Hello all! I present to you my submission for our server's latest prompt challenge, where my task was to write a story using the time of sunset, and the added challenge of "The story must open with the end of the time duration, then rewind to the beginning and play through again".
Hope you guys like it <3
~~~
"You lasted longer than I thought you would," she says between breaths, and even now—completely fucked out, thighs still trembling—she's got that fucking pleased little smirk on her face.
You don't have the energy to respond, just managing to flip her the bird while you stare at the ceiling, pulse still racing.
There are scratches down your back that sting when you shift position, her nails having carved you up badly when you'd finally pinned her against the mattress.
The sheets are ruined—no saving them. Not with the mix of sweat, cum, and whatever's left of Yujin's makeup smeared across the fabric. She's sprawled beside you, chest still heaving, her hair a complete disaster fanned across the pillow. Her sundress is crumpled by the door, one strap torn clean off.
Yujin rolls onto her side to face you, and you can see the aftermath of everything that just happened all over her body. Her lipstick is smeared from her mouth to her jaw, dark bruises already forming on her neck and collarbones. Cum is still leaking from between her thighs, making a mess on skin that's flushed and marked with your fingerprints.
"Worth it though, right?" She traces a finger down your chest, lazy and satisfied, like she's admiring her handiwork.
"You're impossible," you finally manage.
"You love it."
She's not wrong.
~~~
Six hours earlier, you'd been stupid enough to think this would be a normal date.
Yujin had texted you that morning with a simple "pick me up at 2 <3" and you'd thought—fine, easy. Lunch, maybe walk around, watch the sunset over dinner. Standard relationship stuff. You should've known better the second you pulled up and saw what she was wearing.
The sundress is light blue, thin cotton that does absolutely nothing to hide the fact she's not wearing a bra. It hugs her waist before flowing down to mid-thigh, and when she bounces over to the car, you can see everything move in ways that make it very clear she planned this outfit specifically to fuck with you.
It's working.
"Hi baby," she says sweetly, sliding into the passenger seat and leaning over to kiss your cheek. Innocent enough, except her hand lands directly on your thigh and stays there while she buckles her seatbelt.
"You're evil," you tell her.
"I'm adorable." She grins, adjusting the dress that's already riding up her thighs. "Where are we going?"
"That café you wanted to try."
The drive is only ten minutes, but Yujin makes it feel like an hour. Her hand doesn't leave your thigh, fingers tracing lazy patterns while she chatters about her week. Every time you glance over, she's doing something designed to distract you—adjusting her hair so the dress pulls tighter across her chest, crossing and uncrossing her legs, biting her bottom lip while she looks out the window.
At the café, she orders an iced vanilla latte and immediately wraps her lips around the straw in a way that's just absolutely not necessary for drinking coffee.
You watch her take a slow sip, eyes locked on yours.
"What?" she asks, like she doesn't know exactly what she's doing.
"Nothing," you mutter, taking a drink of your own coffee and trying to focus on literally anything else.
She leans forward on her elbows, and the neckline of her dress dips low enough that you can see the curve of her tits. "You seem tense."
"I'm fine."
"Mm." She doesn't believe you, and that little smirk says she knows exactly why you're tense.
You finish your coffees and decide to walk through the nearby park since the weather's nice and you're clearly a masochist. Yujin loops her arm through yours, pressing close enough that you can feel the heat of her body through that thin dress.
"Isn't this romantic?" she says, full of fake innocence as her free hand traces up your arm.
"Very," you say flatly.
She's already sliding that hand down, lacing her fingers with yours, bringing your joined hands to rest at her hip where the dress cinches.
The park is busier than you expected—couples on blankets, families with kids, people walking dogs. Yujin doesn't seem to care. She steers you toward a quieter path lined with trees, and the second you're out of immediate sight, she stops and turns to face you.
"I want a picture," she announces, already pulling out her phone.
"You take like fifty pictures a day."
"And I'm going to take fifty-one." She steps close, arm around your waist, phone up for a selfie. You're about to smile when her ass presses back against your crotch—a deliberate roll of her hips.
You grab her waist on reflex.
The camera clicks.
Wow. That is not a graceful expression.
"Perfect," she says, grinning at the photo before tucking the phone away.
She doesn't move away from you. You don't let go of her waist. She leans her head back against your shoulder.
"You're being very well-behaved so far."
"I'm being patient."
"And how long do you think that'll last?" She turns in your arms, and suddenly you're face to face with her, close enough to kiss. Her hands slide up your chest, fingers playing with the collar of your shirt. You can smell her perfume, feel her breath against your mouth.
"Yujin—"
"What?" Those big, innocent eyes blink at you, like she's never done a thing wrong her entire life. Her thigh presses between your legs, just enough pressure to make her point. "We're just taking pictures, baby."
Someone walks past on the main path and you step back, mostly to maintain some semblance of dignity in public. Yujin just laughs, bright and delighted, before grabbing your hand and pulling you back toward the park exit.
"Come on, I want to look at the shops before dinner."
The boutique she drags you into is small, full of expensive clothes and a bored-looking attendant who barely glances up when you enter. Yujin immediately starts browsing through racks, pulling out dresses and holding them up against her body.
"What do you think of this one?" A black one that would barely cover her ass.
"It's short."
"That's not a no." She grins and drapes it over her arm, moving to the next rack. You follow behind. Her fingers trail over the different materials, hips swaying just a little more than necessary.
She disappears into the dressing room with three dresses, and you lean against the wall outside to wait. The curtain doesn't close all the way—you can see flashes of movement, the sundress pooling at her feet. Then her hand appears, crooking a finger at you.
"I need a second opinion," she calls out.
You glance at the attendant, who's fully absorbed in her phone, and slip behind the curtain.
Yujin is standing in just her panties. Holding up one of the dresses in front of her body.
Not wearing it.
The dressing room mirror shows everything—the curve of her bare tits, those panties sitting low on her hips, the cheeky smile that says she knows exactly what she’s doing.
"Well?"
"You're not even wearing it," you point out.
"I wanted to see your reaction first." She drops the dress entirely, closing the small distance between you. Her hands find your belt, fingers tracing the leather. "Are you going to do something about it?"
"There's a person right outside."
"So you'll have to be quiet." She's already popping the button on your jeans, and fuck, her hand sliding into your boxers is not helping your resolve.
You grab her wrist, stopping her before this gets completely out of hand. "Get dressed. We have dinner reservations."
The look she gives you is pure frustration, but there's need underneath it. "You're no fun."
"I'm RESPONSIBLE."
"I don't like responsible," she pouts, but she lets you pull her hand away and picks the sundress back up. You slip out before you do something stupid.
She emerges a minute later. Doesn't buy any of the clothes she tried on.
She does, however, grab your ass when you're walking out of the store.
"An Yujin."
"Hand slipped!"
The restaurant is one of those places with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water. You'd picked it specifically because Yujin mentioned wanting to watch the sunset over dinner.
Romantic as hell. Seemed like a good idea this morning.
You’re having second thoughts.
The golden light of the sunset coming through the windows catches in Yujin's hair when she sits down, makes her skin glow in a way that's entirely unfair. She's gorgeous in normal lighting, but with a sunset behind her she looks… unreal.
"This place is beautiful," she says, and she actually sounds genuine for once, looking out at the water where the sun is starting to paint the sky in shades of orange and pink.
"Yeah," you manage, trying to focus on your own menu and not the way the light is hitting her.
The waiter comes by and you both order—she gets the salmon, you get the steak, and she requests a wine she definitely can't pronounce but sounds expensive. (She knows you’re paying, after all). She's suspiciously polite, ordering without any funny business.
Then the waiter leaves and you feel her foot slide up your calf.
"Yujin."
"What?" She’s staring at the sunset like she’s never done a thing wrong in her life.
"We're in public."
"I'm just getting comfortable." She blinks at you as her foot reaches your thigh and stays there, and you become very aware of how thin her dress is, how the sunset behind her makes it… almost see-through in places…
The wine arrives and she takes a slow sip, eyes on you over the rim of the glass. When she sets it down, her hand disappears under the table, and a second later you feel her fingers on your knee, sliding up your thigh with clear intent.
"Can't you just wait for the food," you plead, grabbing her wrist under the table.
"I'm not hungry for food." She leans forward, and the neckline of her dress dips dangerously low. The sunset behind her creates this halo effect that would be romantic if she wasn't currently trying to get her hand on your cock in a public restaurant.
You don't let go of her wrist, keeping her hand firmly on your thigh and nowhere else. "Behave."
"Make me," she says, and there's that fucking smirk again.
The food arrives. You let go of her hand so the waiter can set down the plates.
Yujin thanks him sweetly. He's barely gone before her hand is back—making it all the way to your crotch before you can stop her.
She palms you through your jeans, and fuck, you're already half-hard from her teasing all day. Her fingers trace the outline of your cock while she cuts into her salmon with her other hand like nothing's happening.
"How's your food?" she asks conversationally.
"Yujin, I swear to god—"
"You should try the salmon, it's really good." She takes a bite, and her hand squeezes you just enough to make you bite back a groan.
The sun is almost touching the horizon now, the entire sky turning brilliant shades of orange and red. The light hits her face and she looks like a fucking angel.
An evil little cock-teasing angel who’s decided getting you off under the table is way more fun than eating.
"You're so hard already," she murmurs, leaning closer like she's sharing a secret. Her hand works you through the denim, and you're trying to keep your expression neutral while she's clearly enjoying watching you struggle.
"Stop," you say, but it comes out strained.
"You don't want me to stop." Her thumb finds the head of your cock through your jeans, rubbing in slow circles. "You've been wanting to fuck me since I got in your car."
She's not wrong, and you're done.
You grab her wrist, pull her hand away. Harder than necessary. "We're leaving."
"But we haven't finished—"
"Now, Yujin."
Pure triumph on her face. This is exactly what she wanted.
She doesn't argue, just grabs her purse while you flag down the waiter and hand him your card without even looking at the bill.
The sun is halfway below the horizon when you walk out, the sky on fire with color, and Yujin is practically skipping to the car.
She beats you to the passenger side, slides in with that pleased smile still on her face.
You're barely in the driver's seat. She's already leaning over the center console, hand on your thigh again.
"That was mean," she says, not sounding very sorry at all.
"You started it." You turn the key and pull out of the parking lot faster than necessary, and the sky is deepening now—brilliant orange fading to pink and purple at the edges.
"So you're admitting I won?"
"I'm admitting I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk."
The way her breath catches is supremely satisfying, but she recovers quick. "Promises, promises."
Her hand slides higher on your thigh and you grab it, pinning it in place. "You're going to make me crash."
"Then drive faster."
"You… want me to make our crash worse?"
"Just drive, idiot!"
The sunset is in your rearview mirror now, the sky ahead darker where night is already creeping in. You make it maybe two minutes before her other hand finds your belt, and you have to move your grip to catch that one too.
"Yujin."
"What? I'm just sitting here." She's absolutely not just sitting there—she's shifted in her seat so that dress is riding up her thighs, and when you glance over at a red light, you can see the lace edge of her panties.
"You're insane."
"You love it," she says again, and manages to get one hand free to palm you through your jeans. You're fully hard now, have been since the restaurant, and her touch makes you grip the steering wheel hard enough that your knuckles go white.
The light turns green. You have to let go of her to shift gears.
She takes full advantage—gets the button of your jeans open before you can stop her.
"Jesus Christ, Yujin—"
"Keep your eyes on the road, baby." Her hand slips into your boxers, fingers wrapping around your cock, and the feeling of her actually touching you after hours of teasing makes you groan.
You catch her wrist but don't pull her away, too far gone to pretend you don't want this. The sky outside is streaked with the last colors of sunset, deep purple and orange, and her hand is stroking you slowly while you're trying to drive through downtown traffic.
"Let me reiterate. You, me, a semi-truck, all meeting in less than a second if you don't get your stupidly smooth hand off my cock."
She laughs but settles back in her seat, pulling her hand away with clear reluctance. You make it three more blocks before you have to pull over at another red light, and the second the car stops you're hauling her in for a kiss.
It's messy and desperate, her mouth opening for you immediately, and your hand finds her thigh, pushing that dress up until you can feel the heat of her through those thin panties. She's soaked, and when you press against her she makes this needy sound that goes straight to your cock.
Someone honks behind you and you realize the light's green.
"Fuck," you mutter, pulling back and trying to focus on driving. Your hand stays on her thigh though, high enough that your fingers brush against the lace edge of her panties every time you shift.
The sun is gone now, just the afterglow painting the sky, and you can see your building up ahead. Yujin sees it too, and her hand goes right back to your cock, stroking you through your open jeans.
"Almost there," she purrs, and you don't know if she means the building or something else entirely.
You pull into your spot and kill the engine, and then you're both out of the car and you're crowding her against the door, kissing her hard while she fumbles with your keys. She gets the door open and you're inside, kicking it shut behind you, and her back hits the wall in the entryway.
"Now?" she asks breathlessly, and there's triumph in her voice even now.
You don't even dignify her with an answer.
The dress hits the floor before you've even moved away from the door, and Yujin's hands are already pulling at your shirt, yanking it over your head while you work your jeans down. She's in just those lace panties now, and you can see the wet spot where she's been soaked for hours.
"Took you long enough," she breathes, but you shut her up by shoving her harder against the wall and kissing her like you're trying to devour her whole.
Your hand slides between her legs, fingers pressing against the soaked lace, and she gasps into your mouth. "You've been wet all fucking day, haven't you?"
"Since the car," she admits, hips rolling against your hand. "Maybe before."
You hook your fingers in her panties and drag them down her legs, and the second they're off you're dropping to your knees. Her eyes go wide.
"Wait, I thought you were going to—oh fuck!"
Your mouth is on her pussy before she can finish the sentence. Tongue dragging through her folds.
She tastes as good as she looks.
Your hands grip her thighs, holding her against the wall while you eat her out like you're starving for it. Maybe you are, after the torture she's put you through today.
"Oh god, oh f-fuck, yes—" Her hands fist in your hair, and she's trying to grind against your face, shameless and desperate. You focus on her clit, sucking it between your lips, and her whole body jerks.
You don't. You work her with your tongue until her thighs are shaking, until she's practically sobbing, and when she cums it's with your name broken on her lips and her pussy clenching against nothing.
She's still trembling when you stand up and kiss her, letting her taste herself on your tongue. "Bedroom. Now."
"Fuck the bedroom," she pants, already reaching for your cock. "Right here."
Her hand wraps around you and strokes, and you're so fucking hard it almost hurts. But you catch her wrist, spin her around so she's facing the wall, and kick her legs apart.
"You wanted this so badly," you growl against her ear, lining yourself up. "So take it."
You push into her in one thrust and she cries out, hands splaying against the wall for balance. She's so wet and tight that you have to pause, breathing hard, trying not to cum immediately like a teenager.
"Move," she demands, pushing her hips back. "Fuck me already."
"Greedy, aren't we?"
You pull out and slam back in, and the sound she makes is perfect—broken and needy and so fucking desperate. You set a brutal pace, one hand on her hip and the other sliding up to grip her throat, not squeezing, just holding her in place while you fuck up into her.
"Yes, yes, fuck, harder—"
The angle is incredible, and you can feel her getting wetter with every thrust, slick dripping down her thighs. Your grip tightens on her hip, hard enough to leave marks, and she loves it, pushing back to meet you.
"Is this what you wanted?" you ask, voice rough. "Teasing me all day just so I'd fuck you like this?"
"Yes," she gasps. "Knew you'd—ah!—knew you'd s-snap eventually."
You pull out suddenly. She whines at the loss.
Then you're turning her around, lifting her up. Her legs wrap around your waist automatically. You push back inside her, using the wall for leverage.
"Oh fuck, so deep—" Her nails dig into your shoulders, and you can feel her pussy clenching around you, tight and perfect.
You kiss her while you fuck her, messy and hard, and she's moaning into your mouth. The angle has you hitting the spot inside that makes her gasp every time, and her tits are pressed against your chest, nipples hard.
"Gonna cum again," she warns, "don't stop, please—"
"Cum on my cock," you tell her. "Let me feel it."
She does, her whole body tensing and then releasing, pussy spasming around you in a way that almost takes you over the edge. You carry her to the couch—fuck the bedroom—and lay her down, pulling out just long enough to flip her onto her stomach.
"Ass up," you command, and she scrambles to obey, presenting herself to you.
The view is impeccable—her pussy swollen and dripping, cum already leaking out of her. You push back inside and she moans into the cushions, and this angle lets you go even deeper.
You fuck her hard, hands gripping her hips. The wet sounds of your cock driving into her pussy fill the room.
She's babbling now—words barely coherent, just broken pleas and your name and "yes" over and over.
"So fucking perfect," you groan, watching your cock disappear into her. Wet coating your shaft. Dripping down to make a mess on the couch. "Look at you, taking it so well."
"More," she gasps. "Harder, p-please, I need—"
You give her what she wants, slamming into her with enough force that she has to brace herself against the arm of the couch. Her pussy clenches around you, still sensitive from cumming twice already, and you can feel how close you are.
Your hand slides around to find her clit. She practically screams, body jerking. "Can't, too much, I can't—"
"Yes you can." Your fingers rub tight circles. "Cum with me."
She's shaking, thighs trembling, and you can feel her getting tighter. You lean over her, changing the angle, and she sobs out something that might be your name.
"Gonna fill you up," you warn, thrusts getting erratic. "Gonna cum so deep inside you."
"Please," she begs, "please, I want it, want you to—fuck!"
She cums first, pussy spasming around your cock, and that's all it takes to drag you over with her. You slam in one final time and cum hard, spilling deep inside her while she moans. You can feel it flooding her, so much that it starts leaking out around your cock even while you're still inside her.
You stay buried in her for a long moment, both of you breathing hard, before finally pulling out. Your cum immediately starts dripping down her thighs, obscene and perfect, and she's so thoroughly fucked that she just stays there, ass in the air, too wrecked to move.
"Bed," you finally manage.
She makes a sound that might be agreement. You both stumble to the bedroom, collapse onto the sheets.
You should probably stop.
You don't stop.
You're on her immediately, pinning her wrists above her head, and she gasps when you push back inside her. She's oversensitive and so fucking wet—cum from earlier mixed with how turned on she still is—and the slide is almost too easy.
"Sure you can handle one more round?" she teases, but her legs are already wrapping around your waist, pulling you deeper.
"You started this," you remind her, rolling your hips. "We finish when I say we finish."
She moans, head falling back against the pillow, and you take the opportunity to bite down on her neck, hard enough to leave another mark. Her pussy clenches around you in response, and you can feel how swollen she is, how thoroughly fucked.
You let go of her wrists, brace yourself above her.
Her hands find your back. Nails dig in immediately, dragging down your shoulder blades as you thrust into her.
The sting is perfect.
"Fuck, Yujin—"
"Harder," she demands, and her nails scrape down your back again, definitely breaking skin this time. "Give it to me harder!"
You shift the angle, driving deeper, and she cries out. The bed frame is hitting the wall with every thrust, and the sheets are getting soaked beneath her—sweat and cum and her pussy dripping everywhere.
"Look at me," you tell her, and when her eyes meet yours they're glazed and desperate. "This is what you wanted all day, isn't it? To get fucked until you can't think straight?"
"Yes," she gasps, nails carving new lines down your back. "Yes, god, don't stop—"
You don't. You fuck her hard into the mattress, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides up to wrap around her throat. Not squeezing, just holding her there while you fuck her apart.
She's babbling again, that incoherent mix of your name and "fuck" and "please," and you can feel her getting close. Her nails are brutal on your back, scratching hard enough that you know you'll be marked for days.
"Gonna cum again?" you ask, and she nods frantically.
"Can't help it, you're so deep, I can't—"
"Do it," you command. "Cum on my cock one more time."
She does, and it's like her whole body seizes up. Her nails rake down your back viciously as she screams, pussy clamping down so tight around you that it's almost painful. The sensation drags your own orgasm out of you, and you bury yourself as deep as possible, filling her up for the second time.
You can feel it mixing with the first load, so much cum that it's leaking out around your cock, soaking into the sheets beneath you. When you finally pull out, the evidence is everywhere—her thighs covered in it, the sheets stained, her pussy absolutely wrecked and dripping.
You collapse beside her, and she immediately sprawls out, chest heaving. Her makeup is completely destroyed now, smeared down her face, and her hair is a disaster. She looks thoroughly, completely fucked.
Perfect.
Your back is on fire where she scratched you, and when you shift, the sting reminds you of every mark she left.
"You lasted longer than I thought you would," she says between breaths, and even now—completely fucked out, thighs still trembling—she's got that fucking pleased little smile on her face.
You don't have the energy to respond, just managing to flip her the bird while you stare at the ceiling, pulse still racing.
~~~
Sorry for the wait! I have a big project waiting to go, and also maybe another Twice smut that should be out within the next week or two :)
I’d gotten used to the house next door being dead quiet. The previous family packed up months ago, and I never missed them for a second. The silence felt good. Still, I didn’t mind when the new owners finally showed up.
I stepped outside to greet Minseo and Jongseo when their truck rolled in. Conversation was easy enough; they were mid-forties, friendly, and I was the younger neighbor who didn’t mind saying hello. Minseo looked like a guy who spent more evenings drinking. Jongseo was the opposite — she still had the kind of figure that made you double-take. Slim waist, toned legs, soft brown hair in loose waves brushing her shoulders. She moved lightly, almost like she knew exactly how attractive she still was and didn’t try to hide it.
But it was their daughter who locked my attention the next morning.
Leeseo had just turned nineteen, and she carried that mix of fresh innocence and quiet heat that hit harder than it should’ve. Same warm brown hair as her mom, same soft eyes, but everything else had that youthful sharpness. She wore short, floaty skirts that showed long, smooth legs, and her tops always clung enough to outline her small, firm tits through the fabric. Cute face, bright expression, body that made my eyes linger without meaning to — she was the kind of pretty you notice instantly and try not to stare at too much.
Having neighbors like that didn’t feel like a problem. Watching Jongseo and Leeseo come and go was practically free entertainment. But I never planned to get tangled up with either of them — not in any real way. They were just the kind of women who slipped into the private fantasies a guy kept to himself. Realistically, I figured things would stay normal: keeping an eye on their house when they traveled, dragging their bins out if they forgot, signing for packages. Neighbor basics. Nothing more.
Everything stayed normal until about three months later.
Around 8 p.m., I was trying to finish some work I’d dragged home when the doorbell went off. I wasn’t expecting anyone. When I opened the door, Leeseo was standing there — and she looked like she’d been through hell. Her eyes were red, a little puffy, her breathing uneven like she’d either cried the whole walk over or ran straight here.
But the rest of her didn’t match that mood at all.
She was dressed like she’d been heading to a nice dinner or some upscale hangout. Her dark brown hair hung straight past her shoulders, smooth and glossy like she’d done it carefully. Her blouse was tight and cleanly fitted, the top two buttons open so her cleavage sat right in view, and a flash of white lace from her bra peeked out whenever she moved. Her skirt was one of her usual short ones — soft fabric, loose around her thighs, stopping well above her knees. Her legs were bare and smooth, and the white heels she wore pushed her posture forward just slightly, making her hips tilt in a way that was impossible not to notice.
I felt my eyes drag down her body before I even realized I was staring — her chest, her waist, the line of her thighs. She didn’t seem to notice or didn’t care. All I saw on her face was upset.
“Hey, Leeseo… what happened?” I asked, not exactly smooth. “You want to come in?”
“Yes, please,” she said fast. “I’m locked out. My parents won’t be home until later and I forgot my key.”
I stepped aside and let her in, guiding her toward the kitchen where my small dining table was buried under work papers. I scooped everything into a messy pile and shoved it onto the counter.
“Sit down. I’ll get you something to drink.”
“Thanks. I really need it. Can I have a drink?”
She looked like she was finally breathing normally again, though my body was way too aware of having her in the house — Leeseo, the girl I’d had way too many late-night thoughts about, now sitting at my kitchen table dressed like that. I turned back to the counter and started getting the coffee ready, trying to figure out what had pushed her to show up like this.
“So… how come you don’t have your key, Leeseo?”
“I wasn’t supposed to be home this early. I was at a party, and my parents were picking me up at eleven. But… I left.”
“Why’d you leave?” I asked, already pretty sure of the answer.
“Boyfriend problems. Just… yeah.” She let her voice fade like she didn’t feel like spelling it out yet.
The tone alone told me she needed someone to hear her out. And even though talking about her boyfriend ranked near the bottom of things I wanted to do, she was still my neighbor’s daughter, and she looked like she needed a place to land.
“Your coffee’s ready,” I said, handing her the mug. “Did you call your parents to tell them you came home early?”
“No. Not yet.” She wrapped her hands around the cup, soaking up the heat. Her nails were painted a loud, glossy red — impossible to miss.
“Let me call them for you. I’ll tell them you’re here and they can come back once they’re done.”
I stepped out into the hallway, pulled up Minseo’s number, and called him. I explained the situation simply — that Leeseo was locked out and waiting here — leaving out whatever personal mess she was dealing with. He sounded more relieved than concerned, his voice loose, laughter and restaurant noise spilling through the phone like he was halfway through a good dinner and a few drinks. He thanked me quickly and said they’d be back later.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Leeseo was still sitting at the table, slowly drinking her coffee. Her back faced me, and I paused without meaning to. She leaned slightly forward over the mug, her long dark-brown hair falling in smooth waves down her back, catching the warm overhead light. The line of her shoulders, the gentle curve of her waist under that fitted blouse — it hit one of those old private fantasies before I could stop it. I felt my cock tighten inside my pants and immediately forced my thoughts back under control.
“I talked to your dad,” I said, crossing the room and resting my hip against the counter. “They’ll be back a bit after eleven. I told him you’d stay here until then. That okay with you?”
She glanced over her shoulder first, then turned her body toward me fully, skirt shifting softly against her thighs. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“You mentioned boyfriend problems earlier… do you want to talk about it?” I asked, already half-hoping she’d brush it off so we could just sit quietly, maybe turn on the TV and let time pass.
She didn’t answer right away. She kept the mug close to her lips, her soft mouth lightly touching the rim as she sipped. A faint shine gathered at the corners of her eyes. When she finally looked up, her voice came out smaller, fragile.
“Can I talk to you? I just… I can’t tell my parents. It’s too embarrassing.” Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup. “You won’t tell them, right?”
Her eyes glistened, already wet, and a faint, shaky sound slipped out of her throat like she was trying to hold herself together and failing.
“Leeseo, yeah, you can talk to me,” I said gently, letting out a short, awkward breath. “I’ll listen. I’ll help if I can.” I gave a weak half-smile. “But honestly, it’s been ages since I’ve even gone on a date, so don’t expect expert advice.”
I was bracing for the usual awkward talk about crushes, feelings, and relationship drama — the kind of conversations I never knew how to handle well.
“My boyfriend… he tried touching me tonight.” Her grip on the mug tightened. “He put his hand inside my bra. He grabbed my breasts… even my nipples.” Her shoulders tensed. “But I didn’t want that. It felt wrong.”
That snapped my full attention onto her face, even as I kept my expression controlled.
“Why do you think it felt wrong?” I asked carefully.
She hesitated. Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, and she looked down instead of meeting my eyes.
“Well… I’m not a virgin,” she admitted quietly. “I had sex once. About a year ago. And it was awful.” Her fingers trembled slightly against the ceramic mug. “He was rough. He didn’t care about me at all. It just hurt the whole time. Afterward, I felt cheap… like I’d done something I hated.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t ever want a boy to treat me like that again.”
Her voice snapped mid-breath, thin and cracked. She bowed her head again, shoulders shaking harder as whatever memory she was fighting tore back through her.
I slid off the counter and crossed the kitchen, dragging out the chair across from her. I lowered myself into it slowly, trying to figure out what the hell a man was even supposed to say in a moment like this.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “Really. But sex isn’t meant to be like that. It’s supposed to feel good — warm, exciting, something you actually want. Sounds like your first time was just… bad. That doesn’t mean it’ll always be like that.”
She finally lifted her face. Tears still clung to her lashes as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her wrist. Her skin was flushed and soft from crying, the kind of warmth that made my fingers itch to reach over and touch her, even though I forced myself not to.
“But my friends say all boys are like that,” she whispered, voice small.
“That’s because they’re boys,” I said. “They don’t know shit yet. They rush, they panic, they don’t listen. With time, they learn. And when you’re with someone who actually knows what he’s doing… you’ll enjoy it too.”
“Do you know how to make it enjoyable?” she blurted out.
The question smacked me in the chest. For a second, every filthy thought I’d pushed down surged up — her legs open, her voice soft, her body twitching under my hands. I knew the look flashed across my face before I could stop it.
She must have seen it, because she rushed out, “Sorry. I’m just… scared it’ll never feel good for me. Scared I’ll always freeze up when a man touches me. I didn’t mean the question like that.”
I sat there and really looked at her. Leeseo sat across the table, shoulders still trembling, her blouse pulling tight across her chest. The silk pressed against the shape of her tits, the fabric dipping just enough to show the soft line of her cleavage whenever she shifted. My gaze kept dropping no matter how much I tried to keep my eyes on her face.
And that was the moment it clicked in my head. She was drained, emotional, lost in her own doubts — but none of that changed the fact that she was a stunning nineteen-year-old in my kitchen asking me about pleasure with tear stains still drying on her cheeks. My dick started to throb just imagining how her body would react if someone actually treated her right. I wasn’t about to let this moment slide past. I’d keep things quiet — no need for the neighbors to hear a damn thing — and honestly, getting to fuck someone this beautiful would be worth whatever risk followed.
I pushed my chair back and stood, walking around the table until I was beside her. From above, I could see straight down her blouse — her cleavage rising and falling with every shaky breath, soft skin tightening each time she sniffed.
“Boys rush,” I said, keeping my tone calm and level. “All they think about is getting a hand into a girl’s panties as fast as they can. But a man knows how to slow a girl down, how to let her body relax without forcing her into something she doesn’t want.” I let my eyes linger on her chest before meeting her gaze again. “I can show you… if you want.”
I let the question sit between us, waiting to see if Leeseo would stiffen or jerk away, but she didn’t move at all. Her head stayed lowered, both hands wrapped around her cup, staring into it like she was trying to bury whatever was going through her mind. I stepped in behind her and set my palms on her shoulders, pressing my thumbs into the tight knots hidden under her blouse.
At first there was nothing—Leeseo’s shoulders stayed rigid, her spine straight like she was braced for impact. It felt like she didn’t even know how to relax her own body. Slowly, though, a little give returned to her muscles. A faint clink came from the table as she set her cup down. I kept kneading her shoulders, leaning closer as I brushed her smooth dark-brown hair off the back of her neck. Her skin was warm and soft, and when I put my mouth there and tasted that faint sweetness on her neck, Leeseo let out a small, shaky moan. Her whole upper body dropped a little, finally letting itself rest under my hands.
I stayed close, dragging my lips along the side of her neck, letting my teeth graze her ear while my thumbs moved in steady circles. Leeseo’s breathing slowed under the rhythm of my hands, her chest rising and falling in quiet, uneven waves. When she settled into it, I let my hands drift lower, fingers brushing the curve of her bra under the thin blouse. Leeseo’s body twitched at the touch—a small tremor that ran down her torso before she could stop it.
I didn’t rush. I slid my fingers down the front of her blouse and loosened the first button, then the second. Leeseo didn’t say a word. Her hands stayed in her lap, not stopping me, not helping either. I kept unbuttoning until the silk fell open around her body, and then my hand found her bare skin again.
Her tits pushed softly against the thin white lace of her bra, and when I traced my fingers across them, I felt her nipples already hard under the fabric. Leeseo’s breathing changed instantly—faster, uneven—like she’d been waiting for someone to finally touch her there.
I turned her chair away from the table, guiding it until Leeseo sat facing me. Her gaze stayed down, unsure, still avoiding my eyes. From above, I could see the dip of her cleavage framed by the lace, her tits rising and falling with every shaky breath she took.
I bent down and wrapped my mouth around one tit, sucking through the lace, dragging my tongue over her nipple until it hardened even more under my tongue. Leeseo let out a low, broken sound the second my mouth touched her—quiet, helpless, like the tension she’d been holding in finally cracked. I kept at it, kissing her skin through the lace, licking the curve of her tit, squeezing the other one with my hand while her whole body gave little shivers in the kitchen chair.
I reached behind Leeseo and unclasped the bra, letting the cups fall until her tits were completely bare. They were perfect—smooth, warm, and firm enough to sit high even without any support. I took one into my mouth again, then switched to the other, sucking harder this time, licking circles around each nipple until her moans grew louder and her chest pushed forward on its own, like her body was begging for more before she ever said a word.
Still kissing along Leeseo’s tits, I dropped to the floor and eased myself between her legs. I nudged her thighs apart a little at a time, keeping her distracted with my mouth so her body wouldn’t tense. Leeseo’s long legs were impossible not to touch—my palms ran up the outer curves first, then drifted along the warm insides, feeling every small reaction shoot through her. She trembled, then unknowingly slid forward in the chair, her hips tilting toward me like her body had already decided what it wanted.
My hands slipped under Leeseo’s mini skirt, sliding higher along the soft heat of her inner thighs. Her skin was smooth, clean, and warm under my hands, and the closer I got, the harder my pulse hammered. She wore matching white lace panties, the same set as her bra, and I dragged a fingertip right over her pussy through the thin fabric. Leeseo jolted at the contact—her legs opened wider on instinct, her hips shifting toward my hand, already wound tight after how long I’d been teasing her tits.
I pressed my fingers against her pussy, rubbing slowly along her slit until the lace dampened under my touch. Leeseo let out a shaky, breath-catching moan and rocked her ass against the chair, trying to grind closer. I hooked a finger beneath the edge of her panties and pulled them aside, exposing her fully. Up close, her pussy was smooth and shaved, warm, tight-looking, her lips soft and pink, her entrance still closed but shining with wetness. Leeseo’s moans deepened as I slid my fingers up and down her slit, spreading her slick and feeling just how turned on she already was.
I bent lower, bringing my face close enough that the heat of her pussy rolled straight into my mouth. I took a slow breath in, letting the smell of her hit me, then lowered my lips to her. My tongue dragged over her slit and she tasted clean, warm, sweet—addictive. When I found her clit, swollen and ready, I circled it with the tip of my tongue before sucking gently. Leeseo gasped—sharp, startled—then released a long, breathy moan as her hips jerked forward into my mouth.
With my tongue locked on her clit, I brought a finger to her entrance and traced around it, barely brushing the edges. Then I pushed in, parting her lips and easing inside. First the tip, then a knuckle, then deeper until Leeseo took my entire finger. A soft, surprised whimper left her, but she didn’t pull away—she pushed down, letting me in more.
Her breathing quickened when I started rubbing inside her, dragging the pad of my finger over her g-spot in a slow, steady rhythm. Then I started moving in and out, keeping my pace even while my mouth stayed sealed around her clit. Her pussy clamped tight around my finger, gripping like she didn’t want to let go, and I eased a second finger in beside the first. Leeseo’s moans sharpened, rising in pitch as her thighs trembled around my head and her whole body shook above me.
Leeseo shifted in the chair, grinding her ass down as she pushed her pussy harder against my hand, driving my fingers deeper into her. My whole palm was slick with her cum. I could feel how close she was—the way her thighs trembled, the way her breath kept catching every time my fingertips dragged over that spot inside her. I kept my tongue locked on her clit, same steady rhythm, and pushed my fingers in deeper with every thrust.
Then her pussy snapped tight around me—so tight my fingers almost stopped mid-stroke—and the muscles inside her started pulsing hard. Leeseo let out a raw, broken cry. “Oh my God… yessss—” Her voice cracked into a scream as I kept my tongue glued to her clit, licking through every shake in her body.
Her orgasm didn’t hit once—it rolled through her in long waves. Leeseo twisted in the chair, hips jerking and forcing my fingers even deeper, like her body didn’t want to stop cumming. Only when the last pulse faded did her tension start to melt, her muscles loosening as she sagged back into the chair, breathing hard.
I slid my fingers out of her slowly, feeling the warmth and wetness leave my hand, then straightened up to look at her. Leeseo’s face was flushed all the way to her ears. Her pussy lips—tight and neat a few minutes ago—were now swollen and slightly parted, still twitching from the aftershocks. Her eyes were half-open, dazed, soft.
Leeseo dragged her gaze up to me. “I… I didn’t know it could feel like that,” she whispered, breath still uneven.
I gave her a slow grin. “That was just the beginning.”
Her eyes widened, a mix of curiosity and nervous excitement flickering through them—but she didn’t close her legs, didn’t try to hide anything. She just stayed there, open in every way.
Leeseo remained slumped in the kitchen chair, blouse hanging loose around her shoulders, her bare tits out and rising sharply with each breath. She was still riding the tail end of her climax, chest rising and falling in deep, steady pulls. Her short skirt had fallen back into place after I pulled away, so her tight, smooth pussy wasn’t visible anymore, but the smell of her arousal still hung thick in the air. The relaxed, fucked-out look on her face slowly shifted into something more focused—like she knew something else was coming and she was ready for it. My cock hardened again inside my boxers just from watching her.
I stood up and reached for her, taking both of Leeseo’s small hands in mine and guiding her to stand. Her brows pinched together under her hair, confused but not resisting. I sat down in the same chair she’d been in, and she turned to face me, still trying to read my expression.
“What… what are we doing?” Leeseo asked, her voice small, uncertain.
“Kneel,” I said, low and firm. “Your turn to help me.”
Her frown melted into a startled “oh,” her lips parting when she realized what I meant.
“I’ve never… you know… done that. With my mouth,” she mumbled, cheeks heating, flustered all over again.
“Just kneel,” I told her. “Your body will figure it out once you start.”
My cock throbbed even harder at the thought—Leeseo’s first time putting her mouth on a dick, and it would be mine.
I guided Leeseo down between my legs until she was kneeling right at my feet. Her knees pressed into the floor, her dark brown hair falling around her face as she looked up, waiting—almost asking—for me to tell her what to do next. I reached for my belt, unbuckled it, dragged my zipper down, and slid my hand inside to pull out my almost fully hard cock.
I held my dick in my fist, and Leeseo’s gaze dropped straight to it. For a second, I wondered if she was going to freeze or pull back. Instead, Leeseo’s expression shifted—shock draining out of her eyes and turning into something raw. Her stare sharpened, her lips tightened, and she slowly dragged her tongue around her mouth like she was already imagining the taste of my cock.
Leeseo reached out and wrapped her small hand around the base of my dick. Her palm was cool and soft, the contrast making heat shoot up my spine. My cock thickened in her grip as she started stroking me—tight, deliberate strokes, steady enough to show she had no idea what she was doing with her mouth yet, but her hands weren’t inexperienced. She handled me with quiet confidence, squeezing just right, thumb pressing along the underside as she moved.
When my cock was fully stiff in her fist, I tilted my chin down for her to come closer. Leeseo followed instantly, leaning forward until her blouse fell open completely. Her tits slipped free, soft and bouncing lightly as she bent down toward me. She pressed a small kiss to the tip of my cock, and the reflexive twitch made her giggle under her breath. She kissed it again—another jump. Every brush of her lips sent a sharp pulse deep into me.
“Put it in your mouth,” I told her, my voice rougher than I planned.
Leeseo answered with a tiny smile, then used her fingers to pull the foreskin back, exposing the sensitive head fully. Only then did she lean in again. This time, she opened her mouth wide and wrapped her lips around the tip, easing me into her warm, tight mouth. The second her tongue slid against the head, my hips jerked forward on instinct. She had claimed she’d never done this before, but the way she moved said otherwise—she looked like she’d been waiting her whole life to suck cock like this.
Leeseo lowered herself farther down my shaft, her red lips sliding along my cock until the tip nudged the back of her throat. She pulled back slowly, her mouth sealed tight around me until the head slipped free with a wet pop. Then she started working me in a steady rhythm—taking me deep, pulling back, taking me again—never breaking eye contact. Those dark, hungry eyes stared up at me while my cock disappeared between her lips, her spit coating me thicker each time she slid down.
She lifted one hand, reached under me, and cupped my balls, rolling them gently in her palm while her mouth kept moving. The extra pressure shot straight into my cock, and I felt the tight, climbing ache building fast.
“I’m gonna cum,” I muttered, voice low and strained, my breath already breaking from how tight Leeseo’s mouth felt wrapped around my dick.
Leeseo glanced up at me, wide-eyed, her lips shiny as she let my cock slip free for a second. She wrapped her hand around the base and asked, voice shaking, “W- what am I supposed to do?”
The sudden loss of her mouth made frustration cut straight into my tone. “Don’t stop, Leeseo. Keep stroking my cock and get your mouth back on the tip. When I cum, don’t pull away.”
Leeseo swallowed hard, hesitated only a beat, then nodded. She leaned down again and swallowed my cock deeper this time, her lips tight around the shaft as she sucked with more pressure. Her tongue pushed firmly under the head every time she bobbed forward, sending sharp, electrical pulses down into my balls. When Leeseo reached up and gave my balls a slow, careful squeeze, my whole body jerked — it shoved me right to the edge.
“Fuck—” I groaned as the first thick spurt blasted out of my cock and filled her mouth. Leeseo froze in surprise, eyes widening, but she didn’t pull back. She sealed her lips harder around me, kept stroking my shaft, and held my cock steady while I pumped more cum onto her tongue and into her throat. Every burst landed inside her small, greedy mouth because she refused to let go.
As the orgasm faded, the last drops dribbled out while my cock twitched weakly. Leeseo’s hair slipped forward, brushing my thigh while she stayed there, still holding my dick like she wasn’t ready to let it go. Then she slowly lifted her head, letting my cock slide out of her mouth — still stiff, still slick with her spit and cum.
“Mmmm…” came out of her in a low hum, her cheeks rounded with the mouthful she was holding. Without waiting for my reaction, Leeseo tilted her head back and swallowed everything, her throat working visibly as she took my cum down. “It’s… really nice,” she whispered, and then she leaned forward again to lick the last streaks clinging to the tip and down the sides of the shaft.
“You like the taste?” I asked, watching her face.
“I love it. I didn’t expect it to be this good,” Leeseo said softly — and that’s when I noticed her other hand was already under her miniskirt. Leeseo wasn’t hiding anything; her fingers were moving fast between her legs as she knelt there in front of me, my cum still warm in her mouth and her pussy soaking through her panties.
My cock stayed hard, throbbing again just from seeing Leeseo rub herself so openly. I glanced at the clock — about thirty minutes before her parents came back. Not enough for everything I wanted to do to her, but enough to show her exactly what a guy’s cock could really do to her body.
“I can tell you like it,” I said, nodding at the way Leeseo’s wrist kept moving under her skirt.
Leeseo lowered her gaze, cheeks burning red, muttering, “I’m so hot… I just want more.”
“Then let’s move on to the next lesson, Leeseo.”
I stood up and pulled her to her feet with me. Time was tight, and all I could think about was burying my thick cock inside that tight pussy she was rubbing for me. I ran my fingers through her soft hair, lifted her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes — eyes already blurred with wanting more.
My hands slid down her sides, gripping her waist firmly. “Turn around. Bend over the table.”
Leeseo responded immediately, turning toward the kitchen table and leaning forward with both palms pressed flat on the surface. It still wasn’t low enough, so I tapped her lower back, guiding her down until her elbows touched the wood. Leeseo’s hips tilted up, her ass lifting and pointing straight at me, her tight little body offering everything without needing to say a word. As I adjusted her, I noticed her blouse had come undone—her perky tits flattened against the table, her hard nipples dragging lightly across the wooden surface each time she breathed.
Her short skirt was still covering her ass, somehow making me even harder—knowing exactly what her body was about to take. I lifted the skirt and exposed Leeseo’s smooth, tight, round ass. Her panties had shifted back into place, hiding her pussy again like she wasn’t already dripping for me.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled the panties down slowly, sliding them over her hips, past her thighs, tracing the shape of her long legs until they dropped to the floor. Leeseo stepped out of them, and her pussy was right there—wet, swollen, trembling a little, her pussy lips barely parted even after she’d already cum earlier.
I stepped in close behind Leeseo, grabbed my cock, and brushed the tip over her clit and along her slit, smearing her wetness across her own entrance and over the head of my dick. Then I gripped her hips firmly, holding her skirt up with my wrist, and pushed my cock between her slick, tight pussy lips. Inch by inch, I watched Leeseo’s pussy stretch around me, her pink lips opening wider as my thickness forced its way inside.
“Nghh… I can feel it… your cock is huuuuge…” Leeseo’s voice wavered, quiet but desperate, the sound dripping out of her in breathy moans as I pushed deeper.
I laid my hand flat between Leeseo’s shoulder blades, pressing her chest into the table to keep her steady while my cock worked in and out of her hot, gripping pussy. Leeseo’s body reacted instantly—she pushed her ass back into me, rolling her hips, trying to pull more of my cock into her tightness, like she didn’t care how wide she had to stretch.
I couldn’t stop the grin that hit me. With the way Leeseo moved—how quickly she melted and took control—there was no question she’d come back wanting more. But right now, the only thing that mattered was fucking her until the need pounding in my blood finally calmed down.
“Move back and forth, Leeseo. Feel my cock inside you,” I told her. My hands tightened on her hips, guiding her motion—sliding her ass back toward me and then forward again while I kept my stance still. She caught onto the pattern almost immediately, bouncing her tight pussy along my thick, throbbing cock while I watched her lips swallow every inch I fed her.
The movement felt good—tight, hot, addictive—but it wasn’t enough to make me cum. I was about to take over again when Leeseo’s sounds shifted. At first, it was small, shaky little mews, quiet and breathless. Then her moans sharpened, growing more desperate, her hips suddenly driving back harder, forcing my cock all the way inside her before pulling away until Leeseo’s pussy clamped around just the tip, like she was trying to drag the orgasm out of herself.
I glanced at the clock—we still had time—so I slid my hand under her body and pressed two fingers to her clit, rubbing in tight circles that matched her frantic rhythm. Leeseo’s reaction was immediate. Her whole body jerked, her thighs tightening around my arm, her voice breaking as she let out a sharp, uncontrollable cry.
“Oh my god. Yes. yes. I’m gon… ngh!” Leeseo screamed, her orgasm tearing through her. Her pussy clenched violently around my cock, pulsing fast and hard while her legs shook uncontrollably.
Leeseo collapsed forward onto the table, her chest pressed to the wood, sucking in air like she’d been knocked out of herself. Her whole body went slack after her orgasm, shoulders dropping, back loose, legs barely holding anything. But I was already right on the edge, and her pussy squeezing around my cock like that had my balls tightening fast.
Still staring down at her small frame, I grabbed Leeseo’s slim waist again, my hands wrapping around her narrow hips as I watched my slick cock driving in and out of her body. From this angle, it looked obscene — her trembling body slumped over the table while my dick kept sliding into that tight, swollen hole. I pushed into her hard, sharp thrusts, forcing my cock deep into her warm, gripping pussy and filling every part of her with each hit.
I felt my shaft forcing Leeseo’s pussy open each time I slammed forward — her soft lips stretching around my thickness, clinging to every ridge of my cock, the faint wet smack echoing each time her ass met my hips. Leeseo’s waist was so narrow my fingers almost overlapped as I held her steady, forcing her to take every inch as I pushed deeper and deeper. Leeseo finally pushed herself back up onto shaky arms, bracing on the table as she tried to meet my thrusts, even though her legs kept giving out.
I looked at the back of her head — Leeseo’s soft dark hair swinging with every movement. I reached up and slid my fingers into her silky hair, gripping a handful and twisting gently before pulling her head back. That leverage let me use her entire body to pull her down onto my cock, each thrust hitting deeper as her spine arched for me.
Now I had full control. Leeseo could only take what I gave her as I buried my cock over and over into her tight pussy. The shift in control hit her immediately; her voice slipped into those small, needy noises again — the same ones she’d made right before she came. I glanced down where our bodies met. The sight was filthy: Leeseo’s pussy stretched wide around my cock, her lips pulled open far more than they ever meant to be. Her pussy was already flushed with a pink-red hue from how hard I’d been fucking her, an O-shaped ring of her stretched entrance clinging to the base of my dick every time I bottomed out.
My balls tightened, the pressure climbing fast.
“I’m gonna cum inside you, Leeseo,” I warned as I kept fucking her.
“Yes… yes—please,” Leeseo begged, her voice cracked and breathless. “I want your cum… fill me up…” She was already shaking again, her body tensing like another orgasm was about to hit her straight through.
I grunted, tightened my grip in her hair, and pulled her head back hard enough to lock her ass flush against my hips. Then I slammed my cock as deep as her body could physically take it. The moment I bottomed out, my whole body jerked as I let out a loud, raw groan, and my cock started pumping cum into her. Hot surges of cum pumped into her tiny, gripping pussy, one after another, filling her completely while I held her pinned in place.
Leeseo screamed as her own orgasm hit her at the same time, her body seizing up, her pussy clamping and milking my cock for every drop I could give her.
By the time she collapsed forward again, shaking and breathless, Leeseo let out a dreamy little whisper. “Mmm… I love how you feel inside me… your cum feels so warm…” Her small hands drifted down automatically, rubbing the soft skin of her lower belly right above her mound, right where my cock was still buried inside her, right where my cum was sitting deep.
I glanced at the clock. Her parents were due any minute now. No time left to enjoy how her pussy still held my softening cock inside her.
I pushed the last pulse of cum into her, then pulled out slowly. Thick white streaks spilled from Leeseo’s stretched, reddened pussy the second I slid free. I grabbed a towel and wiped her down, catching whatever was already leaking out.
“We need to clean up,” I said, nodding at the clock as she blinked up at me, still dazed and trying to catch her breath.
Leeseo still looked dazed, eyes unfocused like she was drifting somewhere between exhaustion and afterglow. I slid her panties back up her thighs, pulling the soft fabric tight so my cum wouldn’t drip down her legs — and maybe, to keep her first deep real creampie sitting deep in her womb a little longer. Leeseo didn’t even resist; she just let me dress her, lifting her hips weakly as I guided the panties into place. After that, I buttoned her blouse, making sure her tits weren’t still spilling out from how hard I’d been grabbing them.
Leeseo reached into her bag for a hairbrush and started running it through her tangled hair with shaky hand, while I fixed my clothes. Even then, Leeseo kept cutting glances at me — that almost-accusing, lingering sparkle in her eyes like she was still replaying how hard I fucked her, like she half-blamed me for how much cum she was carrying inside her belly even though she’d been the one begging for it.
The doorbell suddenly went off. My head snapped toward the kitchen, scanning — the streaks of our mixed cum on the chair, the drops on the floor, any sign that could gave away everything
“That’s your parents. Come,” I said, grabbing Leeseo’s hand and pulling her toward the hallway.
But right before I reached the door, Leeseo tugged back, turned around, stood on her toes, and kissed me with an open mouth, forcing her tongue sliding against mine like immediately. It caught me completely off guard — even for me, it froze me for a second.
Then Leeseo pulled away with a bright, breathless grin. “Thanks. Seriously… this was the best night ever.”
Before I could say anything, she spun around, yanked the door open, and stepped outside with perfect timing. She started talking to her parents right away, praising me, telling them how much I’d helped her tonight, how I’d been such a “gentleman,” or “a good neighbour.”
I could barely lift my eyes as they thanked me and walked off with their nineteen-year-old daughter — having no clue her tight pussy was still stuffed full of my cum. her panties doing their best to keep it from leaking down her legs in front of them.
When the door finally closed behind them, I exhaled, the rush of how close I’d come to getting caught slamming into me all at once. The nerves faded, replaced by a slow grin spreading across my face as every moment replayed itself — Leeseo’s mouth wrapped around my cock, her tight little pussy stretching for me, the way her whole body shook when she came while I was filled her.
...
After what happened the other night, the next few days blurred together. I stayed home and worked like usual, but Leeseo never showed up once. Not a shadow, not a knock on the door, nothing. All I had were these vivid, stupidly detailed dreams where I replayed every second with her — only to wake up the moment things got good. I’d open my eyes right before Leeseo’s body gave in, right before I finally felt her cum on my cock again.
By the time the weekend rolled in, Saturday morning hit the same way it always did. I got up, ate a quick breakfast, and started my usual routine. If I didn’t finish chores early, I couldn’t relax later. Even while folding laundry, my head kept drifting back to Leeseo — the dreams, her tight young body bent over my table, the way her back arched so sharply when she was offering herself, her tiny waist locking perfectly into my grip, her perky tits spilling between my fingers when I held her down. I kept remembering how Leeseo’s pussy stretched past its limit around my cock, pulling me in as far as her body could take, how her voice shook when her ass bounced back to meet every thrust, the wet slap echoing through the room. Another night where my mind built the perfect moment and then ripped me awake just right after.
I was pulling clothes out of the basket when the doorbell hit. The sound cut straight through my thoughts, and I cursed under my breath, annoyed at the interruption. Still, I walked over and opened the door.
The second the door swung open, every bit of irritation vanished.
Leeseo stood there on my doorstep — and she looked unreal. Gorgeous to the point where she somehow looked even younger, softer, dangerous. Her long dark hair caught the morning sun and framed her face perfectly. Leeseo wore a tight V-neck top that pushed her tits up just enough to demand attention, and a bright skirt that stopped halfway down her smooth, pale thighs. Her plain white sandals didn’t matter at all; that skirt alone had already short-circuited my brain.
“Hi… can I come in?” Leeseo whispered, eyes flicking toward the hallway. “I told my mom I was meeting friends, so… please, quick.”
I snapped out of staring and stepped aside, letting her slip inside. As I closed the door behind us, my heartbeat kicked up a bit. If Leeseo lied to her mother just to come here… that meant something. And whatever it meant, it felt promising.
“It’s good to see you again,” I said, moving in closer as the lock clicked into place.
Leeseo’s cute lips curled into a slow smile — and then she suddenly launched herself at me. Her arms looped around my neck, her small body pressing tight to my chest as she lifted up on her toes to kiss me. Leeseo’s soft, cherry-tinted lips pushed firmly against mine, eager for one solid heartbeat. Before I could grab her waist or pull her closer, she broke the kiss and stepped back with that same teasing smile.
“That’s my thank-you for the other night. You were a real gentleman. Best neighbor ever.”
I just stared at her, caught off guard. That’s it? Just a thank-you kiss? Looking at Leeseo — the tight top clinging to her tits, the tiny skirt hugging her hips, that body I’d already fucked once — had my cock hardening all over again. But I couldn’t read her anymore. Maybe she came to warn me not to let things go too far again… except that spark in her eyes wasn’t the look of someone setting boundaries.
“Can I have something to drink? Zero Coke, if you’ve got it?” Leeseo asked casually.
“Yeah— I’ve got some,” I managed, trying to pull myself together. “Go on inside,” I said, nodding toward the dining room. I needed a moment in the kitchen — a minute to reset, breathe, and figure out how to get Leeseo back under me on that table again… or in my bed this time.
While I poured the drinks, I forced my head to clear. If Leeseo thought I was a “gentleman,” maybe I needed to let things build again, make her want another night on her own. I didn’t want to rush and screw up my chance to fuck her again. I tried to think of some natural excuse to see her later, something casual, anything — but nothing sounded right. And the longer I stood there holding two glasses, the more obvious it felt that I was just delaying the inevitable.
Annoyed with myself, I hoped whatever she said next would give me an opening. I grabbed the glasses and walked down the hall toward the dining room.
“Here you go—here’s your—” I froze mid-sentence.
Leeseo looked even more irresistible than the first night. She was leaning back on my dining table with elbows braced behind her, smiling like she’d been waiting to be caught exactly like this. Sunlight from the patio doors framed her body, outlining every curve. Her fitted T-shirt hugged her chest so tightly it pushed her tits up, her nipples already pressed clear through the thin fabric. Her bright skirt barely covered her thighs and shifted slightly like she had just settled into position — her legs parted just enough to drag my attention between them, straight to what wasn’t covered anymore.
Then I saw the chair beside her. A tiny pair of white lace panties hung neatly over the backrest.
Leeseo tilted her head, eyes locked on mine.
“I thought you could show me again how a real man treats a girl. Will you?” Leeseo purred.
So much for taking things slow.
I crossed the room and set both glasses beside her on the table. Standing right in front of Leeseo, I slid my fingers into her soft hair and pulled her into a kiss. Her mouth opened the second mine touched hers, her tongue already pushing forward to find mine. She tasted faintly of mint, and her eyelids fluttered shut while my hands kept her steady against me.
After a long, messy minute, Leeseo pulled back just enough to look up at me. “I’m sorry… I don’t have much time today.”
I smiled, already lifting her onto the table edge. “Then we use what we’ve got. Sit.”
Leeseo settled on the edge of the table while I stepped between her knees. I traced a finger down the V of her T-shirt, following the line until my fingertip reached the warm skin at the top of her chest. I kept going, dragging down into her cleavage, brushing the soft inner curves of her breasts. My hands slid outward over her thin shirt, circling her perky tits before slowly drifting back in.
When my fingertips swept over her nipples, Leeseo let out a small moan and arched her back just enough to push her chest toward my hands. That tiny reaction alone told me exactly how easy it would be to make her cum on my cock again. Even if I didn’t get her on it today, I could give her enough that she’d come back hungry.
I leaned down and kissed her again, then dropped lower, kissing across her chest. I closed my mouth over each nipple through the fabric, sucking until I felt them harden even further under my tongue.
“Mmm…” Leeseo let out a shaky sound she didn’t mean to make, fingers gripping the table edge while I kept playing with her tits.
“Lift your skirt, Leeseo,” I murmured. She reacted instantly. I dropped to my knees in front of her.
Leeseo grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it up, revealing her smooth, pale thighs — and then her freshly shaved pussy. She barely had any hair before, but now her slit was completely bare, the skin soft and pink. I ran my hands along her long legs and pushed them apart, opening her pussy fully for me. A faint shine of wetness already glossed her lips. Leeseo’s pussy looked tight enough that the wetness was trapped between the lips, barely able to slip out.
I leaned in and blew a slow breath across her hairless slit. Leeseo’s whole body twitched at the warmth. I shifted to her left thigh and pressed a slow, lingering kiss into her soft skin. Then I worked upward inch by inch, kissing along the inside of her thigh and stopping right before the mound every single time. Leeseo let out thin, uneven breaths as I kept teasing her, and I watched her tight pussy slowly part on its own — way of her body’s begging.
I repeated that slow trail of kisses up Leeseo’s right thigh, taking my time, savoring the smooth warmth of her skin against my lips. Her moans climbed a little higher the closer I got to her pussy, and her hips lifted off the table on their own, pushing toward my face, begging me to touch the one place she wanted most. I pressed my palms to the insides of her thighs, spreading her wider and keeping her exactly where I wanted her, then leaned in and dragged one long, slow lick across her pussy lips.
“Oh—yes…” Leeseo gasped, her whole body jumping from that first touch to her pussy.
I licked her again, tracing the full shape of her lips, teasing along the tight opening but skipping the one spot that would send her straight over the edge. I circled my tongue around her clit without touching it, forcing her body to build tension until she was practically shaking for it. When her moans turned into needy little cries, I sealed my mouth over her entrance and licked around it before pushing my tongue deep inside her.
Her taste hit me immediately — young, warm, musky, sweet — and I paused with my tongue buried in her, feeling Leeseo’s pussy tighten around me. She cried out, her thighs trying to close instinctively, but my hands held her open, her slit exposed and helpless against my mouth. Knowing Leeseo couldn’t clamp shut only made me hungrier, and it made her needier. I thrust my tongue inside her again and again, fucking her with it, licking deep into the tight heat of her body.
It didn’t take long before Leeseo arched off the table and shouted, her hips jerking in rhythm with each push of my tongue. She was close — too close — and I knew exactly how to break her past that edge. I pulled my mouth from her pussy and, before she could whine or chase the contact, pressed two fingers against her tight opening. Her pussy accepted them instantly, her lips stretching tightly around both fingers as I pushed deeper, far deeper than my tongue could reach.
Leeseo let out a sharp scream. “Ahhh—nghh, that feels so—”
I looked up at her. Leeseo looked even more gorgeous like this — almost cute — her eyes crushed shut, her mouth open, her hands grabbing her own breasts through her top, squeezing and rubbing her nipples while every thrust of my fingers made her voice break into small, helpless sounds.
I kept finger-fucking her, curling my fingers inside her and rubbing her pussy walls with every push. I found the pace she needed and stayed locked in, feeling her hips rise every time I drove deeper. She started whispering under her breath — “Yes. yes. yes.” — her voice syncing with the rhythm of my hand as she climbed hard toward her orgasm.
Her clit had slipped completely out from under its tight little hood now, swollen and exposed, practically begging for the touch.
Leeseo’s voice kept climbing, every sound sharper than the one before it, and the heat pouring out of her pussy only grew the deeper my fingers drove into her. I waited for that exact moment when her whole body tightened — the mark right before she lost control — then lowered my mouth to her slit while my fingers kept pumping her tight pussy. The instant I felt her hit the edge, I slid my tongue across her swollen clit — one fast, precise lick.
That tiny touch shattered her instantly.
“Ahhh— I’m cum… nghh, yes, yes—ahhh!” Leeseo’s scream ripped out of her as her entire body locked and twisted on the table. I kept my tongue brushing her clit through the whole orgasm, even while she jerked so violently she nearly threw me off. I grabbed both sides of her small waist and held her in place, keeping her wide open while I stayed between her legs, licking her dripping pussy as she convulsed. Watching Leeseo — this unbelievably sexy girl — break apart that fast because of me sent a hard jolt straight through my body.
Eventually her breathing slowed, her legs eased open, and she collapsed flat against the dining table. I straightened, slid my fingers out of her soaked pussy, and stepped back between her still-spread thighs. The sight was insane — filthy — her tight little pussy clenching and spasming around nothing, still pulsing from the orgasm. I took her by the arms and helped her sit upright. Leeseo’s eyes were barely open, her expression dazed and soft in that post-climax haze. I held her head, kissed her gently, then lifted her off the table.
“That was…” she finally breathed out, still recovering. My dick was rock-hard in my pants, throbbing, and for a moment I wondered if there was any chance we could squeeze in a quick fuck before she had to leave — but I had no idea how little time she actually had.
Leeseo stayed pressed against me for a moment, her tits rising against my chest, her heartbeat thudding as it slowed. Her soft brown hair brushed my chin, and the feel of her warm tits flattening against me only made my cock ache harder. Every instinct screamed to pin her to the table again or drag her upstairs and fuck her properly, but I forced myself not to push it. Leeseo steadied herself, looked up, and gave me a small kiss before smiling.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Then her eyes flicked to her watch. “Shit—I have to go. Hope you’re okay with that.”
A small thud hit my chest, and my dick softened a little — no pussy this morning, then.
“It’s fine,” I said, keeping it casual, even though watching Leeseo come down from her orgasm made her look impossibly good.
She stepped out of my arms, grabbed her panties from the chair, and slid them back on. Before she walked off, she glanced over her shoulder with a teasing little smile. “I’ll make it up to you next time.”
“I’ll take that as a promise,” I told her. I knew holding back was the right move, but frustration still sat heavy in my stomach. No fuck today. My thoughts were cut short by my phone blaring on the sideboard.
I walked over to grab it while Leeseo fixed her clothes, smoothing her top and skirt back over those ridiculous curves.
“Just let yourself out,” I said as I picked up the call. “Hello—”
Leeseo blew me a kiss and slipped quietly down the hallway as I focused on the phone.
“Hi? It’s Jongseo, from next door.”
Leeseo’s mom. For one split second my stomach dropped, wondering if she somehow knew.
My brain scrambled for something normal to say. “Oh—hello.”
“I hope you don’t mind me calling. I just wanted to thank you for helping Leeseo the other night,” Jongseo said, completely unaware of the swarm of butterflies hitting my stomach.
Relief washed through me in one long exhale, though my pulse still didn’t calm. Clearly Jongseo had no idea Leeseo had been here — or that, minutes ago, her daughter had been shaking apart on my dining table with my mouth buried between her legs. Thinking about it now made it feel stupid that I’d even panicked. There was no way Jongseo could know what Leeseo had just been doing in my house this morning.
“Oh, it’s fine. I didn’t mind at all. Did she… mention anything to you about it?” I asked, trying to figure out exactly what kind of story Leeseo had fed her.
A sound behind me made me turn. Leeseo stood at the hallway entrance, watching me, mouthing something. I narrowed my eyes until I caught the question — Is that my mom? I nodded once and mouthed back for her to just go.
Then I realized I’d completely missed whatever Jongseo had been saying. Something about Leeseo being upset over her boyfriend and feeling better after talking to me. I made a vague noise into the phone, hoping it passed as agreement. Jongseo kept talking, but my attention was already drifting, because Leeseo checked her watch, shrugged, and flashed a quick, naughty smile before starting to walk back toward me.
I jerked my hand, motioning sharply for her to leave, pointing at the phone as clearly as I could. But she ignored everything, stepping toward me with that slow, sultry walk — hips rolling just slightly, palms sliding down her sides as she traced her own curves like she was deliberately modeling for me.
“Go,” I hissed under my breath, trying to push her away before she did something insane.
“…Sorry? Did you say something?” Jongseo asked, right in the middle of talking about how hard it was raising her daughter.
“Ah—sorry. Just a… fly buzzing around. It’s annoying,” I said quickly. I angled my body away from Leeseo to refocus. “Anyway, it really wasn’t a problem helping her. If you ever need anything else, I’m right next door.”
“That’s very sweet of you. It’s nice having a neighbor I can rely on. Hopefully I won’t have to trouble you too often, but it’s comforting knowing I can call you,” Jongseo said, sliding into another story about the kind of help she needed before they moved.
“What—!” The shout slipped out before I could stop myself.
Jongseo went silent on the other end — not because of anything she said, but because I suddenly felt hands clutch the front of my pants. Small, warm hands. Hands that were already squeezing my soft cock through the fabric. I snapped my eyes downward and saw Leeseo hugging me from behind, arms wrapped around my waist, her delicate fingers pressing right over my dick while I was still on the phone with her mother.
My brain short-circuited. Jongseo’s voice in my ear, Leeseo crouched in front of me — I couldn’t latch onto either one. I only realized I’d reacted out loud again when Jongseo’s muffled voice kept asking if I was alright. I whipped around toward Leeseo, pried her hands off me, and scrambled for an excuse.
“Ah—Jongseo, sorry. Another damn fly in here. Must be… multiplying or something. Ha… ha.”
The fake laugh sounded pathetic even to me. Jongseo chuckled politely and kept talking, but my eyes were glued to Leeseo. My thoughts and my body were being dragged in two different directions and I couldn’t decide which to follow. Leeseo didn’t have that problem at all. She sank onto her knees on the carpet, moving slowly, eyes locked on mine the whole time. Then she started rubbing my cock again through my pants, her touch calm, deliberate, like she had all the time in the world.
She tilted her pretty face up at me, lips parted in a soft, wicked smile, and reached for my zipper with those same careful fingers.
My heart launched into overdrive. I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do — Jongseo was still talking right into my ear.
“Did you know Minseo’s out of town again this week?” Jongseo asked casually.
I barely heard her. Leeseo slid her hand past the waistband of my boxers and wrapped her fingers around my soft cock. Then she pulled it out into the open like this was the most natural, innocent thing in the world. For one surreal moment, everything separated — like the phone call wasn’t real, and the cock she was slowly stroking wasn’t even mine. I felt her hand, the heat of her skin, the steady pressure — but it all felt dreamlike, disconnected.
“Minseo…? Oh — your husband. No, I didn’t know,” I answered, trying to sound normal even as Leeseo’s grip tightened around my cock.
Jongseo drifted into a long explanation about how her husband was always away for work, sometimes gone an entire week, weekends included.
Meanwhile, my thoughts had shrunk to nothing but Leeseo’s hands moving over my cock.
Still kneeling at my feet, Leeseo lowered her head, her long dark-brown hair falling forward like a curtain. She leaned in, closing the distance until her lips met the tip of my cock. A soft kiss landed right on the head. No more detachment or disbelief, just Leeseo on her knees, kissing my cock while her mother talked about business trips.
Leeseo straightened slightly, tucked her hair behind her ears, then wrapped one hand firmly around the base of my cock. With painfully slow care, she pulled my foreskin back from the swollen head. Then she leaned in again, opening her small mouth and sliding her lips over the engorged tip. The heat of her mouth wrapped around me, and I let out a low, involuntary breath.
With one hand gripping my cock, Leeseo began bobbing her head, her lips gliding farther down my length with every movement. My cock hardened fully in her grip, thickening until it rose stiff and heavy in her hand, and she was already struggling to take more than half of it. Now fully hard, the girth forced her lips to stretch even wide, her painted lips sealing tight around my cock. The tightness, the warmth — everything she did felt perfect. The way her cheeks holloed around the head is a sight to see. How the hell could someone look this innocent with a cock in her mouth? No way I was thinking straight.
“Well...?” Jongseo’s voice cut straight through the haze, reminding me I still had a phone pressed to my ear.
My breath shook as I scrambled to speak, my mind split between the wet heat of Leeseo’s mouth and Jongseo’s voice humming through the line. “Ah. sorry, I... missed what you said,” I stammered, my fingers tightening in Leeseo’s hair without thinking.
Jongseo’s tone shifted slightly. “Um, you okay? sounds like you’ve got something on your mind.” The line crackled, her voice slicing sharply through the background static.
Fuck. How was I supposed to answer that?
My cock throbbed in Leeseo’s mouth as she sucked harder, her tongue swirling around the head, sliding down and pulling back up with a slick, hungry rhythm. I felt her small throat working, taking my cock as deep as she could manage, bobbing beautifully up and down.
“Yeah, yeah, just—uh—thinking about something,” I lied, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.
Jongseo sighed gently. “Okay then. I was just asking if I should bring by that cake I made for you.”
Cake? Now? My pulse spiked. Leeseo’s mom was standing in her kitchen, probably buttering frosting with those same hands that had touched my skin before, and here I was, balls deep in her daughter’s mouth.
“N-no, not now,” I blurted, my hips jerking forward on instinct as Leeseo moaned with her mouth full of my cock. “Got someone coming over soon.”
“Oh? Maybe later then. Actually—Leeseo’s out all day and probably won’t be home until late, so why don’t you come over for dinner instead? It’s my own recipe, I hope you’ll like it.”
Jongseo kept talking, going on about where she found the recipe and how she tweaked it, her voice becoming background noise while my focus crashed back onto Leeseo’s mouth wrapped around my dick.
Leeseo looked up at me with those big brown eyes, her expression weirdly innocent even though her lips were stretched wide around my cock. Her dark-brown hair fell around her small, ridiculously pretty face, and seeing Leeseo like this—kneeling on the floor, sucking me off like it was the most natural thing in the world—hit harder than anything I’d dreamed. Watching my cock disappear between her lips while she stared straight up at me made me throb so hard it actually hurt, orgasm building too fast to fight.
She felt it immediately. Leeseo slid her hands up and wrapped both of her small palms around the base of my cock—her fingers barely meeting, her glossy nails bright against my skin. She pulled her mouth back until only the swollen tip rested on her tongue, then started stroking me with both hands, quick sharp pumps while her tongue worked over the head. She dragged the flat of her tongue across the underside, then circled the tip slow, cruel, hitting every spot that made my balls tighten.
My balls pulled up tight, heavy and ready to unload down her throat.
“Just cum whenever you want,” Jongseo’s voice said through the phone.
“Yeah… okay,” I exhaled without thinking— “Wait… sorry? What?”
“Come when you’re ready,” Jongseo repeated, calm as ever.
And that was it. The first shot of cum blasted straight into Leeseo’s mouth, coating her tongue. Her eyelashes fluttered shut for a second, then lifted again so she could lock eyes with me while I kept pumping more into her. Leeseo kept stroking me with both hands, her gripping it tight, and her tongue slid across the head even as I kept cumming, swallowing each pulse as it hit her tongue. My knees almost buckled—I had to grab the edge of the table with both hands just to stay upright while her lips stayed sealed around my cock.
The phone slipped from my fingers and skidded across the table. I barely caught it before it hit the floor. My orgasm finally slowed, each pulse softening. Leeseo sat back on her heels, letting my cock slide from her warm mouth. She looked up at me with a slow, naughty smile, then tipped her head back and swallowed everything, before wiping the corner of her lips with her fingertips.
I suddenly remembered the phone in my hand and lifted it back to my ear.
“Are you there?” Jongseo’s called.
“Yeah, I’m here. Dropped the phone… sorry,” I muttered, still replaying what she’d said earlier in my head.
“Well, sounds like you’re a bit tied up,” Jongseo said, her tone flipping back to casual. “So just come over when you’re free later. I’ll make dinner. Okay?”
Only then did it hit me what Jongseo had actually said earlier, and the realization punched straight through the warm haze of the afterglow. Heat crept up the back of my neck. I had literally been talking to Jongseo while her daughter was on her knees sucking my cock, and I’d emptied everything in Leeseo’s mouth with Jongseo still right there on the line.
Leeseo stood up in one smooth motion, brushed her hair back, and blew me a quick, teasing kiss. Then she headed out the door without a hint of embarrassment, like this was just another normal Tuesday afternoon, leaving me alone in the dining room with the phone still in my hand.
“Alright, Jongseo. Thanks for the invite. I’ll come by later. I should get going now. Bye.”
Her voice said something faint on the other end, but I didn’t even bother to processed it. I hung up, dropped into the nearest chair, and just sat there with my cock softening openly against my thigh, still shiny from Leeseo’s spit.
I leaned back and let out a laugh, catching my breath, realizing I’d just gotten the best blowjob of my life from Leeseo — my nineteen-year-old neighbor’s daughter — while her mother was literally on the phone the entire time. Hard to believe I pulled that off. Honestly, if this is the kind of luck I’m getting these days, I hope it doesn’t stop anytime soon.
OC x Yujin (5712 words) Commissioned fic! Thanks @jmuns-kpop for proofreading. Filthy fic with pits and feet, so if that is not your thing feel free to skip. Feel free to read my stories here as well https://fanprose.com/users/iutachi
You have never been a lucky person, and over time that turns into a lifestyle, an almost instinctive belief that things will go wrong at the worst possible moment. It is never anything dramatic, life-ruining. Just small, persistent misfortune that follows you around. Being the one asked to give up your seat on an overbooked flight. Getting splashed by a passing bus just as you think you have made it through the rain unscathed. Or having your phone die right when you need it most, like at the payment counter,leaving you standing there awkwardly as the line builds behind you.
And most unfortunately, concert tickets.
Being a fan of IVE was already competitive enough. Every comeback, every showcase, every fan meeting, it all vanishes within seconds. You tried everything. Multiple devices. Constant refreshing. But you are just never that lucky one. Then again, that is not surprising. Like everything else in your life, the opportunity always slips just out of reach.
So close, yet never close enough.
But not going is never an option.
Not when it comes to them.
Not when it comes to her.
Ahn Yujin.
So you adapt. Or maybe you just give in. Scalper prices become routine and painful to the wallet but necessary. Every event, every fan meeting, every chance to see her means another dent in your wallet, another quiet sigh when you check your balance. Still, you tell yourself it is worth it. Because seeing them up close, hearing the music live, that is something you cannot replace.
And Yujin… She makes it all feel justified.
There is something about her that keeps pulling you back. Not just her stage presence, though that alone is enough, but the way she interacts with fans. Warm and mischievous. The kind of smile that feels like it is hiding something, like she knows more than she lets on. Every time you see it, it lingers long after the event ends. But what drives you really feral for her, is how sexy she looks in sweat, after her intense performance. You lowkey wish you would be that towel that she uses to clean herself every time.
At first, you are just another face in the crowd.
One of many.
Easily forgettable.
That is what you tell yourself.
So the first time she looks at you, you brush it off immediately. Just a coincidence. The kind of thing fans like to turn into something bigger than it is.
But then it happens again.
And again.
A glance that lingers just a second longer than it should. A moment during a fan signing that feels… different. Slightly more personal, even if you cannot explain why. You tell yourself not to overthink it. People would call it delusion, and honestly, they might not be wrong.
But what is hope without a little imagination?
You hold onto that thought more than you should.
And then comes the moment of what you deem as a highlight in your life.
At one of the fan signing events, when it is finally your turn, she pauses.
Her pen hovers above the page as her eyes meet yours.
“I’ve seen you before, right?”
For a second, everything else disappears.
The noise, the crowd, the nerves,even the thought of your bank balance,it all falls silent.
Your heart nearly stops.
You nod, barely aware of yourself, and she smiles back at you.
Not the practiced, automatic smile she gives hundreds of fans, but something you want to believe is more genuine. Then she writes your name slowly, carefully, as if she intends to remember it this time.
You walk away in a daze, the signed album clutched tightly in your hands, replaying the moment over and over in your head, half-convinced it never really happened.
But it did.
Because now, every time you see her, it feels different.
Like she recognizes you.
Like somehow, against all odds and misfortune, you are no longer invisible.
Your wallet may be in ruins, and your decisions questionable at best… but your heart?
Your heart has never felt fuller.
Put simply—you are a simp.
Down bad for Yujin.
But at least you are a very happy one.
That is why the letter in your hands now feels so unreal.
You reread it five times before your hands stop shaking.
“Congratulations! You’ve been selected for a backstage meeting with Yujin.”
A raffle.
And somehow—you are that lucky one.
You have followed everything since her debut, and now, backstage With her?
That is a moment you will never forget.
==
The venue feels different the moment you cross the barriers and step deeper into the concert area.
Out front, it is loud, fans shouting their bias’ name, bodies packed tightly together in the usual sold-out chaos.
Back here, it is quiet.
A staff member leads you down a narrow hallway, your footsteps echoing softly against the walls.
“Wait here,” they say. “The encore stage should be over soon.”
Then the staff, leaving you on your own.
You look around.
The room is small—likely Yujin’s personal space. A dressing room. A rack of outfits is pushed to one side. You skim through the dresses, recognizing more than you expect—pieces she has worn before, moments you remember vividly.
It feels surreal.
Like you have stepped into a place you were never meant to see.
And then out of the corner of your eye, something catches your attention. On the table, something out of place. You notice a laced fabric, hanging loosely on the table. You told yourself to ignore it, you really should. But curiosity got the better of you and you stepped closer.
On the table lies a slightly damped black lace panties, slightly crumpled , as if they were torn off in haste. Your pulse kicks up, throbbing in your throat. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. But the thought of her wearing them, the way they’d mold to her hips, the way the dampness would cling to her, fuck, you can’t resist.
“This is where it goes wrong” you murmur to yourself quietly.
You lean forward, fingers trembling as you reach out, brushing the fabric between your thumb and forefinger. It’s soft, almost weightless, but the warmth lingers, like she just stepped out of them. Your cock twitches, pressing against the zipper of your slacks, already half-hard from the thought alone. Then you see it, the dark, glistening patch right at the crotch. Your stomach flips. That’s her. That’s the proof of her arousal, the slick evidence of how wet she gets. The musk hits you before you even bring them to your nose, sweet, tangy, and your self-control snaps.
You lift the panties to your face, inhaling deep.
god.
The scent is intoxicating, warm, thick with the salt of her sweat and the unmistakable musk of her pussy. Your cock jerks, straining painfully now, pre-cum already beading at the tip. You breathe her in again, slower this time, letting the scent fill your lungs, your head, your fucking soul. This is after all your favourite idol and experiencing her in a more intimate way made you lose your mind. The lace sticks to your lips, the dampness transferring to your skin, and you groan, low and needy, your free hand dropping to palm yourself through your pants. Just one more whiff, just one more taste, before you stop and pretend nothing happens.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Your entire body locks up.
Yujin’s voice is amused, dripping with the kind of confidence you see on stage. You yank the panties away from your face like you’ve been burned, but it’s too late. She’s already seen. Fuck, she’s standing right there, one brow arched, her lips curves into a smirk that’s equal parts predatory and delighted. She’s dressed in a black dress that hugs her curves, likely her encore outfit, the neckline dipping just enough to show her cleavage. Her bare feet, fuck, her feet, are planted on the plush rug, toes painted a dark, glossy red, the same color as her nails.
“Didn’t peg you for a panty-sniffer, after all that fan meetings” she smirks while stepping closer. The scent of her perfume wraps around you, but beneath it, you can still smell her, the real her, the one that’s soaked into the lace you’re still clutching like a lifeline. There are a lot of other concerns you should be thinking of right now, but your mind is still hazy from your arousal of Yujin’s scent.
Your face burns. “I—I wasn’t—”
“Lying to me already?” She tsks, shaking her head as she circles you, her hips swaying with every step. The dress rides up just a little higher, giving you a flash of smooth thigh. “That’s not how this works, pet. You don’t get to pretend you weren’t just huffing my used panties like a desperate little slut.”
The word slut lands like a physical blow, sending a jolt straight to your cock. You whimper, your grip tightening on the lace, and she notices. Her smirk deepens.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” She stops right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her hand lifts, fingers trailing down your cheek, then lower, over your throat, pressing just enough to make you swallow hard. “You like being called what you are. A filthy, panty-sniffing slut”
You should be ashamed. You are ashamed. But the way she’s looking at you, like she’s already decided how she’s going to use you, makes your cock throb painfully. Pre-cum leaks through the fabric of your slacks, sticky and hot.
Yujin’s gaze drops to your crotch, and she grins. “Look at you. Already leaking for me.” Her fingers leave your throat, skimming down your chest, over your stomach, before she suddenly grips your cock through your pants. You gasp, hips jerking upward, but she squeezes, her nails digging in just enough to make you whine. “Pathetic. You’re hard just from smelling me.”
“Y-Yujin—”
“Shh.” She presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. “You don’t get to talk unless I say so. Understand?”
You nod, your breath coming in short, sharp pants. Her finger drags down, tracing the shape of your lips before she pulls away, leaving them tingling.
“Good.” She steps back, just out of reach, and you ache for her touch already. “Now. Since you’re so obsessed with my scent…” She gestures to the panties still clutched in your white-knuckled grip. “Keep sniffing. And stroke that desperate little cock for me. Let me see how much of a slut you are.”
Your stomach twists, but your hand is already moving, fumbling with your belt, your zipper. The sound of the metal teeth parting is obscenely loud in the quiet room. Yujin watches, her eyes gleaming, as you free your cock. It’s flushed, leaking, the head already slick with pre-cum. You wrap your fingers around the shaft, stroking once, twice, the pleasure almost painful after being denied for so long.
“That’s it,” she murmurs. “Fuck your hand like you wish you could fuck me.”
You groan, your hips lifting off the chair that you had tumbled into after losing strength in your legs, as you stroke faster, your other hand bringing the panties back to your face. The scent hits you again, richer now, and you moan, the sound broken & needy. Yujin simply laughs at how much control she has over this situation.
“Louder,” she commands. “I want to hear how much you love my smell. How much you need it. How much you need me”
“I—I do,” you gasp, your strokes turning jerky, desperate. “Fuck, Yujin, I need—”
“Need what?” She steps forward again, her bare foot pressing against your knee, sliding upward, over your thigh. “Say it.”
“I need you,” you choke out, your face burning. “I need to breathe you in. Please—”
“Please what?” Her foot slides higher, her toes brushing against your balls, and you jolt, your cock twitching in your grip. “Use your words, pet. Beg properly.”
“Please let me taste you,” you whimper, your voice cracking. “Let me worship you. I’ll do anything—”
“Anything?” She hums, her foot retreating just as you lean into the touch. You whine, your cock throbbing in protest. “Prove it.”
Before you can process what she means, she’s lifting her foot, planting her sole against your chest and pushing. You topple back, landing on the rug with a thud, your cock still gripped in your hand, the panties pressed to your face. Yujin looms over you, her dress riding up as she hovers over your chest, her covered pussy right there, just inches from your face. The scent of her is overwhelming, sweet, musky, perfect and your cock aches.
“Lick,” she orders. You would think she was referring to her intimate part but no. Yujin shifts her weight so her foot presses down on your sternum, pinning you. “Start with my feet. Show me how much you love my scent.”
You don’t hesitate. After all, you love every part of her.
Your tongue darts out, dragging up the arch of her foot, tasting the salt of her sweat, the faintest hint of her perfume. She tastes divine, and you groan against her skin, your cock leaking onto your stomach. Yujin shivers, her toes curling, and you take it as encouragement, licking again, this time from her heel to her toes, sucking each one into your mouth, worshipping them like they’re the most sacred things you’ve ever touched.
“Good,” she breathes, her voice trembling just a little. “Just like that. Now the other one.”
You obey, switching feet, lavishing the same attention on her left, your free hand still stroking your cock in slow, desperate pulls. The panties are mashed against your face, the lace sticking to your cheek, the scent of her pussy mixing with the taste of her skin. It’s too much yet at the same time It’s not enough.
Yujin shifts again, this time lifting her dress, baring her thighs to you. The sight of her,all of her, makes your cock jerk, pre-cum dripping down your shaft. She’s glistening, her swollen lips could be seen through her panties, it seems she is equally turned on by this situation. But she doesn’t let you touch. Instead, she grabs you by collar and pulls you into her before lifting her arm, pressing her armpit to your face.
“Sniff,” she commands, her voice thick with arousal. “Tell me how much you love my naughty scent.”
You inhale deep, and fuck, she smells even stronger here, the musk of her sweat and her pussy mixing into something primal, something that makes your head spin. Your cock throbs, your balls drawing up tight.
“I—I love it,” you gasp, your voice muffled against her skin. “I need it. Please, Yujin—”
“Please what? I told you to use your words properly” She grinds her armpit against your face, her other foot pressing down on your cock, stroking it with her sole. The pleasure is agonising, the friction just enough to make you whimper. “You want to cum? You want to drown in my scent?”
“Yes!” The word tears out of you, raw and desperate. “Please, please—”
“Beg,” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear as she leans down, her armpit still smothering you. “Beg like the pathetic sniffing slave & boy toy you are.”
“I’m your slave,” you sob, your hips bucking up into the pressure of her foot. “I’m your pathetic sniffing slave. Please, let me cum. Let me worship you.”
Her foot strokes faster, her toes curling around your shaft, and you break. Your orgasm crashes over you, brutal and overwhelming, cum spurring up in thick ropes. You cry out, your body shuddering as she milks every last drop from you with her foot.
Yujin watches, her lips parted, her breath coming fast. When you finally collapse back against the rug, spent and trembling, she leans down, her lips brushing your ear.
“Good boy,” Her fingers tangle in your hair, yanking your head back. Her other hand presses the panties back to your face, smothering you. “You’re going to beg for more.”
Your cock twitches weakly against your thigh, spent but already stirring again under her words. Then she suddenly grabs your wrists, yanking them together above your head. The lace panties, - her panties - is wrenched from your face and wound tightly around your wrists into a makeshift bind. The knots though loose, are efficient enough to remind you who is in control.
“There,” Yujin, moves back, admiring her handiwork.
“Now you’re properly useless.”
Yujin stood over you with one leg on each side of your ribs, ensuring that you have a perfect view of her most intimate parts.
“Open that filthy mouth,” she commands, nudging your jaw with her foot. “I’m not done using it.”
You obey instantly, lips parting as she shifts her stance, one foot sliding up to press against your cheek. “Good slave,” You see Yujin begin hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her own panties and peeling them down her thighs with deliberate slowness. Yujin didn’t bother stepping out of them entirely. Instead she uses the panties as a makeshift cloth to mop at the mess of her feet, wiping the last traces of your cum from her arches and toes with a few efficient swipes. Even the sight of her cleaning herself with her own underwear, makes your cock jerk despite the exhaustion from your previous orgasm. You were down so bad for her. She tosses the soiled fabric aside, then turns to you, her ass hovering just above your face.
“Let’s put this filthy mouth to good use, lick,” she orders, not even bother glancing back.
“And don’t you dare stop until I say so.”
The first press of her pussy against your mouth was overwhelming. She was already wet, her folds slick and swollen, the taste of her sharp and intoxicating. You groan against her, tongue flattening to lap at her. She tastes sweet, just like how you imagine her to be. She rewards you with a slow, deliberate grind, her thighs squeezing your head as she settles her weight onto your face. The rug scratched at your back, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the way her muscles tensed when you circle her entrance, the way her breath hitches when you flicked your tongue against her clit.
“That’s it,” she gasps, her fingers tangling in your hair, yanking just hard enough to make your scalp sting. “Worship this pussy like the pathetic little cumslut you are.” She rocks forward, her ass pressing against your nose, the musky scent of her filling your senses. You didn’t hesitate, your tongue spearing into her tight hole, lapping at the sensitive skin until she shuddered. “Fuck—yes—” Her free hand dropped to her clit, rubbing in tight, frantic circles as she uses your mouth like it was nothing more than a toy designed for her pleasure.
Then her foot was back, this time wrapping around your cock. The arch of her sole slid along your shaft, her toes curling around the base, stroking you with maddening precision. You buck into the touch instinctively, but she stops, her grip tightening just enough to still you. “Uh-uh,”her voice was breathy but firm. “You don’t get to cum again until I do. Understand?” She punctuates the question by grinding down harder, her pussy flooding your mouth with fresh wetness.
You nod as best you could, muffled by her flesh on you.
“Such a good little slut for me,” “Taking my pussy on that pretty face, letting me use your cock like it’s mine…” Her toes teased your slit, gathering the bead of pre-cum there before smearing it down your length. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?”
You moan in response, the vibration making her gasp. Her thighs tremble, movements getting more frantic as she chases her own release. “Fuck, just like that—don’t stop—” Her voice breaks on a whine, her pussy clenching around your tongue as she came, her juices coating your chin, your lips, dripping down your throat. You swallow every drop, drunk on the taste of her, your cock throbbing in her foot’s grip as she continues to milk you through her orgasm.
For a long moment, she simply sat there, her chest heaving, her weight pinning you to the rug. Then she shifts, turning to face you, her knees straddling your chest as she lowers herself until her mouth reaches her throbbing cock. “You earned this,” her hand wrapping around your cock, giving it a slow, teasing stroke. “But don’t think for a second you’re getting off that easy.”
Before you could process what she means, her lips parts around the head of your cock. The wet heat of her mouth was almost too much. She takes you deep, her throat fluttering around your tip as she swallows, her tongue working the underside with expert precision. You moan, your bound wrists twisting against the lace as you fought the urge to thrust up into that perfect, suffocating warmth.
Yujin pulls off with a wet pop, her lips glistening. “Mmm, you taste desperate,” she teases, before diving back down, her mouth sealing around you again. You could feel her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing, the way her throat constricts around you when she took you to the base.
But just as the pressure in your balls becomes unbearable, she pulls away entirely, leaving you gasping. “Not yet” “You don’t get to cum until I say so.” “I’m going to ride this cock until you’re nothing but a dripping, used up mess.”
Yujin moves to straddle you, then in one smooth motion, she sinks down onto you, taking every inch. The heat of her was heavenly, tight, dripping, clenching around you like she was going to milk you dry. Her nails dig into your chest as she starts to ride you. Her hips rolling in deep , grinding circles.
“Remember pet, you don’t cum, until I’m done with you. Understand?”
Every time she bottoms you out, you would feel her hard clit drag against your pelvis, and you feel the way her pussy clenches even tighter. But she wasn’t going to let herself go so easily. Not while she still have you to torture.
Yujin reaches behind her and unclasps her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms before tossing it aside. Her breasts spilled free, heavy and swaying with each sharp snap of her hips. You watch, mesmerized, as she arches her back, lifting her arms above her head in a stretch that made her tits jut out, her nipples hard and begging for attention. But that wasn’t what she wanted from you.
“Lick,” and again you did not hesitate.
You surge upward, tongue pressing into the damp, musky hollow of her armpit. Again the scent of her floods your senses , making your cock twitch violently inside her. She moans, thighs trembling as she keeps riding you, her pace never faltering even as you lap at her like a starving man. Fuck, you’re such a dirty boy," she gasps, "You love this, don’t you? Love how I smell, love how I use you."
You continue tasting her switching to the other arm, tongue tracing the delicate lines of her underarm, and the slickness of her sweat. She tastes just like a drug, one you can never get enough of. Your cock throbs, trapped inside her tight heat and you could feel your orgasm building. But her words echo in your head, her denial preventing you from letting go fully.
Yujin must’ve sensed how close you are. She leans back, prying you away from her glistening underarms, bracing her hands on your thighs as she changes the angle, her pussy clenching around you in a way that makes your toes curl. Then, she lifts one foot and presses the sole against your cheek. You open instantly, parting your lips as she pushes her foot against your mouth again.
The taste of her skin continues to fill your mouth as you lick the arch of her foot, your tongue swirling over her toes, the ball of her sole, anywhere she presses against you. She kept fucking you through it, her hips slamming down harder now, her breath coming in shorter gasps. "That’s it," she panted, "worship me while I use this cock. You’re mine, aren’t you? Just a toy for me to ride until I’m satisfied."
Your cock was so hard it aches, your balls drawn up tight, your entire body coiling like a spring. You were so close, but you wouldn’t dare cum. Not without permission. Not when she was still using you like this, still owning you.
Then, with a broken cry, Yujin’s body locks up. Her pussy clenches around you like a vise, her thighs shaking as she comes, her release soaking your cock in hot, pulsing waves. "Fuck—! Oh god, yes—"* Her voice was raw, her nails raking on your thighs as she rode out her orgasm, her foot still pressing against your face, smothering you in her scent.
Yujin sat there post orgasm, her chest heaving, her pussy fluttering around you like she was milking the last drops of pleasure from her climax. Then, with a slow, satisfied exhale, she finally pulled her foot away from your mouth and lean forward, bracing her hands on your chest as she looked down at you.
"Wow," "Even you can make me cum." She smirks, rolling her hips once, twice, just to watch you whimper. "Pathetic, really. But I suppose you’ve earned something."
Yujin lifts herself off you, her pussy making an obscene, wet sound as your cock slips free. You groan at the loss of her heat, your cock throbbing painfully. Yujin didn’t give you time to beg. She shifts forward, straddling your hips, her ass pressing against your cock as she reaches between her legs and wraps her fingers around you.
"Cum for me," "All over me."
That was all it took. The image of you painting her was sufficient.
Your orgasm hit you hard, your cock jerking violently in her grip as thick ropes of cum shot out, splattering across her stomach, her breasts, her collarbone. She gasps as the first hot streak paints her skin, her fingers tightening around you as she milks every last drop. "Look at you," "Such a naughty boy, covering me in your mess."
You collapse back against the rug, your chest heaving, your cock still twitching weakly as the last of your release dripped onto your stomach. Yujin leans down, her cum-slicked body pressing against yours as she captures your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, her tongue sweeping in to claim you all over again.
“Good toy, you did so well for me”
“I was right about my judgement you really are such an easy bait.”
Despite your exhaustion, the statement cuts through the fog in your head, leaving you confused.
“Bait?” you manage. “What do you mean?”
“You really thought I left those panties there by accident?” She tilts her head. “I know you’re too weak to resist. Such a predictable little pet. From all the fan meetings, I can tell… you’re down bad. The type who would do anything just to get closer to me.”
The words hit like a slap.
Your muscles tense instantly, clearing whatever haze you have in your head
Predictable. Weak. Bait.
She had played you.
Everything you have believed that meant something—her smiles, the way she looks at you, the small moments you cling to—none of it is real. It is all part of her plan. Just a way to toy with you.
To her, you are never special.
Just easy.
Memories of your unlucky life flash through your mind, one after another, like a pattern you can no longer ignore. And now it clicks.
This isn’t luck.
You don’t win anything, not even this raffle and backstage experience.
She had manipulated the outcome.
Something coiled within your gut.
Before she could react, you surge upward, grabbing her wrists and twisting. Yujin yelps as you flip her onto her back, her legs splaying open as you pin her down. Her eyes widening in shock, like she hasn't expected you to fight back. Good. Let her be surprised.
"Oh, so the little bitch has teeth?" She smirks even as you press her arms above her head. "Took you long enough.”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you reach for the damp black lace near you, her panties, the ones she’d used to bind you just hours ago. The elastic still stretched from when she’d wrapped it around your wrists. Now it was her turn.
Yujin’s breath hitches as you loop the pace around her wrists, pulling tight. “Wait–”
“Shut the fuck up” You knotted the panties, yanking it hard to keep her restrain.
She tested the bind, tugging experimentally. “Not bad,” “But you’re still not —-mmmph!”
You cut her off by shoving the other pair of panties, the one who was wearing previously , still damp from her own arousal into her mouth. Her eyes flare in protest, but you didn't give her time to spit them out. Instead you clamp down on her mouth, forcing her to keep them. “Shut up brat, you talk way too fucking much.”
Yujin’s muffled noise vibrates against your palm. She glares, but there was something else there—something more needy. She likes this.
Fine. You’d give her exactly what she wanted.
You didn’t bother with any more foreplay. Your cock was already stirring back to life as you line yourself up against her. Yujn’s thighs tremble as you drag the head through her folds, her pussy still slick from her own climax. She was dripping, her body betraying her even as she tries to look defiant.
"You’re already wet for me," pressing just the tip inside. "Such a slut for being used."
Her hips jerks, trying to take more, but you pull back. Yujin whines around the gag, her bound wrists twisting against the lace. You smack her thigh hard.
"Did I say you could move?"
She shakes her head, but her eyes burn with challenge. Fuck me harder, they said. I dare you.
Oh, you’d take that dare.
You slam into her in one brutal thrust. Yujin’s back arches off the rug, a choked scream tearing from her throat as you bottom her out. Her pussy clenches around you, tight like she’d been waiting for this the whole time. You didn’t give her a second to adjust. Pulling out almost all the way, you drove back in, your hips snapping against hers with enough force to bruise.
You grab her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as you set a punishing rhythm. The rug burns against your knees, the friction rough, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was the way her body took you, the way her breath hitches every time you hit that spot deep inside her.
"You like that?" you lean down to bite her nipple. She cries out, her back arching. "You like being fucked like the little slut you are, baiting me like I’m you toy?"
Yujin’s answer was a garbled noise, but her pussy flutters around your cock, her thighs shaking. You smacked her ass watching the way her skin pinked under your hand.
Then an idea pops in your head… You wanted her to see it.
With a growl, you haul her up by her bound wrists and turn her around, dragging her toward the full-length mirror propped against the wall. Yujin stumbles, her legs unsteady, but you didn’t let her fall. Instead, you bent her over, pressing her chest against the cool glass. Her reflection stares back.
"Look," you commanded, gripping her hip with one hand while the other tangled in her hair, yanking her head up. "Look at how fucking slutty you are."
Yujin’s breath fogs the mirror as you thrust back into her. Her bound hands scraped against the glass, her fingers splaying as she tried to find a balance. You didn’t let up. Each snap of your hips drove her forward, her tits smashing against the mirror.
"You love this," watching her reflection. "You love being used like a fucking toy. I bet this is all part of your plan too, right?"
Her eyes lock onto yours in the glass, with the same mischievous eyes. Indeed this is all within her plans. You were physically in control, but playing very well into the hands of Yujin. But now , none of that matters. You continue thrusting into Yujin and seeing her pussy clench every time you bottom her out , you knew she was close.
You reach around, finding her clit with your fingers. "Cum for me," you ordered, rubbing in tight, punishing circles. "Cum like the good little whore you are."
Yujin’s muffled scream shattered the air as her orgasm hit. Her pussy pulses around your cock, her body shuddering violently as you kept fucking her through it. The mirror fogs with her ragged breaths, her reflection a mess of flushed skin.
And then you were cumming, burying yourself to the hilt as you paint her walls with thick, hot spurts. Yujin’s body clenches around you, milking every last drop as her own climax starts to fade.
You stay like that, both of you breathing hard, your body still twitching inside hers. Then, slowly, you pull out, watching as your cum drips down her thighs.
Yujin leans against the glass, her reflection a ruin. She looked used. Perfect.
You reached up, untangling the panties from her wrists. Her arms dropped limply to her sides as she spits out the gag. Before you collapse to the floor, totally spent.
“You are the perfect little pet” As you come to your senses, you see Yujin, starts to dress up and clean herself. “You can keep this, your reward for being a good pet“ she tosses the panties towards you. It seems rage baiting you was part of her plan to make you fuck her hard too.
“I will contact you again, to be another “Lucky” raffle winner” I guess your life is still the same, you were never truly lucky but at least today you become an Ahnlucky pervert.
"Did you spill coffee on the sales report again?" Leeseo sighed, plucking a damp sheet of paper from the desk with two perfectly manicured fingers. The ink had bled into a Rorschach blot of numbers and customer names.
You groaned, swiping the ruined page from her hand. "It was an accident. The lid wasn’t on right."
Leeseo’s lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. She had that way of making even minor disasters feel trivial, like a spilled coffee was just another Tuesday. Her perfume today was subtle—something floral with a hint of citrus—unlike the heavier, muskier scents the lab kept cooking up.
The intercom buzzed. "Manager to the perfumer’s office," came the staticky voice of the receptionist. You glanced at Leeseo, who was already straightening the clutter on your desk with efficient flicks of her wrist. "Better not keep them waiting," she said.
The perfumer’s office smelled like a botanical garden had exploded. Vials and bottles lined the shelves, each labeled in messy, hurried script. The perfumer—a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair—leaned over a small glass bottle, his magnifying goggles making his eyes comically large. "Ah, good. Sit."
You perched on the edge of the chair, eyeing the bottle. "New prototype?"
He grinned, holding it up to the light. The liquid inside shimmered gold. "Oh, it’s more than that. This one’s *special*."
"Special how?" you asked, leaning closer. The liquid swirled as the perfumer uncorked the bottle—just a fraction—letting a scent drift into the air. It was dizzying, like ripe peaches dipped in honey and something darker underneath, a pulse of heat that made your throat tighten involuntarily.
The perfumer's grin widened, his goggles catching the overhead light. "We call it *Euphoria*. Clinical trials suggest it’s... potent. Triggers an, ah, *acute physiological response* in the olfactory system." He wiggled his eyebrows. "You know. Libido. Through the roof."
You blinked. "You’re joking."
"Wish I was," he chuckled, setting the bottle down with exaggerated care. "First test group? Two secretaries started making out in the break room. HR had to separate them with a fire extinguisher." He rubbed his temple. "We toned down the concentration after that. Still, needs field testing before we pitch it to investors. Discreetly, of course."
Your fingers twitched toward the bottle, then stopped. "So you want me to—what? Walk around the office spraying this like air freshener?"
"Oh god, no," he said, horrified. "That’d be a lawsuit waiting to happen. No, we need *one* test subject. Someone... receptive." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Someone *pretty*. You know who I mean."
Your stomach dropped. "Leeseo."
"Leeseo has a boyfriend," you said flatly, fingers gripping the edge of the perfumer's desk. The gold liquid in the bottle seemed to glow mockingly under the lab lights.
The perfumer waved a hand, goggles sliding down his nose. "So? When she's *horny*, she won't care. That's the *point*." He leaned in, breath smelling like mint and something chemically sharp. "Just use her. Make her say she liked it. Afterward, we’ll handle the rest. This isn’t for the masses—only special clients. The kind who *don’t* go to jail." His grin was all teeth. "Neither will you."
The bottle felt unnaturally warm in your pocket as you climbed the stairs to the rooftop. You'd dabbed just a drop—*just a drop*—on your wrist before leaving the perfumer's office, and already your pulse was thrumming like you'd chugged three espressos. The scent clung to you, a whisper of peaches and honey with something darker underneath, something that made your skin prickle with awareness.
The rooftop was deserted, bathed in late afternoon sunlight that turned the concrete golden. You leaned against the railing, staring down at the city below, trying to steady your breathing. This was insane. *This was completely insane.*
Your phone buzzed. Leeseo's name flashed on the screen.
"Hey," you said, forcing your voice into something resembling casual. "Can you come up to the rooftop? There's something I want to talk about."
A pause. Then, in that same measured tone she used when she corrected your expense reports: "Right now?"
"Yeah. It's—" You swallowed. "It's important."
Another pause. "Okay. Be there in five."
The line went dead. You exhaled, rubbing your wrist where you'd dabbed the perfume. The scent was stronger now—cloying, intoxicating—and your pulse was hammering in your throat. *What the hell am I doing?*
The rooftop door creaked open behind you. Leeseo stepped out, her heels clicking against the concrete. She'd pulled her hair into a loose ponytail, strands escaping around her face in the breeze. Her blouse was wrinkled at the sleeves—she must have been in the middle of something when you called.
"You ruined the sales report," she said by way of greeting, crossing her arms. "Again."
You forced a laugh. "Yeah. Sorry."
Leeseo tilted her head, studying you. Her nose wrinkled slightly—*she could smell it.* "Are you... wearing cologne?"
The breeze carried the scent between you—peaches, honey, something darker. Her pupils dilated, just for a second. You saw the exact moment it hit her: the flutter of her pulse in her throat, the way her fingers twitched against her sleeves.
"You wanted to talk?" she asked, but her voice was thicker now.
"Yeah." You stepped closer. Too close. The perfume was a live wire between you, sparking in the air. "About—"
*About what? About how you were supposed to test a chemical weapon disguised as perfume on her? About how the perfumer had grinned like a mad scientist when he handed you the bottle?*
The words died in your throat as Leeseo's fingers brushed against her collarbone—a nervous habit she only had during investor meetings or when her boyfriend texted during work hours. Except her phone wasn’t out. And this wasn’t a meeting.
"You were saying?" she prompted, but her gaze had dropped to your mouth. The rooftop breeze toyed with the hem of her skirt, and she didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care.
"Right." You cleared your throat, scrambling for small talk. "The, uh. The weather’s nice."
Leeseo blinked slowly, like she was processing a foreign language. "It’s 32 degrees," she said. A strand of hair stuck to her neck, damp with sweat. "You dragged me up here to talk about *heatstroke*?"
You grinned despite yourself. "You’re the one wearing a blazer in July."
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons—once, twice—before giving up entirely. "I was in a meeting," she muttered, but the protest sounded distant, like she was arguing out of habit rather than conviction. The perfume hung between you, thickening the air.
She took a half-step closer, and you caught the way her breath hitched when the scent curled around her. "Actually," she said abruptly, "I think the AC’s broken in the west wing. The vents keep—" Her hand twitched toward her throat again, then froze mid-motion. She was staring at your wrist where you’d dabbed the perfume, her lips slightly parted.
"Vents?" you prompted.
She blinked rapidly. "Vents. Yes. They’re... humming." Her fingers flexed at her sides, restless. "It’s distracting."
You resisted the urge to glance at your watch. How long had it been? Five minutes? The perfumer hadn’t given you a timeline—just a smug assurance that you’d *know* when it worked.
Leeseo tugged at her collar. "Did you—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "Never mind."
"No, what?"
Her gaze darted away, then back to you, lingering on your mouth again. "Did you change your shampoo or something?" Her voice was deliberately casual, but her fingers were knotting the fabric of her skirt.
"Same old drugstore stuff," you lied. The breeze carried the scent again, and Leeseo inhaled sharply, as if she couldn’t help herself.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her heels scraping against the concrete. "We should probably go back inside," she said.
Your hand shot out before you could think, fingers curling around Leeseo's wrist just as she turned to leave. She barely had time to gasp before you pulled her flush against you, your mouth crashing into hers with a desperation that surprised even you. For one dizzying second, she melted—her lips parting instinctively, a soft noise catching in her throat as her body arched into the contact. The taste of her lip gloss, something faintly sweet, mixed with the heated rush of the perfume clinging to your skin.
Then reality snapped back. Leeseo jerked away, palms slamming against your chest. "What the hell—I have a *boyfriend*," she hissed, but her voice wavered, her breath coming in shallow bursts. The protest sounded thin, half-hearted, like she was reciting a line she no longer believed. Her pupils were blown wide, her cheeks flushed a deep pink under the afternoon sun.
You didn’t answer. Instead, your fingers skimmed up the inside of her thigh, sliding beneath the hem of her skirt. The fabric was damp under your touch, and Leeseo made a strangled noise when your fingertips brushed against the lace of her panties—soaking through already. "You’re *dripping*," you murmured against her ear, feeling her shudder at the words.
She sucked in a sharp breath, her nails digging into your shoulders—not pushing you away, not pulling you closer. Just *holding on*. "This isn’t—" Her hips twitched involuntarily as your thumb pressed against her through the lace, and she bit down on her lower lip hard enough to blanch it. "We *can’t*."
But her thighs trembled when you traced the outline of her, the heat of her radiating through the flimsy barrier. The perfume was a living thing between you, coiling around her senses, muddying every thought that wasn’t *touch, more, now.*
"Nobody has to know," you murmured, lips grazing the shell of her ear as your fingers worked slow circles through the damp lace. Leeseo's breath hitched—sharp, stuttering—her body betraying her even as she shook her head. "He doesn't check your emails. Doesn't visit the office." You nipped at her jawline, relishing the way her pulse jumped under your tongue. "What happens on the rooftop stays on the rooftop."
Leeseo’s lips crashed into yours with a desperation that bordered on violence, her teeth catching your lower lip hard enough to sting. "Just this once," she gasped against your mouth, her words more plea than warning, her body already arching into your touch. Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t bear the centimeter of space between you. The perfume was a wildfire in her veins—her skin fever-hot under your palms, her breath ragged and sweet with the ghost of her morning coffee.
Your fingers slid beneath the soaked lace of her panties, finding her already swollen, already *ruined* for anyone else. She gasped when you curled two fingers inside her, her hips jerking forward as if she couldn’t help but fuck herself onto your hand. "Oh my *god*," she choked out, her forehead dropping to your shoulder as you stroked her in slow, deliberate circles. Her thighs trembled against yours, her slick coating your fingers in a way that made your own pulse thunder in response.
"You’re making a mess," you murmured, nipping at her earlobe just to feel her shudder. The evidence of her arousal dripped down your wrist, slick and shameless, and Leeseo let out a whimper that was half protest, half surrender. Her nails dug into the back of your neck, anchoring herself as you worked her open with relentless precision. "Look at you," you breathed, pulling back just enough to watch her face twist with pleasure. "Dripping down your thighs like you’ve been waiting for this."
Leeseo’s breath hitched as your fingers moved faster, the wet sound of her arousal almost obscene in the quiet rooftop air. "Keep going," she gasped, her hips rolling in desperate little circles against your hand. "Make me wet more." Her voice was raw, stripped of its usual precision, and you couldn't help the smirk that curled your lips—*Euphoria* was working better than you'd dared to hope.
Her fingers fumbled at your belt, nails scraping against the buckle in her haste. You barely had time to register the click of leather before her palm was pressing against the straining fabric of your pants, warm and impatient. "Fuck," she muttered, more to herself than to you, as she finally freed your cock, her grip tight and sure despite the tremble in her wrists.
Leeseo's breath stuttered into a high, keening whine as your fingers curled deeper inside her, the heel of your palm grinding against her clit in relentless circles. "Stop it—*stop it*," she gasped, her voice cracking on the words, her nails raking down your back like she was trying to claw her way out of her own skin. "It's *coming*—" Her body locked up, thighs clamping around your wrist as a shudder ripped through her. Then, with a choked sob, she came apart—her hips jerking wildly, her cunt pulsing around your fingers as she squirted, hot and slick, all over your wrist and the rooftop concrete beneath you.
The force of it sent her stumbling back against the railing, her legs giving out as she slid down in a graceless heap, her skirt rucked up around her waist. Her chest heaved, her blouse sticking to her sweat-slicked skin, her gaze unfocused and dazed. For a long moment, the only sound was her ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city below. Then, slowly, her fingers crept up to her mouth, pressing against her parted lips as if to stifle the aftershocks still trembling through her.
You knelt beside her, your damp fingers catching the sunlight, the scent of her arousal mingling with the perfume still clinging to your skin. Leeseo's eyes flicked down to your hand, then up to your face, her cheeks flushing an even deeper red. "I—" Her voice was hoarse, wrecked. She swallowed hard, her throat working. "That's never happened before."
The confession hung between you, fragile and electric. You reached out, tucking a sweat-damp strand of hair behind her ear, your thumb brushing the shell of it just to feel her shiver. "Good," you murmured, leaning in until your lips nearly grazed hers. "Now imagine what else you've never done."
You hooked your hands under Leeseo’s arms, hauling her upright against the railing before she could catch her breath. Her knees wobbled—still weak from the aftershocks—but the moment your chest pressed against her back, her body arched instinctively, presenting herself like she’d been waiting for this all along. The rooftop breeze ruffled her skirt higher, exposing the ruined lace clinging to her thighs, and you didn’t bother peeling it away before nudging your cock against her soaked entrance.
Leeseo gasped, her fingers scrabbling at the railing as you pushed in—*slow*, torturously slow, letting her feel every inch. Her head dropped forward, a whimper escaping her throat when you bottomed out, her walls fluttering around you like she was trying to pull you deeper. "F-fuck," she slurred, her voice thick, her hips twitching back against you involuntarily.
You gripped her waist, holding her still as you pulled out almost entirely, just the tip catching at her stretched rim. Leeseo made a noise like she’d been punched, her thighs shaking. "Don’t—" she started, but the protest dissolved into a moan when you slammed back in, the force of it knocking her forward until her cheek pressed against the sun-warmed metal railing. Her cunt was obscenely wet, the sound of your thrusts filthy in the open air, and you could feel the exact moment she gave up pretending—her body going pliant, her moans unfiltered and wanton.
"How does it feel?" you growled, snapping your hips forward hard enough to make Leeseo's palms squeak against the metal railing. Her breath came in punched-out little gasps, her spine arching as you bottomed out inside her. When she didn’t answer immediately, you brought your hand down on her ass with a sharp *crack*—the sound echoing across the rooftop. "I asked you a question."
Leeseo jerked, a high whine tearing from her throat. "I—*fuck*—it feels—" Her words dissolved into a moan as you angled deeper, your cock dragging against that spot that made her toes curl in her discarded heels. "Too much," she finally choked out, her knuckles white where they gripped the railing. "It’s too—*ohgod*—"
You smirked, slowing your thrusts to an agonizing crawl just to feel her clench around you. "Too much?" Your fingers dug into the reddening mark on her ass. "Or not enough?" Another sharp spank—this time with your other hand fisting in her ponytail, yanking her head back so you could watch her face twist. "Answer properly."
Her mouth opened, then shut, her eyelashes fluttering like she was trying to remember how words worked. "N-not enough," she managed, her voice wrecked. "Please—" The plea turned into a yelp when you snapped your hips again, the force of it driving her forward until the railing bit into her ribs.
"Please what?" You nipped at the sweat-damp skin of her shoulder, relishing the way she shuddered. "Use your words, sweetheart. Did your boyfriend ever make you beg like this?"
Leeseo’s breath hitched—a broken little sound—as you thumbed her clit in rough circles, matching the rhythm of your thrusts. "N-no," she gasped, her thighs trembling. "He doesn’t—*ah*—doesn’t fuck me like—"
"Like what?" You punctuated the question with a brutal snap of your hips, laughing when she sobbed. "Like you *need* it?" Her cunt squeezed you tight, as if agreeing, and you groaned at the sensation. "Christ, you’re *dripping*. Bet he’s never made you come this hard either, huh?"
Her silence earned her another spank, harder this time, the echo mingling with the wet slap of skin on skin. "*Answer*."
"*No*," she whined, arching back into your touch like she couldn’t help herself. Her ponytail had come undone, dark hair sticking to her flushed neck. "I—I didn’t even *squirt* before—*oh god*—" Her words dissolved into a moan as you crooked your fingers just right, her body bowing like a plucked string.
You nipped at her earlobe, grinning at the way she shuddered. "Knew it. Bet he just *pumps* into you like a dead fish." You slowed your thrusts to a maddening grind, relishing the way her walls fluttered around you, desperate. "Doesn’t even *try* to ruin you properly."
Leeseo’s fingers scrabbled against the railing, her nails leaving faint crescent marks in the metal. "S-stop—" she choked out, but her hips rolled back against yours, greedy.
"Stop?" You laughed, landing another stinging slap to her ass. "Your cunt’s sucking me in like you’re *starving*. You want me to stop?" You pulled out entirely—just to hear her whimper—then slammed back in, the force of it knocking a scream from her throat. "Didn’t think so."
Her body bowed under yours, her back arching as you snapped your hips faster. "Tell me," you growled, fingers tightening in her hair. "How many times did he make you come?"
Leeseo’s breath hitched, her words slurred with pleasure. "O-once—maybe—*ah!*"
You spanked her hard enough to leave a red handprint, your cock driving deeper as she yelped. "*Maybe*? Fuck, no wonder you’re this *desperate*." Her thighs trembled when you thumbed her clit, the rough circles sending shocks up her spine. "I’ll make you come till you *forget* his name."
She sobbed when you hit that spot inside her—once, twice—her vision whiting out as her orgasm ripped through her. You didn’t let up, fucking her through it, her cunt fluttering around you like a heartbeat. "Look at that," you murmured, dragging her back against your chest so she could see the mess she’d made—her slick coating your thighs, dripping onto the concrete below. "Bet he’s never *seen* you like this."
Leeseo whimpered, her head lolling against your shoulder, her body limp with oversensitivity. "P-please—"
"Please *what*?" You nipped at her neck, fingers digging into her hips as you thrust harder. "Use that pretty mouth properly."
She shuddered, her voice breaking. "Please—*fuck me* like you mean it."
"Count," you ordered, your voice rough against the shell of her ear as you pulled out suddenly, leaving her clenching around nothing. Leeseo's breath hitched—sharp, desperate—her hips jerking forward in a futile search for friction. "Count how many times you come from this." You didn’t wait for her to protest before slamming back in, the angle brutal, *perfect*, your cock dragging against that spot that made her vision whiten.
Her first orgasm ripped through her before you’d even fully sheathed yourself—her back arching like a bowstring, a broken scream tearing from her throat as she squirted, hot and shameless, all over your thighs. "O-one," she gasped, her voice ragged, her nails scraping against the railing. You didn’t give her a second to recover. Your thrusts were relentless, each one hitting her g-spot with surgical precision, her body jolting like a live wire under yours.
"T-two—*ah!*—three—" Leeseo’s voice cracked, her thighs trembling as another wave crashed over her, her cunt pulsing around you in a rhythm that felt like surrender. She lost the count by the fifth, her mind reduced to static, her body moving on pure instinct—arching, writhing, *begging* for more even as she sobbed from oversensitivity.
By the tenth orgasm, she was babbling—half-formed pleas and shattered moans, her words dissolving into gasps every time you bottomed out inside her. The rooftop was a mess beneath you both, her slick coating the concrete in glistening streaks, the evidence of her pleasure impossible to ignore.
"Twenty-seven," you growled against her ear, your fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. Leeseo barely reacted, her body limp against the railing, her chest heaving. "Twenty-eight." Another brutal thrust, and she convulsed—her cunt fluttering wildly, her toes curling in her abandoned heels. "Twenty-nine." Her head dropped forward, her breath coming in shallow pants, her entire body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
"Thirty," you growled, your hips snapping forward one last time, burying yourself to the hilt as your cock pulsed inside her. Leeseo's entire body went rigid—her back arched impossibly, her mouth open in a silent scream—before she shattered completely. Hot cum flooded her in thick spurts, mixing with her own slick as her cunt convulsed around you in rhythmic pulses, milking every last drop.
"*No—no, no, no—*" Leeseo's protests were breathless, her fingers clawing at the railing as if she could pull herself away, but her body betrayed her. Her thighs trembled, her hips rocking back instinctively to take you deeper even as she whimpered, "I'm not on the pill—*oh god*—"
You didn't slow down, didn't pull out. Instead, you ground deeper, your pelvis flush against her ass as you emptied yourself inside her, relishing the way her walls fluttered in helpless little spasms. "Should've thought of that before you begged for it," you murmured, biting down on her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. Leeseo's breath hitched—sharp, punched-out—as another orgasm tore through her, this one so violent her knees buckled entirely.
She slumped forward, barely caught by your arm around her waist, her body still quaking as a final, obscene gush of slick splattered against your thighs and the concrete below. The aftershocks left her limp, her chest heaving, her lips parted around ragged little gasps. You held her there for a long moment, your cock still half-hard inside her, watching the way your cum dripped down her trembling thighs.
Leeseo’s fingers twitched weakly against the railing, her voice hoarse. "You... you *actually*—" She swallowed, her throat working. "I *told* you—"
"You came thirty times," you interrupted, dragging your fingers through the mess between her legs, collecting your release before pressing it back into her with two lazy thrusts. Leeseo shuddered, a broken noise catching in her throat. "Pretty sure that means you wanted it just as much."
She didn’t answer. Her head dropped forward, her hair a tangled curtain hiding her expression. You smoothed a hand up her spine, feeling the way her breath stuttered under your touch. "Relax," you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "It’s already done."
A shaky exhale. Then, quietly, "*Fuck*." Her voice was raw, wrecked. "He’s going to—" She cut herself off, her fingers tightening around the railing until her knuckles blanched.
You turned her around, ignoring her weak attempt to pull away. Her skin was flushed, her pupils still blown wide with residual pleasure. "He won’t notice," you said, tilting her chin up with your thumb. "Not unless you *want* him to." The words hung between you, loaded. Leeseo’s breath hitched, her gaze darting away—but not before you caught the flicker of something dark in her eyes. Something hungry.
The rooftop air was thick with the scent of sex and perfume, the golden afternoon light painting the evidence of her pleasure in stark relief. Her skirt was still hiked up around her waist, her thighs streaked with a mix of fluids that glistened under the sun. You dragged a finger through it, watching her shiver as you brought it to your lips. "Tastes like you’re already thinking about round two."
Leeseo’s protest died in her throat when you kissed her, slow and filthy, your tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opened with a gasp. She tasted like salt and surrender, her body swaying into yours as if she’d forgotten how to stand on her own. When you pulled back, her lips were reddened, her chest rising and falling too fast.
"Thanks for letting me do that," you murmured, adjusting your tie with fingers still faintly sticky from her. The elevator doors slid shut behind Leeseo, sealing her scent—jasmine, salt, *you*—into the confined space. She didn’t turn around, but you saw the way her shoulders stiffened when you spoke, the pulse jumping in her exposed neck.
The silence stretched like the ache between her legs. Then, just as the elevator pinged for the 14th floor: "Remember—just this time." Her voice was hoarse, a blade wrapped in silk. The doors opened to the empty accounting department, fluorescent lights bleaching the blush still high on her cheeks. "And if I get pregnant," she added, finally meeting your gaze in the reflective metal, "you’ll take responsibility."
The threat should’ve chilled you. Instead, heat pooled low in your gut at the way her teeth dug into her swollen lower lip—like she was already imagining it. "Okay," you conceded, stepping closer just to watch her breath hitch. "Sorry for that." The apology tasted like a lie; both of you knew it. "I’ll stay at the office tonight to overwork." Your fingers brushed the small of her back, fleeting as a secret. "If you want… you can join me in my room." The suggestion lingered between you, heavy as the perfume still clinging to her skin. "Just tell your boyfriend you’ve got overtime."
Leeseo’s nostrils flared. For a heartbeat, you thought she might slap you—or kiss you again, which amounted to the same thing under *Euphoria*’s influence. Instead, she strode out without a word, her heels clicking a furious rhythm down the linoleum. The elevator doors swallowed her retreating figure whole.
The spreadsheet blurred before Leeseo’s eyes, the numbers swimming into meaningless patterns as her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She exhaled sharply, pressing her thighs together under the desk—still sore, still *aching* in a way that made her bite the inside of her cheek. The office air conditioning prickled against her sweat-dampened blouse, but it wasn’t the cold that sent shivers down her spine. It was the memory of his hands. His mouth. The way he’d *ruined* her against the railing like she was nothing more than—
*Focus.* She stabbed at her keyboard, deleting an entire column by accident. Three hours. Three hours since the rooftop, since she’d stumbled into the women’s restroom to clean herself up, since she’d scrubbed her thighs raw with paper towels and still smelled like *him* underneath her citrus perfume. Her coffee had gone cold. Across the open-plan office, she caught a flicker of movement—*him*, leaning over another employee’s monitor, his tie knotted perfectly, his expression all polite focus. As if he hadn’t left her trembling and dripping barely a quarter-day ago.
Her phone buzzed. A text from her boyfriend: *Dinner tonight? That place you like near the station.* Leeseo’s thumb hovered over the screen. She should say yes. Should go home, let him kiss her hello, let his hands roam over her body like they had a right to. But the thought made her stomach twist. His touch had always been… adequate. Careful. Nothing like the *claiming* pressure of fingers that knew exactly how to make her scream. She swallowed hard, her pulse jumping when she realized *he* was looking at her now—just a glance, just a flicker of eye contact, but it burned.
Her phone buzzed again. *???* Her boyfriend’s follow-up. Leeseo exhaled through her nose and typed, *Stay at office tonight, overwork. See you tomorrow. I love u.* She hit send before she could second-guess it, then flipped the screen face-down, her cheeks hot. It wasn’t a lie. Not really. She *would* be working late. Just… not alone.
The clock ticked toward six PM. Coworkers began packing up, bidding cheerful goodbyes, oblivious to the way Leeseo’s nails dug into her own thighs under the desk. She should leave. Should go home, shower, scrub the scent of *Euphoria* and sex from her skin. But her body remembered the weight of him between her legs, the stretch of him inside her, the way he’d *laughed* when she came apart. Thirty times. *Thirty.* Her boyfriend had never made her come once without fumbling.
You barely glanced up from the quarterly reports when the knock came—three sharp raps against the frosted glass of your office door. "Come in," you called, expecting a janitor or some junior associate who’d forgotten their keycard. The hinges creaked, and there she was: Leeseo, silhouetted in the doorway, backlit by the sterile hallway fluorescents. For a heartbeat, you didn’t recognize her. The black tank top clung to every dip and curve of her torso, the neckline dipping low enough to reveal the faint shadow of cleavage. No blazer. No demure office attire. Just tight fabric and bare arms, her collarbones gleaming under the dim desk lamp.
"Sorry if it took too long," she said, stepping inside and letting the door click shut behind her. Her fingers plucked at the hem of the tank, a nervous gesture you’d never seen from her before. "I had to buy something like this." The unspoken *for you* hung between you like a challenge.
Your pen froze mid-signature. She’d changed out of her work clothes entirely—no skirt, just snug black jeans that hugged her hips, the kind she’d never wear to the office. Her hair was down now, tousled as if she’d run her hands through it in the elevator. The scent of jasmine and something darker—vanilla, maybe—wafted across the room. Not *Euphoria*. Just her. Just Leeseo, standing there like she’d walked out of a different life.
"You didn’t go home," you observed, leaning back in your chair. The leather creaked under your weight.
Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth. "I *texted* him." A pause. Then, quieter: "Told him I was staying late." The way she said it—half-defiant, half-ashamed—sent a thrill down your spine. She’d lied. For you. For *this*.
The office hummed around you—the AC vent overhead, the distant whir of the building’s generator. You let the silence stretch until she fidgeted, her fingers twisting the strap of her purse. "That’s not what you usually wear," you said at last, nodding toward her outfit. A deliberate understatement.
Leeseo exhaled sharply, her shoulders squaring. "I *know*." Two steps forward, her heels muffled by the carpet. "You—" She stopped, her throat working. "You kept looking at me. Earlier. Like you were…" Her voice trailed off, but her meaning was clear. *Like you were already undressing me.*
Your chair rolled forward with a quiet scrape. "And?"
"And I *hate* that I liked it." The admission tore from her, raw as the flush creeping up her neck. She lifted her chin, defiant. "So I bought this." A gesture to the tank top, the way it clung to her ribs. "To see if you’d look at me like that again."
You stood slowly, circling the desk. Her breath hitched when you stopped just inches away, close enough to catch the pulse fluttering at her throat. "You didn’t have to change," you murmured, brushing a thumb over the delicate strap of her top. The fabric was thin, warm from her skin. "I’d have looked anyway."
Leeseo swallowed hard, her lashes fluttering. "That’s the problem."
"*It's the perfume, right?*" Leeseo's voice was breathless, her fingers already working at your belt buckle before you could answer. "*The effects made me... like this.*" Her palm pressed against the outline of your cock through your slacks, warm even through the fabric. "*Tell me it's just the perfume.*"
You caught her wrist, forcing her to meet your gaze. "*Yeah. New product. You were the subject.*" A beat of silence. Then, quieter: "*I picked you because I wanted you before the perfume ever existed.*"
Leeseo's lips parted—not in shock, but something closer to recognition. "*I want to be mad at you,*" she murmured, her free hand sliding up your thigh. "*The perfume made me horny. But your dick?*" Her fingers traced the length of you through your pants, deliberate. "*Your *skill*? That’s what ruined me.*"
The confession hung between you, thick as the scent of her shampoo. Then she pushed you backward into your office chair with surprising force, her knees hitting the carpet as she dropped between your legs. "*That’s why I came,*" she added, her voice dropping to a whisper as she yanked your zipper down. Your cock sprang free, already half-hard just from the look in her eyes.
"*Ugh, I missed this,*" Leeseo groaned, nuzzling against your length before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tip. Her tongue darted out to catch the bead of pre-cum already forming, her lashes fluttering at the taste. "*Fuck. Even your smell is addictive.*"
Her mouth was hot, wet perfection—a velvet vise of slick pressure that made your hips jerk the second she took you deep. Leeseo didn’t flinch, didn’t gag. Just hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, her tongue swirling along the underside of your cock like she’d memorized every ridge. "*Jesus—*" Your fingers tangled in her hair, not guiding, just holding on as she pulled back to drag her lips over the tip, catching the pre-cum beading there with a soft, obscene noise.
She alternated between teasing and relentless—one moment flicking her tongue against the slit in maddening little circles, the next swallowing you down to the root with a throaty hum that vibrated through your entire body. When you groaned, her eyelashes fluttered up, her dark eyes locking onto yours as if she’d been waiting for the reaction. "*Good?*" she murmured, the words muffled around your cock, her breath ghosting over spit-slick skin.
You tugged her hair just to watch her lips stretch wider. "*Too good.*" The praise lit her up like a switch—her hips shifting restlessly against the carpet, her fingers digging into your thighs as she took you deeper, *faster*, her nose brushing your lower stomach with every plunge. She’d clearly done this before, and well, but the way her body reacted to your approval? That was new.
Her rhythm stuttered when you curled a hand around the back of her neck, holding her still as you thrust shallowly into her mouth. Leeseo’s eyes rolled back, her throat working around you with a choked noise that sent heat straight to your balls. "*Fuck, look at you,*" you growled, watching drool spill from her stretched lips as you fucked her face in slow, deliberate strokes. Her fingers twisted in your slacks, *pleading*, but you didn’t let up. Not until her lashes fluttered, her cheeks hollowing around another desperate suck that threatened to unravel you.
You pulled her off with a wet pop, her lips swollen and glistening. "*Not yet,*" you warned, thumbing the corner of her mouth where spit had smudged her lipstick. Leeseo blinked up at you, dazed, her chest rising and falling too fast. Then—without breaking eye contact—she laved a broad stripe up the underside of your cock, her tongue flat and hot, before swirling it around the tip with a precision that made your abs clench. "*Christ.*"
She grinned, wicked, her teeth grazing the sensitive head just to hear you curse. Then she ducked lower, her lips trailing down to your balls, her tongue lapping at the tight skin there until your hips jerked off the chair. "*You’re—*" You hissed when her nails raked up your inner thighs, her mouth returning to your shaft with a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. "*—gonna kill me.*"
Leeseo hummed, the vibration rippling through you as she took you back into her throat, her nose pressing into your pelvis. This time, when you tugged her hair, she didn’t resist—just let you set the pace, her throat flexing around each thrust as you fucked her mouth in earnest. Her fingers found your belt loops, *anchoring*, her body swaying forward with every push like she was starving for it.
The sight of her—lips stretched, eyes watering but still locked onto yours, her cheeks flushed with effort—was too much. You gripped her hair tighter, your hips stuttering. "*Gonna come.*" The warning came out ragged, but Leeseo didn’t pull away. Just sucked harder, her tongue pressing insistently along the vein beneath your cock as if to wring it out of you faster.
Leeseo pulled back with a wet gasp, strands of saliva still connecting her swollen lips to the head of your cock. Her tongue darted out to catch the mess at the corner of her mouth, those dark eyes locked onto yours with a hunger that made your pulse hammer. "Am I a good girl, Daddy?" The words were barely more than a whisper, rough from throatfucking, but they hit you like a live wire.
Your fingers tightened in her hair. "Of course," you growled, thumbing her lower lip hard enough to make her whimper. "And I’ll reward you." The chair creaked as you stood, forcing her backward with your grip until her knees hit the edge of your desk. "Lay down. Spread those legs open wide." A command, not a request.
Leeseo hesitated for only a second before obeying, the leather desk chair creaking as she hoisted herself onto the polished surface. Her legs dangled off the edge, knees already parting before your hands even touched her. You trailed a single finger up the inseam of her jeans, watching her breath hitch when you reached the button. "These first," you murmured, popping it open with a flick of your thumb. The zipper came down agonizingly slow, the sound loud in the quiet office. Leeseo's hips lifted instinctively when you tugged, helping you peel the denim down her thighs—revealing black lace panties already damp at the center.
"You planned this," you accused, hooking your fingers into the waistband. She didn't deny it, just bit her lip as you dragged the fabric down, her scent flooding the space between you. The panties caught on one ankle—her fault for not kicking off her heels—and you let them dangle there, a flag of surrender. The tank top was next. You gripped the hem and pulled it up in one smooth motion, pausing when her arms lifted above her head. Her ribs fluttered under your palms, the rapid beat of her heart visible beneath pale skin. The lace bra matched the panties, sheer enough that her nipples were already peaked against the fabric.
"Last chance to back out," you lied, snapping the front clasp open without waiting for an answer. Leeseo gasped as her breasts spilled free, the cool office air making her skin pebble instantly. You palmed one, rolling the stiff peak between your fingers until her back arched off the desk. "Look at you," you muttered, dragging your thumb through the slick warmth between her legs. "Dripping before I've even touched you properly."
She whimpered when you withdrew your hand, but the protest died as you unbuckled her left heel, then the right, dropping them to the carpet with deliberate thuds. The final act was the necklace—a delicate silver chain her boyfriend must've given her. You snapped the clasp between your teeth, letting it pool in the hollow of her throat before tucking it into your pocket. "Mine now," you said, and the way her thighs trembled told you she understood exactly what you meant.
Naked at last, Leeseo looked like a Renaissance painting gone sinful—her skin flushed from collarbones to knees, one arm thrown over her eyes like she couldn't bear to watch, even as her hips tilted upward in silent invitation. You spread her wider, thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her inner thighs.
Your tongue traced the shape of her before diving in—flat and broad against her clit, then pointed and relentless when you found the swollen bud beneath the hood. Leeseo’s thighs tensed around your head, her hips jerking off the desk with a choked gasp. You pinned her down with one forearm across her pelvis, your other hand already working two fingers into her, curling upward the second they slid home. Her body clenched around you, wet and pulsing, but you didn’t slow down—just crooked your fingers in that ruthless *come-hither* motion that made her back arch off the leather with a sob.
The noise she made when you hit her g-spot was half-scream, half-laugh—hysterical, broken, like she’d been caught off guard by her own body’s betrayal. Her hands scrambled for purchase on the desk, her nails scraping against the polished wood as you redoubled your efforts, your tongue circling her clit in tight, rapid flicks while your fingers fucked her with piston-like precision. *“F-fuck, wait—*” Her plea dissolved into a moan when you sucked her clit into your mouth, your teeth grazing it just enough to make her legs shake. *“I can’t—*”
But she could. And she did.
The first spurt hit your chin without warning—hot, salt-bitter, her thighs clamping around your ears as her body bowed off the desk. You didn’t pull back, didn’t flinch. Just kept licking, kept *drinking*, your fingers milking her g-spot until the second gush came, then the third, her slick splattering across your cheeks, your lips, the front of your dress shirt. Leeseo’s hands fisted in your hair, yanking hard enough to hurt, her voice raw as she chanted *“ohgodohgodohgod”* between ragged gasps. The squirting didn’t stop—just kept coming in pulses, her orgasm wrung out of her like water from a twisted rag, her thighs trembling violently around your head.
When you finally lifted your face, she was a wreck—chest heaving, lips parted around silent, panting breaths, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Your fingers slid out of her with an obscene sound, her body clinging like it didn’t want to let go. You held them up, glistening under the office lights, before pressing them to her parted lips. Leeseo’s tongue darted out instinctively, her lashes fluttering as she tasted herself on your skin.
Your cock slid into her inch by agonizing inch, her body stretching to accommodate you, her walls fluttering around the intrusion. Leeseo's breath hitched, her eyes flying open to meet yours, her legs locking around your hips as if to pull you deeper. "Fuck," she gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders. "You're—Jesus, you're so big."
You growled, your hips rolling forward until you were fully sheathed inside her. "You can take it," you rasped, your voice low and commanding. "Take every inch of me, you little squirter."
Leeseo's pussy clenched around you at the words, her eyes darkening with lust. "Yes," she whimpered, her heels digging into your ass, urging you on. "Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me hard."
You obliged, your hips snapping forward, your cock sliding into her in powerful strokes. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the office, punctuated by Leeseo's moans, her breath coming in ragged pants. "Look at you," you grunted, your eyes locked onto hers. "Taking my cock like a good little slut."
Leeseo's body responded to the filthy words, her pussy gushing around you, her legs tightening around your hips. "Yes," she moaned, her head thrown back, her throat exposed. "I'm your little slut. Use me, Daddy. Make me come all over your cock."
Your thumb found her clit, circling it in time with your thrusts, your movements rough, demanding. "You're going to come for me," you ordered, your voice harsh. "You're going to come so hard, you're going to squirt all over this desk."
Leeseo's body tensed, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I'm close," she warned, her voice breathless. "So close, Daddy."
You growled, your thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. "Come for me," you snarled, your thumb pressing down hard on her clit. "Come now, you little slut."
Leeseo's body obeyed, her orgasm ripping through her with a cry, her pussy clenching around you in rhythmic waves. You felt the first gush of wetness, her body squirting, her juices coating your cock, your balls, the insides of her thighs. You kept fucking her through it, your thrusts relentless, your thumb still working her clit, drawing out her orgasm until she was a sobbing, shaking mess beneath you.
But you weren't done with her yet. You wanted to feel her come again, wanted to feel her squirting all over your cock, again and again. You reached down, your fingers finding her asshole, circling it, pressing against it. Leeseo moaned, her body tensing at the new sensation. "Yes," she gasped, her voice hoarse. "Fuck my ass, Daddy. Make me come again."
You obliged, your fingers sliding into her ass, your movements slow, gentle at first, then increasing in pace, in pressure, matching the rhythm of your cock sliding in and out of her pussy. Leeseo's body responded, her pussy clenching around you, her legs trembling. "I'm coming again," she moaned, her voice breathless. "I'm coming, Daddy."
This time, when she came, it was with a scream, her body convulsing, her pussy squirting again, her juices coating your cock, your balls, the insides of her thighs. You felt her asshole clench around your fingers, her body writhing beneath you, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that made her entire body shake. But you didn't stop. You kept fucking her, kept working her clit, kept fingering her ass, determined to make her come again.
Leeseo's body responded, her orgasms coming faster now, her screams filling the office, her body squirting again and again, her juices coating you, the desk, the floor. You lost count of how many times she came, her body writhing, her legs shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps. All you knew was that she was yours, that you were making her come harder than she ever had before.
Finally, when her body was trembling, her pussy clenching around you in weak, spent pulses, you allowed yourself to come. You groaned, your hips stuttering, your cock pulsing as you filled her up, your release hot and heavy, mixing with her juices, coating your cock, your balls, her thighs.
When the last waves of your orgasm subsided, you pulled out of her slowly, your cock glistening with her juices and your cum. Leeseo collapsed onto the desk, her body still trembling, her eyes closed, her chest heaving. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her spine, her hip, her thigh.
"How are you feeling, little squirter?" you asked, your voice soft, satisfied.
Leeseo's lips curled into a small smile, her eyes still closed. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice hoarse, exhausted. "I've never... I've never come that many times before."
You chuckled, helping her sit up, your hands gentle on her body. "Good," you said, your voice satisfied. "Because that was just the beginning."
You flipped Leeseo onto her hands and knees on the desk, her ass in the air, her face pressed against the cool wood. Her pussy was glistening, swollen and pink, her juices dripping down her thighs, onto the desk beneath her. You ran a finger along her slit, collecting her wetness, bringing it to your lips, tasting her.
"Look at you," you murmured, your voice low, mocking. "So eager. Your pussy's dripping like a broken faucet. Can't even hold it in, can you?" You ran your finger along her slit again, circling her clit, making her squirm. "Tell me, little slut, how many times have you come today?"
Leeseo whimpered, pushing her ass back against you, inviting you in. "Please," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Please don't tease me, Daddy. Fuck me. Make me come again."
You chuckled, running your cock along her slit, coating it in her juices. "Make you come again?" you echoed, mocking. "You mean like this?" You pressed the head of your cock against her entrance, not pushing in, just holding there, teasing her.
Leeseo cried out, her body jolting forward, her fingers scrabbling at the desk for purchase. "Yes," she gasped, her voice breathless. "Please, Daddy. Fuck me. Fuck me hard."
You tsked, pulling back, denying her entry. "Not yet," you murmured, running your hands over her curves, squeezing her ass, her hips. "First, let's see how much you really want it."
You reached around, your fingers finding her clit, circling it, pressing against it, not letting up, not giving her the friction she needed to come. Leeseo moaned, her body writhing, her breath coming in ragged pants. "Please," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Please, Daddy. Make me come. I'll do anything."
You hummed, considering, your fingers still working her clit, your cock still teasing her entrance. "Anything, you say?" you murmured, your voice low, dangerous.
Leeseo nodded, her body tensing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Yes," she gasped. "Anything, Daddy. Just please, make me come."
You smiled, satisfaction coursing through you. "Good," you said, your voice satisfied. "Because I have a few ideas."
"Here's your first challenge," you said, your voice low, dangerous. "I'm going to fuck you. Hard. And you're not going to come until I say so. Understand?"
Leeseo's body tensed, her breath hitching. "Yes, Daddy," she whispered, her voice filled with trepidation and anticipation.
You rewarded her with a slow, deep thrust, sliding into her to the hilt. Leeseo moaned, her body jerking forward, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk. "Fuck," she gasped, her voice ragged. "You're so big. So deep."
You didn't respond, just began to move, your hips snapping forward in steady, powerful strokes. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the office, punctuated by Leeseo's moans, her breath coming in ragged pants. You reached around, your fingers finding her clit, circling it, pressing against it, in time with your thrusts.
Leeseo's body responded, her pussy clenching around you, her legs trembling. "Please," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Please, Daddy. I can't—"
"Shh," you hushed, your voice firm. "You can. And you will. Because you're my good little slut, aren't you?"
Leeseo nodded, her body writhing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Yes," she gasped. "I'm your good little slut, Daddy."
You smiled, satisfaction coursing through you. "Good," you said, your voice satisfied. "Now, don't you dare come until I say so."
The steady rhythm of your hips became almost mechanical, each thrust pushing Leeseo further toward the edge she wasn’t allowed to tumble over. Her back arched, sweat glistening between her shoulder blades as she bit down on her lower lip hard enough to leave marks. "Daddy—I can’t—" she gasped, her voice cracking mid-sentence.
"You can," you growled, gripping her hips tighter, your fingers digging into the soft flesh. "And you will. Because I said so." Your cock dragged against her walls with deliberate slowness, the swollen head catching at her entrance every time you pulled back just to shove in again, denying her the steady, building friction she craved.
Leeseo whimpered, her thighs trembling, her nails scraping against the desk. Her body was a coiled spring, every muscle taut, her breaths shallow and uneven. The frustration was palpable—her pussy clenched around you in desperate, involuntary pulses, as if begging for release. But you kept your pace cruel and measured, your fingers circling her clit just enough to tease, never enough to tip her over.
Then, without warning, her entire body locked up. A broken, high-pitched cry tore from her throat as her orgasm crashed through her, violent and unstoppable. Her back arched sharply, her cunt squeezing you like a vice as pleasure ripped through her in waves.
Silence hung heavy for a single, suspended second.
The sharp crack of your palm against her ass split the air like a whip, the sound echoing off the office walls. Leeseo gasped, her body jerking forward from the impact, her thighs slick with sweat trembling against the desk. "Did I say you could come, little slut?" Your voice was low, dangerous, fingers tangling in her hair and yanking her head back until her spine arched. A whimper escaped her throat, her lips parted around uneven breaths. "N-no, Daddy—"
"You disobeyed me," you growled, landing another stinging slap across her reddening flesh. Her cry was sweet—half pain, half pleasure—her hips twitching helplessly against the desk. "Such a naughty girl." Your grip tightened in her hair, forcing her to look up at you, her pupils blown wide, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "What do naughty girls deserve?"
Leeseo shuddered, her voice a breathy whisper. "P-punishment, Daddy."
Another slap, harder this time. Her whole body jolted, her cunt clenching around your cock as if trying to pull you deeper even now. "Louder."
"Punishment!" she cried, her voice breaking.
You smirked, tracing your fingers down the curve of her spine before landing another sharp slap against her already reddened ass. Leeseo gasped, her body jerking forward, her cunt pulsing around you in a way that made your grip on her hips tighten. "Call him," you ordered, your voice dripping with amusement. "Right now."
Her breath hitched, fingers scrambling against the desk as she shook her head weakly. "Daddy, no—he can’t—"
Another slap, harder this time, the sound sharp enough to make her yelp. "You don’t get to say no." You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as your cock throbbed inside her. "Pick up the phone. Or I’ll make sure he hears exactly what you sound like when you come."
Leeseo whimpered, her thighs trembling as she reached blindly for her phone where it lay discarded near the edge of the desk. Her hands shook as she unlocked it, her breath coming in shallow pants. "Just... try not to get caught," she whispered, voice cracking.
You chuckled, rolling your hips in a slow, deliberate grind that made her toes curl. "No promises."
Leeseo’s fingers trembled as she hit the call button, her breath shallow and uneven. The phone rang once, twice—each second stretching into an eternity as your cock twitched inside her, still buried deep. Then his voice filled the room, warm and familiar. "Hey, baby. You okay?"
She swallowed hard, her thighs quivering as you lazily rolled your hips, the slow drag of your cock against her walls drawing a sharp inhale from her. "Y-yeah," she managed, her voice strained but sweet. "Just… tired. Work was insane today."
You smirked, leaning down to drag your tongue along the curve of her shoulder, tasting salt and desperation. Your free hand slid between her legs, fingers circling her clit with featherlight touches—just enough to make her breath hitch mid-sentence. "Oh?" Her boyfriend’s voice was laced with concern. "You sound off. You sure you’re not coming down with something?"
Leeseo bit down on her lip hard enough to bruise as your fingers dipped lower, teasing her slick entrance where your cock was already buried. "N-no, just—" Her voice cracked when you thrust shallowly, the sudden movement punching a quiet gasp from her. "Just… overworked. You know how it is."
You chuckled against her ear, your breath hot as your teeth grazed the shell of it. "How long do you think you’ll survive this, baby?" you murmured, voice thick with amusement. Your fingers tightened around her clit, pinching just enough to make her jerk against you, her cunt clenching around your cock like a vice.
She whimpered, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white. "M-maybe I should… lie down," she stammered, her voice breathless. "I think I—oh god—I think I need to rest."
Your hand clamped over her mouth just as another thrust sent a full-body shudder through her. "Tell him you love him," you ordered against her ear, your voice dark with amusement. "Go on. Say it sweetly."
Leeseo’s breath came in ragged pants against your palm before you slowly removed it, letting her speak. "I—I love you," she forced out, the words trembling as your fingers returned to her clit, rubbing slow circles that made her thighs shake.
"Love you too," he replied, oblivious. "You sound really out of it. You sure you don’t want me to come over? I can bring soup or something."
You bit down on her shoulder at that, stifling your own groan against her skin as her cunt clenched around you in response. "N-no!" she yelped, then quickly softened her tone. "I mean… I’m fine. Really. Just… need to sleep."
Her phone clattered onto the desk, skidding dangerously close to the edge as you pinned both her wrists against the small of her back in one swift motion. Leeseo's wide, startled eyes met yours in silent protest—mouth parted around a gasp that never escaped—as you rocked into her with deliberate, deep thrusts that left no room for resistance.
"Leeseo?" Her boyfriend's voice crackled through the phone's speaker, tinny with concern. "Hello? Did you drop something?"
She clenched her jaw, teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to turn the skin white under the pressure. The muscles in her thighs trembled with the effort of staying quiet, her body strung tight as a bowstring beneath yours. But you knew her too well—knew exactly how to twist your hips just so, dragging the swollen head of your cock against that spot inside her that made her vision blur.
A broken whimper escaped despite her efforts, her breath hitching audibly as her fingers curled helplessly against your grip.
The phone slipped from Leeseo’s sweat-slicked fingers with a clatter, skidding across the polished desk just as you pinned both her wrists against the small of her back in one fluid motion. Her breath hitched—lips parted around a silent gasp—as her wide, panicked eyes locked onto yours in wordless protest. You merely smirked, rolling your hips in a slow, deliberate grind that dragged a muffled whimper from her throat.
"Leeseo?" Her boyfriend’s voice crackled through the phone’s speaker, tinny with concern. "Hello? Did you drop something?"
She clenched her jaw, teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents in the flesh. Her thighs trembled, muscles straining beneath your grip as you fucked her with deep, measured thrusts designed to unravel her. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the office, punctuated by her ragged, uneven breaths.
But you knew her too well—knew exactly how to angle your hips just so, the swollen head of your cock dragging against that spot inside her that made her toes curl. A broken whimper escaped despite her efforts, her cunt clenching around you in involuntary pulses.
Leeseo’s thighs trembled violently as you drove into her with relentless precision, her body pinned between your grip and the unforgiving edge of the desk. Her wrists strained against your hold, fingers twitching helplessly as another sharp thrust forced a choked gasp from her throat. The slick sound of your cock plunging into her over and over mingled with the creak of the desk beneath her weight, every movement pushing her closer to the edge she couldn’t escape.
Her head lolled forward, sweat-damp hair sticking to her flushed cheeks as her breath came in ragged, uneven bursts. You tightened your grip on her wrists, yanking them higher up her back until her spine arched sharply, her ass pressing flush against your hips. The shift in angle dragged a broken moan from her lips—your name, half-sobbed, half-pleaded—as you pistoned into her with brutal efficiency.
Then it hit her.
Her entire body locked up, muscles taut as bowstrings, her cunt clamping around you like a vice. A strangled cry tore from her throat, raw and unfiltered, as her orgasm ripped through her with violent intensity. “I—I’m cumming!” she screamed, the words cracking under the weight of her pleasure, her voice echoing off the office walls. Her back arched impossibly further, toes curling as her pussy pulsed around you, wetness gushing down her thighs in slick, shameful rivulets.
The moment her orgasm hit, you didn't hold back. With a growl that vibrated through her sweat-slicked back, you slammed into her one final time, burying yourself to the hilt as your cock twitched inside her. Warmth flooded her depths in thick pulses, your release mixing with hers as her cunt milked you greedily through the aftershocks. Leeseo gasped—a wet, shuddering sound—her thighs trembling violently as your cum filled her, the sensation dragging another weak whimper from her swollen lips.
The phone lay abandoned near her trembling fingers, still emitting the tinny sound of her boyfriend’s confused voice. "Leeseo? What was that noise? Are you—" You smirked, plucking it up with one hand while the other remained firmly wrapped around her waist, keeping her pinned against you as your cock throbbed inside her, still buried deep. Leeseo whimpered, her body limp and spent, her thighs slick with sweat and the evidence of her orgasm.
You pressed the phone back into her shaking hand, your lips grazing the shell of her ear. "Answer him," you murmured, your voice thick with amusement. "Tell him you’re fine."
She swallowed hard, her breath ragged as she lifted the phone to her ear. "I—I’m okay," she stammered, her voice hoarse and uneven.
"Bullshit," her boyfriend snapped, his tone sharp with suspicion. "That wasn’t nothing. Were you—were you with someone else?"
Leeseo’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the phone as your hand slid down her stomach, fingertips tracing the sensitive skin just above where your cock still filled her. She shuddered, her thighs trembling as your thumb brushed over her swollen clit in a slow, deliberate circle. A whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it.
The screen flickered to life before Leeseo could react—her boyfriend’s confused face filling the frame just as your arms hooked under her thighs, lifting her off the desk in one swift motion. Her breath hitched, legs instinctively wrapping around your waist as gravity dragged her down onto your cock, the sudden penetration punching a sharp cry from her lips. "N-no—wait—!" she stammered, fingers scrambling against your shoulders, but the phone had already clattered onto the desk, the camera angled perfectly to capture her bouncing in your grip, her toes curled helplessly above the floor.
For a frozen second, silence. Then—
"Leeseo?!" Her boyfriend’s voice cracked through the speaker, high with shock. "What the fuck—who is—?!"
You answered by slamming her down harder, your hips snapping up to meet her, the wet slap of skin echoing obscenely through the office. Leeseo’s head snapped back, a broken scream tearing from her throat as her nails dug into your shoulders. "D-Daddy—I can’t—he’s *watching*—!"
"Oh, he’s watching alright," you growled, adjusting your grip to hike her higher, your cock grinding deeper as her thighs trembled around you. On screen, her boyfriend’s face twisted—horror, betrayal, fury—but Leeseo was beyond noticing. Her hips rolled instinctively, her cunt fluttering around you as another brutal thrust dragged a guttural moan from her chest. "Fuck—*fuck*—!"
The phone screen wobbled with each movement, her boyfriend’s strangled curses dissolving into static as you pivoted, pressing Leeseo’s back against the nearest wall. Her legs tightened around you, heels digging into your ass as you fucked her in sharp, shallow strokes designed to tease. "Tell him," you murmured against her ear, your breath hot. "Tell him who owns this pussy."
The force of your thrusts pinned Leeseo against the wall, her shoulders scraping against the drywall as her legs trembled around your waist. The phone lay forgotten on the desk, its screen still displaying her boyfriend’s horrified expression—his mouth moving soundlessly, his eyes wide with disbelief. But neither of you cared. All that mattered was the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the way her cunt clenched around you with every punishing drive of your hips.
"You feel that?" you growled, biting down on the curve of her shoulder as your fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs. "Feel how fucking deep I am?" Leeseo could only whimper in response, her nails dragging down your back as her head lolled forward, sweat-damp hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. Her pussy pulsed around you, hot and slick, her body trembling on the precipice of another orgasm.
Then you shifted your grip, hooking one arm beneath her knees and spreading her wide—forcing her legs apart until her swollen, glistening cunt was fully exposed to the camera’s unblinking eye. Her boyfriend’s choked gasp crackled through the speaker, but Leeseo was beyond shame now. Her back arched, her hips grinding down onto your cock as you fucked her with relentless, brutal strokes.
"Look at him," you ordered, your voice rough with exertion. "Watch him watch you fall apart." Leeseo’s tear-streaked face turned toward the phone, her lips parted around ragged, uneven breaths. Her boyfriend’s expression twisted—betrayal, fury, disgust—but his gaze remained locked on where your cock disappeared into her, again and again, her pussy stretched obscenely around your length.
Then it happened.
Leeseo's entire body seized as the orgasm tore through her, her thighs clamping around your hips with bruising force. A guttural scream ripped from her throat—half pleasure, half humiliation—as her pussy convulsed violently around your cock, hot juices gushing down your shaft in slick, shameful rivulets. Her boyfriend's strangled gasp crackled through the phone's speaker, his horrified face frozen on the screen just as her cunt pulsed around you one final time, squirting hard enough for the translucent spray to glisten in the dim office light.
Then you let go.
A deep groan tore from your chest as your hips snapped forward one last time, burying yourself to the hilt as your cock twitched inside her. Warmth flooded her depths in thick, pulsing spurts, your release mixing with hers as it overflowed—dripping down her swollen lips in sticky strands that clung to her trembling thighs. Leeseo whimpered, her body going slack against you, her legs trembling violently as you slowly pulled out, watching your cum leak from her well-used pussy onto the floor beneath her.
Her boyfriend's voice was barely audible over the sound of her ragged breathing. "*What the fuck*—Leeseo?! Answer me! Who the fuck is—"
But she was beyond responding. Her body slid bonelessly down the wall, collapsing onto the office floor in a heap of limp limbs and sweat-slick skin. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, her fingers twitching weakly against the carpet as a final shudder ran through her. The phone screen flickered—his face twisted in fury, mouth moving soundlessly—before the call abruptly disconnected, leaving the office bathed in heavy silence save for Leeseo's exhausted whimpers.
You press a finger to your ear, take a deep breath, and push into the side door—into the nightclub proper.
There’s a half-second where you go completely deaf before your hearing returns to you. The noise hits you all at once: the hissing spray of the fog machines overhead, the thumping of the bass that threatens the warranty of the surround-sound speakers, the cheers and jeers of the crowd, the rhythmless thumping of bouncing bodies. Everything is a shade of red-orange. You have to hold up a hand to your face to stop one of the strobe lights from blinding you. As you take your first few steps into the scene this evening, you smoothen out the creases of your blazer and nod.
This is SAXO—the most prestigious nightclub on this side of Seoul. Belonging to a collection of different spots all under The Kingdom Collective, hundreds—if not thousands—of warm bodies find their ways at SAXO’s doorstep to drink, spend, and party to forget their pitiful lives for even just a few hours.
But not you. Not you.
You take a deep breath. Really feel it in your chest. And when you exhale slowly, letting the drag of air on the way out tickle your nostrils, you lock in as time slows down to a blur all around you.
You scan the room.
Slashed purse at Table Fourteen. Half-filled beer bottle at the DJ’s mixing pad. Fingers thrusted at the bar area.
Index to thumb, you snap. Then it all comes back to life.
You strut over to Table Fourteen and grab the idiot with curly hair by the inside of his belt, preventing his escape. “Huh? What—?”
Smack. You backhand the son of a bitch and take the opportunity to grab the wallet he was just holding as he stumbles backwards onto the floor.
You sift through the I.D. cards and glance at the group of unaware ladies who are now looking at you in confusion. “This must be yours. Keep an eye on your things please. Our staff can only do so much.”
After the ponytailed woman nods at you in silent gratitude, you whistle and call over a triad of bouncers. They immediately swarm the perpetrator and have him pinned with his arms behind his back. “You know the drill. Put his photo up on the wall. Then give these ladies a bottle from the top shelf. On the house.”
The same lady from earlier gasps and shakes her head. “No no, it’s fine. Getting my wallet back’s more than enough.”
But you calm her down with a gesture of your hand and signal to one of the bouncers. “Hennessy. On me.”
When her drunken friends scream in elation over hearing this, the lady smiles and lifts her glass up to you. You salute with two fingers before trudging towards the dance floor.
Cutting through should be easy, but the ongoing rave makes the crowd feel like an actual ocean.
Shoulders bumping. Backs pressing into you. Whispers exchanging at decibels higher than they should be. You don’t part the crowd—you know better than to do that. Instead you run your hand through your hair and get with it. Get with them. You go with the flow. Head bopping. Arms in the air. Swaying and shimmying past person to person. All until you reach the elevated podium.
One of the bouncers stationed at the front sees you and snaps into a straighter posture, but when you lift both your hands at him he learns to relax a bit. “First night?”
He glances left and right to make sure you’re talking to him. “Y-Yeah … s-s-sorry, boss.”
“Relax. Take it easy. Just remember: make sure everyone’s having a good time. The safe way.”
“Y-You got it!” he wheezes, unclipping the velvet cord so you can pass through. You pat him on the back and squeeze his shoulder before jogging up the steps towards the sound booth.
Pressing fingers against your ear to fold it shut, you dip forward and jab your waist at the DJ. You give him no time to complain. This sudden motion makes the wire connecting his headphones to his laptop coil around his bottle of beer and would have sent it toppling onto the mixing pad had you not swiped it up in time.
“Jesus Christ—you fucking scared me. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a set here?” Hajoon groaned, unraveling the wire.
“I said no drinks while you’re on set. This is the third time this week.”
He flaps his lips in mockery, snatching the beer back from you. Downs it in one go. Sighs in contentment. Then shoves it back to your chest, dampening the fold of your blazer. “Whatever, bossman. Learn to loosen up a little. Here—ready for the drop?”
As soon as he pushes one of the doodads on his device, you hear the music start to quicken and pulsate throughout the room. You can feel the hastening thrum in the back of your throat. When you think you can’t take the tension anymore, Hajoon flicks his wrist and throws his hands in the air.
“Everybody make some noise!”
Then the drop happens and everyone’s cheering to the beat. Tongues out. Fists pumping. Bodies yielding.
Hajoon jabs you with his waist and wraps an arm around your neck. “You see that, bossman? That’s the kind of magic we fucking enable each night. So will you cut me some slack? If it helps, I’ll cut back on the drinks too. I only got to sneak one in because you sent a newbie to guard me tonight.”
You peel his sweaty arm off you and dust yourself off. “We’ll see. Maybe play some good music first, then I’ll think about it.”
He hisses. “So fucking cold. But that makes me respect you all the more—not gonna lie.”
You ignore him and duck under the cord to rejoin the shifting masses. The new bouncer doesn’t even get a chance to say goodbye as you slither your way once more through the crowd to get to the other side of the room where the bar is.
“I fucking told you—we paid for our table in advance. What do you mean we need to show you ‘proof of purchase’? Fucking bitch. Your place is already expensive—.”
“Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem here.”
The gravitas you exude is enough to silence the four men trying to overpower and intimidate your bar staff.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” you repeat, making sure they hear you over the second beat drop Hajoon just laid out for the people. “You can relay it to me directly.”
One of the guys tugs on the sleeve of his complaining friend, but he swats him away. He’s the only one who still looks arrogant despite his face being as red as a raspberry. “Ya … who the fuck are you? Are you their manager? I’d like to speak with the fucking manager.”
“You’re talking to him.”
“O-Oh … oh, then good,” he flinches. “Like I was saying—your club’s trying to fucking scam me and my friends. Bleeding us dry, huh? We paid for the table reservation fee AND the three-hour extension for our table. And they say we can’t get more fucking drinks?”
You gesture to the poor girl just trying to do her job. She hands you one of her small tablets and you begin scrolling through records. “Says here you paid in full and still have some credit for your tab. What do you want to order?”
He scoffs. “Was thinking of getting me and my boys a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. Each. But you’re all ruining our fun, so maybe we’ll just—.”
“You can’t afford it.”
The man raises a brow. “Excuse me? The fuck did you just—.”
“I said. You can’t afford it,” you utter once more, diction sharp enough to penetrate through their thick skulls. “The table’s a million won. You already spent nine-hundred thousand on other liquors. Four bottles of this gin will cost you two-hundred-and-forty thousand more—over your cap.”
“I can—.”
You point to the lanyard one of his friends wears. Then to the knock-off Ray Bans on his other friend’s forehead. Then to the crumpled envelope in his right pocket. “Keep burning your stipend money and you’ll be out of college faster than I can kick you out of this club.”
His little group inhales so tensely through clenching teeth over what you just relayed to them that their little leader starts to physically fume in the well-deserved embarrassment. “Y-Yeah? Well fuck you, asshat. Let’s go, guys. We’re leaving—.”
You hold your arm out to stop his lanky body in time, grabbing some middle shelf liquor in the same stroke. “Here. Bit over your tab, but on me. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
You don’t get the privilege to see his dumfounded face. You salute the woman working the bar before heading towards the back wings.
This was you. This is your nightly life as the manager of SAXO. It’s never dull. Not with the constant flow of people like these it isn’t.
When you lean against the wall adjacent to the restrooms, one of the bouncers notices you and offers you a seat by one of the empty tables along the balcony area, but you reject it with a shake of your chin. Hard to patrol when seated. Hard to monitor without a vantage point. There’s never any rest for the wicked, so you don’t allow yourself any either. Instead, you fix the grip of your watch against your wrist and check the time.
Twelve-fifty-three.
Glancing back up, your hairs stand on edge.
You find yourself as if you were on the roof of the building. Atop SAXO. Where the humdrum of the club below can blur enough to the point that it can almost be considered silence. You take what you can get. In this spec of solitude amidst your night to night affairs for work, you enjoy being able to stare up at the evening sky and just gaze. Stargaze.
When you look at the stars, you never really focus on a single fixed point. There are many stars out there, constantly burning, some already having died out, some whose light have yet to reach your eyes. They all look the same to you. Same shining orbs. Same glow and halation. Same patch of freckles that dot the expanse of the universe. But once in a while, once you let your guard down—if you can even let it—you find yourself drawn to a star that calls to you. Grabs your attention. Not brighter. Not differently-colored. Not even more attractive.
It just pulls you in. And before you know it, it’s all you look at. It’s all your weary eyes focus on.
It’s all you see.
That’s the same thing she does to you.
Chests lift and drop. Shoulders form waves that veil her visage. Strobe lights paint everything around her in a light haze. She whips her head around, hair fanning out downwards. Dip of the chin. Rise of the nose. Lock of the eyes.
She isn’t just looking at you. She’s caught you.
And the pull of her lips into a smirk is enough evidence of it.
You know very well that meeting someone’s gaze at the club is a death sentence. You know their appearance now. How they act. What they do. Where they are. You can track them down around the dance floor. Pinpoint their table. Vibe check their company. Note how intoxicated they are. Check to see if they’re hitting on someone. Or if anyone’s hitting on them.
But when someone catches you staring? That isn’t just a death sentence.
It’s an execution. And she drops the guillotine on you the moment she bites her lip.
You look away. You just meant to look respectfully. You hope you did. You didn’t linger, did you? If you did, it was just out of appreciation. Admiration. She’s beautiful. That much you can glean from an initial glance. Not enough to mark her in your mind, but enough to make her relevant in your field of view.
You’re an idiot. You look again.
Honey blonde hair, dark at the roots. Freshly threaded brows. Slender nose—sharp at the tip, softer around the sides. Oval-framed visage that looks soft upon a caress but sharp upon provocation. Lower lip so plump you forget she has two to form the curve of her smirk.
But really. What catches you are her eyes.
Because they’re staring right at you now.
You look away. For good this time. You’re certain because you push off the wall and walk a few steps away from your initial perching position. Not stopping until you’re sure that she isn’t looking at you anymore
You brush past a pair of heaving girls rushing to the toilets to vomit.
Nope, still looking at you.
You lean over a group of college kids playing King’s Cup and ask them how their night is.
Nope, still looking at you.
You run a hand across the bar counter to inspect its cleanliness.
Nope, still looking at you.
She won’t fucking stop looking at you. And you hate it.
Because you can’t stop looking at her either.
She shifts. Hands behind her head, hips swaying in a figure eight to the music. You’re still pissed at Hajoon, but you have to thank him for the boppy track he’s put on now. It makes her thrust her elbows out. Side to side. Doing a little spin. And when she comes back around, she smirks at you again.
It’s only then that you scan the rest of her. Filling out the form of her figure.
Buckled corset tight around her petite frame. Red pants dotted with silver buttons that you just know jingle with even the slightest movements. Nails painted silver. Armband dripped in gold. Boots that cheat her height and allow her to look taller men in the eye.
But really. What catches your attention this time isn’t in the seen. It’s in the unseen.
At the swell around her cleavage that’s threatening to spill out.
You look away. But you’re not sure you’ve done so because you can still see her in your peripheral. Like what happens when you stare at the sun for too long like a dumbass and it imprints its afterimage so fucking deep into your retinas.
You move over to the receiving area where there’s still a line steadily being processed by your diligent staff. A pair of bouncers recognize you and one of them dips their shades to greet you. You hang around them for a moment. Cross your arms. Return to the crowding dance floor. Let out a sigh.
Holy shit she’s moving towards you now.
One guy’s blatantly looking down her top. Another’s grinding against her. But she pushes past them, body still enslaved by the beat. But honing in on you like a beacon.
You make the mistake of looking her in the eyes again. She smirks wider. Like she’s got you in her clutches with a lasso, she shimmies through the sweaty bodies around her until she’s parted from the crowd.
You snap behind your back, and time pauses.
You scan the room.
Wide hips flaring out of the confines of her fitted leather pants. Gait so resonant you can almost hear its cadence amidst the blasting music. Face dyed a myriad of colors, but her expression remains unchanging.
“Are you just going to keep staring?”
It didn’t work.
She’s right in front of you now. Three steps away. You fail to realize it until she points it out. “Not much of a dancer?”
“I dapple. Just not tonight. Just not here.”
“I’ll only believe it when I see it. Too pompous to join the crowd? Are we not good enough for you?” she remarks, voice lilting like a tease towards the end.
“Got business to attend to—always. Can’t mix work and play.”
“Didn’t seem that way when you were eye-fucking me just now.”
The bouncers on either side of you flinch. You can tell because of the way these two burly buffoons fucking twitched. She can tell too because she’s two steps away now and pressing the matter still.
“I wasn’t eye-fucking you. Just patrolling. Just work.”
“Is your job supposed to be undressing wasted girls like me in your mind? You’re doing a terrible job then. I’m pretty fucking wasted right now, but I don’t feel very naked.”
“You’re not—.”
She’s one step away now.
“Hm?” she raises, and so does her brow. “Too on the nose for you? Or are you still ‘working’?”
Her hand finds its way to your chest as she presses into your clavicle, wiping away that one bead of sweat that rolls down your blazer. Your eyes never leave her face. Even as she tugs on and adjusts the rise of your collar. “What’s it going to take to be supervised by you? Directly.”
You tilt your head to the side. When that isn’t enough, you step as far back as you can before bumping into another velvet cord. Then you sigh. “Respectfully. Hands off. I’m an employee here.”
Her eyes widen like she just caught something. “Part of the background? Boring. Someone like you being off-limits—such a waste.”
You don’t know how to respond to that. That’s fine. Because she doesn’t let you. “Is it company policy to not mingle with your clientele? I just saw you getting real handsy with a group of girls earlier. You’re making me jealous just thinking about it.”
The implication of that statement is something you just keep to yourself.
Before she can move closer, you hold your hand out. “If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know. But this?” you pause, pointing your finger to her then back to yourself. “Not a chance.”
She clicks her teeth and backs away too. Finally. But her eyes are what do you over. She’s rolling them at you. Mockery. Frustration. Disappointment. “You’re no fun. Keep eye-fucking me then. Hope you get a kick out of it.”
Before you know it, she seamlessly rejoins the crowd, dancing with the masses once again.
What the fuck was that? What the fuck just happened?
You don’t know. You’re not sure.
All you can think of is finishing your patrol so you can get some rest. You want to make sure everything’s in order for the evening before you leave the rest to your second. So you continue on your nightly routine. Just like nothing happened.
But god forbid this woman is making it difficult for you to pretend like nothing happened.
You can’t explain it.
When you patrol the lower tables—the ones closer to the dance floor—you see her spiraling around the edges of the crowd. Not really lingering too long at any one spot. Like she’s trailing you. Following you. You had to make one of the customers repeat themselves when you got distracted by the way she ‘fixed’ her top, flashing you enough skin to imagine the rest of what’s hidden beneath it.
Over by the entrance, while you were in the middle of resolving a dispute over fake I.D.s, she was hovering behind you. At a safe distance. Behind the barriers and bouncers. She’s watching you work. Observing how you tell someone off without needing to raise your voice. Smirking at you, twirling her hair, staring at you as she’s playing thoughts in her mind that you can only assume are no good.
Even when you sneak away to relieve yourself at the staff washroom. The moment you come back out, she’s sipping on a glass of whiskey. Staring daggers at your surprised face. With that gaze of hers that short-circuits your brain. She doesn’t say anything. Just sips. Just drinks. Just relishes in your flushed state as you hurry yourself away from her.
She’s not even meddling. She’s not even provoking.
She’s just there.
She’s going around you, but god does it feel like you’re the one orbiting her. Because this woman knows she’s got you.
She’s got you good.
“Anything else I missed? I’ll leave the cleanup and closing to you. Like always,” you tell your second, who’s already writing things down on his notepad. “And Minho, please, for the love of god, will you stop wearing those ridiculous ties?”
Minho peeks up from his sheets and pokes the yellow rubber-ducky tie with his pen. “This? My mother bought it for me, boss. It’d be a waste not to wear it.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “At least wear it somewhere else. Well—whatever. Before I go, make sure to keep an eye out on Table Nine. Got a feeling they’re runners—.”
“Boss!”
The beckon rings like a siren. You register it immediately and are ready to strafe past Minho when you see one of the serving staff runs up to the both of you. Panting. Completely out of breath. “Boss, there’s … ha … there’s a commotion on the dance floor!”
Your eyes first dart over to Hajoon. But oddly enough, he’s not trying to hit on anyone again this time. Instead, he’s watching something. Watching someone.
In fact, everyone on the dance floor’s watching someone. Noticeably so now that you realize there’s a small circular parting in the center of the crowd.
You follow the staff over and freeze at the outer edge of this commotion.
You see her.
She’s dancing like she owns the place. Like she owns the dance floor. Hajoon’s got his hands on the beat, but she’s got her hands all over her body. She’s being a diva right now. Bathing in the glow of the lights shining down on her. Feeling herself. Basking in the attention that’s being dripped all over her.
She ropes in one guy at a time. Dancing with him. Swaying next to him. Grinding on him. She slides her back up and down the front of one of them. Wraps her arms around the neck of another. One of the poor blokes makes the mistake of moving in to kiss her. She immediately bites his lip and gets a kick out of his pained reaction.
Your fist is clenching tightly by your side, and you’re not sure why.
Before you know it, you’re pushing—no, shoving—people aside just to get to the center of it all. Just to get to her. Tugging on the length of your necktie, when you make it to the lady in question, you hold out an arm to stop the next guy from entertaining her, and just grab her by her arm.
“What the hell are you doing?” you demand. She reeks of alcohol and sweat. “You’re drunk. You’re making a scene.”
“Yeah? Is that not allowed?” she prods, stepping closer to you. She shrugs your grip off and crosses her arms. “Didn’t think it wasn’t, but hey, made you look didn’t I? I knew it was the only way to grab your attention.”
You glance past her. To Hajoon. The man scrambles for his headphones and changes up the music, inviting everyone to return to the dance floor and party like there’s no tomorrow once again. Back to the regular routine of things.
But you don’t let up on her.
And she doesn’t let up on you.
Because her hands are now resting on your waist.
“Saw you talking to shorty over there,” she announces, pointing at Minho with her lips. “Thought you’d be off the clock now, manager. Didn’t think you’d eye-fuck me again that quickly though.”
“I was not eye—.”
She pulls you in. Whether it’s with her hands or with her gaze, you can’t tell. “Just shut up and dance.”
You indulge her.
You lied. You’re not a very good dancer. And she notices this. She leads you both. At times she lets you do your stupid little shindig while she’s busting out a move. Other times she’s holding you by the wrist and guiding your hands to either her shoulders or her hips.
And you’re starting to come undone.
How could you not?
Every run of her fingers across one of your shoulders to the other. Every bump of her butt against your crotch. Every nick of her knee against your thigh. She’s toying with you. She’s building you up. Leading you on. Because she knows.
She knows you can’t do a single damn thing about it.
You don’t keep track of time. But after what feels like an hour of working the dance floor with you, she finally pulls away enough to give you your own personal space again. She walks you over to the wings to where her table is. Table Twenty-Three.
First thing you see are two couples engaged in a contest to see who could be the sloppiest when making out.
“Don’t mind them. They won’t get naked. At least, they told me this isn’t that kind of club,” she explains. She casually reaches over one of the couples, who you are pretty sure are sneaking in some fingering on the couch, and grabs one of their drinks. She sniffs it. She reels. But she downs it anyway.
“Are we done here? Had your fill yet?” you ask. Unsure of where you’re trying to go with that.
“Yeah. Be seeing you.”
What?
You swear you almost hear yourself say that out loud. You don’t know what face you’re making, but it must be an entertaining one—for her at least.
“Was fun. Maybe we’ll come back here again.”
She followed you around. She stalked you like a hawk. She dragged you into her little shenanigans in the middle of work. All for this? All for nothing?
It was your turn to feel dumbfounded tonight. Dumbfounded because you were a fool for expecting anything bigger to have come out of this.
You bit your tongue enough to bleed iron into your tastebuds before nodding stiffly. “Right. Right, be seeing you.”
To add insult to injury, she waves at you with a smirk as you lug your body towards the staff exit.
---
“Boss, Table Eleven’s going red.”
You know that signal. You know that queue.
In moments, you’re already halfway towards said table, when your shoes screech against the polished floor. Stopping yourself.
“Hm? Care to join us?”
It’s her again.
Honey blonde hair pulled behind her. Black ribbed plunging half-sleeve top baring a fraction of her upper midriff. Bandeaux bra on full display. Exposed skin moist from collecting the condensation dripping from her glass.
You clock the empty vodka bottle on the table. You scan the eight different people gathered around the table with her. You take note of her challenging half-lidded stare.
“If you’re done with that drink, I’m taking it.”
“Tsk, we’re just playing spin the bottle. Is that not allowed?”
“Your little ‘game’ is disturbing everyone else. Take a hint,” you warn her, eyes fixed on her face that remains unflinching before you.
“It’s a fucking club. Of course we’ll be loud. Don’t want your customers having fun, manager-nim?”
The way she addresses you makes your blood boil all the more. “Give me that—.”
She beats you to it and spins the bottle. Lo and behold it lands with the snout facing you. The bottom facing her.
Smirking, she taps her lip with her newly painted red nail. “Five shots of scotch. In a row. Think you can do it?”
The crowd around her table is clapping and leering at you. But you ignore them. “I’m not playing—.”
She loops an arm around you and blinks innocently. Twice. For just a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be the life of the party? Let’s get this night started properly. Shots! Shots! Shots!”
They begin to mimic your chant. “Shots! Shots! Shots!”
The other tables begin to chime in. “Shots! Shots! Shots!”
Soon even some of your serving staff applaud you. Egg you. Even when you give them the eye.
You glance at the bottle of scotch conveniently already at the table. You glance at the clubgoers surrounding you now. Then you glance at her.
“I don’t drink. Not anymore.”
You get booed in a heartbeat.
Shrugging, she dips down and fills up one of the shotglasses for herself. “Suit yourself.” Before you know it, she’s already drank one. Then two. Then five. All down the hatch.
Just as you are about to leave this brewing cesspool, someone tugs you from behind.
You’re not one to take that lying down. Ready to unwrap your arm from them and shove them to the ground. But the lightness of the grip is what throws you off.
And it’s enough hesitation for her to pounce on your lips and kiss you.
You don’t pull away. You can’t.
She’s holding your face. Both hands. One on each cheek. When you tug upwards, she follows, moaning into your mouth. But where you expect her bare tongue, something liquid is in its place. When you realize what’s happening, it’s already too late.
She just snowballed five shots of scotch right into your mouth.
When the taste of liquor hits your tastebuds, something fires in your brain. Something reflexive. Something ingrained. You rip your lips from her and spray out the alcohol. The two dudes behind you are fucking pissed, but you apologize sincerely and call for some staff to help clean the mess.
Returning to her, you grab her by the elbow. “I told you I don’t fucking drink—.”
“That wasn’t a drink. That was a taste,” she corrects you, smirking once more. Using that fucking gaze on you again. “Taste of me. Don’t get too drunk now.”
You’re unable to react. You let her kiss you once more on the lips and giggle before rejoining her posse for the night.
“Are you alright, boss? You look—.”
“Don’t just stand there, Minho. Get me some damn water,” you snap as you feel the liquor burning your tastebuds still. Thank god it didn’t drip into your throat. A taste was more than enough to give you goosebumps.
As Minho disappears towards the bar, you just watch as this woman pours cognac down her throat. Straight from the bottle. While looking at you.
With a smirk.
“B-Boss …? Boss!”
“What is it newbie? I don’t have all night,” you huff at the bouncer. You could have been nicer to him. Nicer about it. But doing arithmetic manually on a calculator and a physical spread sheet for hours would put anyone in a fuckass mood. “What do you need from me?”
“S-S-Someone’s um … stripping—.”
You don’t even have to ask for context.
As soon as you burst out from the break room, your eyes immediately train on the sound booth. On Hajoon.
On her.
You claw through the crowd. Is it to get closer to the unfolding scene? Is it to stop it? You’re not sure. You don’t fucking know. All you can picture are the things that will spread about your club after tonight if this continues.
When you make it to the divider, the newbie watches your back as you jump over the cord. From the first few steps up towards the elevator platform alone, you get a clear view from the side.
The twin-tailed little brat’s undressing in the fucking DJ booth. And Hajoon’s just letting her. Of course he fucking would.
Her tail point fur jacket hits the floor first. Pools at the ankles like shorn elegance. Pure irony though given the debauchery that persists to unfold. Her hair whips forward. Then back. She’s dancing in place like she’s boxed in a tight circle. Hands draw forwards and slide down Hajoon’s chest as she sways downwards herself too. When she shoots back up, she makes the extra effort to jut her butt out.
If you didn’t have any self-control, you would have slapped the fucking tease out of her voluminous rump.
It’s a miracle they’re still contained within her shorts. Those things are cut closer to her crotch than her knees. You cut her some slack. It compliments her plain white crop top that exposes the expanse of her navel.
Your focus drifts to the jewel affixed above her belly button. Sparkling. Beckoning to you.
When you glance back up again, she’s caught you once more. “Eye-fucking me up close this time? Get in line, manager. This one’s a public show.”
Hajoon notices your arrival and lifts up his beer, nearly fucking spilling it on his setup like an idiot. “Yo, bossman! Where’d you pull this baddie? She said you knew each other? You two banging or something?”
But the woman between you both hushes him with a finger and whispers something you can’t hear from all the music. Hajoon licks his lips when she pulls away and winks at you. “Fine shit, man. Fine fucking shit! Let’s turn this party up!”
As the tempo of the song speeds up, so does her dancing. She’s got a way with her body—you’ll give her that. Even as you walk back down, you can’t help but take a peek. When you do, you see her flex and swirl that torso of hers like she was goddamn built for it.
She locks eyes with you a final time before digging her thumbs into the hem of her top. “Think you can handle this?”
Just when you lunge for her, she chuckles and puts her hands back down. “Did you really think I was a slut? Disappointing. And here I thought you cared about me more than that.”
Clenching your teeth so hard they could shatter, you pick her coat off the floor and dump it in one of the chairs behind Hajoon. The last thing you see before heading back is her playing up the role she’s taken on for the night and acting as Hajoon’s eye candy for his set.
She manages to catch you in the crowd and licks her lips, biting her tongue midway.
“Fucking brat.”
“Fuck me—boss!”
You quite literally snap your pen. The ink fountains forward but you’re faster. You wrap it up in some of your old quarterly reports. Cursing under your breath, you dump the blotting mess beneath you and drag your fingers across your face. “What the fuck is the problem this time, Minho?”
“It’s her. Again.”
That’s not possible. It’s almost five in the morning now. Club’s been closed for an hour at least. What the hell was she still doing here?
No matter. You push out of your chair. Don’t bother to put your blazer back on. Just lower your head and allow Minho to accompany you to the scene of the next crime.
You hear it before you see it—the sound of glass breaking.
Then it all comes into view.
The closing staff standing frozen outside the bar. The three bouncers exchanging looks at each other in an attempt to figure out what to do. Hajoon who’s finishing his order of truffle fries while recording the whole thing.
Not a single one of them dared to stop her.
“All of you. Out. Now.”
Your command echoes throughout the now empty club. All eyes are on you as you tug on your tie and tilt your head to the side. Vein along your neck threatening to pop. “I said. Out. Now.”
“Manager, she’s been causing—.”
You raise your palm up to one of the bouncers. “I’ll take it from here. Leave closing to me. And Minho, go take our closing staff out for some fish sticks. Use my card.”
“Boss …”
You toss him your credit card and gesture for them to get the hell out of here. They look confused. They look concerned. But by the end of it, they all feel relieved. Even Hajoon whose set finished earlier tonight tagged along with your staff to freeload. You let it slide. You have bigger fish to fry.
And she reminds you of this with the sound of another glass item shattering across the floor.
“Oops. That one was accidental this time.”
You saunter over to the bar and lean on the counter. Arms folded against each other. Eyes trained on this little goddamn devil in front of you.
Her outfit surprises you.
You thought you had her figured out. The more comfortable she got here at SAXO, the less you’ve seen her wear. But tonight, she’s all covered up. Long sleeve leopard print. Matching ankle length tights. Pink nails. Some glitter sprinkled across her eyes just above her splash of blush. For someone’s who’s been clubbing all night, she looks like she just came fresh out of the shower.
She smirks. “You just love eye-fucking me, don’t you?”
“Cut the charade. It’s just you and me. What the fuck is your deal?”
She raises a brow. Runs a finger across the convex surface of a bottle of Patron in her hands. Contemplating. “Does it always have to be something in here?”
“There’s always something with you.”
You could never understand her. Even if you tried. She does everything she can think of to be an absolute thorn in your side. But she never acknowledges you beyond the provocation. She pushes and pulls. But she never reaches. And you’re not sure what irritates you more.
The fact that she keeps doing this each night. Or the fact that you want her to reach you.
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t enjoyed the attention.
Looking at that flirty smile of hers that dances dangerously across the boundary of your tolerance, you can’t help but acknowledge it. She’s played you. She’s played you good. Attention-seeking. Body-chasing. Mind-filling. Every night—every fucking night—she’s on your mind. What she’s up to this time. What she’s wearing. If she’s looking at you. Looking for you. Testing you. Teasing you. Tempting you. You’ve thought about what it might be like if you weren’t surrounded by other clubgoers. What you might say to her if you had the chance to pull her away in private. What you might do to her if you were away from any prying eyes.
And now, as you’ve said, it’s just the two of you. There was no need to pull on any acts.
That’s what you want to believe, at least. It’s immediately shattered once you see the bottle smash onto the floor. Spilling alcohol across her boots.
“Oopsie,” she utters without a hint of fucking remorse. “That didn’t taste good anyway. I’m doing you a favor.”
As she reaches out for another battle, you exhale roughly. “What … What do you want from me?”
“Want? From you?” she repeats, swinging her next victim between her knuckles. Just waiting for one wrong move to let it slip and shatter. “You’re already doing what I want you to.”
“Which is—?”
Shatter. “Entertaining me.”
She doesn’t even pick up the bottles anymore. She’s just flicking them off the shelves.
“Ooh, expensive.”
Down goes the Armand de Brignac.
“Expensive?”
Along with the Magnum Moët & Chandon.
“And oh, most expensive.”
And so does the Rosé 1959 Dom Pérignon.
“You see what I mean?” she spins around and leans against the remaining shelf with alcohol still lining the higher echelons. Prodding at you as if you’ve already proven her point. “This is why I’m having so much fun with you. You can’t do anything to me, can you? You’re not allowed to.”
“You just manage—.”
Your hand’s already gripping her wrist. Pinning it to the corner ledge. She gasps. And for the first time since you’ve met this lady, she flashes you a look you’ve never seen before.
Fear.
“You,” you pause, trying to control your breathing. Your eyes are scrambling for something to look at but they’re stuck on her. Just her. “Do you know … how much fucking money … all of this … is going to cost me?”
“H-Hey … relax. If it’s really that much—?”
“Don’t try to slither your way out of this one. I asked you a question. Answer.”
She trembles. You can feel it in her pulse. You can sense it as you tighten your grip. “I-I … I don’t. But I swear, I didn’t think—.”
“What? You didn’t think it was ‘this serious’? Thought you were still ‘playing games’ with me?” you retorted, scoffing mid-sentence. “Where the fuck have you been living all your life? Under a rock? Top shelf liquor is so fucking expensive to import. I bet recovering all of this is going to cost more than the clothes you’ve been wearing here, or the fucking dingy ass pad you live in.”
“Stop, I-I-I was just—.”
“Just? Was just? Just having fun with me?” you fill in. “I run a fucking business here. And god forbid, you have been really bad for it. Just fucking terrible. This?”
You gesture to the liquor seeping into the cracks between cabinets and the counter. Mixed scents of shattered spirits wafting between the two of you.
“This is the last straw. I’m—.”
“Going to punish me?”
What was that? What the fuck was that?
There it goes again. The glint in her eye. The pull of her lips. That snarky tone of hers when she says, “Going to write me off? Report me to the police? Call my parents or something?”
It’s almost like she’s nudging you. Pushing you past your bloody fucking limits.
Like she’s challenging you.
Like she’s enjoying it.
“Go on. What are you going to do with me? Squeeze an apology out of me? Fine me? Blacklist me?” she lists, shaking off your grip when she knows you’re stunned and crosses her arms. Just under her bust. Highlighting it. “Go ahead and try. I fucking dare you.”
“Make me.”
There’s at least seven different things you could have done in this moment. Each likely more effective than the last as you play them out in your head. But when you’re face to face with her like this, bodies inching closer to one another, you can’t fucking take it anymore.
It’s time to show her who’s in charge.
It’s time to show her her place.
“Strip.”
“What?”
“Don’t make me say it again,” you press, stepping so close to her that your feet are now directly parallel to hers. “You’re right. Maybe I’m here as your ‘entertainment’. Then if so, let me ‘entertain’ you some more. Could bring you to the station down the street. Could make you call your lawyer or something. Could even just ban your sorry ass from SAXO myself. But that’s no fun, is it?”
“Strip. Now.”
Her mouth is taut. But it quivers. And you catch that.
“Ya … Isn’t this harassment, manager? I don’t think you’d want a case against you and your little club now, would you?” she tries to bargain.
But you see through her chicanery and subterfuge. “After all you’ve done, this is child’s play. Strip. I’m not repeating myself again.”
Growling, she rolls her eyes and pushes you away. “Fine. Pervert. But I’m not doing it with you around—.”
“Oh, you will.”
You turn around only to remove yourself from the slimy pools of spilt liquor on the floor. Vaulting over the bar counter. Dusting your hands off. You face her again. Arms crossed. Eyebrow cocked. Waiting.
“Are you for real right now? Are you fucking serious?”
“I am. You love putting on shows, don’t you? Then put on a show. Just for me,” you fired back. Smirking. “What? You’re the one who said I kept ‘eye-fucking’ you. Shouldn’t you have expected this much from me? Strip.”
You see her knuckles go white. But you also see her mask crack.
Then you see her do as you’ve told.
She whips her hair back. Of course she does. This little princess always has to have her hair fixed. The bangle earrings she’s wearing doesn’t make it any easier for her either. Digging her thumbs against her ribs, the same way she did on the night she got into the sound booth, slowly, she starts to peel upwards. You watch as the cloth of her patterned print top tantalizingly comes undone. And you get an unfiltered view of her compliance.
She hooks the hem of her top around the back of her neck, flashing the elastic band she’s using for a bra. “There. Happy?”
You shake your head. “I said strip.”
“You said strip, and I did. This is the best you’re getting out of me—.”
“How much do you make in a day?”
“What? I’m not some fucking hooker,” she chimes. And you appreciate the sass now. Because the raise of her voice makes the soft spots of her body ripple ever-so-slightly.
“Never said that. I just asked—how much do you make in a day.”
“I don’t work.”
You chuckle again. “Then you’ve got no frame of reference for how much this all costs. How much is your top.”
“My top?”
“Yeah, how much is it.”
“I don’t fucking know. Just bought it off an app. Around ten thousand won I guess?”
“A shot of that first bottle you broke costs six times that amount. A bottle can last about twenty shots. Each. Is the math computing?”
You see the exact moment the life drains from her eyes when the math, indeed, computes.
Whistling, you click your teeth to draw her attention back to you. “Strip. Before I start thinking stripping isn’t enough.”
She’s moving. She’s stripping. But she’s doing so in a way that feels different. As her top fully comes off, she doesn’t throw it. She folds it on the countertop. Not minding your direct view from above her bra. She does the same for the tights, peeling them off like a second layer of skin, folding it on top of the former.
The fur belt around her waist remains for a while. She’s using it to cover her crotch. And you realize why.
She’s wet.
“Do … do I have to also … the underwear …?”
“What part of ‘everything’ do you not understand?” you clarify mockingly. You know she’s not getting away without undressing all the way. She knows it too. “If you don’t hurry up, my second might come back to check on me. Want him to see you like this too?”
She glowers. Even though it’s a lie. “Fuck you.”
The panties come off first. Only because the belt’s in the way. It stretches against her ankles like a spiderweb when she tries to move away from the puddle she’s standing on. You catch a glimpse of the inside. It’s darker and more prominent—the stain.
Leaning forward, she holds the counter for support before grunting to take off her panties fully now. Folds it beneath her previous layers.
“Now the bra.”
“I fucking know,” she grunts back. You know she doesn’t need a reminder. But you let her know anyway.
Her bra isn’t the usual. Not a hook type. Not a strap type. Not even a clip type. It’s an elastic type. Just comes over the chest. Supports it naturally as gravity does its thing. Your knowledge of women’s undergarments is proven almost immediately right as you watch in utter astonishment at the way her swell of a chest comes loose from her final piece of clothing.
The recoil into one another. The ripples. The gentle sag.
You hate to admit it. But it’s fucking perfect.
She forgets to put it aside. To fold it. She just tosses it to the counter because she’s got her hand and arm across her bare tits now. You let her. Because this allows you to dip forward and tug on the long end of her belt.
“Hey, what—?”
“Walk with me. Walk to me.”
You tug on her belt. Lead her like it’s a leash. And she follows. She resists a bit, and you feel it against the tightness of the garment. But you tug back and she winces. Then moves again. Until she’s all the way out of the bar area and is now hovering next to you by one of the tables in the wings.
You clear the surface of the sturdy glass and gesture to it. “Get on.”
She doesn’t question you. Not while she’s naked. Not when you hold her dignity in her hands. In order to mount the table, she had to let go of her chest, and when she lays down, you finally get to see it.
Her full form. Naked. Unadorned. Natural. All of it for you to see.
All of it laid bare.
“God, if you weren’t such a fucking brat, you’d be perfect,” you whisper. You mean it.
Her smooth pale skin. The shape of her chest and the sheen of sweat across it. The quiver of her thick full lips. The spread of her legs. The clasp of her thighs against each other. The bare and kempt state of her nether bits.
They’re all right there. Laid out on the table. On full display.
Just for you.
“Yeah? Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told me that,” she replies. Halfway between a smirk and scorn. You then realize you had said it out loud. She chuckles. Gestures to you with a finger. A hither-to motion coupled with that stare of hers again. Those ‘make me’ eyes. That ‘fuck me’ gaze. “Gonna do something about it? Or is that against company policy again, manager?”
Oh she’s asking for it now.
You loosen your tie. You kneel on the table. She looks frightened for a moment—worried the glass might break. But you prove her otherwise when you lean forward between her legs so your face is level with hers now. Hovering above it.
“I’ll show you what a fucking tease like you deserves.”
You press your lips against her and feel no resistance. Instead, she welcomes you. Her own soft hydrated folds part for you. Nibble on you. Suck you in. Her tongue is a welcome mat that unfolds into a stretch of red carpet for your own tongue to gloss and strut all over. She whimpers and moans the moment she gets her own tongue caressed in velvet. But she doesn’t complain. Doesn’t react.
Doesn’t resist.
Her hands come around your neck now as she pulls you further in, and you take this opportunity to get a little handsy yourself.
You go for her tits. God, how could you not go for her tits?
You’re cupping them. Fondling them. You know better than to just squeeze them like a child—no. You lift them up. You caress down the inner curve of each, polishing down and along her cleavage. If you weren’t kissing her right now, you’d have smothered your face between them. Sniffing them. But you save that for later. For now, you register the sensation of her in your head.
Hefty. Heavy. Fucking heavenly.
She gasps sharply when your right pinky hits her left nipple. You notice when you peek open an eye that she’s hard. Both of them are. Both of her nipples. They’re stiff and rounded little peaks that tempt you to oblivion. So you succumb.
One pinch and she forgets how to kiss you. Another and she’s gasping for air, breathless in your clutches. A third and she’s arching her back upwards.
“Fuuuuck,” she groans, her face getting flushed. “Do that again …”
You press your pointer to her nipple. Thumb on the other side. Wind her up by rubbing them together. Before pinching on the supple tip and pulling it upwards. Polishing it. Relishing it. Treasuring it.
She shudders more intensely now. You do the same to the other side and she’s willingly showing you the column of her neck as her body lifts from the table. “God … shit, you’re … you’re actually good with the—AHHH!”
You lick her neck.
One stripe. Two. Slow. Tracing over the parts that make her quiver. Prolonging over the parts that make her moan. You lick upwards to her chin. Over her lips. And press a kiss on them before repeating the cycle.
Her eyes flutter open and close, unable to focus. Whenever your gazes meet, she doesn’t turn away. She stares deeper into your soul. The facade from earlier having crumbled completely.
She reaches for your chest. However she can in this tightened position. She runs her hands across your pecs, down to your abdomen, where she then hitches her fingers into your waist and belt, and unbuckles it.
While you’re licking her nipples now. suckling on them, teasing them with the sharp of your tongue alternating with the long flat wall of it, you notice she’s grinding against your thigh. There’s a noticeable dampness. A moisture. Permeating your supposedly waterproof slacks.
You chuckle and bite down on one nipple. And this makes her scream in absolute ecstasy.
One hand moves from your fly to the back of your head, gripping your hair, guiding you to where she wants you to kiss, suckle, and lick across her full fucking tits. The other unzips you. Hastily pushes your pants off. And tries to get you out of your clothes this time. When the back of her palm hits your bulge however, she freezes.
“Wait … wait—NGHHH—stop, I-I want to see this …”
You withdraw from the addiction that are her breasts and wipe the slobber from your lips against the cup of your shoulder. “What?”
“Your dick. I … I just want to see how it looks like, ok …?”
You push up from the table, nearly slipping from how sweaty your palms have gotten, and right yourself so she can sit up against the edge and be leveled with your crotch. Taking a deep breath, she palms over your bulge that’s on the verge of bursting against your boxers.
“Oh. Oh wow, you’re …” she stutters. Fails to find the right words. She looks up at you and blushes. Nothing like the incessant little prick she’s been previously. Instead, she has this yearning look on her. Like she wants to know. Wants to see. Wants to feel.
So you let her.
You don’t even move. You let her do it herself. Nails digging into your waist, prying your black underwear downwards until it slides off. You flick it off once it’s just around one heel, and you present this woman with the unadulterated direct view of your cock.
She doesn’t speak.
Her face hovers closer and closer until her left cheek presses against your semi-erect shaft. “Fuck … you’re bigger than my face … I-I … I don’t know if I can …”
“You’ll work it out. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you manage to.”
She licks her lips and bites her tongue. “Mmmh, yeah? Make me then.”
One palm on the top of her head. Another beneath her chin to angle it the right way. You press your swollen tip against the entrance to her mouth and groan. “Then fucking take it.”
You push open. Burst into the warmth. Get enveloped by the wet velvety walls past her little locked lips.
She whimpers from the first breaching. You take it slow. Knocking down an inch more. Then two. Then she’s taking you halfway in. Then, you’re knocking against her uvula at the back of her throat.
Her neck stiffens rigidly against your persistent hand, but she’s not strong enough to break free even if she tried. So you keep her there. All the way down. Lips forming a tight ring around your base as she gags and hlurks and spews her own saliva out from the small tears in her vacuum sealed mouth. You keep her there for god knows how long, taking pleasure in both the physical sensation of her mouth and the knowledge that you’re finally getting to see her use it for something other than provoking you.
Once her eyes redden beyond reason, you let go of her head, and in moments, she spits you out with a guttural groan as she could breathe properly again.
“Nguh … ha … ha … You fucking psycho … Could have—I could have choked to death on your fucking dick,” she spits out, smudging her hand across her chin. “But … ha … that was good.”
“Good?”
She bites her lip and nods, gripping your cock now with a hand. “Yeah … fucking delicious. I want more.”
“Then suck it like a good little slut.”
Knees spread, bending at an angle now, she closes the gap and licks up from your base to your tip before suckling on the head. Just a few swirls with her tongue. Before she throats your cock herself.
No prompting. No input. No hesitation.
Her head and neck work in tandem to bob her salivating mouth back and forth along the length of your shaft. Lips cruising down your sensitive skin. Tongue flattening and caressing your underside. Whenever her lips meet her hand that’s gripping what she can’t reach, it makes this popping sound that you want to hear more and more.
She’s got no technique. She gags too easily. But fucking hell—the raw and primal energy she exhibits is relentless. It’s fucking intoxicating.
This woman’s moaning in between violent gags, and you notice it whenever her nipples bump into your thighs. You smirk. You push deeper into her, making her eyes go wide, hit the back of her throat, and force her to adjust while sucking you hard and fast still. But this time, her nipples graze your inner thigh each time and you see her eyes melt from their initial panic and hesitation.
When she pulls you out with a loud smacking sound, she’s gasping, panting, eyes wet, lips swollen, but tongue licking up your precum on the tip oh-so-fucking-hungrily.
“You taste so … fucking … good, mmm,” she murmurs, stroking your first few inches, thumb rolling over the head. “Who knew the uptight manager was packing so fucking much?”
“Consider yourself the exception and not the rule,” you barely get out in one full breath as her stroking is getting more intentional rather than lazy.
“Lucky me then,” she mutters, blowing your tip a kiss. She licks up once. Then twice. Then circles around ridge of your head. Playing with it. Toying with you. Face disappearing beneath you as her eyes almost glow. “This is all mine—.”
The doors to the club open and you hear footsteps.
Time doesn’t afford you the luxury to curse. You’re both scrambling. For clothes. For refuge. Anything.
You only manage to put your pants back on. Not even to fix your underwear. Your belt’s not even buckled. When you see who it is walking into the open space of the club, he shoots you a weird look. “Boss?”
“Already done? Thought you’d all be enjoying spending my money a bit more,” you reply, hands in your pockets to stop your slacks from falling down. “Where are the others?”
“Um, home, boss. It’s six in the morning.”
“Right, right.”
“Boss, you haven’t been drinking again, have you?”
You gesture to yourself with a thumb jutting up from your waist. “Me? Why would I be?”
But Minho shakes his head, one hand smoothening the folds of his brown and white checkered tie that reminds you of brownies. “Nothing. Just making sure. Did you manage to sort out the issue? With the lady?”
You nod. That’s all you can give him. That’s all you really want to give him. Because your dick’s being bent at such a bad fucking angle in your tight slacks that you want to just let it free again. It would rather be inside somewhere else too. “Told her off. She got scared easily when I talked to her alone. Said she’ll ‘behave’ more—whatever that means.”
“Is she still here?”
You freeze. Muscles behind your thighs tighten. “She left just after you and our staff did.”
“Then why is her fur thing still there?” he asks, pointing to the peeking belt the woman left behind. If Minho hadn’t pointed it out, you wouldn’t have seen the terrible fucking hiding spot she chose. On all fours behind one of the table’s walled legs. Buck naked.
As Minho approaches, you casually just pick up the belt with your left hand and tug on it. Even when it goes taut. She gasps and shakes her head nervously, but you continue as you stare down at her. “Must have left it. I’ll hand it back when she comes back. I know she will. Leave it to me.”
Those final four words are always enough for your second to stop in his tracks, just a few meters away from your table, and nod. “Got it. You should get some rest too, boss. If, you know, only if you can. I don’t want to pressure you if it doesn’t—.”
“Thanks, Minho. I appreciate it.”
“And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to or share the workload from admin—.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Go home, Minho. I’ll see you tonight.”
He nods and salutes you with three fingers. “See you tonight, boss.”
Once you’re certain your second’s walked out the door and is well beyond the entrance of SAXO, you pinch the bridge of your nose and feel the other end of the belt shifting between your knuckles.
“Is he always like that? Sounds like he sucks your dick more than I do.”
“He’s enthusiastic. He’s a godsend,” you tell her, helping her up to her feet. But you don’t let her go. Not the belt. Not her waist. You pull her in until she’s arching her stomach towards you. Dipping backwards. “And you? I’m not done with you yet. Let’s head to my office.”
Her drool-covered mouth shifts into a smirk. “Yeah? Make me—.”
You crash your lips onto hers and she jumps into your arms. You lift her up by her thighs and support one arm around her lower back as you stumble across the wings of the club to get to the staff-only area.
Kicking the door open, you slip in before it can close. And you feel her tongue lapping at your lips and teeth as she grips your head firmly like she doesn’t want you to leave. Oh boy, do you have no plans to leave her at all.
You hasten down the corridor. Shoulder bumping into the water dispenser. Then, you fish for your keys and unlock your office.
Once you’re both in, your elbow flies to the button and it locks with a click. She pulls away from you and presses her forehead against yours, caressing your cheek. “Hmm, you’re sexy like this. Taking control. Not holding back.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she giggles lowly as you put her on your desk. Her ass is compressing against your laptop as she sits on it. She takes a moment to look around. At the only light hovering above you both. The two sofas on either side of the front of your desk. At the pictures, certificates, and permits on one wall. “Never done this before. Banging in the backrooms of a place.”
“Who said I was going to fuck you?”
She slaps your neck and points her chin at you. “Really? You worked me up like this just to—.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Her sentence is choked off immediately when you rub two fingers against her clit. Her hand instinctively flies to your neck, holding you for support. You rub steadily in circles, occasionally swiveling over the hood, swiping back and forth over her sensitive little button. And which each motion, you watch her progressively soften her face up from a glower, to a whimper, to a moan.
“Yeah—NGHH MHHH—yeah I think I-I like you like this best.”
“Like what?”
She inhales through her clenching teeth. You’re still swiping down her clit with your thumb like you’re flitting through bills at the bar counter during closing time. “L-Like you … hnghh … like you know just what to do.”
“Do I?”
“I-I-I don’t know. I’ll … mmh—give you a point for the kissing, but—.”
She interrupts herself with a moan. The culprit? Your tongue.
“But what?” you raise, licking once more from her entrance all the way to her hood. Her pussy tastes like it smells. Sweaty. Musky. Bit of tang.
Tastes like need.
You feel her fingers knit through your hair. “But … I nghh … but I was the one doing most of the kissing …”
Palms to her thighs, you keep her legs parted. Eyes up to see her reaction. Nose bumping into her button as a tease at first, but now you’re intentionally grinding the pad of it against her clit. Tongue swiping up and down her slit like a credit card that won’t register at the terminal. “Go on. I’m sure I’ve got more points in there somewhere.”
Her fingers dig into your scalp. “I’d … I’d give you two points for all … the fucking things … mmm you did to my … to my tits …”
You kiss her clit. Suckle on it. Pin the hood between your flaps as you peel it back gently with the sharp of your tongue and swirl around her now-exposed button like it’s your favorite M&M. “I sense a but there.”
As you say that, you grip her ass now, finger jammed between her plush bottom and the edge of your laptop. “Continue or I’ll stop.”
“But it’s not fair because—AHHH—because I-I … I’m always sensitive there anyway …”
You figured. But you don’t excuse her.
Your tongue flattens itself against her and does this perpetual motion that makes her feel like you’re never running out of tongue. Up and down. Side to side. Rotations in both clockwise and in reverse. You don’t let up. You never let up. Not until you feel her dribbling that delicious nectar against your chin. Not until she’s moaning up a storm from just your tongue alone. Not until she’s yanking your fucking head lose.
You press your cheek to the side to catch your breath. Rest your tongue. “How many points am I getting for this?”
She dunks your head back against her pussy. “Shut u-up and just eat me … please …”
You smirk. That’s what you want to hear. You slow down your pace though. No longer giving her endless stimulation. No longer lapping her up like a hungry dog. You take your time. Build your pace. Get her closer and closer to that fucking point of no return. But don’t send her off into the deep end.
“What am I doing? Tell me,” you say between medium-paced strokes. Like you’re enjoying a vanilla soft serve. Taking your time. But not letting the cream melt off. “Lost your words? You were so full of them—.”
“You’re teasing me,” she pushes, groaning with her back arching up. “Please … fuck … please …”
“Please what?”
“Please … eat my fucking pussy out like you own it!”
That’s all you need.
You slide your wide palms up from her butt, down her thighs, until they’re behind her knees, pinning both of them next to her face, folding her in half. Her back arches. Just the perfect height for you to lean forward and eat her the fuck out.
“OHHHH FUCK YES! Shit … shit … too much—TOO MUCH!”
But you don’t stop.
Your tongue hones in on her clit. Spreading around your saliva and her juices like a butter knife against smooth toast. She’s trembling, then shuddering, then palpitating. And that’s your queue to keep it steady. You lap at her like you’ve been starving for days. Even when your tongue numbs. Even when your jaw slacks. Even when your mouth is now full of her fucking scent and flavor.
You. Don’t. Stop.
“Fuck—CUMMING!”
She’s a squirter. She’s a goddamn fucking squirter.
When she erupts she glazes your face with a warm spray. It lasts for more than ten seconds. Not stopping until the mess she’s made is dripping down onto your long-sleeves. She can’t breathe. She’s forgotten how to. So you decide to not be a dick and let her have a moment to herself first.
And the moment she’s regained her senses, she looks up at you and sits up. “That … ha … ha … felt amazing. You were amazing.”
But you hold your hand out against her thigh and push her back into that folded ball, knees to her head, ass up in the air.
“What—?”
“Hold it. Hold yourself like that for me.”
Reddened at the face, she nods and tucks her hands beneath her knees to hold herself in position—in offering—for you.
Now that? That is a picture-perfect moment.
You press your thumbs to the highest button. By your neck. You pop it open. You do the same for the second. Pop it open. You have about eight of these. And you take your time with each one. Because you know she’s watching you. Waiting for you. Wishing she could be the one to just rip your polo from you and finally see your bare body. You know that much. You know it because while her mouth may lie, her eyes? They don’t.
Her eyes never lie.
Once you’re finally pulling your arms through your sleeves and dropping the polo on the floor, she groans when she sees what’s underneath. “Are you kidding me? That must be fucking hot in there. You wear that every night?”
You don’t answer. You pull your undershirt off. Shove your slacks down with your boxers. And step forward. Pressing your hands next to her knees, which are next to her face. You lean in and grin. “Manager’s choice.”
You slap your cock against her pussy like you would her lips, and she responds with a tremble. Her pussy has a life of its own. It’s throbbing. Pulsating. Even after an orgasm. Such a fucking greedy little hole on an insatiable little brat. But no matter. You’ll feed her soon enough.
You grind into her. Rub your length against her folds. Poke your tip into her receding belly button. Make her feel the heat between her legs. Giving her the appetizer.
Her eyes flicker with the fire of someone who just can’t fucking wait to burn. But you don’t move. Not much. Not anything beyond some grinding and dry humping. If you can even still call it ‘dry’ at that point. Considering your underside is being conveniently lubricated with each caress of her pussy.
“Are you going to fuck me or just stare me to sleep?” she spits. You have to admire her spunk despite how she’s folded on your desk like this. “Maybe I should call your little errand boy to do me instead. Maybe he won’t waste my time—.”
“Beg.”
She falls silent. Like you pushed the right button.
“No.”
You slap your shaft against her pussy and wake her up. Like you slapped her across the face too. “Beg. Or I can just walk out of here, head to a strip club, and fuck one of the girls there instead.”
“Like hell you could. They don’t allow that.”
“I could. I know people.”
She bites her lip. “Fuck you. I’m not going to beg. You either fuck me or you don’t.”
You pull away. Motioning just the slightest bit for your undershirt. But immediately, you feel a grip against your arm.
“If you put that fucking undershirt back on, I will never forgive you.”
You chuckle. “Yeah?”
She spreads her legs. Wider. Lifts her butt. Higher. Makes it so her body is parted not just in invitation, but also so you can see her face clean down the middle. Past her tits. Resting against the fan of hair draped behind her like a veil.
“Please. Fuck me. Or whatever—.”
You push your dick in.
The enlarged tip meets some resistance already, noted by the pitch of her moan. There’s a ring. A tight fucking ring at the entrance. And for a heartbeat you’re afraid you might rip something. But just like her attitude, her body learns to cave in to you.
You’re in now. Not just the tip that flares at the base of her. Not just the first few inches that part the tight clenching walls of hers. But all the way in.
You’re pressed in so deep that there’s nowhere else to go. And your cock isn’t even fully inside her.
Her eyes widen. Whites glowing as her pupils dilate. “Shit. Fuck. Y-You’re stretching me … T-T-Take it slow—please—AHHH!”
You don’t take it slow.
Pressing her hands firmer against the back of her own knees, using that grip to slide her closer to you. You pull out and then ram your cock deep inside her. Once. Twice. Repeatedly. Faster. Gaining pace. Gaining momentum. Knocking on her womb with everything you’ve fucking got.
And she is just a mess.
“Is this what you fucking imagined when you were messing with me? Is this what you fucking wanted when you were acting like a little brat every night? Answer me,” you demand, pressing into her thighs now, gripping them, pounding incessantly. You haven’t had sex in god knows how long. It only felt right to dissolve completely into the temptation of her. “What? Lost your words?”
Her eyes can’t focus on any one thing, drifting here and there. Mouth agape. Tongue firmly planted between her lips. She’s moaning with each of your thrusts. So you fuck into her faster to hear it. To hear more. You’re immediately rewarded by the change in pitch, the change in frequency, and the added percussive of her tits slapping together.
Sweat dripping down your face and neck, you grip her ass from the side and slap it. Watching the pink blossom. Feeling her skin heat up. You spank her again. And again. And again. Until she finally screams her reply.
“YES! Fuck … fuck … FUCK—YES! Pound me like this. Keep fucking going. NGHHH you’re going to fucking ruin me!”
“Yeah? Then get fucking ruined.”
You press your thumb to her clit and start rubbing it fast. No direction. No patter. Just fast flicks and rotations.
“FUCK! YOU’RE—.”
Smack. Smack. Smack. Your hips meet the swell of her ass as she’s bouncing on your dick. Matching your pace. Meeting each upward thrust of yours with a downwards stroke of hers.
“C-CLOSE! Don’t stop—DON’T FUCKNG STOP!”
You pull her ass off the edge just to knock her knees into your desk. Her eyes are glazed over. Pure fucking bliss. You’re working double time with your heels and your waist to deliver blow after blow deep into her pussy. She’s clenching. Squeezing you. Craving your fucking release. But you don’t stop. You don’t give her that luxury. Not yet.
“Who’s fucking your little pussy right now?”
“MMMH … wh-what—?”
“Answer me! Who’s fucking ruining your little pussy right now?” you grunt, fucking the daylights into her while fiddling with her clit.
“Y-You … AHH!”
“Yeah? And who’s going to make you cum? Answer me.”
There’s less hesitation this time. She spits it out, “You! Fuck ….fuck I-I-I can’t—.”
“And who fucking owns you? Tell me. Say it. Moan it. Fucking scream it—.”
“YOU FUCKING OWN MY PUSSY, MANAGER!”
That was it.
You smudge your thumb against her button, really grind into it. You force whatever remaining strength you have left to thrust specifically upwards into the soft spongy spot that kept making her lose her breath. And you lean in to kiss her. Passionately. Sloppily. Possessively.
Claiming her. As you claim her squirting orgasm all over your cock.
She can’t even moan. Just whimpering into your kiss as she lets go of her shaking legs. You grab her ankles and feel her feet tensing into a point. But she slaps your arms and pulls them closer to her, tugging on them like reigns so she can feel your full erect length stretching her pussy down to the final spasm of her release.
One arm behind her back, holding her close. The other lifting her leg up so her knee’s hooked over your shoulder. One hand gripping her waist. The other palming her clit. You send her into a state of borderline catatonia as she moans and groans and scrambles to try and break free as you overstimulate her senses. But you don’t stop. You chase after your own release while inside her clenching and spasming death-grip of a pussy.
“Going to fucking—.”
“GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING LOAD!”
You burst.
Your whole body’s tensed. Did you know that? You didn’t up until you allowed yourself to let go. To let it all loose. The first shot burns your tip with how rapid it fired out. With how tight she’s clamping around you. The next few shots spread pleasure all over your stomach, racing up your spine, and then finally scattering across the back of your head. The last few shots send your mind into a daze as your first orgasm in arguably months finally escapes you. Finally finds its place. Finally fills her the fuck up so bountifully.
Unsheathing yourself from her warm, sweating, and pulsating orifice, you let your cock droop against your thigh. Semi-erect still. Sensitive to the cool air of your office. Dripping an ounce or two of leftover cum.
And she’s there. On your desk. Unmoving. Naked, heaving mass. Sweaty all over. Arms flayed out to the side. Chest rising and falling unsteadily. Nipples perking from the cool. Ass hanging off the edge. One knee pointed upwards. The other outstretched with her leg to keep her steady.
There she is. Cum dripping out of her like a mark. Like a signature.
There she fucking is. No masks. No games. No resistance.
Completely laid bare.
---
The door to your office bursts open. But you’re not flinching this time. You’re focusing on transferring your hand-written computations from the pile of papers next to you. Digitalizing them.
“What’s the matter this time, Minho? We haven’t even opened yet.”
“Sorry for not knocking boss, but it’s Hajoon. He … let’s just say he ‘pre-gamed’ a little too hard and is um, throwing up all over Table Thirty-One—.”
“Well, clean it up. Do I have to be the one to deal with every single mess?”
Minho’s eyes lower to his polished shoes. “I … You’re right. I’ll handle this myself.”
He pauses. Looks at you now. You know this despite being deep in your sheets. You can see him from your peripheral. “And?”
“Boss, are you … eating something?”
You shrug. “Haven’t had a meal all day. Haven’t caught any shuteye either. All the damages. All the losses. Marking them all down first.”
“Want me to grab some food then before we open? What are you craving?” he asks with a smile. And you can sense that he’s quite hungry too.
“Think that American place a few streets down’s still open? I could go for a sloppy joe right about now.”
He snaps and winks at you. “You got it boss. I’ll be on my—huh. There’s that sound again.”
“Must be a leak in the vents. I’ll call plumbing later.”
Minho grins and nods. “Always one step ahead, aren’t you, boss?”
You nod in reply and return to your sheets. There’s a brief pause. Then, Minho’s finally disappeared behind your closing door.
In moments, her head resurfaces from underneath your desk. Face sweaty, half dripping with cum half drying in it, thick lips pursing and bubbling over the tip of your cock.
“You like it sloppy, don’t you? Mmmmh,” she teases while wiping your thick shaft against her softer features. “Who could have guessed?”
You reach down to lift her chin and say, “If you’re going to pay off your debt, you might as well get back to it. We’re opening in two hours. So unless you want my staff to wonder why one of our clubgoers is walking around ruined like a cheap little whore, I suggest you make it worth my while.”
Giggling with that same teasing energy of hers, but just converted into something else now, she nods and kisses your tip again.
19.3k words
—————
You’ve told him ‘no’ three different ways before you even get in the car.
The first is polite: soft voice, palms up, the whole ‘hey man, appreciate it but I’m good’ routine. The second is practical—readings you haven’t done, an early class you can’t skip again, and a body that reacts to alcohol like it’s a personal insult. And the third is just you finally being honest, because you’ve learned that sometimes, you have to be blunt or he’ll treat your boundaries like polite suggestions.
“I’m not drinking,” you insist, and you’re dead serious about it. “And I don’t want to go clubbing.”
Of course, your friend, Wonbin, casually smiles like you’ve said something adorable.
He’s leaning against the driver side of his car, the kind that looks like it was designed to be photographed outside of hotels. Clean lines, dark paint, the Mercedes silver arrow discreet but still loud. His shirt is black and fitted in a way that makes you suspect it’s luxury just because it refuses to wrinkle. The watch on his wrist is one of those sleek, quiet things that probably costs the same as your tuition down payment, but he wears it like it’s just what happens when you’re born into money.
He doesn’t say your name. He never does when he’s trying to win.
“You never let me do anything nice for you,” he says.
“Because your definition of ‘nice’ is—whatever this is.”
You’re gesturing at the car, the downtown skyline glowing from a distance, the way even the air here smells different already: less cheap food and exhaust, more cologne and polished stone.
Wonbin laughs, low and easy. “Okay, and how many times have I let you do nice things for me?”
“That’s not—”
“Oh, it is.” He pushes off the car and steps closer, grin turning sharp around the edges. “Thesis. Relationship advice. You literally stayed up with me until four a.m. to rewrite my methodology section because I was ‘stressed.’”
“I did not rewrite—”
“You rewrote,” he says, like it’s already settled in court. “And you did it without asking for anything. Not even a ‘buy me coffee.’ You’re allergic to being owed, which is cute, but also annoying. So. Tonight is me returning overdue favors.”
Your own outfit suddenly feels like it’s being judged by the city itself: jeans, sneakers, a shirt you got on sale because it was the cleanest thing on top of the pile, topped by a coat you typically save for campus presentations. You look like a guy who belongs in a library, or a cafeteria line, or sitting on a mono block chair outside a coffee truck scrolling on low battery.
You do not look anywhere like you belong wherever he’s taking you.
“I can’t even afford to breathe in that place,” you tell him. “Also, I’m not drinking.”
He tilts his head, eyes glittering. “Who said you have to drink?”
“You did. You literally said, ‘Let’s go get drinks.’”
“Marketing,” he corrects. “It’s called marketing. I’m selling you an experience. There will be other beverages.”
You glare at him until he sighs dramatically, like you’re the one being difficult.
“Fine,” he starts again. “Let me be honest. This is not a ‘random’ night. I’ve had this date marked for months.”
That's new. Wonbin can be impulsive at times, yes, but he’s also the type to treat his life like a calendar invite: everything curated, everything done with reason.
“You marked a club night on your calendar,” you repeat, just to make sure you've heard him correctly.
“Idol Night,” he answers, and he says it like you should already know what that is. Like it’s a national holiday.
You blink. “Idol—as in—”
“As in yes. K-pop idols.” His smile widens, pleased with himself, like the whole concept was his vision. “And before you start, no, you can’t Google it. You won’t find it. That’s the whole point.”
God, if only you can just eject yourself from his car. You could still walk away the responsible one, the boring one, the guy who goes home and washes dishes and sets alarms like life is a series of small, careful choices. Maybe you can refuse and he’d sulk for maybe an hour and then buy you something as a peace offering and you’d both pretend this never happened.
But then he reiterates, quietly: “You’ve never let me return anything.”
And you hate when he says it, because it’s true. He’s not wrong; you’ve always been the friend who helps and shrugs it off and says it’s fine, and part of you—some tiny, inconvenient part—knows that maybe letting someone do something for you isn’t a crime.
So you exhale, long and resigned to his schedule.
“Fine,” you finally concede. “But I’m leaving early.”
His beam is triumphant. “Perfect. You can leave early. After the performance.”
“You’re negotiating,” you say.
“I’m already winning,” he replies immediately, and opens the passenger door like you’re stepping into a different life for the night.
He slides into the driver’s seat like it’s home. You buckle up like you’re bracing for impact.
As you pull away from the main highway and into the downtown district, the buildings grow taller and shinier and less forgiving. Streetlights reflect off glass walls. The sidewalks are wide, clean, almost sterile—like they’re designed more for walking with purpose than lingering. You pass restaurants with menus you can’t pronounce and storefronts that display a single handbag bathed in spotlight like art pieces in a museum.
Your friend drives one-handed, relaxed. He taps the steering wheel with a ringed finger, humming along to a song you’ve put him on, one of the few things from your world he'll indulge in, and you try not to think about how easy everything looks from his point of view.
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going exactly?" you ask, knowing there's no answer waiting on the other end.
“You’ll see."
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s not supposed to be comforting,” he replies, and then, softer, like he’s letting you in on a secret: “It’s supposed to be special.”
You can't help but snort. “You sound like an ad.”
“I am an ad,” he continues. “For a lifestyle you refuse to try. Tonight, you’re my target market.”
You lean your head against the window and watch the city smear into light. Tell yourself you’ll stay for an hour. 90 minutes, tops. Sip whatever non-alcoholic thing he shoves at you, clap politely, pretend you know what to do with your hands, and then you’ll slip out before midnight, before anyone expects you to be the kind of guy who stays.
Before you start to feel like you belong.
—————
The club is nestled inside a building that doesn’t look it was designed for partying.
There’s no neon sign screaming for attention. No decadent posters. No hourlong or more queue of sweaty people in heels, rushed makeup, and tight shirts. From a distance, it’s almost anonymous: dark facade, clean edges, a discreet entrance framed by a pair of men in black suits who stand too still to be set decoration. Wonbin pulls up without slowing, and the valet steps forward like he’s been waiting specifically for this car.
He gets out first. You follow, and immediately feel underdressed in a way that’s almost physical, like your shirt is suddenly itchy and your sneakers are a joke everyone can hear.
The exchange is smooth, silent, practiced. Wonbin doesn’t even look back as he hands over the keys; he simply turns to you and says, “Don’t look terrified.”
“I’m not terrified,” you lie, feeling the pressure emanating from the guards waiting at the front door.
The reflection in the glossy black of the building’s paneling mirrors an image of a life that clearly doesn't belong anywhere near this place. Your hair looks slightly disheveled from a half-assed comb, your posture looking too careful, your whole vibe screaming tryhard who barely touches grass and takes Overwatch seriously.
Then you glance at Wonbin: perfect fit, crisp lines, hair styled like he woke up exactly like this. He doesn’t carry himself like he’s trying to impress anyone; he carries himself like he owns the world and he’s just letting himself wherever he wants.
One of the suited men nods at him. “Good evening.”
He nods back, casual, like he's greeting you. “Evening.”
There are no ID checks. No public pat-downs. It’s all quieter than that, more private. One of them glances at you, scanning—not rude, not friendly, just assessing—like you’re a piece of luggage he's brought along. Wonbin drapes an arm over your shoulders and steers you toward the entrance with the kind of possession he thinks is funny and would make others feel degraded.
“He’s with me,” he remarks, and the man immediately looks away, as if your status has been decided with his mere word.
Regardless, you step to his rhythm.
Inside, the lobby is dim and smells faintly like expensive candles and exotic perfume. And boy, do they really want to make it appear exclusive.
Floors tiled in black marble. Gold accents. A chandelier that glitters without trying too hard. The music isn’t pounding nor deafening yet like other clubs; it’s a low thrum, a steady heartbeat under the walls, as if the building is keeping its energy contained on purpose.
A woman at a podium smiles at your friend, and her smile changes when she recognizes him: wider, warmer, personal.
“Welcome back," she says.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Wonbin replies, casual.
Her eyes flick over to you, the elephant in the room. “And your guest?”
“He’s family,” he insists, and you almost choke because what the fuck—
But she just nods and grins gently, like that explains everything.
As you approach the elevator, she steps ahead of you, a hand already stretched out with expectance. “Phones, please.”
You hesitate, tugging on your slacks’ pocket.
Wonbin pulls his phone out immediately and places it in a velvet-lined tray that appears like magic on the podium. “House rules.”
The woman offers you the tray.
First you look at your half-sheathed phone, then at Wonbin. This might be your last chance to balk while you still have a pulse.
“No cameras,” he reminds you, lifting a brow. “Strictly. They’ll cover the lenses if you insist on keeping it, but it’s easier to just—comply.”
Comply. That word bothers you more than it normally does. It’s said so casually, like being told what to do is part of the luxury. Like you're about to step into a world not meant for prying or innocent eyes.
Ultimately, you concede and hand over your phone.
The woman slips both phones into slim black pouches that lock with a click you feel in your teeth. She attaches a small numbered tag to your friend’s keyring. “You’ll retrieve them when you leave.”
“See?” Wonbin mumbles as you step forward. “Undocumented. Unrecorded. No paparazzi, no leaks. Everyone here likes their privacy.”
“Or they like doing things they don’t want people to know about,” you reply.
He looks over at you, amused. “Same thing.”
An elevator waits behind another set of doors. A guard taps a keycard. The doors slide open, and you step inside with your friend and two others: a man in a suit that fits like a weapon, and a woman in a dress that looks like it was poured onto her.
Nobody makes small talk. Here, noise feels like a crime.
The elevator rises without fanfare. With each passing number on the panel, your stomach does that little drop it does when you realize you’re somewhere above your pay grade.
When the doors open again, the club unfolds like a hub for some kind of top secret gathering.
It’s not one room, but a series of spaces, each more controlled than the last. The hallway is lined with dark velvet. A lounge is lit by low amber lamps. There's a bar that gleams like a supercar showroom. In the surrounding areas, private booths are separated by sheer curtains that hide faces but not silhouettes.
And beyond it all, past another set of doors—you see the main hall.
It’s a wide, tiered space with a stage at the far end, framed by gold trim and dark screens. Lights hang overhead like suspended constellations. Tables circle the dance floor, each one stocked with bottles that probably cost more than your monthly allowance. More importantly, the people here are dressed like they’re attending a proper event and not spending a casual night out: businessmen decked out in watches that catch the light when they lift a glass, women with jewelry that sparkles like it’s breathing. Young men with perfect hair and bored expressions, rich kids close to your age with sharp smiles and soft hands, the kind who treat money like background noise. Celebrities you recognize but can’t place fast enough, their faces half-hidden in shadow, notable figures who have no business being here, whose presence is its own scandal.
You pause at the threshold because your brain is trying to process the idea that a place like this exists in the same city where you buy street food with coins and complain about traffic like it’s a personality trait.
Of course, Wonbin is familiar around these parts. He moves through the place like it’s his own living room.
A staff member approaches immediately: black uniform, earpiece, posture trained to look attentive without being intrusive.
“Table for two,” he says to the guy, and he doesn’t even have to show anything. The staff member already knows. Already gestures.
You follow, trying not to look like you’re staring at anything for longer than a few seconds.
“Can we sit somewhere—less—” you suggest, but the words gradually die in your mouth.
“Less what?” he asks.
“Less visible,” you force out, almost choking.
Wonbin laughs. “You’re adorable.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the answer."
Wonbin leads you to a table with a clear view of the stage, close enough that you could see facial expressions, but far enough that you’re not in the splash zone of attention.
You sit carefully, like the chair might charge you for being nervous. A server appears with menus that feel too heavy for what they contain. Wonbin doesn’t bother to open his.
“Whiskey,” he says, having already made his order the moment he took his first step inside. “Neat.”
You open yours, eyes skimming past prices you refuse to read fully because they’ll insult you for simply existing.
“And for you?” the server asks.
You look up, avoiding eye contact. “Um—soda?”
Wonbin's mouth twitches. The server doesn’t blink. “Certainly. Any preference?”
“Whatever’s—normal,” you answer, immediately regretting saying it because what does that even mean here.
The server nods like 'normal' is a brand. “Of course.”
When the server leaves, Wonbin leans back and stretches his arm over the back of his chair, relaxed. He looks at you like you’re tonight's entertainment.
“See? No drinking required,” he says.
“You’re drinking.”
“I’m not you,” he replies.
You glance around again. The room is full, but it doesn’t feel crowded. The sound is controlled, like the club has decided exactly how loud the world is allowed to be. Elsewhere, conversations hum. Glass clinks softly. A laugh bursts somewhere and gets swallowed by velvet.
“How many people are here?” you ask.
“Enough,” he says. “It’s curated. By invitation-only. Most of them are regulars, like me.”
“Regulars,” you echo, because the word sounds ridiculous. Like people casually do this every weekend: go to a secret club to relax and network privately while sipping alcohol that costs a month’s worth of groceries.
Your friend watches your face, amused at your disbelief. “You should’ve seen the guest list the first time I came. I thought I was hallucinating.”
“You came here before?”
He looks offended. “No shit. You think I’d bring you to something untested?”
“You test things like this?”
“I test experiences,” he corrects, like what he's doing is a respectable hobby.
Your soda arrives in a glass that makes it look like it’s trying to be taken seriously. His whiskey arrives like a quiet threat: clear, sharp, catching the light.
Wonbin raises his glass. “To favors repaid.”
You lift your soda, trying to be rude, but your words betray: “To leaving early.”
He clinks anyway. “We’ll see.”
Time slides slowly, like the night has no end. Your friend chats with people who stop by, names you don’t remember, faces you’ll never see even once on campus. They greet him with familiarity, with deference, with that subtle shift people make when they’re speaking to someone they consider important.
Nobody really looks at you for longer than a few seconds. You’re an accessory. A tag-along. The 'family friend' in sneakers.
You should be relieved.
Instead, you feel small. Not in a self-pity way. Just in a wow, this is what it feels like to be outside your lane.
"So." Wonbin leans back, spreading his arms along the top of the booth. His gaze constantly lingers on the main stage, clearly excited for what's to come. "What do you think?"
"I mean—" you pause, taking a glance up and down some curtains. They look nice and elegant, to be fair— "—it's a club, alright."
"It's the club." He gestures vaguely at the space around them. "No press, no cameras, no nothing. What happens here—" He draws a finger across his throat. "Stays in more ways than one."
"Very dramatic."
"Very true." He leans forward, lowering his cadence. "You know how many scandals have been quietly resolved in rooms like this? How many careers have been made or broken on that stage?"
You look at the stage again. Still empty. Just dark wood and the glint of spotlights waiting to ignite.
"I don't want to know."
Wonbin laughs, loud and genuine, drawing a few awkward glances from nearby tables. "That's why I like you. You're the only person I know who genuinely doesn't care about any of this."
He motions at himself, at the room, at everything. "It's refreshing. Like hanging out with a normal person."
"Gee, thanks."
"I mean it as a compliment."
The drinks arrive. Yours is soda in a glass that likely costs more than the soda five times over. Wonbin's is something amber and smoky that he swirls once before knocking back half of it.
"So." He sets the glass down. "I've had this date marked for like, four months."
You raise an eyebrow. "You mark dates?" you ask, playful, lightly ribbing at the idea.
"I mark important dates,” he emphasizes. “This one's important."
He's watching you with an expression you can't quite read—amused, yes, but something else underneath. "Like I said, tonight’s Idol Night."
You choke on your water. Still doesn’t feel like an actual believable event, at best something a promotional flyer that plays K-pop on a random Tuesday at gay clubs and cover bands perform, not some clandestine hall such as this one.
"Run that by me again?"
"Idol Night." Wonbin grins when he repeats himself. "Once a month, sometimes twice, they bring in fresh faces in K-pop. Small venue, intimate setting. No cameras, no recordings, no fansites. Just the performers and the audience."
"That's—" You're doing the math in your head, and nothing adds up. "That's not a thing. That doesn't happen."
"It happens." He flags down the server for another drink. "At least here, anyway. They've had Le sserafim, aespa, i-dle—the whole shebang—”
Your ear twitches at the very mention. Three of the biggest in the industry right now—and somehow, they’ve coerced into performing in this environment. You have so many questions. But he keeps going.
“The catch is, you have to know someone. And the groups that come through are the ones with something to prove, or something to gain, or—" he shrugs. "Connections to make. You'd be surprised what happens when the cameras are off."
You're staring at him. You know you're staring at him, but you can't stop. Because Wonbin is many things: rich, spoiled, occasionally thoughtless, but he's not a liar. And the way he's talking, the casual delivery and normalization of it all—
"You've been to one of these before."
"Couple times." He accepts his second drink, takes a sip. "Saw ITZY last year.” He drops his voice to a hush, the kind that’s sacred, telling forbidden secrets: “You know, Ryujin sat in my lap—and Yuna spread it wide after—”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
"Bullshit."
"One hundred percent fact." He's grinning now, enjoying your lack of belief. "They mingle after the performance. How long? Depends on the group, depends on the night. But yeah. It's real."
You look around the room again, seeing it differently now. The clusters of men in suits, the occasional woman whose beauty has that specific sharpness of someone who's either an idol or could be one. The way the lighting seems designed to flatter, to hide, to reveal exactly what it wants to—
"And you brought me here because—"
"Because you're my friend," Wonbin softens, just slightly. "And because I know you've never been able to get tickets to anything. Between school and work and—" He waves a hand. "Life. You're always the one helping everyone else. So yeah. I cashed in some favors. Got us in."
You don't know what to say. The glass suddenly feels colder in your grasp; the trickle of water beads down your skin might as well be sudden sweat.
"I—"
"Don't get emotional." He holds up his own hand. "Seriously, don't. I'll make fun of you forever."
Too late. There's something tight in your chest, something that might be gratitude. Having someone like Wonbin remember the poster on your bedroom wall, the albums on your shelf, the binder of photocards you pretend is just for collecting Pokémon cards—
"Which group?" you manage, and somehow, this might be your biggest regret of the lot.
Wonbin's grin turns sly. "Have a guess."
"I'm not guessing."
"Humor me."
You think about it. Le sserafim, aespa, ITZY, i-dle—all groups with the kind of reputation that makes this setting almost make sense. Groups whose concepts lean more on the mature side, whose stages push boundaries, whose fans are used to a certain level of sexuality—
But Wonbin's watching you with that look, the one that says he knows something you don't, and suddenly your brain catches up with the context clues.
"No."
"Maybe."
"No fucking shot."
"Oh, absolutely."
You're shaking your head in denial, but your heart's already racing. "IVE doesn't—they're not—their image is—"
"I know." Wonbin's practically glowing. "That's the point."
"They're the nation's sweethearts. Kids adore them. I don’t see why—"
You want to argue. List all the reasons this can't be happening, all the logical reasons IVE would never agree to perform in a setting like this, mark all the reasons you should leave right now before you see something you can't unsee.
But you don't move.
Because the poster on your wall is Wonyoung in that blue dress from that one awards show. Because your albums are all first press, still kept in their plastic sleeves. Because you've spent hours watching fancams, reading translations, falling down rabbit holes of content until three in the morning when you should have been studying.
Because you're a fan. A real one. The kind that Wonbin's making fun of but also, apparently, worth paying attention to.
Before you press him further, the lights dim.
A murmur runs through the crowd, anticipation thrumming like a second bass line. You grip your glass, knuckles white.
"Relax." Wonbin's already looking like he’s having the time of his life watching your every reaction. "It's just a show."
"Nothing about this is just anything."
He chuckles, but you're not paying attention anymore because the stage lights are coming up, soft gold bleeding into the dark, and there's movement in the wings.
Six figures. Six distinct silhouettes.
And together, they step into the light.
You've saved countless pictures. Watched hours of content. You know every angle of their faces, every variation of their stage outfits, every carefully curated moment of their public personas.
None of it prepares you for this.
Because holy fuck.
Your gaze lands on Gaeul first. Leading with that calm, gentle confidence you've admired in a hundred fancams. But the outfit—god, the outfits. Gold tops and black shorts on every member. All of them rock it like goddesses, but on her, it's something else. A cropped top that barely exists, high-waisted bottoms that somehow show more than they cover, chains draping across her stomach like jewelry you want to trace with your fingers.
Then your eyes focus on Yujin, and your breath catches because she's looking directly at the audience, that stare that's always been more challenge than invitation. Her outfit is the most elaborate, if you can call it that: more chains, more cutouts, a harness situation that frames her chest in ways that make your mouth go dry. She moves like she owns the stage, like she owns you, and the worst part is she's right.
Rei's third, all legs in something that barely qualifies as a dress, slit to the hip, glitter catching every movement. She's grinning, that impish expression that makes you forget she acts cute half the time, and now you understand why.
Wonyoung.
Jang fucking Wonyoung.Where do you even start.
She steps out and the room forgets to breathe. You included. She's always been beautiful, always been that girl, the one everyone talks about, the one whose face launched a thousand brand deals. But tonight—she’s a whole other entity.
Her outfit is the same gold and black colorway like the others, a bra top that's more structure than fabric, high-waisted bottoms with cutouts that frame her hips, her waist, that impossible hourglass silhouette she usually hides behind pant suits and elegant dresses. Her long hair is down, wavy, catching the light like spun gold. Her eyes are lined dark, smoky, the kind of look that promises things she's never been allowed to promise before.
She's not looking at the audience. She's looking through them, past them, like she's already somewhere else. Like she's already the woman she's trying to become.
You almost miss Liz because Wonyoung's presence is still processing in your brain, but she demands attention in her own way. Softer curves, sweeter face, but the rougher makeup and designer outfit doesn't lie: plunging neckline, thigh-high slits, everything designed to show exactly what they've been hiding.
Last is Leeseo, and she shouldn't be anywhere near something like this; she's young, too innocent, too pure—but there she is, gold chains crisscrossing her stomach, in shorts that barely qualify as such, and she's smiling like she knows exactly what she's doing.
The music starts.
It starts normally; it's just XOXZ. You're expecting the usual, and for the most part it is: they're hitting choreo beats like it's just another practice routine. The crowd watches in reverent silence, but a quick glance at their eyes reveal something more: controlled, intricate observation, the one reserved for judging, deep evaluation.
But after that oh-so memorable bridge, something shifts. There's a change in the instrumental, a new dance break, something you haven't seen even in concert fancams.
Gaeul hits a drop and the audience cheers. Not the typical polite applause, but something rawer, hungrier. One often heard and seen in foreign outings.
Regardless, you can't look away.
Wonyoung takes center stage and the lights seem to bend toward her, gold catching on her skin, on the glitter dusted across her collarbones, on the chains that move with every breath. She dances like no one's watching, which is insane because everyone's watching, because you're watching, because you can't not watch. Her presence naturally draws you in.
Then, she rolls her hips and your brain short-circuits.
"This is—"
You don't realize you've spoken aloud until Wonbin answers.
"Real." He's not watching the stage. He's watching you, that amused expression back in full force. "Told you."
"But they're—" You gesture helplessly at the stage, at the girls, at everything. "They're IVE."
"And now they're IVE doing something different,” he shrugs. "Labels know what sells. And what sells in rooms like this?" Another gesture at the crowd, at the men in suits and women in dresses, at the glittering wealth surrounding them. "Not cute concepts, that's for sure."
You should be bothered by what you're seeing. Hell, you probably are, somewhere underneath the sheer overwhelming what the fuck of the moment. But right now, with the bass thrumming through your chest and Wonyoung spinning into Yujin's arms, bodies pressing together in ways that would break the internet if anyone had a camera and Twitter on standby—
Right now, you're just a fan.
A fan who's never been to a concert. Never been to a fanmeet. Never been closer to his idols other than a screen and a dream.
"This—this is—"
You try again, fail again.
"My gift to you." Wonbin's answer is softer now, more genuine. "For all the times you helped me when you didn't have to. For being my friend when most people just want my wallet."
He raises his glass again. "Happy early birthday. Or something. I don’t know."
You look at him—really look at him—and for once the expensive clothes, the easy confidence, the casual wealth all seem to fade away. He's just your friend. The one who actually paid attention.
Somehow, you manage to say something. It's simple, but the most resonant.
"Thank you.”
Wonbin grins and nods along. "Don't thank me yet. Performance just started. We haven’t gotten to the best part."
Tilting his head toward the stage, Yujin's executing a move that should be illegal in at least 27 countries. "Just so you know, Yujin and Wonyoung are mine tonight."
You laugh. Actually laugh, to let something loose in your chest.
"In your dreams."
"In this club?" He raises an eyebrow. "Dreams are the bare minimum."
The music swells. The sextet hits a collective pose that makes the crowd roar. And you sit there, like the typical average college student in his best button-down, surrounded by wealth and glitter and things you never thought you'd see, watching your bias perform in an outfit that would break the internet if anyone could prove it existed.
This isn't real. This can't be real.
But Rei’s hand is on Liz’s waist, and Rei’s looking at the audience with eyes that know exactly what she's doing, and the bass is still thrumming, and your glass is sweating in your hand, and—
"Is this real?" you ask again, quieter, even though you’ve started believing.
Wonbin doesn't answer right away. He's watching the stage, something complicated in his expression. Then he looks at you, and the grin is back, but softer.
"It's real, dude. Welcome to the deep end."
You don't chance a look at him. You’re too focused on the performance to care about anything else.
The music hits another drop. They turn on their heels and pose again. Wonyoung winks—with that specific smile, the one that launched a thousand ships—and you realize you've unknowingly been smiling back, even though you’re nowhere near her line of sight.
You've seen Kitsch a hundred times. Watched the music video until the algorithm gave up suggesting anything else, studied fancams like you were preparing for an exam, memorized every angle, every expression, every carefully placed hair flip. You thought you knew it. You thought you understood what the song was, what it meant, what it could do.
When in fact, you didn't know a damn thing.
On this stage, with these lights, in these outfits, Kitsch becomes something else entirely. Something that shouldn't exist outside of private fantasies and late-night internet rabbit holes you'd never admit to.
Wonyoung hits the opening verse and the crowd feels it. Something that vibrates through the floor and up your spine and settles somewhere in your chest like a second heartbeat. She moves differently here—sharper, looser, like the constraints of broadcast regulations have been stripped away along with the layers of fabric. Her hips roll with the bass and you catch yourself holding your breath.
Beside you, Wonbin taps his glass in rhythm, entirely at ease. Comfortably settled in his element.
Told you, his expression says without speaking.
You don't acknowledge him. Your eyes are firmly glued to the stage, to Gaeul, to Yujin sliding into frame behind her, hands finding hips in a way that would send fans into cardiac arrest if anyone could capture it.
Thank God they can't. No cameras. No proof. Just this moment, this room, these people.
Just you, watching your bias wrecker emerge from the wings.
Rei takes her mark and something in your chest lurches.
She's always been the dangerous one—at least for you. The one who made you second-guess your loyalties when Wonyoung had been your bias since debut. The one whose fancams you watched for research, obviously, and then watched again because—research. The one with that smile, that cute, playful energy, that way of looking at the camera like she knows exactly what you're thinking and finds it amusing.
In person, it's worse. So much worse.
Her outfit barely qualifies as safe: gold chains crisscrossing her neck, shorts that qualify as a suggestion more than clothing, boots that lace up to her thighs and leave most of them exposed. Her hair, shoulder length, moves with the beat, catching the light, and she's grinning—that specific grin that's quintessentially Rei, the one that says she's up to something and you're going to enjoy it whether you want to or not.
The members spread out, owning the stage in ways that feel almost aggressive. Yujin drops into a move that makes several nearby guests cheer, loud and appreciative. Wonyoung follows, her expression that perfect blend of cool disdain and come-hither that's made her the center of a thousand think pieces. Even Leeseo moves with a confidence that seems impossible for someone her age, or maybe that's exactly the point.
Maybe this is what happens when the cameras are off, when the only audience is the one in front of you, when the only thing that matters is the moment itself.
You're vaguely aware of the condensation dripping onto your pants. Of Wonbin saying something you don't catch because Rei is right there, working the edge of the stage, her eyes scanning the crowd like she's looking for someone.
Like she's looking for you.
Don't be ridiculous.
But then her gaze pauses. Flickers. Lands. On you.
You freeze.
It's just a second—maybe less—but in that brief moment, something passes between you. Not recognition, because why would she recognize you—some random guy in a cheap button-down that looks out of place in a crowd of wealth and entitlement—but acknowledgment. Like she's seen you, actually seen you, in a room full of people trained to look through each other.
Before it fully registers, she moves on, and you can breathe again.
"Bro." Wonbin cuts through the fog. "Did she just—"
"No."
"I totally saw that."
"You saw nothing."
He laughs, low and knowing. "Sure, man. Whatever helps you sleep tonight."
You try to refocus on the stage, on the performance, on anything except the fact that Rei looked at you. But your heart won't cooperate, beating wildly like you've found the love of your life, and your hands feel weirdly numb, and—
The song ends. You don't remember anything in those three minutes or so other than Rei catching you and the members being sexy beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, the crowd applauds, respectful, but it feels different: warmer, more engaged. Like the atmosphere’s shifted.
The stage lights shift too, softening from the bright gold of the opening into something warmer, more intimate. The bass deepens. A new track starts, and it takes you a second to place it, not even the obvious intro with the painfully distinct sample—
The members fan out again, but this time they're not staying on stage. They're moving into the crowd.
You watch, transfixed, as Yujin approaches a table near the front. She doesn't perform so much as preside. That infectious energy fully deployed, chin lifted, eyes half-lidded as she runs a hand through her hair and lets the movement draw attention to every line of her body. The man at the table—older, silver-haired, wearing a watch that probably costs a house—smiles like he's been given a gift.
Wonyoung drifts toward another cluster of guests, and the room seems to tilt in her direction. She's all angles tonight: sharp cheekbones, sharper gaze, that impossible silhouette showcased by the cutouts in her outfit. She doesn't have to try. She just has to exist, and the effect is as impactful.
Gaeul works the opposite side of the room, more graceful and delicate than the others, her natural energy translating even in this context. Leeseo follows her lead, young but not young, if you understand—smiling, waving, letting her gaze linger just long enough to make an impression.
Liz moves with more restraint. You notice it immediately, the way she holds herself, the careful control in every gesture. She's attractive, undeniably so, but there's something disciplined about her approach. Something that says I'm here because I have to be, not because I want to be. Not coldness, exactly, not quite. More like professionalism taken to its logical extreme.
And Rei—
Rei is making her way toward your side of the room. She's just—she's working the crowd. It's not—
But she's not stopping at any of the tables she passes. Not lingering near the businessmen with their expensive watches and hungry eyes. Not even glancing at the celebrities half-cloaked in shadow.
She's coming toward you.
"Oh my God," Wonbin mutters, and he sounds genuinely shocked. "She's actually—"
"Shut up."
"You shut up. This is amazing."
You shut up. Can't move either. Can't do anything except sit there, frozen, as Rei weaves through the final few tables and comes to a stop directly in front of you.
Up close, she's—different. Not in a bad way. In a way that makes you realize how flat screens are, how impossible it is to capture the reality of a person through pixels and compression. She's smaller than you expected, more compact, but there's nothing little about her presence. She takes up space without trying, fills the air around her with something that feels almost electric.
And she's looking at you.
Again.
Still.
"Hi," she mumbles, carefully maneuvering her microphone to avoid making unnecessary noise, and she sounds exactly what you imagined in person—bright, a little mischievous, carrying that hint of playfulness that's made her your bias wrecker since day one. "Enjoying the show?"
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.
Rei's smile widens. She's close enough that you can see the glitter on her cheekbones, the individual strands of hair that have escaped whatever styling product they used, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she's genuinely amused.
"Cat got your tongue?" She tilts her head, the movement sending the gold chains shifting across her neck. "That's okay. I like shy ones."
Behind you, Wonbin makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be him choking. You can't check. Not when Naoi Rei's gaze is all over you.
She moves then—not away, but into the space between you and the table. Close enough that if you reached out, you could touch her. Close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her skin, catch the faint scent of whatever perfume they use backstage. Close enough that this is definitely, absolutely, undeniably real.
The club remix of Attitude pulses through the room, but all you can hear is your own heartbeat racing.
Rei starts to move with the music. Not the full choreography—just a sway, a roll of her hips, a slow drag of her hands down her own body that captures your eyes whether you want them drawn or not. She's performing for you. Specifically, deliberately, unmistakably for you.
"Like what you see?" she whispers, tilting her gaze over to you, and there's that grin again, the one that says she knows exactly what she's doing.
You manage a nod. Barely.
She laughs, bright and genuine, and for a moment the performance drops away and she's just Rei—the girl from the variety shows, the one who makes silly jokes, runs the Tiktok account like her own personal canvas, and gets teased by the members and can't always keep a straight face during serious moments. Then it's back, the professional effortlessly veneer sliding into place, but you saw it. You saw her.
"We have a song later," she says, leaning in slightly, close enough that you could count her eyelashes if your brain was functioning well enough for math. "Special one. Never performed before. Hope you stick around for it."
"I—"
Your voice cracks. Actually cracks, like you're fifteen again and going through puberty for the second time. "Yeah. I mean. Yes. I'll—I'm not going anywhere."
Rei's smile softens, just a fraction. "Good."
She reaches out—reaches out—and touches your shoulder. Just a brief press of fingers, light enough that you might imagine it, but you don't imagine it because you feel it, feel the contact like a brand through the fabric of your cheap button-down.
Then she's gone, gliding away to rejoin the others, and you're left staring at empty space with your heart trying to escape your chest, trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.
"Bro." Wonbin chokes in disbelief. "Bro, what the fuck."
"I don't—"
"That was—she touched you. She came all the way over here and performed just for you and then she touched you."
"I know."
"Do you realize—do you have any idea—"
"No." You cut him off, because if you have to think about what just happened, you might actually pass out. "I don't. I can't. Just—give me a second."
Wonbin laughs out loud, drawing a few stray, distracted glances from nearby tables. "Take all the time you need, man. I'm just gonna sit here and enjoy watching you have a crisis."
You don't pay attention to anything or anyone other than Rei; they're back on stage now, taking their places for the next formation, and for an incredibly brief moment she glances your way again. Just a flicker of eye contact, but she smiles.
The performance continues. You watch and observe, but you're not really there anymore, not in the way you were before.
Every movement Rei makes feels pointed. Every glance toward your section of the room feels deliberate. You know it's probably not true. She's a professional doing her job, working the crowd, giving everyone in this room what they paid for and then some.
But knowing doesn't stop you from feeling.
The next song blends into the next. You recognize fragments—bits of choreography and sections from I Am, Love Dive, After Like—but everything's rearranged, remixed, reimagined into a composite medley specifically for this space, this audience, this night. The members move through the crowd in waves; different girls approaching different tables, and you watch Liz make her way toward your side of the room with a different energy than Rei brought.
Liz's charisma is controlled, precise. Every gesture measured, every expression calibrated. She's beautiful—of course she's beautiful, they all are—but there's something almost clinical in her approach. Like she's performing a role rather than being herself. You remember reading somewhere that she's more reserved off-stage, that the other members have to draw her out of her shell.
Maybe that's what you're seeing. Perhaps the discipline is a shield.
She stops a few feet from your table, close enough to acknowledge but not enough to engage. Her eyes sweep over you and Wonbin, taking you in, quickly assessing. Then she gives a small nod—almost imperceptible—and moves on to the next table.
"Friendly," Wonbin remarks.
"She's just—that's how she is."
"You know her personally now?"
"I'm a fan. You get to know these things."
He snorts, but there's no malice behind it. "Right. Well, your girl Rei seems to have adopted you. Liz is just doing her job."
Your girl Rei. His comment lodges somewhere in your chest and refuses to leave.
The performance builds toward something. You can feel it in the way the energy shifts, the way the members start to converge back on the stage, the way the lighting deepens from bright and colorful into something darker, more intimate. The crowd feels it too; conversations trail off, glasses pause halfway to lips, every eye turns toward the stage.
The music stops.
For a moment, there's silence. Complete, absolute silence in a room full of people, which shouldn't be possible but somehow is.
Then a new track starts.
It's not like anything you've heard from them before. Heavier, darker, fusing western elements with a dirty, grungy bass line that seems to vibrate in your bones rather than your ears. Synths that build and swell and demand.
And then Leeseo's voice kicks in, and you realize—this is brand new. This is unreleased.
The crowd loses it. Not loudly; this isn't that kind of crowd. But you feel the shift, the sudden intensity of attention, the way every person in the room leans forward slightly, collectively, like they're all straining toward the stage.
Their choreography looks different. Sharper. More aggressive in a way that makes the earlier performances look almost tame. The members move like they're fighting something—or someone—bodies slicing through space with a precision that borders on violence.
The song builds to its first chorus and the bass hits, hard enough that you feel it in your teeth. The lights strobe. The members explode into quick, precise movement.
And you just sit there, average college student in his best button-down, watching your favorite group perform a song that doesn't officially exist in a club that doesn't officially exist for an audience that will never be able to prove any of it happened.
This isn't real. But it is. It's 100% real.
You know because your hands are shaking, because your heart's been racing for the last 45 minutes or so, you've stopped following, because Rei shoots a glance your way during a brief pause in the choreography and winks.
Before you can fully comprehend the song, it ends. The lights come up, soft and warm again, and the members take their positions at the front of the stage. They bow—that familiar idol bow, the one you've seen a thousand times in a thousand different contexts—and for a moment, they're just IVE again. The group you've followed for years. The girls whose content got you through late nights and stressful exams.
Their message is brief: they thank the audience for being here and enjoying themselves, tell everyone they'll be back with new music in the coming months, and to shower them with continuous love and support. It doesn't register till the very last second that the new song they performed is called Bang Bang, even though it's literally all over the damn lyrics and Yujin mentioned it herself.
"First time anywhere," she said. "Please look forward to the official release."
Then they straighten their postures, and Wonyoung waves—that specific wave, the one that makes fans lose their minds—and they start to file off stage. The main event is over.
The crowd applauds. Respectful, classy. Then the regular subdued club music kicks back in. Conversations restart. Glasses are raised.
Meanwhile, you sit there, utterly still, utterly overwhelmed by—well, everything.
"So," Wonbin cuts through the fog. "Thoughts?"
You turn to look at him. He's watching you with that expression again—amused, knowing, but underneath it something softer. Something that might be genuine happiness at your happiness.
"I—" You stop. Start again. "That was—"
"Yeah."
"I don't have words."
"Didn't think you would." He leans back, spreading his arms along the top of the booth. "But hey. At least you know it was real, right? Your girl Rei definitely noticed you."
Your girl Rei. There it is again. Somehow, you want to believe it, no matter how delusional and stupid it sounds.
"She was just—she was doing her job."
"Sure." He drawls the word, stretching it into three syllables. "That's why she came all the way across the room to perform specifically at our table. That's why she touched you. That's why she winked at you during the finale. All in the name of professionalism."
You don't have an answer for that. Because deep down, he's right, and you know he's right and you have no idea what to do with that information.
Wonbin watches you struggle for a moment, then laughs and pats you on the shoulder. "Relax, man. I'm just giving you a hard time. But seriously—that was something. Even by this club's high standards, that was something."
You nod, because you've got no words. Because it's the safest response.
People are moving between tables now, networking or whatever it is rich people do in spaces like this. A few of them, fresh faces, ones even Wonbin doesn’t know, glance your way—probably wondering who you are, how you rate, why you're here.
You don't care. Your mind is still looking at the stage, thinking about Rei, on the impossible fact that she looked at you, saw you, touched you.
"She's right, you know." Wonbin pulls you back from your haze. "About sticking around."
"What?"
"The song. The new one. She said they had a special song and hoped you'd stick around for it." He raises an eyebrow. "You stuck around. She noticed."
"I—she was just—"
"You keep saying that." He sets down his glass, turning to face you fully. "Look. I don't know what happens after these things. I've stayed for the mingling before, but I've never—I've never had one of them come to me like that. Not like that. So I'm not gonna pretend I know what it means."
You wait. There's more coming, you can feel it.
"But I do know that you deserve this." He insists, just slightly begging—like you're doing him another favor by letting him have this one night. "You spend all your time helping everyone else. School, work, me—you're always the one giving. So if tonight, for whatever reason, one of your favorite idols decided to give something back?" He shrugs. "Take it. Enjoy it. Don't overthink it."
Easy for him to say. He wasn't the one standing inches from Rei while she moved to music meant only for this room. He wasn't the one who felt her fingers on his shoulder, brief but electric.
But he's not wrong either.
"Thanks," you manage. "For bringing me. For—all of it."
Wonbin grins, the moment of sincerity passing as quickly as it came. "Don't thank me yet."
You frown. "What do you mean?"
He leans forward, eyes glittering with that look you've learned to recognize—the one that means he knows something you don't, and he's about to enjoy telling you.
"The performance," he starts, "is just the first part."
You heard him the first time; you just need confirmation.
"I already told you,” he gestures vaguely toward the back of the stage where the members disappeared. "They mingle. Meet people. It's part of the deal—why these groups do these shows. Connections. Networking. Opportunities. Aside from the huge pay, of course."
Your brain, already struggling to process the last hour or so, grinds to a complete halt.
"You're saying—"
"I'm saying they haven't even come out yet." He settles back, clearly enjoying your reaction. "The show's over. Now the real night begins."
You look toward the stage, toward the wings where IVE exited, toward the velvet-curtained area beyond that might be a green room or might be something else entirely.
The performance was one thing. Unreal, impossible, but contained. A show. Something you could watch from a distance, even when that distance shrank to mere inches.
But meeting them, talking to them, being in the same room as them, not as audience and performer, but as—
"That's the best part," Wonbin adds, carrying a weight you don't fully understand yet. "Trust me. You haven't experienced anything yet."
All around you, nightlife continues as usual; glasses clink, laughter rises and falls. Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, pretending to be a shadow of someone you're not, in a place you clearly don't belong, holding a glass that's long since gone warm, waiting for a night that apparently isn't over yet.
The members emerge from the side of the stage like they're walking into a fansign, all smiles and waves and that practiced idol grace that makes everything look effortless. Gaeul first, because she's always first, leading with that quiet confidence that's made her the group's silent anchor. Leeseo follows, bouncing slightly, unable to completely suppress her natural energy even in a room like this. Then Yujin, and you watch her shift seamlessly into leader mode: scanning the room, assessing, already calculating the best way to work this crowd.
Wonyoung glides out next, and the room seems to gravitate toward her, as always. The way light catches her features, the way she holds herself, the way her presence demands without asking—it's the kind of thing that makes you understand why she's where she is, why she's who she is.
Liz follows, more reserved, her smile polite but contained. She's scanning the place too, but differently than Yujin: less strategic, more cautious. Like she's reading the room to figure out where she fits rather than how to work it.
And then, Rei. She emerges last, and your chest does something complicated. They're still in their bold, risque stage outfits, but her features soften to the one seen in cameras and in her funny TikToks. She looks younger like this, more approachable. Like the girl from the variety shows, the one who can't always keep a straight face during games, the one whose laugh makes you laugh even when you don't know why.
But there's still that edge. That hint of mischief in the way she holds herself, the way her eyes scan the crowd like she's looking for someone.
Looking for you.
You know it's probably not true. Again, you're reminding yourself she's just doing her job, working the room, making key connections. But when her gaze finds yours across the space—across the clusters of wealthy patrons and glittering celebrities and all the people who belong here in ways you don't—and she smiles, that specific Rei smile, the one that crinkles her eyes at the corners—
"Yeah," Wonbin mutters beside you. "She's definitely not looking for you. Totally professional."
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying." He laughs, low and easy, settling deeper into the booth. "Relax. They'll get to us eventually. Gotta work the room first." He gestures vaguely at the crowd surrounding the girls. "Big fish, bigger wallets, all that. We're the dessert course."
You watch as the members fan out, each gravitating toward different groups of guests. Gaeul goes toward a table of older men—executives of some kind, you assume, given the Rolexes on their wrists and the posture and the way they receive her like she's a business proposal wrapped in grace. She handles it beautifully, all poise and polish, every gesture measured.
Leeseo bounces between tables, her natural cheerfulness persisting even in this radical, unyielding environment. She's the youngest, but she carries herself well, disarming people with that friendly smile before they can think too hard about why she's here.
Yujin works the room like she's running for office. Handshakes, eye contact, that natural presence that makes you want to believe in whatever she's selling. She pauses at a table near the center, engages in conversation that seems genuinely mutual, and you catch yourself thinking that's why she's the leader.
Wonyoung doesn't work so much as receive. People line up to her. Quite literally. You watch it happen in real time; a small queue forms as guests wait for their moment with her. She handles each interaction with that perfect blend of warmth and distance that's made her the industry's most untouchable asset.
Liz moves more cautiously, sticking to the edges, speaking briefly before moving on. She's polite, professional. But there's something held back, something reserved, and you remember reading interviews where she talked about being shy, about needing time to warm up to people.
This must be hard for her, you realize. This must cost something.
Rei works the room like she's playing a game. She spends a little longer at each table, a little more playful, a little more present. You watch her make a group of businessmen laugh at something, watch her touch a woman's arm in a gesture of genuine connection, watch her move through the space like she's known it her whole life.
But every so often, her eyes flick your way. Just a glance. Just a check. And every time, she smiles.
"She's definitely not waiting to get to us," Wonbin comments. "Totally professional interest in our table. Very business."
"Can you not?"
"Absolutely not. This is the most entertainment I've had in months."
You try to ignore him. Try to focus on anything except the slow progression of idols through the room, the way they're getting closer table by table, the way your heart rate climbs with each passing minute.
The men at the table nearest you are deep in conversation with Gaeul and Leeseo now, their usual composed demeanor cracking slightly in the presence of actual idols. One of them—silver-haired, expensively suited—actually blushes when Leeseo directs a comment his way. You file that away for later, for the part of your brain that will need proof this was real.
Then they move onto the next table. And the next.
Closer. Getting closer.
"I've got dibs," Wonbin says, not for the first time. "Yujin and Wonyoung. Don't forget."
"How could I forget? You've only mentioned it like a dozen times."
"Just making sure. You're distracted."
You are. You know you are. Because Rei is at the table directly adjacent now, close enough that you can hear the cadence of her accent, catch fragments of her conversation. She's speaking in Korean, rapid and fluid, and your brain—trained on years of content with subtitles—strains to catch words you might recognize.
She laughs at something, bright and genuine, and the sound does something to your chest.
Then the table's conversation ends. They stand, exchange pleasantries, move on.
Rei turns. Looks directly at you. Smiles. And starts walking toward your table.
"Oh shit," Wonbin mutters. "Here they come."
They, as in all six of IVE. Because Yujin's broken away from her cluster too, Wonyoung's gliding in their wake, Liz is trailing slightly behind, and somehow—by sheer universal fate—all of them are converging on your table at once.
You don't remember exactly when you stood up, but suddenly you're standing, which means you feel tall, that you're clearly visible. There's nowhere to hide even if you wanted to disappear.
You don't want to. You want to be here. You want to see this. You just didn't expect to be seen.
Rei greets you, close enough that you could reach out and touch her. She's stopped a few feet away, giving you space, but her eyes are right there, meeting yours without hesitation. "Hi again."
"Hi," you manage. The word, when it comes out, sounds strange. Distant.
"You stayed."
"I—yeah. I said I would."
Her smile widens. "You did. I remember."
Yujin steps forward, unassuming, and her presence shifts the dynamic immediately. Suddenly, she feels like the most imposing person in the room, demanding your attention but in reality, her features show warmth. Still, her eyes move at a pace that quickly assesses you from head to toe.
"So you're the one," she says, vague.
You blink. "The one?"
"The one Rei couldn't stop talking about." She throws an amused look at Rei. "Someone caught her attention tonight."
Rei's cheeks flush—actually glow, visible even in the dim lighting—and she swats at Yujin's arm. "Unnie."
"What? It's true."
You stand there, frozen, as the reality of this moment crashes over you. Yujin is teasing Rei. About you. In front of you.
Wonyoung drifts closer, elegant as always, and her presence adds another layer to the overwhelming tableau. She doesn't speak immediately; just observes, her gaze thoughtful.
Then Liz steps forward, and her expression is different from the others—more curious, more direct. She looks at you like she's trying to figure something out.
"You're a fan," she remarks. It's not a question.
"I—yeah. I am. Have been since debut."
Liz's expression softens. "It's nice to meet a real one. Here." She gestures practically at the room, at the wealth and privilege surrounding them. "It's different. Usually. Older guys and all."
You nod because it's the safest option. "I didn't know this existed. My friend—" You glance at Wonbin, who's watching with barely concealed amusement, "he brought me. Said it was a gift."
"A gift." Yujin's eyebrow lifts. The words sound odd in this environment. "Interesting choice of gift."
"Best gift I've ever gotten," you admit, and it's true, and saying it makes it somehow more real.
Rei beams at that. Actually beams, like you've said something that made her genuinely happy.
Wonyoung speaks for the first time, carrying that particular quality that makes everything she says sound important. She's looking at Rei mostly, but her eyes flick to you briefly. "He's been watching you all night. Very intently."
"Wonyoung," Rei protests, but there’s no bite.
"What? It's true. I saw."
Now you're the one blushing. You can feel it, the heat climbing your neck, settling in your cheeks. This is mortifying. This is also, somehow, the best moment of your life.
Wonbin, sensing an opportunity to make things worse, leans forward. "He's got a poster. Of you," he points at Rei. "On his wall. Right next to his bed."
"Wonbin. Are you fucking serious—" you try to speak, but the words gradually die on your mouth.
"What? It's relevant." He shrugs, grinning like this is all part of his twisted plan.
Rei's eyes go wide, then crinkle when she laughs. "A poster? Really?"
"I—it's from the Season's Greetings photobook. 2025. The limited edition, the one with the—"
You stop because you're rambling, because somehow, you're explaining your poster placement to an actual member of IVE—your goddamn bias, even—because your life has become unrecognizable in the span of a few hours.
But Rei's still smiling. Still looking at you like you're not just another stranger in a room full of them.
"That's sweet," she says. "Really. That means a lot."
Liz shifts beside her, and something in her expression changes. She's watching you with renewed interest, like you've become slightly more dimensional than before.
"You have good taste," she offers, quiet, genuine.
"Liz stole my heart too," you then say, and the words are out before you can stop, before you can filter them, before you can do anything except watch them land.
For a moment, silence again.
Then Rei laughs, absolutely delighted, and the sound breaks the tension like glass.
"Stole his heart," she repeats, eyes dancing back and forth between you and her. "Liz, did you hear that? You stole his heart."
Liz's cheeks flush pink, but she's smiling—actually smiling, that genuine one that transforms her whole face. "I didn't mean to."
"Too late," Wonbin chimes in. "He's been compromised. Both of you. He doesn't stand a chance."
Yujin snorts—actually snorts, which is so unexpected that you stare. "Your friend is funny."
"He's insufferable," you correct, but there's no heat behind it. Not when Rei is still laughing, not when Liz is smiling at you like you're not a complete stranger.
Wonyoung tilts her head, studying you with that unreadable expression. "You're different," she remarks, brushing her long hair with a hand. "From the others here."
It's not a question, but you answer anyway. "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm—" You wave at yourself, at your pants and sneakers and the shirt that suddenly feels inadequate in a dozen new ways. "This isn't my world."
"Maybe that's why."
She doesn't explain further; just lets the implication hang. They understand the situation: you're an anomaly standing in a room full of wealth and privilege, talking to IVE like they're just people, like this is normal.
None of it is. But you don't want it to end.
"We should keep moving," Yujin then says regretfully. "Other guests. You know how it is."
You nod. Of course. They have to work the room, have to make connections, have to do the thing they're here to do. You're not the only person in this space.
"I understand."
Rei's expression flickers—something passing through her eyes too fast to read. She glances at Liz, and something passes between them, some silent communication you're not meant to understand.
Then she steps closer. Close enough that you can see the individual strands of her eyelashes, the slight shimmer of residual glitter on her cheekbones, the way her lips part slightly before she speaks.
"Stay," she says, quiet, intimate, meant only for you.
You blink rapidly. "What?"
Rei leans in, close enough that her breath ghosts against your ear. "Don't leave. We'll come back. For you."
Before you can respond, before you can process, she's pulling back, smiling that playful smile, and Liz is beside her, and they're moving away, rejoining the others, disappearing into the crowd of guests who have no idea what just happened or have a clue about your conversation.
You stand there, frozen, your heart pounding once more.
"What did she say?" Wonbin snaps you back before it can fully sink in."What did she—"
"She said to stay. That they'd come back. For me."
Wonbin's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "No shit?"
"No shit."
He processes this for a moment, then grins—wide and genuine and slightly wicked. "Well, then. You heard them."
"I—what do I—"
"You stay. Obviously." He stands, patting you on the shoulder. It feels—celebratory. "I, meanwhile, have a date with Yujin and Wonyoung."
"You can't just—"
"Watch me."
And he does. Wonbin weaves through the crowd with that natural rich man swagger, and you watch as he intercepts Yujin and Wonyoung near the bar, jaws drop as they turn to him, as something passes between them that ends with all three moving toward a different part of the club.
He's really doing it. He's really—
"Still here."
You turn around, and every time you find them, it never feels real.
Rei and Liz. Both of them, standing close, close enough that you're acutely aware of the space between you.
"You stayed," says Rei, and there's something different when she talks. Softer, more direct, but anxious.
"You asked me to."
Liz steps forward. Her hand finds yours—as in, actually wraps her fingers, intertwining like it's the most natural thing in the world. Her skin feels warm, soft, real.
"We should go," she suggests quietly. "Somewhere quieter."
Your heart stops. Kicks back to life.
You should say no. Tell them watching their performance, sharing a small conversation, no matter how brief, is more than enough. You understand your place as a fan, and you'll respect their boundaries as idols. Instead, Rei's glinting eyes and Liz holding your hand just that little bit tighter tell you that the night is nowhere close to being over.
A nod of agreement, and you follow them, hand in tow as Rei leads the way.
Around you, conversations about everything and anything happen in the background; no one cares that you've essentially snuck away from the main hall and into one of many dark, sparkling hallways. The others are nowhere in sight; Yujin and Wonyoung are with Wonbin, Gaeul and Leeseo with God knows who. Rei and Liz are muttering something between themselves, muffled by the low thrumming bass pervading even in this confined space.
Eventually, they find an unoccupied room near the dead-end of the hallway. The choice is intentional; they care about privacy the most. Rei slides the door open. Liz takes you inside, and Rei shuts it behind you, turning the knob and pulling the drapes closed.
Unsurprisingly, the lounge is lavish: a large, half-crescent couch circles half the room dominates the rear. A television with a panel containing several buttons below sits on the leftmost side of the room and a bathroom adjacent to the right. An ice bucket stacked with a bottle of champagne and wine glasses sits at the center table, ready for immediate consumption, and at the side, a mini fridge with extra beverages awaits for those seeking seconds.
You're overwhelmed by the luxury of it all that you don't realize Liz has disappeared from view, having let go of your hand. Turning around, the two women are standing mere inches from you, their eyes gleaming under the pale white light.
"I feel like we owe you an explanation," Rei starts. She sounds nervous and shy, nothing like the quirky idol you were talking to minutes ago.
"Yeah," Liz adds, matching her tone, though she’d been acting the part the whole time. "We thought—we should at least be honest about—all this. About what's happening."
Nothing seems to register. Just more questions run through your head. You dare not to speak.
"So—about that friend of yours—" says, slowly twiddling her fingers, "Wonbin, was it—"
"Yeah?" you interrupt before she can finish. Somehow, they know his name. It probably spreads around these circles fast, to be fair. People who likely pay specifically to meet these idols—and considering he's with Yujin and Wonyoung right now—
"He paid us."
Her answer catches you off guard. No preamble, just an immediate revelation. One you should have expected given the circumstances, but it doesn't shock you any less.
"Huh?"
"To bring you here, specifically." Liz then speaks on her member's behalf. "To spend time with you. Alone."
"We didn't know where else to start," Rei continues. "If you were a fan or not. Or if you'd recognize us."
"Which, you did," Liz clarifies. "Like, a lot. I saw the guests' expressions when we went over to you."
"You're a big deal, apparently," Rei quips, but it comes out half-hearted. "I thought he was joking."
You're still speechless.
"It's not our fault," says Rei. "I didn't think he was serious when he said he's bringing a fan tonight."
"Well, not really. No." Liz continues. "We're sorry. Really."
"Sorry, yeah," Rei adds. "We're truly sorry. Wonbin just told us to entertain you. And that's what we are doing right now."
"But, it wasn't fake. Everything," says Liz. "It was real. All of it. I promise."
"Promise."
Of course it's probably real to them. Wonbin's probably paying them by the hour—who knows at this point. Easier to maintain a lie than to continue with the truth, like applying a bandaid to a wound.
"I—" you start, but nothing follows. Your gaze tilts upward, at the pervading light, before falling back to theirs. Somehow, it feels sincere, genuine, everything they’ve said. They're looking at each other, expressions pained at having to pull the carpet so abruptly. "I—I understand."
The shift is instantaneous; one second they're genuine, remorseful human beings fully aware of what they've done, the next, the idol masks slip back on naturally, like it's deeply embedded in their skin. They're stepping towards you, forward for each instinctual foot you put backward till you feel the couch brush against your legs. Regardless, the regret lingers on their twitching, trembling lips.
"When we said it was real, we really meant it," Rei starts again, her eyes wide, trying to act playful, but she stops almost immediately. "Again—there are no fans in this place. Just—eyes. And bodies."
"Yeah," Liz quietly adds, carefully twiddling her fingers together, avoiding your gaze, deliberate as if you're judging how they move. "It's—not as fun as it looks. But—seeing you—reacting to us—actually enjoying yourself—" She inhales, "Wonbin was really right. He promised he'd bring us a fan, and here you are."
And Christ, they just know how to get through your heart.
Not that it's already so susceptible after everything that's unfolded—it doesn't matter anymore if this is still part of their rehearsed script or something they'd been told, like cameras are recording this very interaction right now and they have earpieces feeding them instructions in real time, it sounds heartbreakingly sincere that you can't help but forgive.
"I—I could never get mad—" you say, shaky, low sounding, because quite frankly, you can never get upset at your bias line, even if they were trying to purposefully anger you: "I'm just—shocked. At everything. That's all. He really had this all planned out—"
"Heard he paid the club and the agency triple the talent fee specifically to get us," Rei interrupts, chuckling, her usual cheeky self returning. "Didn't realize till a week ago when he personally went to us. At the goddamn company."
"He was determined," Liz adds. "Or, rather, desperate. Said it was a special occasion and wanted to do it for a friend. Never said anything about who it was for, but thank God it was you."
"Oh, come on," Rei cuts in, rolling her eyes, but there's no malice in her tone. Only light jest. "You were thinking the same thing."
"Maybe," Liz concedes, her lips curling into a sly smile. "It's rare, though. Fans are usually—boring. Closed-minded."
"God, yes," Rei sighs. "Thank goodness the actual fans aren't here. They'd hate this. This isn't—like us. If you know what I mean."
"Anyway," Liz then insists, "I'm glad we got to know you. The real you, hopefully."
"So—what happens now?" you then ask, tilting your head, all that buzz and shock starting to die out.
"It's—up to you," answers Liz, stepping ahead of her older member. "You can walk away now. Walk past that door and call it right then and there. At least we explained ourselves, and you saw us perform, which is what you wanted."
"And at least you were happy," Rei adds. "Right?"
"Of course," you reply, finally realizing the rather cornered position these two women have you in. You inch away from the couch, but they pin you at an angle where either girl can grab you the moment you reach for the door. "Always—it's been a dream to see you live and up close—but I never expected—"
"I don't blame you," Rei interrupts, smiling, her gaze shifting with that half-teasing grin that's just—ugh. "Anyone in your shoes would be overwhelmed that we could be that hot."
"But—if you want to stay," Liz hesitantly says, her eyes darting to Rei, before settling back to you. "Please stay."
"After all," Rei continues. "We promised him to give you a memorable experience."
"And you deserve it," Liz adds, gaining some of her member's confidence. "For being such a good fan—and a good person, I guess."
Somehow, even in a tension-filled situation like this, she manages to make you burst into laughter. Rei too.
"Jiwonnie, can you not—"
"Hey." She turns to meet her member halfway, cheekily grinning. "Maybe this is still a little too much—"
They've merged onto you, now mere inches away. You can feel their breaths on your skin, their collective gaze paralyzing, magnetic, demanding your every fiber of attention. Never have you been pinned like this—and rather than fighting or trying to resist, you allow it.
Let their presence utterly consume you. After all, that's what you deserve. Rei and Liz said it themselves.
And finally, the cherry on top: the subtle grip on your pants, on your clothed crotch—two hands, one from each member, measuring, pressing tightly on your hardening cock, only kept in check by the slacks you're wearing. Eying you head to toe, they find your buttons and zipper even in deep fabric, slowly parting them, till they can feel your staining precum through the underwear.
"So—what's it gonna be?" Rei questions, even though your mind has already decided on your behalf.
Slowly and subtly, the two girls lead you back against the couch. This time, you're freely falling back into it, completely under their spell. And your body just—surrenders.
Their response is short and sweet: "Good answer."
Rei and Liz leave you slumped on the lavish couch. Your pants partly halfway now down your legs, your body powerless and losing its will to fight completely. All you can do is watch them walk—fucking hell, they can strut—toward the TV and control center in the corner of the room, still performing, still on their A-game, like they're standing in front of thousands and not just for you.
Yet no amount of professionalism and idol training can cover their lack of knowledge with how the private VIP lounge works.
It's calm and quiet at first; just minor delays, something they can seemingly figure it out within a minute, maybe less than. Then Rei's visibly struggling with the buttons on the board, echoing out her frustration at having to pry and read the instruction manual from the cabinet below. Liz tries to help through it, but she's as equally clueless as to how anything works.
"Jeez—you'd think they'd let us inside this place during rehearsals—" Rei mutters, but Liz rubs a hand on her member's back, gently reassuring.
"C'mon, at least don't do it front of our good friend here—"
Immediately after, Liz turns her head toward you, smiling, raising the other hand. Just give us a moment.
No words need to be said, and you'd happily wait the whole night too.
The lights inside the lounge change colors, from a simple sparkly white to a disco flurry of blue and green, before shifting to a clean gold, reminiscent of the stages they performed earlier.
"Perfect!" Rei yells out, as if she had just discovered fire. She presses a button, and music begins to reverberate on the speakers hidden in the four corners of the room.
It's that remix of Attitude from earlier; that dancey, club remix that's unassuming enough to avoid suspicion. The two take positions parallel from each other on opposing ends of the room, and much like in concert fancams you've seen online, they walk toward each other during the instrumental break, their struts seductive and deliberate. As they unite at the center, where your gaze solely fixes on them, moving like a coordinated unit, they strike a pose.
Fuck. You can barely contain yourself on that couch. If you weren't already hard before, you certainly are now.
These are no longer idols, rather bodies now. Their collective gaze keeps you focused on their eyes—four piercing, daring eyes—but as you wander down, the real treat comes from their sultry, inviting gestures.
Rei's sweeping both her hands down her ass, arching her back to accentuate her figure, barely kept together by those cheeky shorts. Liz winks directly at you. Brushes her hair with a flick of her hand, biting her lower lip, shimmies her shoulder for a little move, absolutely confident in herself. Two completely different women, both equally hot, equally arousing. During the pause where they should be walking back to the main stage, of which there is none, they meet halfway, passing an unspoken message—
And then Liz slaps Rei's ass.
Lets one hand rest on her shorts. Rei smirks as she feels the impact. Closes her eyes, lets her friend and member tease for a bit. She angles herself that her back is facing you while Liz does the unthinkable: she undoes the zipper and slides it down. Rei finishes the job, letting it pool around her boots and revealing the matching gold underwear beneath.
She arches her back once more. Spreads it wide with her hands as the music fades in the background, becoming more like white noise at this point. Her ass is plump and firm; waist slender, the proportions just right. And her thighs are thick and meaty, perfect for squeezing and grabbing.
Liz grabs Rei's underwear, stretching it to the side, showing you her pussy, completely and utterly soaked.
"See how wet I am? I bet you just wanna touch it yourself right now, don't you?" Rei asks, but you're rendered speechless by what's unfolding. This is straight up pornography.
Liz grins. Strokes the side of Rei's leg, running her fingers up and down her pale, creamy skin. She takes a sampler of Rei's slick and puts it into her mouth.
Then Rei suddenly kisses her.
At this point, the two have stopped performing and are simply fucking right in front of you. Cupping each other's cheeks and all. You can see Rei reaching around the back of Liz's top, hustling for her zipper. She finds it and likewise, slides it down, giving you a glimpse of the expanse of her skin. Rei pushes it partly off her body, with Liz tossing it aside to be forgotten, now down to her black bra and matching skirt.
It's the hottest thing you've ever seen. As much as you want to get involved, you enjoy watching this.
Just as they're about to dive back into each other, Rei stops herself. She looks left and right, noting the music, remembering your presence: "Alright, this is kinda distracting."
You badly want to quip and say it's their song. Liz laughs and shakes her head.
"At least you know how to turn it off," she quips, but Rei shoots her this playful scowl that makes it worse.
She breaks free from the embrace and promptly turns it off within seconds. Turning her focus on you, Rei strides forward.
"Sorry we didn't push through with it," she remarks, smiling, but the tone is partially apologetic. "Can you imagine fucking to your own song?"
"I was about to say—" you start, your first words in a while, but she presses a finger on your lips when she climbs your lap, overpowering you, laying you down on the couch. It might as well be a bed by how wide it is. And maybe that's the point: this is where nights really and truly end.
With Rei's hand pressed on your clothed chest, Liz joins her on the couch, but not atop you. You've kicked your shoes aside at some point during their little tease, but Rei's finishing the job. Unbuttoning and parting the shirt, pants that were halfway down your legs now puddle at your ankles, along with your boxers. Your fully erect cock is now at their mercy, and they're wasting no time.
"Shit—oh fuck—" you shudder, groaning as Rei's fingers seize your cock, stroking it gently at a feverishly slow, but deliberate pace.
"You're pretty big, aren't you?" she remarks, smiling. Sweet but devilish. "Are you sure you can handle the both of us?"
"Please. He can't," Liz teases, sitting next to your thigh, her arm draped on the headrest.
"Give him a chance. We haven't even started."
"Well, you're the one who's touching him, so—"
"Okay, fine."
Rei's had her fill of stroking your cock. Now, her fingers are lightly dancing on your shaft, teasing, stealing that little bit of precum that would make Liz jealous. She leans down, hovering above your ear, her warm breath tantalizing. "Aren't you a lucky one, huh? Now you get to choose."
"Choose? But—"
Another delicate squeeze from Rei's fingers when you try to speak up. An involuntary groan escapes your mouth again. She brushes the precum on your skin, lets Liz eat from her digit, then caresses her hair with it.
It's gross; it's also hot.
"You heard me. You get one," she repeats, as if that makes it any better. You're staring at the ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts and ignore the stimulation.
"This is a test, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Sorta. Not really. Maybe?" Rei's trademark grin feels like an insult now. "I mean—I don't think you can handle both of us."
"Oh, come on. Don't sell him short, Rei," Liz suggests. "He can handle us. Can't you, baby?"
"I can," you insist, showing a little fight.
"I love that enthusiasm. But—enthusiasm can only get you so far," says Rei. "So you gotta choose."
"But, I can't choose," you continue, feeling Rei's grip tighten, but not painfully so. More like a challenge.
"You have to," Rei reiterates, her tone sterner yet playful.
"What if—what if I want the both of you?" you're pleading now, knowing damn well this opportunity won't present itself ever again.
"Hmmm—let's ask the other girl, shall we?"
Rei turns her gaze to Liz. They share a knowing smirk.
"I'm not sure. I don't think you can't handle the both of us," Liz responds, rubbing a hand on your thigh, making you tremble.
"Not even for a second?" you insist.
"Nope. No exceptions," says Rei, firm and final. “So you have to choose."
"But I haven't done—"
Another firm clasp of your cock, another pump through Rei's deft hand. She's leaving you gasping, reeling. The world suddenly feels like it's spinning on its head.
"Maybe we should pick for you," Rei suggests, and she's released your cock in place of the gold top she's wearing.
Quickly unhooking the clasp from her back and letting the zipper fly, she lets the piece of clothing free from her body, revealing—nothing. Casually tosses it aside to the floor, her tits are fully out: shapely, lush, and as big as some of those fansites and suspect fancams have captured. Liz, feeling touchy-feely, gives one of her breasts a firm squeeze, and Rei smiles at her, warm and genuine.
You can only imagine what they are like behind closed doors, but this is as close as you can get to finding out.
As much as you want to touch them, to know how they feel in your hand, you don't. Not even move a single muscle, especially when they have you pinned like this.
"How bad do you want it?" Rei asks. Liz is still feeling her.
You shake your head, too lost for words.
"Jiwonnie, your turn."
Rei turns to Liz, the two sharing grins back as she, in turn, unclasps her own bra, revealing her own shapely chest. She then squeezes Liz's breasts right in front of you, equally affectionate. They even exchange kisses while they're at it.
For a moment, you're nothing. A ghost.
But they're not stopping: Rei hops off you and the couch, Liz in tow, as she gets the younger member's skirt undone, digging her nails into her black underwear as she slides it down, leaving obvious nail marks and red spots on her skin. Ruffling each other's hair, making out without a care in the world, lost in their own little reverie while you just lay there and watch.
It almost feels too intrusive. (It is.)
Mid-kiss, Liz breaks. Rests her lips on top of Rei's. Tilting her head, her gaze flickers over to you, and she remembers you exist.
"Rei," she mutters, looking at her. "Still here—"
"Huh?" Rei has forgotten you completely. It takes Liz pointing you at her for her to realize. And when she realizes, she genuinely has no fucking clue.
"Oh, shit—sorry, babe." She's blushing, cheeks flustered all over in red. "We got carried away, didn't we?"
You lift an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, kinda."
"We're not used to having an audience—at all."
"The members don't hear you?" you joke. "In that dorm?"
"Let's not ruin the illusion, okay?" Rei interjects, patting Liz's arms, redirecting her member's gaze to her.
"Right."
"Besides, I thought you wanted the both of us."
The two women turn their attention back to you. Their gazes are otherworldly; one moment they look sweet, picture perfect, a frame worthy of cameras and adoring fans. The next: sultry, sensual, lethal. "So—have you—"
"Yes," you reply, not needing to finish the question.
Rei and Liz saunter back to the couch, taking their places on your lap and between your legs, respectively.
Propping you against the back of the cushions, sitting you upright, their laughs hauntingly fill the space between you and them. Then, the hands come back to claim their stake: one from each idol, stroking your cock, sometimes intertwining fingers, padding their digits with more of your precum. Your helpless, low groans complement their satisfied, playful giggles.
"Feels good to play with an actual cock for once." Rei gives your shaft a light, playful slap, like messing with a guitar. Enough to knock the little wind off your sails. "God, I wasn't ready to waste a second dildo in a month—"
"Shhh." Liz makes the silence gesture, smiling gently at Rei. "He doesn't need to know that."
Rei dips her head down as she tilts you forward. Your face melts against her firm, heavenly chest. Squeezing them comes naturally; they feel warm and handful, molded like they were meant for you. Her cute little moans fill the air, undeniably stimulated and aroused. Meanwhile, Liz has taken a seat next to you, brushing the skin of your shoulder blades, slowly, softly, like a feather.
"How do they feel?" she palms the back of your scalp, driving you in further.
Somehow, you manage to utter a single word against her suffocating skin: "Good."
"That's not a proper answer, You can do better than that."
"Great."
"Still not enough."
"They're the best—Rei—"
"Mhm. There we go."
She's grinding on you now, eyes fluttering shut, chest heaving, hips rolling up and down your skin in a slow, decadent rhythm that makes you wish she was actually bouncing on your cock than merely teasing. But it doesn't matter; not when you have your hands all over tits, pinching her nipples, sucking, indulging in them.
"Fuck," is all that escapes Rei's mouth as her grip on your skull loosens. Liz observes intently, biting her lip, resting her head on her chin, like she were studying and not preparing to take you next. Your face is burning red all over; whether from the heat of Rei's chest or from the sudden wash of embarrassment of being watched like this, you have no clue. The only solace is knowing that you're here, exactly where they want you to be.
Before it even registers, your hands fall on Rei's waist, gently lifting her rather feathery figure into the air and slamming it against your cock. The world stops when she cries out in pleasure.
"Oh fuck!"
She pushes your face away from her chest. Looks down at being embedded to the hilt. You and Rei's breaths come in quick, tense gasps. Liz lifts her head, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. For a moment, there's a danger that a line has been crossed, a boundary overstepped.
Then Rei forces you back into her chest and starts riding you again.
"C'mon. You want it that fucking bad? Give me all of it."
And you do exactly that: meet her halfway with each thrust, firmly grip her tits and consume them like you've found an oasis in the desert. Rei drowns in it—the kisses, the satisfied hums rippling through her chest, the way your cock fills her tight, wet cunt with each stroke—every little thing doing its part to make the feeling so otherworldly.
Right now, it's just two bodies coming together naturally, like pieces in a puzzle.
"Fuck, Rei—" you mutter against her tits, not stopping to breathe, not that you had any intention to. "I've wanted this—wanted you so fucking bad—"
She's too engrossed in pleasure to hear a thing; the sensations overwhelm her left and right, taking control of her body, moving of its own accord. Her words, when they come, they're from another place: "So good—you fill me so fucking well—"
And the pleas come naturally too. 'Harder' and 'more' and 'right there—'
You're kissing up her collarbone, letting Rei's warmth utterly swallow you whole. Guided only by instinct and the cadence of wet skin slapping against wet skin, you find Liz lost in her own pleasure too: she's sitting on the couch from a distance, two fingers pressed against her cunt, rubbing in quick, hurried strokes, equally as aroused, if not more.
Maybe this is what they were referring to: that they haven't had anything but dildos and each other for a while, they've forgotten what real cock feels like.
Or maybe they're just horny. Definitely that.
Your bodies cling to each other like oxygen. Any sense of rhythm has been lost in favor of raw, primal instinct. Just fucking go. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Whether it be your own thrusts or her crashing into you, not giving the other any respite. A fire burns in your souls that can't be quenched or satiated.
"Shit—you're gonna make me cum—" Rei mutters, her nails digging into your scalp one more, tilting your head upwards. Her collarbones and neck are marked red, fresh with bite marks and wet kisses of your own.
It only serves to fan the flames even wider.
"Do it," you command, growling, squeezing her tits as hard as you can, pointed with an edge you didn't know you had. "Make a fucking mess, baby."
You drive the point home with thrusts that are equally demanding and aching, forcing every last bit of resolve into her needy, quivering cunt. Each stroke is a punctuation, a statement, a declaration of utter want.
"Fuck—fuck—I'm gonna cum—I'm gonna cum—"
Rei's thighs clamp around your waist. Her fingernails dig deeper, and her pussy tightens around your cock, her walls closing in, drawing every last inch of your shaft.
"Cum for him, Rei." Liz stirs from a distance; she's merely a few feet away and it carries over through the wind. "Make him feel it."
Her command is what ultimately upends her: this cheeky little character, now drowning in a puddle of her own slick, cumming, screaming out in ecstasy as her orgasm hits like lightning. Her body trembles violently, eyes rolling into the back of her head.
As the high fades, so does her sharp cry, going hoarse and weak. But the euphoria doesn't stop.
You keep her in the air, suspended, filled with cock, still, and let her ride it out.
"Fuck, look at her." Liz appears awestruck at her friend's orgasm, slowing her strokes down. "Look how much she's cumming."
Rei's mind is gone. Her pussy is dripping all over, coating your cock in a thick layer of her nectar.
And it doesn't take long for you to follow.
Still pumping into her, far beyond your own control at this point, when she's a melting pile of flesh, you let it all go: thick and hot and unforgiving when it happens. Every drop poured into her needy cunt, staining the leathers and making deep marks on your skin that will stick for more than just one night.
"Oh God—so much—you came so much—"
"Yeah, give her that," Liz coos, distant but alluring. "She deserves it."
When the final drops are spent, you let Rei collapse onto the sofa. A thin connection of cum, thin and fragile, stretches as you pull out till it splits apart and dissolves onto the sofa. And the moment her bare, sweat-licked skin touches the cushion, she's out like a light.
"Is she alright?" you ask, dumbfounded, panting, trying to catch your breath.
"That's normal," Liz reassures you, standing up and sauntering over to your side. "Tends to happen after a nice orgasm. I know. I've seen it plenty."
"Doesn't sound normal," you quip, lightly smiling back.
"She'll be fine," she insists, cupping your face. "But right now, it's my turn."
Liz pulls you in for a kiss. It's soft and gentle and caring, nothing like the rough, primal energy that drove Rei's desire.
"Fuck—seeing you take her like that—" she mutters against your breath, "I want it too. But—"
Her hand snakes down to your withered cock, pumping slowly, gently, trying to breathe new life onto it. Nothing. Just a tired, exhausted groan from a man who's seen too much, felt too much, knows too much in a single night.
She tries laughing it off. "Ah. Right."
There it is: her trademark sense of humor. The way she casually jokes no matter the situation, how it's not far off from how she presents herself in vlogs, on camera, with the other members. Another sign that this is real. This is actually them.
"See something you like?" she then asks—and where do you even start.
Her smooth, toned legs. The way she slowly spreads them to reveal the dripping, wet pussy beneath. That hourglass physique. Smooth, toned abs that she barely shows, but Christ—you just want to dip your head and bury yourself in her warmth, her creamy, pristine skin.
"I'll let you choose. So long as you put that dick in me after."
Deal of the fucking year.
You push Liz forward, off the couch and softly come together on the glass table. Her back arches, body naturally sliding forward as you splay her like she's the most expensive piece of art in the world. Shoving aside the slowly melting, trickling bucket of ice and champagne that's been mostly forgotten up until this point, you go down and just—worship her.
She hums, satisfied, low, the occasional moan spliced in between, that it might as well be music. You're kissing from her neck and collarbones, soft and airy, creating little shudders coursing through her lithe frame. Down to her tits, giving them a handful, feeling how perfect they fit in your palm, how surprisingly shapely they are, when you consider Rei's just right there, unconscious, blissfully unaware.
Leaving a trail of tender, delicate marks when you reach her tummy, looking up occasionally to see the relaxed, gratified look on her beautiful face. Eyes fluttered shut, the way her breaths came in slow and steady, picture-perfect—just how you've always imagined.
And when you finally spread her inner thighs ever so slightly wide, giving yourself a clear view of how unabashedly, shamelessly wet she is—fuck. She might be more depraved than Rei.
You take your tongue. Drag it slow, up and down her slit—and Liz fucking keens.
"Ah—shit—don't tease—"
"No promises," you tell her, the sound muffled with her cunt, and you keep going.
From the way her thighs tremble, her hands scrambling to grab a hold of something, anything, her body writhing, her moans, her sighs, her everything. The way she moves, the way her voice cracks every other groan. How she bites her lip, holding her breath, then exhaling, letting the tension flow out.
How her hips roll and grind, urging you to go faster.
"Fucking eat me out, baby," she demands, her fingers curling around your hair, tugging you closer, if that even's possible. "Don't fucking tease."
And you oblige.
You flatten your tongue, pressing it flat against her folds, and lick. Wet, sticky, messy.
Liz absolutely loses it.
Her grip tightens on your hair, her body shudders violently, and the scream is enough to be heard outside.
"Fuck!"
Your mouth is coated in her juices, the taste lingering and sticking, but you can't get enough. It just—sucks you in, like she was meant to be consumed.
So you dive back in, and Liz is left to her own devices.
"Fuck—baby—yeah, right there, fuck," she whines, her breathing hitching, her body unable to contain itself.
The noises. The way she sounds. It's driving you crazy too.
"Goddamn, baby, you're so good," she whimpers, her words becoming incoherent, the pleasure building and building.
"Are you gonna cum?" you hum against her skin, a momentary pause, and the sight is glorious. Liz is an utter mess, her body trembling and shaking, her lower half completely soaked, her stomach glistening under the warm light.
"Please—not yet—I want to be—fucked—fuck—"
But you don't hear. Not really. Not when she's so ready, so wet, and tastes so good on your lips.
So you continue to devour her cunt, splayed and wet and constantly dripping, , as if it were the only thing capable of quenching your insatiable thirst. Even as she continues to beg, her thighs betray her, closing in naturally on your head as you eat her out.
For a moment, it seems like you won't stop.
Then you just—do.
One last kiss for her pussy, leaking on the marble table, pooling around her legs, and you watch: how exhausted and frantic she looks, how easily she folds. Her hands cling to her chest, her breaths coming in heavy, and she writhes on her side, the sensations unbearable, the pleasure overwhelming.
"Why'd you stop—"
"You said you didn't want to cum yet," you answer, casually, rolling her onto her stomach.
She laughs lightly. It ripples through her body in small, visible shockwaves. "And what if I wanted to cum right then and there?"
"No you didn't," you tell her, laying her prone, raising her lower half. Her back arches naturally, pressing her ass forward against your loins, like she knows what's about to happen.
"Glad I didn't miss this," Rei suddenly whispers against your back, and it surprises you; you look over your shoulder out of instinct. You'd forgotten that she was unconscious. "Jiwonnie, you're still so fucking loud."
"Told you she'd be okay," Liz mutters from up ahead, airy, still clearly in need of air, disregarding her member's little jab. Even through her long hair, she manages to find you over her shoulder. "Now fuck me. Let her watch."
"That's right. Fuck her like you fucked me," Rei adds, seductive, tilted up, meeting your gaze. She's got her nails dug deep into your skin, like she's puppeteering you. "Make her scream."
As if you needed any more reasons to be hard again.
You slide a hand down—or up—Liz's waist, the other with your hard cock, lined against her aching core. She trembles at just the touch—vivid, violent, ready. Rei's touching up your hair, your scalp, leaving small kisses on your back and skin. All three of you, somehow pressed together on an expensive table—and it isn't even remotely close to shattering. But you've seen stranger things happen tonight alone.
And you thrust into her without hesitation.
"Oh fuck!"
As expected, she cries out in pleasure and pain, enough to split your eardrums had you been a few inches closer.
Slamming into the depth of her cunt, how incredible does she feel—how effortlessly it slips into her heat after being so wet, so needy, that it feels like coming home. You let yourself bask in the pleasure of filling her for a moment, relish the sensation of her walls flexing and pulsing against your cock. Your head tilted back, eyes closed, taking in slow, deep breaths, ignoring the nails clawing at your back and on your neck, slowly wrapping around you like a vice.
You can't help but mutter it over and over like a prayer. Till your own voice cracks. "So tight—so fucking tight—"
"What are you waiting for," Rei murmurs against your ear, her arms wrapped around your shoulders, her breasts pressed deep against your back, her entire weight leaning on you. "Fuck her. Hard."
"Yes," Liz gasps, her body jolting and twitching with each word. "Hard. Please."
You pull out, almost all the way, till only the tip is left, and slam back into her.
"Holy shit," she whines, and her voice is broken, desperate, needy. "You feel so big—I can't—"
You can't see her face, but her expressions are probably priceless. Then again, the way your cock disappears and reappears in her cunt, with each thrust coating you in fresh waves of slick, is more than enough.
"Again," Rei commands, and you repeat the process, pulling out, and slamming back into her, quick, rough, that makes the table shake and the glasses rattle.
You have both hands on Liz's waist, her back in full view, her head bowed. She's taking every inch without complaint, without resistance—and you settle at a pace that's just right. Not too rough to have her gripping the table, have her screaming from the top of her lungs, but not slow that it feels unsatisfactory, that demands faster. The steady rhythm of wet skin slapping against skin guides every thrust, fading naturally into the background along with the club music from the outside—an indicator that the party is livening up.
"Tell us how much you love his cock, Jiwonnie," Rei teases.
"Rei, please," Liz sighs, a weak attempt at protest.
"Come on, Jiwon-ah," Rei coaxes, sweet and honeyed, her lips soft and warm. The gentle pecks she leaves on your shoulder, on the crook of your neck, are so comforting. "Just say it."
"It's big. So fucking big—" she answers, her words turning into a high-pitched squeal the next, her body shuddering. "And it fills me so good—fuck—right there, please, right there—ugh—"
Just like that, her plea just activates you. Your primal instincts naturally take over.
The pace you've meticulously been carrying—it starts out a few thrusts quicker, something she should be used to. Then all of a sudden, you have one hand yanking her long, luscious locks, tilting her gaze up, wishing there was a mirror large enough to reflect just how pornographic and sinful this is. Liz is back to screaming now, every word uttered a demand, another button pulled on the trigger.
"More—please—right there—that's it—harder—"
You're not sure in which order she says it, or how many times she begs, but you do exactly that. Each stroke deep, buried to the hilt, till she's on her fours now instead of ass up and lain prone on the table. And no matter how seemingly violent it gets, no matter how much the table rattles and shakes, it doesn't veer to the point of falling apart. It's almost as if it's trying to test you—to see how far you'll go, what limits can be pushed.
"Yes—fuck—you're fucking her so well—" Rei mutters against your skin, looking small behind your back, but her eyes linger on her friend and member getting used like this. "God, I can honestly cum just watching you—"
But you don't really pay attention. Your focus narrows on Liz, the way her body rocks with each pump, how it kindly responds, how her cries go back and forth between stable and cracked.
"Please—I'm so close—" Liz whines, shuddering as you drill into her again and again. The table is puddled with her slick now, reaching your knees, spilling onto the carpet below.
"Go on, then." Rei peeks her head out from behind you, like she'd been waiting for this very moment. "Cum for him. Make sure he gets every drop."
"He's going to break me—he's so deep—he's going to break me—"
"Almost there," you groan, and you have her by the neck, holding her up, her back arching further, her tits bouncing. "I'm going to fill you up."
"Yes, please," she moans, her voice breaking. "Fill me up, please."
It's a race to the top—or bottom—and it's neck and neck.
A handful of frenzied thrusts, a few strokes, a few moments where the world goes still, and you can't hold back anymore. You're still wearing the ache from Rei, and it's come back to haunt you now.
"Gonna cum again," you growl, and the sensation is overwhelming, a tidal wave crashing into a dam.
"Yes, yes, yes," Liz chants, her tone a staccato, her body shaking. "Fill me, fill me, fill me, please."
Right as you're about to finally come undone—
"Cumming—oh God—" she cries out, and that's the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.
Your mind goes blank; nothing registers for a few precious moments. You don't know who went first: you or Liz. What does matter, when you regain cognizance, is that it feels hot and heavy. And so, so satisfying.
You see this: your cock, deep inside Liz's needy womb, throbbing relentlessly, her cunt milking you for all your worth. In return, torrents of her nectar flood your shaft, the table somehow still holding the world and everything that's on it (you three), her body violently trembling through your collective climaxes. Even still, you don't stop, at least not right away—you're still pumping into her, riding out what little semblance of control you have left, letting her drain you till your very last drop.
And then you finally stop. Your body finally concedes. Again. The table stops rattling too.
Gripping onto Liz's waist like she's your only lifeline, like she's oxygen, buried deep to the hilt, when you pull away, it stings. It aches. It cries out like it doesn't want to leave, but you have to. And when you do, her pussy's dripping, gushing in your cum. And it's a beautiful sight.
"Holy shit," is all Rei can say, sliding off your back and onto the crescent-shaped couch.
"God—it's so deep—" Liz whimpers out, low, her mouth hanging wide, "So full—so, so much—"
You wonder if she'll just collapse right then and there, the same way Rei has. She remains on her fours, not moving, just breathing, her pussy still leaking with your cum, trying to let everything sink in. Maybe this is the breaking point, where the table finally gives up. You're afraid if you move away, it'll collapse like it was supposed to.
But no. Nothing happens. You cross a nonexistent bridge back to the couch and join Rei, and Liz is just—there. Stuck on the table, frozen in time like a statue, like an art piece. A messy, sticky masterpiece.
"Isn't she perfect?" Rei remarks, now lain back with a leg raised. She sounds so casual about it.
"Mm," is the only sound you manage. The answer is deliberately vague. Your head is spinning, your body is in shambles, and you don't know what's gonna happen now.
Then Liz begins to move. Slowly but surely, she turns around, still on her fours, and crawls over to the couch. When she no longer feels the weight of glass underneath her, she finally slumps on the cushions—and exhales.
"This—tonight—has been—a lot."
There are no better words to describe what has transpired. A simple night out with a friend, a favor to repay, ends with you and two of your favorite idols hidden away in some expensive private lounge, doing unspeakable deeds. Actions that would ruin both you and their lives should word wind up even in questionable—not just wrong—hands.
And the thing is: the night is still young.
So when Rei pushes you onto your back, laying you back on the couch, and Liz, who you thought should be a goner at this point, are now atop of you, sharing a look and then smiling gently at you, you know you're still very much getting started.
—————
The end comes like any other thing too good to be true: a mere phone call, an insistent buzz that shatters an otherwise peaceful room.
All three of you are lying on the floor. Rei to your left and Liz on your right, a perfect body sandwich, flailing your hands, lazily reaching for the source. Rei fishes it out of a pocket miraculously, none of you know whose clothes belong to who (other than yours—you left your phone at the entrance). The number is familiar to everyone.
"Wonbin," she mutters as the screen brightly flashes against her eyes. "Think this is yours," she adds before handing it over to you.
So you answer the call. Of course it's him.
"Hello." It comes out hoarse, raw, like you'd been stretched for hours—which you were.
"Yeah, we gotta go now," he says from the other side of the line. "Turns out dad got the family a flight in 4 hours so we gotta bail. Sorry to ruin—um—whatever you had going on."
And all you can think in the moment is: God, Wonbin is the fucking worst. You can't even have this.
"Yeah. I'll see you in five," you manage to utter, even with your disappointment.
They don't say a word, don't question your abrupt departure; they've heard the call. From the star, they knew this was only temporary, merely their part of the agreement, a deal. But you wish they genuinely felt something.
Because you did.
Even as you rush to dress up, they just stay there. Sat on the floor, watching you pick up the pieces, returning to a life that they have a part in, but will never really see.
Maybe they won't ever see you again.
So as you give them one final look as you ready yourself to walk out the door, they give you a simple pair of smiles. Picture-perfect, public-ready, trained smiles. Liz even goes as far as to raise a hand to wave goodbye. But breaking through that veneer, there's a tiny flicker, a dash of sincerity that makes you believe that there's something more.
And for you, that's more than enough.
—————
The ride home is quiet. Awkwardly, eerily quiet.
Wonbin’s taken up the other backseat. A driver, one of the family butlers, has been sent to pick you both up. He left his car back at the valet, he said, that another servant will take it back later, since he's needed at home immediately.
You're both staring out the windows, watching the city quietly pass you by. Neither of you dare to glance at the other. Questions will be raised. About what happened in those rooms. About what you did with Rei and Liz. About what he did with Yujin and Wonyoung.
But you're pretty sure you already know. He does. Both of you. It's all over your faces. Flushed, bright red with embarrassment. The silence in the car says it all.
All you can think about is how it ended—not the phone call, but the last thing they did before your bodies finally gave out for good: Rei and Liz taking turns with your cock in their mouths while you laid back and watched them share it between themselves, until you came a few more times and they painted their faces with your cum and made a scene out of it.
The rest is a blur you can't fully remember; only flashes and images: more of them sucking your cock, except you're on two feet, somehow, with your hands tangled with their hair. Pouring the champagne and whiskey on their bodies for you to lick off, Rei getting your cock between her tits, Liz riding your face while Rei is riding your cock again and they were making out on top of you—
"Dude." Wonbin's finger snaps you out of your daze, finally breaking the tension. "Talk to me. What was it like?"
You stare at him like he's a stranger for a few moments. A minute, even. "What is even there to talk about?"
"You know." He gestures at nothing, referring to the nightclub, the girls, everything.
There are so many things to say. Many different answers. You could say it's the best night you've ever had. That he's the bestest friend that anyone could ever ask for. That he's the greatest person in the whole goddamn world.
Instead, you say, "It was a gift. One I will always appreciate."
Wonbin seems satisfied with the answer, nodding. "Well, I'm glad. This is probably the only time I'll get to do something like this."
"Something like what?"
"I mean, you know—actually do something nice. For a friend."
He's smiling—not mischievous, not teasing, but genuinely, truly smiling. Like he's actually done something meaningful in his life for once. Maybe this is what you truly owe him: a reason to care, evidence to show that he does, actually, mean something to someone.
The anger you felt when you left is gone. All is well.
"You're not gonna tell me what happened, are you?" he then asks.
"Of course not. Why? Are you?"
Wonbin breaks into that playful grin. His eyes light up at the question. "Of course! Remember when I said Yujin and Wonyoung were mine—"
You smile. That's all you can really do.
(Until the car stops at your apartment five minutes later while he's barely getting started and he vows to finish the story when he gets back from Switzerland after his car begins moving away again.)
—————
(A/N: holyshit im sorry this took for-fucking-ever
but yes. your boy is working an internship that has effectively drained this man's soul. 7-5 weekday shifts for only $1.80 a day is no fuckin joke man. all that just to graduate. we're almost there. the only respite i have is that the ive concert is only a few weeks away as of writing. and these gold and black fucking outfits man. all of them look so fucking insane its actually driving me crazy. i've had this on my mind for a bit, and i wasn't gonna do annyeongz justice, but couplez were just as hot in these fits. i cannot wait to see these up close in person, especially the attitude dance break that inspired this fic, shit's gonna be crazy. this extended break was the only way i was gonna somehow finish the fic and just in time for the show as well. but at the same time, i need money in some shape or form because lord knows finding a job in the big 2026 is damn near impossible. anyway, here's hoping the next fic will drop sooner than later. 5th anniversary is upon us, and i have a lot of things to get off my chest. to better days ahead. thank you for reading!)
14k words | smut, fluff, hard sex, strap-on, double penetration, spitroast, late christmas special (again), just straight up smut
━•✦•━•✦•━
‘Girls, would you please set the table?’ you said loudly, with your back to them.
You were in the kitchen, carefully removing the tray from the oven to check it. The sea bass had been cooking for about twenty-five minutes, its skin crispy and the aroma of lemon and pepper filling your flat and making your mouth water. Next to it, on another tray, the vegetables — two carrots, a courgette and a pepper cut into strips — were already ready, golden brown and tender.
It was Christmas Eve, and you were preparing a dinner in the purest traditional Milanese style, as it should be. Outside, it was snowing, and you had all the blinds open just to enjoy the enchanting view of the snowflakes falling gently and sticking momentarily to the windows, which reflected the Christmas lights scattered throughout the flat. At your feet, the pair of piranhas you called your cats sat on their hind legs, waiting patiently for a piece of fish that would never come, no matter how much they made eyes at you and meowed.
‘We're coming!’ you heard them both say from the living room.
Rina was the first to appear on your right, leaning on the counter with a half-empty glass of Pinot Grigio in her hand. She was wearing an adorable outfit, a red sweater with puffy shoulders and a black skirt, matching her short black hair and the headband that adorned it.
‘Is the fish ready?’ she asked, coming closer to sniff. ‘Woah, it smells so good!’ she smiled.
‘Almost, almost,’ you replied as you put the tray back in the oven, closed the lid and adjusted the temperature. ‘Five more minutes and we'll take the vegetables out too.’
A couple of seconds later, Wony walked behind you and stood to your left to take plates out of the cupboards. Her outfit was a little less colourful than Rina's, but it maintained the elegance she loved to wear: a black skirt, just like Rina's, but with a khaki knitted jumper.
‘Do you need help with anything else, darling?’ your girlfriend asked, also taking cutlery out of a drawer near your feet.
‘Nope,’ you shook your head, taking a step back to look at them both. ‘Just go sit down and wait for the food, okay?’
‘Understood,’ Wony came up to you, gave you a little kiss on the lips, and turned to hand a couple of plates to Rina. ‘Help me with this, jagiya.’
Rina took the plates, nodded, and let Wony give her a little kiss on the lips, which made her blush. Then she just followed her to the dining room.
The scene would have caused a stir for you eight months ago, when you still didn't know how the hell you felt about Rina and exactly how she felt about you. But now that you were in this unconventional but happy relationship involving the three of you, you had gotten used to it. Whenever Wony kissed you, she kissed her. Whenever Rina kissed you, she kissed Wony. And whenever you kissed one of them, you kissed the other as quickly as you could.
That Wony liked Rina and vice versa was never a secret to you; it was obvious every time those two were together. A year ago, on that night when Aeri had also been involved, it was evident to you from the way they looked at each other and the way Wony chose to have Rina kiss her instead of kissing you. Not to mention the hunger with which they devoured each other's pussies and other attitudes that gave them away.
It wasn't an easy feeling to unmask, of course. Wony had told you that at first she thought it was just sexual attraction, just like it was for you. However, Rina had done everything she could to make you reconsider how you felt about her, even if it was unintentional, because you were sure that those were never the stupid cheese cat's intentions, it just happened that way; she was a girl who made it easy to love her.
Two months had already passed since you made it “official”. You never stopped to think about how good a decision it was, or what the consequences might be in the future—even though you knew very well that they might not be entirely pleasant. It was simply the best decision, period. After all, it was the decision that, for now, made all three of you equally happy.
You would have time later to discuss whether it would lead to a good place or not. For now, you were happy with your two girls.
Dinner was ready exactly when you had calculated. You took the fish out of the oven, along with the vegetables. You placed both trays on the worktop to your right, where you combined both elements on the sea bass tray, ready to serve. All that was left was the pasta, which was already drained and waiting in the pot; you had mixed it with butter and dissolved saffron, with a little grated Parmesan cheese on top.
You picked up the tray with the steaming fish and carried it to the dining table, right in the center, next to the wrapped panettone waiting for dessert. Wony and Rina were already sitting across from each other, their glasses of white wine refilled, chatting and giggling.
Wony's eyes lit up when the food was placed in front of her.
"Woahh!" she clapped her hands excitedly. "It looks delicious!"
You smiled. Every time you cooked something, your number one fan was always her. Partly because she loved you, and partly because that girl just loved food in general. Frankly, you didn't care how much of each it was; all that mattered was seeing her happy when you cooked delicious things for her.
Rina, ironically, was more restrained in that aspect. Although, surely, at that moment, with her eyes darting everywhere and her hands on her thighs, it was because she was hungry and impatient. Her way of showing both feelings was, as funny as it was, by doing nothing.
"Oh, and wait until I bring the pasta, you're going to die," you said, and then looked at Rina. "By the way, go easy on the wine. I don't plan on getting drunk today."
"Speak for yourself," Rina said, and took a sip of her wine.
"I'm going to hide the bottle."
"Aniyooo!!" she whined with a couple of foot stomps, half-laughing.
"I don't plan on getting drunk today either, honey," Wony added.
Rina looked at her with raised eyebrows and pointed to her glass.
"Then why are you drinking too? Huh?" she asked.
"Because I was keeping you company until you decided to stop."
"Oh yeah? And what if I never stopped?"
"We'll never know," Wony shrugged. "Because he already took the bottle without you noticing," she looked at you.
Rina frowned, and looked to where the bottle had been before. Not finding it, she looked at you.
"Oh, come on!" Rina pouted. "You're so boring!"
You chuckled, holding the bottle behind your back. Then you turned on your heel and walked towards the kitchen.
"Sorry, but I'm not going to let what happened that night after the Love Your W event happen again," you said, placing the bottle on a corner counter.
"We all ended up equally drunk that night!" you heard her say, as you grabbed the pasta pot with two oven mitts and carried it to the table.
"Because you were the worst influence," Wony replied calmly. "I'm pretty sure you were already a little tipsy when Ezio picked us up in the limo."
Rina chuckled softly.
"Well, at least I wasn't worse than Aeri."
"At least she knew when to stop," you said, hoping she'd catch the hint.
After placing the pot on the table, you took the tongs from your pocket and began serving the girls' plates first.
"You talk as if you didn't benefit from it," Rina said playfully.
"I talk as if I had the worst headache of my life the next day."
"But you had the best sex of your life the night before."
"One thing doesn't cancel out the other."
"Um, can we eat now?" Wony asked, looking at the pasta on her plate. "Everything looks delicious and I'm starving."
"Let me give the babies their food first."
With the three plates served and everything ready on the table, you went to the kitchen, grabbed two cans of wet cat food, and served them to Rory and Helios. If the whole family was having Christmas dinner, then it was the whole family, period.
"Now we can eat," you said, returning to the table and sitting at the head, with Wony on your left and Rina on your right. You looked at the latter. "Do you want to say a little prayer, sweetie?"
"Yes!" Rina nodded, and proceeded to clasp her hands together above the table. You and Wony imitated her. "Father God, thank you for being able to be here today with these two wonderful people who make me so happy. Thank you for this moment and for this food; we receive them with a peaceful heart. Amen."
"Amen," you and Wony repeated, with a small smile on your lips, before beginning to eat.
Wony, obviously, was the first to take a piece of fish with the vegetables and put it in her mouth. Her ecstatic expression and rolling eyes indicated that you had done an excellent job.
"Oh my god, I love you so much," Wony said after swallowing.
"Is it good?" you asked, about to try it yourself.
"It's incredible," she nodded, before putting another piece in her mouth.
"And the pasta?" you turned to look at Rina, who was chewing it.
"So good," she replied with her mouth half full.
You smiled and tasted your own food. They definitely weren't lying; you had nothing to envy of Gordon Ramsay's culinary skills.
"I accept tips," you said jokingly. "I don't get paid for any of this."
"We'll give you your tip later," Wony said, now focused on the pasta.
"A very generous tip," Rina added.
You knew perfectly well what that meant, so you chose to eat in proud silence, with a slight smile at the corner of your lips.
Dinner was pleasant. Nothing out of the ordinary. You and Wony mostly ate in comfortable silence with Frank Sinatra Christmas carols playing in the background, nodding at the occasional witty remarks and comments your extroverted girlfriend made, who was even more cheerful than usual that night.
Wony finished her plate first, then you, and finally Rina. You didn't leave any leftovers, not even a little bit of fish, even though the sea bass were quite large. That's how good everything had been. Even you were surprised, as it was your first time cooking a complete Christmas dinner in a long time. Maybe it was time to dedicate more time to gastronomy?
"Oh wow, that was delicious," Wony sighed, settling back in her chair, legs crossed.
"Do you still want some panettone?" you asked, taking a sip of your eggnog.
Wony looked at you, tilted her head, and let out a sigh.
"You know, honey?" she said, in that tone of voice she always used to lecture you. "We all know that since we've been together, I've only gotten prettier every day; you could say you have a very good touch."
"But...?"
"But sometimes I feel like you want to fatten me up so you can eat me for years."
You and Rina burst out laughing.
"Me?" you pointed to your chest. "Nah, what are you talking about?" You picked up the panettone box and turned it so she could see the front. "I'm just offering you some delicious hazelnut and pistachio panettone."
Wony sighed and looked at Rina.
"Do you want some?"
Rina nodded quickly, taking a sip from her glass.
"Well, fine," Wony resigned herself. "But let's go to the sofa."
"Are we going to watch the movie?" you asked.
"The Grinch?" Rina asked.
"Well, I wanted to watch The Polar Express."
"Oh no, I hate that movie," Wony said, frowning.
"Hm? Why?"
"It looks weird."
"And what do you want to watch?"
"Hm..." Wony put a finger to her lips. "A Christmas Carol?"
"That looks even weirder," you replied.
"Yeah, but I always like to see how Mr. Scrooge redeems himself and stops being a grumpy, stingy old man."
"Like me?"
Wony shook her head.
"You're just grumpy, sweetie."
Rina giggled.
"Well, thank you," you said, picking up the panettone box and standing up. "Go brush your teeth, please."
Rina and Wony left all the plates piled up to be washed later and stood up to go to the bathroom in your bedroom. They came back five minutes later and settled on the sofa while you were now the one brushing your teeth. When you returned, you sat down to Rina's left, the panettone on the coffee table in front of you as you searched for the movie you were going to watch on the TV.
But just then the doorbell rang.
You frowned and looked at both Rina and Wony, who looked just as confused as you. You made a silence, and seconds later, the doorbell rang again.
"Who could be ringing the doorbell on Christmas Eve at 11 o'clock at night?" Rina asked in a low voice, then looked towards the window. "And snowing."
"Didn't Juyeon say something about coming over tonight?" Wony asked, looking at you.
You shook your head and stood up.
"He couldn't come because something came up," you said, walking towards the hallway that led to the door. "I really have no idea who it could be."
Since you didn't have a peephole, you went to the door and pressed your ear against the wood, trying to hear any clue that would reveal who was on the other side, but there was only silence. With a heavy exhale, you finally put your hand on the doorknob and opened the door.
On the other side, you found a stunning woman with dark red hair. And not just any woman, but your first love. Your first princess. She didn't know it, but you truly owed her almost everything you had in your life today. Seeing her always made you instantly jolly.
"Hi, Oppa," Sully greeted with a slight smile, her hands clasped over her stomach.
"Hi baby," you replied, grinning from ear to ear as you looked her up and down. She was wearing an oversized black and white striped sweater, a short white skirt, and tall boots, with her backpack slung over her shoulder. It was unusual to see her with hair that wasn't brown, but you had to admit that the red suited her wonderfully.
"Uh... I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked.
"Not at all," you shook your head and paused. "Although, well, we already had dinner, and I'm afraid there's nothing left."
Sully giggled.
"Oh, that's okay," she said, now looking you in the eyes. "I already ate before I came here."
"Okay okay, good to know," you stepped aside, noticing the tiny snowflakes in her hair. "Come on in. You must be freezing."
"Actually, I am," Sully stepped inside the apartment, left her bag on the floor and stopped just a few inches in front of you. "Why don't you warm me up a little, daddy?"
You glanced down the hallway, made sure neither Rina nor Wony were peeking, and wrapped an arm around Sully's waist, pulling her close. She wrapped her arms around your neck, and like perfectly synchronized clockwork, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss.
After almost four years, you and Sully knew each other practically inside and out. Your hands always found their way to the right places; your hands roamed her back, caressing her, keeping her close, while she moved her hands through your hair, stroking the back of your neck before cupping your face in her delicate hands. It was easy to get carried away with her, especially when your breaths grew heavy and you allowed yourselves a few extra seconds to savor each other's lips, so you had to summon all your willpower to break the kiss.
"Alright, that's enough, you little minx," you whispered, taking her by the shoulders to pull her away. "Let's go say hi to the girls."
"Will you help me with my backpack?"
"Anything you want, sweetheart."
You took Sully's backpack, closed the door, and gestured for her to go ahead. As you crossed the hallway and turned left, Rina was the first to turn around and get up from the sofa when she saw Sully.
"Yoonah-ya!" Rina said with a wide smile.
"Unnie!" Sully greeted back.
They quickly closed the distance between them with short steps until they met in a brief hug. Wony, more reserved but with a slight smile at the corner of her lips, also got up and joined them. After they greeted each other, you placed Sully's backpack on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa.
"You're just in time," you said, as Sully sat down to your right and Rina to your left. Wony had no choice but to sit to Sully's right. She didn't seem too happy about it, but you knew she wouldn't make a big deal out of it either; of all the girls, Sully was one of the very few whose behavior towards you she tolerated.
"Hm? Why?" Sully asked, hands on her knees.
"We were going to watch Christmas movies and eat panettone!" Rina replied.
"Oh, really? Well, I brought my Switch in case you wanted to play."
"Maybe not right now," Wony interjected. "I'm not good at video games, and we already have other plans."
"Ah… yeah, I understand. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, dear," Wony shook her head and stroked Sully's hair on one side of her head. "I don't mean it in a bad way. By the way, it's not that I mind you, but what are you doing here? It's late, and it's Christmas Eve."
"And it's snowing," Rina added, reaching an arm across in front of you to brush snow from Sully's hair. "Woah, your hair looks so pretty."
Sully let out a shy giggle.
"Thanks, unnie," she said to Rina, then turned to Wony. "Well, uhm... I was supposed to be with Jinsol and her family tonight because Chaeyoungie is not in Korea, but..."
"Uh, remind me who Jinsol was?" Wony interrupted. "Bae, right? The short haired one?"
"Aha," Sully nodded. "I had an argument with her."
"You having an argument?" you asked, as the rarity that it truly was.
"She went too far with a joke and almost deleted my Minecraft world that I've had for 5 years!"
You sighed. Wony didn't bother to hide her disbelief. You could understand it, and maybe Rina could too. But Wony was the most chronically offline girl you had ever met, so it probably seemed childish to her.
“And that’s why you’re here, sweetie? Because of a prank?” you asked.
“You know how much my Minecraft world means to me!” Sully protested. “You know it because you love me! Doesn’t she love me? I’m her best friend, she should know! If she knew, she wouldn’t do such stupid things.”
“Um, maybe she didn’t mean any harm, I don’t know.”
“She said I was overreacting and that I was immature!” Sully raised her voice, exasperated. You pursed your lips to keep from laughing; it was kind of funny seeing her like that. “Me! The one who didn’t pull the stupid prank in the first place!”
Silently, Rina leaned over to pick up the panettone box and placed it on Sully’s lap, who looked at her with a frown.
“Um… would you do the honors?” Rina asked with a nervous giggle.
Sully took the box and sighed.
“I guess,” she said, starting to open it. “How was dinner, by the way?”
“Oh, delicious,” Wony said. “Our chef outdid himself.”
“And we gonna give him a generous tip later,” Rina added.
“Um… why?” Sully asked. She wasn’t paying much attention, focused on opening the panettone box. You had to give her a hand.
“Well, because that way you can contribute to the tip we’re giving your beloved ex-boyfriend.”
“But… I didn’t bring any cash.”
“I accept bank transfers,” you said.
Rina nudged you in the ribs, glanced at Sully, and gestured for her to come closer so she could whisper something in her ear. A subtle smile played at the corners of Sully's lips, and she returned to her seat.
"Oh, right," Sully nodded. "I'm sure I can contribute, then."
"Great!" Wony clapped her hands together. "Honey, put on the movie, will you?"
"On it."
You quickly found it, as you had left the search halfway through when Sully arrived. Once it was playing, you settled back on the sofa and, nibbling on the panettone, settled to watch the movie with the girls.
The first hour of the film passed peacefully. The three girls watched attentively, showing no hint of their true intentions. They even managed to make you forget about it in your concentration on the movie. It was easy for them, though, since A Christmas Carol was one of your favorite Christmas movies.
That's why you didn't even notice when Rina placed a hand on your thigh.
You glanced down a few seconds later, but didn't think much of it because it was something she could have done without ulterior motives. Nor was it strange that Sully did the same on your other thigh, as she loved constant physical contact with you. However, the lightbulb really went off above your head when both of them, asynchronously, began to caress the inside of your thighs with their fingertips.
"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered to yourself, and turned to look at Rina. "Couldn't you have picked a better time?"
Rina raised both eyebrows and looked at you with her head tilted.
"Hm? I don't know what you're talking about, darling," she said, and looked back at the television.
You sighed. You weren't even going to bother asking the same question to the insolent little slut on your right. The only option was to accept your fate: there was no way you were going to be able to concentrate on the movie.
You confirmed this when, minutes later, both Rina and Sully snuggled closer to you, Rina letting you feel her breasts pressed against your arm, Sully with one of her legs partially resting on yours.
It was then that Rina, as slowly as she could, moved her hand up your thigh until she was pressing against your bulge with the side of her hand. Sully imitated her. Soon, neither could resist and they ended up placing their hands right on top of your bulge. There was no squeezing at first, they just left their hands there and let time pass, feeling you get hard.
Feeling the outline of your already hard erection under her hand, Rina finally closed her fingers and gave you a light squeeze that made you gasp. Sully lowered her hand a little, and following Rina's lead, very delicately squeezed your balls. The fondling continued for a while, with both of them taking turns massaging your cock over your sweatpants, soon causing you to stain them with pre-cum.
"Can't you really let me watch the movie first?" you asked, holding both of them by the waist.
"Nobody's stopping you from watching the movie," Rina replied softly, before reaching under your pants and boxers to pull out your cock. "Mmm... look how much you're dripping already."
"Hold on until the end of the movie, daddy," Sully whispered in your ear on the other side. "Don't pay attention to us."
You pursed your lips and grumbled. It was easy for her to say; if you were the one fingering her pussy, she'd be whining for you to stop the movie and fuck her already. That had happened before.
Rina wrapped her fingers around the base of your cock in a firm grip, while Sully wrapped hers around the tip and a little further down. Together, they began moving their wrists up and down your shaft. You clenched your fists, groaned softly, and glanced to the right, over Sully's shoulder. Wony was watching everything out of the corner of her eye, biting her lower lip and shifting restlessly. She wanted to participate, but for now she had to settle for watching.
You let out a low moan as Rina and Sully sped up the pace just a little. Rina moved her hand up and down, from the middle of your shaft to the base. Sully, meanwhile, focused on moving her fingers around the tip and the upper half, with twisting motions that made you hate the moment even though you were enjoying it immensely.
A little later, Rina brought her hand to her mouth, spat on it, and put it back around your cock. Sully did the same, and this time, instead of focusing only on the tip, she worked in tandem with Rina to move her hand all over your now saliva-covered cock, simultaneously going faster.
Sully must have noticed in your eyes that you were close to cumming, because she quickly signaled Rina to stop with a hand gesture.
"Mmghh!!" you groaned, clenching your fists. "Fucking hell..."
"You have to finish watching the movie first, daddy," Rina murmured, pressing your arm between her breasts. "Hold on a little longer, okay?"
"Are you aware that there's like 30 minutes left of the movie?" you asked.
"So what? It'll be a little exercise in willpower."
"Don't be a crybaby, daddy," Sully said, caressing your balls with the palm of her hand and giving you little kisses on your neck. "I already told you, just ignore us and you'll be able to hold out."
"Easy for you to say, slut."
Sully chuckled softly through her nose.
"How rude."
After giving you enough time to recover, Rina and Sully went back to work, keeping you on the edge for a torturous ten or fifteen minutes during which every muscle in your body was tense. It was probably one of the worst experiences of your life, or maybe the best; you really didn't know how you felt about it. All you knew was that when it was over, you were going to fuck them so hard they wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow. Maybe that's what they wanted.
Rina, without saying a word, let go of your cock and sat further away from you, towards her end of the couch, only to lower her body and lie on her side, with her head on your lap. Already knowing what was about to happen, you held your breath and pursed your lips as she pulled your pants down further, took your cock, and put it in her mouth.
"Oh my god this shit is ridiculous," you grumbled to yourself, trying with all your might to concentrate on the movie while Rina slowly began to pump her head up and down on your cock.
"You better keep quiet," Sully said, settling down in the same way as Rina, causing Wony to move a little towards her end of the couch. "The more you say, the worse it'll get. Focus, daddy."
Before you could protest, Sully rested her head on your lap as well and joined Rina, kissing and licking the areas Rina couldn't reach with her mouth. She was given her turn to have you in her mouth seconds later, when Rina moved on to licking your balls and around the base. Sully increased the pace without hesitation, with faster pumps for every inch and less care about letting her saliva drip onto your shaft.
Looking for help, you turned to look at Wony.
"Why are you letting this happen?" you asked. "I swear I want to die."
"Because you look cute constantly being on the verge," Wony replied calmly, watching as Rina and Sully licked and kissed both sides of your shaft, their lips occasionally meeting. "I wish you could see yourself in a mirror, darling. You look like you're about to cry."
You scoffed.
"Go to hell," you said, forcing yourself to look at your TV screen.
"That's not going to stop you from not cumming until the movie's over, sweetie," Wony retorted. "In fact, you know what? Yoonah, sweetie, may I?"
Sully lifted her head from your cock and looked at your girlfriend over her shoulder.
"Can I touch you in the meantime?" she asked.
"Deal," Wony replied.
Wony and Sully quickly switched seats, with Wony now lying down to your right. Now both of your girlfriends were sucking your cock, but Wony mostly took control, with aggressive, deep-throating sucks, spilling saliva around the base of your shaft, which Rina then collected with her tongue and spat back onto your balls.
Suddenly, Wony moaned around your cock. Looking to the right, you noticed that Sully had lifted your girlfriend's skirt, pulled her panties down to mid-thigh, and was touching her pussy, her lips slightly parted and her gaze fixed on Wony's crotch. You couldn't see exactly what was happening from your angle, but you were sure Sully would be fingering her soon.
The last few minutes of the movie passed like that. You came close to cumming about three more times, but Sully knew you too well after four years of fucking you and having memorized every face you made at every moment, so it was easy for her to tell the girls when exactly to stop.
The end was approaching, and you felt your balls about to burst. Sully was now fingering Wony, with subtle wrist movements. Your two girlfriends, meanwhile, were salivating and sucking on your dick, their lips meeting along every inch of your shaft and even your balls. The long-awaited moment coincided with Wony having you in her mouth and Rina sucking your balls.
"C-can I cum now?!" you asked, looking at the movie credits pop up on the screen.
"Mhm," you heard Sully nod.
Like a genie released from its chains, you put your hand on Wony's neck and roughly pushed her head down, forcing her to take your cock deep into her throat just as you exploded inside her mouth.
Wony closed her lips around the base of your cock and gagged against it. She tried to swallow every thick stream that shot into her mouth, but ended up coughing and spitting out the whitish fluid mixed with her own saliva. The result was a mess of viscous fluids around the base of your cock, dripping down your balls and wetting the leather of the sofa.
"Mmmgh fuck, fuck, fuck..." you groaned under your breath, one hand on Rina's ass over her skirt and the other on Wony's bare buttock.
"Mmm, what a good boy," Sully said with a giggle. "Even I didn't obey you that well."
"You better shut your mouth, Seol Yoonah," you panted, watching as Rina and Wony worked together to clean your cock and balls. "If I catch you, I'm going to leave you paralyzed for a day."
"Reward or punishment?"
Sully slapped Wony's ass, making her squeal with one of your balls in her mouth, and began to move her wrist, fingering her pussy. Wony, after having swallowed enough of your load, lifted her head to look over her shoulder at Sully.
"Damn, your fingers are really long, aren't they?" Wony gasped.
"And they can make you cum in less than two minutes," Sully said, in a husky voice you rarely heard from her. She definitely never used it with you, since she was never the dominant one. "Want to try?"
Wony moved away from your lap a little and brought her ass closer to Sully, almost like a cat in heat. Sully smiled sideways and looked at you.
"I'll borrow one of your girls for a little while, daddy," she said, almost defiantly, as she fucked Wony's pussy with her fingers. "You'd better focus on the other one."
"It's good you say that because that's exactly what I was planning to do."
Rina continued to polish your cock, determined to leave it spotless and without a single drop of cum remaining. You had to grab a handful of her hair and lift her head to make her look at you. Rina moaned at the treatment.
"You were the one with the idea, weren't you?" you asked, holding her face with one hand. "Wasn't there something that would make me suffer less?"
"A lot came out, daddy..." she replied, wiping some cum from her chin. "I think you rather loved it."
You gave her a sharp slap on the cheek. Rina moaned.
"I hope you know how to deal with the consequences."
With a tug on her hair, you forced Rina to sit up and then lean against the back of the sofa, looking at you the whole time. You didn't ask permission to pull her sweater out from under her skirt and then take it off, leaving her in a black lace bra which you then also removed.
You stood up, took off your sweatpants and boxers, and knelt on the edge of the sofa to reach Rina, but a series of sweet moans caught your attention to your left. Wony had already completely removed her panties and skirt, and in a most peculiar image for you, she was straddling Sully, hugging her neck, while Sully had one arm around her waist and was quickly fingering her with the other hand.
"Since when do you enjoy being the dominant one?" you asked, simultaneously spreading Rina's legs and lifting her skirt.
"Since Chaeyoung asked me to," Sully replied, letting Wony moan in her ear. The sound of her palm slapping your girlfriend's ass was getting louder every second. "Now I love dominating pretty girls, as long as they don't like dominating more than I do, of course."
"Ah, interesting. And do you also fuck them with strap-ons?"
Sully fell silent and looked towards her backpack on the coffee table, a tiny smile playing on her lips.
"Maybe you'll get a surprise if you check the other big pocket."
You raised both eyebrows and looked at the backpack. You thought she was joking; imagining Sully fucking another girl with a dildo strapped to her lower body seemed like a far-fetched idea. Now the possibilities were deliciously better.
"We'll save that for later," you said. "How many centimeters?"
"Eighteen."
You whistled.
"Woah, you didn't skimp on size, I see."
Finally ready to focus on Rina, you lowered your gaze and brought a hand between her legs, expecting to encounter some fabric that you would have to push aside to access what was underneath. To your surprise, you found bare, soft, and wet skin.
You looked into Rina's eyes. She was biting her lower lip, suppressing a smile.
"No panties?" you asked, running your fingers up and down between her tender, soft folds. "On Christmas Eve? Are you serious?"
"A Christmas present for you, Daddy," Rina replied, bringing a hand to your cock to rub it, trying to revive it. "Are you going to give me mine now?"
You chuckled.
"You wish."
Rina let out a moan as you pushed two fingers directly inside her pussy, pushing them in little by little until your knuckles stopped you.
"Can you guess how many times I want you to cum as compensation for your little torture?" you asked, wiggling your fingertips inside her to rub her upper wall.
"Nnngh," Rina twisted her hips and looked up at you. "Two?"
You pretended to get up and leave her.
"N-No!" Rina quickly grabbed your wrist so you wouldn't pull your fingers out of her. "Three?"
"Three times," you nodded. "So you'd better get started."
Rina whimpered as you slapped one of her breasts with your free hand. You left that hand resting under her breast. Then, you started moving your other wrist, fucking her pussy with your fingers at a steady, deep pace. You soon sped up; a minute later you were slamming the palm of your hand against her crotch with every thrust.
Conveniently, Rina came for the first time just as Wony did. Both of them shrieked into the air, coming around the respective pair of fingers that were fucking them. Sully seemed to have the same intentions as you did with Rina, because she didn't stop once Wony came. Like you, she kept moving her wrist. You couldn't hear it, but she whispered something in your girlfriend's ear that made her moan.
"Come on, again, jagiya," you said, looking Rina straight in the eyes as you fingered her wet pussy at full speed. "Be a good girl so you can get your Christmas present."
Rina bit her lower lip between whimpers and arched her back, lifting her chest. You squeezed one of her breasts, your fingers playing with her nipples. Her thighs were still trembling from the recent orgasm. Another slap on her breast made her shriek with pleasure, but you quickly silenced her by putting your hand around her neck. That made her cum a second time.
Sully was having a harder time with Wony. This time Rina's orgasm hadn't coincided with hers, but you could tell your girlfriend was gradually melting with pleasure as she kissed her all over her face and neck.
"One more time, darling," you murmured, and brought your hard cock close to her mouth. "Here, a little motivation."
Rina immediately took your cock with her lips, and without using her hands, managed to get more than half of it in, sucking it avidly while your fingers moved quickly in and out of her dripping pussy. In the process, you also squeezed each of her breasts.
Wony finally exploded to your left, and you couldn't help but watch as she squirted all over Sully's lap. The two of them were now kissing fiercely, the redhead with her hands on each of Wony's buttocks, squeezing and rubbing. Again, it was strange to see Sully as the active one, but it wasn't an unpleasant image at all. It felt natural, for some reason.
Back to your own business, you put your free hand behind Rina's head and pushed your cock further into her mouth. You took control, fucking her mouth and quickly making her drool all over her own breasts. She moaned wildly around your cock, and closed her thighs around your wrist when she came.
You pulled your cock out of her mouth and let her whimper freely. Rina's whole body writhed on the sofa. Her smooth, perfect thighs trembled and contracted around your wrist, while her pussy spilled warm fluids onto your fingers and hand.
"Such a good girl," you said, cupping her face in your hand. She rubbed against it. "Ready to receive your present?"
"Yes, daddy," Rina nodded, still catching her breath. "Very ready."
You pulled your fingers out of her pussy and brought them to her mouth for her to clean them. Then, you took off the knitted Christmas sweater you were wearing and sat back on the sofa, both arms resting on the backrest and your legs spread apart so that the focus was on your erect, throbbing cock.
"Come ride me and put those tits in my face, then," you said.
Rina, despite still trembling, quickly straddled your lap, her breasts right in front of your face. She then rolled her skirt up around her waist, lifted her hips, and grabbed your cock with one hand to impale herself on it with a single, gentle downward thrust.
"Oh God!" Rina moaned, placing her hands on your shoulders, her ass resting against your pelvis.
"Mmmgh," you leaned forward slightly to lick one of her nipples. "Ride that cock, baby. Be a good girl and play with your little present."
Your girlfriend started moving her hips up and down, engulfing and releasing your cock with her silky, wet pussy. She moved along every inch, sliding her hands to your neck to pull you into a kiss. You simply left your arms resting on the backrest, letting her enjoy herself for a while.
As Rina and her breasts bounced gradually faster on top of you, one of the two missing girls settled down next to you on your right. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed dark brown hair and a naked, model-like body.
"Yoonah has amazing fingers, daddy," Wony whispered in your ear, then planted little kisses on the side of your face and down to your neck. Her hand went to your abdomen and slid down to your crotch to gently cup your balls. "They feel almost as good as yours."
Sully, also completely naked now, got up from the couch, walked behind Rina, and sat down on your left, leaning towards Rina and taking one of her breasts into her mouth. Rina moaned louder and grabbed Sully's head as she slammed her ass against your pelvis.
"It's good you clarified that," you said, lowering your left arm to hold Rina by the waist and wrapping the other arm around Wony's waist. "For a moment I thought you were going to propose to her."
Wony giggled.
"Jealous?"
"Not at all. She's not going to fuck you better than me."
"You say that as if she had a dick to fuck me with."
You chuckled softly, but didn't say anything. Rina was now in the stage of less pronounced but faster bounces, near her climax. Sully's contribution was to rub Rina's pussy and sucking and licking the same breast over and over again.
"Huh? What are you laughing at?" Wony asked,
"You'll see. I think you'll enjoy it."
Rina quickly came with a cute, loud squeal. She slammed her butt against your pelvis, and in such a sexy way that it made you groan, she began grinding her hips back and forth. Her upper body collapsed against your chest, breasts pressed against your skin, and she kissed you while cradling your face and writhing on top of you. You wrapped your arms around her and kiss her back, then slid your hands to her butt and squeeze it.
"Get off, unnie," you heard Sully say to your left. "My turn."
"Huh? No way, it has to be my turn," Wony retorted. "I'm his girlfriend!"
"And I'm his princess," Sully said. "Besides, take it easy. I know why I should go first."
"Oh yeah! How mysterious!" Wony scoffed. "And I'm his princess too!"
"I had him all to myself first."
"Shut up, both of you." You said, pulling away from Rina's lips. However, you continued to give her little kisses. "Yoonah, would you do me the favor of going to wait for me at the kitchen island?"
"Legs spread or bent over?"
"Legs spread."
"Yes, daddy."
"What a slut..." Wony grumbled.
"Let's just say she hasn't had the best influences over the past few years." you patted Rina's butt. "Move over, sweetheart."
"Jagiya, you know it's already twelve o'clock, right?" Rina asked with her hands on your chest. "Merry Christmas."
"That's right," you smiled, and gave her several little kisses on the lips. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart," you turned to look at Wony and gave her the same number of kisses. "And Merry Christmas to you, my sweet girl."
"Merry Christmas, my sweet boy," Wony smiled, and hugged you both. "And Merry Christmas, jagiya."
Wony and Rina shared a quick kiss, and then the three of you hugged tightly.
"Not exactly the jolliest or saint way to celebrate Christmas, though." You said.
They both laughed.
"Grossss!" Sully yelled from the kitchen. "Daddy, aren't you coming?"
You turned to the left to see her perched on the front edge of the kitchen island, behind the dining area. She was, indeed, sitting with her legs spread, her feet resting on the edges. From where you were, you could tell she had recently shaved, probably that very day.
"I don't know what you call gross when you and I used to be worse," you said, pushing Rina off you to stand up and go to Sully. "Do you want me to remind you of the ISAC’s night three years ago?"
"Nope! That was a completely different Yoonah."
You stood between Sully's legs and placed your hands on the counter on either side of her hips to look her closely in the eyes.
"It shows, because now you even wear strap-ons," you said. "But let me make this clear," you lowered your voice. "You'll always be daddy's favorite little slut."
Sully tilted her head and looked at you with those stupidly beautiful little eyes that you would never stop being in love with.
"And your favorite pussy?" she asked with a soft, soothing voice.
"There are two back there giving you some competition, but yes."
"And..." Sully brought a finger to your chest and slowly dragged her fingernail down to your abdomen. "Your favorite ass?"
"I've never fucked your ass, Yoonah."
Sully pursed her lips and lowered her hand to your cock to rub it, covering her hand with Rina's fluids.
"Do you want to?" she asked. "It'll be your Christmas present this year."
You chuckled softly and leaned in to plant a small kiss on her lips.
"Does the red in your hair mean you've become Santa Claus?"
Sully laughed and wrapped her legs around your waist to close the distance between you. Your dick brushed against her wet pussy. Frankly, you were dying to fuck her that particular night. It was definitely the new hair color.
"No, unfortunately," Sully shook her head. "But I do have the Christmas spirit very much alive inside me."
"How jolly. Don't you want something else inside you?"
Sully tightened her legs even more around your waist, making the back of your cock press between her folds.
"I'm craving it, daddy."
"Do the honors, then."
Sully slid a hand between your bodies, grabbed your cock, and, without needing to lubricate it since it was still wet with Rina's viscous fluids, guided it into her pussy. The tip was quickly swallowed between her folds, and you pushed forward to slowly bring the rest inside her.
You slammed your lips against hers as she wrapped her arms around your neck. Sully moaned against your lips when you were deep inside her, and she released your waist to spread her legs wide. A couple of seconds later you started moving. Hard from the start, with thrusts that shook her every time your pelvis collided with her crotch.
The kiss lengthened and became increasingly messy and intense, your tongues intertwined. You ran your hands all over her delicious body, feeling the soft skin of her back under your fingertips. Finally, you left your left hand across her waist, and placed your right hand on the back of her neck, fingers firm there.
Sully moaned louder and louder in the middle of the kiss, and tugged at strands of your hair with her fingers tangled there. You lowered your hands and rested them on the counter, on either side of her hips. Now you were going harder but just as fast. The sound of flesh slapping together became present then, mixing with your muffled moans and the moans of Wony and Rina, who were surely involved in their own activities back there.
After pounding into her pussy in a prolonged frenzy, Sully dug her nails into your scalp and exploded around your cock with a shriek. She sank her teeth into your lower lip, so hard that it made you let out a small grunt, while her thighs and hips trembled with pleasure.
For the first time in several minutes, you pulled away from her lips and traced a path of wet kisses from her jawline to her neck, where you lingered to lick and kiss. Sully enjoyed her orgasm amidst heavy panting, caressing you from your hair to your shoulders, keeping you close to her at all times.
Seconds later, Sully grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you closer to her face so you could look into her eyes. You never tired of seeing her face bathed in lust, with her eyes slightly narrowed and her lips parted. On this occasion, she also had some of that new red hair stuck to her forehead and face from the sweat.
"Mmmgh, don't stop fucking your little princess, daddy," she purred, before cupping your face with both hands and planting little kisses on your lips. "I want that load all to myself."
"In the ass?"
"Yes, but hold on and fuck my pussy a little more, can you?" she asked. "I want to enjoy you while the birds of prey are focused on their own thing."
"I love those birds of prey, in case you forgot."
"I'm still your favorite," Sully smirked. "And I was before, when you were with Hanni. In fact, I think it doesn't matter who you're with, you know? I'll always be your number one."
"Alright, that's enough, you insolent little slut."
You grabbed Sully by the neck and pushed her back, forcing her to support herself on her elbows on the counter. Sully had a smug smile on her face, satisfied with having gotten under your skin. And of course, the damn smile didn't disappear even when you resumed your frantic thrusts against her still sensitive pussy.
"Am I lying?" she managed to ask.
"Shut the fuck up, Yoonah," you growled, and tightened your fingers around her neck to prevent her from speaking. Your other hand went behind her knee to push her back as you fucked her pussy as hard as you could. "I swear to God I wish you had never met Yeseo or the others."
"Th-that's... aaaaa... a l-li-e..." she managed to gasp through the constriction in her throat.
You squeezed your fingers tighter, and with that, she finally fell silent. Sully's eyes rolled back; her mouth slightly ajar. Only faint glimpses of moans managed to escape her throat, and they really only sounded like soft gurgles.
You maintained your iron grip for a record amount of time. Much longer than usual. Her face was already turning red, but you knew your girl well; if you had been hurting her or if she were in an unwanted situation, she would have already given you a signal that you would have immediately heeded. But the signal never came, and since it never did, you continued to squeeze her neck while her pussy suffocated your cock.
A little worry crept into your body when Sully's legs relaxed too much and her eyes narrowed. The worst was when her lips turned pale and she stopped blinking. You were about to let go and scold her for not telling you to stop sooner, but just then she came so hard and so suddenly that it gave you a good scare.
"Are you crazy or what?" you asked with a frown, finally releasing her neck.
Sully took a violent gasp of air and fell back, letting her head hang over the opposite edge of the kitchen island. Her whole body trembled as if she were being possessed in The Exorcist. Her thighs, shaking as if they were being subjected to constant electric shocks. Her toes permanently curled. And when her orgasm subsided enough and she caught her breath…
She burst out laughing.
"Oh my god, she's completely lost her mind," you muttered to yourself. "Hey! What the hell are you laughing at? I almost killed you, you crazy bitch!"
The laughter didn't stop, and you started to think that you really had knocked a screw loose in her head. A while later, she lifted her head and looked at you. Tears streamed down her face.
"That's the hardest I've ever came in my life," Sully gasped. "Who would have thought I'd have to be between life and death to experience it!"
"Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because I'm not doing that again."
"But!-"
You raised a finger.
"Absolutely not," you shook your head. "And I'll find out if you even think about asking Chaeyoung."
"Damn, you're so annoying!"
"Stay here, I'm going to get the lube," you said, pulling out of her. "I have to fuck your ass before you get even more insufferable."
"Hey! Who are you calling insufferable?" Sully demanded as you turned your back and walked towards the hallway. "Hey!"
You ignored her. Before you entered the hallway, your attention was inevitably drawn to what was happening on the living room sofa. Wony and Rina had moved to the longer part of the couch. Rina was on the bottom, as usual, while Wony was eating her tits and fingering her. Neither of them noticed your presence, so you went straight to your bedroom, grabbed the little bit of lube you had left, and returned to Sully.
The redhead, despite acting like an insolent brat, was still in the same place where you left her, in the exact same position, slowly touching herself while watching your two girlfriends have sex from there. However, her attention was quickly diverted to you when you arrived.
You looked at her in silence, standing in front of her. She didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that you were about to fuck her ass for the first time.
"Aren't you nervous?" you asked, the open bottle of lube in your hand.
"Nervous about what?" Sully tilted her head.
"I'm going to fuck your ass," you replied, putting lube on your fingers, which you then brought to Sully's butthole.
"So what?" Sully gasped as you inserted two fingers into her ass, slowly lubricating it from the inside as you pushed them further in. "Chaeyoung has already put things in my ass."
You inserted the full length of your two fingers inside her and moved the tips upwards, stimulating her a little. Sully moaned as you added a third finger to dilate the hole a bit more.
"Oh really?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "When you're in a lesbian relationship, you have to experiment a little in the absence of a cock."
"What did she put in you?"
You rotated your fingers inside her to point the tips downwards. The movement made her stifle a gasp against her pursed lips. Soon she started breathing more heavily.
"And you let her put all that in you?" you asked. "Certainly, your slutty level is at a point of no return, honey."
Sully bit her lip and moaned as you withdrew your fingers from inside her.
"And I love it," she said with a sigh. "Because it drives you crazy and it drives my girlfriend crazy. What more could I ask for?"
"I have to agree on that," you acknowledged. "But there's no way I'm going to choke you like that again. Control your sluttiness."
"However you want, but please just put it inside me now," Sully pleaded, watching your dick throb. "Can I put the lube on you?"
"Whatever you prefer."
You handed her the bottle of lubricant. Sully poured a generous amount into her hand, and as it dripped, she brought it to your cock, rubbing it back and forth, the lubricant dripping onto the floor from your balls as well. When she had left your shaft glistening, she guided it to her ass herself, rubbed the tip in circles against her butthole, and then grabbed your waist to pull you towards her.
"Oh my god!" Sully moaned as your cock slid with incredible ease into her little ass.
"Oh my god indeed, fuck!" you gasped, your mind blown by how incredibly well her ass gripped your cock, the entire length of it inside her. You almost didn't want to move; it felt insane all on its own.
"Yeah, you love my ass now, don't you, daddy?" Sully asked, and leaned back again, resting on her elbows. "It's all yours to fill, daddy."
Still a little breathless and unable to fully process what was happening, you grabbed Sully behind the knees and pushed her thighs back, starting to move your hips. Sully dropped her head back and parted her lips, gasping as her chest rose and fell erratically. She finally started to moan when you brought her legs together, placed both her heels on your shoulder, and hugged her thighs to thrust hard into her ass.
Sully's entire body was shaken by your thrusts, her small breasts bouncing too. No moans came from her mouth, only heavy, broken gasps. What she wanted was to scream with pleasure; you could see it in her eyes as your cock went in and out of her tight butthole. But every time she tried, a new wave of pleasure paralyzed her beautiful face and made her lose her breath.
It reached a point where you were thrusting so hard against her ass that the collisions sounded like little firecrackers. Your hands squeezed her thighs, trembling and tense beneath her soft skin, and your arms were clasped around them as if they were going to escape you. You couldn't do anything but pant and groan, for the pleasure was overwhelming for both you and her.
"D-daddy!" Sully managed to shriek through the thrusts. "Fuck, don't stop! Don't stop! Nnnghhh!!"
"Mmghh!!!" you groaned.
Your thrusts were violent, almost with a kind of contained hatred that you pulled from somewhere for no specific reason, just for that moment. The result was Sully cumming like crazy without you even having to nearly suffocate her to death. She brought both hands to her face and let her back fall against the counter, finally managing to let out a sharp, tearing scream that vibrated your eardrums.
"And I'm not finished with you, bitch," you growled through clenched teeth.
While Sully's mind and body continued to melt in tremors and contractions, you let go of her legs and pulled her by the arms so she would sit up and get off the counter. Her legs almost gave out, but weak as they were, Sully managed to stand and turn her back to you, as she already knew your intentions perfectly.
"Hey, what are you two doing over there without us?" you heard Rina's voice behind you, from the living room.
"None of your business for now!" was the first thing that came to mind as a response. Maybe not the most appropriate, but your brain had few places to go at that moment.
With one hand on her neck, you forced Sully to bend over the counter, her ass raised and legs straight, feet slightly apart, her beautiful, semi-curly red hair falling down her back. You went back inside her ass with surprising ease, sliding in with a single smooth motion that made you groan aloud. Then, hands on her ass, you continued to fuck her ass like an animal.
Sully writhed against the counter, her hands in a constant, desperate search for something to hold onto as you hammered her ass from behind. Her hair looked gorgeous, so you grabbed a handful of it and pulled it back, your other hand gripping her waist.
"I'm going to fill your damn ass," you growled, more of a statement than a warning. "A damn cream-filled pastry."
You gave Sully a stinging slap on the ass, eliciting a little yelp, and squeezed her buttock with all your might. Seconds later, you let go of her hair and gripped her waist with both hands, watching as you violently jiggled her ass with each thrust.
Your climax wasn't far behind. Sully had another intense orgasm, now clinging to the edge of the counter, and the way her butthole tightened around your shaft was the perfect trigger for you to thrust forward and explode deep inside her.
"Ughhh!!" you groaned. "Good fucking lord!!"
You and Sully moaned incessantly, her face pressed against the cold surface of the counter, her hands still gripping the edge out of pure nervous reflex from the short circuit in her brain as you ejaculated in torrents into her ass, which quickly filled up and forced you to slowly withdraw. By the end of your orgasms, only the tip of your cock remained inside.
And just as you pulled out, a short-haired beauty pushed you aside and knelt behind the trembling Sully. You could only watch, stunned and breathless, as Rina stuck out her tongue to collect every drop of your cum that spilled from Seol Yoonah's dilated butthole.
The other beauty arrived behind you. Wony hugged you from behind and rested her chin on your shoulder to look at you as you mentally composed yourself. She caressed your abdomen and chest, then grabbed your slippery, still sensitive cock and rubbed it with her palm.
"Did you have fun, my love?" she asked, kissing your neck and cheek. "It sounded like you were having the time of your life. Without me."
"You weren't having such a bad time either, darling," you replied.
"Oh, certainly not," Wony sought your lips for a kiss and looked into your eyes. "Our Jiminie has incredible skills with that tongue."
"I know that for a fact."
You both looked at Rina, busy eating all your cum from Sully's ass, who was looking at her over her shoulder with her face covered in disheveled hair.
"Go to the bedroom, all of you," you said. "I'm going to get Yoonah's backpack and I'll join you."
Wony gave you one last kiss on the cheek, helped Rina to her feet, and checked that Sully was okay before leading the three of them down the hallway, straight to your room. You went to the living room, grabbed Sully's backpack, and opened the pocket she had told you about. A smile spread across your face. Inside was the holy grail: an 18-centimeter realistic dildo, embedded in a strap-on made of linen straps. After zipping the backpack up, you grabbed it by the top and went to your bedroom.
The girls were already in your bed, lying side by side. Sully was in the middle, facing Rina who was kissing her, with Wony behind her holding her waist and giving her little kisses on her neck and back. All three pairs of hands were moving from breasts to pussies, as close to each other as they could get to keep each other warm.
"Sullyoon-ah," you called out as you entered the room, closing the door behind you. The redhead broke the kiss with Rina to look at you. "Ready to fuck a couple of cuties?"
Rina and Wony exchanged glances and then looked at you, confused.
Sully sat up in bed and reached out for the backpack.
"Bring that over here."
You tossed the backpack in front of her. Sully opened it and immediately pulled the strap-on out.
Your girlfriends' eyes widened.
"Huh?!" they both said in unison.
"Since when...!?" Wony said.
Sully grabbed the strap-on and put it on with surprising skill, fitting it snugly against her lower body. She then lay back down between Wony and Rina, hands behind her head and legs spread, showing off her fake penis.
"So? Are you going to suck it or not?"
"But you won't feel anything!" Rina protested.
"Who said I won’t?"
You discreetly slipped into bed and lay on your side below where Wony was, propped up on one elbow. Her butt was just inches from your face, and you didn't hesitate to lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek.
"Biology!" Rina retorted, and tapped the strap-on's dildo to make it jiggle. "It's not real."
"Shut up and suck it, unnie."
Sully grabbed Rina by the back of the neck and, meeting no resistance, pushed her down onto her fake penis. Rina took it into her mouth and sucked it without complaint, as you would expect from her. The redhead, with one hand behind her own head, smiled proudly, guiding Rina's movements along every inch.
"Gosh, that's so... weird to see," Wony said, and then looked at you as you pushed one of her thighs towards her torso to gain access to her pussy. "Since when do you know about this?"
"Since no more than an hour ago," you replied, spreading one of your girlfriend's butt cheeks to give her pussy a lick. "You're going to have both holes fucked at the same time, don't complain."
Wony moaned softly and ran a hand through your hair as you ate her out.
"I didn't know Yoonah-yah enjoyed fucking girls," she said, looking at the girl to her left. "Did he egg you on to wear that?"
"I egged him on to let me wear this," Yoonah replied, watching Rina suck on her dildo from top to bottom. Then she looked at Wony. "And yes, I'm going to love fucking you, cutie."
Sully winked at her, and Wony was left speechless, blushing. Even you, busy with your tongue and lips on your girl's folds, smiled proudly.
You forced Wony to, for the moment, focus on you while you gave your dick time to come back to life. First, you laid her on her back, then spread her legs and held her thighs. Your licking quickly made her moan and writhe on the bed.
"Can I ride your, um... dildo, Yoonah-yah?" you heard Rina ask to your right.
"I'd be happy for you to," Sully nodded.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rina straddle her, and in the same way as with you on the sofa, she impaled herself on Yoonah's dildo up to the hilt. The older girl let out a muffled moan, placed her hands on Sully's breasts, and began to move her hips on her.
"And I always saw you as the sweet, introverted princess of NMIXX," Wony said to Sully between gasps, but with her gaze fixed on you.
"I've always liked giving pleasure without receiving anything in return," Sully replied, watching Rina's breasts bounce with each thrust against her dildo. "Your little boyfriend can confirm that. I gave him blowjobs before bed without him even asking."
"I don't remember asking you, sweetie," Wony said, and then moaned when you licked faster. "Oh fuck."
You inserted two fingers into your girlfriend's wet pussy, in preparation for what was to come. Your tongue, meanwhile, was focused on her clit. The combination of both brought her to climax in less than two minutes.
Wony grabbed your head with both hands and pushed your face against her pussy as she came, her hips writhing. You licked your girlfriend eagerly, savoring her, then rose up and positioned yourself on top of her to kiss her fiercely. One of Wony's hands quickly went down between your bodies to grab your cock, stroking it and slowly bringing it back to life.
To your right, Rina had planted her feet on the bed and was doing squats on the dildo. Yoonah was firmly gripping her breasts, with a generally masculine attitude and demeanor that you found stupidly sexy. It was something you never thought you'd see, and the fact that Rina was the first girl you saw being fucked by her on that strap-on only made it better.
After a little while of making out and groping each other with Wony, she managed to get your cock hard again, and without wasting any time, she grabbed it to guide it between her folds, rubbing your tip against them. You, not wanting to make her wait any longer, straightened your back, grabbed one of her legs behind the knee, and thrust your cock inside her.
The moan Wony let out coincided with Rina's as she came on Sully's dildo. As you began to move your hips to fuck Wony, you glanced to the right for a second to see Rina collapsing to her knees against the bed and against Sully, with whom she melted into a sensual kiss.
Seconds later, Yoonah made Rina move away from on top of her. Wony then looked at her as she knelt beside her, the dildo wet with Rina's fluids just inches from her face.
"W-what do you expect me to do with that?" Wony asked as you fucked her gradually faster, both hands on her thighs pushed back.
"Suck it," Sully said flatly, one hand on the base of the fake cock.
"But you can't..."
"I said suck it," Sully insisted.
Wony looked at you incredulously, offended at being given orders by someone other than you, but in the end, she had no choice but to let Sully put the dildo in her mouth.
Despite her initial resistance, Wony quickly got used to the sensation and completely forgot that she was sucking a dildo. This was partly because you had shifted into a higher gear and were now pounding her pussy with deep, fast thrusts, making her moan around the silicone cock. It was also because Sully was doing an excellent job asserting her dominance, with one hand permanently on the back of Wony's neck, guiding the rhythm.
"How about you fuck her mouth?" you asked.
Sully looked at you and then at the girl below. Wony looked up at her and, after a few seconds, nodded with her mouth full.
The change of position was quick. Wony was now on her elbows and knees, legs spread, her ass raised for you. You re-entered her from behind, while Sully penetrated her mouth from the front. That's when Sully's previous experience with Chaeyoung started to show, as she held Wony's head from behind and moved her hips naturally.
Sully pushed her dildo deeper into Wony's mouth. Your girlfriend took it like a pro, barely gagging even though her throat was now being fucked with increasingly rough thrusts by the red-haired girl. Behind, it wasn't much different: your pelvis slammed with increasing force against her buttocks, making her body shake forward.
Wony did nothing but moan like a slut in heat, her saliva dripping from her mouth onto the sheets. Rina watched everything from the right, lying face down, already recovered from her recent orgasm.
"Mmm, that's so hot," Rina sighed. "It's my turn next, right?"
"It's not like there are any other girls, right?" Sully replied. "Come here and kiss me."
Rina immediately got up and knelt beside Sully, wrapped her arms around her, and kissed her.
Sully, with one arm around Rina's waist to keep her close, grabbed a handful of Wony's hair and, while thrusting her hips back and forth, pushed Wony against the dildo to complement the movements. Wony then started to gag, but not because it bothered her throat, but because all the saliva was pooling in her mouth. It wasn't until she came that Sully gave her a break.
"Mmm, you really enjoyed that, didn't you?" you asked, stroking your girlfriend's buttocks and lower back as she had her orgasm around your cock. You gave her a little slap on one buttock and made her squeal.
"I... I have no comment, mmmgh" Wony moaned, collapsing face down onto the mattress.
"Daddy, do you want to check the little pocket on the side of my backpack?" Sully asked. Rina was still hugging her, giving her little kisses on the neck.
Panting, you leaned to the side to grab the backpack and open the pocket Sully was pointing to. A giggle escaped you. Inside was a still-sealed bottle of lubricant. You took it out and showed it to her.
"You seriously carry this stuff around?" you asked.
"Of course not! I just had a hunch I'd need it today," Sully patted Rina's butt. She looked at her. "Who do you want to fuck your ass, Ezio or me?"
"Ezio," Rina replied.
"Alright," Sully looked at you. "How do we do this? As you can see, I have no experience double-penetrating a girl."
"Leave it to me. Jimin-ssi, sweetie, come here."
As gently as you could, you moved Wony to one side of the bed and lay down in the middle. Rina looked confused, not knowing what to do.
"Just lie on top of me. On your back."
Rina did so, and as soon as she rested her back against your chest, she lifted her knees so you could grab them from behind and pull them towards you, putting her in a full nelson position. You planted your feet on the bed, knees bent. Sully knelt in front of you both as she opened the bottle of lubricant.
"You're not a butt virgin, are you, unnie?" Sully asked. You couldn't see anything, but you soon felt the slippery liquid dripping onto your pubic area, as Sully must have been lubricating Rina's butthole.
Rina moaned as Sully inserted her fingers. You were giving her little kisses on her shoulders and the back of her neck.
"I'm not," Rina replied.
"Okay, then I can do this right away."
Sully proceeded to lubricate your cock as well, and seconds later, she grabbed it to guide it into Rina's butthole, which yielded effortlessly and allowed every inch of your shaft to slide in up to the hilt. You and Rina moaned loudly. Then, as you started moving your hips up and down, Sully settled into a squatting position, with her feet in front of your thighs, so she could insert her dildo into Rina's pussy.
Rina was momentarily paralyzed, one hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Two cocks were filling her completely in both holes, and both cocks soon began moving in and out, forcing their way in with every thrust as you held her legs firmly against you.
Unable to contain herself any longer, a minute later, by which time you were moving at a considerably fast pace, Rina brought her hands to her face and dug her nails into her cheeks.
"NNNGHHH!!!" she shrieked, her perfect breasts bouncing.
Sully, with her hands on Rina's thighs for balance, was bending her knees to pump up and down against Rina's pussy, while you were thrusting violently up and down against her butthole, which felt like a second, tighter pussy. During these moments, Wony sat up and knelt beside you.
"Oh, you're loving this, jagiya?" Wony asked, leaning forward to take one of Rina's breasts into her mouth as they bounced. "Do you like having both your holes fucked at the same time?"
Rina nodded as best she could, amidst whimpers and ragged breaths.
"Come on, look at me, sweetheart," Wony said.
Rina pulled her hands away from her face and looked at Wony, who slipped two fingers into her mouth. Rina sucked on them with a deep moan, drunk on pleasure.
"Now that's three holes," Wony said, moving her fingers in and out of Rina's mouth. "All while I'm sucking your pretty tits. Doesn't that make you want to cum really hard?"
Rina nodded wildly again, putting her hands over yours under her knees, and seconds later, she came in a flood of intense spasms and high-pitched whimpers.
"Oh wow," Sully immediately pulled out of Rina's pussy, watching as she squirted a little.
You groaned, Rina's ass clenching around your cock amidst strong contractions. Your girlfriend dropped her head back and turned it to meet your lips. As you kissed her, you released her legs and wrapped your arms around her body to hug her.
"How about we switch holes, daddy?" you heard Sully ask. "I want to fuck her ass too."
You broke the kiss with Rina and looked into her eyes.
"Do you want to continue?" you asked.
Rina looked at you with glassy eyes and her mouth slightly open. She nodded, flushed with pleasure. You gave her a quick kiss on the lips.
"Turn around then."
You pulled out of her butthole and allowed her to turn around on top of you, now straddling you with her knees on either side of your waist. That way, you put your cock inside her pussy and Sully put her dildo inside her butthole.
The rhythm and intensity were the same, only now Rina was muffling her moans against Wony's lips in the middle of a sensual kiss with her girlfriend, who was also grabbing one of her buttocks. Her breasts bounced just inches from your face; you only had to tilt your head up slightly to take one of them into your mouth and suck on it, while you hammered her warm pussy with all your energy and Sully pounded with her dildo in the other hole.
Rina soon burst into moans again, and just a couple of minutes later she had another climax twice as strong. Her entire lower body trembled, your dick sliding out by inertia, as she expelled another stream of squirt that bathed the entire back of your shaft and soaked everything within reach.
"Fucking hell!!" Rina shrieked, digging her nails into your shoulders. She had tears in her eyes and on her cheeks that she didn't bother to wipe away.
You wrapped your arms around her waist and held her against your body, giving her little kisses on her breasts and collarbone.
"I'm sorry, jagiya," Wony said, and proceeded to push Rina off you. Rina was so weak that she fell like a sack of potatoes beside you. "But it's my turn."
"You're not so reluctant to be fucked by a fake dick anymore, are you?" you panted, with an eyebrow raised.
"I was never reluctant to be fucked by a fake dick," Wony clarified as she lay on her side, with her knees pulled up against her torso. "I was reluctant to suck a fake dick. Now come here and fuck me so hard I can't walk straight."
You accepted Sully's help to get up onto your knees. You both positioned yourselves behind Wony, you on the side of her butthole.
"I feel like I'm about to faint," you said, preparing Wony's ass the same way you had with Rina a few minutes earlier. "So you'd better have a blast before I cum."
"That will depend entirely on you two," Wony replied, with a hand on her own buttock. "Good luck."
Sully didn't wait for you to finish lubricating your girlfriend's butthole before inserting her dildo into her pussy.
"Mmm, that's it," Wony moaned, placing her hand on Sully's flat, perfect abdomen. "It feels better than I thought, and... you look sexier than I thought with that thing on."
"My girlfriend says the same thing, thank you," Sully replied, beginning to move her fake cock in and out of Wony's pussy.
After leaving Wony's butthole prepared and sufficiently dilated inside, you took your dick and slowly pushed it into her ass. Wony rolled her eyes as her tight little ass was filled by every inch of you. Then you, with one hand on your girlfriend's perfect little waist and the other holding Sully's waist from behind, began to move with strong, deep thrusts.
You and Sully brought Wony to a deep trance of pleasure even faster than Rina; not even a minute had passed when Wony was already whimpering like crazy, not knowing where to grab onto. Her only option was your forearm, which she clung to with an iron grip. Similarly, you had your fingers dug into her waist, and Sully had her fingers wrapped around your girlfriend's thigh.
"Fuckkk, it feels so good!" Wony shrieked, the thuds of your pelvis hitting her buttocks echoing off the walls. "Harder, harder!"
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sully purse her lips, clench her jaw, and begin to pound Wony's pussy with all her might, the same way you were pounding her ass. Wony screamed with pleasure, digging her nails into your wrist, and let out another cry when you gave her a stinging slap on the buttock that immediately left a mark.
Rina appeared to Sully's left, crawling towards Wony. She lay down on her side next to her, made her kiss her with lots of saliva involved, and slid a hand down her girlfriend's abdomen to rub her clit. The triple input of pleasure made Wony scrunch up her face and begin to breathe heavily, tears soon streaming down her cheeks. She wasn't even able to continue kissing Rina, so the short-haired girl lowered herself a little to kiss Wony's breasts.
Wony had a strong orgasm seconds later, but you and Sully were so caught up in the trance that you didn't even notice the way she was shaking under your hands. Rina didn't seem to pay much attention to her girlfriend being about to fall apart either, as she continued to move her fingers in circles on her clit.
"Be a good girl and soak Sully's dick like Jimin," you growled, feeling like you were about to cum too. "What are you waiting for, you little slut?"
Wony whimpered with pleasure and clung to Rina with both arms. She looked at you with teary eyes and flushed cheeks, holding your gaze until she arched her back, closed her eyes, and let out a scream at the moment of her second consecutive orgasm.
"MMMHP!!" Wony shrieked, and pushed Rina against her breasts, smothering her in them.
"That's what I'm talking about," Sully said, pulling out of Wony's pussy as it released an intense stream of squirt that soaked her thighs and subsequently formed a puddle on the sheets.
Sully sat back on her heels to take a short break, panting, and seconds later knelt behind you to give you little kisses on the back of your neck.
"I don't know how you're going to do it, but I want that load for myself," Sully whispered in your ear.
Your climax wasn't long in coming. A little over a minute later, and after having relentlessly pounded Wony's ass, you pulled your cock out of her and stood up on the bed to get on top of her, bend your knees, and masturbate over her face.
"Open your mouth and don't swallow it," you said.
Wony propped herself up on her elbows and stuck out her tongue. Seconds later, you put your cock in her mouth and she received a massive load shot down her throat. Your girlfriend wrinkled her face and tightly closed her lips around your shaft, taking every drop of semen. And since your orders were not to swallow it, soon a thick, whitish liquid began to spill from the corners of her lips.
"Now pass it to Jimin."
Wony looked at you a little confused as you pulled your cock out of her mouth, but without asking any questions (mainly because she couldn't with her mouth full), she grabbed Rina by the chin, made her open her mouth and stick out her tongue, and let all your load fall onto it.
"And now you pass it to Yoonah," you said, and with that, you slumped back to enjoy the view.
Rina, like the obedient girl she was, sat up and let Sully lie down on her lap with her tongue sticking out, to do the same thing Wony had done to her. All your load, thick and abundant, fell onto Sully's tongue and part of her lips. The redhead swallowed it all and turned her head to look at you.
Her mocking smile was that of someone who had gotten away with something.
"You know? I didn't actually argue with Jinsol," she said. "In fact, I wasn't even with her in the first place."
You sighed and shook your head. You should’ve known. She had planned it all.
"I came because I was really horny and I wanted you to fuck me and me to fuck your girlfriends," Sully blew you a kiss. "Merry Christmas and thanks, jagiya."
You didn't have the energy to scold her or to be annoyed. You simply let your head fall onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling until you eventually felt like taking a nap.
(Male Reader (Priest) x Karina & Wonyoung (Nuns), 6k Words) Tags: Something unholy this way cums; Karina and Wonyoung have been naughty girls, and must confess their sins; Lots of religious innuendo; More than a little sex; Catholic fun; Endnotes too; Oral Vaginal Anal Outercourse sex; If Confession was normally this fun, I think it would be much more popular; Immense quantities of "Holy Water"; The Abbess is pretty hot too ;)
Author's Note: I have added endnotes to this work for the curious, as well as to help explain certain references that the ordinary reader might not know of. Feel free to scroll to the end, or simply wait to read them there
"Forgive us Father, for we have sinned," Wonyoung murmurs, her face as serene as a saint's while she awaits your absolution, kneeling on the floor before you with perfect innocence. A beauty constrained by vows of chastity, she appears anything but virtuous, no matter her outward appearance. Karina kneels beside her, her head bowed while her lips mouth endless platitudes to the Madonna, genuine tears running down her cheeks while she contemplates her earthly transgressions. You nod dourly, your face an expressionless mask as you ponder upon the judgement and eternal charity of the Lord, and his Son's boundless love for those who transgress against Him. You make your decision, and feel the hand of the Holy Spirit guiding your words,
"Your penance is yet incomplete," you declare in sonorous tone, "the Lord requires further evidence of your contrition,"
The pair of nuns let out a mournful groan and approach your bench in the confessional chamber once more, "Please Father," Karina sobs, "let us prove ourselves worthy of His Divine Grace!" The two look up at you with zealous eyes, their faces streaked with your holy sacrament, their lips parting in eagerness to perform yet more Good Works upon a true Instrument of the Lord.
"Amen," you sigh, as Karina and Wonyoung once more take your penis in their mouths...
Managing a convent was a fulfilling and sacrosanct role, shepherding the innocent charges under your protection through the turmoil of earthly distractions, and guiding them along their holy path in praise of the Lord. The endearing adoration the nuns showed towards the Trinity never ceased to move your heart, and you often yearned to join them in the simplicity of endless prayer and supplication. But alas, the mortal world was yours to face, and so you remained vigilant upon the walls of your earthly paradise, sending constant reassurances to your sponsors at the Cluny Abbey (1) who supported your religious house that all was well. And things were indeed well. The Sisters kept to their isolation, the staff to their duties, and the Brothers in the attached priory their religious work, which of course involved teaching their Sisters the intricacies of Christian worship. Detractors might paint this relationship as obscene, alleging licentious activities that most certainly did not take place in the House of God, ignorant peasants and steely rogues whose assertions you denied outright. Yet deceit was a sin, and one you wrestled with constantly during your private prayers, beseeching the Son for His forgiveness for your lies in His name. Because all was not well in your Garden of Eden, indeed, it was troubled by the same sin that had cast mankind out of Heaven as well.
Your problems had a source in two of the Sisters of your convent, one of whom a more recent addition, the other a resident since her acceptance as a child. Karina was a daughter from a family of minor nobility with a surfeit of daughters, and as is common, she was given to the convent to curry favor with Ecclesial circles once she was old enough to not pass away from illness (2). She was a zealous girl, fervent in her love for the Lord, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but her great faith left her naïve, temptatiously so. Beautiful of face, and with a bust so large no habit could obscure it, Sister Karina was the bane of the adjoining priory, the brethren there sorely tested by her alluring ignorance. Many had been caught teaching her "special prayers", or "secret devotionals" to the Saints that inevitably seemed to involve having her habit around her shoulders and her undergarments dangling from one ankle. Time after time, Brothers would encounter her and another sinfully cavorting in a cell, and instead of reporting or interrupting this hellish behavior, they would watch and wring out the evidence of the lust, or even join in the damning activity! You would have assumed Karina to be a simple harlot, had not her confessional tears been so genuine that you too had been moved by her grief at her unknowing sinning.
So while Sister Karina was a known issue, one who was kept sternly under the eye of the Abbess lest she stray even more and lead her soul into eternal hellfire, the other, was not. Sister Wonyoung had joined barely a year earlier, a ravishing beauty with the countenance of a Saint, and you fervently prayed that the mien of the interior would someday match the exterior. Sent so that she might maintain her chastity until marriage, her family name was beyond your purview, but it had been hinted by your superiors that she was from the court of an Prince-Elector of the Empire (3); so from a very powerful family indeed. The reasoning behind Wonyoung's religious banishment was obvious, had she remained a court, she would have had half of the surrounding eligible nobility wrapped around her finger, while the other half would be busy declaring war on those in her favor. Her virginity would have also been in serious doubt, if her actions during her stay at the convent were anything to go by, her effects upon the good Brother's were as damning as Karina's! With her charming nature and subtle wiles, your wayward Sister had wriggled and writhed her way into the heart of the complex, and seemed able to induce anyone to indulge in her sinful schemes.
Godless pregnancies had seen a sharp increase, and even the redoubtable Abbess seemed at a loss as to how many saintly women had suddenly been stained by the sin of lust, their souls upon the precipice of eternal damnation. Rumors swirled, as they always did with the convent being a hothouse of gossip, with Sister Wonyoung always at the heart of whatever secret depravities were being undertaken beneath the vigilant watch of the senior brethren. The Abbess had on several occasions examined the girl, and found her hymen to be intact, so while her technical virtue remained undiminished, she seemed to be straying into sin nonetheless. The hushed giggles decrying Sodom that you had heard while Wonyoung had passed by only confirmed your worries, that the rebellious Sister was engaged in the foulest form of carnal intimacy. Of solid evidence however, you had little, and none of the Sisters nor Brothers seemed willing to divulge the particulars during confessional, remaining silent even from your pointed questioning. The Sister herself of course admitted to nothing, so while Karina might blubberingly spill several occurrences of her lustful failings (that she remained without child was sure evidence of the Lord's infinite forgiveness), Wonyoung kept her divulgences to petty matters, as a dutiful Sister was expected to do.
But the Might of the Lord was eternal, and through His servants, His displeasure known. The Abbess, no doubt guided by the righteous fury of an archangel, had discovered Karina in a cell abed with no less than three monks, one of whom's personal penance had been to deny himself the merest touch of a woman; while another Sister watched the unholy proceedings. Your redoubtable holy woman had severely scorned, with a voice like the Trumpet of Revelation (4), the Brothers for sullying a Wife of Christ, her eyes alight with the wrath of Saint Leutfridus (5), and she had driven them out before accosting the pair of nuns. Sister Karina had of course been set aside, while the Abbess had sternly lectured the other Sister for risking her soul to eternal hellfire for her unGodly curiosity. Yet the Lord's ire remained undiminished, for why else would He have sent the Holy Spirit to draw the Abbess's gaze to a humble cupboard, and within it, the duplicitous Sister Wonyoung!
The Abbess had explained all of this to you with a familiar look of smug satisfaction at having done the Lord's work, and you gave praise to the Highest for gifting you with such an able guard dog for your lambs. You also make sure to spare some praise for the Abbess as well, and she positively glowed at your words, rewarding you with a kindly smile that many of her charges would have been shocked to see her make. As always with her, you felt a tension, something that roiled beneath the surface of your official roles as Servants of God, a truth that would sure damn the both of you were it to be revealed. So instead you simply return the warm smile, and when you lay your hands upon her bowed head to bless her, neither of you comment on the unusual length of time your hands linger. With a sigh you dismiss the Abbess, who pauses by the door as she leaves the small office you call your own, "Then shall I send them following morning prayers?"
You nod, "If it pleases you, Sister, I shall deal with malcontents through Confession in my chambers,"
The Abbess cocks her head, "A private word then?"
"Indeed, Sisters Karina and Wonyoung require a light touch. I shall leave the fate of the third Sister to you."
The Abbess gives you a crooked smile, "I shall speak with her, youthful curiosity is a scourge for all of us," and closes your door behind her.
The next morning you call the three wayward Brothers to your office to lambast them for their sins, scolding them for being tempted by the wiles of young nuns, urging them to harden their souls against such transgressions. For while chastity was not mandatory amongst the wider lay folk, your convent was sponsored by the great abbey at Cluny, where it most definitely was, and the Benedictines there had... expectations that their doctrine be followed (6). The three monks leave your office seeming humbled, and it is with some relief that you lead the morning prayers, choosing to sermonize about the Saint Mary Magdalene, hoping that some amongst your flock might take inspiration from her holy example and leave behind any wayward thoughts of promiscuity and lust. After you all break your fast in the dining hall, that vast room filled with murmur of scurrilous rumor and gossip, you depart to your personal chambers, which doubled as your Confessional area. You had heard mutters through the grapevine about some of the larger churches adopting double closets of sorts to perform Confession inside of (7), but like many priests, you preferred a more personal touch. How else would you know that your sinners had truly accepted their penance and allowed for the Lord's Grace to fill them if you could not feel it yourself?
Shortly after getting settled arranging some cushions for the two Sisters to kneel upon in front of the padded bench you sat upon while listening to Confession, you hear a knock on your door. Some lay brethren might prefer bare stone floor to enhance their discomfort, but you saw little reason for those who did not embrace such a path to suffer needlessly, especially those delicate souls under your care. You call for them to enter, and the Abbess ushers in your two lost lambs before bowing her head and retreating, shutting the door tightly behind her while the two nuns settle onto the ground. Karina and Wonyoung both make the sign of the cross, with the latter's a heartbeat slower, before announcing, "Bless us Father, for we have sinned, it has been-"
"One week," bemoans Karina
"Two months," mutters Wonyoung
"-since our last Confessional."
You wait, slowly sitting down upon your comfortable bench, allowing the silence to ripen before sighing, "Very well, Sisters. Please, open yourselves to the lord, and declare your sins to Him..." You trail off as Karina promptly leans back and opens her legs, revealing the dark patch of hair covering her sex, and groan internally. Truly, the Lord was testing you.
"Sister Karina," you begin gently, "you seem to have forgotten your undergarments this morning, I know this is a tumultuous time for you, but please remember to put them on for modesty's sake."
Karina looks bashful, "Forgive me, Father, but all of mine are stained and require washing..."
You nod politely, even Women of God suffer from the cycles of the moon, "So the Virgin has sent you fresh signs of your purity then?" you ask delicately, but Karina shakes her head,
"No, Father, that was two weeks ago, the Brother's holy fluids have stained my undergarments," she says with complete innocence, and Wonyoung is unable to hide a snigger, "so I have been going without while waiting for the wash to be done." You blink, before mentally shelving the thought that the naïve Sister had been receiving the foul, sticky evidence of her sin so often that she was out undergarments, and move on to the next issue,
"And your... stance, Sister? That is not the usual position a penitent would assume..."
"What are you talking about, Father?" Wonyoung interjects with a purr, "Isn't that the pose any good Sister should assume when receiving their penance?"
Your eyes flick to your young charge, and are unable to contain your irritation, "Ah, but of course, Sister," you say blithely, "how foolish of me to forget the classical Pose of Saint Pelagia of Antioch (8). Please, Sister Wonyoung, kindly follow your Sister's example"
Wonyoung's face flushes as she realizes your trap, and grimly leans back and spreads her lithe legs as well, shyly revealing undergarments of distinctive quality; nothing but the best for one of her blood. The young nun appears as flustered as you have ever seen her, which comes as something of a surprise since she had ever held herself with sinful pride and confidence; perhaps the rumors of her harlot ways were merely that... Or perhaps Sister Wonyoung was simply unused to not being in control of her situation. You feel an odd feeling creeping through your guts, a sense of righteousness and surety that the Holy Spirit's hand was guiding your path to redemption for these wayward souls, and lean forward while bringing your hands together, "Now Sisters, have you any sins you wish to confess?" Karina of course, is the first to start,
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned" she begins, with her moist temptation still revealed to you, "I have felt the sin of Envy upon my soul when I saw Sister Wonyoung's beautiful undergarments four days ago while she was practicing for the upcoming devotional play we are hosting in a month. I have felt the sin of Pride when yesterday I was able to pray to the Virgin Mary with three Brothers at once, and the Abbess said I felt the sin of Lust when I was with them."
Sister Karina continues to reveal her every doubt and worry, which seem to feature a surprisingly large amount of ungodly fornication if one could read between the lines. But that was nothing new, your meek lamb was ever blundering into sinful behavior, when it was Sister Wonyoung's turn...
"I have nothing to confess, Father," Wonyoung declares with an innocence that was only somewhat undermined by her current exposed position. You raise an eyebrow,
"Truly, Sister? You have partaken in no sinful behavior since your last Confession? Please, unburden yourself before Christ and receive his Grace, you have nothing to fear..." But Wonyoung remains defiant,
"No, Father, I have felt no sin," she sniffs,
"Then how," you ask softly, "would you describe the situation the Abbess found you in yesterday? While Sister Karina here was busy... praying with three of the lay Brethren?"
Sister Wonyoung nibbles on her lip and pouts, "Why, I was observing the good Sister praying, what could possibly be sinful about that?" before smirking, clearly taking hellish joy from defying you.
Irritation flares in you once more, and you feel the Lord's anger swelling up within you as the young nun spurns His holy redemption, how could you save His wayward daughter from foul temptation? The righteousness of Saint Vitalis (9) fills you to the point of bursting, and it is as if the Light of Damascus (10) strikes you as through holy revelation your method was laid out for you, a way to cleanse the sin from this arrogant youth and return her to the Path of God. You stand, drawing back your robe to reveal the Holy Lance, trembling with the pent up fury of the Lord, the instrument through which Sister Wonyoung's confession, and her salvation, would be secured, "Very well then Sister," you smile, "I hope you will not shirk from joining me in prayer then?" and the nun blanches in horror as her bluff is called, "Sisters!" The Holy Spirit, speaking through you declares, "Let us pray!"
Karina's eyes light up with the fervor of a true fanatic, "Praise the Lord!" she shrieks, overcome with emotion. Wonyoung on the other hand, merely stares at you in complete shock, her sinful heart quailing at the sight of such a powerful symbol of the Faith,
"Oh dear God," she groans, already praying for her coming salvation.
Sister Karina shudders with piety, "Please Father," she gasps out, "my body is ready to receive the Love of Christ! Cleanse my wicked sins with your hallowed spear!" Such a zealous prayer nearly has you in tears of joy, surely the Holy Spirit has touched her as well! You move as swiftly as a vengeful archangel then to place your Instrument of the Church against her Pearly Gates, and she quivers with holy delight at the sight of you between her legs. The dark whorls of hair concealing her sex have already parted, damp with the evidence of her virtue, the pink of her folds bright against this black backdrop. Sister Karina moans as your penis slowly fills her, gasping with pious pleasure as she gives thanks to God in the best way she knew how, her curvaceous body a temple to the Lord's glory. Sodden warmth engulfs you as you sheath yourself in the nun to the hilt, and you both shudder in devout ecstasy, "Your- your rod," Karina gasps, "Father, it is massive! It feels as if I am being crucified upon the cross, I am enduring the same agony of our Lord!" her legs curl up around your waist, and you can feel her wetness squelching out of her divine hole as you plunge deep inside of her, expunging her sins with every thrust.
You feel the foul urge to unleash the holy power burning inside of you, to waste the Lord's Grace upon such an inconsequential cavity, when a more holy ritual was required. You pause in your efforts so as to not cause premature release, "Sister," you declare, "Prepare to receive the Body of Christ!" And in an instant Karina's legs untangle themselves from around you and she moves upright, with you pulling out of her with a noisome belch of fluids. You lurch to your feet as the virtuous nun opens her mouth wide and unspools her tongue for you to place your Sacred Tool upon. With a groaned prayer, you spill the Eucharist into Sister Karina's open mouth, rope after rope of sacral liquid fills her maw, until it is nearly spilling out. But the Holy Spirit was within her, for she was able to swallow your blessing in its entirety without spilling a drop, and gifts you with a saintly smile,
"Amen!" she sighs, gazing with wonder up at the stiff rod of meat, still dripping with her honey. The righteousness of the Lord yet still filled you however, as evidenced by the miraculous hardness of His Instrument, for while the good Sister had been an easy soul to save, her wicked companion was still drenched with the foulest of sins,
"Sister Wonyoung," you announce sternly, "Are you prepared to confess to your sins?"
Sister Wonyoung, as it turns out, was not. Having obediently lay in the Pose of Saint Pelagia of Antioch for the entirety of Sister Karina's Confessional, quailing like a heathen before the Glory of the Lord, she now shakes her head in stubborn denial, "No Father, I have nothing to confess, because I have not sinned!" she says with growing confidence, "And it looks like your ideas on Theology or not too different from the lay Brothers you punished!" Wonyoung snorts, "How is you fornicating with Karina any different from what she was doing yesterday?" But her false arguments fell upon deaf ears, for the sanctified prayer you had undertaken with Sister Karina had nothing in common with the foul and wicked copulations driven by lust that had occurred yesterday. And moreover...
"So you are saying that yesterday you not only witnessed a hellish act being conducted by your peers, but through your witness, participated in it as well?" you ask sternly, and Wonyoung nearly chokes on her own spit,
"Oh! Um, well... no... no! That uh, definitely prayer!" she struggles out, still unwilling to admit to the error of her ways. But no matter,
"Very well then, Sister," you step closer to the young noblewoman, "then will you join me in holy prayer, so that you might be struck by the error of your ways?" Wonyoung, glancing at your member with some horror, starts to babble but you cut her off, "And worry not, good Sister, your chastity will remain as sanctified as that of the Virgin herself..."
Her beautiful lips twisted into supreme pout, Sister Wonyoung unhurriedly rolls onto all fours and presents her perky rear to you, her habit dangling down from around her stomach while she instinctively arches her back. Then she notices your bemused stare and her back snaps back upwards into a virgin curve, and then with enforced shyness, she pulls down her colorful undergarments to reveal her paired dens of sin. A thin streamer of fluid connects her removed garment to the dainty pink slit that protrudes beneath her modest cheeks, and the circle around her arse was dark and wide, betraying its undignified use. Your Rod of Conversion remained undiminished by its holy work resanctifying Karina's body and soul, and Wonyoung looks back at it with undisguised dread at the sheer size and magnificence of the Lord's Righteousness made manifest. She gathers herself though, still weighty with the sin of Pride, and arrogantly declares herself ready for worship, while Sister Karina watches with avid interest.
You position yourself behind Sister Wonyoung, who trembles as your rosy, wide head presses against her rear entrance, your manhood was still slick with Karina's devotion, but not enough to make things too easy on Wonyoung. The young nun stifles a groan as your scepter slowly forces its way into her, until her lewd hole finally starts pushing back against you with the experience of a harlot's, and the tip goes in. Wonyoung gasps, her back arching up like a bucking horse, as the Lord's Grace gradually fills her unholy hole, purifying it with its very presence. She squirms as your mighty engines of redemption settle against her purportedly chaste womanhood, your rod spearing into her innards making her writhe, but she remains defiant yet through her panting silence. No matter, her encouragement had barely begun. Wonyoung lets out an undignified grunt when the angels guide your hips into motion, her pink rim dragging along the immense barrel of your shaft while you remove yourself from her, before plunging back inside. It is not long before she is clenching at the cushions and crying out to the Savior for salvation from this test, the Lord's name upon her lips while you pump the foul temptation out of her nubile body. Wonyoung's voice grows more shrill as the mixture of pain and rapture overwhelms her, until it seems as if she is praying to God for her prayer session to never end, rather than demanding He save her from it. Then the foul evidence of her sin sprays from her crotch, and you knew that her soul was on the verge of salvation.
Sister Wonyoung judders like a broken mill as the Grace of God fills her, moaning with revelatory joy as the scales are lifted from her eyes, though she still has yet to confess. So you continue your efforts, your hands wrapped around her dainty waist to anchor your fresh assault upon her hellish and lustful sins, and when her voice grows louder, Sister Karina's joins hers in rapturous prayer from where she kneels beside you. Wonyong gurgles in humble pleasure, "Oh! Father- Father wait! I am still-" she lets out another groan as yet more filthy and sinful fluids spew forth onto the cushions, before gasping, "Father- no- I - please! Have mercy! I'm a sinner! I am a sinner!" the nun wails, opening her soul to the Love of the Son and unburdening herself of her earthly sins, "I have been- stained! By the sin- of Pride..." A stream of depravities and ungodly behavior spills from Sister Wonyoung's pert lips as she confesses, sobbing and babbling with the same joy as Saint Mary of Egypt (11), reveling in the divine Grace of the Lord. And when it is over, and her every failing laid bare, you grant her too the Eucharist, its creamy softness spilling into her open mouth while her face twists in disgust; but she swallows it, and the holy fluid that spilt down her face is lapped up by a fervent Karina.
"Am... am I saved, Father?" Sister Wonyoung manages, breathing heavily on her knees before you, her face flushed with embarrassment and piety. You might have been inclined to agree, but the Holy Spirit whispers the Wisdom of Saint Vitalis into your ear, and you know that there is yet still Holy Work to be done, your Instrument of the Faith rising up once more, sustained by the love of angels,
"No Sister," you declare with pious certainty, "you have yet to undergo your penance, as do you, Sister." You motion towards Karina, "The Lord requires yet more Good Works from you before your sins can be fully expunged and your soul absolved." You gesture towards your evidence of God's favor, "Disrobe, Sisters, and attend upon me, for such is the Lord's desire," the pair of nuns comply, Karina with enthusiasm, pulling her habit up over head to reveal her voluptuous body, with her temptatious breasts hanging heavily upon her chest. Sister Wonyoung follows suit with surprising shyness, her perky breasts graced by the smallest of dark brown nipples, "Give thanks to the Lord," you intone, "and cleanse this saintly relic, so that it might grant you the salvation you desire..."
"Of course, Father!" gushes Karina
"Yes... Father," Wonyoung agrees, obviously unhappy about having to clean her own foulness off of your manhood, and yet she does not shirk from her duties.
Both nuns press their soft lips against either side of your scepter, unspooling their tongues to lavish it with their pious attention, licking up and down its length to clean it of Wonyoung's sins. Sister Karina shows particular enthusiasm, even placing her mouth around the tip and taking it her, her tongue skillfully swirling about it with such vigor she seems intent on producing yet another Communal extract. And while Wonyoung busies herself lapping at your font, Karina finishes her work and leans back, clutching at her ample bosom, "Please, Father," she humbly begins, "Bless my chest with your attentions, it is the source of such temptation and wickedness, remove from it the stain of sin! Let me perform yet more Good Works upon you!" Karina urges, her eyes alight with power of faith, and what sort of shepherd would deny his flock his guidance? So you seat yourself once more upon your padded bench, allowing Karina to place herself between your legs and bring her ponderous breasts to bear upon your Instrument of Salvation, with Wonyoung pushing herself up against her Sister's back to add her support.
Sister Karina presses her sizable pillows around your manhood, their soft flesh smothering it with the love of a Madonna (12), surely the Virgin had smiled upon her to be blessed with such a bounty! She smiles adoringly up at you, and with Wonyoung's face nestled in the crook of her shoulder, you are treated to a truly beauteous sight, two nuns intent upon performing Good Works. The penance might have been the Sister's, but when Karina starts to move her breasts up and down your shaft, you realize that the Lord was perhaps testing you as well, forcing you to endure such holy joy while the Sister cleanses herself with your staff. You mouth prayers to Saints to grant you the strength to weather this trial, her cleavage squishing and dragging along your skin until you feel as if the Love of Saint Vitalis was going to burst from you like revelation from the Highest. Surely Christ was determined for Karina's chest to be re-sanctified, for it was not long before you had to gaspingly demand for Karina to present herself for benediction. Sister Karina draws back, pressing her mounds together and thrusting her chest out so that you might bless it with your holy water, her expression rapturous as the divine moment fast approaches. With a groan you bestow upon her breasts a miraculous quantity of the Lord's Grace, coating them with thick streamers of saintly fluid before moving upwards and expending the last of your load upon Karina and Wonyoung's beatific faces.
Prayers spill from Karina's stained lips, and Wonyoung is quick to join in, before they put the mouths to even more virtuous work in nursing and cleaning your rigid Ark. Wonyoung pauses in her efforts, and looks up at you, "Father," she begins, "Please, allow me to humble myself before the Lord," her breath quickens, "Let me cast aside my arrogance and submit myself fully as a simple Vessel of Virgin, a tool for devotion..." You nod solemnly,
"Of course Sister, your faith moves me, and through me, the Trinity," you gesture towards yourself, "Please, perform this act of charity upon me."
Her face flushed with righteous enthusiasm, Wonyoung clambers into your lap and raises herself up until your tip is placed once more against her purified hole, "I... I shall use my anus to submit to you," she explains, "please- please excuse its worldly filth, for I am still stained by the filth of my sin" the nun manages, fumbling with the pious wording, "My body..." Wonyoung presses her body weight against your rod, "...Is CHRIST'S!" she shrieks as your entire Pillar of Faith slithers fully into her innards, her eyes rolling back with divine pleasure as she mounts you.
Once she has finished shuddering, Sister Wonyoung wraps her arms around your shoulders and gifts you with an adoring smile, her once proud visage now one of chastity and modesty, before she starts moving. Not wanting to assist her unduly, you allow her to test herself in a manner pleasing to God, and your young lamb does not disappoint you. Gathering her strength, she rises until only your flared tip is within her, and then slamming herself down to signify her humility, her guts roiling with every penitential bounce. Wonyoung's coils tighten gradually as her anus grows used to the upthrust staff of meat inside of it, and soon she is performing as spectacularly as Saint Pelagia was said to have done. Subjected to such a divine offering, your own trials intensify as Sister Karina applies herself to your font, sucking and slurping upon your sack with such eagerness you feel as if you were entering Heaven itself. The slick evidence of Wonyoung's sins is soon dripping down your thighs as she rides you, and she treats this with uncontrollable joy, "I am a wicked girl, Father!" she gasps, "Punish me more, debase me, but please, drive this wickedness out of me!" Now you must control your own pious groans as the Sister's pace increases until her hips were practically a blur, and it was difficult to hear anything above the wet, meaty slap of flesh. Her nubile body starts to shiver, and then tremble, before with a howl of exultation her every sin comes spewing out of her slit, an endless stream of stinking fluid the puddles around you both, and thoroughly soaks Karina in her position beneath your joining, "The Lance! The Lance of Teresa! (13)" Wonyoung screams, spasming with holy ecstasy as her innards clench tightly around you. With a groan of your own then you pour Christ's Love into her belly, inundating it with the Holy Spirit's sublime Grace until you fear that your heavenly gift might start emerging from her mouth. But it does not, and Sister Wonyoung's anus was now utterly sanctified.
Sister Wonyoung quivers as your manhood flops out of her rear, heralding a gush of divine fluids that splatter down onto Sister Karina's face until her rim tightens enough to stop gaping; and naturally Karina lovingly cleans up the mess. Wonyoung untangles herself from you, her mien now demure and submissive after receiving so powerful a revelation from God, and she smoothly places herself once more at your feet along with Karina. The two nuns bow before you, their faces both streaked with your Holy Water, their naked bodies slick with sweat and fluids, heaving as they bow their heads once more to await the Lord's approval. But the Holy Spirit yet filled you with strength, and your Agency of Christ remained undimished, a sure sign from the Lord of his continued desire for penance. At this proclamation, the Sisters tremble with ill-concealed delight, and with their eyes shining with zealous fervor, they crawl forward once more and place their lips upon your Confessional Rod, intent upon earning God's absolution...
It was only before the noon bell that the two Sisters stagger forth from your chambers, weak and besmirched in body, but shining and pure in soul. Wearing beatific smiles they bow to the Abbess who waits nearby, before proceeding towards the wash area, model nuns that any of the Brethren would feel blessed to witness. The Abbess quietly closes the door behind her as she enters, gazing up on the appalling mess that was your Confessional Area with frank amazement,
"Should I call in some of the Sisters to help clean this up, or should I bring in the Brothers to gaze upon this... miracle?"
You continue staring at the floor, your heart filled with despair as you doubt yourself, had you been truly filled with the Vigor of God, or had a more unholy power despoiled you? As if sensing your conflict, the Abbess moves closer and rests your head against her chest, comforting you in your time of need as she had so often done before,
"Do not doubt yourself, Father," she soothes, "your actions were surely guided by the Hand of Christ, never before have I seen such... impressive energy, and the Sisters! Oh you should have seen them when they left your chambers, they were shining with such Grace and Virtue that I nearly wept to see such a change come over them." You bring yourself to slowly raise your head, staring up into her kindly eyes, and her lips crinkle upwards, "There you are. Cast aside your worries, Father, for I know your soul to be unweighted by the burden of sin."
You feel tears beading, and you choke back a sob as you say, "Thank you, Abbess, for being my rock,"
The Abbess beams benevolently, before gently releasing her embrace of you and taking a step back, "Would you take my confession as well then, Father?" she asks with soft intensity, and you can but nod, how could you refuse such a faithful and loyal woman? With a sigh The Abbess reaches down and languidly pulls her habit up over her head, baring her form to you for the first time in many years. Her hips were wide, her thighs toned, her form voluptuous, and her weighty breasts put even Karina's to shame. Here was an Abbess, not a Sister. She kneels before you, her eyes unblinking as she stares at your rising Instrument of God and begins, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned," purrs Abbess Jihyo, "My last Confession was one week ago, and I have felt the sin of Lust upon me..."
Some time later, and Abbess Jihyo's head bobs steadily between your thighs, your Holy Sacrament pouring down her throat, and you groan,
"Amen!"
ENDNOTES:
1. Cluny Abbey was a powerful monastery in 12th Century France that would serve as a font for much writing and debate, and also would serve as a hub for the Benedictine Order of Monks. While this work takes place in roughly the 15th Century, I thought it a nice touch to include this reference.
2. Childhood mortality up until the 1800s was appallingly high, so it was not uncommon for important families to wait until they were past the worst ages before sending them off for alliances and the like.
3. Prince-Electors were the leading men of the Holy Roman Empire, and were able to vote on the new Emperor, giving them great leverage over the ruling Hapsburg dynasty.
4. The trumpet sounded to herald the apocalypse in the Book of Revelations.
5. A Saint notable for the smiting of the unholy.
6. Priestly chastity was not an enforced doctrine until fairly late into the Medieval era, and was more due to political concerns than anything else. High ranking church officials kept having mistresses, and then appointing their "nephews" as their successors, creating in effect Feudal bloodlines which were not the Thoecratic ideal. Low-level officials continued having mistresses well into the Reformation era.
7. Confessional Booths came about due to the exact reasons seen in this fic, priests kept pressuring women to sleep with them to receive God's forgiveness, and it was such a massive issue that these booths were widely used.
8. Saint Pelagia was a famous prostitute who converted and lived in isolation following a speech by a local bishop, the Pose part is a joke lol.
9. Saint Vitalis was famous for his work in visiting local prostitutes and convincing them to give up their sinful ways.
10. The miraculous beam of light that blinded Saint Paul outside of Damascus and granted him a revelation, causing him to have a change of heart
11. Saint Mary of Egypt was yet another prostitute who left that life to live in pious isolation.
12. Another name for the Virgin Mary, often shown in a loving or caring context.
13. Saint Teresa was a nun who had a dream about being stabbed by an angel with a burning spear, symbolizing God's love. While more cynical readers might interpret this as her having a particularly powerful wet dream about Jesus.
