurt. Splurt. Splurt.
Your cock pulsed inside her—violent, desperate spasms that pumped rope after rope of hot cum into her cunt. She kept riding through it, her hips never slowing, her pussy milking every drop. The sensation was overwhelming—pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain, your cock hypersensitive, each stroke sending jolts through your entire body.
"Yessssss." She hissed the word. Her nails dug into your chest. Raked downward. Left red scratches on your skin. "Yes, fill up mommy's cunt. So much cum. I can feel it. So warm. So thick. Keep going—keep fucking pumping—don't stop—"
Your orgasm subsided. But she didn't stop riding.
"Round one," she panted. "That was round one. We're doing this five times. Five loads. Five creampies. I want to be so full of your cum that it's dripping out of me for a week."
She kept moving. Kept grinding. Your cock—still hard, still buried inside her—twitched with oversensitivity. Every nerve ending screamed. But she didn't care. She leaned forward, her tits pressing against your chest, her mouth finding your neck.
"Round two," she whispered against your skin. "Let's go."
She rode you slower this time. Grinding. Circling her hips. Her pubic bone pressed against yours with each rotation, her clit grinding against your skin. Her breathing grew ragged. Her moans grew louder.
"Yes—yes—right there—don't stop—"
Her fingers found your nipples. Pinched. Twisted. Hard. The pain mixed with pleasure, blurring the lines until you couldn't tell them apart. Your hips bucked up into her, driving your cock deeper, and she screamed—a high, keening sound that bounced off the walls.
"Cum with me," she gasped. "Cum with me, baby boy. Fill me up again. I'm so close—so fucking close—"
Her cunt clamped down. Convulsed. Her orgasm hit—she squirted, clear fluid gushing from her, splashing across your stomach and thighs. The contractions of her pussy triggered your own release—your second load pumping into her, mixing with the first, filling her up until cum leaked out around your still-buried cock.
Splurt-splurt—schlosh—gush.
"Oh god, oh fuck, oh god—" Her tongue hung out. Her eyes rolled back. Her whole body shook. "Two—that's two—three more—I need three more loads—"
She collapsed against your chest. Panting. Her cunt still fluttering weakly around your cock. Your mixed fluids—cum and her slick and her squirt—soaked the silk sheets beneath you.
"Give me a minute." Her voice was slurred. Drunk with pleasure. "Just a minute. Then I'm riding you again."
The minutes blurred. Time lost meaning.
Round three: She flipped onto her back, pulled you on top of her. "Fuck me missionary. I want to see your face when you cum inside me this time." You drove into her—hard, deep, your hips slapping against hers. Splap-splap-splap. Her legs wrapped around your waist. Her heels dug into your ass. Her cunt gripped you like it never wanted to let go. When you came—your third load pumping into her—she watched your face the whole time. "Beautiful," she whispered. "You're so beautiful when you cum."
Round four: She bent over the edge of the bed. Ass up. Face down. "From behind. I want to feel you in my stomach." Her cunt looked obscene from this angle—puffy lips spread wide, your cum leaking out of her gaped hole, her clit swollen and red. You slammed into her. Harder than before. Brutal. Pap-pap-pap-pap. She screamed into the mattress. Her fingers clawed at the silk sheets. Her cunt squelched around you—splortch, schlick, squelsh—each thrust forcing more cum out of her, dripping down her thighs. When you came—your fourth load—you grabbed her hips and held yourself deep, pumping your seed directly against her cervix.
Round five: She was exhausted. You were exhausted. But she wouldn't stop. "One more. Give me one more. I need it. I need to be so full of you that I can't walk straight." She climbed on top of you again. Sunk down on your cock—schlunk—a wet, filthy sound. Her movements were slower now. Weaker. But no less desperate. She rode you until you both came together—your fifth orgasm, your fifth load, her third squirt of the night. The fluids pooled on the bed. Soaked the mattress. Filled the room with the smell of sex.
When it was over—when she finally collapsed beside you, her body limp and trembling—neither of you spoke for a long time.
Your cock was still half-hard. Still leaking. Your balls ached—empty, drained, wrung out. Your entire body felt like it had been used. Which, you supposed, it had.
Wonyoung curled against your side. Her head on your chest. Her leg draped over your thighs. Her cunt—still leaking your cum—pressed against your hip.
"Mine," she murmured. Already half-asleep. "You're mine now. All mine."
Your eyes grew heavy. The exhaustion was absolute. Bone-deep. You couldn't have moved if the building caught fire.
Sleep pulled you under.
You didn't hear the camera shutter.
You didn't see Wonyoung lift her phone. Didn't see her angle it carefully—her face pressed against your sleeping chest, your neck covered in her hickeys, your bodies tangled together on the ruined sheets. Didn't see her smile as she opened her messaging app.
Didn't see the photo send.
Didn't see the text that followed: "Thanks for delivering your boyfriend to me."
And somewhere across the city, in a small apartment with the lights off and the curtains drawn, Yujin's phone lit up on her nightstand.
It’s one thing to be playing strip blackjack with your roommate for the fun of it, bored out of your mind because the semester’s over and the both of you decided not to go back to your hometowns for reasons out of both your control. It’s another to be playing strip blackjack when you’re down to your boxers and she’s still somehow halfway to getting into her birthday suit.
You probably should’ve told her to take off her jacket and all the accessories she was wearing. Having each one as an individual piece of clothing is the most bullshit excuse you’ve ever heard, more so when you realized she has earrings and socks on.
“Oh come on,” she starts, throwing her hands up in the air. “Are you that scared of me seeing your dick? It’s not that small from what I remem–”
“Fuck you.” You send a middle finger her way. “I'm on eighteen and you’re on fifteen. You hit.”
Playing safe normally isn’t what you prefer doing, the need to throw down another card tempting you. But the odds of getting anything below a three is so goddamn miniscule, you’d be guaranteeing your loss.
And this is not how you thought having Sooin see you naked after God knows how long would go.
Sooin grabs the stack of cards, taking the first off the deck. She doesn’t flip yet, only placing it down next to her two fours and a seven. “I bet this is a six,” she says, tapping on the card.
“And I bet that it’s anything but a six,” you counter, and she graces you with a laugh.
“Willing to bet your boxers on that?” she asks, nodding to said clothing. Your last line of defense to your dignity, pride, ego. But if that saying about a good defense is a good offense applies here, then you might as well use it to your advantage.
“You willing to bet your entire top off for it?” you counter, leaning back on your chair. It’s a gamble, not one you’re sure she’ll bite on, yet you’re desperate. In dire need of a hail mary, and this—this is your one shot to getting it.
Besides, seeing her tits is a major plus.
“Bitch, I’ll bet everything I’m wearing it’s a six.” The way she sounds so confident about it makes you think she’s somehow rigged the deck when though you’ve been the one that’s been shuffling it since the beginning of this whole thing.
She does the job for you, when she slams the cards down on the table. Crossing her arms and smirks at you.
“I’ll even bet something better for you,” Sooin starts, her legs crossing, and the smooth expanse of her skin starts to entice you, her shorts riding up and showing even more of those thighs. “If I don’t get a six, I’ll be free use for you for the entire week,” she states, the glee in her face dropping an offer that only the devil would ever give. “And we got all week.”
“Sooin, what the fuck–” You’ve known this woman for years, since she barged in your life as your roommate in the middle of your sophomore year and called the supposed guest room as hers. With the amount of shit the both of you have gotten up to with all that time—the rare sex with her included—this has got to be the most dangerous thing she’s ever done. “You don’t offer that up like it’s nothing–”
“Sure I can,” she says, rolling her eyes at you. “We’ve fucked before, what’s so difference about this?”
“We don’t have to be betting shit like that.” You dodge the question, your own legs cross to hide the growing erection in your pants. “We can stick to clothes–”
“Boring.” Her fingers twirl around the curls of her hair. “You need some spice in your life. Some flair. And I’m offering it to you.” Her head tilts. “‘Sides, when was the last time you got laid? Was it that Chaeyoung girl–”
“Chaewon,” you correct, shaking your head. Now she has you hooked on the deal being offered. Your entire wager flipped on you, and you can’t tell if she’s being serious or not. “And that’s pretty rich coming from you.”
“Whatever her name is–” She shrugs, avoiding your own question by picking up one of her cards and tapping it on the table. “I’m here offering you a once in a lifetime deal. And we’d both be happy at the end of it.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Anytime you want.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Anywhere you want.”
Taptaptaptap—
“Anything you want–”
“If you don’t get a six,” you enunciate, syllable by syllable. “You’ll just–what, do as I say?”
“If I don’t get a six,” Sooin repeats, hand pausing the drumming of the paper. “I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. No holds barred. No questions asked. You can have me on my knees right now if you win–”
“Jesus Christ, Swim.” Your palm meets your face, in complete disbelief of what she’s saying. You sigh, real fucking deep, gaze going up to the ceiling for a moment, trying to think about the whole thing. Yet your mind’s already made up, and all you can do is ask about the one thing that you’re sure will happen.
“And if you do pull a six?”
“Then you be free use instead.” The answer is instant, and that is where she gets you. When you think about it, it sounds like a win win situation. “Actually, let’s make this easier for the both of us.”
So nice of her, you think.
“If you have a worse hand than mine, you lose.” That’s mildly easier, but still impossible. Besides, only the crazy ones would ever think of hitting on an eighteen. “And the same goes to me.” She points to the one face down on the table. “Shittier hand than yours, I lose.”
“This has to be bait.” The comment slips out, airing out the first thing that came to mind hearing the terms.
“It’s not.” The look of disbelief on your face makes her gape at you. “I’m not joking, it’s not.”
“Sure, and you didn’t rig the deck so you win again.”
“I didn’t rig jackshit, thank you very much. You need to believe in the heart of the cards.”
“Whatever you say, Yugi,” you chuckle. You glance at the deck, and that top card is begging you to take it. Get the whole thing over and done with, the result be damned.
Though, there is an instance of—
“What happens if we both go over?”
“Easy.” She shrugs. “Then we both win.”
Your head leans back in surprise. “How the hell does that even work?”
“I get to fuck you whenever, you do the same. It’s not rocket science.” Another shrug. “Your other head would do the thinking.”
“And I’m starting to think you’re the one who needs to get laid,” you comment, and she graces you with a smirk.
“It’s a win win type of deal.” She ignores the dig, propping her chin up with her hand. “Just depends who wins more.” She gives you a pointed look. “So, you in or out?”
Sooin’s not wrong. It is a win win deal, and you’d be an idiot not to take it.
You sigh.
“Fine.”
Your hand grabs the card, sliding it off the stack and placing it next to your two cards. “Who goes first?”
“Same time?” Sooin asks, fingers ready to flip the card on her side.
You nod, hand prepped to do the same. “This is insane, you know,” you mutter, licking your lips. Foot tapping rapidly—in anticipation or nervousness, you don’t know—and shaking your head at her. “Absolutely fucking crazy.”
“You can always back out.” She takes her time with it, pushing the edges up slowly, her gaze focused on you rather than on the piece of paper in her hands. “Or are you really a pussy?”
Well, those are some fighting words. And you didn’t get raised like a bitch to back off.
“Just fucking do it already, Sooin.”
She smirks, and with a flourish, she turns it over faster than you can. Your eyes land on her hand, and lo and be-fucking-hold, it’s a goddamn eight.
Everything rushes at you, all at once—relief, shock, joy, unease. It’s all there, because on one hand, you just won a bet against Sooin. On the other, the bet’s stipulations scare the utter life out of you.
“Would you look at that,” Sooin scoffs, grinning at you. “We both lost.”
You blink, and you look down to your own hand.
Twenty Eight.
Heart in the fucking cards your ass—
“No fucking way that just happened.” She huffs a laugh, staring at your hands. “Did we seriously both fucking lose?”
“You’re the one that said to believe in the heart of the cards,” you retort, shaking your head at how things have ended up.
“You know what?” She stands up, picking up the cards and fixing them up back into a single deck. “I’m going to hold up my end of the deal.” Doesn’t even let you soak it in, simply takes your hand away from you and places it back onto the set. “That better be the same for you too.”
“What the fuck does that mean–”
“It means,” Sooin cuts you off, placing the deck neatly on the center of the table. “I’m going to be riding the fuck out of you tomorrow. Or, you know–”
She gives you an innocent smile, as if her words are to become a common occurrence in your household for the week. She bends down, her lips so close to whisper temptations in your ear. Whatever you want, she says, your name rolling past her lips. “All week long.”
Leaves you with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder as she heads to her bedroom. Doesn’t bother waiting for a response, instead settling for a—
“Goodnight!”
While you’re over here slumping on your chair, staring at her door and shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.
What the hell did you get yourself into?
—
Sleeping late came naturally to you.
The mental gymnastics you’ve done to convince yourself that everything Sooin said was some sick prank she’s pulling on you, that you’d be waking up to another normal day with her, lazing about and wasting another day doing nothing along with all the other reasons you tell yourself—made you lose your mind trying to instill all of that in your head.
Add to trying to understand why Sooin started that bet at all when she really didn’t have to, aside from the obvious one that your brain is telling you isn’t at all the reason, and you’re almost to a point where you need to admit yourself to a mental asylum trying to figure it out.
You’re almost glad that this didn’t happen during exam week, or else you would’ve been failing all of it left and right with the lack of sleep. Or stamina, if Sooin really was serious.
Which she wasn’t, of course.
You don’t know if you can stop yourself from taking advantage of the bet if she ever gave you any form of a go signal. And if she was, you know she would do the same.
Still, all those days trying to survive the term has made your body’s alarm clock ring, causing you to wake up in the early hours of the morning thinking that there’s some eight o’clock lecture you need to be up for. While you could always stay in, as there is nothing to wake up to this early for the next few weeks, your stomach rumbling tells you otherwise.
So here you are, dragging yourself to the kitchen to make some instant coffee that barely turns you into a functional human being, a bowl of cereal made while you wait for the kettle to heat the water. You would have loved to have some bacon and eggs but alas, someone forgot to do this week’s groceries.
Eventually, Sooin comes out of her room looking the complete opposite of you. It says a lot already, considering you look like a dead man walking and she slept like a baby last night. Arms stretching out as she walks towards you, slumping on the chair opposite of you. Greets you with such energy you’d think she isn't the Sooin you know.
And yet she is, staring at you eating your bowl miserably, a smile on her lips as she leans back on the chair. “You look like shit,” she muses, and she doesn’t need an answer from you to know why.
“Didn’t get much sleep last night.” You play along with it, pretend that everything about last night doesn’t have you in a chokehold.
“I bet.” Her elbow rests on the top back of her chair. “Need a little pick me up?”
She’s dangling the entire thing in front of you, gauging to see just how far you’re willing to keep up with this charade. And if you weren’t so mentally exhausted you could have—should have—said no outright, trying to prevent the impending roller coaster that’s coming your way. And yet your brain decides to make things as ambiguous as possible.
“The coffee can do.” You nod to the kettle, where you are waiting for the stupid thing to finish heating up.
“You sure?” She raises an eyebrow, her eyes glances at the kettle herself. “I’m available to help out, if you want me to.”
The wording isn’t lost on you, making you smile as you raise a spoon full of cereal and milk. “Yeah, Swim. I’m sure.”
She grins, her mouth opening to speak until the kettle finally pings. The both of you take a glance at it, steam rising out of the opening. You move to handle it, but Sooin tells you that she’ll do it instead. Need a cup myself, she says as she passes by, leaving you to eat your cereal in peace.
You take the moment to take a few more spoonfuls as you think up ways of conveniently not run into Sooin for the week, but living with her makes that a daunting task. Being a shut in is always an option, but you’d go insane doing nothing in your room eventually. Or go out everyday until the week ends, check out the mall or go on a quick adventure out of town somewhere.
You can feel your wallet begging you not to do it, making you wonder if you can find another part time for a week at some cafe or convenience store. Whatever to get you out and about and not being with Sooin twenty four seven.
Not that you weren’t against the whole thing. Hell, you want it. In the face of last night, anyone would be stupid not to accept it. Much like you are being an idiot about it.
It’s almost like a slap in the face, when you realize that you could’ve had her on her knees right about now.
The doubt slowly begins to leave your mind, when all the signs point towards Sooin taking it seriously come filling in. You’re being a complete dumbass—no, more than that for wasting a perfectly good night’s rest in exchange for losing your mind for something that really, really should not have been worth losing sleep over.
You’ll be losing sleep over fucking Sooin instead.
The chair you’re sitting on gets pulled away from the table, and the soft, warm weight of Sooin straddles you. Her arms wrap around your neck as she takes a spot on your lap, not allowing you to leave.
“Sooin, what are you–”
“I won last night too, you know.” Her hips roll against yours, making you clench your teeth and tense up. A quick glance tells you that she’s taken her shorts off, leaving her in just her panties and a shirt tight enough to let you know she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. “And since you won’t start, I figured I would.”
She pulls you in for a kiss, and everything you thought of—the denials, the doubt—fully goes out the window when you can finally have a taste of her lips once again. And she’s a force of nature, infecting your mind and body with an overwhelming sense of Sooin; how she smells, her grinding on your cock, her lips exploring yours for the first time.
“You taste like milk,” she says, a quiet chuckle coming out of her as your hands find her waist. She keeps her pace tortuously slow, your cock twitching and aching and wanting more.
“I did just have cereal.” Stating the obvious, obviously. “What else did you think I’d taste like?”
“I don’t know–” she teases, arms coming down to undo the tie of your shorts. “But I’d be happy to find out. We have all week, remember?”
You raise your hips, helping her fish your cock out from your clothing. “Right,” you sigh out, her hand caressing your length, lightly gripping it and giving you a few exploratory pumps. “All week.”
Sooin smiles, pecking your lips once more. “There he is.” She straightens up, her hand finding a rhythm in her strokes, and your cock hardens at her touch. “Guess a woman’s touch makes you fold quick, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up, Sooin,” you laugh, a hand coming down to squeeze her thigh. “I can feel you dripping through your panties, you know.”
“Blame a girl for finally being able to fuck her roommie again, why doncha.” Her words make you the last time you two fooled around.
“I don’t remember that.” You do. Of course you do. It was a drunken affair on both your ends because of some party she was attending at her rich best friend’s house on the other side of town. You weren’t even supposed to be there, but someone apparently needed to pick her up. One thing led to another, and you’re waking up on her bed, tangled in her sheets.
“That’s a shame.” She knows you’re lying. You both acted like strangers for a better part of a month, and the only thing that got things back to normal was yet another party.
Sooin pulls her panties to the side, lining herself up with your dick. Circling her wet folds around your tip, getting you slick with her juices as she slowly plunges down on you. “Here’s a reminder then.”
A deep moan rumbles out of you, head tilting back as her heat begins to wrap around your length. “Jesus, Sooin–” Your grip on her hips grow firmer, your eyes watching her face morph into an expression of such pleasure that the only thing you can do is stare and admire every small microexpression she makes.
“God, I’m going to enjoy this,” Sooin sighs, eyes fluttering shut for a moment when she nearly bottoms out on your shaft, her walls hugging you so fucking tightly. “Sit back and enjoy, yeah?”
She takes a minute to get used to you filling her, let you stretch her out and leave you simmering in her heat. Doing these little rolls of her hips that gets you twitching inside of her, moans coming out of the both of you. “Missed this filling me up so fucking well–”
“So you did just want to get laid,” you tease, taking your hands off her momentarily to push them underneath her shirt, wanting to feel her skin instead of fabric. “Could’ve just asked.”
A scoff escapes her, her fingers giving your scalp a quick tug. “Excuse me for not wanting to get in between you and that Chaewon chick–”
“Sooin, nothing happened.” Her questioning look makes you repeat your words.
“Uh huh.” She presses her weight down on you, bottoming out and taking your entire length. You let out a groan, eyes closing at the sheer pressure of her cunt taking you. Another tug of your hair gets you quickly opening them back up. “And I didn’t watch you mope around the day after.”
“What? No–” You shake your head, confused to where the hell she was trying to take this conversation. You would think she would prefer that you focus on her considering your balls deep in her cunt, and yet Sooin continues to surprise you. “She was just a fling, okay? Nothing else happened.”
And she was. You met her at a party, you two had sex, you went your separate ways. You moping around the day after was because even after getting laid, it didn’t change the fact that you flunked your exam before it. It’s a miracle you managed to tell her all of that while her pussy pulses around you, her grinding on your cock making you stutter your words.
Fingers tap on your neck, her gaze narrowing at your explanation. “So you don’t have feelings for her?” She slowly begins to bounce on your lap, and the insanity of what’s happening right now is starting to get to you. Interrogated about some girl while getting fucked by your—well, an important girl is something to cross off the list.
“Sooin, we fucked. That’s it.” You squeeze her hips, biting your lip at the sensation of Sooin clenching around you. “Can we pl–please go back to focusing on this?”
She doesn’t answer you. At least, not verbally. Her rhythm goes faster, harder, fucking herself on you like she’s chasing her own high. Her weight presses down on you, pulling herself close to your chest, her breath hot in your ear as her moans consume your senses.
“You fucking focus,” she mutters, her hold on you tightening, ass dropping down on your lap. She’s insatiable, so much more different than the last time. Frantic in how she rides that you can barely hold on with your life. “Just–sit still, stay hard, and make me cum you son of a–”
It’s sending you to the edge fast, barely being able to hang on. Even when you’re trying to hold off and fight back against what your body is demanding you to do. Sooin's increasingly erratic movements; bouncing and grinding and fucking herself on your cock until all you can think of is filling her with your load.
“Don’t think I can, Swim.” It comes out shaky from you, amidst all Sooin’s moans and skin against skin hitting against each other. Arms wrap around her waist, pulling her in and saying her name. Sooin, Sooin, Sooin please—
“Go ahead.” Her words are a shot to the brain, an unraveling of your entire nervous system and turning a singular thought into reality.
“Cum inside me.”
It’s stupid how quickly you crumble at those words. Your mouth finds her neck, biting down gently as your cock unloads inside her. Each spurt comes with a content moan from Sooin, singing straight into your ears. Euphoria consumes your senses, nipping and marking her neck as your eyes threaten to roll back from the pleasure.
“That’s it,” she coos, her grip vice-like around you, each throb of your cock filling her cunt full of your load. She puts her entire weight on you, unable to leave her warm embrace as you try to fuck your load deeper into her. “Fucking needed this–”
Sooin bites her lip, savoring the entire thing, basking in the afterglow of it all. The grin on her face tells you exactly how much she’s enjoyed it, and you can only imagine what else you’ll be looking at for the rest of the week.
“So,” she starts, lips finding your cheek to leave a gentle little peck. “Coffee?”
You chuckle, licking the spot where you’ve left a red mark on her neck. “Sure, Sooin.” Watch her slowly pull away, your cock leaving her walls and letting the cum that you’ve dumped inside her to spill down to the floor.
Neither of you do anything to clean it up right now, considering—
“Coffee sounds great.”
—
You don’t see Sooin until the late afternoon, coming back to your apartment after a day of finally doing her turn to do the groceries. You would’ve tagged along if not for the fact that you had to do the laundry this week around, and pair it up with helping her stock the cupboard full of what she bought and you’re sinking down on the couch.
“I don’t think we needed that much for this week,” you complain, eyes staring up at the ceiling. Buying almost double of what you two normally get makes you wonder where the hell she got enough cash to buy that, but her reply gets you to scoff in disbelief.
“Supermarket had a sale,” she grunts, sliding down next to you, head on your lap as a makeshift pillow. “Thought it’d be smart to buy as much as I can.”
“Your wallet agree with that?”
“Nope.” She pops the syllable, taking out her phone, tapping away at the screen. “Not like my wallet can’t handle it. At least we won’t have to worry about things here for a while.”
A while is an understatement. She bought enough for you both to stop buying any essentials for a month. And while you know she can afford much more than that, you had to convince her that you're not going to freeload off her in your own place.
Because for all the oddest reasons, the fact that she has fuck you money to spend yet only splurges it on things she likes is such an odd combination. Exactly how she ended up taking your guest room instead of getting her own place.
You remember her words clear as day. Too expensive and high maintenance. Which is, again, a weird thing to say when she can pay people to handle it for her, but she says it's for her own good more than anything. Gotta learn to be independent some day, might as well be now, she said.
“Look at you, being a responsible adult,” you tease, finger reaching down to poke her cheek. She immediately swats it away with a roll of her eyes.
“Fuck off,” she chuckles, eyes never straying from her phone. “We’ve been needing to stock up on all that stuff anyway.”
“I don’t think we needed that much instant ramen though.” Your gaze flicks to the stack of it by the counter. “Seriously, that might be a little too much.”
“To you, maybe,” she says, turning her phone horizontally. “I’ll be eating some too, you know.”
“You mean all of it?” The light jam of her elbow to your ribs gets you laughing.
The conversation ends there, and the only thing left to fill the empty silence are the shooting that comes from her phone and whatever it is that you’ve decided to watch on the TV. It stays like that for a while, and your boredom continues to grow at each passing second, each passing commercial, each movement of Sooin’s head on your lap—
The thought of asking her to, you don’t know, do something to her sounds inane. Breakfast’s events come flooding your memories, and as much as you want to do the same thing to her, you want to test the waters first.
Your arm comes to rest at her stomach, playing with the hem of her top. It gets her to flinch in surprise, gaze flickering up to you.
“What are you doing?” There’s a knowing glint in her eyes; one that tells you that an answer doesn’t need to be told, when she already has an idea of what you want. An eyebrow raises when you slowly drag your fingers upward.
“Nothing,” you say, resting your palm on one of her breasts, covered in layers of fabric. Your eyes are still watching the television—some old cartoon about a cat and mouse—while your fingers play around her chest. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Sooin lets out a scoff, biting her lip to stop the grin on her face as she comes back to her phone. “Do what you want.”
Well, alright then.
Your hands wander; kneading her breasts with light squeezes, running your hands through the curves of her body. They eventually find themselves pushing under her top, wanting to feel the smooth expanse of her tummy up to her tits.
She doesn’t make a single complaint throughout, allowing all this to happen. When you run up and down her body, all she does is let out these hums. When your fingers pull her bra down so that you can play around with her nipples, her legs squirm and push together.
And when you ask if you can use her mouth, she hits you back with another question:
“Are you asking or telling?”
A quick tug of your drawstrings, a little repositioning of Sooin’s head as you take your cock out, already at half mast, and pointing it to her mouth, tongue out and waiting. “I’ll be quick,” you say, a laughable lie as you know you’re going to be taking your sweet time with her.
She does fuck all about it, keeping on with her game as your hand rests on her hair as you thrust languidly into her wet mouth. Your shaft growing to full length the longer you stay inside her throat, and she shifts to get into a more comfortable position. As comfortable as she can get, having a cock in her mouth while her hands are busy playing.
Her cheek bulges, her throat takes you deep, her tongue flattens under your length. Yet her eyes never stray from her phone, hearing the sounds of combos being hit and encouraging cheers from her phone. She mutters words you barely understand, and as much as you want to pull out and ask, she hasn't told you to stop.
That only gets you to push it further, a firmer grasp on her head to drive your hips forward. Spit begins to accumulate around her mouth, dripping down to coat you; a sound akin to a whine vibrates around your shaft as her focus on the game breaks.
Her head fights back against your pushes for a moment, your grip relaxing to let her talk. “Let me finish this match first,” she mutters before her lips meet your tip, wrapping around you and keeping you in her mouth.
It’s absurd, how warm her mouth is. Managing to get you squirming without moving an inch, only the sliding of her tongue up and down the tip of your cock. Tongue swirling and cheeks hollowing gets your thighs flexing from the sheer pressure that she’s inflicting upon you. Your fingers come back resting on her hair, gripping her dark locks, wanting—needing to take back control.
So you do. Hands start to push and pull her around your cock, and she’s spluttering; fingers stumbling around her phone, causing it to fall down to the couch. They find your thighs, steadying herself as she manages to fall down to her knees, using her mouth for the sinful pleasure that she offers. Even with the spittle that starts to fall down her chin, the glare that her eyes are piercing you with, and the slight whine she makes as you so rudely interrupt her game, she makes no movement to stop you.
Hell, it feels like she’s leaning into it. Decency thrown out the window as more drool comes to coat your cock, bobbing her head faster than the pace you’ve set. The annoyance in her eyes fading away for this hunger that you’ve caused.
And you relish in it. Your hips thrust up just as her head comes down, your moans and praises of her lips meshing with the dirty noises that she creates, pushing you further down to your end.
“Sooin–” Your head leans back, hissing in a breath when you make her take you deep, throat convulsing around you. The sheer suction makes you weak, your thighs shaking, the grip on her head loosening. Sooin takes it as a chance to pull away, and you’re already missing the warmth of her lips around you.
“Don’t tell me when,” she says, stroking you with both hands and all that spit on your length makes it feel all so much better than it should. “Just cum in my mouth whenever, alright?”
Sooin takes you back in, and it’s taking everything in your power not to cum right then and there. Her enthusiasm is starting to take control, shining in her eyes and in her actions when her pace grows feral. The squelching and sucking grows insistent, getting your legs to lock up and grow rigid around her frame.
Your hands can’t stop themselves from taking hold of her hair, your breath ragged as you thrust into her mouth. Wanting some semblance of dictating when you inevitably let your load flood her, you take the reins back from her and start to pound away at her tight, wet throat.
Stopping has left your mind; the only thing that needs to be done is feed her your cum, using her mouth as she wants you to—as much as you can for the whole thing. And that single realization gets you to emptying your seed straight into the back of Sooin’s throat.
Each single pump of your hips elicits a moan from you, her hums at every pulse of your cock vibrating around your length. She takes every shot of your cum without complaint, milking you for everything you’re worth. Swallowing it all, even when some manage to spill over, leaking down her lips as the remains of your load begin to tide over.
Sooin makes a slow journey upward, releasing you with a wet pop. “Someone was pent up,” she teases, swiping what she couldn’t swallow off her chin and thumbing it into her waiting mouth. “You made me lose my game, by the way.”
“Yeah, well,” you breathe out, watching her run her tongue across your length, cleaning up any spit and seed that’s coating your length. “Pretty sure you can win the rank back easy.”
Her eyes roll, shaking her head at you with a smile. “Sure, I can.” She taps your cock against her swollen lips, giving the head a chaste kiss. “Can I go back to playing, or do you still need me here?”
“You and your games, Sooin.” Nodding at her with a chuckle, she gives you a few taps on your thigh before she rises up from the floor. Walking away from you for the moment to wash her hands, she comes right back to lay her head on your lap, phone in her hand and continuing her game.
As if she’s ready for you to do the same thing all over again.
The next two games she played resulted in her getting a day ban from going idle too much on ranked games. You tell yourself it wasn’t your fault that it happened.
Not at all.
—
The kiddies gloves come off after that, and the both of you decided to take full advantage of the situation you’ve ended up in. Your reluctance to follow through with this whole free use bet slash arrangement’s faded, and now every waking hour or so is spent with your cock inside of Sooin in some way, shape, or form.
You were eating dinner when Sooin got on her knees to blow you under the table, making sustenance a forgotten necessity in favor of the carnal pleasures of bending her over the table and railing a load into cunt instead.
She’d be in the shower sometime after, and she’s trying to ignore the fact that you jumped in with her, wedging your cock in between her thighs. Lathering her hair up with shampoo as you thrust between the heavenly flesh that she’s blessed with. Painting the shower wall with your cum just as she starts to soap herself up, and you join her in taking a shower after.
Can’t say you two didn’t take an hour in there, considering she wanted a round getting pounded. You’re surprised that you still had hot water by the end of it.
Her bed’s been shared by the both of you by the time you two were heading to bed, Sooin making you remember just how good of a lay she was by wringing a load out of you, the view of her ass rippling as she rides you making her achieve her goal embarrassingly quickly.
And you get her back by waking her up that morning with gentle kisses planted across her neck, your hands roaming around her body and ending up between her legs, two fingers knuckle deep inside her. Getting the sheets wet and ruined by the end of it, and you two end up complaining about who’s gonna do the laundry for it (you will).
The second day was infinitely worse than the first one, when breakfast became brunch due to Sooin wanting you on your knees, eating her out as an alternative to the morning coffee you two normally make. It ends up with the two of you swapping places, using her throat and coating her face with your cum at the end of it.
In reality, it ended when she was fucking herself on your cock right next to where your coffee was brewing, back arched and bucking back against you. It left the both of you tired, and how brunch was the only thing that made the both of you pause.
Absolute fucking degenerates, and it’s only been day two out of seven.
Which was why you invited Sooin out to pay her back for everything she bought by taking her to the mall and—
“Anything I want?” She doesn’t believe you when those words come out of her mouth. Not with how ‘frugal’ you are, or however she puts it when all you actually do is build up your savings.
Excuse you for being a responsible adult.
“Within reason,” you correct, hands on your hips, stern face and all. “I’m not as rich as you are, Miss Bottega Veneta.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waves you off, already turning around and walking away from you. “Come on, I know just the place where I can mooch off you.”
“Please don’t tell me it actually is Bottega Veneta.” You can hear your bank account crying out in protest inside your wallet. Quickly catching up to her, you two walk to the elevator. “I literally can’t afford that type of thing.”
“Relax,” Sooin laughs, pressing the up button. Your eyes glance up to the top, where the arrow lights up. “We can check out the department store first. I can probably get something in your budget, you stingy fuck.”
The elevator dings open, conveniently empty. “I’m not stingy,” you refute, entering the elevator first, finger pressing the fourth floor while Sooin follows suit, leaning back against the wall. “I’m trying to budget things. You know, like any adult would?”
“Oh come on–” She’s rolling her eyes at you with a grin. “We’re in college. We can afford to not be adults sometimes.”
“You can,” you argue, hands in your pockets, turning to face her. “I’m on a scholarship and you’re rich enough to probably buy this mall.”
“Let’s not go that far.” Her tone makes you think otherwise, because for all you know she actually could right this second. Another ding rings out, and the elevator doors swing open to your floor. “Come on–” She’s hooking her arm around yours. “Let’s go, Mister Sugar Daddy.”
“What the fuck did you just call me–”
The next hour consisted of you following Sooin around, browsing through the numerous bits and bobbles, clothes and accessories, doodads and thingy-ma-jigs that get her attention. Started off with checking out a new set of tableware (which was maybe needed), to a new TV (definitely not needed), whatever new phone just released (“Sooin, you just bought a new one.”).
You end up by the mattresses, where Sooin jokingly said about buying a king size so that you two can actually fit in the bed and then some. As to which you replied by asking her how the fuck you’ll fit the damn bed into either of your rooms.
And when you start walking towards the clothing section, the oddest combination of dread and excitement settle in your body. Not because you were scared of what Sooin would choose to try out (seeing her in a bikini would be a dream come true for you) but of what she would try to pull with you knowing the bet.
Because you just know she’s going to pull some shit that might get the both of you kicked out the store and the mall.
So when she picks out a few clothes and heads to the fitting room to try them out, it’s no surprise when you get pulled into one of the stalls when no one was watching. You almost let out a yelp but her hand covering your mouth muffles the noise.
Sooin shushes you, a finger on her lips, waiting for you to show some semblance of relaxing before pulling away to close the door behind her. Hanging up the clothes on the wall rack, you were about to ask her the most obvious question on the planet, yet she speaks before you do.
“You know why I pulled you in here,” she states, pulling her jacket off and adding it to the rest of the clothes that she might not ever try out.
“In public?” Because of course you have to ask the second most obvious question.
“We have a room that can be locked and it’s big enough for two,” she answers, pushing you down to the small little chair tucked away in the corner. “Private enough for me.” She’s on her knees, fingers making quick work of your belt buckle and your zipper. One quick tug and she has your cock in her hands, at half mast and lazily stroking you with a sensual smile and a raise of her brow. “Relax, I picked the furthest room for a reason.”
“Couldn’t wait for us to get home before we do this?” It’s not a complaint so much as it is an observation. Your hands are already moving to weave through her locks when she takes you in her mouth, cock slowly growing harder in her mouth.
“We can do it quick,” she mutters, almost inaudible when her lips stay attached to you. “‘Sides, ever wanted to see ourselves fuck?”
Your eyes glance towards the wall, glass ordaining and reflecting you both; Sooin blowing you zealously, that smoky look she gives you through the mirror making you throb in her mouth. Scoffing and shaking your head, a grin begins forming in your features. “Fuck it.” You nod to the wall. “Up against the mirror, Swim.”
Sooin grins, standing up and turning around to face the mirror. Her hands rest on the wall, chest flush against it as she pushes her ass back against you, the shorts she has on pulled down to her ankles along with her underwear to show that beautiful, beautiful fit ass of hers that are paired with her toned legs that you’re wishing would be wrapped around your head again.
Oh, well. Much important matters at hand right now, such as rubbing your tip against her dripping folds. It gets her wiggling her ass back at you, Sooin’s heated gaze through the mirror telling you to hurry the fuck up and dick her down.
You’re pushing in, warm, wet heat enveloping your every inch and a soft moan escaping her lips. Letting yourself be taken away into the tight vice-lip grip she has on you until you bottom out against her the plush cushion of her ass.
Allowing yourself to take your time with her, even for just a small moment, you pull back, taking inch by inch of your shaft out of her until the very last possible moment where you could ram back in, and gasps and grunts begin filling the small space.
She grows louder first, the dirty curses and quiet gasps that can no longer be contained make you thrust faster, pound her harder until the sounds of your skin hitting hers begin to join. And even with the danger of getting caught, her eyes continue to plead with you.
More.
Your grip on her waist tightens, and you’re hammering into her without a care in the world. The sounds no longer matter to you, nor do the dangers of someone unlocking that door and finding you both.
The only thing that’s important to you is to have Sooin leaving this room satisfied and possibly unable to walk, and you’re damn well going to make sure that happens.
You reach out, a palm moving to cover her mouth as your strokes become faster, angling yourself higher to deep that spot that gets Sooin to fall apart in your arms. And you feel the change happen; her moans become loud whines, arm gripping up to yours in an attempt to hold herself together.
Yet you don’t want that. What you want is for her to become undone and flooding your cock with her juices, so you lean in close. Hot breath tickling her ear as you whisper those wants of yours and making them into reality.
She’s quivering in your grip, her eyes shutting tight as your words start to dirty her already filthy mind. “Fuck–” Her voice comes out muffled in your palm as you continue to spout out for her to cum on your cock, to make her wet the floor with how much she’d be squirting all over you.
It does a number on you too, when you feel her walls clench around you so fucking tight that every thrust is a battle of your willpower. She spurs you on, driving you forward into this animalistic urge to rut into her cunt until you spill your cum inside her.
And when her eyes snap open, you can see the need clouding them. The shrill scream that comes out of her is barely contained by your hand covering them, and she’s trembling in your arms, tightening up around your cock that the next thrust in sends you straight spiralling into your orgasm.
Each messy thrust you make spills more of your load inside her, her own dripping down her leg as you trap her between yourself and the wall. You’re leaving pecks on her neck as you fuck your cum inside her, taking your palm away from her mouth, her satisfied sighs music to your ears.
“That was–” You take a deep breath, inhaling her scent; the post-sex smell of her skin that’s bundled with the powdery notes of her perfume calming you down. “Fuck.”
“That’s what we did, yeah.” Her hand comes up to scratch the back of your head, massaging your scalp. “Still think that bet was a mistake?”
“I think we’re a little past that, Swim.” You gently remove yourself from her, and white starts to drip down her legs. “What you might want to ask yourself is if you still want to try those clothes.”
“Nah.” She pushes herself off the wall, fingers coming down to take a dollop of your cum. “Did you have to cum so much?” Even with her complaint, she’s taking it into her mouth for a taste. “Now my panties are gonna be ruined.”
You’re tucking yourself back into your trousers back up, shrugging at her. “Wonder who I have to blame for that,” you say, and that incites a chuckle out of Sooin.
“Right, my bad for wanting a quickie,” she replies, pulling her underwear and shorts back up. “I’ll be sure to tell you to cum down my throat next time so we don’t mess up more of my clothes.”
She gently shoves you away, shooing you off the stall first with a playful smirk. “Head back to the mattresses, I know what I want to get.”
“Sooin, we don’t have space for a bed.”
“Yeah, we do. We’ll just throw away our old ones.”
—
Depending on how you look at it, things either got better or worse the longer the week went on.
Nothing productive has happened inside your apartment the moment you two managed to fit a King size bed into your room, and if there was, it wasn’t for long once one of you got hold of the other.
Getting woken up every morning by her wet mouth enveloping your flaccid length, throating you until you blow a load straight down her stomach or being awake enough to pull her up and get her riding you in bed has become a daily occurrence.
Your breakfasts, lunches, and dinners all end up a messy affair, with her getting you to eat her out or you getting her on her knees after eating. Which oftentimes lead to someone getting bent over or fucked on the chair.
And don’t even get started on when it happens before you two eat. That only gets you even hungrier for food, and even more starved to continue fucking after.
The risque and riskier kinks start happening, when she gets you to plow her right in front of the apartment window, not a care in the world whether anyone sees or not. And you get right back when you get her to suck you off in the apartment stairwell after grabbing dinner outside for once.
“You know that there’s a camera watching us, right?” she asks, not a hint of concern in her face as she follows you to the letter, knees hitting the floor and hands playing with the button of your pants.
“The same camera that we’ve been telling the landlord’s broken?” Your hands pull her hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Yeah, I know.” And you’re fucking her face until you paint her pretty face in streaks of white.
Sooin’s uncaring of it in the end, your cum dripping down her face as you walk back up the steps, onto your floor and into your apartment. The sight has you immensely fucked in the head, and that gets her fucked somewhere in the apartment again.
You two just do it anywhere, everywhere. Not a single place in your apartment is unsullied, a single area in your apartment building untouched. The rooftop, the parking lot, the fucking lobby—you’re not even sure how you managed to get away with that without getting caught.
You’re sure Sooin finds ways to, of course.
The pair of you keep on going and going and going, the days blurring by full of the filthiest sex you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your dick has never felt more thankful while simultaneously begging you to take a fucking break because really, when are you not fucking Sooin nowadays?
It’s second nature at this point. Wake up, fuck, eat, fuck, take a nap, fuck, do some chores, fuck, sleep—it’s a whole process that runs on either one of you telling the other how they want to get laid, where she wants your load, why you’re asking her how foldable she is or the like.
There aren't even any sort of verbal cues anymore. Simply walk up to the other and do what sort of debauchery in mind, finish and go back to whatever it was you were doing.
That last part might need some work, considering neither of you can successfully do that.
Jerk off to her face while she’s playing another game on her phone and watch the cum splatter all over her cheek, stain her hair, have it drip down her phone and all she’ll get angry about is the last bit because she lost her game, that stress released by having her bouncing on top of you until she cums.
Sooin on the phone with one of her friends (you can’t be sure whether it’s Anna or Gawon) when she spots you walking out of your room one morning, gesturing for you to get between her legs and eat her out. You’re amazed at how composed she sounded all throughout, especially when you turn her legs into jelly at the end and the most she’s ever let out was a scream that she disguised by saying that there was a mosquito in the room.
Fucking her in an alleyway on the way home from having lunch at the local ramen shop, the sun in the air adding the high of getting caught up a notch. Getting her on her knees to swallow your load right before you two would’ve gotten caught by some random passerby.
Her getting back at you with the magical treat of her mouth, sucking you off while you drove home. Almost ended in a disaster if you hadn't pulled over in time, another batch of your cum sent straight into her gullet.
Can't go an hour go by without one of you getting handsy, and it's like an average day for you now. Part of your daily life, constantly having sex with her, being readily available to fuck and get fucked.
And to think you were against this whole thing at the start.
So when the last day comes by and you’ve fucked another load into her while she did the dishes, you’re left asking:
“What happens when we wake up tomorrow?”
Sooin pauses, blinks, shrugs. “Dunno,” she answers all casual-like. “What do you want to happen?”
It’s unfair how she leaves the ball in your court. Like she wants to hear your answer before she commits to hers, pretending to not care when she doesn’t bother to even look at you, her attention on the television playing some movie.
“Well,” you ponder, pursing your lips in thought. “We’re either gonna keep fucking or we go back to not fucking.”
“That’d be a shame.” She points the remote to the TV.
Your head turns toward her. “What would?”
“Not fucking.” The channel swaps. “We should keep it going.”
“What?” It’s the fact that she looks so unbothered that’s making you question how serious she is. You sit up straighter, entire chest tilting toward her now. “You’re serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Her knuckles rest on the side of her head. “We’d probably need to stop with the random quickies when the semester starts, and it’s not like we can’t go back to not fucking with the amount of sex we’ve had the entire week.”
Your jaw hangs low, unsure of what to say. Thanks Sooin, that’s such a good idea. Maybe we should also put a label on us too? Sounds like such an insane thing to pull, and you’ve grown quiet to the point that Sooin takes a glance at you.
“You don’t gotta say anything.” She nudges you with her elbow. “It’s a good thing we got going. Long as you’re good, I’m good.”
“And that makes us, what–” You shake your head. “Fuck buddies?”
She laughs. Says sure, it’s not like she’ll be looking for anyone else when she’s got you. Long as you don’t go looking for no Chaewon’s or Chaeyoung’s or whatever name they got she’ll be a-okay.
And you’re scoffing, smiling and agreeing to the whole thing with a kiss to her cheek; getting her to roll her eyes at you and give you another, harder nudge with her elbow.
“Okay, man,” she chuckles. “The kiss was a bit much.”
“Oh come on–” you let out a laugh. “You can take my cum on your face but you draw the line with a kiss on the cheek?”
“Well, when you put it like that–” Sooin lands her gaze on you, smile playing on her lips, mischief in her eyes. “It does sound a little stupid, doesn’t it?”
She closes the distance between you, pressing her lips against yours for a quick kiss. “Happy?”
“Yeah, Swim.” You tap your finger between your lips. “Maybe one more for good measure?”
A shove. “Don’t push it, asshole.” A beat passes. Her hands fumble around your sweatpants.
“We can do one more round for the road.”
—
When the morn comes around after a late night of getting Sooin to ruin the bedsheets again (you’ve discovered that she’s a squirter when you pound her ass up, face down), you wake up to a Sooin-less bed, and that alone gets you up and about. Spot her eating a sandwich with some strawberry jam filling, fighting to stay awake as she stares at her laptop.
Greet her a good morning and sit down next to her on the couch. “What’s got you up so early?”
“Gotta get my schedule sorted out,” she mumbles, taking another bite of her bread. “Why didn’t you tell me we already could?”
“I did.” You slide down the sofa, getting more comfortable. “Like two days ago.” You’re not about to tell her that you reminded her of it while she was getting fucked on top of the laundry machine, of course.
You know when your life is on the line.
She lets out a groan, complaining about her classes being so early, getting the shitty professors and the shitty schedule and all you can think about are her luscious thighs peeking underneath your shirt she has on.
Reaching out, fingers resting on the soft skin, caressing upwards to feel more; all to be stopped with a slap on the wrist.
“Not now, dude,” she says, her hand coming back to slide a finger across the touchpad. “I really want a decent schedule for next semester.”
You blink. Your brain catching up to what you’re body is doing and you remember:
Right. Bet’s over, no more fucking for the fun of it and all the shenanigans that it entails (shame, you’ll miss it immensely). It’ll be a smooth transition (it won’t, you’re already suffering withdrawals not being balls deep inside her right now) from not having sex all the time.)
“Alright, alright,” you relent, taking a glance at the kitchen counter. “Want some coffee?”
“Please,” she replies, making you groggily stand up to make two cups. She stops you with a glance and your name, making you turn back to her.
“Fuck me when I’m done with this?”
You chuckle, roll your eyes and wave a hand in the air.
AN: Been up for almost a month on FP, finally cross-posting this one. I'll be honest, everything is 100x easier over there, so sorry if things are delayed on Tumblr.
“What exactly are you doing up on the counter like that?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“And why exactly are you wearing shoes on there? You do realise we cook in this kitchen?”
Asa lowers her shoulders just a little, but it does so much more than a subtle movement should ever have the power to do. Now isn’t that the understatement that underpins it all. Fine details and mildly-reserved seduction cooked into the drop of a shoulder, the hike of a leg, the tilt of her hips. It’s Asa’s modus operandi, and you’re her favourite victim.
“Not like you ever cook.”
Avoiding the questions. Gaslighting. This woman has a game to play, and you’re part of it. If you were ever unwilling, you would be dragged, kicking and screaming, into it.
You are never unwilling.
"I baked you a cake."
"Yeah, well, I'm a little distracted here."
"What's distracting you?"
"Oh I don't know... Maybe my girlfriend? Up on the counter? Ass in the air and back arched, wearing some little black leather shorts?"
"Just eat the damn cake."
"I'm thinking about it."
"Yeah?" Asa shoots you a sly smile, biting on one of those long black nails in a way that communicates an opening into a mind you're all too familiar with. Devilish looks with a sinful mind - there's always something in there. "Well, I know you're a messy eater; hope you plan on cleaning up once you're finished. There's a lot of cream filling inside."
Yep, that’s something, alright.
She's doing that thing again - tugging on the little invisible string around your heart, forcing it to thump faster. You swallow thickly. You're walking closer, focusing on her lips as she speaks again.
"And, well, it is your birthday..."
Your birthday. You're too distracted by the fact she's pressing her chest to the counter, deepening the arch of her back even further and lying her face against the smooth surface. Her cute cheek squashed against the marble, dark eyelashes fluttering upwards as she looks at you through them. The way she's wiggling her hips slightly, back and forth, in those tight shorts...
"My birthday," you echo her words.
She's sliding her hand over her thigh now, fingertips pressing into the pale skin. She grips, and she squeezes and fuck -
"Mhm," she's smiling, "so you're allowed to have your...cake. Indulge a little. Eat it up."
Those catty eyes are trained on you as she presses her hand further down. You're standing at the counter now, chest heavy and struggling with each breath. A figurative growl from somewhere deep inside you as you catch her wrist, pulling it away from where it's getting dangerously close to her crotch.
"Let me." You tell her, taking in yet another shaky breath. "Let me...enjoy it how I want to."
Her eyes widen with excitement as she pushes her hips back and, fuck, that’s too hot. "That's the spirit, birthday boy. Do what you want."
"You're really the best girlfriend," you begin to tug the shorts from her hips, watching her skin rise with goosebumps as your fingertips brush over her - subtle things. "You know that?"
"Yeah, well." Asa bites her lower lip for a moment before letting it slip free. "I love spoiling you."
You pull the tight fabric over her ass and the soft flesh spills out, plump and fucking perfect.
"Your ass..." You can't help it. You have to grip it. You drag your fingertips across her skin. It's so perfectly smooth and inviting and...
Her throat rumbles with a laugh. "You act like you've never seen it before."
You dive in without thinking, lips immediately pressing to the skin, teeth grazing, tongue sneaking out to get a taste. Her little whimper makes you want more.
"I like it." You tell her against her flesh. You pepper kisses down to her thighs before pulling back. "Every time is like the first time."
"Cringe," she mocks.
"Hey, it's my birthday, remember? You can't be mean to me."
She lifts a brow. You duck your head down again, allowing your teeth to dig into the skin. Her breath hitches. You smile against her, pulling back, watching the way the spot turns a delicate pink colour. You take your time, letting your hands wander her ass, watching the way her flesh reacts. You slide your palm down her thigh, and she rolls her hips, trying to chase the touch.
"Please..." Asa's breathless, her voice filled with want, "just... eat the cake already." Her tone is playful, but there is something about the edge that makes you think she's really trying to hold back. That she wants you more than she's letting on.
"It looks so pretty." Your fingers move, sliding over her bare pussy, just peeking through the gap at the top of her thighs. You prod your fingertips inside, finding her wet already. Of course she is. Then there's the moan.
Asa's moans - you could wax lyrical about them. You could write sonnets and songs and poetry about them. You want to record them sometimes, just so you can listen back whenever you want, but then you remember just how easy it is to elicit new ones. There's always something so playful about them, even when they're low and gravelly. It's like she's laughing a little as she moans, like she's having so much damn fun.
You place a hand on each cheek. Your birthday cake, in all its glory, is laid out on the counter for you. You lean in, dragging your tongue up from her slit and resting your face between those pert little cheeks.
Fuck, she's sweet - sweeter than the cake you're ignoring, and she smells so good. Her whole body just has this way of making you want to bury your face into any part of her that you can and just melt away into her.
You're tasting her sinful little hole, ass pressed back against your face, and her moans are growing louder. You're swirling your tongue against her. Her fingers grip at the edge of the counter, and she's pushing back more and more.
Eating her ass is one of your favourite things in the world. In part because of her reaction, which is always perfect, and partly because of her taste. The way she wriggles and tries to control it and can't help but just give in to the pleasure of it all. You're rock hard already, and your cock is pressing against your pants.
You pull back, taking a moment to grip her cheeks and watch them spread, spitting on her hole, watching the way her body shivers. You press your thumb to it, and it succumbs to the pressure, swallowing it whole.
Her moans are endless, and she's trying to roll her hips, to fuck back against your finger. You work your thumb inside, and she reacts in all those dirty little ways you can never forget. Her whole body is shivering, and it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life (and Asa has given you a whole catalogue to choose from).
"Oh my god," her voice is strained, "please, just... My ass... Oh..."
You have to bite back your laugh, simply because you can't help but find her so endearing. Her cheeks are flushed, and you know if you could see her face it would be bright red. Her hair is damp at the temples with sweat. You move your thumb in and out of her slowly.
"Please what, babe?" You ask.
She's burying her face into the marble; it’s a ridiculous thing to try, but this girl is so used to being face down in the bed that muscle memory kicks in when the brain goes to mush. "Don't make me say it."
You use your free hand to smack her ass, just once. She whimpers. "Say it."
"No!" She huffs. There's a moment of silence where you keep fucking her with your thumb. You hear her suck her teeth. Finally, she relents. "Eat my ass and make me cum. Please."
You let out a knowing laugh. "Good girl."
You're not sure what you enjoy more: making her cum or making her beg. You lean in again - another taste. Her back arches beautifully. Your cock is aching. You work your mouth against her over and over.
You press your middle finger against her cunt, sliding it inside with no resistance. She's gripping it as her wetness leaks down your hand. The moans are getting out of control, her body shuddering and jerking. You feel her tighten around your finger.
"Already?" you ask, and she does not like that.
Asa pushes her face up and off the counter, her whole body trembling. "You're just... fucking good."
That makes you grin. You press your finger deeper, curling it in her, and she's practically screeching now, and despite the description, it’s a blessing to hear. You keep your mouth buried against her asshole, fucking her with your finger, picking up speed. Your cock is straining in your pants, your balls aching. You can't wait to slide your dick into her, which is utterly relatable.
"Oh my god," she's panting hard, her fingers straining where she grips the counter, "oh my god, oh my god... Yes, right there, right fucking there! Don't stop, don't stop..."
It's when she starts cumming that you start lapping up all the cream, sucking her into your mouth. Her pussy is pulsing around your finger. You hear her hit the counter with a dull thud, and it's followed by her hitting her open palm against it repeatedly.
"So good," her voice is a breathy whine, "so, so good."
You keep moving your finger inside her until the fluttering stops, her whole body relaxing into the counter. You pull back and look at the mess you've made. A sheen of sweat on her skin. Her cheeks red from the way you've so roughly spread them.
"Happy birthday to me," you say, as you unbutton your pants.
There's a little chuckle from Asa. She turns her head, her eyes slightly glazed. "That good, huh?"
"You have no idea," you take your cock out, sighing with relief, "can't wait to sink into you."
Jaebin carried the last cardboard box up the narrow stairs and pushed open the door to room 403 with his shoulder.
The apartment smelled fresh, small, one room plus a tiny kitchen and bathroom, but it was his.
No parents nagging about dishes, no little sister stealing his snacks. Just him, a single bed, a cheap desk, and one window that looked out at the train tracks.
He dropped the box with a thud and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Finally,” he muttered.
The moving company guys had already left. Jaebin stood in the middle of the empty space, breathing hard. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Mom: Did you arrive safely? Eat something. Don’t skip dinner just because you’re excited.
He typed back fast: Yeah, I’m good. Unpacking now. Love you.
He turned the phone face down on the desk and started opening boxes. Clothes first, then the rice cooker his mom forced him to take, then books and his old gaming laptop.
He was halfway through sorting socks when someone knocked on the door. Three quick taps.
Jaebin froze. He wasn’t expecting anyone.
He walked over and opened the door a crack.
Standing there was a girl. Long dark hair tied in a loose, white t-shirt stretched tight across her chest, denim shorts, and a friendly but slightly tired smile. She held a small paper bag in one hand and a plastic bottle of barley tea in the other.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Jihyo. From 402, right next door.”
Jaebin blinked. “Oh. Uh… hi. I’m Jaebin. Just moved in today.”
“I know.” She laughed a little. “I heard every time you dropped something.”
Jaebin’s face went red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be loud.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I was actually waiting for you to finish so I could say welcome.” She lifted the paper bag. “I brought red bean buns. Fresh from the bakery downstairs. And this tea. Moving is hot work.”
Jaebin stared at the bag, “You didn’t have to…”
“I wanted to. New neighbors are rare here.” She tilted her head. “Can I come in for a second? Or is it too messy?”
He stepped back fast. “It’s messy, but… yeah, come in.”
Jihyo walked inside and looked around. “Wow. You work fast. Most guys would just leave boxes everywhere for a week.”
“I hate living out of boxes,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Feels like I’m still homeless.”
She nodded like she understood. “Smart. I like that.” She set the bag and tea on the tiny kitchen counter. “So, college? Work? Or…?”
“Just graduated high school. Taking a gap year. Maybe find a part-time job soon. I didn’t want to stay home doing nothing.”
Jihyo leaned against the counter. Her shirt pulled tighter when she crossed her arms. Jaebin tried very hard to keep his eyes on her face.
“Gap year is brave,” she said. “Most people just rush into university because they’re scared to stop. What do you want to do?”
“I… don’t know yet.” He laughed awkwardly. “Maybe game design? Or just anything that pays enough so I don’t go back home in shame.”
Jihyo smiled wider. “Honest. I like that too.”
She opened the paper bag and pulled out two red bean buns wrapped in wax paper. “Here. Eat one while it’s still warm.”
Jaebin took it, “Thanks,” he said quietly.
They stood there eating in silence for a moment. The bun was soft, sweet, still warm. Jaebin realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Jihyo finished hers first and wiped her hands on her shorts. “Okay, I should let you unpack. But… quick question.”
“Yeah?”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen. Just turned in May.”
She nodded slowly. “Nineteen. Cute.”
Jaebin almost choked on the last bite. “C-cute?”
Jihyo laughed, covering her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. You just look… fresh? Like you haven’t been ruined by the world yet.” She waved her hand. “Don’t mind me. I’m twenty-seven. Been working full-time for three years. I forget how young nineteen sounds.”
She turned toward the door, then stopped. “Oh, one more thing.”
Jaebin looked up.
“This building,” she said, lowering her voice a little, “has kind of a… reputation. Not bad reputation. Just… lively. A lot of girls live here. Nine of us, actually, including me. All on the fourth floor.”
“Nine?” Jaebin’s brain short-circuited for a second.
“Yeah. We call it Paizuri Apartment. Not officially, of course. Just between us.”
Jaebin stared. “Paizuri…?”
She grinned like she was sharing a secret. “Don’t google it. You’ll only find weird stuff, you know what I mean.”
He swallowed. “I… uh… yeah. I know.”
“We’re not scary, I promise. Just… friendly. Very friendly. If you ever need sugar, or help with the washing machine, or just someone to talk to at 2 a.m. because you can’t sleep, knock on any door on this floor. We don’t bite. Maybe.”
Jaebin’s heart was hammering so loud, “Okay,” he managed.
Jihyo reached out and patted his shoulder once. Her hand was warm. “Welcome to the fourth floor, Jaebin. See you around.”
She opened the door and stepped out.
“Wait,” he said suddenly.
She turned back, one eyebrow raised.
“Um… thank you. For the buns. And the tea. And… coming to say hi.”
Jihyo’s smile softened. “Anytime.”
The door clicked shut.
Jaebin stood there for a full minute, staring at the closed door. His face felt hot. His chest felt tight. He looked down at the half-eaten bun still in his hand, then at the empty space where Jihyo had been standing.
“Nine girls,” he whispered to himself. “All on this floor.”
He walked to the window and looked out at the train passing by. The sun was already going down. Orange light came through the glass and painted the floor.
He laughed once, short and nervous.
“What the hell did I just move into?”
Jaebin finished unpacking the last box around 8 PM.
His stomach growled loud. The red bean bun from Jihyo was nice, but it wasn’t dinner.
He checked his wallet—enough for a triangle kimbap and maybe a canned coffee.
He grabbed his keys, slipped on sneakers, and headed out.
The hallway light flickered once when he passed. Thin carpet, pale yellow walls, the faint smell of someone’s instant ramen drifting under a door. He walked toward the elevator.
As he pressed the down button, the door 405 opened.
A girl stepped out. Short black hair with blue tips, oversized hoodie that still couldn’t hide how full her chest was, black leggings, white sneakers. She had earbuds in one ear and was scrolling on her phone with her thumb. She looked up, saw Jaebin, and pulled the earbud out.
“Oh. New guy,” she said. Voice a little rough, like she hadn’t talked in a while.
Jaebin nodded. “Yeah. Jaebin. 403.”
“Yel.” She gave a small wave. “405. You going down?”
“Yeah. Convenience store. Hungry.”
“Same.” She slipped the phone into her hoodie pocket. “Mind if I walk with you? I was just gonna grab air anyway. Been staring at my screen for six hours straight.”
“Sure,” Jaebin said. He tried not to stare at how the hoodie zipper strained a little when she moved.
The elevator dinged. They stepped in. It was small—barely enough room for two people without touching. Yel leaned against the wall opposite him, arms crossed under her chest. Jaebin looked at the floor numbers.
“So,” she said after the doors closed. “You just graduated?”
“Yeah. High school. Moved here today.”
“Big step. Most guys your age would still be at home playing games and eating mom’s food.”
Jaebin laughed once. “That was the plan until I decided I didn’t want to be that guy.”
Yel nodded. “Respect. I moved out at nineteen too. Freelance illustrator now. Pays okay if I don’t sleep.”
“You draw for a living?”
“Mostly webtoons, some album covers, random commissions. Deadlines are evil, though.” She rubbed her eyes. “That’s why I need air. My room smells like coffee and regret.”
The elevator hit ground floor. Doors opened. Cool night air rushed in from the lobby. They walked out together.
The convenience store was only a five-minute walk—bright lights, glass doors, the usual 7-Eleven sign glowing yellow and green. A few cars passed slowly.
Yel pulled her hood up against the breeze. “So what’s your plan? Job? School? Or just… existing?”
“Gap year. Probably get a part-time somewhere soon. Café maybe. Or delivery. Something easy.”
“Easy is good at first,” she said. “Don’t burn out. I learned that the hard way. Worked sixteen-hour days for three months straight last year. Almost ended up in the hospital.”
“Damn.”
“Slower pace these days. More coffee, less panic.” She glanced at him sideways. “You look like the type who overthinks everything.”
Jaebin raised an eyebrow. “That obvious?”
“Very. Your shoulders are up to your ears right now.”
He forced them down. “Habit.”
They reached the store. Automatic doors whooshed open.
Yel grabbed a basket. “I’m getting ramyeon and a choco pie. You?”
“Triangle kimbap. Maybe hot bar chicken.”
They split up for a minute. Jaebin picked tuna mayo kimbap and two pieces of fried chicken on a stick. Yel came back with spicy ramyeon cup, a banana milk, and two choco pies.
At the counter, the part-time guy—older, bored—scanned everything without looking up.
Yel paid first. She pulled out her card, then paused. “Hey, new guy. Want me to add your stuff? My treat. Welcome tax.”
Jaebin shook his head fast. “No, no, I can—”
“Too late.” She tapped her card again before he could argue. “Done.”
The cashier handed her the receipt. Yel grabbed both bags and nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s eat outside. My room’s too hot and my brain needs to shut off.”
They walked to the small bench in front of the store. Plastic table, two chairs, cigarette butts on the ground. Not fancy, but it had a streetlamp shining right on it.
Yel sat first, crossed her legs. Jaebin sat across from her and opened his kimbap.
She tore the lid off her ramyeon cup, poured hot water from the dispenser inside the store, and put the lid back on. “Three minutes,” she said. “Perfect timer.”
Jaebin bit into the kimbap. Rice, tuna, mayo, seaweed. Simple, good.
Yel watched him eat for a second. “You’re quiet.”
“Still processing the day,” he admitted. “Moved in, met Jihyo next door, now you. Feels fast.”
Yel smirked. “Jihyo-unnie already got to you, huh?”
“She brought red bean buns.”
“Of course she did. She’s the welcome committee. Sweet like that.” Yel stirred her ramyeon with chopsticks. Steam rose up. “She tell you about the floor yet?”
“Yeah. Nine girls. Paizuri Apartment.”
Yel laughed—short, real. “God, that name. We were drunk when we came up with it. Now it stuck.”
She looked at him straight. “You freaked out yet?”
“A little,” he said honestly. “Not bad freaked out. Just… didn’t expect it.”
She took a sip of banana milk. “We’re not a cult or anything. Just… ended up here one by one. Good rent, close to stations, and we all get along. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Drama happens. Small floor, thin walls. But nothing crazy.” She paused. “You’ll meet the rest soon enough. They’re curious about you already.”
Jaebin swallowed. “They know I moved in?”
“Jihyo-unnie texted the group chat five minutes after she left your room. ‘New neighbor. Boy. Nineteen. Cute. Be nice.’”
Yel opened one choco pie and broke it in half. She held out a piece. “Here. Sugar helps with shock.”
He took it. They ate in quiet for a bit. Cars passed. A train rumbled in the distance.
Yel finished her ramyeon, crushed the cup, and leaned back. “Okay. Real talk. You single?”
Jaebin almost dropped his chicken stick. “Uh… yeah. Why?”
“Just checking. Some guys move here thinking it’s paradise, then get weird when girls actually talk to them. I like to know upfront.”
“I’m not… weird,” he said. “I think.”
“Good.” She stood up, stretched. Her hoodie rode up a little, showing a strip of stomach. Jaebin looked away fast.
“I should head back. Got a deadline at midnight.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the food. And… walking together.”
Yel shrugged. “Anytime. If you hear screaming from 405 at 3 a.m., it’s just me arguing with my tablet. Don’t call the cops.”
He grins.
She started walking back toward the apartment. Jaebin grabbed the trash and followed a step behind.
At the elevator, she pressed 4. Doors closed.
“Hey,” she said suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“If you can’t sleep tonight… knock on my door. I’m usually up late. We can share coffee or just sit in silence. No pressure.”
Jaebin nodded slowly. “Okay.”
The elevator dinged. Fourth floor.
Yel stepped out first. “Night, Jaebin.”
“Night, Yel.”
She walked to 405, gave a small salute without turning around, and disappeared inside.
Jaebin stood in the hallway alone for a second. His heart was beating fast again.
He opened his own door, stepped in, locked it.
11:17 PM.
Jaebin was lying on his bed in just boxers and a loose t-shirt, scrolling through his phone with the lights off except for the screen glow. He was tired from unpacking but wired. Too much newness in one day.
His eyes were starting to close when three soft knocks came at the door.
Not loud. Not angry. Just… there.
Jaebin sat up fast. Heart jumped.
“Who…?” he called quietly.
A woman’s voice answered from the other side. Low, smooth, a little husky from the day.
“It’s Eunbi. From 408. Sorry it’s late.”
He scrambled off the bed, pulled on his shorts, checked his hair in the dark mirror by reflex. Then he opened the door a crack.
Eunbi stood in the hallway light.
Long black hair still perfect even after a full day, slight wave at the ends.
Black blazer open over a white blouse that hugged every curve—especially the heavy swell of her breasts pushing against the buttons like they were fighting to get free. Pencil skirt tight on her hips, black stockings, low heels.
She carried a plastic bag from the chicken place two blocks away. Smelled like fried skin and garlic soy.
She smiled. Small, tired, but warm. And something else underneath. Something hungry.
“Hey, new kid,” she said. “Heard you moved in. Thought you might be hungry.”
Jaebin blinked. “Uh… hi. Yeah. I mean—thanks. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” She lifted the bag a little. Steam still coming off it. “Half yangnyeom, half garlic. Extra spicy because I like it that way. Figured you might too.”
He stepped back. “Come in. It’s… not much, but.”
Eunbi walked past him. Her perfume hit him—something expensive, warm, like vanilla and smoke. She looked around the room, eyes scanning the bare walls, the single bed, the unpacked lamp still in its box.
“Fresh start,” she said, almost to herself. “I remember that feeling.”
She set the bag on the tiny kitchen counter, turned, and leaned back against it. The movement made her blazer fall open more. Jaebin’s eyes flicked down for half a second—couldn’t help it—then snapped back to her face.
She noticed. Didn’t say anything. Just smiled a little wider.
“You’re Jaebin, right? Nineteen?”
“Yeah.”
“Eunbi. Thirty.” She said the number like it was nothing. Thirty years old, but she didn’t look it the way most thirty-year-olds did. “I work at a marketing agency downtown. Long hours. Late nights. Tonight was one of those.”
“You just got home?”
“Fifteen minutes ago. Saw your light under the door. Figured I’d say hi before I crash.”
She reached into the bag, pulled out the chicken box, opened it. The smell filled the room instantly. “Eat with me? I hate eating alone after a day like today.”
Jaebin nodded. “Sure. Let me grab plates.”
“No need.” She pulled out two pairs of disposable chopsticks from the bag. “We can share straight from the box. Less dishes.”
They sat on the floor because the bed felt too weird and there was only one chair. Back against the bed frame, legs stretched out. The chicken was hot, crispy, sauce sticky on fingers. Jaebin took a piece—yangnyeom first. Burned his tongue a little because of the spicy.
Eunbi ate slower. Watched him more than she ate.
“You’re quiet,” she said after a minute.
“I'm eating! But yeah... still taking everything in.”
She laughed softly. “This place does that. Hits you all at once.” She licked a bit of sauce off her thumb.
“You met Jihyo already?”
“Yeah. This afternoon.”
“And Yel?”
“Tonight. Walked to the store.”
Eunbi nodded. “They’re sweet. Young energy. Me… I’m the old one.” She said it with a small shrug, but her eyes said the opposite. “Been here four years. Seen boys come and go.”
“Boys?”
“Neighbors. Roommates. Boyfriends of other girls. Some stay. Most don’t.” She took another piece of chicken, bit into it, chewed slowly. “You planning to stay?”
“I… yeah. Signed for a year.”
“Good.” She looked at him straight. “We like boys who stay.”
Jaebin swallowed hard. The chicken suddenly tasted like nothing.
Eunbi wiped her hands on a napkin, then leaned back on her palms. The blouse pulled tight across her chest. Buttons looked ready to pop. She didn’t fix it.
“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” she said quietly.
“I’m not—”
“You are.” She tilted her head. “It’s okay. I like it.”
Silence stretched. Not uncomfortable. Heavy.
She spoke again. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Jaebin. I came here with chicken, but that’s not the only reason.”
His heart slammed against his ribs.
She kept going, voice low. “I had a shitty day. Boss blown up, clients changing their minds every hour, heels killing my feet. I get home, shower, change… and all I can think about is how long it’s been since someone touched me like they meant it.”
Jaebin couldn’t breathe right.
Eunbi looked at him. No shame. Just want.
“I’m not asking for forever,” she said. “Just tonight. If you want.”
He stared at her. The way her lips were parted a little. The way her chest rose and fell faster now. The way she didn’t look away.
“I…” His voice cracked. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She reached over, slow, and brushed her fingers along his arm. Light. Testing. “Just nod if you want me to stay. Or tell me to go. No hard feelings.”
Jaebin’s mouth was dry.
He looked at her hand on his arm. Then up at her face. Then down again—at the way her skirt had ridden up just enough to show more thigh.
He nodded once. Small. But clear.
Eunbi’s smile changed. Softer, but sharper too.
“Good boy,” she whispered.
She moved closer. Knees touching now. She leaned in, slow enough he could stop her if he wanted.
He didn’t.
Her lips brushed his. Soft at first. Then deeper. She tasted like garlic soy and heat. Her hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers in his hair. Pulling him closer.
Jaebin’s hands found her waist. Hesitant. Then firmer.
She made a small sound against his mouth. Almost a moan.
When she pulled back, her eyes were dark.
“Bed?” she asked. Voice rough.
“Yeah.”
She stood first. Offered her hand. He took it.
She led him the three steps to the mattress. Pushed him down gently. Then climbed on top, straddling his hips.
Her blazer hit the floor. Blouse buttons came undone one by one. Slow. Teasing.
Jaebin watched, heart racing, hands shaking a little on her thighs.
Eunbi leaned down, lips near his ear.
“Relax,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Her breasts pressed against his chest through the thin fabric left. Heavy. Warm. She rocked her hips once—slow grind.
Jaebin groaned low in his throat.
She smiled against his neck. “That’s it.”
Eunbi’s blouse was gone now, tossed somewhere near the foot of the bed. Her black lace bra looked expensive—thin straps digging into soft shoulders, cups barely containing her.
She reached behind her back with one smooth motion. The clasp popped open. Fabric fell away.
Jaebin’s breath caught hard.
Her breasts were heavy, full, pale skin. Nipples dark and already tight. She didn’t cover up. Just let him look.
“Like what you see?” she asked, voice low and teasing.
He could only nod. Words were gone.
Eunbi smiled—slow, knowing. She slid down his body until she was kneeling between his legs. Her hands found the waistband of his shorts and boxers together. She tugged them down in one pull. His cock sprang free, already hard, tip shiny.
She wrapped her fingers around him once, loose, testing. Jaebin hissed through his teeth.
“Sensitive,” she murmured. “Good.”
She leaned forward. Pressed her breasts together with both arms. The soft weight enveloped him completely—warm, smooth, tight in the best way. She looked up at him through her lashes.
“First time someone’s done this for you?”
Jaebin swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Thought so.” She started moving—slow slide up, slow slide down.
The friction was perfect, slick from a little spit she let drip between her cleavage first. “Just relax. Let me take care of it.”
He tried. He really tried.
Her movements were steady at first. Controlled. Every time the head of his cock disappeared between her tits, she squeezed a little harder. Then released on the way up. Jaebin’s hands fisted the sheets. His hips twitched without permission.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Eunbi laughed softly. The sound vibrated through her chest, right into him.
“You’re doing good,” she said. “Hold on a little longer if you can.”
But he couldn’t.
The sight of her—hair falling over one shoulder, lips parted, eyes locked on his face while her breasts worked him—was too much. The heat, the softness, the way she looked like she was enjoying it just as much as he was. It built too fast.
“Eunbi—I’m—” His voice cracked. “Gonna—”
“Go ahead,” she whispered. “Right here. Let it happen.”
She sped up just a fraction. Pressed tighter. One hand came up to cup the underside of her own breast, pushing them together even more.
Jaebin’s back arched off the mattress. A low groan ripped out of him.
He came hard—thick ropes spilling across the tops of her breasts, dripping down into the valley between them. Pulse after pulse. His whole body shook with it.
Eunbi didn’t stop moving until he was empty. Then she slowed, milking the last few drops with gentle squeezes. When he finally went soft against her skin, she let go.
Eunbi sat back on her heels. Looked down at the mess he’d made on her chest. She dragged one finger through it—slow—then brought it to her lips and licked it clean. Like it was nothing.
Jaebin stared. Brain still rebooting.
She noticed his expression and laughed—real, warm, a little wicked.
“Surprised?” she asked.
“Yeah. I lasted like… thirty seconds.”
“Fifteen,” she corrected gently. “But who’s counting?”
He covered his face with both hands. “God. That’s embarrassing.”
“No.” Eunbi leaned over him, breasts still glistening, brushing his stomach as she got close. “It’s honest. I like honest.” She kissed his forehead once. Soft. “You were wound up all day. New place, new girls, new everything. Of course you popped fast.”
Jaebin peeked through his fingers. “You’re not… mad?”
“Why would I be mad?” She sat beside him now, one leg tucked under her. “I came here to feel good. You just gave me exactly that. Watching you lose it like that? Hot as hell.”
She reached over, wiped a bit more of his cum off her skin with her finger, then wiped it on the inside of her discarded blouse like it was a napkin. “But tonight’s just this. Titfuck only. No more.”
Jaebin blinked. “Wait… what?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not ready to go all the way yet. Not on night one. I wanted to tease you. Feel you throb between my tits. See your face when you couldn’t hold back. That’s enough for me tonight. Makes me feel powerful. Knowing I can make you come that fast just from my chest. Knowing you’ll be thinking about it every time you see me in the hallway.”
Jaebin groaned again—this time half-embarrassed, half-turned on all over.
Eunbi stood up. Picked up her bra, slipped it back on without cleaning herself first. The lace stuck a little to the wet skin. She didn’t care. Buttoned two buttons on her blouse—enough to cover, but anyone looking close would know.
She walked to the tiny bathroom, wet a tissue, wiped her chest properly this time. Then came back, sat on the edge of the bed.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Just… processing.”
“Good.” She touched his cheek once. Thumb stroking lightly. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Nine girls on this floor, remember? They’re gonna start circling.”
Jaebin laughed weakly. “I’m already dead.”
She walked to the door.
“Eunbi?”
She paused, hand on the knob.
“Thanks,” he said. “For… everything.”
She looked back. Smiled “Anytime, honey.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Jaebin lay there in the quiet.
He stared at the ceiling. Fifteen seconds.
Tomorrow was going to be insane.
But tonight?
Tonight, he’d survived Eunbi.
Barely.
Jaebin’s alarm went off at 6:30 AM
He slapped it quiet before it could wake the whole floor. His body felt heavy. Last night replayed in flashes— he groaned into the pillow.
“Get up,” he told himself out loud. “You promised.”
Back home, he’d told his mom he was moving out to be independent.
Part of that promise was no more lazy mornings. He’d start jogging every day. Build habits. Not turn into the guy who gains twenty kilos living alone on instant noodles.
He rolled out of bed. Brushed teeth. Pulled on gray sweatpants, a black hoodie, old running shoes. Looked in the mirror—hair messy, eyes a little red, but alive.
“Okay. You got this.”
He grabbed his phone, earbuds, keys. Opened the door quietly.
And almost walked straight into Eunbi.
She was right there in the hallway, locking 408. Black pencil skirt again, white blouse tucked in tight, blazer over one arm, heels clicking softly as she turned. Hair pulled back in a neat low bun. Makeup perfect. Coffee thermos in one hand.
She froze when she saw him. Then her lips curved—slow, private smile.
“Morning, Jaebin.”
His face went hot in half a second. “M-morning.”
She stepped closer. Close enough he could smell her perfume again—same one from last night. Vanilla and smoke. It hit him like a memory punch.
“You’re up early,” she said. Voice low so it wouldn’t carry.
“Jogging. Promised myself I’d… start working out. Live alone and all.”
Eunbi’s eyes flicked down his body—hoodie, sweatpants, sneakers—then back up. “Good boy. Discipline looks good on you.”
Jaebin swallowed. “You… going to work?”
“Early meeting. Boss wants reports before the rest of the office wakes up.” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. The movement made her blouse pull tight across her chest.
“Sleep okay?” she asked, innocent tone.
“Yeah. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” She stepped even closer. Her free hand brushed his sleeve—just a graze. “Dream about anything fun?”
He couldn’t look at her eyes. Stared at her collarbone instead. “Maybe.”
Eunbi laughed under her breath. Soft. “Thought so.” She leaned in, lips near his ear. “Next time… maybe I won’t stop at just my tits.”
Jaebin’s knees almost buckled.
She pulled back like nothing happened. “Have a good run. Don’t trip thinking about me.”
She walked past him toward the elevator. He stood there frozen until the doors dinged shut.
“Fuck,” he whispered to the empty hallway.
He shook his head hard, jogged down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. Needed the extra burn.
Outside, the air was cool in the city, not freezing. Streets still quiet. A few delivery bikes zooming by.
Jaebin started slow—jog down the block, past the convenience store where he’d gone with Yel last night, past the small park with the broken benches.
He was on his second lap around the park when he heard footsteps behind him. Steady. Matching his pace.
He glanced over.
Yel.
Hair tied up in a high ponytail today. Black sports bra that left nothing to imagination—her chest bouncing with each step—gray tank top loose over it, black running shorts, sneakers. Earbuds in, but she pulled one out when she caught up.
“New guy,” she said, breathing even. “Didn’t expect company.”
Jaebin slowed a little so they could talk. “You jog too?”
“Every morning I don’t pull an all-nighter. Clears my head. You?”
“First day trying. Promised myself no slacking.”
Yel nodded. “Respect. Most guys say that then quit after three days.”
“I’m not most guys,” he said.
She smirked. “We’ll see.”
They kept pace together. Not racing—just steady. The park loop was maybe 800 meters. Trees bare, leaves crunching underfoot. Sun coming up stronger now, turning everything gold.
After the first full loop, Yel spoke again. “You look… distracted.”
Jaebin almost tripped. “What?”
“Your form’s off. Shoulders tight. Like you’re carrying something heavy.”
He laughed awkwardly. “Just… new place. New everything.”
“Uh-huh.” She side-eyed him. “Or maybe you ran into Eunbi in the hallway?”
His foot caught a crack in the pavement. He stumbled, caught himself.
Yel laughed—short, real. “Knew it. She’s got that effect.”
“She just… said hi. Going to work.”
“Sure she did.” Yel sped up a tiny bit. Jaebin matched her. “She knock on your door last night?”
Jaebin’s face burned again. “Yeah.”
Yel didn’t push. Just kept running. “She’s intense. But good intense. Don’t overthink it.”
“I’m trying.”
They did another lap in silence. Breathing harder now. Sweat starting on his forehead. Yel’s tank top stuck a little to her skin. Her sports bra did nothing to hide how full she was—bouncing with every step. Jaebin forced his eyes forward.
After the third loop, Yel slowed to a walk. Hands on hips. Breathing deep.
“Cool down?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
They walked the last stretch side by side. Park emptying out a little.
Yel wiped sweat from her neck with the hem of her tank. Flash of stomach. Jaebin looked away fast.
“So,” she said. “How was night one? Survive?”
“Barely.”
She grinned. “Eunbi?”
He nodded once.
“Figured. She’s been… restless lately. Work stress. She picks someone to blow off steam with. You’re fresh meat.”
Jaebin rubbed the back of his neck. “She didn’t… we didn’t go all the way. Just…”
Yel raised an eyebrow. “Just?”
He hesitated. Then muttered, “Titjob.”
Yel stopped walking. Looked at him. Then burst out laughing—loud enough a pigeon flew away.
“Oh my god,” she said, still laughing. “Fifteen seconds?”
Jaebin groaned. “She told you?”
“No. But I know her. And I know that look on your face.” She punched his arm lightly. “Don’t be embarrassed. She’s good at that. Really good. Most guys don’t last longer the first time.”
“Still embarrassing.”
“Honest is hot.” She started walking again. “She’ll probably tease you for weeks now. But in a good way.”
They reached the apartment entrance. Both breathing hard, shirts damp.
Yel stopped at the door. “Hey. Same time tomorrow?”
Jaebin nodded. “Yeah. If I don’t die first.”
“You won’t.” She pulled her ponytail tighter. “And if you need to talk about… whatever happens next on this floor… my door’s open. Late nights, remember?”
“Thanks, Yel.”
She gave a small salute. “See you, runner boy.”
She disappeared inside first.
Jaebin stood there a second, maybe minutes. Minding his mind to keep it together, facing whatever things would happen this day.
He finally pushed through the lobby door, wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his hoodie and headed straight for the elevator. Pressed the up button. Doors opened almost right away—empty. Lucky.
He stepped in, leaned against the back wall, and hit 4. The doors started closing slow.
Halfway shut, a hand shot out to stop them.
The doors bounced back open.
And Jaebin turned just in time to walk face-first into soft, warm pressure.
His nose and cheek smooshed right into the biggest, softest pair of breasts he’d ever felt in his life.
He froze. Completely. Couldn’t even pull back right away because the elevator was still small and she was filling most of the doorway.
“Oh my god—sorry! Are you hurt?”
The voice was soft. Gentle. Almost baby-like, but deeper, like someone who spoke quietly on purpose.
Jaebin stumbled back one step, face flaming. “N-no! I’m fine! I’m the one who—sorry!”
He finally looked up.
Chaeyeon.
Twenty-three, but her face looked younger—round cheeks, big doe eyes, small nose, lips naturally pink and full. Cute in that innocent way that made you want to protect her. Except her body was anything but innocent.
Tall—maybe 170 cm—wide shoulders, thick thighs in black leggings, oversized white t-shirt that did zero to hide how massive her chest was. Bigger than Yel’s. Bigger than Jihyo’s. Bigger even than Eunbi’s.
She had one hand still holding the door open, the other clutching a tote bag full of what looked like groceries—bananas, a carton of milk, a bag of rice cakes.
“I didn’t see you turning,” she said, voice still soft, worried. “Are you okay? Your face hit pretty hard.”
Jaebin rubbed his nose. It didn’t hurt. Just… stunned. “Yeah, I’m good. Really. My fault. I was spacing out.”
Chaeyeon stepped fully inside now. The elevator doors finally closed behind her. She pressed 4 too, even though it was already lit.
She looked down at him, “You’re the new guy, right? Jaebin?”
“Yeah. Moved in yesterday.”
She smiled—small, shy, but real. Dimples appeared. “I’m Chaeyeon. 406. I heard about you from Jihyo last night. She said you’re nice.”
Jaebin laughed once, nervous. “She said that?”
“Mhm. And that you blush easy.” Chaeyeon tilted her head. “She wasn’t wrong.”
His ears burned hotter. “I… yeah. Guilty.”
The elevator hummed upward. Slow. Too slow.
Chaeyeon shifted her tote to the other arm. The movement made her chest jiggle—once, heavy, impossible to ignore. Jaebin’s eyes flicked down for half a second then snapped back to the floor numbers.
She noticed. Didn’t say anything about it. Just spoke softer.
“You were jogging?”
“Yeah. Trying to start a routine. Don’t want to get lazy living alone.”
“That’s good.” She nodded seriously. “I like morning walks. Not running—my knees complain—but walking helps me think. I’m a barista. Early shifts. I walk to the café sometimes instead of taking the bus.”
“Which café?”
“Little one near the station. The one with the cat logo. I make the lattes.”
“I’ll have to stop by sometime.”
“You should.” Her smile got a little bigger. “I can make yours extra pretty. Hearts in the foam and everything.”
Jaebin smiled back, “Sounds good.”
The elevator dinged. Fourth floor.
Doors opened.
Chaeyeon stepped out first. Jaebin followed.
She turned toward 406. Paused. Looked back at him.
“Hey… um…”
“Yeah?”
“If your nose really hurts later… or if you just want ice or something… knock on my door, okay? I have a freezer full of gel packs. And cookies. Fresh ones. I baked last night.”
Jaebin blinked. “You bake too?”
“Mhm. Stress baking. Helps me relax after long shifts.” She hugged the tote closer to her chest—again, the shirt stretched. Jaebin tried very hard to keep eye contact. “So… yeah. Door’s always open. I forget to lock it sometimes.”
“That’s… not safe.”
“I know.” She laughed quietly. “But the girls on this floor look out for each other. And now you too, I guess.”
Jaebin nodded slowly. “Thanks, Chaeyeon.”
She gave a little wave—fingers wiggling cute. “See you around, Jaebin. Careful with doors next time.”
She walked to 406. Unlocked it with one hand. Glanced back once more—smile soft, eyes warm—then disappeared inside.
Jaebin stood there for a second. Hallway quiet except for the faint sound of music from someone’s room. Probably Yel again.
He touched his nose. Still no pain. Just the memory of softness pressing against his face.
“God,” he muttered under his breath. “They keep getting bigger.”
He walked the few steps to 403. Unlocked his door. Stepped in.
Closed it.
Leaned against the wood for a second.
Jaebin had just finished a quick lunch—ramyeon from the cupboard, one egg cracked in, green onion he’d chopped with a dull knife.
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the bed, scrolling through job listings on his phone. Part-time café work, delivery gigs, anything that didn’t require experience or a degree.
Three quick knocks.
He looked up. “Yeah?”
Door opened without waiting for more. Yel poked her head in.
“Hey, neighbor. Not busy, right?”
Jaebin sat up straighter. “Uh—no. Just eating leftovers. Come in.”
She stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind her. She was in comfy mode now, oversized gray hoodie, same one from yesterday, zipper halfway down, black bike shorts, fuzzy socks.
No makeup, hair a little messy from whatever she’d been doing all morning. She looked smaller like this. More approachable. Less intimidating.
“Smells like spicy ramyeon in here,” she said, sniffing the air. “Classic broke college kid meal.”
“I’m not in college yet,” he reminded her.
“Same difference.” She walked over, plopped down on the floor right next to him without asking. She leaned back on her hands and stretched her legs out.
“Ugh. Brain is fried. Been staring at line art for four hours straight. Needed a break before I start deleting everything in rage.”
Jaebin closed his phone screen. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just… need human contact that isn’t a tablet stylus.” She turned her head toward him. Grinned. “So here I am. Your official chill buddy for the next thirty minutes. Or until my client messages me again.”
He laughed—small, surprised. “I’m honored.”
“You should be.” She nudged his knee with hers. Playful. “So. How’s day two treating you? Survived the morning jog, bumped into anyone interesting?”
His face heated instantly. “You mean Chaeyeon?”
Yel’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh, you already met the big titty goddess? Spill.”
“She was coming out of the elevator. I turned too fast. Face-planted into her… yeah.”
Yel cackled, head tipping back. “She’s got those things like airbags. You okay? Nose still working?”
“Barely,” he muttered. “She was super nice about it though. Offered ice and cookies.”
“Of course she did. Chaeyeon’s the mom of the floor. Always feeding people, always worrying.” Yel stretched her arms over her head. The hoodie rode up a little, showing a thin strip of stomach. Jaebin looked at the wall fast. “She’s sweet. You’ll like her. Everyone does.”
“Yeah. She seems… calm.”
“Unlike me.” Yel dropped her arms and scooted even closer. Now their thighs were touching. She didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did and didn’t care.
“I’m the chaotic one. Youngest too. Always have been. Grew up with three older sisters who bossed me around. So, I never got to be the big sister. Sucks.”
Jaebin glanced at her. “You want to be a big sister?”
“Little brother, actually.” She said it casual.
“I mean, I’m twenty-one. Still the baby in my family. No one to look after. No one to tease or protect or feed ramyeon to when they’re sad.”
She looked at him sideways. “You’re nineteen. Prime little brother material.”
He blinked. “Wait. You’re adopting me?”
“Unofficially. Yeah.” She reached over and ruffled his hair—messy from the jog, still damp from the shower. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. And you don’t talk back much. Perfect dongsaeng.”
Jaebin’s heart did a weird flip. Not the horny kind like with Eunbi last night. Something softer. Warmer. He actually liked how close she was sitting. The easy way she talked. The teasing without meanness.
“I… don’t mind,” he said quietly.
Yel’s grin softened into something real. “Good. Because I’m gonna bug you a lot now. Bring you snacks. Steal your charger. Complain about deadlines at 2 a.m. Standard little-sister torture, but reversed.”
He smiled, “I can live with that.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder—just for a second, testing. Then lifted it again. “You’re comfy. This is dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“You’re gonna get used to me being here. Then I’ll never leave.” She laughed, “Anyway. Tell me something. What do you do when you’re not jogging or getting smothered by Chaeyeon’s assets?”
Jaebin thought for a second. “Play games. Mostly single-player stuff. Sometimes I draw a little. Nothing good.”
“You draw?” Her eyes brightened. “Show me.”
“It’s trash—”
“Show me anyway. Big sister orders.”
He hesitated, then grabbed his sketchbook from under the bed. Flipped to a page—a rough pencil sketch of a city skyline at night, some mecha robot concept he’d doodled last month.
Yel took the book. Studied it seriously. No teasing this time.
“Not bad,” she said after a minute. “Line work’s clean. Perspective’s off here—” she pointed with her pinky “—but you’ve got style. You should do more.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Haven’t had time.”
“You’ve got time now.” She handed the book back. “I’ll drag you into my freelance hell sometime. We can draw together. Misery loves company.”
Jaebin nodded. “Sounds like a deal.”
They sat quiet for a bit. Not awkward quiet. Comfortable. Yel picked at a loose thread on her hoodie sleeve. Jaebin finished the last of his ramyeon.
“You know,” she said suddenly, “I’m glad you moved in. This floor was getting… estrogen heavy. Needed some guy energy. Even if you’re a shy baby.”
“I’m not that shy.”
“You’re blushing right now.”
“Shut up.”
She laughed again, then she stood up, stretched tall, “Okay. Break over. Gotta go finish these panels before my editor hunts me down.”
She walked to the door, paused with her hand on the knob. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Come over later if you want. Like… dinner time. I make tteokbokki. Not promising it won’t be spicy enough to kill you, but.”
Jaebin smiled. “I like spicy.”
“My guy.” She winked. “See you, little bro.”
The door clicked shut.
Jaebin sat there alone again. Room felt bigger without her in it. Emptier.
He touched the top of his head where she’d ruffled his hair.
Little brother.
He didn’t hate it.
Not even a little.
Evening, around 7:40 PM.
The sun had dropped behind the taller buildings an hour ago, leaving the sky a deep purple streaked with orange.
Jaebin pushed open the small sliding door to his balcony—a tiny concrete ledge barely big enough for one chair and a dying potted plant the last tenant left behind.
He stepped out in just his loose t-shirt and shorts, barefoot, the cool evening air hitting his skin right away.
He leaned on the metal railing and looked out. The city skyline wasn’t anything special from this angle—mostly mid-rise apartments, neon signs from the convenience stores below, the red blinking light on top of a distant office tower. Trains rattled by every few minutes, lights streaking like slow comets. It felt somehow... peaceful, despite whatever happens today.
He exhaled slow. “This place is insane,” he muttered to no one.
His eyes wandered left along the building’s facade. The balconies were staggered—some had laundry hanging, some had plants, most had nothing.
Four rooms from his, maybe room 407 or 408, a light was on behind thin white curtains. Not fully closed. A gap maybe ten centimeters wide.
He didn’t mean to stare. He really didn’t.
But movement caught his eye.
A girl stepped into view.
She was facing away at first—long straight black hair down her back, slim waist, wearing only light gray panties that hugged her hips. No bra. No top. Bare.
That’s Jeewon—he didn’t know her name yet, but that’s who it was.
She reached up with both arms, stretching like she’d been sitting all day. Her back arched. And then her breasts came into full side view as she turned slightly toward the window.
Big.
Not just big—full, round, heavy in that natural way that made them sway a little even with the smallest movement. Nipples dark against the paleness, already perked from the cool.
Jaebin’s throat went dry.
She didn’t notice him. Or if she did, she didn’t care.
She bent forward to pick something up from the floor—a fresh white tank top maybe—and the motion made everything bounce once.
Jaebin gripped the railing harder. His heart started hammering like it had last night with Eunbi, but this was different.
This wasn’t invited. This was accidental. Wrong to watch. But he couldn’t look away.
Jeewon straightened up. Slipped the tank top over her head, caught for a second on her chest, she had to tug it down twice.
When it finally settled, it clung tight, outlining every curve, the material so thin he could still see her nipples underneath.
She turned more toward the window then. Facing out.
Jaebin froze.
She was pretty—sharp jawline, full lips, eyes that looked tired but bright. Maybe twenty-two, twenty-three or maybe older. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. Then she walked closer to the sliding door, like she was checking something outside.
Her eyes scanned the balconies.
And landed right on him.
Jaebin’s stomach dropped.
For one long second they just stared at each other across the gap—him on his tiny ledge, her inside her lit room, tank top stretched tight over those impossible breasts.
She didn’t scream. Didn’t cover up. Didn’t even look mad.
Instead, one corner of her mouth lifted. Small smirk.
She raised one hand—slow—waved once. Casual. Like she was saying hi to a neighbor she’d seen a hundred times.
Jaebin lifted his hand automatically. Waved back. Awkward. Face burning so hot he thought it might glow.
Jeewon tilted her head. Then she reached up again—both hands this time—cupped the undersides of her breasts through the tank top for a second, lifted them slightly like she was adjusting, then let go.
She is teasing.
Jaebin’s mouth opened. No sound came out.
She laughed—soft, muffled through the glass—and mouthed something he couldn’t hear. Probably “sorry” or “oops” or maybe just “hi.”
Then she reached over, slid her curtain the rest of the way closed.
The light stayed on behind it, silhouette faint now.
Jaebin stood there another full minute. Breathing shallow. Cock half-hard in his shorts without him even realizing it had happened.
He finally stepped back inside. Closed his sliding door. Locked it like that would erase what just happened.
He dropped onto the bed. Stared at the ceiling.
“Who the hell was that?” he whispered.
He didn’t know her name. Didn’t know her room number for sure. But he knew one thing:
She’d seen him looking.
And she hadn’t minded. Not one bit.
Jaebin was still on the bed, blanket half over his head, trying to calm his pulse after what he’d just seen on the balcony.
He kept telling himself it was an accident. She probably didn’t even mean for him to see. Probably.
Three soft knocks.
He sat up fast. Heart jumped again.
“Yeah?” he called, voice rough.
The door opened without him getting up. Just cracked enough for her to slip through.
It was her.
Jeewon.
Smaller body than he expected up close—maybe 160 cm, slim shoulders, narrow waist, legs that looked long for her height in tiny sleep shorts.
But her chest… the white tank top was thin cotton, stretched so tight across her breasts that the fabric looked ready to tear at the seams. No bra underneath. Nipples pressed against the tank top.
Every breath made them shift. She closed the door behind her with her back, hands behind her like she was nervous but not really.
“Hi,” she said a little playful. “I’m Jeewon. 407. Saw you staring from your balcony.”
Jaebin’s mouth went dry. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
She laughed quietly and stepped closer. Bare feet on his floor. “It’s okay. I left the curtain open on purpose. Wanted to see if the new guy would look.”
He stared. Couldn’t help it. Her tits were right there, inches away now, heaving gently with each step. Bigger up close. Rounder. The tank top rode up a little at the bottom, showing a sliver of underboob.
She stopped at the edge of his bed. Looked down at him sitting there in his shorts and t-shirt, blanket bunched around his waist.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” she said. “Blushing again.”
Jaebin rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I just… moved in yesterday. Everything’s a lot.”
“I get it.” She sat on the edge of the mattress without asking. Close enough that her thigh touched his. “This floor can be overwhelming. Nine of us. All… friendly. You’ve met a few already?”
“Yeah. Jihyo, Yel, Eunbi last night, Chaeyeon this morning.”
Jeewon’s eyes sparkled. “Eunbi already? She moves fast.” She leaned in a little. Her chest brushed his arm—soft, warm pressure through the tank top. “Did she let you finish between her tits?”
Jaebin choked on air. “How—”
“Figures.” She smiled wider. “And she texted the group chat. ‘New boy popped quick. So sweet.’ Don’t worry. We all think it’s hot.”
He covered his face with both hands. “Kill me now.”
Jeewon giggled—soft, real. She pulled his hands down gently. Her fingers were small, cool.
“Hey,” she said. “Look at me.”
He did.
She was close now. Face inches from his. Lips full, glossed a little. Eyes dark and steady.
“I came over because I wanted to say hi properly,” she whispered. “And maybe… help you relax. You looked tense out there on the balcony.”
“I’m… fine.”
“You’re hard,” she said simply.
Jaebin glanced down. His shorts were tented obviously. No hiding it.
Jeewon’s hand moved slow. Palm flat on his thigh first. Then higher. She cupped him through the fabric—gentle squeeze.
He hissed.
“See?” she murmured. “You need this.”
She slid off the bed, knelt between his legs on the floor, her chest pressing against his knees as she leaned in.
She hooked her fingers in his waistband. Tugged shorts and boxers down together. His cock sprang free—hard, leaking at the tip already.
Jeewon licked her lips once. “Nice.”
She didn’t waste time.
One hand wrapped around the base—small fingers barely meeting. The other cupped his balls lightly. Then she leaned forward.
Her mouth was warm. Wet. She took him in slow—halfway first, tongue flat against the underside. Jaebin groaned low, head falling back against the wall.
She hummed around him. The vibration shot straight up his spine.
She started moving—slow bobs at first, lips tight, cheeks hollowing when she pulled back. Every time she went down deeper. Throat relaxed. No gag. Just smooth, steady suction.
Jaebin’s hands fisted the sheets. “Fuck… Jeewon…”
She pulled off for a second—just to breathe. A thin string of spit connected her lips to the tip.
“You can touch my hair if you want,” she said. Voice husky now. “Or my tits. Whatever feels good.”
He hesitated. Then reached down. One hand in her hair—soft, straight strands slipping through his fingers. The other… he cupped one breast through the tank top. Heavy. Overflowed his palm. He squeezed gently.
She moaned around his cock when he did that.
She sped up. Head moving faster. Hand stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach. Wet sounds filled the small room—sloppy, obscene.
Jaebin’s hips started moving on their own. Small thrusts. She took it. Let him fuck her mouth shallow.
“Jeewon—I’m close—”
She didn’t pull off. Just looked up at him—eyes watering a little from the depth, but steady. Nodded once. Keep going.
He groaned louder. Hand tightening in her hair. The other squeezed her breast harder—felt the nipple harden under his thumb through the fabric.
It hit fast.
He came with a choked sound—thick pulses straight down her throat. She swallowed around him. Kept sucking gentle until he was empty, twitching, oversensitive.
When she finally pulled off, she licked her lips. Clean. Wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Smiled up at him.
“Better?” she asked.
He could only nod. Brain fried.
She stood up. Tank top still clinging to her curves—nipples hard points now. She leaned down, kissed his forehead once. Soft.
“Welcome to the floor, Jaebin,” she whispered. “If you ever want more… knock on 407. Door’s open.”
She walked to the door. Paused with her hand on the knob.
“And next time you see me changing… feel free to watch longer. I like being seen.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Jaebin lay there. Shorts still around his thighs.
He stared at the ceiling.
Day two.
And he still hadn’t met everyone.
11:03 PM.
Jaebin was half-asleep on his bed, phone on his chest, screen dark.
A knock. Not soft. Not polite. Three hard raps, then the doorknob rattled like someone was trying it without waiting.
He sat up fast. “Who—?”
The door pushed open before he finished.
Eunbi.
She stumbled in, heels clicking uneven on the floor. Black dress—short, tight, one strap slipping off her shoulder. Hair messy now, bun half-undone, strands sticking to her flushed cheeks. Makeup smudged under her eyes. She smelled like soju, sweet fruit mixer, and cigarette smoke from whatever bar she’d been at.
She kicked the door shut with her heel. Missed the first time. Tried again. Got it.
“Jaebin-ah,” she slurred, voice thicker than usual. She leaned back against the door for support. Breasts pushed up high in the low neckline, almost spilling out.
Jaebin stood up slow. “You okay? You’re drunk.”
“Very.” She laughed—short, bitter. Pushed off the door and wobbled toward him.
Almost tripped over his sneakers on the floor. He caught her elbow quick.
“Easy,” he said.
She looked up at him. Eyes glassy, pupils big. “You’re sweet. Always catching me.”
He guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. She dropped heavy, thighs spreading a little under the dress. Skirt rode up high enough to show lace panties—black, sheer in the middle.
“Why didn’t you go to your room?” he asked.
“Key… somewhere.” She patted her small purse, then gave up. “And I didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”
Jaebin crouched in front of her so they were eye level. “You need water? Or coffee? I can make instant.”
Eunbi shook her head slow. Reached out, cupped his cheek with one warm hand. Thumb brushed his lip.
“No water. No coffee.” Her voice dropped lower. “There’s only one thing that sobers me up fast.”
He swallowed. “What?”
She leaned in. Breath hot against his ear. “Eat my pussy.”
Jaebin froze.
She pulled back just enough to look at his face. Smiled crooked. “Don’t look shocked. You already know I’m not shy.”
“I… yeah. But you’re drunk.”
“Drunk, not dead.” She spread her legs wider. Dress bunched at her hips now. Panties visible—wet spot already darkening the sheer panel. “I’ve been thinking about your tongue all night. Bar was boring. Guys staring at my tits, buying drinks, talking shit. I kept picturing your mouth instead.”
Jaebin’s heart slammed. Cock twitched in his shorts.
Eunbi noticed. Reached down, palmed him through the fabric. Slow rub. “See? You want it too.”
He didn’t deny it.
She hooked one finger under her panties, pulled them to the side. Shaved smooth. Lips swollen, glistening. She was soaked.
“Come here,” she whispered. “Please.”
Jaebin hesitated one more second. Then knelt between her thighs.
She leaned back on her elbows. Watched him.
He started slow—kissed the inside of her thigh first. Soft skin. She shivered. Then higher. Nosed along her slit, breathing her in—musky, sweet from the alcohol still on her skin.
Eunbi sighed. “Good boy.”
He licked once—flat tongue from bottom to top. Tasted salt and heat. She moaned low, hips lifting a little.
“More,” she said. Voice rough now.
He gave her more. Tongue circling her clit—slow at first, then faster. Sucked gently. She gasped. One hand went to his hair, fingers twisting.
“Fuck… just like that.”
He pressed harder. Tongue dipping inside her, then back to her clit. Two fingers slid in easy—she was dripping. Curled them up, found that spot. Rubbed steady while his mouth worked her.
Eunbi’s breathing turned ragged. Thighs started shaking around his head.
“Don’t stop,” she panted. “Don’t you dare stop.”
He didn’t.
She came fast—back arching, moan loud enough the thin walls probably carried it. Walls clenched around his fingers. Wetness flooded his mouth. He kept licking through it, gentle now, until she pushed his head away weakly.
“Too much… too sensitive…”
Jaebin pulled back. Lips shiny. Chin wet.
Eunbi lay there panting. Chest rising and falling hard. Dress straps both off her shoulders now. Breasts almost fully out.
She looked down at him. Smiled—lazy, satisfied.
“See?” she said. “Sober now.”
Jaebin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You sure?”
“Clear as day.” She sat up slow. Pulled him up by his shirt. Kissed him deep—tasted herself on his tongue. Moaned into his mouth.
When she pulled away, her eyes were sharper. Less glassy.
“Better than coffee,” she murmured.
She stood up. Wobbled once. Steady. Fixed her dress—barely. Panties still crooked.
“I should go to my room now,” she said. “Before I decide to stay and ride you until morning.”
Jaebin’s cock throbbed at the words. He didn’t argue.
Eunbi leaned down. Kissed his forehead. Then his lips again—soft this time.
“Thank you, Jaebin-ah. For not sending me away.”
She walked to the door. Paused.
“Tomorrow… maybe I return the favor. Properly.”
The door clicked shut.
Jaebin sat on the floor where he’d knelt. Tasted her still on his tongue. Heart racing.
He looked at the clock. 11:27 p.m.
Day two still wasn’t over.
But he was exhausted.
He stripped off his shirt. Crawled under the blanket.
He closed his eyes.
Dreams were going to be wild tonight.
a/n: inspired by @mistyrani's The Apartment series. Don't forget to check that out, that's great series!
~Le Sserafim's Chaewon (x Male Reader), 6.5k words, Smut, Cafe Cuties Part 3 (previous part)
You weren’t exactly sure how you made it to work the next day.
You distinctly remember being shaken awake by Chaewon, already in an oversized hoodie ready to leave. But between the headache and the memories flooding in from the previous night, it was a miracle you were standing behind the counter of Cozy’s Coffee and Cakes.
“Hey, you’re not listening are you?”, Chaewon’s voice ricocheted in your skull.
"“Keep it down, I’m listening,” you lied. “How are you like, functioning right now?” You asked, rubbing your temples with your palms.
“Because I’m at work. What about you? Am I gonna have to write you up for coming to work hungover?”
You stretched your back. “I’m only hungover because of you, Ms. Manager”, you said, twisting your obliques.
She reached to your head, ruffling your hair. “You look like a mess, what the hell happened after I passed out last night?”
Your eyes dropped to the floor, avoiding hers. “I just get like, crazy bed head”, you said, leaning your head lower so she could access your hair better.
“That’s a bit better, here look at me for a sec” She took her fingers and pinched both of your cheeks, hard enough your mouth opened slightly from being tugged. She stayed like that for a moment, before you could clearly see her forcing back a smile.
“Why are you pinching my cheeks?” You asked, swiping her arms away. The laugh she was suppressing broke through.
“Hehe~, helps with blood flow. Probably.”
“You’re so annoying”, you rolled your eyes with a chuckle.
“I’m annoying? What about you, pulling that stuff when Eunchae was in the bathroom?”
“Me?? You were the one who-”
She wanna keep going looked you to silence.
“Hmph, good. Now look alive stupid, we open in 5. I have a feeling it’s going to be busy today.”
“You say that every day”
“Wishful thinking”, she smiled, giving you a few playful smacks on your bicep. “Go go, turn on the coffee machine”, she said before scuttling over to the kitchen, probably to prep for the cakes to be baked.
“Wait”, you called. She turned her head, soft eyes locking with yours, strands from the loose bun she tied framing her face. She was so damn pretty, such a perfect face to wake up to, and then go to work with. And you were gonna do something to piss that face off, well, because it was Chaewon.
“Thanks for letting me crash last night”
“That’s why you stopped me? I mean, it was no problem, we were all drunk so-”
“No, no, let me thank you properly. I got you something”
She lit up with a smile. “You got me something?”, she gushed, hopping over to you in quick strides. “Ohh I always knew it, you tease me and tease me but deep down you really appreciate your manager, don’t you?”
A mischievous smile crept on your face as you reached into the drawer under the cash register. You’d slipped it in there on your way in.
“Hey, don’t you?” she asked cautiously this time.
“Of course, that’s why I got you this”. You pulled out a brown old cowboy hat that you’d found in her room the night before. You had tucked it into your bag when Chaewon had first passed out, intending to tease her about it today.
“Yah! Where did you get that!”, she screamed, reaching for the hat.
You couldn’t bite back your laughter anymore, lifting the cowboy hat so it was just out of reach. Teasing her was the best hangover cure you could ask for. The boundless amount of energy that welled inside you just from seeing her flustered was definitely a red flag.
“Yeehaw, miss manager!”, you laughed. “What, are you a cowboy on your days off?”
“It’s a cute hat!”, she squealed, jumping up as she tried to take it from you.
“Yeah, in the wild west”, you quipped. “Is that why you’re always so mad at work? Application from the saloon got denied, so now you wallow at this regular, modern cafe?”.
Chaewon’s cheeks flushed in anger. “Shut up! It’s cute and it was on sale and I barely wear it so- just give it back!”
You put the hat on her head softly as her anger welled. The hat fit perfect on her head, and damn did she look fine. Your laughing died down as her fluttering eyes looked up at you. You both stayed there for a while, eyes locked. “You’re right, though. It does look cute on you”.
Her complaining paused at your words, and her eyes flicked down to your lips quickly, before landing back on your eyes. “You’re so fucking annoying”, she huffed, her flushed cheeks and deep gaze betraying her anger. “Now open the fucking coffee machine”
It was, of course, another slow day. You wiped the counter for the umpteenth time. The few coffee grounds that were scattered on the counter had been waterboarded into submission by your wet rag and had apparently gone into hiding. The counter shined clear.
You finally caved, pulling your phone out of your pocket. If there was nothing to do, a quick check wouldn’t hurt, right? You hadn’t checked it since… Karina had texted you the previous night. And if your mind hadn’t played tricks on you, didn’t you hear the phone ding as you fell asleep on Chaewon’s floor?
Your phone had exactly two notifications, both from the same person. The same one from the broken hearted emoji contact, Karina, that read:
</3: Where are you??
Which was, you glanced at the time, 5 hours ago. You cursed your lack of sleep, before reading the next message, which read:
</3: I know you’re ignoring me. Can we just talk?
You threw your phone on the counter, grabbing the washcloth again and wiping.
Maybe if you wiped hard enough your phone would disappear like those coffee grinds, along with the memories of your ex-girlfriend.
You wiped a couple of times, before picking your phone back up and staring at the message. Anger flared up. She just wanted to talk? After a month? No, she’s not allowed to just waltz back in your life with an apology, if that was even what she wanted to do.
But the thing about apologies was, sometimes, even if they didn’t mean anything, you craved them like a drug. The anger peaked into something else. Something different.
Was it want? The want to talk to her, to see her again, to feel her hand in yours?
Maybe it was pride. The thought of hearing her apologize, did it make you feel validated? Or maybe it was just the need for closure. Yeah, that’s why you cared so much. It wasn’t for Karina, it was for yourself. You needed some end to the trauma.
You stared at your keyboard. It was easy to make the conviction to do something. But how would you approach it? As the bigger person to remind her what she lost? Bitterly so she knew how angry you were? Deadpan, so she thought she didn’t affect you?
You stared at your phone, blinking clutzily.
Hey Karina,
You typed. It looked like a different language. So formal, so… unfamiliar. Was this the way to talk to someone you’d once shared every moment with? To someone you once poured your heart out to one moment then joked with in the next heartbeat? You erased the message.
But you couldn’t be too formal, right? Not after you walked in on her with another guy. Not when you saw her make the same face she made for you as she straddled his hips. The thought of it caused you to throw your phone down again.
Chaewon walked out of the small kitchen. Her tight black shirt perfectly clung to her so you could see the outline of her stomach, the curve of her breasts. Her gray sweats, tied loosely, were covered in flour and handprints from baking all morning.
Her tired face poked through, the remnants of last night's alcohol lining her face. But she was still so damn pretty, like no matter what she went through, she would own it, make it hers. And to be her was to be pretty. The hangover was just an accent, like something she wore to highlight her prettiness. She still had her cowboy hat on. You quietly thanked yourself for bringing it.
She gave you a tired sigh, the ones you saved for when you found relief. “I’m so tired”, she said, slumping her shoulders. She dragged her feet, till she stood in front of you. “You okay?”, she asked, noticing your soured expression.
You smiled. Just hearing her voice was enough to cheer you up. “I’m okay Chae”, you exhaled. “You?”
She closed her eyes, sighing. “Yeah, I think this hangover is catching up to me”
You wanted to tease her, of course, but more than that you wanted to touch her cheek, to reach up and fix the strand of hair that was loose.
“Why don’t you go home”, you said instead. “You have a lot to clean up from last night, and plus, I haven’t heard from Eunchae, she’s probably still passed out. You go on and I’ll stay here”
She opened her eyes, catching yours. “Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea”, she finally said. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
“Chae, we’ve gotten 2 customers the whole day. Plus, budget cuts, remember?” Ever since the budget cuts, the cafe had been closing at 4pm so as to cut labour costs. It wasn’t like there were any customers wishing you were open anyway.
“I know I know. You’re right. But remember to wipe down the syrup bottles okay? The sugar can attract fruit flies. Oh, and sweep under the kitchen counter, I baked a lot today, so there’ll be flour underneath. And we might get a delivery so make sure you keep the invoice-”
“Chae, I got it!”, you laughed. “Don’t worry, you can lean on me sometimes”.
She gave you a wide smile. “I know. You really love your manager don’t you. Okay go on and take the cakes out of the oven. I’m gonna finish the finance report for this week and then I’ll head out. I’ll watch the front while you’re in there.”
You resisted the urge to pat her on the head, instead heading over to the kitchen. The sweet smell of frosting and vanilla hit you almost as hard as Chaewon’s smile did. The small kitchen was just like her apartment. A little messy, but ordered. A large tray of eggs was occupied by both fresh and cracked eggs, viscous egg goop leaking on the carton. Flour seeped into every corner of the counter. You took a moment to wipe it down.
You heard the bell ring signaling a rare occurrence; a customer had come in.
You opened the oven, the smells wafting you. You took out the brownies on the bottom tray, the colour so rich and brown you could almost taste them, and placed them on the counter. You took out the personal cheesecakes, still jiggling, doing their quiet dance to signal they had reached their perfect doneness. The cupcakes, those were your favourite, had fluffed up so much they were practically bursting out of their tray. You looked at all of the pastries laid out in front of you.
You heard Chaewon’s sweet voice, presumably taking an order.
You grabbed a knife, slicing the vivid red strawberries Chaewon had already stemmed. You sorted the blueberries, throwing out the mushy ones, and popping the slightly overripe ones in your mouth.
By now, the front had gone silent. “Chaewon, where’s the frosting? I prepped the fruit for the cupcakes.”, you called.
She popped her head in the kitchen almost immediately.
“Check the lowboy. Also, I’m not going home early.”
“What?”, you said, but her head was already gone.
You checked the lowboy, pulling the frosting out and lazily tossing it on the counter.
“What do you mean? I said I could handle-”, you started as you left the kitchen, paring knife still in hand.
You could tell by the way her silky hair flowed beautifully down her back that the customer that came in was Karina. You could see from this angle her sharp jawline, her skin so smooth it didn’t look real. She was sitting at the window side table, facing away from you. A guy, features sharp like hers sat across from her.
The cheesecake they were sharing infuriated you. The way two little spoons hung off the plate. The way the straw to his americano was stained red with lipstick, or the way she was clearly laughing at something he had said.
Your limbs went slack, emotions from the past month welling up to the surface. You dropped the knife in your hand.
The sound of metal on the ceramic tiles clanked, drawing Karina’s attention, her sharp eyes finding you. For the first time in over a month, you and Karina had locked eyes. You had spent that time wondering if you would ever say anything to her again, if you would see her again, and now she was there, staring at you.
Her lips curled into a knowing smile, before she turned back to the unknowing guy across from her. She knew. She did this on purpose. That look she gave you, she must’ve been planning this. Was it payback for not answering her text? Did she pick up the first handsome guy she found on the street to bring him here? Or was this an actual relationship?
But how did she even know where you were? That was right, the same reason she asked where you were last night. You had forgotten after all these weeks to turn your location off. She must’ve come here to flaunt.
Your fists balled as Karina slowly reached over the table, picking up Mr. Handsome’s americano, bringing it to her lips and taking a long sip. She was definitely doing this on purpose.
To hell with being the bigger person. No, you were mad. And she was going to know you were mad. You took a step forward, but in the corner of your eye, maybe the only thing perfect enough to distract you caught your attention.
“Tch.”
Your mind grappled guiltily between two tides. Finally seeing Karina again, or an angry Chaewon. Your face landed on Chaewon’s. She looked at you in disgust. An angry Chaewon was a cute Chaewon, but it wasn’t like this was a rare occurrence. How often did you get an opportunity to chirp out your ex in front of her new playtoy. You turned again to Karina holding her spoon in her mouth loosely. You balled your fists again. She did that when she was flirting.
Another click of Chaewon’s tongue tugged you back. Her body was facing you, but her head was turned to the side.
“What Chaewon?”, you asked, probably harsher than you should’ve.
She turned slightly towards you, crinkling her nose. “Hmph. Always knew you were weak. See a pretty girl and you can’t help but oogle like a chimp”
You stole a quick glance at Karina before fully diverting your attention to Chaewon.
“What?”, you stared. She looked away again. “Chae, it’s not like that.” You were working your best to keep quiet, but the heat of the moment was getting to you.
“What, she’s so fucking pretty your hands don’t work anymore?”, she said, also trying to keep her voice down.
“Chae, it’s not fucking like that. She’s-”
“Mhm, go ahead, she’s what,” Chaewon hissed, hand in front of her face, scratching her nails together like it was the only thing interesting.
“Wait, are you jealous?”, you asked, the situation kicking in. “Is that why you said you weren’t going home? Because Karina came?”
She scowled at you. “Oh, so I decide to stay to help you out and I’m jealous?” She mocked. Suddenly, realization hit her and you almost thought her expression softened a little. “Wait, Karina? Do you know her”
You softened too. “If you just listened instead of pouting I would’ve gotten to that”.
From the outside, you were sure this would look weird. You were hunched, trying to make yourself look small so as to not be noticed, and Chaewon was visibly annoyed. The two of you weren’t exactly whispering, your hushed voices would definitely seem suspicious. You grew conscious of this, and straightened up a bit.
“Oh”, she said, relaxing a bit, but crossing her arms at the same time. “And how do you know this woman”
“Well, it’s kind of complicated”, you hesitated
“Hmm. Well you shouldn’t even be out here. Those cakes need to be frosted”, she said plainly.
A familiar rich voice interrupted the conversation. One with all the charm and charisma you couldn’t handle right now. You definitely underestimated how much you thought about that voice since you’d last heard it. Your head flicked to Karina faster than Chaewon could put on her usual smiley customer service face.
“It’s been a while”, she said as if she had not texted you in the small hours of that morning. She wore a short smile, the rest of her unreadable.
Chaewon stood there, locked between her duty as a manager, to treat this customer as her utmost priority, and whatever else she was thinking.
You stood there for what felt like too long. You could feel the sweat balming on your palms, feel every breath as if you had to force them out. Honestly, you wanted to say something, to compliment her hair or lambaste her audacity for coming here, or maybe something in between.
The sound coming out of your mouth surprised you too, because you could’ve sworn it was closed.
And then Chaewon’s voice came. Strange, it felt like it was from above.
“Oh, sorry about him!”, she said. Her voice was similarly majestic, yet oddly bright and cheerful against Karina’s deep rich voice. “He’s still in training”, she lied, reaching inside the display fridge and grabbing a slice of matcha cheesecake. She placed it on a plate, reaching over and handing it to Karina. “Sorry about his… weird customer service. Why don’t you take this, you can share it with your boyfriend”, she said, over enunciating the last word.
Karina’s eyes flicked to Chaewon, glancing her over carefully. Both wore smiles that meant something more, as if there was a long standing history between them. But there wasn’t, just you.
Karina grabbed the plate, fingers cautious. Chaewon’s hand lingered, as if the plate was a conversation and she wanted the last word. Karina too, would not stoop so low as to tug it from her hand, but her pride also wouldn’t let her refuse the cake. Chaewon had interrupted, and had therefore owed her something. But in mentioning the man she was with, laid out Karina’s pettiness at coming here with him. The tension was impossible. Mr. Handsome scrolled cluelessly on his phone.
“Thanks”, Karina hissed, as she essentially pried the plate from Chaewon’s grip. “For the cake.”
The situation played out in front of you slowly, but your mind moved impossibly fast in thought. You noted every twitch of Karina’s smile, noticed Chaewon’s temple pulse as she grinded her teeth.
You stood there dwarfed between your ex and Chaewon. Was this okay? Were you going to let Chaewon battle it out with your ex? Defend your honour? She didn’t even know the situation, but she was defending you like you were hers. Maybe Karina didn’t deserve your reaction, didn’t deserve a response, but Chaewon didn’t deserve to be the one to give her that in your place. She might’ve been your manager, but you were still a man, and you weren’t going to leave her to handle this.
“Why did you come here, Karina?”. She looked at you, shocked, as if you were a potted plant that had opened its mouth and spoke.
Chaewon tilted her head, but took a step back. Karina eyed you, eyes breaking. The pained expression she wore almost looked real. She searched your face. You gave her nothing. “I just… I just wanted to see you”, she finally said
Your eyes flicked to Mr. Handsome, who now entertained himself by trying to adjust the single strand of hair that hadn’t gotten the memo to sit smuggly over his eyebrow. “What, to flaunt. Or did you forget you already did that when you used my apartment as your own hunting ground for all the guys you fucked behind my back”.
She took a step back. “It’s- it’s not like that! Look, can we not do this here?”
“So then where do you want to do it? Or are you not the one that came here in the first place?”
Her face was scrunched up. She was pleading now, voice slow and careful. “Please, you never let me explain. You just disappeared. And I get it, I do, but can I just… can you just listen to what happened from my perspective?”. Her eyes were wet. You felt empty, pity almost.
You turned to Chaewon, who had backed up, an ashamed expression on her face. You turned back to Karina. She took another step back, looking between you and Chaewon. “Oh”, she said simply.
You didn’t acknowledge that. “Fine. Whatever you have to say, I’ll listen. Not because I still care, because believe me I don’t.” You spoke in a low voice. “Just, not here, and not today.”
Karina took a last step back, but regained her composure nonetheless. She gave you a short nod, before turning towards the door. She paused for a second, hurried to the table Mr. Handsome was now idly humming at, placed the cake she was holding down, then hurried off out into the cold street. Mr. Handsome looked around in confusion. He eventually ate the cake.
The rest of the day passed slowly. Your only other customer was Liz, the same rich girl with the cute dimples that had walked in on you massaging Chaewon. Ever since that day, she’d been a regular. Chaewon had let the day pass in silence, not questioning you about Karina, nor pushing you to talk to her casually. You appreciated the space she was giving you.
The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable. At times you wanted to say something, to thank Chaewon for standing up for you, to apologize for causing a scene at work, but you were preoccupied questioning if you did the right thing. Should you have told Karina to fuck off? To never come here again and scold her for even thinking her explanation could justify what she did?
You tucked the mop away in the supply closet, ready to collect your jacket to head out. The door clinked softly as it closed behind you.
“Hey.” Chaewon stood behind you, arms crossed.
You turned around slowly. “Hey Chae, I just finished up. Thanks for stayi-”
“Shut up”, she said softly, taking a commanding step forward. You backed up, heel tapping the wall behind you.
There was a fire in her eyes. Maybe you had misread the situation, maybe she wasn’t giving you space. No, Chaewon had been ignoring you. She stopped too close, arms still crossed and looking up at you. “Chaewon?”
She stood there.
“Chaewon?” She crossed her arms even tighter. “Are you trying to be intimidating?”
“No.”
“Then what-”
“Are you okay?”, she said, same quiet, inflection. It was a confusing mix of annoyance and genuine concern.
“What?”
“I said are you okay?” You could tell she was conflicted in that the question didn’t sound like a question.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Her. Karina, or whatever her name is. Are you good or not?”
You thought about it, about how you put Chaewon’s annoyance first when you saw Karina a couple of hours earlier. You thought of what Eunchae said last night and how when Karina told you she just wanted to talk, you felt empty. How you told her you’d talk to her not because you wanted a conversation, but wanted her out, out of your place, the place Eunchae and Chaewon had made so special.
“Yeah”, you said, more to yourself. “Yeah, I am”
Something on her face changed. “Good. Now get on the floor”
“What?”, you said again.
She grabbed your shirt, pulling you close to her. “Didn’t I tell you last night? Next time we fuck I’m having my way with you!” she yelled, before taking your lips in hers.
You were caught off guard as her lips tore your mouth open. The taste was a familiar bliss, but as your brain caught up and you started to respond, she pulled away. “Lie down”, she ordered.
You normally would’ve fought, or pushed back, made some snarky remark, but your last 24 hours had been much too eventful. Your head spun as you crouched to sit. Could you have gotten it wrong again? She wasn’t ignoring you? But why hadn’t she talked to you? Was she pouting?
Two soft hands pushed you to the ground with surprising strength. Chaewon climbed on top of you, cowboy hat still resting on her head. Funny, the rim kind of looked like a halo. You assumed what would proceed would not be very angelic.
She straddled her hips on your growing hardness, handfuls of your shirt in her hands as if they were reins. “You want to always be snarky in my fucking cafe all the time!”, she huffed, breath growing ragged. She arched low, taking your lips in hers.
She wasn’t fucking lying. That kiss said a lot of things, but made one thing very clear. Just as your tongue poked out to kiss her back, she pulled away. Undoubtedly, she was in control.
“You wanna just waltz in to work and flirt with me at my job? And you think I’m just gonna let that fucking slide?” she asked, still grinding on you. “Well, it’s not gonna happen”.
She palmed your chest, pushing off it as she stood. You laid there, dazed and confused, sure, but you weren’t stupid enough to protest. You weren’t complaining after all. She stripped her sweatpants off, revealing simple white panties. Stepping over your head, she placed her feet beside each of your ears, toes closer to your shoulders. “Now lick me”, she said, squatting down.
Your head was soon enveloped in perfect snugness. You could smell that same caramelly scent you knew to be Chaewon’s perfume, along with her musk. Darkness overtook you when she sat, as if the world had suddenly ended and there was just Chaewon.
Your hands reached past her thighs, gripping her ass, feeling the perfect roundness as you groped before sliding your hands lower. You hooked your fingers around the thin strand of cloth restricting you from obeying Chaewon, sliding it to the side. A second wave of warmness enveloped you, coupled with a new but just as lewd moistness. She was so wet the cage of legs she had you trapped in had grown humid with her wetness.
You could’ve done what you always did with Chaewon, tease and resist for the sake of getting a reaction out of her, but between her hot pussy in your face and the fact you were pretty sure she was jealous of Karina, you jumped in.
Your tongue worked furiously, and on first contact with her slickness, her legs tightened around you. You felt her collapse onto you, breasts on your chest.
She tasted amazing. You could hear her moans through her legs, her pussy shuddering at every lick. You continued to knead her ass as you tongued her. Chaewon’s hands explored your body, rubbing at your chest, sliding to your stomach and legs, gripped your shirt
Soon, Chaewon was at her limit, your mouth a drain for her love juices. Her body shook on yours as she climaxed.
She lay there for a while, heat still clamped to your face as you continued to grope her ass. The growing throbs in your manhood grew almost painful. You bucked up, trying unsuccessfully to push Chaewon lower down your body, before you placed your elbows on the floor for leverage. You sat up, Chaewon sliding down your face until she sat at your chest with a yelp.
“I’m so fucking hard Chae”, you moaned. You placed your hands on her hips, as if to lift her off you. At your contact, she sat up, pinpointing her weight on her ass, pushing you back down. In one spry motion, she lifted her legs, pivoting on her ass and swinging her legs around so she was facing you. Her legs once again closed up around your torso, taking you in a mount position.
She leaned close. Your head automatically lifted, mouth reaching for her lips, but she pulled away.
“Didn’t I tell you?”, she said, leaning in. “That the next time we fucked, you’d regret teasing me?” Chaewon wasn’t fucking lying. She was going to make you pay for the stunt you pulled the last time you were in this supply closet with her. The snarky little back and forth you shared didn’t seem to be limited to just conversation. Chaewon had brought it to the physical.
She reached up, fixing the cowboy hat that had grown crooked. “Now I’m gonna ride you”, she smiled, a devious twinkle sparkling in her eyes.
The remark you had been forming in your head the moment she touched her cowboy hat had subsided as she leaned in, giving you that kiss you wanted. Well, technically it was a kiss, but it may as well have been two vacuum cleaners fighting for control. Your mouth was still covered in her love juices, the taste only made sweeter by Chaewon’s tongue constantly pushing and swirling around your mouth.
“F-fucking ride me Chaewon”, you managed to get out through gaps in the kiss. Chaewon took your hands in her own, pinning them to the floor at each side of your head.
“Then take your pants off”, she said, before locking lips again. You pushed against her restraining hands, but with her ass on your chest, you couldn’t get the leverage to push against her entire weight.
You started squirming, kicking out with your legs, trying something, anything to get those damn pants off. Annoyance welled up inside you, and you remembered the situation. Chaewon? Taking control? And you were just idly letting her? Maybe this Karina thing was affecting you more than you thought. No, this wasn’t you at all.
“Fuck… you”, you hissed, still fighting to free yourself.
Chaewon pulled away, smiling. You instinctively reached up to reconnect your lips. She gave you a couple pecks before sitting up straight. “You say that, but your kissing me like I might leave”
“Fuck…”
“Mhmm?” she sang.
“Fuck… fuck… me please.”, you said. Chaewon stayed there, a playfully disappointed facade appearing. “Fuck me please, Ms. Manager”, you knew to add.
She smiled again. “Didn’t I tell you to take your pants off?”, she asked.
You fought against her hold, tried to buck her off of you with your hips, but Chaewon rode the movements with practiced balance, smiling all the while. Her hair fell perfectly towards you as she leaned over you. “Go on, take them off”, she egged.
You gritted your teeth. “I… I can’t”, you admitted, giving up on bucking her off of you.
She put on a staged pouting face. “Aww. You’re such a useless cow aren’t you. Would you like me to help?”
It was a wonder your teeth hadn’t shattered into a literal 4 trillion pieces the way you gritted them. But your cock was practically tearing a hole in your sweats, so you’d have to put aside being called a useless cow. “Please”, you begged.
“Please?”
“Please, Ms. Manager”
She turned, reaching for your pants. “Lift your hips”, she said hurriedly. You did as she told, and she slid your pants off. Your cock sprang free with aggression. Chaewon grabbed it, her relatively cold hand sending shivers up through your hot cock.
“Fuck, Chaewon”, you moaned, squirming underneath her. She worked her hand up and down your shaft with painful patience. Soon, your cock was lathered in your own leaking precum. You could feel the warmth of Chaewon’s pussy soaking through your shirt.
She turned towards you, leaving your throbbing cock alone once again. “Chaew- Miss Manager please. Please fuck me”, you begged. Even she couldn’t hold back. The look in her eye had subsided from that mischievous teasing to pure lust.
She palmed your chest, lifting her hips high, panties still pushed to the side revealing her perfect slit. Your hands were now free, but Chaewon lowered herself onto you before you could grab her hips. You almost blew your load right there and then.
The warmth that hit your cock wrapped it in perfect snugness. Your hands flung to Chaewon’s hips, moans mixing with hers to create the perfect melody. Chaewon grabbed your hands from her hips, pinning them once again.
She worked her hips upwards, the sensation on your cock overwhelming. “W-wait”, you moaned.
“This is what you begged for, baby”, Chaewon teased. “You better hold on”
Chaewon worked her hips with expert precision, starting slow at first. She slid up and down your cock in perfect rhythms, speeding up as you fought the pressure building up inside of you. Her hips bounced with hypnotic force, the assault growing in speed. Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of the soft squelches of her pussy sucking in your cock and the slaps of her ass on your pelvis, only to be drowned out by your moans.
“I’m gonna make you forget about her, just focus on me”, she promised, but the words fell on deaf ears, your mind already lost in perfect bliss.
Her hips bounced up and down, mesmerizing every ounce of your body. The way her ass moved on you was mind altering.
“I’m gonna fucking cum”, you whimpered. She too grew increasingly more sex drunk, her face contorting into focused pleasure. Her walls tightened on yours as she rode you.
The pressure was blinding, and the release was euphoric. You erupted inside of her. The pressure that welled inside you released in Chaewon’s tightening walls. Chaewon’s orgasm came in tandem with yours. She threw her head back in ecstasy, cowboy hat sliding off her head. Your hands reached up to her in the haze, pulling her close to you. Your lips locked as she collapsed on top of you, saliva mixing in muddled passion.
The waves of pleasure continued, each spurt drawing more and more of your focus. Chaewon laid there, head resting on your chest. Your face was a mess of saliva and sweat. Her walls gradually loosened, spilling the contents of your orgasm as your softening member slid out.
“That was…”, you started after a while.
“Yeah”, she agreed. She didn’t move to get up, instead shifting slightly. You steadied her in your arms, wrapping them around her.
You both lay there letting your breathing steady and minds clear.
“I can’t believe you came inside of me”, she said in annoyance.
“Well, you didn’t give me many options did you?” You said, shocked at her sudden accusation.
“I can’t believe we did this again”, she said, ignoring your previous statement.
“Yeah”, you admitted. “I guess this supply closet is kind of cursed. And might I remind you it was you who forced me down to the floor”
She reached up to your face, hand softly cupping your cheek. “Yeah? And who was it who begged me to ride them?”
Right back to the back and forth, you thought. Your hand found her hair, administering soft strokes.
“Chaewon?”, you said after a while
She didn’t respond at first. All you could hear for a while were the sounds of your breaths, yours still quick, hers deep and slow. “Yeah”, she said after a while.
“Thanks. For cheering me up”
“Don’t be an idiot”, she said, but you could hear the smile in her voice.
The bitter January cold nipped at your exposed skin. Maybe it’s finally time to get some gloves, you thought as you carried a box of pastries through a busy street. Snow whipped around you, scattering like each had a mind of its own. You trudged quickly through the slush on the ground.
Finally, it was payday. The first income you had in months, no matter how insubstantial. Of course, all of it would go to catching up on bills, and most importantly saving for the rent your landlord had threatened better be on time, which was why you had the mix of decadent eclairs and decorated croissants in your hand. The eclairs were of course for Eunchae, because she loved chocolate, and the croissants for Chaewon, because she loved the flakiness of them.
You could see the cafe just ahead. You opened the door to the empty shop, immediately hit with warmth and the sound of laughter. Eunchae turned at the bell, shouting your name.
“What are you doing here? Isn’t it your day off?”, she yelled excitedly.
You smiled, handing her the box. “Just thought I’d get you guys something”.
Chaewon peeked over the counter. “You got us pastries?”, she said.
“Yeah. Why don’t you sound impressed?”
“We work in a cafe. We make all of these ourselves”, she laughed.
“Oh stop, Chase, he just loves us so much he couldn’t help but get us something. Ooo, an eclair!”, she yelped, opening the box.
Chaewon’s smile slipped through. “I guess it’s kinda cute”, she said. “Anyway, it’s good you’re here. She should be here soon, you can help.”
You looked around the empty cafe. “Someone’s coming?”, you asked.
“Yeah, didn’t you check the work group chat? We finally hired that marketing specialist”, Chaewon said.
“He’s been known not to check his messages” Eunchae joked.
“Seriously? It’s my day off”, you said.
“Go on, put your jacket away”, Chaewon said casually, mouth already stuffed with a croissant. “And thanks for the croissant”
You didn’t argue. In fact, you were happy to help, spending the day with these two. You’d just never admit it to them. You took a step forward before the familiar sound of the door’s bell rang.
You turned around to find a girl. The first thing you noticed was her fiery red hair, sandwiched between two fluffy white earmuffs.
She took them off, letting the silky red hair flow. “Hi!”, she said confidently. “I’m the new marketing specialist”
Chaewon and Eunchae turned towards the door, eyes lighting up. Chaewon scurried around the counter smiling. “Hi! Yunjin, right?”
Literally no idea how this chapter came to be. I had so many plans for this chapter and hit almost 0 of the marks I wanted to hit, but oh well I guess.
Honestly I have no idea if I’m happy with this chapter, but I feel like cowboy Chaewon is something I can’t keep from the world, so please let me know how you all like it!
Also, this is the longest installment in the series. Do y'all dig a longer chapter?
It may be a while until my next CC (cafe cuties) update as I do want to focus on other fics. Specifically the Ice Queen series, which I have quietly been planning in my head. It is still a long way away, but I will keep you all posted.
And finally, that Eunchae chapter really popped off. I’ve been loving all the support you’ve been giving me! A lot of people liked how I wrote Eunchae, but now that we’ve seen a bit more of Chaewon, who’s your favourite? Chaewon and OC’s back and forth (which has now transcended conversation and infiltrated their fun times) or the softness of OC x Eunchae’s dynamic?
Irene was a petite Asian woman, standing only 5.1 feet tall. At 34 years old, she lived quietly with her infant child, whom she was still breastfeeding. After her husband passed away, she remained in the residential cluster he had purchased years earlier—a place filled with memories and long, silent nights.
For months, J had been approaching her in quiet, consistent ways. He brought food, offered help, and checked on her whenever he could. Despite his efforts, there was no real progress. Irene stayed polite but distant, her responses brief, her boundaries intact. J never forced his way in. He simply stayed, hoping that time might change something.
That change came unexpectedly at the exit of a supermarket.
Rain was pouring heavily, crashing down without pause. Irene stood near the sliding doors, holding her baby close to her chest. The parking lot was flooded, and there was no way she could walk through the rain while carrying her child. She waited, trapped between the storm and her responsibility as a mother.
A car slowed down near the exit.
The window rolled down, and J looked at her from the driver’s seat. His eyes quickly took in the situation—the rain, the baby in her arms, the hesitation on her face.
“Do you want a ride?” he asked.
Irene hesitated, glancing down at her baby before looking back at him. The rain showed no sign of stopping. After a brief pause, she nodded.
J parked quickly and stepped out, holding the door open and using his body to shield them from the rain. His clothes were soaked within seconds, but he didn’t seem to notice. Once Irene and her baby were safely inside the car, the door closed, muting the sound of the storm.
As the engine started and the car pulled away, the air inside was quiet and warm. For the first time, the distance between them felt different—not forced, not planned, but created by a moment neither of them could avoid.
J kept his hands steady on the wheel, but his pulse was wild. This was what he'd imagined so many nights—her in his space, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of her shampoo mixed with rainwater. His grip tightened just slightly, his knuckles whitening for a second before he forced himself to relax.
Irene adjusted the baby in her arms, shifting uncomfortably. She didn’t trust the silence, or the way his gaze flickered to her in the rearview mirror—too quick, too casual. There was something beneath the surface, like the slow burn of a fuse. But she had nowhere else to go.
Neither of them spoke. The rain drummed against the roof, filling the quiet with something restless. J exhaled slowly through his nose, resisting the urge to look at her again. Not yet. He had to be patient. The moment would come.
As he pulled into her driveway, the headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the peeling paint on her front door. Irene hesitated before unbuckling, her fingers lingering on the strap like she wasn't ready for this to end—or maybe afraid of what came next. "Thank you so much," she murmured, voice barely audible over the rain. "I don’t know how to repay your kindness."
J turned slightly, letting his gaze settle on her face for the first time without the excuse of the rearview mirror. Her lashes were still damp, her lips parted just enough to reveal the slightest tremor. "Maybe dinner at your home tomorrow," he said, watching the way her breath hitched.
A beat. Then, softer than the rain: "Okay." The word was so quiet he almost missed it, but the way her fingers tightened around her baby’s blanket told him everything. It wasn’t gratitude. It wasn’t fear. It was something raw, something neither of them had named yet.
By 8 PM the next evening, the air between them had thickened with unspoken tension. J stepped inside her house, the scent of simmering garlic and soy sauce wrapping around him. Irene stood by the stove, stirring a pot with one hand while the other cradled her sleeping baby against her chest. Her white tank top clung to her frame, the fabric thin enough to outline the swell of her breasts—and the faint, damp circles where her milk had leaked through. She hadn’t noticed.
"Need help?" J asked, rolling up his sleeves. His forearm brushed against hers as he reached for the knife to chop scallions. The contact was electric—too deliberate to be accidental. She didn’t pull away. "So you always handle the baby and this house alone?"
Irene exhaled through her nose, adjusting the baby’s weight. "Yeah. My husband died in a plane crash when I was seven months pregnant." The words were brittle, like old porcelain. The knife in J’s hand stilled mid-chop. "I’m sorry," he murmured, watching her throat bob as she swallowed.
"How about you?" she countered, stirring the pot harder than necessary. "Got a girlfriend?" J smirked, scraping scallions into the pan. "Still searching." The baby whimpered, and Irene glanced down—relieved for the distraction. "Your baby’s asleep?" he asked. She nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah she is in her room. If she wasn’t sleep, I couldn’t even prep dinner." Her voice dropped lower. "Couldn’t do a lot of things."
She turned toward the fridge—too fast. Her socked foot slid on a wet patch of spilled broth, and her body lurched backward with a startled gasp. J reacted instantly, dropping the knife with a clatter as he grabbed her waist, spinning them both to cushion her fall against his chest. Her palms flattened against his pecs, their faces suddenly inches apart. His breath hitched as he registered the warmth of her body pressing flush against his, the rapid flutter of her pulse where his thumb brushed her ribcage.
For three suspended heartbeats, neither moved. Then J tilted his head—slow, deliberate—giving her every chance to pull away. When she didn't, he closed the distance, capturing her lips in a kiss so tender it made her knees weaken. The taste of soy sauce and something intrinsically her flooded his senses as her fingers curled into his shirt.
When they finally broke apart, his breath ragged, J dragged his thumb along her swollen lower lip. "I think dinner can wait," he murmured against her mouth. "Where?" Irene didn't hesitate. "My room," she whispered, nodding toward the second floor. "Upstairs." The baby monitor clipped to her waistband blinked steadily green—safe, undisturbed.
They barely made it past the landing before his hands were under her tank top, her back hitting the wall as their mouths crashed together again. A sock, then her bra strap, then his unbuttoned shirt marked their path down the hallway like breadcrumbs. By the time they tumbled onto the bed, her laughter muffled against his shoulder.
J paused just long enough to yank the baby monitor off her waistband, setting it carefully on the nightstand before dragging his teeth down her throat. "Still okay?" he growled, palming the damp curve of her breast through her ruined tank top. In answer, Irene arched into his touch, her nails scoring down his back as she gasped, "Don't you fucking stop."
.
J's fingers hooked into the hem of her tank top, peeling it upward with a slow, deliberate drag that left goosebumps in its wake. The fabric caught briefly under her arms, clinging—until he tore it free with a rough tug that sent buttons scattering across the hardwood floor. Her bare skin flushed pink under the dim bedroom light, her nipples pebbling instantly in the cool air.
He didn't give her time to cover herself. One hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back as the other traced the swell of her hip, then dipped lower to snag the waistband of her cotton panties. They tore at the seam with a sharp rip, the sound making her gasp—half shock, half exhilaration. When his palm slapped down on her bare ass, the sting reverberated through her bones, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to stifle a moan.
J dragged his tongue up the column of her throat, tasting salt and rain and something indefinably her. "Look at you," he murmured against her pulse, fingers skating down her ribs to where her belly still carried the softness of childbirth. His thumb circled her navel—once, twice—before sliding lower, through the damp curls between her thighs. "Fuck, you're soaked already."
Irene gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily against his hand. "U sure that your baby didn't disturb us?" He said while circling her clit with slow, torturous precision, watching her thighs tremble. Her breath hitched, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Yeah," she panted, arching into his touch, "this room is soundproof. She will not wake up." He growled low in his throat—and then he was sinking one finger inside her without warning, her slick heat clenching around him instantly.
"Fuck, your finger is so big," Irene whimpered, her toes curling into the sheets. "It's like a real cock." She could feel him smirking against her neck as he added a second finger, stretching her deliciously. "That’s nothing," he murmured, twisting his wrist to drag his knuckles against her inner walls. "Wait till you feel the real thing." Her thighs shook as he crooked his fingers just right, hitting that sweet spot that made her vision blur.
She came with a choked cry, her body bowing off the bed as pleasure ripped through her. J didn’t let up, fucking her through it until she was clawing at his wrist, oversensitive and wrung out. "Too much," she sobbed, but he just pinned her hips down with his free hand, his breath hot against her ear. "You can take it." His fingers pumped harder, faster, her wetness dripping down his wrist. "Gonna make you come again before I even fuck you."
Irene’s head thrashed against the pillows, her back arching as another orgasm crashed over her. This time, she screamed—raw and unfiltered—her nails raking down his back as her body convulsed. J finally slowed, easing his fingers out of her with a filthy, wet sound. He brought them to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum. "Taste even better than I imagined," he murmured, dragging his thumb over her swollen clit one last time. "Now it's my turn" He said.
He stood at the edge of the bed, stripping methodically—first his belt, then his jeans, then his briefs—until he was fully naked under the dim light. Irene gasped as his cock sprang free, thick and flushed, curving upward like a sword. Veins snaked along its length, the head glistening with pre-cum. "Fuck, you're so big," she breathed, her fingers clutching the sheets nervously. "Did you ever handle it?" J asked, palming himself with a slow stroke. "No," Irene admitted, swallowing hard. "Your fingers were already the biggest thing my pussy ever took."
Her gaze dropped lower, tracing the intimidating length. "How long is it?" she whispered. "Ten inches," J answered, stepping closer, "and seven inches girth." Irene whimpered.
His hands gripped her hips, flipping her effortlessly into a 69 position before she could protest. The sudden inversion made her gasp as her knees sank into the mattress, her wetness now hovering directly above his face while his cock loomed inches from her lips. "All things must wet," he growled, spreading her thighs wider with his palms, "ur pussy and my cock if this thing want to enter pussy."
The first swipe of his tongue was electric—broad and flat against her swollen folds, lapping up her slick with deliberate, hungry strokes. Irene moaned into his shaft, her lips parting instinctively to take the head into her mouth. The taste was musky and primal, pre-cum beading at the slit as she swirled her tongue around the crown. J rewarded her with a deep, vibrating groan that sent tremors through her thighs.
"Take it deeper, if u can't, use ur brain how to make all my cock wet," he commanded between licks, his fingers digging into her hips. She whimpered around his girth—already stretched by just the first few inches—but obeyed, twisting her head to drag her saliva-slicked lips down his shaft. When she reached her limit, she pulled off with a gasp, her free hand pumping what her mouth couldn't reach. The sound of her wet strokes mingled with his ragged breathing.
J retaliated by hooking her thighs over his shoulders and burying his face in her pussy, his nose brushing her clit as his tongue plunged inside. Irene cried out, her grip on his cock tightening involuntarily as pleasure crackled up her spine. He fucked her with his tongue in brutal, rhythmic thrusts, his stubble scraping her inner thighs raw. The dual sensation of his mouth and her own hand working his length was overwhelming—like standing in the center of a storm.
Then, without warning, he dragged her hips down, forcing her onto his face completely. His tongue curled upward, pressing against her g-spot as he inhaled deeply, drinking her in. Irene's vision whited out, her thighs clamping around his head as her orgasm ripped through her.
She barely registered the salty burst flooding her mouth—only the way his cock pulsed violently against her tongue, his groan vibrating through her thighs. Her lips sealed tight around him, swallowing every thick spurt as his hips jerked uncontrollably into her face.
When he finally pulled away, Irene gasped for air, her lips swollen and shiny. J wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his chest heaving. "Now," he rasped, flipping her onto her back in one fluid motion, "let's see if that tight little pussy can take me."
Her legs trembled as he settled between them, spreading her thighs wide with his knees. Irene's fingers dug into the sheets, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. "Please," she whispered, her voice cracking, "go slowly—I'm scared." J paused, his cock resting against her slick folds, his thumbs brushing away the tears already spilling down her cheeks. "Of course," he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. Then, without warning, he pushed forward, the thick head of his cock stretching her impossibly wide.
Irene cried out, her back arching off the bed as white-hot pain lanced through her. "So—hurt—fuck, I can't—" she sobbed, her nails raking red lines down his arms. J froze, his jaw clenched, sweat beading on his brow as he fought not to shove deeper. "Breathe," he ground out, his voice strained. "Just breathe through it." She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her temples as she whimpered, her body trembling beneath him. J stroked her hip, his touch unexpectedly gentle. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice rough but low. "Look at me while I take you."
Reluctantly, Irene opened her eyes—and found him staring down at her with an intensity that stole her breath. There was no mockery in his gaze, no impatience. Just raw, unfiltered hunger. "Good girl," he praised, his thumb brushing her clit in slow circles. "Now—" He rocked his hips, sinking another inch into her tight heat, and her moan this time was less pain, more shock. "Fuck," she gasped, her thighs shaking. "You're—so—big—" J smirked, his grip tightening on her hips. "And you're taking me so well," he murmured, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "Just wait till I'm all the way in."
Irene whimpered as he pushed deeper, her nails digging into his forearms. The stretch was unbearable—her body burning as he split her open wider, inch by relentless inch. Then, suddenly, his tip kissed her cervix, and her eyes flew open in shock.
He was only halfway in. Her breath hitched—half terror, half disbelief—but before she could protest, J slammed yhe rest of his length into her with one brutal thrust. Irene screamed, her back arching off the bed as white-hot pain lanced through her core. Tears spilled down her cheeks, her thighs trembling violently around his waist. Between them, a slick warmth spread—her pussy bleeding from the ruthless stretch.
J stopped moving. His fingers tightened around her hips, his breath ragged against her collarbone as he forced himself to still. "Breathe," he growled, his voice strained with restraint. His cock twitched inside her, swollen veins pulsing against her tender inner walls. Irene sobbed, her body trembling with aftershocks. "Hurts—" she choked out, her fingers scrabbling weakly at his shoulders. J exhaled sharply through his nose, his forehead pressed to hers. "I know," he murmured, his thumb brushing away her tears. "But you'll take it. You're built for this." His lips ghosted over her damp eyelashes. "Just need to adjust."
The pain dulled to a deep ache as her body gradually yielded. Irene's breathing steadied, her thighs relaxing incrementally around his waist. The stretch was still overwhelming—her pussy throbbing around his girth—but the sharp edges of pain had melted into something heavier, hotter.
"Move slowly," Irene gasped, her nails digging half-moons into his biceps. The words were barely audible, but J obeyed instantly. His strokes became languid, deep rolls of his hips that emphasized the punishing stretch rather than the friction. Every forward thrust nudged her cervix, sending shockwaves of dull pleasure-pain through her abdomen. The glide was torturously smooth now, her slickness easing the way as her body reluctantly adapted. Irene's moans turned breathy, her thighs flexing around him unconsciously. J smirked, nipping at her jaw. "Getting wetter," he noted, his fingers dipping between them to circle her clit. "Hurts so good, doesn't it?"
She could only nod, her hips twitching against his slow, deep strokes. The stretch still bordered on unbearable, but something had shifted—her body reacting instinctively to the fullness, her inner walls fluttering around his cock in reluctant welcome. J groaned appreciatively, his pace gradually increasing. "That's it," he murmured against her throat. "Take me like you were made for it." His thumb pressed harder against her clit, sending sparks up her spine. Irene arched into the touch, her breath hitching—and then she came with a startled cry, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock.
"It feels like I'm a virgin again," she gasped, her fingers clutching at the sheets as his hips pistoned into her with slow, deliberate strokes. The stretch was still overwhelming—her body rebelling even as it arched into each thrust, her inner walls fluttering around his girth like they were relearning how to take him. J chuckled darkly, his thumb smearing her wetness across her clit in rough circles. "You are," he growled, nipping at her earlobe. "For me."
Irene's breath hitched—then shattered as her orgasm ripped through her without warning. Her back arched violently off the bed, her thighs clamping around his waist as her pussy clenched in rhythmic spasms. J groaned, pulling out just as her muscles convulsed—knowing her ruined hole couldn't take the pressure. And then—boom—a gushing spray of liquid erupted into the air, her squirt hitting his chest in hot, pulsating streams while her body jerked like a live wire.
Her milk followed suit. As her back arched impossibly further, twin jets of breastmilk spurted from her swollen nipples—arcing through the air in perfect, glistening streams that splashed across his collarbones. J swore viciously, watching her unravel beneath him—her body wracked with the force of dual releases, her pussy still pulsing out slick as her tits painted them both in sticky white.
He didn’t hesitate. With one hand pinning her hip to the bed, he lunged forward and sealed his mouth over her left nipple, sucking hard just as another spurt hit the back of his throat. The taste exploded across his tongue—warm and subtly sweet, with an undercurrent of salt that made his cock twitch where it rested against her thigh. Irene gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as her body jerked beneath him, oversensitive but unable to pull away. "Fuck—too much—" she sobbed, but he just growled against her skin, his free hand kneading her other breast until milk trickled down his wrist.
When he finally pulled back, her nipple was puffy and glistening, milk beading at the tip like dew. J swiped his tongue over it once more—slow and deliberate—before meeting her dazed gaze. "Perfect," he rasped, his voice rough with satisfaction. His thumb brushed her abused clit, smearing her juices as her hips twitched involuntarily. "Now let’s see how many times I can make you do that before dawn."
Irene barely had time to register his words before he flipped her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up into the air. She gasped as the sudden movement made her breasts swing heavily beneath her, milk dripping onto the sheets. J ran his palm down the curve of her spine, pausing to squeeze her ass before spreading her cheeks wide. "Fuck," he growled, his voice thick with arousal. "Your pussy’s gaping so wide I can see your cervix from here."
Before she could react, he pushed forward—slow and smooth—his cockhead kissing the entrance of her cervix with terrifying precision. Irene screamed into the mattress, her fingers clawing at the sheets as he breached that impossibly tight ring of muscle. Her body convulsed around him, her inner walls fluttering wildly as he stretched her even deeper than before. "There we go," J murmured, his hands gripping her hips possessively. "Taking me like a good girl."
He didn’t stop until his balls were pressed flush against her slick folds, her cervix stretched obscenely around the base of his cock. Irene sobbed brokenly, her body trembling with overstimulation—but even as tears spilled down her cheeks, her hips pressed back against him instinctively. J groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled out agonizingly slow—only to slam back in with a brutal thrust that made her scream again. "That’s it," he praised, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take every inch."
Her eyelids fluttered wildly, the pleasure too intense to process—but every time she tried to keep them open, another ruthless stroke sent them rolling back. She could feel him swelling inside her, his cock pulsing against her battered walls as his thrusts grew erratic. Irene gasped, her nails clawing at the sheets. "Cum inside me," she begged, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Paint my walls—breed me—" The words tumbled out raw and unfiltered, her hips grinding back against him desperately.
J swore violently, his rhythm stuttering as his orgasm crashed over him. His hips pistoned into her erratically, his cock twitching deep inside her as hot cum flooded her womb in thick, pulsing spurts. Irene whimpered, her body convulsing around him—her pussy milking every last drop as his seed painted her insides white. He collapsed over her, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he rode out the aftershocks, his breath hot against her damp skin.
Then—without warning—he flipped her onto her back again, his spent cock sliding free with a wet pop. The sudden emptiness made her gasp, her ruined hole clenching around nothing before erupting in another gushing spray. Streams of translucent liquid arched through the air, splattering across his chest and stomach in erratic pulses—her body spasming uncontrollably as she squirted for the third time that night.
Almost simultaneously, twin jets of breastmilk spurted from her swollen nipples—glistening white arcs that painted his collarbones and chin in sticky rivulets. J growled, dragging his tongue through the mess as it dripped down his pecs. "Fucking perfect," he rasped, palming her breasts to coax out another thick stream. The milk hit his lips just as her pussy gave one final, shuddering gush—soaking the sheets beneath them in a warm, slick puddle.
With a brutal grip on her hips, J flipped Irene onto all fours, her swollen breasts swaying heavily beneath her. He mounted her from behind in one fluid motion, his cock spearing into her ruined hole with a wet slap that sent milk droplets flying. Each thrust now came with an obscene squelch—her overstimulated pussy still clenching rhythmically around him while her nipples leaked in time with their pounding rhythm. The headboard slammed against the wall in a staccato beat, punctuated by Irene's broken sobs as her body kept convulsing through involuntary orgasms.
J leaned forward, biting the nape of her neck as he reached around to pinch both nipples hard. The resulting spray hit the wall in twin parabolic arcs, some droplets catching the dim lamplight like liquid pearls. Beneath them, the mattress grew swampy—a mixture of milk, squirt, and sweat that made their skin stick together with every savage thrust. "Look at you," he snarled against her ear, his hips pistoning relentlessly. "Dripping from every fucking hole."
Irene's arms gave out, her cheek smearing against the soaked sheets as J rode her through another climax. Her vision whited out when he suddenly yanked her head back by the hair—exposing her throat just as his cock swelled impossibly thicker inside her. She barely registered his roar above the blood rushing in her ears, but she felt it—the scalding flood of his cum painting her insides in thick, pulsing waves that somehow triggered yet another gush from her oversensitive pussy. The last thing she saw before blacking out was their combined fluids dripping off the edge of the bed in glistening strands.
She came to midair, her back pressed against J's sweat-slicked chest as he lifted her effortlessly. His forearms hooked under her thighs, spreading her wide open while her breasts bounced freely—milk spraying in erratic arcs with every jolt of his thrusts. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her mouth slack as she watched her own pussy take him over and over from this impossible angle, her swollen lips stretched obscenely around his cock each time he bottomed out.
"Look," J growled, adjusting his grip to bounce her harder on his shaft. Her dangling feet kicked uselessly as another jet of milk hit the ceiling fan—the droplets raining back down onto their heaving bodies like warm summer rain. Beneath them, her squirt splattered against his thighs with filthy, rhythmic splashes timed perfectly with each downward slam of her body.
Irene's scream fractured into breathless whimpers when he suddenly angled her hips just right—his cockhead grinding against some deep, untouched place that made her vision pulse red at the edges. Her fingernails carved half-moons into his forearms as her body locked up, her pussy clamping down in vicious spasms that milked him relentlessly through another orgasm neither of them could stop.
J snarled something guttural against her throat—part curse, part prayer—as his thrusts turned jagged and uneven. Irene could feel him swelling impossibly thicker inside her, his cock twitching violently against her battered walls before erupting in another scalding flood. This time, his cum didn't just fill her—it overflowed, spurting back out around the stretched rim of her pussy in thick, creamy rivulets that dripped down her trembling thighs.
The sensation triggered something primal in her body. Irene's back arched violently, her fingernails raking bloody trails down J's shoulders as her milk sprayed across his chest in erratic pulses—hot streams splattering his collarbones, his jaw, the frantic pulse of his throat. Simultaneously, her pussy convulsed around him, gushing another wave of slick that soaked his balls and thighs with a sound like tearing silk.
J adjusted his grip, fingers digging into the meat of her ass as he lifted her higher—her body now suspended midair, impaled on his cock with nothing but his strength keeping her aloft. Her legs trembled around his waist, her thighs slick with their combined fluids as he began pistoning upward in brutal, shallow thrusts that made her cervix scream. Each snap of his hips sent fresh milk arcing through the air, droplets catching in Irene's own eyelashes before dripping down her flushed cheeks like grotesque tears.
Their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling—hers ragged and wet, his controlled and dark. "Watch," J commanded, slowing his thrusts to an agonizing crawl. Irene's dazed gaze flickered downward just as he pulled nearly all the way out, his glistening cockhead stretching her ruined entrance obscenely wide before slamming back in to the hilt. Her scream this time was silent—her voice shattered beyond sound—as her body answered with another dual eruption: breastmilk hitting his chin in a thick stream while her pussy sprayed across his abs in transparent pulses.
He didn't let her recover. J's fingers tightened around her hips, his rhythm turning punishing as he chased his own release. The slap of skin grew louder, wetter—each thrust now accompanied by the squelch of overflowing cum being ruthlessly fucked back into her battered hole. Irene's legs spasmed uncontrollably, her toes curling as another orgasm tore through her with the violence of a lightning strike.
When her knees finally buckled, J caught her effortlessly—pinning her against the wall with her thighs hooked over his forearms. The new angle had his cockhead grinding against her swollen cervix with every upward thrust, her milk spraying across his chest in erratic spurts that matched their ragged breathing. "Please—J—it's enough—I can't—" she sobbed, her fingers scrabbling weakly at his shoulders.
He ignored her, his teeth sinking into the junction of her neck as he pistoned into her harder—her limp body bouncing against the wall with every brutal stroke. The headboard rattled violently behind them, the sound drowned out by Irene's shattered whimpers and the obscene splash of fluids dripping onto the floorboards below. Her vision blurred at the edges, her body no longer her own—just a vessel for his relentless pleasure.
Then—without warning—he yanked her forward by the hair, her back arching obscenely as he came with a roar that shook the windows. Hot cum flooded her womb in thick, pulsing waves, her pussy milking him dry even as her legs gave out completely. J held her upright through the aftershocks, his lips pressed to her temple in something almost tender—until her knees finally hit the floor, her ruined body collapsing in a shaking heap of overspent flesh.
Irene barely registered being gathered into his arms—just the dizzying shift of perspective as he laid her limp form on its side, curling behind her in a possessive spoon. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, her lips parting on a silent gasp when his palm slid between her thighs to find her clit still twitching. J chuckled darkly against her nape, his fingers circling lazily through the mess of cum still leaking from her stretched hole. "One last time," he murmured, his spent cock already stirring against the cleft of her ass.
She couldn't speak—could only whimper as he notched himself at her ruined entrance, his thick head catching on swollen flesh before pushing in with one smooth roll of his hips. The stretch was agony and ecstasy combined, her body no longer resisting but welcoming the familiar invasion. J groaned against her shoulder, his thrusts slow and deep—each one coaxing another thin stream of cum to dribble down her inner thighs. His fingers found her nipples, pinching just hard enough to make milk spurt across the sheets in glistening arcs.
By the time dawn painted the room in soft gold, Irene was limp beneath him—her breath shallow, her eyelids fluttering in unconscious surrender. J fucked her through his climax with brutal precision, his cock pulsing deep inside her as the first rays of sunlight caught on the mess between them. Cum spilled from her gaping pussy in thick rivulets, mixing with streaks of blood on her trembling thighs. Her breasts still leaked weakly, milk pooling in the hollow of her slack mouth as her head lolled to the side.
When he finally pulled out, the sight was obscene—her ruined hole struggling to close around nothing, lips bruised and glistening with their combined fluids. J dragged his fingers through the mess, smearing it across her hipbones before gripping her waist possessively. "Mine," he growled, though she was too far gone to hear it. Her legs remained splayed wide, knees trembling even in unconsciousness, as if her body couldn’t forget the shape of him.
He didn’t bother cleaning her up. Instead, J hauled her closer, tucking her sticky body against his chest as sunlight crept across the rumpled sheets. Her nipples still beaded with milk when his thumb brushed them absently, and he smirked against her tangled hair—already counting the hours until he could wreck her all over again.
J lifted Irene effortlessly, her limp limbs draping over his forearms like a broken doll as he carried her downstairs. The couch creaked under their combined weight when he sprawled onto it, pulling her tight against him. His palm splayed across her bare stomach, fingers pressing into the soft swell where his cum still leaked sluggishly between her thighs.
Her breath hitched in sleep when he bit the nape of her neck—a silent claim. J exhaled against her damp skin, inhaling the musk of sweat and sex clinging to her body. Outside, birds chirped obliviously as his hand slid lower, fingertips tracing the swollen rim of her pussy just to feel her twitch.
The clock ticked on the wall, but J didn’t move. He kept her there—trapped between his thighs, his cock already hardening against the cleft of her ass.
The baby monitor crackled to life. A whimper, then a full-throated wail split the silence. Irene's body jerked—instinct overriding exhaustion—but her muscles screamed in protest as she tried to sit up. Her legs gave out immediately, sending her crashing to the floor in a tangle of limp limbs. She gasped, her palms stinging against the hardwood, her thighs trembling too violently to push herself up.
J's hand closed around her upper arm before she could try again, hauling her upright with effortless strength. "Just lay down here," he ordered, guiding her onto the couch with a firm grip. His thumb brushed the inside of her elbow—a fleeting tenderness—before he turned toward the stairs. Irene watched, dazed, as his bare back flexed with each step, his shoulders still gleaming with sweat and streaks of her milk.
Upstairs, the crying stopped abruptly. The sudden silence sent a jolt through Irene—her nipples throbbing as milk leaked in hot rivulets down her ribs. She could hear J murmuring something low and rough, then the creak of the crib. A moment later, his footsteps descended—slow and measured—the baby's soft coos mingling with the rhythmic squeak of the stairs.
When he reappeared in the doorway, the morning light caught the curve of his forearm beneath the bundled blanket. Irene's breath hitched—her fingers twitching toward her daughter—but J didn't move. He just stood there, watching her struggle to lift her arms, his gaze dark with something unreadable. The baby squirmed, her tiny fist brushing his tattooed knuckles as he finally stepped forward. "Here," he said, voice rough. Not handing her over. Placing her directly against Irene's bare chest. His palm lingered—hot and heavy—between the baby's back and Irene's pounding heart.
"Must be responsible," Irene muttered through gritted teeth, her thighs quivering as she adjusted to the weight. "My bedroom was a mess because of you and I can't even feel my bones right now." She glared up at him, her nipples already leaking onto the baby's blanket as tiny fingers batted at her swollen breast. J smirked, running a thumb through the milk pooling in the hollow of her collarbone before bringing it to his mouth.
"But your bed is messed up because of your milk and squirt," he teased, licking his finger clean with exaggerated slowness. "So I think it's your fault." Irene's stare could have flayed skin from bone. The baby whimpered between them, her tiny mouth blindly searching for Irene's nipple—forcing her to break eye contact. J exhaled sharply through his nose, crouching to swipe a damp cloth from the coffee table.
"Just kidding," he murmured, pressing the warm cloth between her thighs without warning. Irene jolted, her thighs clamping around his wrist instinctively as he cleaned her with slow, methodical strokes. "I'll help you." His other hand came up to cradle the back of the baby's head—guiding her tiny mouth to Irene's leaking nipple with terrifying gentleness.
Upstairs, the bedroom door clicked shut with deliberate finality. J worked silently—sheets stripped, mattress flipped, fresh linens smoothed over sweat-stained pillows with military precision. The scent of sex still clung to the walls, but the physical evidence disappeared under his ruthless efficiency. The ruined sheets went into a black trash bag; the headboard's scuff marks vanished beneath a layer of polish.
By the time his footsteps descended again, Irene had slumped against the armrest—the baby nursing drowsily while her own eyelids drooped. J crouched beside them, his fingers brushing a stray droplet of milk from the baby's cheek before sliding under Irene's knees. She didn't resist as he lifted them both effortlessly, her body folding bonelessly against his chest as he carried them upstairs.
The bed smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and something darker underneath. J laid them down carefully—Irene on her side, the baby curled against her breasts—before stretching out behind them both. His arm draped possessively over Irene's waist, his palm splayed across her stomach where his cum had long since dried.
Three months later, Irene's thighs still ached pleasantly whenever she slid into J's car. The leather seats bore the faintest indentation from that first night—a memory etched into material. J's fingers tapped the steering wheel absently as they sped toward the coastline, his other hand resting high on her bare thigh. The baby was safe with his parents for the weekend—their first real trip alone since that rain-soaked beginning.
The beach was deserted when they arrived, the sun hanging low and molten over the water. Irene stumbled slightly in the sand, still unused to the way her body felt after childbirth, after him. J caught her effortlessly, his hands spanning her waist as he pulled her against his chest. "Clumsy," he murmured into her hair, but his grip was tender as he guided her to a secluded spot where waves lapped at their toes.
They ordered grilled lobster and champagne from the nearby shack, feeding each other sticky-sweet bites between kisses that tasted of salt and citrus. J's lips traced the shell of her ear as the sky bled into violets and pinks, his hands kneading the swell of her hips possessively. Irene arched into his touch, her sundress riding up as she straddled his lap—until suddenly, J gripped her waist and stood, depositing her gently in the sand.
Then he dropped to one knee. The sunset haloed his shoulders in gold as he produced a velvet box—inside, a raw red sapphire glowed like a captured ember in its twisted platinum setting. "Will you marry me?" His voice was rougher than she'd ever heard it. The waves stilled. Irene's fingers trembled as she reached for him, her throat working soundlessly—until J's palm cupped her jaw, his thumb swiping away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen. "Say it," he growled, the command slipping out unbidden. Irene laughed wetly, surging forward to crush her lips against his. "Yes," she breathed against his mouth. "Yes, you bastard." The ring slid onto her finger like it had always belonged there.
She pulled back abruptly, scrambling for her beach bag—her sundress fluttering wildly as she dug through the woven straw. J's brow furrowed when she surfaced with a plastic stick clutched in her shaking fingers. The second pink line glowed unmistakably in the dying light. His hand froze midair, hovering between them like he'd been electrocuted. "So you'll have a baby from my seed?" he rasped—a question and a challenge rolled into one. Irene grinned, wild and bright, pressing the test against his palm. "Yes," she whispered. "And if you keep gaining more wealth like this?" Her teeth flashed predatorily as she leaned in. "I'll let you breed me every year." Their laughter tangled together, swallowed by the crashing tide.
J's fingers tightened brutally around her wrist—yanking her forward until her belly pressed against his chest. His mouth crashed down in a kiss that tasted of salt and iron, his free hand already bunching her sundress up around her waist. The velvet ring box tumbled forgotten into the sand as he lifted her effortlessly—her legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "Now," he snarled against her swollen lips. "Right fucking now." The first thrust stole her breath—her back arching violently as he took her standing there in the surf, the waves licking hungrily at their tangled limbs. Somewhere down the beach, a startled seagull took flight—its cry lost beneath Irene's gasping moan.
Later—much later—when the tide had crept up to their ankles and J's cum was dripping steadily down her inner thighs, Irene traced the sapphire with her tongue. The metal still held the heat of his skin, the gemstone's facets catching the moonlight as she sucked it clean. J watched through heavy-lidded eyes, his fingers carding lazily through her tangled hair. "Next time," he murmured, thumbing the fresh bite mark on her shoulder, "I'll put a twin in your belly." Irene's laughter rang out across the empty beach—bright and unafraid.
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