──── ( ⚽ ) being ryujin’s girlfriend was supposed to mean safety, familiarity, a place you could stand without being questioned, but under the haze of music and lights you find yourself caught between winter’s piercing curiosity, minji’s playful provocation, and kazuha’s unreadable calm, realizing that her world doesn’t just welcome you into its orbit—it watches you closely, pushes at your boundaries, and quietly dares you to discover how much of yourself you’re willing to lose before something finally, inevitably changes.
𝓟aring. dom!playgirls!gp kim minjeong, gp kim minji & gp nakamura kazuha sub!best friend's girlfriend!fem reader.
𝓦ord 𝓒ount. 10,7k.
𝓒ontent 𝓦arnings. abuse of power, alcohol, anal, ass eating, bitting, blackmail, blowjob, body worship, breeding, choking, clit play, cunnilingus, cum eating, cum play, creampie, degradation, dirty talk, double penetration, dubcon, drugging, face fucking, facial, fingering, gropping, hair pulling, humiliation, jerking off, multiples orgasms, nipple play, pet names, praise, riding, slapping, slut shamming, spanking, squirting, throat fucking, titsucking, toxic dynamic.
𝓐 uthor’s 𝓝ote. this is for the anon who requested this about four days ago (see the post here!) sorry for the delay, but writing about a gangbang was HELL i went crazy writing about three people at the same time, but i really enjoyed it! also, while making this post i realized i completely forgot about the unnie kink and i did it g!p by mistake 😩
𝓜asterlist.
the moment we step into the university’s backyard, the first thing that hits you is the noise. it’s loud—maybe even louder than you expected. music pulses from massive speakers positioned haphazardly, the bass rattling your ribcage with every beat. the air is thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and the occasional burst of lighter fluid from someone’s cigarette. laughter, shouting, the clink of glasses—everything is layered on top of one another in a chaotic symphony that makes it impossible to think clearly. you had half a hope that this party was just a low-key gathering of students celebrating their football team’s win, but this is something else entirely.
ryujin, on the other hand, seems completely at ease. she moves through the crowd with the confidence of someone who belongs here—someone who is used to this kind of noise, this kind of life. you struggle to match her pace as she weaves through clusters of half-dressed students, some yelling over the music, others dancing in the middle of the yard or sprawled out on lawn chairs and picnic tables. the contrast between you and her has never felt more pronounced. she radiates comfort and familiarity, while you feel like a foreigner in a world that doesn’t know your language.
as you follow her, your eyes struggle to adjust to the dim lighting. the party seems endlessly populated with bodies, all moving, all laughing, all oblivious to you. you catch yourself edging closer to her, hoping that proximity will ground you in this unfamiliar territory. but even as she pulls you into a small group of people, you feel like an outsider, a curiosity who doesn’t belong.
the temperature is stifling, and the combination of sweat and the humid air makes your skin prickle uncomfortably. you don’t mind the cold, and this—this is something else entirely. you try to focus your attention, but it's impossible to ignore the way ryujin’s friends are watching you. not just the one who goes by the name winter, but also minji and kazuha. they don't smile, but they don't have to. their stares are enough to make you self-conscious. you tuck your hands into your pockets and hope they’ll stop. but they don’t. instead, they lean in, just a little. and it’s enough.
you can’t shake the feeling that their interest in you is more than just casual. winter—minjeong, but you’ve heard her go by that nickname often enough now to use it yourself—has always had this way of looking at you like she’s trying to read something that isn’t there. she’s not shy in her curiosity, and tonight is no different. from the moment you arrived, her gaze has been locked on you, sharp and calculating, like she’s measuring whether you’re worth the trouble of knowing. she’s built like a dancer, all long limbs and effortless posture, and when she lifts a hand to brush a loose strand of dark hair from her face, it’s the kind of movement that makes you wonder if she does it just to catch your attention.
beside her, minji smirks—just slightly, just enough for it to be noticeable but not overtly flirtatious. she's the kind of person who thrives in groups, always laughing, always in the middle of the action. her presence is electric, even now, despite the fact that she's standing completely still. her eyes flick to yours, the amusement in them impossible to miss, and for a moment, you're not sure whether she’s looking at you like a challenge or like you're part of the joke. she's already half-swaying to the music, one arm loosely draped around kazuha’s shoulder, as if their bodies are already conspiring in this silent little game.
kazuha, though—that's the one who unsettles you the most. she doesn’t move as much as the others, doesn’t laugh with the same effortless confidence. instead, she’s quiet, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, her expression unreadable beneath the dim light of the string bulbs overhead. but if you know anything about people, you know that the ones who seem the most composed are often the most dangerous. kazuha is elegant, all measured steps and carefully placed gestures, and when she shifts her weight just slightly, tilting her head as if she’s considering something, it feels like she’s deciding whether or not to test the waters with you.
together, they make a striking trio. winter, the bold one who would rather see the worst than live in ignorance. minji, the flirt who plays everything off with a laugh but never really forgets anything. kazuha, the quiet observer who watches everything and waits for the right moment to act. and now, they’re all watching you. not just with idle curiosity, but with something closer to intent.
you’ve spent years with ryujin, and while you’ve caught glimpses of her past—stories of her friends, the way they move through life with such ease—you’ve never been confronted with it like this. they’re not just watching you because you're her girlfriend. they're watching you because they want to see what you're made of. and for some reason, that thought makes your skin heat, even as you try to convince yourself that it shouldn’t.
ryujin’s group of friends is an inseparable force in their own right. they’re always together, their presence a defining feature of her social world. there’s haeun, loud and unapologetic, who dominates any conversation with her booming laughter and even louder opinions. then there’s yuna, a quiet observer who says little but listens everything, her sharp gaze always catching details the rest of the group might miss. and seulgi, who’s soft-spoken but effortlessly charming, her warmth drawing people in like an open door. together, they form ryujin’s inner circle, and they all seem to orbit around her like planets pulled by the same gravitational pull.
the group is tightly knit, surrounded by an atmosphere of familiarity and trust. they’re not just friends; they’re family. their banter is easy, their laughter frequent, and the way they move together feels rehearsed, like they’ve spent years refining their rhythm. but even within that circle, winter, minji, and kazuha stand apart. they’re part of the group, yes, but there’s a distinct edge to their dynamic, a sharpness that sets them apart from the others. where the rest of ryujin’s friends are content to simply exist in the orbit of her life, winter, minji, and kazuha seem to push against its boundaries, testing the limits of what that orbit can contain.
it’s hard to explain, but watching them now feels like watching something that’s always been just beneath the surface finally bubble up. they’re not just part of ryujin’s life—they’re part of your life too. and it’s not that you feel excluded; rather, it’s that their attention is too intentional, too focused. winter’s eyes follow you as if charting a course, minji’s smirk sharpens with every glance in your direction, and kazuha remains calm but unyielding, her gaze as still and steady as the surface of a lake. you can feel their energy building, a slow, deliberate pressure that makes your skin tingle.
you’d thought they might be content to play the role of ryujin’s best friends, their attention reserved for her and not spilling over into anything more. but you were wrong. they’re not just ryujin’s friends—they’re yours too, and that realization is both confusing and oddly thrilling. you can’t help but wonder if it was always like this, if their presence in ryujin’s life was always an invitation to know more about her, to see her world through a different lens. but you weren’t expecting the way they seem to look at you, as if you’re something they want to taste.
and ryujin, of course, is completely unaware. she’s standing in the middle of the group, laughing at something haeun has just said, completely at ease with the world around her. she’s not noticing the way winter’s fingers toy with the string of her jacket, or how minji’s shoulder brushes against yours just a little too long. she’s not seeing the way kazuha’s eyes flick between her and you, as if weighing something in her mind. and for some reason, that makes the situation even more surreal. you’re here, in the center of it all, caught between ryujin’s world and the unspoken tension that radiates from her three best friends. it’s a strange place to be, and you can’t help but wonder how long it will last before something changes.
ryujin excuses herself with a gentle pat on your arm, her smile warm and unguarded as she says she'll just be a minute. you watch as she weaves through the crowd, her voice barely audible over the music as she calls out to winter, minji, and kazuha. the space between you feels immediately expansive, the weight of the music and the crowd pressing in. you’re alone now, and you can feel the shift in the air. the tension that had been simmering in the background—those lingering glances, the knowing smirks—suddenly becomes the center of your attention.
the three of them drift closer, the music and laughter of the party muffled by the quiet moment that wraps around you. you try to look away, to focus on the flashing lights above or the bottles of beer abandoned on a nearby table, but it’s no use. winter is the first to speak, her voice smooth and deliberate as she leans in just enough for her words to feel like a secret.
“you know,” she says, her eyes locking onto yours, “i always wondered what it would be like to see you in her place.”
before you can respond, minji lets out a soft laugh and steps in beside her. her tone is playful but edged with something else—something close to a dare. “and here we all thought you were the one holding her hand tonight. guess that makes you the backup, huh?”
kazuha, ever silent in her own ways, just watches for a moment before stepping forward with the measured grace of someone who knows exactly how the game is played. she takes one step closer, just enough to fill the space between them, and you feel the heat of her presence like a slow burn. “she has no idea,” she says, her voice a deep murmur barely audible over the party. “but you do.”
it hits you then—how easy this is for them. how effortless it must be to move through the world like this, to claim your attention even as ryujin stands only a few feet away. they don’t ask for permission. they don’t need it. and somehow, that makes your pulse quicken.
you feel the heat from them radiating in waves, each step they take bringing them closer, pressing you into the world they control so effortlessly. winter’s voice is low, deliberate, as if she’s already decided how this will end. her presence is magnetic, the kind of boldness that makes you want to both bolt and stand your ground. she steps so close now that you can catch the faint scent of her perfume—something crisp and clean, like she’s trying to mask something more dangerous under layers of subtlety. her fingers brush against your wrist as she leans in, and you have to steady yourself.
minji is next, her laughter soft and low, the kind of sound that makes you want to laugh along even if you don’t know why. she brushes against your side with the kind of casual familiarity that should feel innocent but instead feels like a test. “what if we played a game?” she asks, her voice a lilting tease. “just between us, while ryujin’s not looking. no cheating, no rules—just you and us.”
you open your mouth to say something, to pretend you don’t know what she means, but you’re already sinking into it. ryujin is only a few feet away, laughing and smiling with her friends, completely oblivious to the shift in the air. the thought that you could be caught—should be caught—adds an electricity that you can’t ignore.
kazuha steps into the space between you and her friends, her presence slower, more deliberate. she doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to. she just watches, her dark eyes unreadable as they flick between the two of you. her silence speaks louder than any words. you know exactly what this is—the kind of game where you can’t look away, even if you want to.
and suddenly, it’s not just a party anymore.
the game has begun, and you feel every move like a brush against your skin. winter, minji, and kazuha don’t need to speak much—words are more of a formality now, while the dance between them and you is silent but deliberate. you can feel the weight of their attention pressing in, their confidence a quiet storm that you can’t seem to escape, even when your mind is screaming at you to push back. ryujin is only a few feet away, her laughter drifting faintly to your ears, but her presence feels distant now, like it's being filtered through a fog of something else entirely.
winter is the first to make her move. her hand glides up your arm, fingers grazing the edge of your sleeve like she’s testing the water. her voice is smooth and low, a whisper against your ear as she murmurs, “you don’t have to fight it. not yet.” her gaze is sharp, deliberate, like an artist studying the brushstrokes of her canvas. she doesn’t blink, doesn’t wait for a response, and it’s that confidence that unsettles you the most. you’re torn between wanting to pull away and being drawn deeper into the current she’s setting the course for.
minji follows, her laughter bubbling up like a playful melody as she steps closer. her smile is bright but laced with a challenge, her eyes sparkling with mischief. she leans against you, her shoulder brushing yours with just enough weight to feel intentional. “you’re not used to this, are you?” she teases, her voice a lilting lilt of amusement. “let me guess—the thought of you and us makes your heart race. admit it.” she’s not asking for confirmation—she already knows, and that realization makes your breath hitch. she tilts her head, her expression one of pure curiosity, like she’s waiting for you to break under the pressure of her words.
kazuha, however, moves like a shadow compared to the bright flashes of winter and minji. her presence is quieter but no less commanding. she steps into the space between them, her body coiled like a spring waiting to release. her eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something in them that makes you feel like she’s seeing directly into your thoughts. she doesn’t speak, but her silence is a language of its own. when her hand lands lightly on your shoulder, it’s like a seal on the game. you feel the air shift, the tension rising as each of them takes a position around you, their energy radiating like a heat–seeking missile.
this is not a game you can win—or even understand. it’s too fluid, too unpredictable, and far too intimate for you to simply walk away. you can feel them pulling at different threads of your resolve, each one feeding off the other’s energy. winter pushes you, her boldness a sharp contrast to the softness of minji’s teasing, while kazuha watches, her calm presence a reminder of what could happen if you give in completely. the three of them are a perfect storm, and you’re caught in the eye of it.
and yet, you don’t want to stop. even as your mind rebels, your body betrays you, responding to the way they move, the way they look at you like you’re the center of their world. you can feel your pulse quickening, your breath slowing, your thoughts dissolving into fragments that don’t make sense. winter’s hand lingers on your arm, minji’s laughter vibrates in your chest, and kazuha’s gaze holds you in place. you don’t know how long it will last—or if ryujin will ever know what happened here. but in this moment, it doesn’t matter. because the game has already started, and you’re playing to win.
when ryujin returns, it’s like the world snaps back into focus. she greets you with a soft smile, dragging in a deep breath of cigarette smoke before flicking her lighter shut with a sharp click. you try to steady your expression, to compose yourself, but the imprint of winter’s hand on your arm, minji’s whisper in your ear, and kazuha’s unreadable gaze still lingers. you feel like you’re standing in the aftermath of something that should have been impossible—something that still doesn’t have a name.
the three of them don’t pretend like nothing happened. their glances are too knowing, their presence too deliberate as they fall back into the rhythm of the party. you can’t decide if they expect you to chase them now, to say something, to do anything at all. you haven’t had time to process, to figure out what just happened. you only know this is far from over.
as the night went on and the alcohol flowed freely, you found yourself getting more and more tipsy. suddenly, you felt a group of hands grabbing you, pulling you up from the couch. before you could react, winter, minji, and kazuha had dragged you into an empty bedroom down the hall, slamming and locking the door behind them.
in the darkness of the room, you could make out their silhouettes, surrounded by the faint glow of the party still happening outside. your heart raced as you realized you were now alone with ryujin’s friends, completely at their mercy.
kazuha, the tallest among them, stepped forward. you could see her eyes glinting with a hungry, predatory look as she circled around you like a shark. “finally, we have you all to ourselves.” she said, her voice low and seductive. “ryu has been keeping you all to herself, but now it’s our turn to play with you.”
winter and minji exchanged wicked grins, their eyes roaming over your curves, undressing you with their gazes. they advanced on you, cornering you between them and the wall. you could feel the heat of their bodies, the anticipation of what was to come.
minji grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her as she crashed her lips against yours in a rough, dominating kiss. her tongue invaded your mouth, claiming it as her own. she bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste flooding your mouth. when she broke the kiss, allowing you to gasp for air before attacking your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks.
kazuha didn’t waste any time, her hands already under your shirt, groping and squeezing your tits. she pinched your nipples hard, rolling the sensitive buds between her fingers until they hardened into stiff peaks.
winter watched the show, rubbing her cunt through her jeans as she enjoyed seeing her friends ravish your body. she couldn’t wait to get her turn with you. she wanted to see you fall apart, to hear you scream and beg for more as they used you like a toy. “that’s it, you perfect little slut. you’re ours now.” she growled, ready to pounce.
winter grabbed your hair, yanking your head back as she crashed her lips against yours in a brutal, dominating kiss. her tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming every inch of it as her own. she explored you ruthlessly, tasting every corner, every crevice, leaving no part of your mouth unexplored.
the three friends continued their relentless assault on your body, touching and groping every inch of you. they tore at your clothes, ripping fabric in their haste to expose your bare skin. winter’s hands roamed your curves, squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts, while kazuha groped your ass, kneading the round globes like dough.
minji pushed you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you. she straddled your waist, her core grinding against yours as she pinned your wrists above your head. she leaned down, her breasts pressing against yours as she captured your lips in another searing kiss. her tongue dominated yours, swirling and tangling, as she swallowed your whimpers and moans.
winter and kazuha took the opportunity to explore more of your body. they lavished attention on your breasts, suckling and biting at the sensitive flesh. teeth and tongues marked your skin, leaving reddened bites and dark hickeys in their wake. winter moved lower, her mouth trailing down your stomach, her tongue dipping into your navel.
minji broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting her lips to yours. she sat back, taking in the debauched sight of your naked body splayed out beneath her and her friends. your chest heaved with each ragged breath, your nipples hard and aching, just begging to be touched. your pussy was dripping wet, your juices coating your inner thighs.
*minji looked over at her friends, a wicked grin on her face. “look at this perfect little fucktoy, all ready for us to ruin… so fucking cute.” she said, giving your nipple a sharp twist. “i can’t wait to feel this tight cunt wrapped around my fingers, my tongue, my dick…”
kazuha licked her lips, her eyes dark with lust. “me neither. i want to see her fall apart on our dicks, begging for more.” she said, giving your ass a hard smack. “let’s fuck her until she can’t even remember her own name.”
winter licked her lips, her hand moving down to rub her dripping cunt through her jeans. “sounds like a plan. but first, i want to taste her. i bet she’s fucking delicious.” she said, moving between your legs. she pushed them apart, exposing your glistening folds to their hungry gazes and mouths.
winter dove between your legs without any hesitation, burying her face in your dripping cunt. her tongue delved into your folds, lapping up your juices like a woman starved. she moaned against your flesh, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your core.
at the same time, minji and kazuha descended upon your heaving breasts. they took a nipple each into their mouths, sucking and biting at the hard nubs. their tongues swirled around the sensitive flesh, teasing you mercilessly as they laved your tits with attention.
the triple assault on your senses was overwhelming. you could only throw your head back, a silent scream tearing from your throat as the pleasure consumed you. your fingers tangled in their hair, holding them close as they ravaged your body with their mouths.
winter’s tongue delved deeper, pushing into your tight channel. she fucked you with her tongue, her lips sealed around your clit as she sucked hard. the obscene slurping sounds filled the room, mingling with your wanton moans and cries.
minji and kazuha’s hands roamed your body, squeezing and groping every inch of you. they pinched and pulled at your nipples, twisting them just hard enough to ride the line between pleasure and pain. their fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, leaving reddened marks in their wake.
the pleasure built rapidly, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. winter could feel your walls fluttering around her tongue, your juices flooding her mouth. whe doubled her efforts, sucking harder, fucking you deeper with her tongue as she chased your release.
with a final, keening cry, your body convulsed, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you. your cunt clenched and spasmed, gushing your release into winter’s waiting mouth. she swallowed every drop, moaning in delight at the taste of your essence.
as you came down from your high, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, minji and kazuha tightened their grips on your thighs. they held you in place, spreading your legs wide open, fully exposing your sensitive, dripping cunt to winter’s hungry gaze.
winter licked her lips, taking in the glorious sight of your twitching, swollen folds. without warning, she plunged two fingers deep into your tight channel, pumping them in and out at a brutal pace. the wet, obscene sounds of her fingers fucking your cunt filled the air, mingling with your whimpers and moans.
minji and kazuha continued their assault on your breasts, sucking and biting harder, leaving dark, angry hickeys on the soft flesh. their hands roamed lower, squeezing and kneading the globes of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to expose your tight, puckered hole.
winter added a third finger, stretching you wider, filling you up so deliciously. her thumb rubbed hard circles around your clit, the rough pad stimulating the sensitive nub. she could feel your walls clenching around her invading fingers, trying to suck them deeper inside you.
*kazuha looked up at you with a wicked grin, her teeth still latched onto your nipple. “that’s it, you perfect little fucktoy. take winter’s fingers like the cock–hungry slut you are.” she growled, giving your nipple a sharp bite.
minji chuckled darkly, her hand moving down to squeeze your ass harder. “i can’t wait to feel this tight asshole wrapped around my dick. i’m going to ruin all your holes, make you forget your own name.” she promised, her voice dripping with lust and depravity.
winter’s fingers never stopped their relentless assault on your cunt, plunging in and out, curling to hit that special spot inside you with every thrust. she could feel your body tensing again, your walls starting to flutter around her invading digits. she knew you were close to another explosive orgasm.
“that’s it, cum slut. cum all over my fingers like the desperate whore you are.” winter growled, pounding into you harder, faster, determined to make you fall apart completely.
minji and kazuha redoubled their efforts on your tits, sucking and biting with wild abandon. they pinched and pulled at your nipples, twisting the sensitive buds until they were painfully hard and throbbing. their hands kneaded and squeezed your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.
suddenly, winter plunged a fourth finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you impossibly wide. at the same time, she sucked hard on your clit, her teeth grazing the sensitive nub. that was the final push you needed. your body convulsed violently, back arching off the bed as your second orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave.
you screamed, a high–pitched, almost animalistic sound tearing from your throat as your cunt clamped down around sinter’s fingers. your juices gushed out, flooding her hand, dripping down onto the bed. your breasts heaved, your chest flushed a deep, rosy red as minji and kazuha continued their ruthless assault, pushing you to ride out every last second of your intense climax.
as your orgasm finally started to subside, leaving you a shaking, drooling mess beneath them, winter slowly withdrew her soaked fingers from your fluttering cunt. she brought them up to her mouth, making a show of licking your juices off, savoring your taste with a wicked grin.
minji and kazuha finally released your abused nipples, leaving them throbbing and glistening with their saliva. they sat back, taking in the debauched sight of your naked, marked body, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.
winter looked at your trembling, fucked–out body splayed across the bed, a wicked gleam in her eyes. she could see the way your pussy was still twitching and dripping with each aftershock, your juices painting obscene streaks on the sheets beneath you. nut she wasn’t satisfied yet. no, this greedy bitch wanted more.
she grabbed your thighs, pushing them back towards your chest until your knees were practically touching your shoulders. this left your ass and cunt completely exposed and vulnerable to her, your holes winking and clenching in the cool air. winter licked her lips, a feral grin spreading across her face.
“one more for me, you filthy slut. just one more.” she growled, before diving back between your legs. she buried her face in your cunt, her tongue delving deep, lapping up the leftover juices like a starving animal. her hands gripped your ass cheeks, kneading and spreading them apart as she ate you out.
minji and kazuha watched with dark, lust-filled eyes as winter tongue–fucked your pussy. they could see how swollen and puffy your lips were, how red and angry the flesh looked from winter’s relentless assault. It was clear that she was determined to make you squirt again, to wring out every last drop of your pleasure and leave you a completely fucked–out mess.
winter’s tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and suckling the sensitive bud as she pushed two fingers back inside your tight channel. she pumped them slowly at first, curling them to rub that special spot inside you with every thrust. at the same time, she sealed her lips around your clit, sucking hard as she flicked the tip of her tongue rapidly over the nerve–packed flesh.
your body was so sensitive from the two orgasms already, and winter’s skilled ministrations quickly pushed you towards the edge again. you could feel the pressure building in your core, your walls starting to flutter and clench around her invading fingers. your thighs trembled, your toes curling as your pleasure mounted.
winter could feel your body tensing, your cunt gripping her fingers like a vice. she knew you were close. determined to make you squirt for her, she doubled her efforts, sucking harder on your clit as she pounded three fingers in and out of your dripping pussy.
your body seized up, back arching clean off the bed as your third orgasm slammed into you like a freight train. winter moaned against your cunt as she felt your pussy clench and spasm around her fingers, your juices gushing out in a powerful squirt. she aimed your twitching hole towards her open mouth, greedily drinking down your release as it poured out of you.
minji and kazuha watched in awe, their cocks straining against their pants at the erotic sight of you coming undone once again. winter’s face was glazed with your essence, your squirting pussy painting her cheeks, chin, and lips with your arousal. she licked and slurped, determined not to waste a single drop of your sweet nectar.
as your intense orgasm finally started to subside, your body went limp, collapsing back onto the bed. you were completely fucked out, your mind blank and your body spent. your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your skin flushed and slick with sweat. winter sat back with a triumphant grin, licking her lips and savoring the taste of your cum.
“fuck, look at you. you’re a complete mess.” kazuha said with a dark chuckle, giving your ass a hard spank. “i love seeing this perfect body marked up and ruined for us.”
minji smirked, rubbing herself through her jeans. “now that we’ve warmed you up, it’s time for the main event. get ready, slut, because we're going to fuck you senseless and paint your insides with our cum.”
ss your body recovered from the intense orgasm winter had forced upon you, minji decided it was her turn to have some fun. with a wicked grin, she crawled up the bed, her eyes fixated on your gorgeous, rounded ass. she licked her lips, eager to taste your most intimate area.
without warning, she buried her face between your ass cheeks, her tongue immediately starting to explore your tight, puckered hole. she dragged the flat of her tongue over your ass crack, tracing the curve of your ass before flicking the tip against your tight hole. your body shuddered at the new sensation, your hole clenching instinctively.
minji groaned in appreciation as she lapped at your ass, her hands squeezing and kneading the plump flesh. she spread your cheeks wider, exposing you even more to her hungry mouth. her tongue circled your puckered entrance, teasing you mercilessly before plunging inside.
she pushed her tongue deep into your asshole, fucking you with the slick muscle. her nose pressed against your ass crack as she tongue–fucked you, her hands gripping your cheeks hard enough to leave reddened marks. minji ate your ass like a woman possessed, her lust and hunger for you palpable in every lick and suck.
winter and kazuha watched the lewd display, their cocks rock hard and straining against their pants. they could see minji’s tongue plunging in and out of your tight hole, your body jiggling with the force of her licks. the sight of your ass being devoured was incredibly erotic, and they knew they wouldn’t last much longer.
kazuha licked her lips, her hand moving to palm her hard cock through her jeans. “fuck, look at her eating that perfect ass. i can’t wait to shove my dick in there and make her scream.” she said, her voice low and rough with lust.
winter nodded, rubbing herself through her pants as well. “me neither. i want to see her face when we finally split her open and fill her with our cum.” she growled, her eyes dark and hungry as she watched minji feast on your ass.
minji continued to eat you out, her tongue plunging deep and hard into your asshole. She could feel your body tensing, your ass clenching and unclenching around her invading
your body started to tremble, a mix of pleasure and anticipation coursing through you as minji’s skilled tongue worked your asshole. she could feel the pressure building, your walls starting to quiver and clench around the slick invader plundering your most intimate depths. Just as she was about to reach her peak, minji pulled back, leaving your asshole empty and aching for more. she gave it one last hard suck, her lips sealing around your puckered hole as she inhaled deeply, savoring your musky scent before releasing you with a wet pop.
minji licked her lips, a sinful grin spreading across her face as she took in your debauched state — chest heaving, face flushed, and your ass still raised and presented, glistening with her spit. she could see how swollen and puffy your asshole was from her oral attentions, clenching desperately around nothing. it was clear that your body was more than ready for what came next.
winter and kazuha had already shed their clothes, their hard, thick cocks springing free, flushed a deep red and leaking with arousal. they stroked themselves as they took in the erotic sight of you, their eyes filled with dark promise and unchecked lust. It was clear that they were going to use your holes for their pleasure, to fuck you until you were a drooling, cum–drunk mess.
the three friends looked at each other, a silent agreement passing between them. they wanted to push your limits, to see how much you could take before breaking. winter nodded at kazuha and minji, a wicked grin on her face.
“let’s put that pretty mouth to good use, shall we?” she said, her voice dripping with lust and dark promise. “i want to feel those lips wrapped around my cock, sucking me off until i paint your throat with my cum.”
minji and kazuha smirked, stroking their hard, throbbing dicks as they waited for their turns. they wanted to use your mouth just as thoroughly, to fuck your face until tears streamed down your cheeks and your jaw ached from the brutal pace.
winter stepped forward first, grabbing your hair and forcing you to your knees. she pressed the swollen head of her cock against your lips, smearing her leaking pre–cum across the soft flesh. the musky scent of her arousal filled your nostrils, making your head spin with desire.
“open up, you cock–hungry slut.” winter growled, pushing her hips forward to force her thick shaft past your lips. she groaned as your mouth stretched around her, taking her inch by inch until she hit the back of your throat.
as winter started to fuck your face, minji and kazuha circled around, their hard cocks bobbing and twitching with each movement. they stroked themselves in time with winter’s thrusts, their eyes glued to the erotic sight of your lips stretched around her girthy dick.
winter set a brutal pace, gripping your hair tightly as she slammed her hips forward again and again. she used your mouth like a fleshy cock sleeve, her heavy balls slapping against your chin with each thrust. drool leaked from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and onto your heaving tits as she fucked your face with wild abandon.
winter grunted and growled above you, her grip on your hair tightening as she chased her pleasure. she could feel your throat constricting around her, your muscles fluttering and massaging her sensitive cock with each brutal thrust. the wet, obscene sounds of her fucking your face filled the room, mixing with here harsh pants and groans.
just as she was about to reach her peak, winter pulled out abruptly, her cock slick with your spit. strings of drool connected your lips to his shaft, and your jaw ached from the intense face–fucking.
winter smirked down at you, taking in your disheveled state — hair mussed, face flushed, and spit dripping down your chin. she could see the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath, your tits bouncing slightly with the movement. it was clear that your body was already overwhelmed with pleasure and stimulation, but winter was far from done with you.
without warning, winter raised her hand and brought it down hard across your cheek, the sharp slap echoing in the room. your face jerked to the side from the force of it, a red handprint blooming across your skin. before you could even think to protest, winter had grabbed your hair and shoved her spit–slick cock back into your mouth, hilting herself deep in your throat.
you gagged around the thick intrusion, your throat convulsing as you struggled to accommodate her girth. drool poured from your stretched lips, pooling on your tits and dripping down your stomach. winter held you in place, your nose pressed against her pelvis as she ground her hips against your face, painting your tongue and throat with her musky essence.
as suddenly as she had shoved her cock back into your mouth, winter pulled out, allowing you a moment to gasp for air. she stroked herself rapidly, her hand flying over her spit-slick shaft. Her other hand gripped your hair tightly, holding your head in place as she loomed over you.
minji and kazuha watched with dark, lust-filled eyes, their own cocks pumping in their fists as they took in the brutal display. they could see the way winter’s thick cock stretched your lips obscenely, the way your throat bulged with each thrust. the sight of her slapping you, using your face like a fuck toy, only turned them on more.
winter’s strokes became erratic, her grip on your hair tightening as she chased her rapidly approaching orgasm. Her balls drew up tight, her shaft pulsing and throbbing in her hand. with a guttural groan, she shoved her cock back into your mouth, slamming her hips forward one last time before pulling out completely.
winter aimed her cock at your face, stroking herself furiously. her other hand gripped your hair, holding you in place as she let out a low, animalistic growl. your eyes widened as thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head of her cock, painting your face with thick and heavy cum.
your face was instantly drenched in winter’s hot, sticky seed. thick ropes of cum splattered across your cheeks, your forehead, your chin, and your lips. some of it even landed in your hair, matting the strands together. you could feel the heavy spurts of jizz dripping down your skin, pooling in the hollow of your neck and the valley between your breasts.
as winter finished marking you with her release, minji and kazuha stepped up, their cocks rock hard and leaking with arousal. they had watched the brutal face–fucking and facial with bated breath, their dicks throbbing with the need for the same treatment.
minji stepped forward, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she took in the sight of you - face glazed with winter’s cum, chest heaving, and eyes glazed over with lust and exhaustion. She could see the way your tits glistened with the sticky essence, the red handprint still blazing across your cheek. it only spurred on her own desire, making her want to mark you as thoroughly as her friends had.
without any preamble, inji grabbed your hair, forcing you to your knees once more. She pressed the swollen, leaking head of her cock against your cum-splattered cheek, smearing the mess across your skin. the musky scent of her arousal filled your nostrils, making your head spin with need.
“open up, you cum–drunk slut.” minji growled, her voice rough with lust. “i’m going to fuck your pretty little mouth until you choke on my cock. i want to see those slutty eyes roll back in your head as i ruin your throat.”
she didn’t wait for a response, simply gripping your hair tighter and forcing her thick shaft past your lips. your jaw stretched obscenely around her girth, your mouth struggling to accommodate the sudden intrusion. minji groaned as your wet heat enveloped her, her hips jerking forward to bury herself deeper in your throat.
minji set a brutal pace, slamming her hips against your face with each thrust. she used your mouth like a cock sleeve, fucking your face with wild abandon. drool poured from your stretched lips, dripping down your chin and onto your tits, mixing with the cum already painting your skin. the wet, obscene sounds of minji’s cock plunging in and out of your mouth filled the room, mingling with her harsh pants and grunts.
just like winter, minji wasn’t gentle. she gripped your hair tightly, holding your head in place as she fucked your face with everything she had. She could feel your throat constricting around her, your muscles fluttering and massaging her sensitive flesh. it only spurred her on more, making her thrusts harder and more erratic.
winter and kazuha watched intently as Minji used your mouth, their own cocks throbbing with the need for their turn. rhey could see the way your throat bulged with each brutal thrust, the way your tits bounced and jiggled from the force of Minji's hips slamming against your face. the sight was incredibly erotic, and they knew they wouldn't last much longer before they needed to bury their own dicks in your hot, willing mouth.
minji’s balls slammed against your chin with each thrust, your skin growing slick with spit and pre–cum. she could feel her orgasm building quickly, her cock pulsing and twitching inside the tight clutch of your throat. with a harsh groan, she shoved her hips forward one last time, burying herself to the hilt in your mouth as she started to come.
thick, hot spurts of cum erupted from Minji's cock, flooding your mouth and painting your tongue white. she held your head in place, forcing you to swallow every drop of her release as it poured down your throat. you could feel it sloshing in your belly, adding to the growing puddle of jizz already coating your skin.
as minji pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, a strand of cum and drool connecting your lips to her softening cock, kazuha wasted no time in taking her place.
kazuha wasted no time in grabbing your hair, forcing you back onto your knees as minji stepped aside. she could see the way your throat worked to swallow the load of cum she had just fed you, the way your belly was starting to swell slightly from the sheer volume of jizz pumped into your mouth and throat. it was a debauched sight that only served to inflame her own lust and desire.
kazuha pressed the leaking tip of her cock against your lips, smearing the mix of winter’s and minji’s cum across your face. the musky scent of her arousal was thick in the air, making your head spin with need. she could feel the heat radiating off your skin, the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath. it was clear that your body was overwhelmed with pleasure, but she had no intention of stopping until she had her own release.
“such a good little cum dump,” kazuha purred, her voice dripping with dark promise. “i bet you can’t wait to choke on my cock, can you? i bet you want to feel me painting your insides white, marking you as mine."
she didn’t wait for a response, simply gripping your hair tighter and forcing her thick shaft past your lips. your jaw stretched obscenely around her girth, your mouth struggling to accommodate the sudden intrusion. kazuha groaned as your wet heat enveloped her, her hips jerking forward to bury herself deeper in your throat.
kazuha set a brutal pace, slamming her hips against your face with each thrust. she used your mouth like a cock sleeve, fucking your face with wild abandon. drool poured from your stretched lips, dripping down your chin and onto your tits, mixing with the cum already painting your skin. the wet, obscene sounds of kazuha’s cock plunging in and out of your mouth filled the room, mingling with her harsh pants and grunts.
just like winter and minji before her, kazuha wasn’t gentle. she gripped your hair tightly, holding your head in place as she fucked your face with everything she had. she could feel your throat constricting around her, your muscles fluttering and massaging her sensitive flesh. it only spurred her on more, making her thrusts harder and more erratic.
kazuha’s strokes became frantic, her grip on your hair tightening as she chased her rapidly approaching orgasm. she could feel her balls drawing up tight, her shaft pulsing and throbbing in your mouth. with a loud, guttural moan, she slammed her hips forward one last time before pulling out completely.
kazuha aimed her cock at your face, stroking herself furiously. thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from her swollen tip, splattering across your cheeks and forehead. she painted your face with her release, marking you as thoroughly as her friends had. some of it even landed in your hair, matting the strands together.
as kazuha finished, she stepped back, leaving you kneeling on the floor, your face and tits glazed with three different loads of cum. your chest heaved with each ragged breath, your skin slick and shiny with the sticky essence. your jaw ached from the brutal face–fucking, and your belly was slightly distended from the sheer volume of jizz pumped into your mouth and throat.
the three friends looked down at your debauched state, their cocks still hard and leaking. they could see the way your eyes were glazed over, your mind fucked stupid from the intense experience. it was clear that you were completely overwhelmed, drowning in a sea of pleasure and exhaustion. and yet, they knew they could still push you further, could still make you take more of their cocks, more of their cum.
kazuha smirked down at your cum–soaked, exhausted form kneeling before her. she could see the way your chest heaved with each labored breath, the way your skin glistened with the sticky essence of three intense facials. despite your clear state of overload, kazuha wasn’t done with you yet. she wanted to feel your tight, wet cunt wrapped around her throbbing cock, wanted to make you scream on her dick until you were hoarse.
“get up and sit on my cock, slut.” kazuha ordered, her voice rough with lust. “i want to feel that perfect pussy squeezing me as i split you open on my fat dick. i’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll forget your own name.”
kazuha grabbed your arms, hauling you to your feet. she pulled you towards the bed, forcing you to straddle her hips. she grabbed your hips, gripping them tightly as she positioned you above her straining erection. she rubbed the swollen head of her cock up and down your dripping slit, coating herself in your slick arousal. the sensation made her groan, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass.
“that’s it, you dirty girl. sit on my cock like the desperate little slut you are,” kazuha growled. “i’m going to ruin your tight cunt, make you scream so loud the neighbors will hear you.”
with that, she pulled you down, the thick head of her shaft popping past your entrance and sinking into your hot, clutching depths. kazuha threw her head back with a guttural moan as your walls stretched around her, gripping her like a vice. she could feel your slick, velvety heat enveloping her, your body welcoming her intrusion.
kazuha started to bounce you on her lap, using your hips to drive you up and down her thick shaft. each downward motion sank her deeper into your core, stretching you wider, filling you more completely. her hips surged up to meet yours, slamming her cock into you with bruising force, determined to ruin you for all other men.
“yes, fuck! your cunt feels so fucking good around my dick.” kazuha snarled, her eyes dark and wild as she watched your tits bounce and jiggle with each thrust. “i’m going to fuck this pussy so hard, you'll be feeling me for days. i’ll make sure this cunt remembers the shape of my cock, the way i split you open on my thick meat.”
the wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room as kazuha fucked up into you, each thrust shaking the bed. her balls slapped against your ass, heavy and full, ready to paint your insides with her seed. kazuha wanted to fill you, to pump you so full of her cum that you would be dripping for hours after she was done with you.
kazuha’s hands roamed your body as she fucked up into you, squeezing and kneading every inch of exposed skin. she tweaked your nipples roughly, pinching and rolling the hardened buds between her fingers until you cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain. her other hand slid down to your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in harsh, fast circles, determined to make you come undone on her cock.
“that’s it, scream for me! let everyone know who this pussy belongs to.” kazuha demanded, her voice a low, rough growl. she could feel your walls starting to flutter and clench around her, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. kazuha wanted to feel you come apart, wanted to watch your face as you surrendered to the pleasure utterly.
she redoubled her efforts, slamming her hips up harder, driving her cock deeper into your core with each brutal thrust. at the same time, she pinched your clit hard, rolling the sensitive bud between her fingers until your vision nearly whites out from the intense sensation.
kazuha could feel her own release fast approaching, her balls drawing up tight as she chased her rapidly building climax. she wanted to come deep inside you, to pump your tight cunt full of her hot, thick seed. she wanted to mark you as hers, to claim you in the most primal way possible.
“fuck, i’m going to come! i’m going to fill this pussy up, paint your insides white with my cum!” kazuha roared, slamming her hips up one last time. she buried herself to the hilt inside you, the head of her cock kissing your cervix as she exploded.
at the same time, she felt your pussy clamp down around her like a vice, your walls rippling and squeezing her shaft as your own intense orgasm overtook you. kazuha threw her head back with a guttural moan, a string of curses falling from her lips as she pumped your clenching cunt full of her hot, sticky release.
as kazuha slammed her hips up one final time, burying her throbbing cock deep inside your spasming cunt, she didn't pull out. Instead, she gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as she started to grind her pelvis against yours. her cock twitched and pulsed inside you, pumping thick ropes of hot cum directly into your womb as your pussy milked her for every last drop.
just as the intense waves of your shared orgasm began to subside, you felt the bed dip behind you. you turned your head to see minji positioning herself, a wicked gleam in her eye and a sadistic smirk on her face. before you could react, she pressed the slick tip of her own hard cock against your tight, puckered asshole.
minji wasted no time, pushing forward and sinking into your ass with one smooth, relentless thrust. your eyes widened and you let out a choked moan as she speared you open on her thick shaft, your back arching as your body struggled to adjust to the sudden intrusion. the sensation of having both your holes filled at the same time was overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of overload.
“fuck, her ass is so goddamn tight–” minji groaned, starting to roll her hips and fuck into you with deep, purposeful strokes. her hands gripped your ass cheeks hard, kneading the plump flesh as she used your hole like a cock sleeve.
kazuha matched her thrusts, slamming her own hips up to meet minji’s downward movements. together, they sandwiched you between them, their combined weight and the force of their thrusts shaking the bed. the wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingling with your wants and the grunts of the two women using your holes so thoroughly.
“take it, you filthy slut,” kazuha snarled, her eyes dark with lust and hunger. “take our cocks like the desperate whore you are. i’m going to fuck this tight ass until you're screaming for more.”
“and i’ll pump this greedy asshole full of my hot cum.” minji added, punctuating her words with a sharp thrust of her hips. ahe could feel your walls clenching and fluttering around her invading shaft, your body instinctively trying to push her out even as you were trying to get used to her size.
minji leaned over you, her tits pressing against your back as she bit down hard on your shoulder, marking you as her own. her hips slammed against your ass with brutal force, each thrust shaking your entire body and forcing kazuha’s cock even deeper into your cunt. the dual stimulation of having your pussy stretched around kazuha’s throbbing shaft and your asshole speared open on minji’s thick meat was almost too much to bear.
“scream for us, you cock–hungry slut!” kazuha demanded, her voice a low, rough growl. ahe pinched and rolled your nipples roughly, sending jolts of pleasurable pain straight to your core. at the same time, she rubbed your clit in fast, harsh circles, pushing you closer to the edge of another mind–blowing orgasm.
winter watched with dark, lust-filled eyes as minji and kazuha used your holes with wild abandon. the sight of you sandwiched between them, your face twisted in a mix of pleasure and overload, only fueled her own desires. she wanted a piece of the action, wanted to add her own brand of brutal passion to the depraved scene.
without warning, winter grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, forcing you to look up at her. her other hand groped and squeezed your tits roughly, kneading the soft flesh and tweaking your nipples until you cried out. winter’s eyes were wild and hungry as she drank in the sight of your face, flushed and contorted with ecstasy.
”i want your mouth on my cock, slut.” winter growled, her voice dripping with dark promise. “i want to feel that pretty little mouth wrapped around my shaft while these two bitches ruin your holes. suck me off like the desperate whore you are.”
with that, she forced your head down, shoving your face into her crotch. the musky scent of her arousal filled your nostrils, making your head spin with need. winter gripped your hair tightly, holding your head in place as she rubbed her leaking cock against your lips, smearing them with her pre–cum.
at the same time, minji and kazuha redoubled their efforts, slamming into you with renewed fervor. they gripped your hips and ass tightly, using your body like a fuck toy for their pleasure. the bed creaked and groaned beneath the force of their thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall with each brutal surge of their hips.
“fuck, look at her taking all three of us…” minji panted, her voice rough with exertion and lust. she could feel your asshole clenching and fluttering around her shaft, your body desperate for more even as it strained to take the intense double penetration.
“she’s a natural born cock sleeve,” kazuha agreed, slamming her hips up harder, driving her own shaft deeper into your spasming cunt. she could feel winter’s cock throbbing against your lips, the heat of it searing your skin even through the fabric of her pants.
winter shoved her hips forward, forcing her hard, thick shaft past your lips and into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth. your jaw stretched obscenely around her girth, your tongue instinctively wrapping around the invading flesh. winter groaned at the feeling of your mouth enveloping her, her fingers tightening in your hair.
“that’s it, you cock–hungry slut,” winter snarled, starting to roll her hips and fuck your face with deep, purposeful strokes. “take my fucking cock like the dirty whore you are. i want to feel the back of your throat as i use your mouth.”
as winter started to face–fuck you, minji and kazuha matched her rhythm, slamming their own hips against yours in brutal unison. the triple assault on your senses was overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of blacking out from the intense pleasure and lack of air.
your mind reeled as your body was used for their pleasure, your holes stretched and filled, your mouth stuffed full of hard, throbbing cock. drool poured from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and onto your heaving tits as winter fucked your face with wild abandon. the wet, guttural sounds of her hips slapping against your face filled the room, mingling with the obscene slap of flesh on flesh as kazuha and Minji continued to pound your cunt and ass.
your body started to shake and convulse, a scream muffled by winter’s pistoning cock as another mind–shattering orgasm ripped through you. your pussy clenched and spasmed around kazuha’s shaft, your asshole gripping minji’s in a vice–like hold as your release crashed over you like a tidal wave. the sensation of coming on three cocks at once was almost too intense to bear, pushing you to the very limits of what your body could take.
through it all, winter, minji, and kazuha didn’t let up, continuing to use your holes with brutal, animalistic fervor. they fucked you through your orgasm, their strokes never faltering as they chased their own impending releases. the room filled with the debauched sounds of your screams, the wet slap of flesh on flesh, and the grunts and moans of the three women as they raced towards their own climaxes.
winter slammed her hips forward one last time, burying her cock deep in your throat as she threw her head back with a roar. thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from her shaft, painting your throat and filling your belly with her bitter essence. At the same time, minji and kazuha hilted themselves inside you, their own cocks pulsing and throbbing as they pumped your cunt and ass full of their releasing seed.
tou could feel their shafts pulsing and twitching inside you as they emptied their heavy balls, flooding your holes with what felt like gallons of hot, sticky cum. it was an overwhelming sensation, being pumped so full of their releases that you could feel it sloshing heavily in your belly and leaking out around their shafts.
as their orgasms subsided, the three friends slowly pulled out, their softening cocks slipping from your thoroughly used holes with obscene wet sounds. you collapsed forward onto the bed, your body limp and spent, completely fucked out from the intense triple assault on your senses. your skin glistened with sweat and cum, your hair a wild mess, and your holes gaping and dripping with their combined releases.
as the three friends caught their breath and basked in the afterglow of their intense, depraved session, they looked down at your absolutely wrecked form sprawled out on the bed. your skin was slick with sweat, cum, and other fluids, your holes gaping and leaking their releases, and your hair a wild, tangled mess. they could see the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath, your body completely fucked out and overwhelmed.
winter, minji, and kazuha exchanged a look, a silent communication passing between them. they wanted to give you one last reward, one final act to seal your initiation into their group of friends. with a wicked grin, winter spoke up, her voice still rough from her recent orgasm.
“i think our little slut deserves a proper send-off, don’t you?” she said, looking at her friends with a gleam of lust in her eyes. “let’s give her a facial to remember."
minji and kazuha nodded in agreement, their own cocks already starting to stir and harden at the thought. they gathered around the bed, stroking themselves to full mast once more. Winter grabbed your hair, forcing you to sit up and kneel in the middle of the bed. the other two positioned themselves on either side of you, their hard shafts bobbing and twitching with arousal.
“open wide, you cum–hungry whore,” kazuha growled, fisting her shaft and aiming it at your face. “we’re going to paint you like a canvas, mark you as our bitch for good.”
minji did the same, gripping her own cock and rubbing the swollen head against your cheek, smearing your skin with her pre–cum. winter grabbed your hair tighter, forcing your head back and exposing your face to their combined assault.
together, the three friends started to stroke themselves furiously, their grips tight and their movements fast and rough. they wanted to come hard and fast, to give you a facial like no other. the room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of their stroking, their grunts and moans growing louder and more urgent as they approached their climax.
“fuck, i’m going to come!” winter roared, her voice echoing off the walls. at the same time, minji and kazuha let out their own cries of release, their shafts pulsing and thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from the tips, splattering across your face and hair in heavy streams. winter, minji, and kazuha stroked themselves to completion, pumping load after load of their thick, pungent seed all over you. your face and hair were quickly glazed with a thick layer of their combined releases, droplets dripping down your chin and onto your chest.
by the time they finished, you were completely drenched in their essences, your skin and hair matted with the sticky evidence of their lust. the sheer volume of cum painted on your face was a testament to their intense, depraved session and your initiation into their exclusive group of friends.
as the three friends stepped back to admire their work, your face was a canvas of their combined releases. streaks of jizz coated your cheeks, nose, forehead, and chin, dripping down to pool on your heaving tits. clumps of thick cum clung to your tangled hair, weighing down the strands and making them stick together. the sight of you, so thoroughly marked and claimed, was a powerful image of your new place among them — a place where you existed solely for their pleasure and use.
──── ( 🍸 ) working as a maid in the lavish laforteza mansion, you find yourself trapped between mr. laforteza’s quiet predation, his wife’s intimidating power, and a humiliating accident that leaves you stuck in the washing machine—only to realize that your helplessness has become mrs. laforteza’s newest leverage, her gaze settling on you with a dangerous mix of amusement, desire, and control.
𝓟aring. dom!boss!sophia laforteza x sub!maid!fem reader.
𝓒ontent 𝓦arnings. age gap, cliché of being stuck in a washing machine (yes, i’m serious), clit play, cum eating, cunnilingus, fingering, gropping, humiliation, nipple play, multiple orgasms, pet names, praise, tagalog is used in a few scenes but not that much, squirting.
𝓦ord 𝓒ount. 3,9k
𝓜asterlist.
the polished marble floors of the laforteza mansion gleam under the chandeliers, reflecting a life of boundless wealth that is, paradoxically, not yours. every surface, every artifact, whispers of power and influence. you move through it, a silent shadow, an indispensable cog in the well-oiled machine of their opulent existence. your work here, you’ve learned, is… peculiar. but then, so is the man who owns this palace.
you are the maid, an integral part of the household of mr. and mrs. laforteza, the philippines’ most influential business couple. your duties are extensive, your hours long, but the pay? the pay is exceptional. it’s a golden handcuff, really, binding you to a world that simultaneously awes and unnerves you.
mr. laforteza, however, is the primary source of that unease. he is a man of imposing presence, sharp suits, and a smile that rarely reaches his eyes, but often seems to linger on you. his peculiarities manifest in a constant, subtle pursuit, a series of almost–moves, almost–touches, almost–comments that keep you perpetually on guard.
“magandang umaga, binibini,” he’d say, his voice a low rumble, the “binibini” pronounced with an almost possessive warmth. he would find you dusting and suddenly be too close, his hand brushing your arm as he reached for an imaginary speck on a nearby vase. or he’d compliment your hair, your uniform, your tireless work, his gaze holding yours a moment too long. you’d learned to pivot, to suddenly remember an urgent task in another room, to fill your hands with something, anything, to create a physical barrier. you kept your responses polite, professional, and brief, a delicate dance of avoidance. you didn’t want trouble. not here. not when so much depended on that generous salary.
mrs. laforteza, sophia, was rarely around, always jetting off to some international conference or society gala. but her presence was a formidable shadow, a silent warning. she was the matriarch, the true power behind the throne, a woman whose discerning eyes missed nothing, and whose wrath, you suspected, would be swift and absolute. she was your shield, in a strange way, against her husband’s advances. as long as you kept within the bounds of propriety, as long as there was no hint of scandal, her absence was a complicated blessing.
today, however, the mansion is completely empty save for you. a rare, almost unsettling quiet hangs in the air, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning and the distant sounds of the city. you cherish these moments of solitude, a chance to let your shoulders drop, to breathe without the constant vigilance. it’s laundry day, a monumental task in a house where even the bedsheets feel like spun silk. you load the last batch into the state–of–the–art washing machine in the sprawling service area. you press the start button. nothing.
you press it again. still nothing. a cold dread settles in your stomach. what? this machine, so new, so expensive, could not possibly be broken. you press the power button, then start, then cycle through the settings. the lights flicker, a faint whirring sound starts, then abruptly stops. the digital display flashes an error code you’ve never seen before. your heart begins to pound a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
breaking something here wasn’t like breaking a plate at your old job. this wasn’t just a few hundred pesos. this was a laforteza appliance. the cost would be astronomical. fear, sharp and immediate, grips you. you could kiss your good pay goodbye, swallowed by repairs. or worse, you could lose the job entirely. your hands tremble slightly as you force yourself to calm down. panic wouldn’t fix anything. you had to figure out what was happening.
you lean down, peering into the washing machine drum. it’s a front-loader, sleek and modern. you try to rotate the drum manually, but it’s stiff, resisting your efforts. something is clearly caught, jamming the mechanism. you grab a flashlight from a nearby drawer and shine it into the depths. the light bounces off a glint of gold, then iridescent pearl.
your stomach drops even further. it’s not just a piece of debris. it’s a necklace. a dazzling, intricate piece, clearly expensive, with a large, creamy pearl pendant. and it’s intimately tangled with what looks like a fragment of fabric – a silk lining, perhaps from a designer handbag. you recognize it instantly. it’s one of mrs. laforteza’s signature pearl necklaces, the one she wore to the state dinner last month. and the bag… a small, impossibly expensive clutch you’d seen her carry, tossed carelessly onto the laundry basket by a sleepy morning domestic, likely by mistake.
“dios ko,” you whisper, the fear turning into outright terror. if anything happened to this, anything at all…
you have to get it out. carefully. gently. you open the washing machine door wider, the rubber seal cool against your fingertips. to reach the necklace, you realize you’ll need to bend down, put your head and shoulders inside the drum. it’s an awkward angle, but there’s no other way.
you take a deep breath, push your head in first, then your shoulders follow. the cool, metallic scent of the machine fills your nostrils. your arms stretch forward, fingers brushing against the smooth, damp fabric of the pearl bag, feeling for the chain. it’s wedged in, tight. you try to angle your wrist, to get a better grip. you push a little further, your upper body now almost entirely inside the drum, your feet still planted firmly on the floor outside.
you feel a slight shift, a subtle give, and then – thunk.
your heart lurches. you’re stuck.
your shoulders, it seems, were wider than the opening, or perhaps you’d twisted at an unfortunate angle. the rubber seal of the washing machine door now presses uncomfortably around your midsection, just below your ribs. you can’t pull forward, and you can’t push back. your efforts to free yourself only wedge you in tighter, the pressure increasing, making it difficult to breathe deeply.
panic, cold and nauseating, washes over you. you are on all fours, your bottom impossibly high in the air, your face and upper torso buried inside a washing machine, your arms still reaching futilely for an impossibly expensive piece of jewelry. this was beyond humiliating. this was a nightmare plucked straight from a ridiculous comedy sketch. except it wasn’t funny. not even a little bit.
“walang hiya!” you mutter, the tagalog curse a desperate whisper in the cramped, echoing space of the drum.
you try again, a grunt escaping your lips as you strain. your muscles ache, your spine protests. the rubber bites into your skin. you are truly, utterly stuck. the absurdity of it all almost makes you laugh, a hysterical, breathless sound that dies in your throat. of all the ways to get into trouble, this had to be the most undignified.
and what if someone came home? what if mrs. laforteza herself walked in and found you like this? the image of her formidable gaze, her quiet, cutting judgment, makes you wince. but worse, infinitely worse, what if he came home? mr. laforteza, the man whose peculiar advances you so meticulously avoided. to be found in this compromising, vulnerable position… the thought sends a fresh wave of terror through you.
you close your eyes, trying to regulate your breathing. the air in the drum is stale and metallic. you can feel the cold hard plastic against your cheek. your arms are beginning to cramp, still outstretched, useless. the necklace, the cause of all this, glints mockingly just beyond your reach.
you try one last, desperate push, trying to leverage your hips. it’s no use. you are as stuck as a cork in a bottle. tears of frustration and fear prick at your eyes. this was supposed to be a quiet afternoon, a moment of respite. now you were trapped, utterly helpless, and awaiting… what? rescue? by whom? and what would be the cost of that rescue, beyond mere financial deduction? the peculiar mr. laforteza, his lingering gaze, his knowing smile… the thought alone was enough to make you wish you could simply evaporate into thin air.
suddenly, a sound. the distant rumble of an engine pulling into the driveway. it’s too early for mr. laforteza. it’s too late for the driver. your blood runs cold. a familiar engine. it could only be one person. mr. laforteza.
footsteps sound on the marble in the main hall. she’s home. and you’re here. stuck, headfirst in a washing machine, your backside presented to the world like a grotesque, domestic offering. the footsteps grow closer, echoing louder as they approach the service area. each step is a hammer blow to your frantic heart. your breathing hitches. you squeeze your eyes shut, praying for invisibility, for the earth to swallow you whole.
however, who it really is surprises you.
the footsteps stop. right outside the laundry room. a slight pause. then, a soft, almost amused chuckle. “magandang hapon, irog,” a deep voice says, right behind you. the warmth in her tone is unmistakable, and unsettling. “mukhang may problema ka?”
it seems you have a problem.
your entire body freezes. the indignity. the sheer, unadulterated humiliation of being discovered like this. you can feel the heat rising in your face, even though it’s hidden from view. you don’t dare move, don’t dare speak. how long has she been standing there? how much did he see?
she circles around, her polished leather shoes clicking softly on the tiled floor. you can hear her moving, smell her expensive cologne. sh stops right in front of the washing machine opening, where your face is buried. you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes.
“ano’ng nangyari dito? she asks, her voice closer now, laced with a familiar, peculiar mix of concern and something else you couldn’t quite place – amusement? mischief?
she chuckles again, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through the metal of the machine. you feel a light tap on your shoulder, then a more insistent nudge. “well, you can’t stay there all day, can you? kailangan mong lumabas diyan.”
still you don’t respond, paralyzed by shame. the thought of looking her in the eye, or rather, having her look you in the eye while your body was in this ridiculous predicament, was unbearable. “come on now,” she says, a hint of impatience now, but still that underlying amusement. “let’s see if we can extract you from this mechanical monster.”
you feel her hand on your waist, a firm but not–quite–gentle grip, trying to pull you out. you gasp, a small, involuntary sound. it’s exactly the kind of touch you strove so hard to avoid, now an essential part of your rescue. you feel a wave of sheer violation, despite the innocent context. your body is rigid. you are stuck, not just physically, but emotionally, in this humiliating bind.
she pulls again, harder this time. you feel the rubber give slightly, the pressure shifting. you groan, a mix of pain and frustration. “you’re quite wedged in there,” she notes, a smirk audible in her voice. “looks like we need to be a bit more… strategic.”
her hands move from your waist to your hips, trying to get a better purchase. your face flushes even deeper. you can feel the warmth of her fingers through your uniform, the strength of her grip. it’s not overtly sexual, not yet, but it’s intimate, far too intimate for the maid–employer relationship. and you are utterly defenseless.
“try to push with your legs,” she instructs, “while i pull.” you comply, pushing with your feet against the floor, trying to leverage yourself. her hands shift, one on each hip, bracing you, then pulling. it’s an agonizing moment of stretched muscles and compressed flesh. you feel a sudden, sharp pop as you finally slide free, tumbling backwards onto the tiled floor, a tangled heap of limbs and uniform.
you lie there for a moment, disoriented, dizzy, and profoundly embarrassed. the cool air against your face is a welcome relief after the stale air of the drum. you push yourself up onto unsteady hands and knees, avoiding her gaze, focused intently on the patterns of the tiles.
“there you go,” she says, a triumphant note in his voice. she offers you a hand, but you quickly scramble to your feet, brushing off your uniform, still refusing to meet her eyes. you feel disheveled, exposed, your hair probably a mess. you want nothing more than to run and hide.
“maraming salamat po, ginang laforteza,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper, thick with embarrassment.
“walang anuman po.” she replies, but her eyes, you can feel them on you, lingering. “but it seems you owe me a favor now, don’t you? a rescue, no less. and quite a spectacle it was.”
you steal a quick glance at her. she’s smiling, a slow, knowing smile that sends a shiver down your spine. there’s a glint in her eyes, that familiar spark of peculiar amusement, but also something else, something predatory. she knows. she saw. and now, he has leverage.
you quickly avert your gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks once more. “i-i’ll fix the washing machine, po. and the necklace…” you glance at the now retrieved necklace, lying innocently on the floor where it had fallen. it was thankfully undamaged.
“don’t worry about the machine,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “we’ll have someone look at it.”
she leaned in closer, her lips a hairsbreadth from yours as she whispered. “i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice. i know you want me just as badly as want you, you naughty girl.”
sophia captured your mouth in a searing kiss, plundering your lips with a desperate hunger. her tongue delved past your teeth to claim every inch of your mouth, staking her territory.
breaking the kiss, she nipped at your lower lip before soothing it with her tongue. “my husband is gone, and i’m feeling so... pent up. a lonely wife has needs, you know.” her hand slid higher, fingers stroking along the edge of your panties.
“so here’s the deal, sweet thing. you let me use this tight little body of yours to scratch my itch…” she punctuated her words by rubbing your clothed slit, feeling the heat building there. “...and i’ll get you out of this mess. sound fair?”
sophia’s fingers crept under the fabric of your panties, stroking along your slick folds as she felt the evidence of your arousal. “mmmh, it seems like someone is excited about the idea of being taken advantage of by her boss.” she teased, circling your clit with a maddeningly light touch
her other hand slid up to wrap around your throat, applying the faintest pressure, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your pulse jump in your veins. sophia leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she whispered. “i’m going to fuck you right here, baby. i’m going to bend you over and hike up your skirt and bury myself deep in your sweet cunt until we're both screaming in ecstasy.”
to emphasize her point, sophia shoved two fingers knuckle–deep into your dripping hole, pumping them in and out at a brutal pace. Her thumb rubbed hard circles around your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.
“then, when i’m done using your sexy little body, i’ll make sure you’re so well compensated for your... service. i’ll give you a hefty bonus, and maybe even keep you on as my personal plaything.” she purred, nipping at your earlobe before soothing it with her tongue.
sophia’s eyes flashed with dark promise as she pressed you harder against the cold metal of the washing machine, her body pinning you in place. her hand slid up your thigh, pushing your skirt up around your waist as she palmed your ass possessively.
“such a naughty girl, getting yourself stuck like this.” she murmured, fingers dipping beneath the hem of your panties to stroke along your slick folds teasingly. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll take goooood care of you…”
sophia’s other hand crept up to wrap around your throat, applying the faintest pressure as she leaned in to capture your mouth in a hungry, dominating kiss. her tongue pushed past your lips to claim every inch of you, staking her territory.
she broke the kiss to blaze a trail of hot, open–mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard on your pulse point. sophia’s fingers pushed your panties aside, two digits sinking deep into your dripping cunt without preamble.
“fuck, you’re so tight.” she groaned against your skin, pumping her fingers slowly as she savored the feel of your velvet walls clenching around the intrusion. “i can’t wait to feel this sexy little pussy wrapped around my fingers…”
sophia’s thumb found your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, hard circles as she fingered you with single–minded focus. her kisses turned biting, teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your throat as she marked you as hers.
“gonna fuck this sweet cunt so hard, baby.” she panted, scissoring her fingers inside you as she rubbed your clit harder, faster. “gonna make you scream on my bed until the whole neighborhood knows who this pussy belongs to…”
sophia’s fingers pumped faster, harder, driving into your dripping slit with a relentless rhythm. her thumb rubbed your clit with aggressive strokes, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.
“that’s it, baby. gonna come all over my fingers like a good girl.” she growled, sinking her teeth into your shoulder as she felt your walls starting to flutter. “fuck, i can’t wait to taste your cream. want to lick up every drop of your sweet cum…”
she captured your mouth in a filthy kiss, all tongue and teeth and desperation. her free hand slid up to grope your breast, kneading the soft flesh and pinching your nipple hard through the thin fabric of your uniform.
sophia’s fingers curled inside you, rubbing that special spot that made your toes curl and your back arch. she swallowed your cries of pleasure, drinking down your ecstasy like the finest wine as she fucked you through your climax.
“mmmh, yes! come for me, baby. drench my fingers in your juices.” she purred, lapping at your lips as she worked you through the aftershocks, milking every last drop of bliss from your trembling body. “such a good little maid, coming so hard for your boss…”
“i can’twait to feel these sexy thighs wrapped around my waist while i pound this pussy into oblivion. gonna ruin you for anyone else, make it so this cunt belongs only to me.” she captures your mouth in another searing kiss, all tongue and teeth as she devours you with wild abandon.
“hope you’re ready, baby, because i’m going to fuck you so hard, so deep, you won’t be able to walk straight for days. i’ll make sure this pussy is dripping with my cum, marking you as my personal fucktoy inside and out.”
sophia’s eyes flashed with dark lust as she gripped your hips tighter, fingers sinking into the supple flesh of your ass as she ground her cloth–covered sex against yours with desperate need. she could feel the heat of your core, even through the fabric separating you, and it made her crave more.
“fuck, i need to taste you.” she growled, her voice rough with desire. In one swift motion, sophia hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanked them down your thighs, baring your glistening sex to her hungry gaze.
she leaned in, inhaling deeply as she took in the intoxicating scent of your arousal. “mmmh, you smell divine, baby. i et you taste even better.” sophia purred, her breath hot against your sensitive folds.
without warning, she buried her face between your thighs, her tongue delving deep into your dripping slit. sophia licked and lapped at your essence like a woman starved, moaning in ecstasy as she savored your flavor.
“fuck, delicious,” she groaned, her lips and chin quickly glistening with your juices as she feasted on your sex. “i could get addicted to this sweet cunt…”
sophia’s hands gripped your ass harder, spreading your cheeks and tilting your hips up to give her better access as she ate you out with wild abandon. her tongue circled your clit, flicking and teasing the sensitive bud before sucking it hard into her mouth.
she could feel your thighs trembling around her head, hear your breathy moans and whimpers as she pleasured you. it only spurred sophia on, making her double her efforts to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.
“come on, baby. give me more of this honey.” she demanded, her voice muffled against your flesh as she continued to lap and suck at your dripping slit. “i want to drown in your sweet cream, want to choke on your pleasure until you’re screaming my name…”
sophia’s fingers crept up to tease your entrance, circling your opening with a maddeningly light touch before plunging two digits deep into your velvet heat. she pumped them in and out, fucking you hard and fast as her tongue worked your clit merciless.
sophia’s fingers curled inside you, rubbing that perfect spot that made your toes curl and your back arch off the cold metal of the washing machine. she could feel your walls starting to flutter around the invading digits, and knew you were close to tumbling over the edge into bliss.
“that’s it, baby. come for me.” she growled, her voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh as she sucked your clit hard, demanding your release. “i want to feel this sweet cunt spasm around my fingers as you scream my name. let go, angel. give me everything.”
sophia’s other hand slid up your body, pushing your uniform top up and over your breasts. she pushed the cups of your bra down, freeing your perfect mounds to her greedy hands. sophia kneaded the soft flesh roughly, pinching and rolling your nipples between her fingers until they pebbled under her touch.
she could feel your body tensing, your thighs clamping around her head as your climax approached. sophia doubled her efforts, fucking you harder and faster with her fingers as she licked and sucked your clit with desperation.
“fuck, yes! come on my face like a good girl.” sophia commanded, her eyes flashing up to meet yours with a wicked, lust–filled glare. “paint my lips and chin with your sweet cum, baby. mark me as yours as i mark this pussy as mine…”
with a sharp cry, you tumbled over the edge, your sex clenching and unclenching around sophia’s pistoning fingers as pleasure crashed over you in overwhelming waves. your juices gushed out, flooding her mouth and chin as she licked and lapped greedily at your spasming slit.
“mmmh, yes! that’s my good little maid.” sophia praised, her voice muffled by your essence as she worked you through your climax. “so fucking sexy when you come undone like this, baby. i could watch this perfect body shake with pleasure for hours…”
as your orgasm began to subside, sophia slowly withdrew her fingers from your dripping sex. she brought them up to her lips, making a show of licking them clean of your juices as she held your trembling gaze.
“delicious.” she purred, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “but we’re far from done.”
synopsis: minji thought she had you figured out—just another noisy regular at her family’s internet café, always breaking the rules and pushing her patience. but when you started showing up alone, lingering longer, slipping beneath her defenses with every quiet smirk and unexpected softness, things began to shift.
contains: SLOWBURN (everyone cheered), mutual pining, jealousy, not really enemies-to-lovers, more like annoying x annoyed, no angst this time🥳
word count: 15.5k
you didn’t really notice her the first few times. not in the way that mattered. not in the way you now pretend you never did. she was just the girl at the counter, a constant fixture of the café you and your friends had started treating like a second home — the kind of place that smelled like warm plastic and floor wax, where the keyboards clacked in uneven rhythms and the monitors hummed just loud enough to drown out the quiet.
it was always bright in there, the fluorescent lights making everything feel like it was happening in the middle of a late afternoon no matter what time it actually was, and you liked that. you liked how time bent a little when you were logged in, how the world outside blurred into background noise, especially on days when school felt like an empty hallway and your classroom was just another place to sit still in.
the café wasn’t perfect — the chairs wobbled, the headphones were old, the snack shelf was overpriced — but it was familiar. and she was part of that familiarity. always behind the desk, always scribbling in the logbook or scrolling through something on her phone, barely looking up unless someone was causing a problem. which, to be fair, was usually you.
minji noticed you immediately. not because you were interesting — she didn’t think you were, not at first — but because you were loud. unmistakably, unapologetically loud. the kind of loud that didn’t only come from the volume of your voice, but from the way you took up space, dragging the good chair in the front like it was a part of your entrance, laughing with your whole chest over the sound of game effects and chat alerts, your group tumbling into the room like a school trip gone off-leash.
she’d memorized your face before she ever learned your name, knew the back of your head before she knew your voice. you were one of the regulars who came in during the dead hours, when most students were still stuck in their last class, and you always had that smug, gleaming look like you were getting away with something.
she didn’t like that look. she didn’t like how easily you ignored the signs, how you pretended not to hear her the first time she warned you to lower your volume. she didn’t like that it didn’t bother you to be scolded in front of your friends — if anything, it seemed like you enjoyed it. like her disapproval only made you dig in your heels. it wasn’t personal, not really. she didn’t hate you. she just didn’t understand people like you.
you got used to her voice before you ever really got used to her presence. it was always clipped, clean, a little bored — like she was constantly half a sentence away from telling someone to grow up. she didn’t yell, didn’t argue, didn’t raise her tone. she didn’t call you out more than anyone else, but when she did, it stuck.
you didn’t know why it mattered. maybe it was the way she never looked flustered. maybe it was because you couldn’t get a read on her.
or maybe it was because she kept noticing things you didn’t expect her to — how you always preferred the machine near the back wall, how you tapped your pen against the counter when you were impatient, how you asked for the same snack every visit but never ate it until you were halfway through your game. she didn’t say anything about it. didn’t act like it meant anything. but she noticed. and you noticed that she noticed. and then it became something.
minji started bracing herself whenever she saw your name in the logbook. it was a reflex. she didn’t even need to look up anymore. she’d hear a chair scrape too hard, or someone laugh too loud from the leftmost aisle, and she’d already know it was you.
but you were also the one who left quietly when asked. the one who once helped untangle the mess of wires when a younger kid tripped and yanked half the extension cords out of place. she didn’t say thank you then. she just made a note of it, like she made a note of everything else. like she couldn’t help it.
you once joked to your friend that the café girl had it out for you. “she looks like she wants to ban me every time i breathe,” you said, and your friend laughed, agreed, teased you about it. but you couldn’t tell if it was a joke. not entirely. because sometimes you’d catch her looking at you — not glaring, not even watching really — just… looking. like she was trying to figure something out. like you were an equation with a stubborn decimal.
minji doesn’t look up right away when the door opens.
the bell makes its usual sound, light and worn, like it’s been through too many rainy seasons and dustings and still rings out of obligation rather than cheer, and she barely reacts now when she hears it — just a small pause in the motion of her pen, a glance at the corner of the monitor to check the time, the hour flickering quietly in digital blue. it’s half past one. way too early for the usual rush. too late for the lunch crowd. a dead hour. the good kind.
she’s in the middle of writing down something in the logbook — a half-finished note about a broken headset cable, third one this week, not even surprised anymore — when she hears the faint scuff of shoes on tile. it’s not rushed, not the kind of sound someone makes when they’re in a hurry to get to their favorite seat. it’s unhurried. deliberate. and a little familiar.
still, she finishes writing the word first. she’s not about to drop everything because someone walked in weird.
and then she sees the shoes.
white rubber, slightly muddy at the edges, mismatched laces. she’s seen those shoes before. a lot. too many times. and above the shoes — socks, a little slouched at the ankles. above that — a school skirt. the colors sharp, not faded. worn neatly. regulation length. unmistakable.
minji blinks.
her eyes trail upward slowly. there’s a uniform blouse — clean, a little wrinkled near the elbow, but buttoned properly. your school crest sits on the pocket, clear as day. and your hair is the same as always — not styled, not tucked, just loose and slightly messy, like you didn’t care enough to fix it properly before stepping out. you’re carrying your bag on one shoulder, lazily. the same way you always do when you come here after class. except this isn’t after class.
you meet her eyes the moment she looks up fully, like you were waiting for it. like you knew exactly what kind of stare you’d get and decided to lean into it anyway.
you walk up to the counter slowly, that casual sway in your step that she’s come to recognize, and for a moment, minji doesn’t say anything. just watches. tries to figure out what you think you’re doing. because there are signs. so many signs. taped outside the door. beside the desk. on the snack shelf. red ink, bold letters.
and you’re here. in a uniform. in the middle of the day.
her pen stops moving completely.
you say it before she can open her mouth. “before you say anything, i know.”
of course you do.
you point a thumb toward the door. “the sign.”
it’s there — taped to the door, a little wrinkled at the corners, with all-caps block letters printed in faded red ink:
STRICTLY NO STUDENTS IN UNIFORM ALLOWED DURING SCHOOL HOURS.
there’s another copy of it taped beside the monitor near her elbow. and another one stuck beside the snack shelf. you’ve seen them all before.
minji leans back a little in her chair, not quite crossing her arms but close. her fingers tap the pen once against the desk. she’s not mad — not yet — but there’s a familiar tightening in her jaw, the kind that usually shows up when someone tries to get clever with the rules.
“so you do know,” she says, flatly.
you nod, like you’ve just confessed to a crime but don’t think it should count.
you shift your weight to one leg, look at her like you’re waiting for a reaction. like you’re already predicting which version of her you’re going to get — the bored one, the scolding one, the unimpressed one who always sends you back to your seat with a word and a stare.
“i just didn’t wanna go home yet,” you say, more relaxed than she thinks you should be. “and it’s just homeroom today. they won’t even notice.”
minji raises a brow. “that’s still skipping.”
you shrug. “barely.”
that annoys her. not a lot. just enough.
she doesn’t bother to repeat herself. you already know what the rule is. instead, she glances past you, just for a second, as if checking whether someone else is about to walk in. someone in the same uniform, ready to turn this into a pattern. but there’s no one. it’s just you.
she sighs, softly. “you’re not supposed to be here.”
“then pretend you didn’t see me.”
“you walked through the front door.”
“yeah, but with charm.”
minji wants to roll her eyes. she doesn’t. instead, she points at the sign on the counter with the end of her pen.
you lean forward slightly to read it again, like it might’ve changed since last time.
you let out a small exhale — not quite a sigh, but something close — then say, “i’ll change.”
minji blinks. “what?”
“if the problem’s the uniform,” you say, voice lighter now, like this is all some casual joke between you, “i’ll take it off.”
her spine straightens. “you’re not serious.”
“totally am.”
and before she can stop you — before she can even finish deciding how serious you actually are — you’re already reaching for your bag strap, unzipping it with one hand, fingers moving with practiced ease like you’ve done this a hundred times before, like this whole thing is just another level to beat, another argument to shrug off, and she watches as you slip the blazer off your shoulders and start on the blouse buttons like you’re just taking off a jacket. calm. casual.
she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out at first.
and somewhere behind the monitor, she can feel her pulse ticking a little faster than it should.
you don’t do it to be dramatic. you’re not here for a scene. you’re not even here for the games, not really — not like usual. it’s more about not being anywhere else. you woke up with that kind of mood clinging to you like sweat after a nap, the kind where everything felt too loud even when it was quiet, where the thought of sitting through another homeroom period under flickering fluorescent lights made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t name.
so you left. or skipped. whatever. it’s not like they’ll call home. not like anyone’s waiting. you had the uniform on already and thought it might be funny to show up like that — not for attention, just to see what she’d do. desk girl. the one who always looks like she has the whole world figured out and still manages to look bored by it.
she’s watching you now. not like she usually does, not with that sideways glance she gives you when you’re being too loud or eating chips near the equipment. no, this is different. still unreadable, still quiet, but focused. like she doesn’t know where this is going yet. like you’ve finally said something she doesn’t have a response for.
and for a second — just one — that makes you hesitate.
minji doesn’t blink. not when you say it. not when your fingers start undoing the buttons of your blouse. not even when you shrug one side of it off. she’s never been one to react quickly, never been easy to startle, and right now she tells herself that hasn’t changed.
but there’s a different kind of tension tightening around her ribs — not panic, not discomfort, but something quieter, slower, harder to name. her eyes flicker down without meaning to, just for a moment, just long enough to catch the black t-shirt underneath, slightly wrinkled, tucked halfway into what she realizes now are dri-fit shorts hidden under your skirt. of course. you’d planned this. prepared for it. like you knew you were going to end up here. like you expected her to stop you — and wanted to prove that she couldn’t.
you fold the blouse neatly and stuff it into your bag like this is just protocol, like there’s nothing strange about stripping off part of your uniform in front of the girl who’s scolded you more times than you can count. you don’t meet her eyes. not yet. but you know she’s still watching you, and for the first time, you feel the weight of that gaze settle differently against your skin.
minji exhales, slowly, quietly. she’s not sure what annoys her more — the fact that you found a loophole, or the way her brain is still catching up to what just happened. it’s not like she’s never seen someone change in here before. kids take off hoodies all the time. people adjust layers when the AC is acting up. but this feels different. maybe because it’s you. maybe because you said it so casually, like a dare. maybe because, deep down, she knows you’re not just doing this for yourself.
you finally look at her again, your mouth twitching into the kind of smile that’s just barely there, the kind that could mean anything or nothing. “problem solved?”
she wants to say yes. wants to roll her eyes and tell you to pay already. wants to act like none of this mattered.
but the air between you feels different now — just slightly charged, just a little off-rhythm, like something got nudged out of place and neither of you knows how to set it back.
instead, she says, “two hours?”
you nod. “and shin ramen. the black one.”
she punches it into the register without another word. doesn’t meet your eyes. doesn’t say anything when your fingers brush the coins on the counter a little too close to hers. doesn’t look up until you’ve already started walking toward the far right aisle — your usual spot, the one near the window, the one she always pretends not to hold for you even when the place starts filling up.
minji watches the back of your head as you sit down.
she doesn’t even realize she’s still staring.
minji stays seated for longer than necessary. your payment’s already logged, the receipt tucked away, the change sitting quietly in the plastic tray beside the register, untouched. her hand hovers near it, fingers brushing the edge, but she doesn’t move.
she stares past the monitor, not quite at the snack shelf, not quite at you either — somewhere in between, somewhere where her thoughts keep slipping back to the buttons of your blouse, your voice saying you’d take it off, the nonchalance in your tone, the quiet steadiness of your hands. she tells herself she’s just processing. that this is just annoyance, not confusion. that you’re just a problem she’s already solved. but her body betrays her — there’s a tension around her ribs that doesn’t fade.
and for what?
you’re not being loud. not throwing your voice across the café or stuffing chips down the side of the keyboard like you usually do. you’re quiet now. alone. not playing anything yet, not even pretending to be. just sitting in your usual seat, in that ridiculous layered outfit like this was always the plan.
she breathes out through her nose and stands slowly, the stool creaking faintly beneath her as she moves toward the snack shelf, every step measured like she’s not trying to buy herself time but ends up doing exactly that. she reaches for the Shin Ramyun Black — fingers curling around the familiar packaging, the weight of it suddenly too warm in her hand. it’s not new. you’ve ordered it before. but something about picking it up today feels different, like it means more than it should.
she sets the cup down, opens the drawer, pulls out a pair of chopsticks, listens to the electric kettle hum to life. even the water feels like it takes longer to boil, each second stretching thin with how quiet the place has become. her eyes flick to the clock again. three minutes pass. maybe more. she’s not really keeping track.
when it’s ready, she places the lid on, wipes her fingers on the side of her jeans, and makes her way toward you with the kind of calm she doesn’t feel.
you don’t turn around. you don’t need to. you sit there like you already know what she’s carrying, like you’ve been listening to every tiny sound behind the counter since you walked in.
she sets the ramen down in front of you without a word, her hand steady even as her mind refuses to quiet. and you glance up just as she’s pulling away.
you meet her eyes — not with a grin, not with that smugness you usually wear — but something smaller, more careful. she doesn’t look away. not this time.
something tightens in the space between you, not tension exactly, just something unspoken, something hanging.
and then you raise a brow, just slightly, voice low. “no drink?”
your tone is teasing but soft, like you’re testing the waters. her mouth parts, the usual retort balanced on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t say it. the corner of her mouth twitches, like she wants to scoff but can’t commit.
“next time,” she mutters instead, barely audible, and turns back toward the counter.
you don’t touch the mouse right away.
the monitor hums quietly, the wallpaper casting a faint blue glow against your skin, and for once, you don’t dive straight into the launcher or tap the shortcut to the usual game. your fingers hover near the keyboard, then fall to your lap, and you just sit there for a while, back against the chair, legs slightly stretched. not thinking. not planning. just sitting.
minji notices.
it’s the first thing she registers after she gets back to her seat — that you're not making any noise. no rapid clicks, no trash talk bleeding into the air, no calls to teammates or victory yells. just stillness. and you, backlit by the screen, your shoulders curved a little inward like maybe today isn’t about winning.
she keeps pretending to look busy.
flips a page in the logbook, checks the register even though no one else has come in. her eyes drift past the screen when she thinks it won’t matter, but you haven’t moved much. the ramen’s beside you now, lid peeled open halfway, steam curling up gently. she watches you stir it with your chopsticks, not eating yet, just watching the broth swirl.
a small part of her wonders if something happened.
not that she cares. not really. not in any way she’s going to admit. she just—
you’re not like this. and for a second, she’s not sure if she likes it better or worse.
you glance toward the counter once — just briefly, eyes flicking up through your lashes — and catch her looking.
she doesn’t look away fast enough.
you don’t smirk. you don’t say anything. just blink once, tilt your head slightly like you’re seeing her for the first time instead of the hundredth.
then you finally speak.
“you ever get bored, sitting there all day?”
minji doesn’t answer right away.
the question lands differently than the ones you usually throw at her — no sarcasm, no grin. it’s too normal. too honest. and it leaves her unsure whether you’re trying to make conversation or just filling the quiet.
she leans back in her chair slightly, eyes still on you.
“depends who’s walking in,” she says.
it’s vague. safe. but you catch the edge of it. your lips twitch like you want to grin — not the obnoxious kind, but the quiet, knowing one. like you know exactly what she means. like maybe today you don’t need her to spell it out.
you finally start eating, still slow, blowing gently on the noodles before slurping them in one smooth, practiced motion. you eat like someone who's used to feeding themself in quiet corners. like someone who knows when to take their time.
minji watches you again — not for long, just long enough to notice the way you pause between bites, the way your gaze sometimes drifts toward the window, or the shelves, or nowhere at all.
maybe something did happen.
maybe you just didn’t want to go home.
maybe — and this thought takes its time arriving — maybe you came here because it was the only place you felt like showing up to.
you finish the noodles slowly, the broth mostly gone, and for a moment, you just sit with the bowl in front of you, chopsticks resting on top, head tilted slightly toward the screen. the cursor drifts lazily across the desktop. and then you click.
a game launches — not the usual one, not the one you and your friends scream over — something quieter. older. the kind that loads with a low chime and no fancy splash screens. it hums to life in windowed mode, a familiar map blinking into view. you stretch one arm overhead, crack your neck to the side, and settle in.
minji notices the sound before she looks — faint, but enough to cut through the cafe’s low hum. she knows the game. it’s single-player. no shouting. no co-op. she doesn’t remember ever seeing you play it before.
you move differently when you play this one. more focused. less chaotic. you click with purpose, not force. your eyes don’t dart around like you’re chasing a kill count — they stay low, steady. there’s no music playing, just in-game footsteps and the occasional sound effect, and for some reason that makes the quiet feel heavier.
minji pretends to keep working, but her eyes drift up more often now.
you don’t seem to notice. or maybe you do, and just don’t care.
after a while, she stands. walks around the desk slowly, not like she has somewhere to be but like she just remembered something minor. her fingers trail along the edge of the counter out of habit. she passes the snack rack, glances at it like she’s checking inventory, then steps closer to your aisle.
it’s not subtle. and the excuse isn’t good.
“i think that chair’s been squeaking lately.”
you pause your game, turn slightly in your seat. “what?”
minji points vaguely at the base of your chair. “the wheel. or maybe the backrest. someone said it was noisy yesterday.”
you lean back experimentally, rock the chair once. it doesn’t squeak.
“seems fine to me.”
minji doesn’t move. her hand stays on the top of the divider like she needs to lean on it to stay balanced. she glances down at you, but your eyes are still curious — not teasing, not smug. just looking at her like she’s not as unreadable as she thinks she is.
you turn back to the screen. “you sure you didn’t just want to see what i was playing?”
she exhales through her nose. “as if.”
you smile without looking at her. “you can watch if you want.”
minji doesn't answer. doesn’t leave, either. just stays there for a few more seconds — long enough for the quiet to feel like something neither of you can explain away.
then she turns back toward the counter. slowly.
but not before glancing at the screen one more time.
just long enough to see that you named the save file after your screen name.
and maybe — maybe — she kind of likes that she recognized it right away.
the thing about weekends is that they don’t start slowly. not here. not at the cafe.
by the time minji opens up — keys jangling, shutters clattering, the metal door groaning like it resents being forced awake — there’s already a line of regulars hovering near the entrance, pretending they just happened to be walking by at the exact moment she lifts the gate. she knows better. she’s stopped questioning it.
the floor hums as the units boot up one by one. a ripple of light spreads across the rows of monitors, screen savers blinking to life like eyes opening from sleep. minji moves through it all without thinking — disinfects the keyboards, checks the snack inventory, updates the queue sheet. the rhythm is familiar. muscle memory. every saturday starts like this.
except now, she’s waiting.
she doesn’t mean to. really. but somewhere between checking the receipt roll and counting headset wires, her brain starts preparing for it. the shift. the disruption.
you.
you and your friends — the human hurricane. the noise she hears even through her own earbuds, the cause of at least three cable replacements and one unreported dent in a monitor stand. you’re always late morning or early afternoon. never alone. always loud.
minji glances at the clock. ten-thirty.
you never show before eleven. she should have a little more time.
still, she finds herself already bracing for it — the clatter of the door, the chorus of overlapping voices, the way your laugh always cuts sharper than the others and how, without fail, you end up in the same corner booth like it’s yours by birthright. no one else even tries to sit there anymore. she hasn’t reserved it for you, not officially. but she hasn’t stopped you either.
she sighs through her nose, clicks her pen twice against the desk, and opens the logbook. nothing broken yet today. a good sign.
outside, the sun’s already starting to bake the pavement. traffic’s heavier than usual. a dog barks, distant but persistent. minji taps her finger against her lip, squints at the monitor, and refreshes the time tracker for the third time in ten minutes.
it’s not like she’s looking forward to it.
she’s just — aware.
aware in the way someone might be aware of an incoming storm. not afraid. not excited. just… quietly preparing.
because you always come in like you own the air you breathe. like the rules don’t really apply unless you feel like they do. and lately — only lately — she’s noticed the way your eyes find her quicker than they used to. the way you smile now, just a little slower, like there’s something you’re holding back for later. something just for her.
she hates that she’s started looking forward to that part.
a little.
just a little.
the pen stalls halfway through a note about restocking ramen. she sets it down, leans back in the chair, and crosses her arms.
it’s not even eleven yet.
but she already knows what’s about to walk through that door.
the bell rings at exactly 11:07.
minji doesn’t flinch. she just closes the drawer she wasn’t really reorganizing, tilts her chin slightly like she’s only stretching her neck. doesn’t look up. not yet.
she knows it’s you.
it’s not just the sound of the door — it’s the cadence of it. the soft slam of a palm pushing it open too confidently, the hitch of your shoe against the doormat, the almost melodic rhythm of your steps like you’re trying not to run but also not trying that hard to walk. she hears more than one pair of feet — of course you didn’t come alone — but your steps are the only ones she zeroes in on without meaning to. always have. the others don’t matter. not as much. they’re the noise. you’re the signal.
and sure enough — when she finally looks up, it’s you at the front of the pack, all bright eyes and untucked confidence, bag slung over your back like it weighs nothing, like you couldn’t care less that it’s hanging open and there’s a half-crushed plastic bottle sticking out from the side. your friends are already halfway through the greeting process, calling dibs on chairs you haven’t paid for yet, but you take your time walking toward the desk.
of course you do.
you shoot her that look — the one that says hi without saying anything, all familiar and easy like yesterday didn’t happen the way it did. like you didn’t stand there unbuttoning your uniform while she stared, wordless and paralyzed, stuck somewhere between outrage and… whatever that other thing was.
minji doesn’t let herself react. she just stares.
you blink once, slowly, then grin. a real one this time. full teeth, crinkled nose. a little obnoxious. the kind that usually means you’re about to make a bad decision and want her to witness it.
“hi,” you say, casual like you’re not here to ruin the rest of her shift. “six hours.”
six. hours.
minji’s eyebrow twitches. “are you serious?”
you nod solemnly, hands in your pockets now, shoulders slouched forward like the weight of responsibility is just too much. “we brought snacks. we’ll behave. mostly.”
“you never behave.”
“then adjust your expectations.”
there’s a sharp snort from somewhere behind you — probably the tall one who always kicks the CPU when he dies in-game — but minji ignores it. her eyes stay on you. and for a second, you think she’s going to say something about yesterday. you think she’ll bring up the uniform stunt, the rule-bending, the smug way you left after your session like you’d won something.
but she doesn’t.
she just sighs, turns to the monitor, and starts logging your hours like it’s any other day. like you’re any other customer.
except she still doesn’t tell you how much it is until you ask. and when you pass the cash across the desk, your fingers graze hers — on purpose or by accident, you won’t say — and she doesn’t pull away right away.
you give your usual name. not your real one — the gamer tag, the dumb screenname she’s seen on too many monitors followed by too many kill-death ratios. she writes it down without looking up.
minji’s been mentally preparing herself for this.
she knew — the moment she saw your name in the logbook — that today was going to be loud. chaotic. the kind of shift that ends with her shoulders tense and her throat dry from saying “keep it down” too many times to a group that never listens. you, especially.
but even then, she’s still not quite ready for the full volume of it. the shouting, the cheering, the groans of defeat every time one of your teammates chokes a round. it spills from your aisle like smoke, curling through the café’s thin air like it owns the place. like you do.
and it’s not just the noise. it’s the way you sit — half-slouched, foot up on the CPU tower like it’s a footrest, headset askew, one hand flying between your mouse and the bag of snacks at your side. it’s the way your laugh rings out, too unfiltered, too real, like you don’t care who hears. like you forgot she’s even here.
she tells herself she’s only looking because you’re a problem. a disturbance. a managerial headache she needs to monitor.
but then someone — one of the louder boys, the one with the bleached fringe and loud opinions — leans across your chair, points at your screen, and says too loudly, “you only got that kill ‘cause desk girl’s watching.”
and that’s when she glances up for real.
not just a passing glance. a full turn of the head. brows slightly drawn together, pen halting mid-stroke.
you don’t answer right away. you’re too focused, too locked in. but your mouth curls slightly, and your eyes flick briefly toward the desk. just once. then back to the game.
your friend whistles, nudging your chair. “ohhh, you so did that on purpose.”
“shut up,” you say, but you’re grinning now. it’s a bad cover.
“someone’s gotta tell her. you keep showing up like this, she’s gonna start charging you double.”
“then i’ll just work here.”
minji doesn’t move. doesn’t look like she heard.
but her hand tightens slightly around her pen. not enough to snap it. just enough to feel it.
she doesn’t say anything. not then. not even when your whole row erupts again over some last-minute win and the one with the loudest voice starts banging the desk in celebration like you’re in a stadium. she just stands, walks over with a dustpan she doesn’t need, and pauses near the aisle entrance.
you catch her eye. mid-smile. your headset halfway off.
and even from where she stands, she can see how quick the grin softens. just a little. not shy. just—smaller.
she doesn’t say anything. just meets your gaze for a beat too long, then turns away.
you don’t really mean to stay this long.
most of your friends have already left — not with dramatic exits or grand goodbyes, just gradually, one by one, until the noise thinned out and the aisle emptied and you were the only one still here, headset pulled down around your neck, chair turned sideways to let one leg hang off. your game’s still open, but you haven’t moved in a while. haven’t clicked anything. haven’t even respawned.
instead, you’re watching the light.
it comes in slanted now, low and gold, leaking through the wide front window like it’s been waiting all day. it hits the rows of monitors and spills onto the scuffed tiles near the snack shelf, casting long, slow shadows over everything. and in the middle of it — barely catching the edge of it, actually — is minji.
she’s not doing much. just sitting behind the desk with her elbows propped up, a pen twirling in her fingers, her eyes following something on the screen in front of her. it’s not you. she’s not looking at you. and somehow that makes it worse.
you tell yourself you’re just tired. that’s why your chest feels tight. that’s why your fingers are fidgeting with the drawstrings on your sweatpants. that’s why you’re still here.
eventually, you stand. stretch. gather the courage that’s been poking at the back of your throat for ten minutes.
you approach the desk again — second time in half an hour — holding nothing this time. no ramen cup, no fake reason. just the half-used spoon still in your hoodie pocket and your hands stuffed deep into the front.
minji glances up.
you pause. shift your weight. and say, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, “you’re still here.”
she raises an eyebrow. “i work here.”
“i know. just… surprised.”
“that i’m not running away from you?”
you smirk. “kind of.”
her lips twitch, almost smiling, but she doesn’t answer. just looks at you. steady. unreadable.
you clear your throat. “you looked bored.”
“i was fine.”
“you looked bored,” you insist, leaning forward, elbows bracing the counter. “i figured i’d do you a favor. keep you entertained.”
she doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s close.
“with what,” she asks. “more excuses?”
you tap the spoon twice against the desk.
“nah,” you say. “i think i ran out.”
minji doesn’t know why she doesn’t just tell you to go home.
you’ve already overstayed. your hours ran out half an hour ago. you’re lingering, clearly, with that restless energy that says you don’t want to be anywhere else but also don’t know how to say it out loud. she knows that kind of mood. has lived inside it more than she cares to admit.
she watches the way your hand taps the plastic spoon against the edge of the desk like you forgot it’s even there. how your eyes keep drifting toward the window, then back to her, like you’re trying to see how far you can push whatever this is before she draws a line.
she doesn’t.
not yet.
instead, she says, quieter now, “your friends know you’re skipping?”
your mouth pulls into a crooked grin. “some of them. not all.”
“won’t you get in trouble?”
you shrug. “not unless someone tells.”
her eyes meet yours. level. unreadable.
“what makes you think i won’t?”
you lean in a little, voice lower, like you’re trying to draw her in with you. “because if you wanted to get rid of me, you would’ve already.”
that does something.
not much. just the faintest flicker across her features. something close to surprise. something quieter than interest but not quite disinterest either.
she doesn’t answer. just looks down at her logbook, pen still poised over the margin, the last note still unfinished.
you watch her in the silence.
then, just as she starts to move again, you say — too fast, too casual — “do you want me to?”
she freezes.
it’s not a dare. not really. it’s barely even a question. more like a feeling that slipped out before you could stop it. one that sat too long behind your ribs and got tired of waiting for the right moment.
her eyes lift again, slow.
and this time, her voice is softer. almost wary. “what?”
“go,” you say. “do you want me to?”
the second time, it sounds smaller.
and for a moment, you can tell she hears it that way too.
she doesn’t speak right away.
outside, the last rays of light stretch across the café floor, warm and dying. someone walks by the front door, their footsteps soft against the sidewalk. a car engine hums into the distance. inside, it’s still. just the two of you.
finally, minji exhales.
not quite a no.
but not a yes either.
just something in between. something you decide — in that moment — is enough to stay just a little longer.
you don’t sit back down right away.
not because you’re planning anything, not because you have some clever line ready to go — just because you’re waiting to see what she’ll do. if she’ll look at you again. if she’ll say something softer this time. if the tension in her shoulders will finally settle.
she doesn’t tell you to leave.
but she doesn’t ask you to stay either.
instead, she pushes the spoon gently aside with one finger and opens the drawer beside her, pulling something out that you can’t see. there’s a brief crinkle of foil, the sound light, almost too quiet to notice, and then—
“here,” she says, and she’s holding it out to you without meeting your eyes. “you’re still here, might as well eat something.”
it’s a biscuit pack. the kind they sell in bundles. sweet, a little stale if it’s been out too long. familiar.
you blink.
“you’re giving me snacks now?”
“don’t make it weird,” she says, eyes flicking up for a second. “it’s probably expired.”
you take it anyway.
tear open the corner and pop one into your mouth. it’s sweeter than you expect. faintly coconutty. a little soft. you chew slower than necessary.
“you’re nicer when it’s quiet,” you murmur, just loud enough.
“you’re quieter when no one’s watching,” she replies, dry, but not unkind.
it makes your mouth twitch. not a laugh, not quite — but almost. the kind of almost you know she catches, even if she pretends not to.
you let the silence stretch for a while after that. there’s a rhythm in it. not tense, not awkward — just there. filled with unspoken things and the soft hum of the monitor and the clock ticking behind the shelf.
you lean on your elbow, picking at the wrapper now, fingers brushing crumbs into your palm. she types something into the logbook again. doesn’t comment when you start talking a little too easily.
“i think i’ve seen you at school before.”
her head lifts.
“you’re in morning class, right?”
a pause. then, slowly, she nods. “you’re in afternoon.”
“i thought so,” you say, like it’s only just clicking now. like you hadn’t already pieced it together weeks ago, when you caught a glimpse of her in the hallway near the admin office, hair tied up and sleeves rolled neatly. “makes sense.”
she looks at you, brows slightly raised. “how?”
“you seem like someone who gets things over with early.”
“and you seem like someone who doesn’t.”
you grin. “you’re not wrong.”
there’s a beat of quiet, but it’s different now — lighter.
you let the last bite of the biscuit melt on your tongue and say, “y/n, by the way.”
she doesn’t answer right away.
but when she does, it’s softer. almost like a secret.
“minji.”
it’s earlier than usual when you show up. not by much — maybe thirty minutes — but enough to catch her still halfway through opening tasks, sleeves rolled to the elbow, hair scraped up like she didn’t bother with a mirror, just needed it out of her face. she’s crouched near the counter, tugging open the bottom drawer with a familiar click of effort, and doesn’t look up right away when the doorbell chimes. but her hand stills on the handle for a second, eyes flicking sideways, already knowing.
you don’t say anything at first. just stand in the doorway, holding a nearly-finished bottle of soda and a paper-wrapped pack of fries like you walked over from somewhere else, like you just decided to drop by — not to play, not yet. just to exist in the space for a while. she looks up slowly, head tilted, face unreadable in that classic minji way.
you smile, lazy and shameless. “you’re open, right?”
she doesn’t sigh, but she might as well. “unfortunately.”
you wander in, ignoring the dryness in her voice, letting the cool air of the café settle over your shoulders. there’s a chair near the counter — not meant for customers, technically, but you’ve sat there too many times to pretend it’s not yours — and you drop into it like gravity brought you here on instinct. minji shuts the drawer, leans slightly against the edge of the desk, arms loose at her sides, like she’s still deciding if she’s annoyed or just resigned.
“you always open alone?” you ask, gesturing vaguely with a fry.
“on weekends.”
you nod, like you expected that answer. “makes sense.”
her brows raise slightly. “why?”
you shrug. “you seem like someone who doesn’t like people touching her stuff.”
she blinks. stares. not impressed.
you grin wider. chew your fry. say nothing else.
for a while, there’s nothing but the soft hum of machines waking up around you, the buzz of a monitor screen still on standby, the faint, familiar clatter of minji checking something off a notepad. your bottle rests between you on the desk. the paper wrapper for the fries crinkles under your hand. you pick at it absently.
then, without looking at her, you say, “saw you in school yesterday.”
minji doesn’t flinch. doesn’t even pause in her writing. “i know.”
you blink. lean back slightly in your chair. “oh.”
this time, she glances up. brief, unreadable. “you were with dani.”
you nod, a little slower now. “yeah.”
she says nothing else, just flips to a new page.
you speak again, voice a little lower. “we’ve been friends since middle school.”
still no reaction.
“i don’t usually go to school that early, but she begged,” you add, tone lightening. “made me carry her books and everything.”
minji hums. a sound barely there, almost automatic.
you smile faintly. “she’s annoying like that.”
“she’s nice,” minji says eventually, like it’s just a fact, like she’s sorting her thoughts out loud without meaning to.
“you like her better than me?” you tease, tilting your head, letting your voice stretch around the grin you’re half-hiding.
there’s a pause. she taps her pen once against the desk.
“depends on the day,” she says, and doesn’t look up again.
you laugh, soft but sincere. toss a coin between your fingers and watch it catch the light.
the day trickles by slowly. nothing urgent happens. no crowd pours in. the usual group chat is quiet. you boot up a game eventually, more for background noise than anything else, and then wander back to the desk with the half-full soda bottle still in hand. you set it on the edge of the counter — not too close, but close enough to be noticed.
she eyes it once, then looks at you. you raise an eyebrow like you're daring her to ask.
“got two straws if you want.”
she folds her arms. “didn’t ask.”
“didn’t say you had to.”
she stares for a second, unreadable again. then she walks past you, heading for the back shelf. and as she does, her voice trails behind her, low and casual.
“leave some.”
you freeze for half a second. then you look at the bottle. then at her back.
you smile.
and go back to pretending you weren’t waiting for that exact response.
minji doesn’t usually think about you between shifts. not in the way people think about things they’re curious about, or nervous about, or—whatever. it’s just that when she comes in, she has a rhythm. keys. lights. the familiar click of the drawer. pen cap between her teeth. and when she pulls the stool out from behind the desk and sits, sometimes, a little part of her does wonder if today’s going to be a you day. not because she’s looking forward to it. not exactly. but because it changes the shape of the hours. stretches them, tilts them on their side.
you’re not there when she opens. that’s normal. it’s a weekday again. early afternoon. still cool outside. she sets her bag under the desk and logs into the system, starts marking a few things down. headset seven’s still broken. she made a note to replace the plug but forgot. she writes that down. the fridge hums louder than usual. she notes that too. everything feels ordinary.
she doesn’t see you until past noon.
when the door opens, the bell rings sharper than usual. she doesn’t look up right away. she’s mid-scroll through an inventory sheet. she hears the door swing open and closed, hears footsteps that don’t rush or stomp or drag — they’re just... there. familiar enough to stall her hand on the mouse. she waits half a second. then looks up.
you’re walking toward the counter again, one hand tucked into your hoodie pocket, the other holding a small pastry wrapped in bakery paper. your skirt’s different today. longer. your socks are mismatched. you’ve got that same expression you always wear when you’re about to say something stupid. and for some reason, that makes her exhale a little through her nose, a breath not quite a laugh.
you stop at the counter. you set the pastry down like it’s a peace offering. “for your trauma,” you say.
minji stares at it. “what trauma.”
you raise your brows. gesture to yourself. “the stripping.”
she almost chokes. instead, she blinks. straightens a little in her seat. “you’re the one who did it.”
“i warned you,” you say, leaning an elbow against the desk. “told you i’d take it off.”
minji looks at the pastry again. it’s ube-cheese. not her favorite, but you wouldn’t know that.
she reaches for it anyway.
“you’re here early,” she says.
you shrug. “danielle had a club thing. made me come with her again. we got out early, though, so i figured i’d swing by.”
“you didn’t bring her?”
“she had to go home. something about her dog and a missing sock.”
minji hums. she unwraps the pastry slowly, more focused on not making a mess than on answering you. she takes a small bite. chews. swallows. “thanks,” she says, not quite meeting your eyes.
you smile. lean a little more of your weight onto the counter. “so you do eat.”
she side-eyes you. “what do you think i do, photosynthesize?”
“wasn’t sure,” you say. “you’re always behind the desk like some npc.”
“you play too much.”
“you monitor me too much.”
“you’re loud.”
“you like it.”
her chewing slows. she doesn’t say anything to that. just looks at you — eyes calm, unreadable again, but not cold. just... still. and when she speaks, it’s quieter. “do you talk like this to everyone?”
you pause. straighten just slightly.
“only people who look like they’re dying of boredom.”
minji lets out a slow breath. shakes her head once. “you’re ridiculous.”
“but you’re not asking me to leave.”
she says nothing.
and you don’t press it.
you reach for the straw dispenser, snag one, pop it into the cup you didn’t buy here but brought in anyway. minji should scold you for that. but she doesn’t. she watches you take a sip and watches you not flinch when the drink’s obviously watered down. you glance toward the far row of computers, the corner where you always sit, and hesitate.
“you’re not gonna be there long, right?” she asks.
you shrug. “maybe.”
“your friends coming?”
you shake your head. “not today. thought i’d play solo for once.”
minji raises a brow. “what, you lost a bet?”
you grin. “nah. just figured you needed a break.”
she snorts. it’s quiet, almost covered by the sound of the chair squeaking as she shifts. but it’s there.
you start walking away, drink in one hand, bag in the other. then you pause. twist a little to glance over your shoulder. “by the way.”
she looks up.
“what’s your favorite?” you ask, nodding at the pastry in her hand.
she blinks. takes another small bite without answering.
you smile wider. “i’ll guess.”
and then you disappear down the aisle, shoes quiet on the tile, leaving her staring after you like she’s still trying to figure out if you’re just messing with her or if this is something she should start paying attention to.
she looks down at the wrapper in her hand. chews slower. and tells herself it’s nothing. still.
still.
you always enter the café like you never left it.
it’s a kind of second home, in a way — not because it’s warm or welcoming (minji rarely gives you more than a blink before she’s back to her monitor), but because it’s familiar. the floor tiles with their small, worn cracks. the faint smell of instant noodles and plastic packaging. the soft hum of screens that never sleep.
it’s easy here. easy to be loud. to laugh too hard. to drag your friends into arguments over which gun is better or whose fault the last match was.
and minji — she’s part of that familiarity now too. not in the way your friends are, not loud and messy, but quiet, backgrounded, like the hum of the fridge or the way the fluorescent lights always flicker a little near the snack shelf. she’s always there when you arrive. always at the desk, chin in one hand, pen tapping against some old receipt or repair log, eyes flicking up only when necessary.
you like that about her. that she doesn’t flinch. doesn’t react much, even when she’s clearly judging you. there’s something kind of fun about trying to get a rise out of her. like a game you haven’t figured out the rules to yet.
today, though, you don’t push it right away. you dump your bag into the usual seat, slide into the one next to it, throw your leg over the edge like you own the whole aisle. the others are still arguing about snacks and seat numbers, so you just lean back and glance at her through the space between monitors.
she’s pretending not to look. but you know she hears you. you saw the way she sighed.
you’d call it exasperation if her gaze didn’t always linger a second too long. like she’s not quite sure what to make of you. that makes you grin.
there’s something about being looked at like that — not with annoyance, not really, but with interest hidden under irritation — that makes the room feel warmer than it is.
you stretch. crack your knuckles. toss your friends a look. you’ll play a round or two. then maybe swing by the counter with an excuse. a dumb one. something that makes her raise her eyebrow the way she always does.
something to make her look again.
minji tries not to anticipate it.
tries to focus on the list in front of her — the one with today’s headset assignments and payment logs and reminders to restock the cup noodles. but her eyes keep flicking upward, toward the monitor that shows the corner where you and your friends are sitting.
your screen flashes bright once — a familiar game loading interface — and she exhales quietly through her nose.
right on schedule.
she busies herself with inventory for the snack shelf. checks the expiration dates on the chips even though she already did that yesterday. picks up a can of soda, puts it back. double-checks the machine’s coin slot.
you haven’t come up yet. but she knows you will.
you always do, somehow. not every visit, not every hour — just enough that she’s started to recognize the rhythm of it. there’s always a pause between matches. a break in the laughter. a lull before the approach. it’s never urgent. never important.
just you.
standing at the counter with that same tilt to your voice. always starting with some throwaway line that has nothing to do with what you actually want to say.
she doesn’t know why you do it. or maybe she does. maybe she just hasn’t admitted it yet.
and just as the thought crosses her mind, the bell dings again.
not from the door — from the counter. the small metal one you tap when you’re trying to be annoying.
she looks up, slowly.
you’re already leaning against the edge of the desk, elbow on the counter, that bad excuse halfway out of your mouth.
“hey,” you say. “do you guys have — like, i don’t know — ethernet cables that are infused with luck or something? because i swear i’m lagging only when i’m about to win.”
minji stares at you.
you grin.
you knew it was a terrible excuse the second you said it.
it doesn’t even make sense. there’s nothing wrong with your connection. you’re doing fine. your team just lost because you weren’t paying attention for half the round — too busy sneaking glances through the gap in the divider to see if she was looking up.
she wasn’t.
so now you’re here. at the counter. with the dumbest question you could think of, just to get her attention.
and it works. kind of.
she’s looking at you now. deadpan. unimpressed. but not annoyed, not exactly.
“lucky ethernet cables,” she repeats, voice flat.
you nod solemnly. “yeah. for, like, clutch rounds. maybe gold-plated. blessed by a priest. i don’t know. family trade secret?”
she blinks once. then says, “i’m not even going to respond to that.”
you press your palms together. “please. this is a critical situation.”
“you’re so dramatic,” she mutters, but there’s a shift in her expression — something small. not quite a smile. not yet. but close. her mouth twitches at the corner like she’s fighting one off.
you let the silence stretch a little. let the moment breathe. then you shift your weight and glance casually at the monitor on her side of the desk.
“you’re here early,” you say.
“so are you,” she answers without missing a beat.
you nod, then tilt your head. “danielle dragged me to school this morning. some volunteer thing. i thought i’d just kill time here after.”
minji hums, not surprised — just taking that in. the way you say her name so casually. like it’s normal. like of course you know dani. she remembers, vaguely, how you mentioned her last time. something about getting to school early. she didn’t think too hard about it then. but now, with you standing here again, your fingers tapping a light rhythm on the counter, she finds herself wondering how close you actually are.
“so that’s why you’re early,” she says, eyes flicking briefly to the clock.
“technically, i’m late,” you reply, grin lazy. “but this seemed like the better option.”
she doesn’t argue with that. doesn’t say much at all. just shifts a few receipts on the desk, like they need organizing. like she’s not watching you from the corner of her eye.
you stay there a moment longer, pretending to scan the snack shelf like you’re still deciding if you’re hungry. you’re not.
you just don’t want to walk away yet.
and she doesn’t ask you to.
you’ve started coming in a little earlier than usual. not always — sometimes your class drags or the bus takes forever or you really do lose track of time somewhere between the canteen and the corner store — but on the days you manage it, you find yourself slipping into the café just before the real noise starts. before the others show up. before the air thickens with energy and yelling and the heat of too many computers running at once.
minji always looks up. just for a second. just long enough for you to catch it.
she never says anything about it. doesn’t point out that you’ve started picking the seat closer to the front instead of your usual far-right corner. doesn’t comment on how you sometimes open a game but don’t really play — just click through the menus with your headphones around your neck, one ear exposed, listening.
and you don’t say anything either.
not when she walks past to stock the snack shelf and pauses when she sees your favorite chips already gone. not when she hands you a replacement without you asking. not when she clears a plastic cup from your desk like it’s normal, like it’s not the kind of thing she does for anyone else.
your friends joke about it sometimes — call you “minji’s favorite” when she gives you exact change without waiting, or when she lets you stay five minutes past your time without charging you extra. you always roll your eyes. call them delusional. but you don’t correct them.
because maybe they’re not wrong.
you don’t know when the shift happened. when the scoldings stopped sounding annoyed and started sounding amused. when the stares started lingering. when your name started sounding different coming out of her mouth.
you just know that lately, when you show up and she’s already there — hair pulled back, pen between her fingers, head slightly tilted as she reads something on the screen — it feels like arriving somewhere familiar. not quite home. not quite safe.
but something close.
and she looks at you now the same way she did yesterday, and the day before — like she knows you’ll be back again tomorrow. and the day after that.
and you think — yeah.
probably.
the bell rings a little harder than usual this time, like the door caught the wind outside, and minji instinctively glances up from the monitor. she isn’t expecting anyone just yet — it’s not rush hour, and the usual boys from your crowd haven’t barged in hollering yet — but the sound still nudges her gaze toward the entrance, one hand still resting near the keyboard. and then she freezes.
you walk in like it’s nothing, like it’s a tuesday, like you didn’t already spend the better half of last week annoying her with your constant hovering and lazy excuses. you’re dressed in a black hoodie this time, hair still messily pulled back like you only half tried, a bag slung over one shoulder. but it’s not just you. walking in behind you, a beat slower, are danielle and haerin.
danielle grins the moment she sees minji, a wide, familiar, too-happy smile. she lifts a hand like she’s waving across the room in a school hallway. haerin just nods, quiet as always, but her eyes flick across the room like she’s already mapping out where she wants to sit. minji’s still trying to process the fact that the three of you just entered her family's café together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“yo,” you say casually, stopping in front of the counter. “three stations.”
minji’s eyes flick to danielle, then to you. “you didn’t say dani was the friend.”
you raise a brow. “you didn’t ask.”
danielle steps forward with a light giggle, slipping a few bills across the counter. “i told her to bring me here. been ages since i last passed by. your mom gave me candy the last time, remember?”
minji remembers. barely. dani had been a middle schooler then, all bangs and braces. now she’s taller, louder, and somehow even more chaotic. haerin’s already halfway to the far aisle without a word.
minji doesn’t respond right away, just keys in the payment, trying to act unbothered. still, something shifts in her posture — her back a little straighter, tone a little cooler. it’s not that she minds seeing dani again. or haerin. but there’s something about seeing you with them. like you belong with them. like you have your own world outside the counter she hides behind.
she pushes the receipt toward you without looking directly at your face. “you know your usual seat’s taken.”
you shrug. “doesn’t matter.”
you lead them to the row near minji's desk, danielle plopping down beside you, haerin sliding into the edge seat with her usual silence. minji watches from the counter, pretending to focus on something on-screen, but her gaze keeps flickering up every few seconds. you’re laughing at something. you lean sideways to whisper something to dani. she shoves your shoulder playfully.
the faint buzz of voices carries over, not loud enough to disrupt the other customers, but enough to fill the space. it’s not annoying. not yet. but it’s... warm. more than usual. maybe too much.
half an hour in, just when she’s starting to settle back into routine, her mom calls from the back. a delivery came early — snacks they were supposed to restock tomorrow. someone needs to help unload. there’s no one else at the counter. no one she trusts with the till. no one she can afford to leave alone with the computers.
she glances across the café. most kids are locked in, headphones on, eyes glazed over from long hours of minecraft or league or whatever’s trending again. danielle’s now half-asleep in her chair. haerin’s watching a cooking vlog on mute.
and you. you’re fidgeting with a packet of chips and occasionally nudging dani awake.
minji exhales through her nose and stands.
she approaches quietly, her steps soft against the tiled floor, and you only notice her when she stops right next to your chair.
“hey,” she says, like it’s nothing. “need a favor.”
you look up, one brow raised, a smirk already threatening to creep onto your lips. “you asking me for help? that’s new.”
she rolls her eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “just for a few minutes. someone needs to stay at the desk. no one else.”
you blink. “you sure you wanna leave your sacred kingdom in my hands?”
“no,” she says flatly. “but you’re the only one i can yell at later.”
danielle hums sleepily, not quite paying attention, and haerin doesn’t react at all.
you stand, stretch your arms a little too dramatically, then flash a lazy salute. “yes, boss.”
minji ignores the way her pulse stutters for a second.
you follow her back toward the counter, and for the first time since you walked in, minji feels the space between you settle into something different — not tense, not loud, but steady. your shoulder brushes hers briefly when you round the desk, and she steps aside without a word, letting you slide into her chair.
she gives you a few quick instructions. what not to touch. which drawer not to open. how to stall if someone actually comes to pay.
you listen, nodding with surprising seriousness.
and then, just before she turns to leave, you say it, barely above a whisper, “don’t worry. i’ll protect your empire.”
she doesn’t say anything. just rolls her eyes again and walks off.
but later, when she’s unloading boxes with her mom and hears the faint sound of your voice echoing from the front — low, teasing, something about snack prices being robbery — she smiles.
and she doesn’t even try to stop herself.
you don’t exactly behave — you never do — but you stay in the chair, you don’t press the wrong keys, you don’t let anyone slip by without logging their time, and most importantly, you don’t let anyone touch the register. minji returns after about fifteen minutes to find you propped up on one elbow, half-watching a tutorial on keyboard mods while simultaneously teasing a nearby middle schooler about their username.
she doesn’t say anything. just taps the side of the chair with her knuckles as if to say, get out, and you wordlessly stand, arms raised like a magician finishing a trick. “no customers died,” you announce. “zero casualties.”
“miraculous,” she deadpans.
you hover for a bit after that. return to your seat eventually, start another game. danielle’s more awake now and has migrated to the seat next to haerin, their conversation a quiet buzz of food cravings and someone’s cousin’s birthday party. you’re still the loudest among the three, but you’ve toned it down since earlier. and minji, from the counter, finds herself not minding as much.
the sky starts shifting outside — not quite sunset yet, but dim enough that the inside lights start to take over. golden hour creeps in through the window, dust catching the light like shimmer, and the usual after-dinner crowd starts to trickle in.
no big scene. no dramatic turning of the sign or last-minute rush. the regulars shuffle out in twos and threes, dragging the scent of instant noodles and warmed plastic with them, the soft ding of the doorbell barely registering anymore in minji’s ears. she lets the last customer know they’re shutting in ten, starts the routine while they’re still clicking away at their game — wiping down keyboards, unplugging the machines in aisle three, gathering the snack wrappers and half-empty water bottles left behind like breadcrumbs. the floor’s a mess, as usual. she’ll sweep it later.
danielle’s long gone. texted her an hour ago about dinner plans. haerin too, though minji didn’t even realize she’d left until you said, “they had to go,” in that vague, unbothered way of yours, like the idea of people coming and going never really affects you. you stayed longer than the others. not unusual. but this time, you didn’t say goodbye. just slipped out with the hoodie half-over your head, a bag of shrimp chips dangling from your fingers, muttering something about beating your high score tomorrow.
minji hadn’t looked up from the register then. she only notices now, in the dim hush after, that your seat is still slightly pushed back. not aligned with the rest.
she fixes it automatically. presses it back in. goes to wipe the mousepad — and pauses.
there’s something under the keyboard.
thin. folded. a slip of paper, crumpled slightly at the edges like it’s been in someone’s pocket all day. she pulls it out with two fingers, cautious. opens it.
it’s a receipt. yours. from earlier.
2 HOURS — ₩2,000.00
SNACK (SHIN BLACK) — ₩1,000.00
CASH RECEIVED — ₩5,000.00
CHANGE — ₩2,000.00
thank you :D
minji almost laughs. you must’ve written that smiley face. the handwriting’s awful — lopsided and uneven, pen barely pressing hard enough to leave a mark — and the ink’s smudged where it hit the moisture from your drink. she stares at it for a second longer than she should.
just a receipt. not a love note. not a secret message. just a piece of thermal paper with a doodled smile and a little wave drawn at the corner. but still, her fingers fold it again, slower this time, and instead of tossing it in the trash bin by the counter, she slides it into the back pocket of her notebook, between pages filled with headset complaints and machine restarts.
she doesn’t think about why.
the lights go off aisle by aisle. the door clicks shut behind her.
the café is unusually full for a thursday.
minji doesn’t comment on it, but she notices. she always does. notices how the rhythm changes — more clicking, more rustling of snack wrappers, more bodies pressed into the machines and cracked vinyl seats. she’s behind the counter as usual, logging rentals, wiping the same spot on the desk when she gets bored, trying not to be too obvious about the way she glances toward the back corner every now and then.
your usual spot is taken today — some kid from second year with his entire DOTA stack yelling about cooldowns — so you’re one row over, closer than usual. she hadn’t even seen you come in. just looked up at some point and there you were, half-zipped hoodie, drink sweating on the table, your left hand bracing your cheek while the other tapped lazily at the mouse.
you’ve been here for almost an hour. maybe longer.
and now you’re waving at her.
she pretends not to see it at first. just turns a page in the logbook, slow. calculated. and then you wave again, a little higher this time, like you’re trying to flag down a jeep.
she sighs through her nose and walks over.
“what.”
“headset’s busted.”
“plugged in right?”
“yes, mom.”
she gives you a look, bends down anyway. the headset jack is crooked, barely clinging to the port. she twists it slightly, pushes it in until it clicks. you both hear the dull hum of audio kicking in, the faint rumble of game sounds echoing through the cups. your eyes light up like she’s just handed you a miracle.
“fixed it,” you say, not even hiding the smugness.
minji straightens. “i fixed it.”
“yeah, but it’s my station, so i get the credit.”
she stares. long. unimpressed.
you grin up at her.
it’s stupid. dumb, really. she knows it shouldn’t feel like anything. but for some reason, standing this close — the glow of the monitor reflecting off your face, the warm-cold smell of buttered chips and citrus soda hanging in the air — it does. feel like something.
you tilt your head a little. “so… no charge for tech support, right?”
she exhales slowly. “i’ll add it to your tab.”
“ah. capitalism.”
minji’s about to walk away when she catches the screen behind you — a loading menu, not the game you usually play. she pauses. squints.
“…is that genshin?”
you shrug. “trying something new.”
“since when?”
“since dani said she pulled some five-star girl with antlers and rubbed it in my face.”
minji shakes her head, amused despite herself. “you’re so petty.”
“it’s called motivation.”
you shift in your seat, fingers tapping the mouse again, letting the music loop through the speakers now that it’s working. your foot bounces lightly under the desk.
she doesn’t leave right away.
instead, she rests a hand on the top of the monitor, leans just slightly over your shoulder. “you know you’re not even playing yet, right? you’re still in the tutorial.”
“whatever. i’m warming up.”
“you’ve been on this screen for ten minutes.”
“observation is part of strategy.”
minji rolls her eyes. “you sound like a guidance counselor.”
you laugh, soft and quick, and it slips under her skin in a way she doesn’t expect. she doesn’t have anything else to say. no excuse to keep standing there. and yet, she doesn’t move.
you glance up again, not directly at her, but just enough. the look says: you can stay, if you want.
and maybe she does.
maybe she’s just tired.
maybe it’s just easier not to pretend like this is still just about the rules.
door, weak as ever but just loud enough to catch your ear.
you don’t look up. not right away.
it only takes a second before a familiar presence slides into the seat beside you, the chair’s wheels creaking slightly under the shift of weight. there’s a rustle of a paper bag being dropped onto the desk, followed by a sigh — soft, flat, unmistakably haerin.
“i brought the chips,” she says, like it’s an obligation.
you glance sideways. “you’re an angel.”
she opens the bag, fishes one out, and eats it without offering. her eyes flicker over your screen — genshin, still paused, still in tutorial. then to your other tab. league, already queued. and then she turns her head, slow, eyebrows drawing slightly.
“…you’re gonna play that.”
“mhm.”
“i thought you were retired.”
“only from ranked,” you say, reaching over to drag a chair closer to her side. “c’mon. just one game.”
haerin doesn’t move.
you give her your best pleading face — the one that got you her last onigiri last week, the one you know is slowly wearing her down. you nudge the second mouse toward her, the headset, the cold drink you bought just in case she showed up.
“you already set this up,” she says, flat.
“no i didn’t.”
you absolutely did.
she exhales again, like she’s regretting her life choices, but her hand moves anyway. slowly. resignedly. she puts the headset on, lets it hang around her neck.
“one game.”
“swear.”
she logs in. queues up with you. and for a minute, the familiar noise returns — clicks and loading screens, quick banter, champion picks flying by.
you’re deep into the second turret when it happens.
“haerin, tower,” you say, voice calm but insistent. “ignore them. you can get the tower.”
but she’s already darted after the enemy midlaner, too focused to register what you said. two seconds later, a stun lands. her character collapses with a dramatic burst of color.
you suck your teeth. “haerin, I told you—”
and then she yells.
“Y/N SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I SLIT YOUR THROAT AND DUMP YOUR DEAD BODY IN AN ALLEWAY FOR THE STRAY CATS TO EAT—”
the café doesn’t fall completely silent, but the shout turns a few heads — mostly kids from your year, a couple of Minji’s regulars flinches a little. haerin is frozen mid-tilt, eyes wide, lips parted, like she wasn’t expecting that to come out.
you stare at her.
then she blinks. shrugs once.
“…that felt good actually.”
you snort. didn’t even try to hide the smile spreading across your face. “i know right?”
you’re still laughing when haerin slaps your wrist, a light, annoyed sort of tap, like you’re the one who embarrassed her.
you press your lips together to stop another chuckle, but it’s too late — the mood has shifted. she’s pretending to focus on respawn timers now, clicking around with newfound aggression, but you can see the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s fighting a grin.
you lean back in your chair, stretching your arms up with a quiet yawn, still riding the high of making her break character. your headset is half-off, one ear still exposed, and that’s when you hear it — the faint roll of a chair behind you, a soft clack of rubber wheels against tile.
you don’t need to turn around to know who it is.
minji walks by like she has a reason — clipboard in hand, brows slightly furrowed, the look of someone with a job to do. she doesn’t even glance at you at first. just slows near your aisle, pretends to check something on the end table — the cable bundles, the back of the outlet strips, whatever excuse she can reach for without making it too obvious.
but it is obvious. at least to you.
she crouches, half-balanced on the balls of her feet, fingers skimming along the edge of a cord that isn’t even tangled. you’re not looking directly at her, but you can feel the shape of her beside you — the shift of her weight, the subtle brush of her sleeve near your leg, the faint scent of detergent and whatever gum she’s chewing today.
haerin notices.
she doesn’t say anything — not yet — but she leans slightly forward, eyes darting from minji’s bent form to you, then back again. her expression stays flat, curious, faintly amused. the corner of her mouth lifts, just barely.
you pretend not to see it.
minji doesn’t say anything either. not a single word. she just adjusts the cable — one that doesn’t need adjusting — and then slowly stands up, brushing invisible dust from her jeans. her eyes flick across your screen for a second, then toward you, but the moment your gaze meets hers, she looks away. turns on her heel. walks back toward the front counter like she wasn’t just there.
you glance back at haerin.
she raises an eyebrow.
you raise one back.
neither of you say it out loud, but it sits between you like a loaded mouse click — the fact that minji could’ve checked any other part of the café, but she chose your aisle. crouched beside your chair. spent a beat too long pretending to fix something she didn’t need to.
you queue for another match like nothing happened.
haerin stretches with a dramatic groan, twisting her arms behind her back like she’s just finished running laps instead of playing League for less than an hour. “i’m getting a drink from that milkshake shop down the block,” she mutters, already slipping off the headset. “want anything?”
you shake your head, only half-paying attention as you hover over the match history screen. “i’m good.”
“don’t move,” she says, pointing at your forehead like it’s a threat. “when i get back, we’re trying aram.”
you salute, grin lazy. “yes, ma’am.”
she rolls her eyes, grabs her sling bag, and disappears out the door with the little bell chiming faintly behind her. you watch the empty screen for a moment, letting the quiet settle now that her energy’s stepped outside.
then you hear footsteps. slower this time.
you don’t turn around. just lean back slightly, waiting, sensing it — the way the air changes when she’s close. and sure enough, minji stops right next to you.
no clipboard. no cable excuses. nothing in her hands but the quiet weight of whatever she’s holding back.
you glance up at her.
she doesn’t speak immediately. just looks at your monitor for a beat too long. then at the empty chair next to you.
then at you.
“so… you and haerin, huh?”
you blink. the words don’t match the tone — too casual, too measured — but there’s something off under the surface, something sharp and glinting just beneath the deadpan delivery.
you raise an eyebrow. “what about me and haerin?”
“you came in together.”
“and?”
“you were loud.”
“we always are.”
“she yelled at you.”
“so do you.”
minji exhales, slow through her nose, like she’s trying very hard not to react, not to smirk, not to let you win this round. “i’ve never seen her talk that much before,” she says, like it’s an observation. “let alone raise her voice.”
“she was proud of it, actually,” you say, swiveling slightly in your chair so you’re facing her better. “said it felt good.”
minji’s jaw shifts.
you smile, just enough to be annoying. “why? jealous?”
“of her yelling at you?” she deadpans.
“of me playing with her.”
her silence says more than anything else.
you don’t push further. just look at her for a moment, let the implication hang. let her think about it. you’ve never seen her like this — lingering, hesitant, clearly trying to look unaffected and failing by the inch.
“i’ve known danielle for longer,” you say suddenly, like it’s unrelated. “we’re not close-close, but… i’ve been around. it’s not weird that i know haerin too.”
“i didn’t say it was weird.”
you look at her. “but you were wondering.”
she doesn’t deny it.
you watch her glance down the hallway, toward the door. haerin’s still out. no one else around. dead hour again, just like yesterday.
you tap the edge of your mouse. “you can sit, you know.”
minji blinks. “i’m working.”
“you’re standing here.”
“i’m—” she stops. reconsiders. “—checking.”
you lean back with a grin. “on me?”
she turns to walk away.
you laugh. “jealous.”
she doesn’t answer, but her ears are pink.
later in the afternoon, the café’s busier than usual. not packed, but active — the hum of machines, keys clacking, some kid snorting at a meme two rows over. you’re back in your usual spot by the window. minji knows because she looked up the moment the door opened. she didn’t mean to — it’s reflex by now. and the moment she sees the familiar edge of your school jacket, she sighs under her breath.
except you’re not alone.
you walk in first, slouched and half-dragging your feet like it’s been a long day, and right behind you is haerin, earbuds still in, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands.
minji stiffens.
you’re laughing at something she’s saying. or maybe it’s the other way around. either way, you look comfortable. like it’s normal.
and for some reason, that gets under her skin more than she wants to admit.
she doesn’t show it though. doesn’t say anything when you pass the desk. just flicks her gaze over to acknowledge your presence. maybe a little colder than usual.
you don’t notice. or pretend not to.
you and haerin settle in the same corner again. same setup. this time, there’s less chaos — no yelling — but the two of you sit close. you lean over to her screen a few times. she nudges your shoulder once. laughs once. it’s small, but minji sees it all.
after an hour, haerin gets up to go to the restroom, and that’s when minji moves.
she walks over — casually, like she’s doing a round — and stops just a step behind your chair.
“you really like bringing people here, huh?”
you pause, turn a little. “that a problem?”
minji shrugs, arms crossed now. “depends on the person.”
you blink. and then it clicks. “you don’t like haerin?”
“i didn’t say that.”
“but you think something’s going on.”
“do i?”
you tilt your head, leaning forward a little so she has to look at you directly. “why don’t you just ask what you want to ask?”
she holds your gaze for a second longer than she should. then: “are you seeing her?”
you don’t answer immediately. not because you’re stalling, but because you’re thinking — because this might be the only moment where this whole thing finally flips.
so you smile, slow. “no. we’re friends.”
“just friends?”
“i can say the same about us.”
minji breathes in like she’s about to say something. but it comes out differently.
“then go out with me.”
you blink. not because you didn’t see it coming, but because she actually said it.
“what?”
“a date. saturday. i’m off.”
you grin. lean back in your seat. “is this you marking your territory?”
“maybe,” she says, deadpan. “you gonna say yes or not?”
you shrug, just to mess with her a bit longer. “what if i already have plans?”
“cancel them.”
you laugh, soft and low. “fine. but only if you don’t wear that weird striped jacket again.”
“that jacket’s cool.”
“you’re delusional.”
minji smirks. “see you saturday.”
and just like that, she turns and walks back to the desk, looking a little too smug.
you’re still smiling when haerin comes back.
it doesn’t happen all at once.
they fall into rhythm slowly — first out of habit, then something more. minji gets used to hearing your voice echo faintly through the café during slow afternoons. you get used to the way she says your name only when no one else is around. you don’t talk about it. it just becomes a thing — the way you show up even when you say you won’t. the way she lets you stay even when she says she shouldn’t.
some days you come alone. other times you’re with haerin or danielle, but your eyes always flick toward the counter first, as if checking if she’s there before anything else. sometimes, minji pretends she doesn’t notice. other times, she looks back.
you bring her food now — small things. coffee. tteokbokki in a shared cup. half a sandwich. she never asks, but you still wait to see if she takes the first bite. she always does.
there are days she joins you after her shift, pulling up a chair without a word, sitting next to you as you scroll through games or laugh at dumb videos. you don’t talk much. you don’t need to. her presence fills the space beside you in a way that feels unspoken but mutual — like a language you both understand without translating.
the bookstore becomes another regular stop. sometimes before the café. sometimes after. she’ll hold your bag while you crouch down to look through the bottom shelf. you’ll hold her jacket while she flips through a graphic novel. you don’t say the word “date.” but it lingers somewhere between the pages and the pauses.
on one especially warm sunday, you catch her staring across the café — not at the customers, not at the monitor — but at you. you’re tying your hair up without thinking, and she looks away too late. that’s the first time you let the silence stretch just a little longer than necessary, both of you feeling it now — the shift. something inching forward.
it happens after closing one night.
the café is almost closed.
the hum of the computers has dwindled to one or two still logged in. your booth is tucked in the far corner, monitor black, headphones looped over the hook, untouched for the past twenty minutes. you’re still here, hoodie half-zipped, arms folded on the desk as you rest your chin on them. your phone's screen is dark. there’s nothing left to check.
you’re not waiting for a game to finish or for your friends to come back. you’re waiting for her.
she’s been wiping down the keyboards in her usual slow, meticulous way. not really trying to speed things up. not trying to move you along. just going through the motions, eyes flicking toward your booth every now and then. she thinks you don’t notice.
but of course you do.
minji walks over once she’s finished the last row. pulls out the seat across from you and sits. no teasing. no glare. just the soft creak of the chair and her presence in front of you like it’s been building to this all along.
“you’ve been quiet,” she says gently.
“you’ve been busy,” you say back, half-smiling.
minji doesn’t smile, not this time. not yet. her eyes are steady on yours.
and then she says it, just like that—
“i like you.”
you blink. your breath catches for a second, not because you didn’t think it would ever happen, but because of how calmly it leaves her mouth. like she’s already gone over it in her head a dozen times. like she meant to say it today and didn’t let herself back down.
you open your mouth, but nothing comes out.
she leans forward slightly, elbows on the table, fingers loosely clasped in front of her.
“i figured it out a while ago,” she continues, quieter now. “when you stopped coming just to play. when you started lingering near the desk even if i was ignoring you. when you learned the days i was off and didn’t come at all.”
you let out a breath, equal parts sheepish and fond.
“you noticed that?”
“of course i did.” she tilts her head slightly. “i notice everything when it comes to you.”
your heart trips over itself.
she doesn’t look away.
“but i wanted to make sure. that it wasn’t just you being friendly. that i wasn’t misreading everything.”
“you weren’t,” you say quickly.
and suddenly, it’s easier to say more.
“i liked you way before i even knew what that meant for me. it started with your eye rolls. and then your playlists. and how you pretended to hate it when we were loud but never really kicked us out.”
a soft laugh escapes her lips.
“and then it was the way you looked at me when you thought no one was watching,” you continue, quieter now. “and how different that was from the version you show everyone else.”
minji’s lips part just slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. you think maybe she doesn’t have to.
you’re not touching yet — not quite — but your hands are close on the table now. close enough that your pinkies could reach if they just leaned a little. close enough that the space between you feels charged.
you exhale.
“so… what do we do now?” you ask, voice lighter than you expected.
minji glances down at your hands. then back at you.
“be my girlfriend?”
you nod rapidly, and it’s enough. the weight in your chest feels softer, like it’s finally been set down.
she doesn’t kiss you yet.
instead, she lifts her hand and reaches for your cheek — fingers feather-light, just brushing the edge of your jaw. it’s so gentle, so careful, like she’s still trying to understand how you can be real. you lean into her touch without thinking.
your eyes meet. linger.
then, slowly, you lean in — and so does she — and when your lips meet, it’s not rushed or dramatic or perfect. it’s soft and sure and entirely new. the kind of kiss that comes after months of circling, when both of you finally land in the same place.
you pull away first, just enough to breathe. her forehead rests lightly against yours.
“we’re gonna be a mess,” you whisper, smiling.
she grins against your skin. “you already are.”
you don’t expect to see her there.
it’s past 2 p.m., your first class just let out, and you’re halfway through untying your hair when someone clears their throat beside the door. you glance up, hair still tangled in your fingers — and there she is, leaning against the wall outside your classroom like she belongs there.
minji.
in her free hand is a paper bag and a large iced coffee. the drink’s got your usual order scribbled in quick black marker, name spelled wrong in the exact same way she always used to type it when you were nothing but a regular at the café.
you blink. “what are you—?”
she holds the drink out like it’s a peace offering. or a trophy.
“i was in the area.”
“you live in the opposite direction,” you deadpanned. “and you are in the morning class.”
“so?”
your classmates begin filing out behind you, a few of them glancing curiously between the two of you. minji doesn’t even flinch. if anything, her eyes soften when she sees the way you bite back a grin and take the drink anyway.
“you didn’t have to come all the way here just to—”
“i wanted to.”
again, said so simply. like she hasn’t already changed your whole life by showing up.
she doesn’t stay long. just long enough to hand you the coffee, press the paper bag into your other hand, and gently brush your wrist when you whisper thank you. there’s a smile tucked at the corner of her mouth as she leaves, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to your insides.
danielle shows up during a lull, slipping behind the front desk like she always does, stealing one of minji’s snacks without asking. minji barely looks up from the monitor—she's used to it by now—but danielle still elbows her lightly, grin too wide to mean anything good.
“you’re so whipped it’s embarrassing,” she says, already unwrapping the chocolate bar she didn’t pay for.
minji exhales through her nose. “and you’re annoying.”
“but not wrong.” danielle leans against the counter, watching her like she’s waiting for a stronger reaction. “you don’t even pretend anymore. i say y/n and you perk up like a dog hearing a treat bag.”
minji doesn’t respond, but her ears betray her. danielle catches the flush instantly.
“you brought her lunch last week.”
“she forgot hers.”
“you made her tea. during a ranked game.”
“she was cold.”
“you gave her your chair.”
“hers squeaks.”
danielle just laughs. “wow. you’ve got excuses for days.”
minji finally looks up, slow and unimpressed. “what do you want, dani.”
“nothing,” she sings, leaning her elbows onto the desk. “just checking in. seeing how long it’ll take before you actually kiss her in front of all of us.”
minji doesn't answer. she doesn’t have to. the small twitch at the corner of her mouth is enough for danielle to hoot in joy.
“so it’s that serious, huh?”
minji shrugs, but there’s no real denial in it. “she’s not just anyone.”
danielle softens then, her teasing fading just slightly into something warm. “i know,” she says, quieter now. “she really isn’t.”
and when the door opens a few minutes later—bell ringing, light catching in your hair, your gaze scanning for minji before it even settles anywhere else—danielle catches the way minji straightens in her seat, how her entire face shifts without her even realizing.
“just remember, if you mess this up, i’m taking her side.”
“you’ve already taken her side.”
“exactly.” danielle smirks, bites into the stolen chocolate, and leaves the two of you to it.
can u write bbangsaz x fem reader bsdm non-con with like mommy kink? thank uu
-💋
these newjeans ones always be so kinky bro like not my babies! 😭
content - idol!bbangsaz x 6th member!reader (idol!au), not a lot of build-up or exposition/story, smut (threesome, non-con, blackmail, shower sex, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, bdsm themes, mommy kink, degradation, corruption kink, anal fingering)
wc - 2173
a/n - why is it so hard to find bbangsaz pics lmao, anyway I've been obsessed w this for days, minji and hanni are so fucking fine in this (unrelated to fic content but I needed to share :D)
hanni and minji were really good at acting like they liked you.
you were the last addition to newjeans after them already being 5 for a few months was decided. those two were deadset on them being complete at five members, but when ador told the girls that you would be added as a last minute addition, the two oldest girls were livid. dani, haerin, and hyein didn't mind, if anything they were excited to have another unnie. but bbangsaz felt threatened by your presence.
hanni was already the best vocalist and minji was a good contender for center, but both of those titles were swooped from their hands when you joined. not only had they assigned you as main vocalist, but also center. you were ruining everything the two oldest members had built in the amount of time they were five, and they had to stop you from getting too much power.
you three had left and went home after practice ended, the three younger members staying to get some extra practice in. you headed straight towards the shower and ran the warm water, getting in and letting it cascade down your bare body, relaxing under the warmth. suddenly, you hear the shower curtain slide open, feeling a strong grip around your wrists pinning you to the wall. your eyes shoot open to see a half naked minji towering over you, a half naked hanni outside the shower, holding up the camera you guys used for vlogs, arms crossed and a mischievous grin on her face.
"wh-what the fuck are you doing?!" you ask confused, raising your voice and trying to break free of minji's grip.
"putting you in your place princess! because that's what you are right, ador's princess?" hanni taunts behind the girl in front of you.
"what are you talking about?!" you continue to try and break free, turning red as you realize that you're literally wet and exposed to the two girls.
"stop being such a brat and quit fucking squirming my god, it's annoying," minji growls, digging her nails into your wrists, making you wince in pain.
"you took everything we worked so hard to get, I think it's only fair you give us something in return," hanni's voice echoes through the bathroom.
you panic and your heart beat starts to quicken with anxiety, "please! don't do this! stop, let me go!"
"shut the fuck up and just be the whore we know you are y/n. let us do what we want or else we'll make sure that video ruins your life," minji says lowly into your ear, her tone and breath making you shiver with fear.
"you heard her y/n-ie, just be our little slut and you'll be justtt fineeee," hanni says in a mocking tone, setting up the camera on the bathroom counter, entering the shower with you and minji.
your eyes start to water with tears as minji holds your hands behind your back and sucks at your neck, hanni's hands groping your tits and rubbing her thumbs roughly against your nipples.
"please stop!" you cry, sobs slowly starting to leave your throat.
hanni shuts you up by forcefully making out with you, shoving her tongue down your throat and whimpering in your mouth. you squirm in minji's hold and try to move away from the two girls forcing you into submission, but much to no avail as their touches and mouths just become more and more greedy with every kick of your legs and flail of your body. the tears that fall from your eyes join with the warm water hitting your cheeks as hanni pinches your nipples, making you scream on her tongue.
she pulls away and you sob hard, "please! let me go! what do you want, I'll do it!"
the two girls start to laugh on both sides of you, minji's laugh on your skin creating vibrations. she sighs, "you stupid little girl, can't you see we're already doing what we want and you're helping us. if you want to help even more, stop fucking resisting."
you close your eyes and hang your head in defeat, letting the tears escape and sobs leave your mouth. hanni continues to laugh in front of you, minji leaving hickeys wherever she wanted. you watch through clouded vision as the girl in front of you gets on her knees, parting your thighs and bringing her face close to your center.
"please..." you weakly sob out desperately once more, but it leaves in a whisper left ignored.
you feel a tongue flicking at your clit making you scream out and cry harder. joining hanni's tongue were minji's fingers, sliding between your entrance and teasing your hole.
she chuckles into your ear, "are you fucking wet?"
you shake your head, denying the accusation of the question. in truth, your body was betraying you, it was so sensitive to the girls' touches and advances so of course, the pleasure started building.
"no? why are you lying to me? you're obviously enjoying this if I could just slide right in..." minji slips two long fingers into your tight cunt.
hanni's mouth sucked so perfectly at your clit, tongue flicking against it inside of her mouth, minji's fingers found the delicious spot inside of you quick, curling her digits repeatedly against it at a pleasurable pace. you absolutely hated how good the girls felt fucking you as you sobbed with your head thrown back over minji's shoulder, biting your lip to suppress moans.
your body continued to betray you, feeling your hips grind down onto hanni's sloppy tongue and fucking yourself back against minji's skilled fingers.
the girl behind you whispers into your ear, "you like this don't you? your pussy just begging to get fingered and eaten out by us. bet you've been fucking yourself to the thought of this like the little horny bitch I know you are."
moans slip from your mouth and continue to fall out at her words, the feeling of her fingers now ramming into you and hanni's tongue spelling her name on your clit being so overwhelming. you feel the mouth on your pussy smile at your loss of control over your noises.
you begin panting and your moans get louder the closer to the edge they bring you. "wanna cum you little whore? want us to fuck you till you're begging for more?"
your eyes barely make out minji looking down at you. you don't respond, instead chasing for the release they built up inside of you. but of course, they take it away just as quickly, feeling the fingers deep inside slip out and the tongue swirling your throbbing clit slurp for the last time. you whine and whimper at the loss of contact and your thighs tremble, hanni holding your hips so you don't stumble and fall over.
you hear the sound of the water being turned off before they drag your drenched body into your room, manhandling you onto all fours. you're so dazed and confused, you barely process the lacey material tying your wrists together behind your back. your body jolts and you moan out as you feel a tongue thrust deep into your pussy, head collapsing against your mattress. someone pulls your head up by your hair and you open your eyes to see hanni sprawled out in front of you, legs wide open with her bare cunt.
"go on then, stop crying and put your tongue to good use," she says before forcing your face into her pussy, muffling your moans as minji eats you out from behind.
you go to work between her folds, sliding your tongue over her clit and burying your face between her legs, whining into her core as you feel the same movements being done between your own thighs. hanni moans melodically into the air at your tongue on her, giggling here and there at the reality of the situation, watching you intently eat her out like you wanted every bit of her cum down your throat.
she taunted above you, "thirsty there? and here I thought you didn't want this, turns out you just wanted to please us huh?"
you open your blurry eyes to look up at her, a sinister smirk on her lips, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. she caresses your cheek as another tear fell down your face, your crying never having stopped, petting your head with her other hand.
"keep going y/n-ie, turns out singing isn't the only thing that mouth is good for."
she suddenly pushes your head down into her, forcing your face further into her heat, making you insert your tongue into her hole and suffocate with your nose against her clit. her moans rile you on and you flick your tongue against her walls, whimpering into her pussy while minji continues to pleasure you from behind. you feel her thumb rub against your clit with her tongue mimicking the same movements inside your cunt, slurping noises and moans filling your ears as you fuck yourself back against her mouth.
hanni ruts her hips against you, her breathing picking up and head thrown back with her mouth wide open and eyes closed. you quicken your pace of your tongue, licking against her g-spot and humming into her pussy, rubbing your nose against her clit. her grip on your hair tightens and she thrusts herself into your mouth one last time, cumming down your throat as her thighs tremble around your head. you hear her heavy pants as you slow your movements, hands caressing your head and face.
you're so close to cumming too with minji behind you, but she suddenly pulls away, making you scream in protest. hanni's gentleness disappears right away, pulling you up making you face her, your back against minji's chest.
"what? you thought you were just gonna get off so easily? there are things you have to work hard for, you know that surely."
you sob uncontrollably looking up at her weakly as you beg, "pl-please! I'm sorry! fuck, just let me cum! I've done everything you wanted! I know I've been such a bad girl, but mommy, I deserve it! please just let me cum! please please! I can't take it anymore, just fuck me..."
you ramble with tears flowing down your face. hanni's eyes are wide with amusement and minji chuckles behind you, the two of them exchanging a look. they've ruined you, bad.
hanni pushes you back roughly against minji's chest, using her front to pin you against her.
"oh y/n, you really are just our little plaything now, aren't you? I hope you know what you're so desperately begging for."
you feel her fingers slip into your pussy and pump fast, screaming out at the sudden pace. your eyes shoot open as you feel fingertips circle your asshole, collecting cum and saliva around the area before pushing in, making you let out a deafening cry. both of the paces of their fingers in you are merciless, pumping in and out of you like they're taking turns. hanni's fingers would push in when minji's fingers would come out, pushing in with a harsh thrust when the other's fingers would come out.
minji's teeth sank into your skin, leaving indent marks all over your body, hanni leaving hickeys anywhere your skin wasn't red.
"fuckkkk!!! oh my god, yes give it to me!!!" you're so fucked out, tears a constant stream down your face, eyes rolled back, drool seeping out of your mouth hanging wide open, head thrown back.
they never let up with the speed of their digits. the squelching lewd noises coming from the sheer cum leaking out of your aching hole is so loud, adding on to the girls' heavy breathing and your blood curdling cries. the pleasure burns, your holes taking so much forceful pumping, but it hurts so fucking good. your back arches, pushing your tits against hanni, to which she pinches your nipples with her free hand, adding onto the blinding delight coursing throughout your numb body.
you feel your stomach churn at the feeling of your orgasm coming in fast.
"please don't stop, I'm gonna fucking-!" you never finish your whiney sentence, cumming with a scream.
your pussy squirts juices all over everything, hanni's arm and thighs are covered, your sheets are soaked, minji's knees bathe in the drenched material of your blankets. you swear you blackout, body jerking with every aftershock of pleasure that rolls over you. you let your body fall, collapsing against hanni, her pulling away and letting you flop onto the bed.
you feel minji's fingers withdraw from you, hearing the digits slip out with a pop from your asshole. you feel them both get up from your bed, leaving your limp and lifeless body to recover by itself, not even bothering to untie you.
as your vision and consciousness fades, you hear the faint voice of one of them say, "that better teach you to stay in your place."
oh babe i totally get you! i work in a laboratory and my head is dizzy for seeing so many exams and contacting this one fucking hospital that is AWFUL... missed you tho! what's your job?
I'm crying my heart out right now, sophia is such a good person and so fucking adorable, looking at this video made me develop baby fever 😭 she's gonna be such an amazing mom if one day she gets a baby
WRITERS
please if you write something with baby daddy/momma sophia TAG ME!
