#nien

[authorhjk1]

Three Flowers

(Xinyu X Tzuyu X Shuhua X Nien X Male Reader) Wordcount: 15045 words

(Author's note: Thanks for @jmuns-kpop and @azelfty for hosting this prompt. Because of amazing feedback from other writers and my own enjoyment while writing this, a second part will be guaranteed, even if it takes hal a year.)

You sit in the shaded audience hall of your seaside estate in Xiamen. The morning sun slants through carved wooden screens. Before you lies a low rosewood table covered in scrolls and bamboo slips. Tax reports from the newly settled villages around Tainan, manifests of rice and silk arriving from the harbor, petitions from local Fujianese merchants begging for lower duties on Taiwan goods. Your brush moves without a pause, marking approvals and corrections in black ink. The air smells of sandalwood incense and distant salt.

Outside the open doors, the training ground rings with disciplining shouts. Your Green Standard troops drill in neat squares, spears thrusting in unison, bows drawn and released with sharp twangs, officers barking corrections. The red-and-gold banner with your coiled dragon, wave, and crossed sword-anchor symbol snaps overhead in the sea breeze. You glance up now and then to watch the formations shift, satisfied with the crispness after months of Penghu blood and sweat.

A young servant boy - barely sixteen, one of the new household additions - bursts through the side door, sandals slapping against stone. He drops to his knees so quickly his forehead nearly kisses the floor.

“General!”

His voice cracks with haste.

“Lady Xinyu bids you come at once to her chambers. She says the matter is urgent and cannot wait.”

You set the brush down. The ink bead trembles on the tip, then falls. Urgent from Xinyu is never trivial. You rise, robe whispering against the mat.

The boy scrambles ahead. You stride through the middle courtyards, past lotus ponds where carp glide beneath lily pads, past the private theater where musicians sometimes play at dusk, then through the moon gate into the women’s quarters. The garden here is quieter, jasmine heavy in the air, silk lanterns swaying gently even though it is still daylight.

Xinyu’s pavilion stands at the center. It’s the largest and most ornate. Red-lacquered pillars, silk curtains the color of ripe persimmons, carved peonies climbing the screens. Already a small crowd has gathered on the stone path outside. Maids in plain blue ao stand with lowered eyes. Your chief steward hovers nearby, hands clasped behind his back. And then there are the three of them.

Tzuyu waits closest to the door. Her posture is perfect, hands folded inside wide pale blue sleeves. Her long hair is pinned with a single jade hairpin shaped like an orchid. The silk of her robe catches the light so it shimmers like water. She meets your gaze for only a heartbeat before looking down again. She looks elegant, composed, yet you know the quick pulse at her throat betrays her.

Shuhua stands a step behind, arms crossed loosely under her chest so the vibrant green silk pulls taut across her figure. A small smirk plays at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes are sharp and watchful. She has added a thin silver chain with a tiny shell pendant around her neck. Something she brought from the island.

Nien casually leans against a pillar, in soft peach silk, sleeves rolled to her elbows as though she was in the middle of some light chore when the summons came. She twirls a jasmine blossom between her fingers, but the playful tilt of her head does not hide the way her gaze flicks between you and the closed doors of Xinyu’s chamber.

The steward bows low as you approach.

“General.”

You nod once. The crowd parts. You push the curtain aside and step into Xinyu’s receiving room.

The space is warm, perfumed with aloeswood and a faint trace of medicinal herbs. Xinyu sits on the low platform bed, back straight despite the slight curve already visible beneath her loose rose-pink robe. Her hands rest in her lap with her fingers laced. She looks up at you and, for the first time in weeks, there is no carefully schooled calm on her face. Only quiet, radiant certainty. Behind you the three concubines enter in single file, silent, each taking a place along the wall. Tzuyu to your left, Shuhua to your right, Nien nearer the door. The maids withdraw, letting the heavy curtain fall.

Xinyu draws a slow breath.

“My lord, this morning the physician confirmed it. I carry your child.”

The words drop into the room like a stone into still water. You feel the shift in the air at once. The way Tzuyu’s breath catches, the way Shuhua’s smirk vanishes, the way Nien’s fingers still on the jasmine blossom until the petals bruise. Xinyu’s gaze moves past you to the three younger women. Her expression is gentle, almost kind, but there is steel beneath it.

“The household will rejoice.”

She continues softly.

“But the child will need brothers and sisters to strengthen our line. I trust my lord will see to that duty… in due time.”

She looks back at you, eyes shining.

The evening arrives with the slow fade of sunset over the harbor, turning the sea into molten gold. Lanterns are lit along every path and pavilion, their warm glow pushing back the creeping darkness. In the grand banquet hall, long tables are set with lacquered trays. Steamed abalone glistening in ginger soy, crisp-skinned duck glazed with honey, platters of fresh crab from the morning boats, bowls of fragrant rice studded with lotus seeds, and delicate sweets shaped like peaches, symbols of longevity and fertility.

You sit at the head of the main table, Xinyu to your immediate left. Her rose-pink robe has been changed for one of deeper crimson silk. The wide sleeves are embroidered with subtle phoenixes that rise as she gestures. She looks radiant, the faint curve of her belly hidden but somehow announced by the way she carries herself. To your right sit the three concubines in careful order: Tzuyu closest, then Shuhua, then Nien. Tzuyu’s pale blue silk falls in perfect folds, her movements careful. Shuhua’s vibrant green catches the lantern light every time she leans forward. Nien’s soft peach seems almost to glow against her skin. They sit with the practiced grace of women who know they are watched.

A handful of guests fill the other seats. Two wealthy Fujianese merchants who supply your ships, a minor magistrate from the nearby prefecture, and Lady Wei, the wife of a coastal garrison commander. She’s sharp eyed, silver haired, and already deep in conversation with Xinyu about midwives and auspicious birth dates.

The congratulations begin almost immediately. Cups are raised again and again.

“To the General and Lady Xinyu. May the child be strong, wise, and bring endless prosperity!”

Xinyu inclines her head with perfect modesty, accepting each toast with a small smile. The women cluster around her, asking about cravings (none yet, but she jokes about sudden desires for Taiwanese mangoes), sharing remedies, laughing softly over old birthing tales. For this evening, at least, the household orbits her.

Your own conversations pull in a different direction. The merchant across from you leans in, voice low beneath the music of the pipa and erhu players in the corner.

“General, the new trade route from Tainan is open, but the pirate remnants still lurk near Penghu. If we could station another squadron-”

You nod, swirling wine in your cup.

“I’ve already drafted the request to Admiral Shi Lang. Two more junks with swivel guns should suffice. The Emperor wants steady rice flowing north before winter.”

The magistrate chimes in about tax exemptions for settlers willing to farm the interior. You listen, respond, commit details to memory. Politics and business weave through every sip and every bite.

Then the musicians shift tempo. A livelier melody rises. Strings get plucked in quick, playful runs. Nien sets her chopsticks down. Without a word she stands, smooth as water, and steps into the open space between tables. No one seems surprised. In households like yours, especially after a victory feast or good news, a concubine dancing is not unusual. It is entertainment, a display of grace, a way to honor the host. Nien moves as though the music has simply pulled her in.

Her peach silk flutters as she turns, arms lifting in slow arcs, wrists flicking like willow branches in wind. She spins once, twice. The hem rises just enough to show the delicate curve of her calves, then sinks low, one knee bending, head tilting back so her dark hair spills like ink. The lanterns catch every motion, turning her into flickering light and shadow.

You glance at her again and again. Her form is elegant and fluid, unmistakably inviting. The way her hips sway, the intended pause when she extends a hand toward the musicians as if offering herself to the melody…it is artful and practiced, but tonight it feels personal. Her eyes find yours once, twice, three times. Each meeting lasts only a heartbeat, yet in that look there is no coyness. It is direct. Hungry. A silent question.

You look away, toward Xinyu. She watches Nien with calm amusement, one hand resting lightly on her belly. Lady Wei says something. Xinyu laughs softly, then replies. There is no tightness in her shoulders, no flicker of irritation. The pregnancy has shifted something fundamental. Xinyu is no longer merely first among equals. She is the mother of the heir, the uncontested center. The three foreign concubines, beautiful as they are, suddenly seem less threatening. Almost decorative. The dance ends to polite applause. Nien returns to her seat, cheeks faintly flushed, breathing a little quicker. She does not look at you again, but you feel the weight of her earlier gaze lingering.

The evening stretches. More dishes arrive. lotus root stir-fried with pork, clear broth with fish maw, and more wine is poured. Guests begin to excuse themselves one by one. Lady Wei departs with effusive promises to send her best midwife. The merchants bow and leave with assurances of loyalty. The magistrate lingers longest, finishing a quiet discussion about harbor patrols.

Xinyu rises at last, graceful despite the hour.

“My lord, I will retire. The child demands rest.”

You stand and offer your arm. She takes it briefly, presses your hand once, then slips away toward her pavilion, maids trailing like shadows.

The hall empties slowly. Servants clear trays. Musicians pack their instruments. Only the last merchant remains, the one who spoke of pirates earlier. You walk him to the outer doors, sealing the final details of tomorrow’s orders. He bows deeply and then vanishes into the night.

Silence falls over your estate. You turn left toward the moon gate that leads to the inner garden. Halfway down the shadowed corridor, you round the corner.

Shuhua stands there. She leans against a red-lacquered pillar, arms folded loosely under her chest, the green silk of her robe catching the faint lantern light from the garden beyond. Her chin lifts when she sees you. She doesn’t say anything at first, but her face is in conflict with herself. A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of her lips, but her eyes are full of determination.

Shuhua straightens from the pillar as you approach, her arms unfolding slowly. The moon light catches the silver shell pendant at her throat, making it twinkle a little.

“My lord, I dislike seeing you walk these corridors alone at night. Must be tiring, carrying the weight of the household on your shoulders.”

You stop a few paces away.

“It’s a familiar burden.”

She tilts her head, studying you.

“The banquet was long. Everyone fawning over Lady Xinyu and her precious news. You barely touched your wine.”

“I had business to attend.”

A small laugh escapes her.

“Always business.”

She pushes off the pillar and takes one step closer.

“Did you like Nien’s dance at least? She moves like she’s trying to remind everyone she exists.”

You don’t answer immediately. Shuhua’s eyes narrow, pleased by your silence.

“She’s sweet.”

You say at last.

“Sweet.”

Shuhua echoes, rolling the word like it tastes sour.

“How boring. You must be starving for something with bite.”

The air between you thickens. She closes the last distance, stopping so close you can smell the faint jasmine oil she favors. Something she brought from the island, stubborn and defiant against the mainland scents of the estate.

“Walk with me.”

Not a question.

She turns without waiting, green silk whispering as she moves down the moonlit path toward her pavilion. You follow. The garden is quiet. Only the distant lap of waves against the harbor and the occasional rustle of leaves break the silence. At her door she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder.

“You’re still here. Good boy.”

You raise an eyebrow at her attitude, but it’s not unfamiliar anymore.

Inside, the room is smaller than Xinyu’s but brighter. The lanterns hang low, casting warm pools of light across silk screens painted with crashing waves and distant islands. A low bed dominates the center, piled with embroidered cushions and a thin quilt the color of young bamboo.

Shuhua doesn’t hesitate. She turns, places both hands flat on your chest, and shoves. You fall back onto the bed, the mattress yielding under your weight. Before you can sit up she’s on you, straddling your hips, knees bracketing your thighs. Her robe parts at the front just enough to show the smooth line of her collarbone and the dip of her breasts beneath thin silk.

“You didn’t look at me all evening. Every time Nien spun, your eyes were on her. But you’re mine now.”

Her breath is warm against your skin. You slide your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat of her through the fabric. She shivers once, then presses harder into your lap.

“Not slow tonight. Never slow with me. You know that.”

She starts with kisses. Quick, hungry ones across your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Then she finds your neck. Her teeth graze just enough to sting before she sucks a mark there. Her hips roll in a slow, heavy grind, pressing her heat against the growing hardness beneath your robes. Your hands move higher, cupping the firm curve of her ass through the thin silk. The fabric is slippery, barely a barrier. You squeeze. She gasps softly against your throat, then bites down again, sharper this time.

“Good. Touch me like you mean it.”

One hand leaves your neck. She reaches between your bodies, deft fingers working the ties of your trousers open. Cool air hits your skin for only a second before her palm wraps around your cock.

“Look at you.”

She whispers, lips still at your ear, voice dropping lower.

“Already so hard for your bratty little island princess. You pretend to be so composed in that hall, but here? Here you’re just a man who wants to fuck me raw.”

She continues to stroke your cock with slow, teasing up-and-downs, then squeezes at the base.

“Say it.”

Her demand is soft, almost sweet.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me you’re going to ruin me tonight while your perfect wife sleeps with your heir safe inside her.”

Her hips rock forward again, grinding her clothed heat along your length. The friction is maddening. You grip her ass harder, pulling her down so she feels every inch of your dick pressing up against her. Shuhua laughs and leans in to kiss you properly this time, all teeth and hunger, no gentleness at all.

You flip her, rolling so Shuhua is suddenly beneath you. Her back hits the quilt with a soft thud. Her green silk robe fans out around her like a bed of grass, dark hair spilling across the embroidered cushions. She gasps once, surprised by your switch, then immediately tries to mask it with that familiar smirk. You brace yourself on one forearm beside her head, caging her in. Your free hand pins her wrists above her head.

“You’re being unusually annoying tonight.”

Shuhua blinks up at you, eyes wide and innocent for half a heartbeat before the mask cracks. She flutters her lashes.

“Me? Annyoing? I don’t know what you mean, my lord. I’m just… keeping you company after such a long day.”

You don’t smile. You don’t need to. You can see the calculation behind her wide-eyed act, the way her thighs shift restlessly beneath you. You don’t particularly care about the quiet tension that simmers between her and Xinyu. Petty jealousies, veiled barbs in the garden, the way the three concubines sometimes glance at your wife like she’s stolen something they never quite had. As long as they keep it away from you, let them claw at each other all they want. But tonight? Tonight she didn’t even give you the chance to choose whose pavilion you’d visit. She ambushed you in the corridor, dragged you here without a word of invitation or permission. You can put two and two together.

You lean closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“I don’t care what games you play with Xinyu. But when it comes to me? Be a good woman. Look pretty. Stay quiet.”

Shuhua’s breath hitches. Then she laughs, clearly defiant, the sound vibrating against your chest.

“Quiet?”

She whispers back.

“That’s no fun. That’s what Tzuyu does. You like it when I talk back. Admit it.”

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you shift your weight, turning her over so she’s on her stomach beneath you. She lets out a startled huff, palms pressing into the quilt as she tries to push up. You plant a hand between her shoulder blades, applying pressure. Your other hand finds the hem of her robe. You drag it up, bunching the silk at her waist until her lower half is completely bare to the lamplight. The curve of her ass, the smooth dip of her spine, the faint sheen of arousal already glistening between her thighs…it’s all exposed. You settle behind her, knees bracketing her hips. Your cock, still hard from her earlier teasing, nudges against her entrance. You lean down, chest pressing along her back, mouth at her ear again.

“The only thing you need to know tonight is how to take my cock.”

Shuhua opens her mouth, probably to fire off another bratty retort. But you don’t give her the chance. You push in with one steady thrust. She chokes on whatever words were coming, body arching sharply beneath you. A raw, broken sound escapes her - half moan, half gasp - as you sink deep, stretching her open in one go. Her walls clench wildly around your length, hot and slick and greedy despite her earlier bravado. You don’t pause. You pull back almost to the tip, then drive in again, harder this time, hips snapping forward. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the pavilion, louder than the distant waves outside. Shuhua’s fingers claw at the quilt. Her cheek presses into the cushion, mouth open, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. Every thrust rocks her forward, every withdrawal drags a whimper from her throat. You keep the rhythm steady, just like she would if she were on top: deep, punishing, no gentleness. One hand slides up to grip her hip, holding her exactly where you want her. The other tangles in her hair so she can’t hide her face. She tries to speak again, but it dissolves into a moan when you angle your hips and hit that spot inside her that makes her whole body tremble. You lean down once more, lips grazing the nape of her neck.

“Quiet.”

You remind her.

“Pretty and quiet.”

She shudders beneath you, walls clenching hard around your cock. But she doesn’t talk back. At least not yet.

You keep the rhythm harsh, each thrust slamming deep, hips colliding with the soft curve of her ass in sharp, punishing slaps that echo through the small pavilion. The bed frame creaks under the force. The quilt bunches beneath her fists. Shuhua’s earlier pretense of quiet vanishes entirely. Instead, she moans. Loud, unrestrained, throatier than you’ve ever heard from her. The sounds spill out raw, carrying through the thin silk screens and into the garden beyond.

She wants the whole estate to hear. Every cry is pitched just right, high enough to pierce the night, drawn out enough to linger. It’s not pleasure alone, it’s performance. A declaration.

“This is me. This is who he’s choosing tonight. This could be the one who carries his next child.”

Your hand shoots forward, clamping over her mouth. Your palm seals tight against her lips, fingers pressing her cheek into the cushion.

“Quiet.”

Shuhua’s eyes flash. She doesn’t obey. Instead, she bites down hard enough to sting, teeth sinking into the meat of your palm. You hiss through your teeth but don’t pull away. She twists her head just enough to speak around your fingers, voice muffled but dripping with bratty triumph.

“Mmph-make me.”

She manages, the words fractured by another loud, broken moan as you drive in particularly deep.

That’s enough. You decide she doesn’t get to keep that smug little voice tonight. You pull your hand free only to slide it down, fingers wrapping around the slender column of her throat. Not choking…yet. Just firm enough to feel her pulse hammering against your palm. You give a light squeeze, then another, timing them with your thrusts. Each press makes her cough, short, startled gasps that cut off her moans mid-note. Her walls spasm around your cock in response, slick and clenching like she can’t decide whether to fight or surrender.

You pound harder. Relentless. No pause, no mercy. The wet slap of skin on skin grows louder and faster. Your hips snap forward with bruising force, burying yourself to the hilt every time, grinding against her cervix until her whole body jolts. Shuhua’s moans fracture completely, reduced to choked whimpers, then to breathless little ah-ah-ah sounds that can’t quite form words anymore. Her nails rake the quilt. Her back arches sharply, trying to take you deeper even as her lungs fight for air. You feel the heat coiling low in your gut, the telltale tightening. Your rhythm stutters for half a second as you chase the edge. Shuhua feels it too. Her body knows exactly what’s coming. She tries to speak again, voice wrecked and trembling, forcing innocence into the words even as her hips push back desperately against you.

“Please… fill me.”

She whispers, soft and sweet like she’s begging for a favor.

“Inside… please, my lord…”

You see straight through it. The wide eyes, the trembling lower lip, the way she clenches around you like she’s trying to milk you dry...She wants your seed. Wants the chance to swell like Xinyu, to claim the one thing your wife already has secured. After tonight’s attitude - the corridor ambush, the loud moans meant to taunt the entire household - you’re not in the mood to reward her.

No. When the pressure builds to breaking, you pull out quickly enough. Shuhua lets out a sharp, disappointed whine, cut short as you stroke yourself twice and spill across her ass. Thick ropes of cum paint her skin in hot streaks, dripping down the curve of her cheeks and pooling in the small of her back. She trembles beneath you, thighs shaking, breath ragged.

You release her throat. She coughs once, twice, then goes still.

For a long moment there’s only the sound of both of you breathing. Shuhua doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Her face is half-buried in the cushion, hair tangled, cheeks flushed dark. The disappointment is plain in the way her shoulders slump, the way her hips twitch once like she’s still hoping you’ll push back in. But she doesn’t dare say it. She doesn’t dare ask why you didn’t finish inside her. She just lies there - marked, used, unsatisfied - while the night outside stays quiet, as if the rest of the estate never heard a thing.

Eight days later, the morning sun filters softly through the carved wooden screens of the garden pavilion. The air carries the fresh scent of sea breeze mixed with jasmine from the nearby bushes. Servants move quietly, setting out steaming bowls of congee topped with pickled vegetables, fresh steamed buns, salted fish, and fragrant tea brewed with Taiwanese herbs. Xinyu is absent this morning. A maid quietly mentioned that the lady woke with mild nausea and chose to rest in her chambers. No one questions it. Pregnancy has its demands.

You sit at the head of the low table. To your right, in their usual order: Tzuyu closest, then Shuhua, then Nien. All three wear light morning robes.

The conversation flows easily, as it always does at these meals. Nien chatters about a new shipment of mangoes that arrived from the island yesterday.

“They’re so sweet this season, my lord. Much better than the ones we get here in Xiamen.”

Shuhua laughs and teases her gently.

“You say that every time a ship docks. One would think you’ve never tasted mainland fruit before.”

Tzuyu adds a soft comment about the weather and how the garden lotus flowers are beginning to bloom. She serves you a perfectly steamed bun with her usual grace, placing it on your plate without drawing attention to herself.

You eat steadily, nodding at their words, but your mind keeps drifting back to last night.

Tzuyu’s pavilion. The way her long legs wrapped around you, her quiet gasps turning into soft cries as you filled her twice. Two creampies that left her belly slightly swollen with your seed by the time you left her bed. The memory is still vivid: her elegant face flushed, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, whispering your title like a prayer while her body trembled around you.

You glance at her now. Tzuyu catches your eye for a brief moment, a faint blush coloring her cheeks before she looks down at her bowl. You wonder silently what would happen if Xinyu gives birth to a daughter… while Tzuyu, after last night, carries your son. The first male heir coming from one of the Taiwanese concubines instead of the principal wife. The shift in power, the whispers among the servants, the way the household balance would tilt…You picture Xinyu’s face. That carefully controlled expression cracking into agitation and quiet fury. The drama that would ripple through the inner quarters, the three girls suddenly competing even harder. The thought amuses you. A low chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it.

At that exact moment, Shuhua is in the middle of telling a light, exaggerated story about one of the kitchen maids mistaking a crab for a sea monster during yesterday’s market trip. Her delivery is sharp and funny, the timing perfect. Everyone at the table turns toward you, assuming your laugh was for Shuhua’s tale.

Nien giggles.

“See? Even the General finds it amusing!”

Tzuyu smiles softly, though her eyes flicker with a hint of curiosity. Shuhua’s back straightens instantly. Her shoulders square with visible triumph, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. She usually doesn’t get open favor when all three of you are together. You keep things balanced to prevent open jealousy. But this morning, that chuckle lands squarely on her. She sits a little taller, her emerald robe shifting as she leans forward just enough to emphasize her figure.

“Thank you, my lord. I’m glad my silly story could brighten the morning.”

You don’t correct them. Instead, you take another sip of tea. Shuhua’s eyes sparkle with quiet victory, while Tzuyu lowers her gaze again, fingers tightening slightly around her chopsticks. Nien watches the exchange with open curiosity, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. Conversation picks up once more around the table. You glance at Tzuyu one more time. She meets your eyes again, before looking away. The breakfast continues with the gentle clinking of porcelain. Nien is now telling a lively story about a mischievous monkey she once saw near the harbor in Tainan as a child, while Shuhua occasionally interjects with teasing remarks. Tzuyu eats quietly.

You set down your chopsticks and reach for the tray of letters next to you which is holding several folded papers sealed with wax or tied with silk threads. You take the tray and begin sorting through them one by one while the girls continue eating and talking around you. The first is a routine report from one of your merchants in Fuzhou: dull matters of silk prices and shipping delays. You scan it quickly and set it aside. The second is a polite note from the local magistrate, thanking you for the recent favor regarding harbor patrols. Nothing urgent. You unfold the third letter. The paper is fine, the handwriting elegant and careful. The seal belongs to a respected Han family from the Tainan region. Tzuyu’s parents, a merchant-official clan that had aligned itself with the Qing after the conquest. They address you with the proper respect due to a victorious general.

“Honored General,

We are overjoyed to hear of the great blessing that has been granted to your household - a child on the way. May Heaven continue to smile upon you and grant your line strength and prosperity for generations.”

“News travels fast.”

You murmur with an amused scoff. The three concubines glance up at you almost simultaneously. Tzuyu’s chopsticks pause mid-air. She must recognize her family’s seal Shuhua’s eyes narrow with interest. Nien tilts her head.

You continue reading. The tone shifts from polite congratulations to something more direct, as expected from ambitious parents who see their daughter as a bridge to greater favor.

“We humbly pray that you will also bestow the same blessing upon our daughter Tzuyu. She is dutiful, graceful, and eager to serve you fully. A son from her would bring even greater glory to your household and secure the bonds between our families. We entrust her completely to your wisdom and care.”

You lower the letter. Your eyes lift and meet Tzuyu’s across the table. She is watching you now, a faint flush creeping up her neck, probably able to guess what the letter of her parents includes. You remember last night vividly: the way she clung to you, the two thick loads you pumped deep inside her, her quiet moans as her body accepted every drop. The thought flickers through your mind again: what if Xinyu bears only a daughter… while Tzuyu is already carrying your son from last night? The potential drama makes the corner of your mouth twitch.

You set the letter down without further comment and pick up the fourth one. This one carries the official seal of Admiral Shi Lang’s command. The handwriting is brisk. You unfold it and scan the contents. It is an order.

“General,

Pirate remnants loyal to the old Zheng cause have grown bold again near Penghu and the southern Taiwan coast. They have raided three merchant junks in the past month and threaten the new settlement routes. You are commanded to take your squadron of ships and two hundred Green Standard troops to suppress these bandits. Depart within ten days. Stabilize the sea lanes and ensure safe passage for imperial trade.”

You read the key lines in silence, then fold the letter neatly and place it on the tray. You take another sip of tea, mind already turning to preparations. Ships to ready, troops to muster, supplies to organize. A campaign of several weeks, perhaps two or three months if the pirates prove slippery.

The morning sun climbs higher as breakfast ends. You leave the garden pavilion with the weight of the military order already pressing on your mind. Preparations for the campaign will take most of your upcoming days.

A few hours later, in a shaded pavilion overlooking the lotus pond, Xinyu sits across from Lady Wei, the wife of the coastal garrison commander who had attended the dinner the night she announced her pregnancy. They play a quiet game of Weiqi on a low rosewood board. Xinyu moves a white stone with elegant precision.

“Your defense is as sharp as ever, Lady Wei.”

The older woman chuckles, placing a black stone to surround a small group.

“One must stay vigilant, especially when new life is growing. How are you feeling this morning? The nausea has passed?”

“A little better. The physician says it is normal in the early months.”

Lady Wei nods knowingly, then adds with a light smile:

“A strong son will make all the discomfort worthwhile. The household will feel more secure once the heir is born.”

Xinyu’s fingers pause over the next stone. The word “son” lingers in the air. She had said the same thing to you many times. She is certain it is a boy. Yet the comment makes her think. She knows you have been spending your nights with the three Taiwanese concubines ever since the pregnancy was confirmed. It is expected, of course. A man of your status cannot be left wanting, and she herself had told you to seek siblings for the child. Still, the reality stings more than she cares to admit. Every morning she notices the faint marks on your neck, the way the girls glance at you with fresh satisfaction. What if one of them is already carrying? What if she gives you only a daughter while one of those island girls produces a son? Her position as principal wife is secure in name, but influence in the household is something else entirely. As the game continues, Xinyu turns the stones over in her mind. She should actively support one of the concubines in front of you. Better to guide the choice than let the competition spiral out of control. Tzuyu is quiet and reserved, but Xinyu suspects it might be a clever front. The girl could be far more calculating than she appears. Shuhua is too wild, too unpredictable. Her sharp tongue and bold nature would make her dangerous if she gained real power. Nien, though… Nien seems the safest. Cute, playful, loveable. She doesn’t scheme openly for status or influence. She simply enjoys attention and seems content with whatever affection she receives. A son from Nien would be easy to manage.

Just as Xinyu settles on that thought, she glances toward the main path and sees you walking toward the outer gates, already dressed for the day’s duties. Dark robe with a military sash, boots ready for the harbor. She excuses herself gracefully.

“Please continue without me for a moment, Lady Wei. I must speak with my husband before he leaves.”

Xinyu rises and walks over to you with slow steps, her crimson robe flowing around her still modest belly. You stop when you see her.

“Xinyu. Are you feeling better this morning?”

She smiles softly, placing a hand lightly over her abdomen.

“Much better, my lord. The boy is behaving himself today.”

You nod, eyes flicking to her hand.

“Good. Take care of yourself…and him.”

Xinyu hesitates only a moment, then speaks with careful subtlety.

“The girls have been attentive lately. Especially Nien. She has such a gentle, cheerful way about her. It brightens the household.”

You acknowledge the comment with a small hum, already thinking about the campaign preparations. Xinyu continues, making it a touch more obvious.

“She would make a fine companion for your nights while I rest. Playful and easy to please. I think you would enjoy her company more often.”

You raise an eyebrow, finally catching the suggestion.

“Nien?”

Xinyu meets your gaze.

“Yes. She seems the least likely to cause unnecessary trouble. A good choice for now.”

You study her for a beat, then nod once.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She smiles again, satisfied that the seed has been planted.

“Go safely with your preparations today. The household will be waiting for your return.”

You bid her farewell and continue toward the gates. Once you are out of sight, Xinyu stands still for a moment, then turns to a waiting maid. She knows your weaknesses well. You can be firm with troops and merchants, but when it comes to the four women in your life, you sometimes let things flow too easily without seeing the undercurrents.

“Call for Nien. Tell her I have a small errand for her in the Xiamen market. She should fetch some fresh Taiwanese mangoes and herbs for my tea. Make sure she leaves soon.”

The maid bows and hurries off.

The midday sun beats down on the bustling Xiamen docks, turning the sea into a glittering expanse of blue. You stand on the raised deck of one of your junks, overseeing the final preparations for the upcoming campaign. Sailors and soldiers swarm the ships, loading barrels of fresh water, crates of dried provisions, bundles of arrows, and extra matchlock muskets. Officers shout orders while carpenters hammer reinforcements onto the hulls. The air smells of salt, tar, fish, and sweat.

You gesture to one of your lieutenants, pointing at a list on a bamboo scroll.

“Double the rice stores. We may be out for two months if the pirates scatter into the smaller islands.”

While the man nods and hurries off, your eyes drift across the crowded waterfront market that sprawls along the docks. Merchants hawk goods straight from newly arrived ships: bolts of silk, crates of tea, Taiwanese fruits, and baskets of wriggling seafood. Fishermen call out their morning catches, their voices blending into the lively chaos.

Then you spot her. Nien moves through the crowd with a small group of maids trailing behind. She wears a simple but pretty peach-colored robe suitable for an outing with subtle floral embroidery that catches the sunlight. Her dark hair is loosely pinned with a few fresh flowers, and her face glows with genuine delight as she examines a stand piled high with ripe mangoes and exotic herbs. She laughs at something one of the maids says, her smile bright and carefree, completely at ease in the noisy market.

You watch her for a moment from your higher vantage point. She looks beautiful, youthful, playful, radiating that innocent charm that always seems to lighten the mood. For a few heartbeats you simply enjoy the sight, the way she tilts her head, the gentle sway of her robe as she reaches for a piece of fruit. Then you remember Xinyu’s words from earlier.

“…Nien. She seems the least likely to cause unnecessary trouble. A good choice for now.”

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the railing. It is broad daylight. You are in the middle of important preparations. Usually, you do not ask for such things so directly, especially not outside the privacy of the estate. And Nien… she is always so bright and cheerful, almost too pure for the kind of raw hunger stirring in you right now. Taking her in some semi-private corner of the market feels almost sinful. Like treating her like a common dockside whore instead of one of your cherished concubines. But the order to depart in ten days hangs over you. The campaign will keep you away for weeks, maybe months. And Xinyu herself planted the suggestion.

You descend the gangplank and stride into the crowded market, your military sash and commanding presence causing people to part instinctively. Merchants bow quickly as you pass. Your eyes stay fixed on Nien. She is standing at a merchant’s stall, happily bargaining over a bundle of fresh Taiwanese herbs when you approach from behind. One of her maids notices you first and quickly bows. Nien turns, and her face lights up with a bright, surprised smile.

“My lord! A wonderful coincidence!”

You nod, suddenly unsure how to steer the conversation. The usual elegance of the inner quarters feels far away in this noisy, public place. Nien tilts her head, still smiling that sunny, innocent smile.

“The mangoes are especially sweet today. Would you like me to pick some for the journey?”

You look at her.  At the way her eyes sparkle, the soft curve of her lips, the way her robe clings lightly to her figure in the sea breeze. Xinyu’s suggestion echoes again in your ear. For a moment the contrast hits you hard. She looks so cheerful and lovable standing here among the common people. It almost feels wrong to pull her away for something so base in the middle of the day.

Yet the hunger wins. You step closer, voice dropping so only she can hear.

“Nien… come with me for a moment.”

She blinks, still smiling, though a flicker of curiosity enters her eyes.

“Of course, my lord. Where to?”

You glance around quickly. The market is crowded, but you know this waterfront well. There is a large merchant warehouse belonging to one of your loyal suppliers just a short walk away. The upper floor has private rooms used for business negotiations, and the owner would never dare question your presence.

You gesture subtly in that direction.

“Follow me. Quietly.”

Nien hands the bundle of herbs to one of her maids with a quick instruction to continue shopping, then falls into step beside you. As you lead her through the crowd toward the warehouse, the sinful contrast lingers in your mind. She chatters lightly about the market finds, completely unaware of what you have in mind, while you feel the growing heat of anticipation. The warehouse door looms ahead. A quick word to the guard at the entrance, and he bows, clearing the way without a single question. The heavy warehouse door slides shut behind you with a solid thud, cutting off the noisy clamor of the market and the sharp smell of fish and salt air. In the sudden quiet, the only thing left is Nien. Her soft, feminine scent hits you immediately. Warm skin, faint jasmine from her hair, and that sweet, light perfume she always wears, mixed with the faint tropical sweetness of the mangoes she had been handling. It floods your senses and triggers a rush of memories. Her giggles in the dark, the way her body arches so willingly beneath you, the soft little sounds she makes when you’re gentle with her.

Your lust surges hard and fast, climbing with every step you take deeper into the dim corridor. You never make it to the private room upstairs. Two steps in, you lightly shove her against a tall stack of wooden crates and barrels. Nien’s back meets the wood with a soft gasp. Her eyes widen in surprise. The playful sparkle is replaced by genuine shock.

“My lord…?”

She stutters, voice small.

“Are you alright?”

You don’t answer with words at first. Your mouth is already on her neck, lips pressing hot against that sensitive spot just below her ear. The one you know makes her knees weak. You kiss, then suck gently, tasting her skin. Nien melts instantly. A shaky breath escapes her. Her hands come up to clutch at your robe, but she still tries to hold onto some dignity.

“W-wait… my lord.”

She whispers, voice trembling even as her head tilts to give you better access.

“Shouldn’t we… go somewhere more private? My chambers… or at least upstairs…”

“I can’t wait another second.”

One hand already roams over her body through the thin peach silk. You cup her breast, squeeze her waist, slide down to grip her hip.

“I’m sorry, Nien. I hate doing this to you like this… like you’re some commoner’s whore in the middle of the docks.”

Nien gasps sharply at your words, her body shivering against yours. Then, to your surprise, a tiny, cute laugh bubbles out of her. Nervous but genuine. She pulls back just enough to look up at you, cheeks flushed pink.

“Do you… want me to act the part?”

You blink, stepping back half a pace in surprise. Nien lets out another soft laugh, shy but playful, covering her mouth with her fingers for a moment.

“I love how careful and loving you always are with me.”

She admits quietly.

“It makes me feel special. But… whenever I hear Shuhua moaning so loudly through the estate, or when I walk past Xinyu’s chambers and hear her begging for more… I can’t help but wonder how it feels to be treated rough sometimes.”

You stare at her, caught off guard by the confession.

“I only treat you this way because of how you look and act. You’re always so cheerful and loving… like a beautiful flower that should be handled gently. Shuhua is just exaggerating when she-”

Nien shakes her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“You really don’t believe the three of us talk about these things? Shuhua brags about it all the time.”

She closes the small distance you created, stepping right up to you again. Her small hands reach down and slowly start undoing the ties of your pants, fingers deft and steady despite the blush on her cheeks.

“You can treat me however you want, my lord. Even if that means I’m just an object for you to release your lust into. I’d… appreciate being treated like that from time to time as well.”

Her fingers finish loosening your pants and slip inside, wrapping gently around your already hard cock. The innocent, cheerful Nien is still there in her bright smile, but now there’s a new spark of curiosity and desire in her gaze. A quiet invitation to be rougher, dirtier, to use her the way you use Shuhua.

“So… what will you do with me, my lord?”

She asks sweetly, almost innocently, while her hand works your length.

“Here, against the crates… like I’m just your little dockside toy?”

The contrast between her cute voice and the filthy offer makes your blood burn even hotter. Your hands tighten on her waist, the raw need from moments ago now completely unleashed. You spin Nien around without warning and shove her forward against the stack of wooden crates. You’re careful not to be too rough at first, just enough force to pin her in place, her palms flattening against the rough wood as she braces herself. Nien lets out a sharp little gasp, her body jolting. A moment later she pushes her ass back against you instinctively, grinding softly, silently asking for more. Your hands roam over her body from behind, sliding up her waist, cupping her breasts through the thin peach silk, then moving down to grip her hips again.

She tries to speak. Her voice is a little awkward as she attempts something filthy.

“I… I’m your little… dockside toy now.”

She stammers a little, the words sounding almost cute despite her effort.

“Use me… however you want…”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

“You don’t have to try so hard.”

You murmur against her ear, one hand already pushing her robe up. You bunch the silk around her waist until her lower body is completely exposed. Nien whimpers softly.

“I’m sorry… I’ll learn. I want to pleasure you as good as I can. I really do.”

You line yourself up and push into her in one thrust. Her pussy is soaked. She’s hot, slick, and surprisingly tight around your cock. Nien moans immediately, a sweet, surprised sound that echoes softly in the dim corridor.

“Oh… my lord…”

She pushes back against you again. You start fucking her from behind, slow and deep at first, letting her adjust. But the hunger from earlier is too strong. You gradually lean into it, picking up speed, pounding harder with each thrust. The wet slap of skin against skin fills the narrow space between the crates. Nien does her best to keep up. Her hands grip the edge of the crate stack tightly, knuckles whitening. She’s never taken you this roughly before, and it shows. Her body trembles as she tries to get used to the intensity. Still, she keeps trying to talk, her voice breaking with every hard snap of your hips.

“You… ah!… you feel so big like this…H-hurry… before anyone sees us…”

There’s no real worry in her tone. If anything, the idea of getting caught seems to excite her. Her pussy clenches tighter around you with every teasing word, and her moans grow a little louder, a little sweeter. You grip her hips harder and thrust deeper, the pace turning rougher. Nien’s legs shake. She bites her lip, trying to stifle another moan, but it slips out anyway.

“I… I can take it…Please… don’t hold back… I want to be good for you…”

Her walls spasm around your cock as you pound into her, the contrast between her usual bright, cheerful self and the way she’s bent over crates in a warehouse only making you fuck her harder. Nien’s breathing turns ragged. She’s clearly still adjusting to the rough treatment, but she’s doing everything she can to please you, pushing her ass back to meet your thrusts, moaning softly with every deep stroke, even trying to keep up her awkward dirty talk between gasps.

You grip Nien harder and start fucking her with real roughness. Your hips snap forward with sharp, punishing thrusts, driving deep into her soaked pussy again and again. The wooden crates creak under the force. One of your hands slides up her back, tangles roughly in her dark hair, and tugs her head back. Several of the pretty flowers she had pinned in earlier tumble to the dusty floor.

“Ahh-!”

A loud, broken moan rips out of her, much louder than before. Her body jolts with every hard thrust, but instead of tensing up, she starts pushing back to meet you, her hips rolling greedily. The awkwardness from moments ago has completely vanished. Now her words spill out naturally, filthy and eager, each one making your cock throb harder inside her.

“Yes-! Fuck me harder, my lord…! Use your little dockside whore… I don’t care if someone walks in right now-I’ll still take every inch of your cock!”

You pound into her faster, the wet sounds of her pussy echoing in the narrow corridor. Nien keeps going, her voice growing bolder with every thrust.

“Take my sweetness away… ruin me…! Fuck the cheerfulness out of your cute little flower… Make me your dirty toy every single day… Please-use me like this whenever you want… I’ll spread my legs for you anywhere!”

You’re genuinely surprised by how loud she’s getting…and how much she’s talking. Shuhua has always been the loudest by far while Tzuyu is the quietest, usually only soft gasps and whispered pleas. Xinyu and Nien normally fall somewhere in the middle, depending on their mood. But right now? Nien has clearly surpassed Xinyu. Her moans are high, sweet, and shameless, filling the warehouse corridor without restraint. If she keeps this up, she might even challenge Shuhua for the top spot. The thought sends another surge of heat through you. You yank her hair a little harder, slamming into her with deep strokes. Nien’s legs shake violently, but she doesn’t try to quiet down. Instead, she cries out even louder.

“Harder-! Please, my lord… I can take it… I want you to break me… Fill me up right here where anyone could see… I don’t care-just use me!”

Her pussy clenches rhythmically around your cock, slick and hot, clearly loving the rough treatment. Every dirty word that leaves her mouth turns you on more, the contrast between her usual bright, innocent personality and the filthy things she’s begging for right now driving you wild. Nien’s voice cracks into another loud moan as you pound her without mercy.

“Do you like hearing your sweet Nien talk like this…? I’ll be louder for you… I’ll scream if you want… Just don’t stop-!”

You can feel her getting closer, her walls clenching around you with every rough thrust. Her cheerful, lovable demeanor has cracked wide open, revealing a hungry, surprisingly vocal side you never expected. She’s still pushing back against you desperately, flowers scattered on the floor around her feet, robe bunched uselessly at her waist, moaning and babbling dirty promises without any shame left.

But the rough pace suddenly changes the moment Nien reaches her peak. Her walls clamp down hard around your cock, fluttering and pulsing in strong, irregular waves. A loud, trembling moan tears from her throat. Then it softens, breaking apart into the familiar sweet sighs and delicate gasps you’re used to hearing from her.

“Ah… ahh… my lord…”

She whimpers, voice turning small and breathy again. For a few heartbeats she sounds exactly like the same old Nien - cute, sweet, almost innocent - as if the filthy words from moments ago had never left her lips. Your body reacts on instinct. You slow down immediately, thrusts turning gentler, almost protective. Something inside you refuses to keep pounding such a sweet, soft girl against dirty crates in a random warehouse. Your hips roll slowly, carefully, letting her ride out the aftershocks while you stay buried deep inside her.

Nien’s breathing gradually steadies. Her head rests against the wooden crate, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Then, to your surprise, her soft voice returns. Still gentle, still sweet, but now carrying a new, shy request.

“…Please… give me your cum. I want it inside… Fill me up, my lord…”

You blink, caught off guard. Nien has never asked for your seed like this before. The words sound almost too filthy coming from her usual bright, cheerful tone. You wonder if she picked that up from listening to Shuhua’s loud bragging sessions through the walls. You aren’t pounding her anymore, just slow, gentle thrusts, keeping her full while you process the contrast. Her innocent voice begging for something so dirty makes your head spin even harder than the rough fucking did.

“I want to feel it… deep inside me… Please cum for me…”

That sweet, lovable tone combined with her filthy plea finally pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard. You groan low against her neck and spill deep into her waiting pussy, thick ropes of cum flooding her warmth. Nien gasps and moans sweetly as she feels every pulse, her walls shaking again around you as if trying to milk out every drop.

“Thank you…Thank you for using me…”

Your lust slowly drains away, leaving your body heavy. You slump forward slightly, pressing her gently between your chest and the stack of crates. She’s trapped there, unable to move, your cock still buried inside her cum-filled cunt as it slowly softens.

For a long moment neither of you speaks. Then Nien lets out a shy little laugh.

“I… I enjoyed that very much. I don’t want to ask you to be so rough with me all the time… but whenever you’re in the mood for it… you can have me like this. Anytime.”

You lean down and press a soft kiss to her naked shoulder. The robe had slipped down earlier when you were tugging at it. Her skin is warm and slightly damp with sweat. Your eyes drift to the floor. A few scattered flowers lie among the dust. You make a mental note to buy her new ones on the way back to the estate later today. Her favorites.

You stay locked together like that for a while longer, your body shielding hers, cock still nestled inside her. Then Nien’s usual bright energy slowly returns. Even with you still buried deep inside her, her mind seems to drift far away from sex. She starts chattering again in that cheerful, playful voice you know so well.

“After you come back from your duties today… do you think we could play a game together? Maybe Weiqi in the garden pavilion? Or that new card game the merchants brought from the south? I’ve been practicing!”

You can tell she’s genuinely excited. Not about more sex, but simply about spending time with you. Her tone is light and happy, as if the intense moment against the crates had already become a fond memory rather than the main focus. You smile against her shoulder.

“I’ll make sure I have some time before dinner.”

Nien lets out a delighted little hum, her body relaxing even more against you.

A month has passed. The campaign against the pirate remnants has been grueling. Weeks of chasing shadows across the Taiwan Strait, stormy seas, and tense night raids on hidden coves near Penghu. Your squadron has sunk three pirate junks and scattered the rest, but the work is far from over.

Three days ago, while your ships were resupplying at a small harbor on the western coast of Taiwan, a messenger arrived from Nien’s family. Somehow, they had learned of your presence and extended a formal invitation. You and a small retinue were welcome to stay at their modest but respectable estate near Tainan for the remainder of the campaign. It would give your men safer anchorage and better provisions while you coordinated with local Qing officials. You hesitated for several reasons. Staying with the family of one of your concubines carried political weight. It could be seen as favoritism. It might also encourage the very competition you preferred to keep balanced. But refusing the offer outright would have been a grave insult to a family that had already lost much influence after the conquest. So, you accepted with measured gratitude.

Now you stand in the guest quarters of their estate, quickly cleaning yourself after another long week at sea. Servants bring fresh hot water and clean robes. You wash the salt from your skin, change into a simple but dignified dark silk robe, and make your way to the main hall for dinner. The hall is warmly lit with lanterns and candles. A long lacquered table is set with an impressive spread of fresh seafood, braised pork, fragrant rice, pickled vegetables, and delicate soups. Nien’s father, a scholarly looking man in his late forties named Master Lin, rises to greet you with a deep, respectful bow. His wife, Madam Lin, stands beside him, elegant in a muted green robe, her expression warm.

“General.”

Master Lin gestures for you to take the seat of honor.

“We are deeply honored by your presence. Please, make yourself comfortable. This humble home is yours for as long as you need it.”

You bow slightly in return and take your seat.

“I must thank you again for your generous hospitality. Your offer has made the campaign far more bearable. My men and I are grateful.”

Master Lin is tactful and measured as the meal begins. He speaks of the weather, the recent trade routes, and the stability the Qing has brought to the region. He never directly mentions Nien or any expectations. Yet you can read between the lines. This invitation is strategic. By hosting you, he strengthens his family’s ties to a powerful general and hopes his daughter will rise in your household. Still, he remains polite and respectful.

His wife is different. Madam Lin smiles sweetly as she serves you a choice piece of fish.

“Our Nien has always been such a bright and loving child.”

Her eyes flicker toward you.

“She brings such joy wherever she goes. We pray every day that she continues to bring that same joy… and perhaps even greater blessings… to your esteemed household.”

The hint is gentle but unmistakable. She doesn’t say the words “get her pregnant,” but the meaning is clear. They hope Nien will soon follow Xinyu’s example and give you another child…ideally a son.

You nod politely, murmuring thanks, but inside you feel the weight of the conversation. Eating with Nien’s parents is proving almost as exhausting as fighting pirates. Every smile, every carefully worded comment feels like navigating hidden reefs. As Madam Lin continues praising Nien’s sweetness, her gentle nature, and her “pure heart,” your mind drifts unavoidably to memories that make you feel strangely guilty. The warehouse a month ago. Nien bent over those crates, moaning filthily while you fucked her raw in broad daylight. The way she begged you to ruin her sweetness, to use her like a toy. The flowers scattered on the dirty floor.

And then the night just two days before your departure from Xiamen…You had gone to her chambers expecting another gentle, sweet night. At first it was exactly that - soft kisses, her bright laughter, her body warm and welcoming beneath you. But then, to your surprise, Nien had gently pushed you onto your back. For the first time ever, she climbed on top of you, straddled your hips, and slowly sank down onto your cock. She rode you with shy determination, her small hands on your chest, her hair falling around her face as she moved. Her moans had been softer than in the warehouse, but there was a new hunger in her eyes. She had whispered things she had never said before, asking if she was pleasing you, if you liked the way she took control for once. You can still picture the way her breasts bounced gently with each roll of her hips, the cute, concentrated expression on her face as she tried to ride you to completion.

Now, sitting here at her parents’ table while her mother praises that same “sweet, innocent” daughter, the contrast hits you hard. You feel almost like you’ve corrupted something pure. The cheerful, lovable Nien who chatters about games and flowers is the same girl who begged you to treat her like a dockside whore and then sweetly asked for your cum while riding you.

Madam Lin’s voice pulls you back.

“…and we are certain that with your guidance, our daughter will continue to grow and flourish in every way.”

You raise your cup in a polite toast, hiding your thoughts behind a calm expression.

The dinner continues. The food is excellent, but the conversation is a careful dance. Master Lin steers topics toward safer waters like local governance, the pirate situation,  and your recent victories. Madam Lin occasionally slips in another gentle hint about family, legacy, and the blessings of many children. You eat and respond with politeness, all while vivid memories of Nien, both the innocent and the surprisingly eager versions, linger at the edge of your mind.

Your ships slipped into Xiamen harbor just before midnight, the sails heavy with salt and victory. It took nearly two more hours to organize the docking, unloading wounded men, securing captured pirate banners and weapons, assigning guards, and sending preliminary reports to Admiral Shi Lang. By the time you finally mounted your horse and rode toward the estate, the moon was high and the streets of Xiamen were quiet.

As you approach the main gates, you notice something unusual. Despite the late hour, lanterns are lit along every path and courtyard. Warm golden light spills from windows and pavilions. The entire estate is awake. The moment the heavy gates swing open and you step into the main courtyard, you are greeted exactly as expected. Nearly the entire household has gathered. Servants line the sides holding lanterns. Your steward stands at the front with a deep bow. And in the center, waiting for you, are the four women who rule your inner world.

Xinyu stands slightly ahead of the others, her crimson robe flowing around her noticeably larger belly. Three months have transformed her. The gentle curve has become a full, rounded swell that she carries with quiet pride. Her hair is neatly pinned, and though fatigue shadows her eyes, she holds herself with the dignity of the principal wife. Behind her stand the three concubines in a neat row. Tzuyu on the left, elegant in pale blue silk, posture perfect as always. Shuhua in the middle, vibrant green robes hugging her figure, a small smirk already playing on her lips. Nien on the right, soft peach silk glowing in the lantern light, her bright smile lighting up her face the moment she sees you.

As one, they all bow deeply.

“Welcome home, General.”

Xinyu says first.

“Welcome home, my lord.”

The three concubines echo, their voices blending together.

You return the greeting with a nod.

“It is good to be back.”

You step closer to Xinyu, eyes dropping instinctively to her swollen belly. You reach out and gently touch her arm.

“Are you doing alright? You shouldn’t have stayed up so late or woken the entire household just to welcome me. You need rest, especially now.”

Xinyu meets your gaze. There is clear love in her eyes, soft and genuine, even beneath the exhaustion.

“It is my duty as your wife.”

She replies simply.

“And… I wanted to see you return safely.”

You nod, then turn to address everyone.

“Go back to sleep. All of you. The night is late and tomorrow will be busy enough.”

The servants and steward immediately begin to scatter with bows and quiet murmurs of:

“Yes, General.”

Xinyu starts to turn with you as you guide her gently toward her chambers, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back to support her. Before you’ve taken more than a few steps, Xinyu pauses and glances back at the retreating maids.

“Prepare some warm food for the General. Light congee, steamed buns, and tea. Bring it to my chambers.”

The maids bow and hurry off to obey.

The three concubines remain standing for a moment longer, watching as you lead Xinyu away. You can feel their eyes on your back. None of them speak, but the air is thick with unspoken anticipation. They know you have just returned after three long months. They know the nights ahead will be filled with competition once again.

You continue walking with Xinyu, the lanterns along the path lighting your way toward her pavilion. Her steps are slower now, weighted by the growing child inside her. She leans into your touch, the love in her eyes still visible even in the dim light.

You reach the entrance to Xinyu’s chambers. The heavy silk curtains sway gently in the night breeze. Xinyu looks up at you, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly.

“Will you stay with me tonight, my lord?”

She asks softly, though she already knows the answer may not be simple. You look down at your salt stained robes and travel worn appearance, then gently shake your head.

“I do not dare enter your halls in this state. I smell of the sea and weeks of campaign. Let me bathe first. I promise I will return afterward.”

Xinyu studies you for a moment, then a small, teasing smile curves her lips.

“Very well, my lord. But do not take too long. A wife can only be patient for so long… especially when her husband has been away for three months.”

You give her a nod and a faint smile before turning toward the private bathing courtyard.

The bathing pool is one of the few luxuries you allow yourself. Set in a secluded corner of the inner garden, surrounded by high screens and flowering jasmine vines, it is fed by heated water carried in by servants. Lanterns hang from the wooden beams overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over the rippling surface.

You sink into the pool with a low sigh of relief. The water feels impossibly soft and clean compared to the harsh, salty waves you have lived in for months. Heat seeps into your tired muscles as you lean back against the smooth stone edge, closing your eyes for a moment. The night is quiet except for the gentle lap of water and the distant chirping of insects.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you catch a shadow moving near the edge of the lantern light. Your body reacts instantly. Your hand shoots out toward the knife you had placed beside your folded clothes on the low bench behind you.

Before your fingers can close around the hilt, the shadow steps fully into the light.

It is Tzuyu.

She stands at the edge of the pool, wearing a simple but elegant white inner robe that clings lightly to her figure. Her long hair is loosely tied, a few strands framing her face. She looks slightly more confident than usual. Shoulders straighter, chin lifted just a fraction higher. The change is subtle, but you notice it immediately.

You relax your hand and let it fall back into the water.

Tzuyu has always been quiet and reserved, but right now you cannot help wondering if she has schemed something while you were away. The letter from her parents three months ago still lingers in your memory. The polite but clear urging to get their daughter pregnant. If Tzuyu takes after them at all, she might be here with similar intentions. Yet, just like Xinyu, you can never quite tell with her. Is this quiet confidence a calculated move, or simply her natural grace?

She hesitates at the edge of the pool, fingers lightly twisting the sash of her robe. You watch her in silence, already expecting what is coming. Tzuyu finally meets your gaze.

“My lord… would you allow me the honor of your company?”

She takes one graceful step closer.

“After all, a man of your status should not have to wash himself alone.”

She stands there, waiting, the lantern light casting a gentle glow on her skin and making her eyes shine with quiet expectation. You lean back against the smooth stone edge of the pool, the warm water lapping gently at your chest.

“You don’t have to be so formal when we’re alone, Tzuyu.”

Tzuyu lowers her gaze for a moment, a faint blush touching her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

Then, after a small pause, she adds, almost shyly:

“Since we are alone… it should be fine if I join you in the water.”

You don’t answer right away. You simply watch her. Tzuyu takes your silence as invitation. She reaches for the sash of her white inner robe. With slow, teasing movements she unties it, letting the fabric part. Your breath catches as she begins to undress right there on the other side of the pool. The robe slides off her shoulders first, revealing the elegant line of her collarbones and the gentle swell of her breasts. She continues, letting the silk glide down her body like water, exposing the smooth curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the long, graceful length of her legs. Finally, the robe pools at her feet, leaving her completely naked.

You have never seen Tzuyu like this before. Fully bare, standing at a distance where you can take in every inch of her at once. In the dim lantern light of her chambers, it was always darker, closer, more intimate. Here, under the warm glow of the lanterns, she looks almost unreal: tall, slender, perfectly proportioned, with smooth pale skin and long black hair cascading down her back. Her breasts are full and firm, nipples already slightly hardened by the night air. Her waist is narrow, hips gently curved, and between her thighs you can see the delicate line of her pussy.

Tzuyu seems a little shy under your undivided stare. She shifts her weight slightly, one hand instinctively moving to cover herself before she catches the motion and lowers it again. But there’s also a quiet pleasure in her eyes, as if she enjoys the way you’re looking at her. She steps slowly into the pool. The water ripples around her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs as she wades toward you. When she finally stands directly in front of you, the water reaching just below her breasts, she hesitates for only a heartbeat. Then she leans in carefully, giving you time to pull away if you wish.

Her lips meet yours in a soft, tentative kiss. You respond naturally. Your hands rise from the water and find her naked body, roaming slowly over her wet skin, tracing the curve of her waist, sliding up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She trembles slightly under your touch.

When she finally draws away just enough to look at you, you are too relaxed after the long campaign to take charge. You simply watch her, hands still resting on her hips under the water. Tzuyu’s cheeks are faintly pink. She moves closer, carefully straddling your lap beneath the surface. You feel the heat of her body even through the warm water. Your now hard cock presses against her tight, flat tummy as she settles on top of you.

You let out a low chuckle.

“You said you’d wash me.”

Your voice is rough with amusement and growing desire.

“Not pleasure me.”

Tzuyu’s blush deepens, but she doesn’t look away.

“Can’t I do both?”

The warm water laps gently around your bodies. Lantern light flickers across her wet skin. She is beautiful, elegant, and clearly offering herself to you after three long months apart. You lean back against the edge of the pool, the warm water lapping at your shoulders, and give her a slow smile.

“I’m sure you can do both.”

Tzuyu’s lips curve into a gentle, pleased smile.

“Then I will try my best, my lord.”

Her hand slips beneath the water. You feel her slender fingers wrap around your hard cock, stroking you slowly from base to tip. The sensation is smooth and teasing in the warm water.

“I’ll start with this.”

You rest your arms along the stone edge and watch her. Tzuyu’s naked upper body is beautiful in the lantern light. The elegant curve of her shoulders, the full swell of her breasts with water droplets sliding down them, the graceful line of her neck…She keeps her eyes on you as she strokes, her touch growing a little firmer, a little more confident with every pass.

After a few moments, Tzuyu rises slightly on her knees. She positions herself over you, one hand still guiding your cock. Then she slowly lowers herself. You watch her face closely. Pleasure washes over her features the moment the head of your cock parts her folds. Her lips part in a soft gasp. Her brows furrow slightly as she sinks down. Her eyes flutter half-closed, and a quiet, trembling moan escapes her. It’s clear she has been just as eager for this as you have been for her. Three long months apart have left her hungry too.

You feel every inch as her tight, silky pussy lips glide down your length, enveloping you slowly, warmly and completely. She is wetter than the pool water, her inner walls clinging to you with familiar perfection.

Tzuyu is not like Shuhua. She prefers it slower, especially when she’s on top. She begins to move with graceful rolls of her hips, grinding down deeply, then lifting and bouncing in a smooth, controlled rhythm. Her hands rest on your chest for balance as she rides you, doing her best to make your head roll back with every motion.

For several long minutes she works you like this: slow, deep grinds mixed with gentle bounces, her breasts swaying softly with the movement. The water ripples around your joined bodies in steady waves. Tzuyu’s breathing grows heavier, her quiet moans filling the night air. Then she leans down, pressing her wet breasts against your chest. Her lips brush your ear.

“My lord…”

She breathes, still moving on you.

“I think… I am with child.”

The words hit you like a quiet thunderclap. She continues riding you slowly as she speaks, her voice trembling with both pleasure and nervousness.

“All the signs are there. The missed courses, the tenderness, the way my body feels different… but I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even the physician. I wanted you to know first.”

Tzuyu pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still gently rolling her hips, your cock buried deep inside her. She searches your face, waiting for your reaction while her body keeps moving on you with that same graceful, needy rhythm.

The night is quiet as Nien stands just outside the kitchen courtyard, hands clasped in front of her peach-colored robe. She had been waiting patiently for several minutes when the two maids finally emerge, carrying a lacquered tray with warm congee, steamed buns, pickled vegetables, and a pot of fragrant tea. Exactly what Xinyu had ordered for you.

Nien steps forward with a bright, innocent smile.

“Let me take that to the General.”

She offers sweetly.

“He must be very tired after such a long journey. I would be happy to bring it to him.”

The maids exchange a quick glance, but they know better than to refuse one of the master’s concubines. They hand over the tray without argument.

“Thank you.”

Nien says cheerfully, balancing the tray carefully as she turns and heads toward the private bathing courtyard. She knows exactly where you are. The lanterns glowing softly in that direction are impossible to miss.

The garden paths are dimly lit, the night air cool and filled with the scent of jasmine. Nien walks quickly but gracefully, her mind already imagining the your tired smile when she arrives with food. She rounds a corner near the moon gate…

… and nearly collides with Shuhua.

Both women stop short. The tray wobbles dangerously in Nien’s hands. A few drops of tea splash over the edge. Shuhua startles, stepping back with a sharp intake of breath, her vibrant green robe swirling around her legs.

“Nien!”

Shuhua hisses.

“Shuhua!”

Nien replies, steadying the tray with both hands. Her usual bright tone carries a hint of surprise and wariness.

For a moment they simply stare at each other in the half dark. They don’t hate each other - there has never been open hostility between any of the three concubines - but Nien has always found Shuhua suspicious, and Shuhua clearly feels the same about the overly cheerful youngest.

Shuhua crosses her arms, one eyebrow raised.

“Going to the bathing courtyard? With food? How thoughtful of you.”

Nien tilts her head, still smiling but with a sharper edge.

“Xinyu asked me to bring it. The General needs to eat after his long journey. Why are you heading in that direction so late?”

Shuhua lets out a short, scoffing laugh.

“Don’t play innocent. You’re trying to get to him first.”

“And you aren’t?”

Nien shoots back, voice still light but now clearly defensive.

“You’ve been waiting for him to return just as much as I have. Don’t pretend you were just taking a midnight stroll.”

Shuhua steps closer.

“At least I’m honest about wanting his attention. You act all sweet and harmless, but we both know why you’re really bringing him food at this hour.”

Nien’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t back down.

“And you act all bold and fiery, but you’re doing the exact same thing. We’re both trying to gain his favor tonight. There’s no point in denying it.”

A tense silence stretches between them. The tray remains steady in Nien’s hands, but the air crackles with mutual suspicion.

Finally, Shuhua lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes.

“Fine. We both want to see him. There’s no use fighting over it right now.”

Nien nods, her bright smile returning, though it’s a little tighter than usual.

“Exactly. So… shall we go together?”

Shuhua hesitates for half a second, then gives a small, reluctant nod.

“Together. But don’t think this means I’m sharing nicely.”

The two women fall into step side by side, heading toward the glowing lanterns of the bathing courtyard. Nien carefully balances the tray while Shuhua walks with her usual confident stride. The rivalry simmers just beneath the surface, but for now, they have reached an uneasy truce. As they approach the entrance to the private bathing area, both can see the warm light spilling out and hear the faint sound of water rippling.

Nien and Shuhua step quietly into the bathing courtyard together, the tray of food balanced carefully in Nien’s hands. They both stop dead in their tracks the moment they see what is happening in the pool. Tzuyu is in your lap, facing you, her long bare back and elegant shoulders glowing in the lantern light. Her hips move in slow, graceful rolls as she rides you. The water ripples gently around your joined bodies. From behind, they can see the elegant line of her spine, the way her muscles flex and shift with every movement, and the subtle bounce of her long black hair.

Tzuyu lets out a soft, needy moan.

“More… please, my lord…”

Shuhua’s expression instantly darkens. Her jaw tightens and her eyes flash with fury. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, practically vibrating with irritation.

“Tzuyu is such a slut.”

She hisses under her breath, loud enough for Nien to hear. Nien bites her tongue hard to stop herself from snapping back that Shuhua is easily the biggest slut in the entire household. Instead, she feels a quiet wave of sadness wash over her. She isn’t really angry, just disappointed. She had hoped to have you to herself tonight, even if only for a little while. Now she will only get a third of your attention.

While Shuhua is still fuming, Nien sets the tray of food down on a nearby stone bench without a word. She doesn’t want to fall behind. Shuhua makes the decision first. Without saying anything else, she starts pulling off her robe, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. Her naked body is revealed in the lantern light: bold curves, smooth skin, and an unmistakable air of confidence. Nien quickly follows her example. She unties her peach robe and shrugs it off, stepping out of the silk puddle at her feet. Her own body is softer and more delicate than Shuhua’s, but no less beautiful.

Both women move toward the pool together. They step carefully into the warm water, the liquid rising around their legs, then their thighs, then their hips. The ripples they create spread outward, disturbing the calm surface.

Tzuyu is still riding you slowly when the sound of their movement reaches her. She doesn’t stop, but her head turns slightly, eyes widening as she notices the two new arrivals. Shuhua and Nien wade closer until they are only a few steps away from where Tzuyu sits impaled on your cock. The air in the bathing courtyard grows thick with tension, jealousy, and unspoken competition. Tzuyu’s hips continue their gentle, graceful motion as she looks at the other two women, a faint blush on her cheeks. Shuhua stops with her hands on her hips, water lapping at her waist, and stares directly at you with a challenging glint in her eyes. Nien stands beside her, quieter, her expression a mix of envy and shy hope as she watches Tzuyu’s flawless back and the way her body moves on you.

You notice the movement at the edge of the pool and lift your gaze. Nien and Shuhua stand there, both completely naked, the warm lantern light dancing across their wet skin. Shuhua’s body is bold and curvaceous, perky breasts and strong hips cutting through the surface. Nien’s figure is softer, more delicate, her skin glowing with that same innocent charm she always carries.

The moment you see them, your cock twitches hard inside Tzuyu. Tzuyu feels it immediately. Her walls flutter around you in response, and she lets out a tiny, surprised gasp, her hips stuttering for a second before she continues her slow ride.

You can’t help it. An amused chuckle escapes your throat.

Tzuyu’s cheeks flush deeper as she realizes the other two are watching her ride you so openly. Shuhua’s usual confident smirk falters for half a heartbeat, replaced by a flicker of awkwardness. Nien’s bright eyes widen, her hands instinctively moving to cover her chest before she catches herself and lowers them again. They’ve never seen each other fully naked like this. The usual private intimacy of the bedchambers has suddenly become very public. None of them quite know how to act now that they are all together in the same pool. You feel a brief moment of uncertainty yourself. Three naked, beautiful concubines surrounding you after three long months away is almost overwhelming.

You motion with your head.

“Shuhua. Left side.”

You turn slightly and gesture to the other side.

“Nien. Right.”

Shuhua moves first, wading through the water with that bold stride until she’s pressed against your left side. Nien follows more shyly, slipping into the water on your right until her soft body brushes against you. The moment they settle, Tzuyu - clearly not willing to lose her place on your cock - starts putting in more effort. Her hips roll deeper, grinding down harder, her tight pussy squeezing around you with renewed determination. Her breathing grows heavier as she rides you more purposefully. You reach out with your left hand and grope Shuhua’s perky tits, squeezing the firm flesh and rolling her nipple between your fingers. Shuhua lets out a sharp, pleased breath and arches into your touch. At the same time, you pull Nien closer with your right arm, tilting her chin up so you can claim her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. She melts into it instantly, her soft lips parting for you, a tiny whimper vibrating against your tongue. While you kiss Nien and fondle Shuhua, Tzuyu continues riding you steadily, her long legs flexing under the water as she works herself on your cock.

In the back of your mind, the news Tzuyu whispered earlier still burns. The possibility that she is already carrying your child. The thought sends another throb through your length, making Tzuyu moan softly.

You hope Xinyu doesn’t mind you indulging a little tonight. After three months away, and with her own belly growing heavier by the day, she might even understand. For now, you focus on the three women surrounding you. Shuhua presses her breasts more firmly into your groping hand, her usual bratty energy already starting to surface again. Nien kisses you back sweetly, her smaller hand resting shyly on your chest. Tzuyu keeps riding you with quiet determination, clearly trying to remind everyone that she was here first.

The warm water laps around all four of you as the night air grows thicker with tension and desire.

The morning sun beats down on the training ground, turning the dirt courtyard into a haze of dust and heat. You move through the forms, wooden practice sword clashing against your partner’s in sharp, rhythmic strikes. Sweat runs down your bare chest and back, soaking the waistband of your trousers. Your breathing is heavy, muscles burning after weeks of pushing yourself hard since returning from the campaign. You parry a strong overhead blow, then counter with a low sweep that forces your opponent to jump back. The soldiers watching from the sidelines murmur in approval.

Just as you reset your stance for another exchange, you catch sight of a servant hurrying across the edge of the training ground. The man is moving quickly, his face tense. You raise your hand and step back, lowering your sword.

“Enough for now.”

You tell your practice partner, who bows and retreats. You wipe sweat from your brow with the back of your arm and motion the servant closer. He approaches, bowing deeply the moment he’s within speaking distance.

“General, Lady Xinyu… she has gone into labour.”

You straighten immediately, chest still heaving from the exertion. Sweat continues to trickle down your temples, but the fatigue in your muscles is forgotten in an instant.

“When?”

“Just now, my lord. The midwife and her maids are with her. Lady Xinyu asked that you be informed right away.”

You nod once, already turning toward the inner quarters.

“Prepare hot water and clean cloths if they haven’t already.”

You order as you start walking.

“And send word to the physician if he isn’t there yet.”

The servant bows again and hurries off to carry out your commands.

You stride across the courtyard, practice sword still in hand, sweat cooling on your skin in the morning breeze. The training ground and your soldiers fade behind you as your focus narrows entirely to Xinyu’s pavilion. Your mind races with a mix of anticipation and concern. Xinyu’s belly had grown significantly. The child - the one she has been so certain is a son - is finally coming.

As you pass through the moon gate into the women’s quarters, you can already hear faint activity ahead: maids moving quickly, low voices, and the occasional strained sound that might be Xinyu.

The three concubines are nowhere in sight yet, but you know they will learn of this soon enough. The news will spread through the household like wildfire.

You reach the entrance to Xinyu’s chambers. The heavy silk curtains have been pulled back, and several maids hover nervously just outside.

One of them bows deeply when she sees you.

“General… Lady Xinyu is in her bed. The pains have started strongly. The midwife says it is progressing well, but it may take some time.”

You hand your practice sword to the nearest servant without a word and step inside.

The room is warm, scented with medicinal herbs and incense meant to ease the birth. Xinyu lies propped up on the large bed, her face flushed and damp with sweat. Her crimson robe is loosened and pushed up, her swollen belly clearly visible and tight with another contraction. She grips the sheets tightly, breathing through the pain with determined focus.

When she sees you enter, her eyes soften despite the discomfort.

“My lord…You came quickly.”

You move to her side, taking her hand in yours. Her fingers are surprisingly strong as they squeeze yours during the next wave of pain. The midwife, an experienced older woman, kneels nearby, quietly giving instructions to the assisting maids.

Xinyu looks up at you, her free hand resting protectively on her belly.

“It is time. Our child is coming.”

Outside the chamber, you can already hear hurried footsteps, the news spreading fast through the estate. The three concubines will likely arrive soon, drawn by the commotion and the weight of what this birth could mean for all of them.

You stay beside Xinyu, holding her hand as another contraction builds.

[elryuse]

Queen Of The Streets Ch.1

Words : 8,000 Words

The air in the empty university corridor felt thin, charged. It smelled of old wax and the faint, metallic scent of rain. Your own breathing sounded loud in the oppressive quiet. They had you cornered. Four silhouettes against the fading daylight from the high windows.

Kim Nakyoung was the first to step into a sliver of light. Her smile was wide, almost friendly, but her eyes held a flicker of something sharper. “Hey, relax,” she said, her voice a cheerful contrast to the tension. “It’s just a bike. Fenders can be bent back.” She winked, but the gesture felt like a warning.

Then Park Sohyun moved. She didn’t walk; she flowed, a panther in black leather. The studs on her jacket gleamed dully. She stopped a pace away, close enough you could smell the leather of her gear and something else, something wild and floral—motor oil and jasmine. Her eyes, dark and glittering, held yours. She didn’t blink.

“Just a bike?” Sohyun’s voice was a low, velvet rumble. “You dented the heart of an Iron Rose. That’s not a fender. That’s a declaration.”

From the shadows to her right, Zhou Xinyu spoke. Her tone was colder, a blade of ice compared to Sohyun’s smoldering coal. “The cost of the part, plus labor, plus the insult… You’re a student. You don’t have that kind of money.” She stepped forward, her movements precise, analytical. She looked you over as if assessing salvage. “But you have something else. Time. Obedience.”

Your throat was dry. “I can… I can get a job. Pay you back in installments.”

Sohyun laughed, a short, sharp sound that echoed off the lockers. “Installments?” She took the final step, eliminating the gap between you. You could feel the heat radiating from her. “This isn’t a bank, little mouse. This is the street. Debts are paid in blood, sweat, or service.”

Her gloved hand came up, and you flinched. But she didn’t strike. Instead, her thumb brushed slowly, deliberately, across your lower lip. The leather was cool and rough. Your whole world narrowed to that point of contact. A warm, unfamiliar pulse stirred low in your stomach.

“From now on,” Sohyun murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you belong to us. To me.”

“What does that mean?” you managed to ask, your own voice barely a whisper.

It was Nien who answered, stepping from behind Xinyu. You hadn’t even fully processed her presence until now. Your old study partner from Intro to Sociology. The quiet girl who always had her nose in a book. Gone was the oversized cardigan and timid smile. Her hair was shaved on one side, a brutal line against the dark fall on the other. Her eyes, once shy, were flat and assessing. “It means you run errands. You listen. You learn the rules.” A ghost of her old smile touched her lips, but it was all teeth. “Consider it a… practical education.”

Nakyong bounced on the balls of her feet. “Oh, it’ll be fun! We need a gofer. Someone to hold things, clean things…” Her gaze traveled over you with a new, appraising interest. “Fetch things.”

Xinyu’s voice cut through Nakyoung’s enthusiasm. “Your first lesson. Proximity.” She gestured to the space directly in front of Sohyun. “You do not stand at her. You stand for her. Which means you are close. You are alert. You anticipate.”

Sohyun’s thumb was still on your lip. Her other hand came up to cradle your jaw, her grip firm, unyielding. She tilted your face up to the light. Her gaze was everywhere—on your eyes, your mouth, the frantic jump of the pulse in your throat.

“He’s scared,” Nien observed, her tone clinical.

“Good,” Sohyun breathed out. “Fear is focus. But I don’t want terror. I want… anticipation.” Her eyes locked onto yours. The command in them was absolute. “Breathe.”

You sucked in a shaky breath.

“For me,” she amended, her voice a soft command.

You exhaled slowly, the air trembling out of you. Her approving hum vibrated through her fingers into your skin.

“Better.” She leaned in, her lips nearly brushing your ear. Her scent enveloped you—jasmine, leather, the faintest hint of gasoline. Her whisper was a private promise, a threat, a secret all at once. “This is how it starts. With a debt. With a word. With my hands on you, deciding where you go, what you do.” She pulled back just enough to see your face again. Her dark eyes were pools of intent. “You’ll wash the bikes. Not just Nakyoung’s. All of them. You’ll be at the garage by eight tomorrow. You’ll wear what we tell you to wear. You’ll answer when we call.”

She finally removed her thumb from your lip, but the sensation remained, branded there. She traced the line of your jaw down to your chin, her touch possessive.

“And if you’re very, very good,” Sohyun continued, her voice dropping again, a intimate murmur meant only for you, “if you learn your place and serve it well… there are other ways a debt can be settled. More personal forms of currency.”

Nakyong giggled, a bright, knowing sound. Xinyu simply watched, a faint, calculating curve to her mouth. Nien’s expression remained unreadable.

Sohyun’s gaze dipped to your mouth, then back to your eyes. The sexual tension wasn’t a crackle in the air; it was a slow, deep thrum, a bass note you felt in your bones. It was in the way her body angled towards yours, in the proprietary sweep of her gaze, in the unspoken what if that hung between every word.

“Do you understand the terms of your… employment?” Sohyun asked, her lips now so close to yours you could feel the whisper of her breath.

You couldn’t speak. You nodded, a slight, jerky motion.

A true smile, one of pure, predatory delight, spread across Sohyun’s face. “Good.” She leaned in one final time, her lips almost, almost meeting the corner of your mouth. They hovered there for a heartbeat, a promise of a touch withheld. The heat of her, the intention, was more potent than any kiss.

Then she was stepping back, the spell breaking. She turned, her leather jacket creaking.

“Nien,” Sohyun said, not looking back. “Bring him to the garage tomorrow. Make sure he’s… presentable.”

Nien gave a single, sharp nod, her eyes on you. “He’ll be ready.”

Sohyun and Xinyu melted into the shadows at the end of the corridor. Nakyoung gave you a final, fluttering wave and skipped after them.

Leaving you alone with Nien. Your old friend. The stranger in the leather vest.

She didn’t smile. She just looked at you, her head tilted. “Eight o’clock,” she said, her voice devoid of its former warmth. “Don’t be late. And wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.” A pause, heavy with implication. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

The echo of their boots faded down the corridor, leaving you alone with the lingering scent of leather and threat. Kim Nakyoung didn’t follow the others. She leaned against a row of lockers, her wide smile softening into something more intimate.

“Hey,” she said, her voice losing its performative edge. “Look at you. Shaking like a leaf.” She pushed off the lockers and closed the distance, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. Her touch was warmer than Sohyun’s, more familiar. “Everything’s gonna be alright, Lil Pup. Sohyun… she likes to make an impression. The debt’s real, but it’s not a death sentence.” Her thumb stroked your cheekbone. “How about you take a ride with me? Get your head straight.”

You wanted to refuse, to run. But her eyes held yours, bright and inviting, a lifeline in the sudden chaos. A nod was all you could manage.

Her motorcycle was a sleek, vibrant machine, a contrast to Sohyun’s intimidating chrome. The ride was a blur of speed and forced focus, the city lights streaking past as you held onto her waist. She didn’t go to a garage. She pulled up to a modern high-rise, its glass façade glittering. “Home sweet home,” she said, killing the engine.

Her apartment was a surprise. Spacious, minimalist, luxurious. Soft, ambient lighting glowed from recessed shelves. It smelled of citrus and clean linen. It didn’t smell like a gang member’s den.

“Nice, right?” she grinned, kicking off her boots. “Perks of the life.” She turned to you, and the playful glint in her eyes shifted, deepened. The predator from the corridor was back, but here, in her territory, it was sharper, more focused. “You’re still wound up tight.”

Before you could answer, her hands were on your shoulders. She walked you backward, her strength effortless, until the backs of your knees hit the plush edge of a large platform bed. A small, surprised sound left your lips as you fell onto the duvet.

Kim Nakyoung stood over you, her athletic frame outlined by the low light. She unzipped her leather jacket slowly, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. Underneath, she wore a simple black tank top that clung to the curves of her breasts, the swell of her muscles. Her eyes gleamed.

“I’m gonna have so much fun today, Lil Pup,” she whispered, crawling onto the bed. She straddled your hips, her weight settling on you, pinning you not with cruelty, but with absolute certainty. “All that fear, all that tension… we’re gonna fuck it right out of you.”

Her hands planted on either side of your head. She lowered her face until her lips were a breath from yours. Her scent—sweat, speed, and something sweet—filled your senses. “You’re going to listen to me. You’re going to do what I say. And you’re going to fucking love it. Nod if you understand.”

You nodded, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“Good pup,” she purred.

Then her mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t tender. It was a claiming. Her lips were soft but insistent, parting yours with a confident swipe of her tongue. The kiss was deep from the first second, wet and searching. She tasted of mint and something wild. You gasped into her mouth, and she swallowed the sound, her tongue exploring you, mapping the inside of your lips, sliding against your own. It was a kiss that stole your breath, that dissolved the last of your resistance in a flood of sheer, shocking heat.

She pulled back only to dive in again, angling her head to go deeper. One of her hands left the mattress to fist in your hair, holding you still for her exploration. The other hand slid down your side, over your ribs, your stomach. A warm pulse, thick and urgent, stirred low in your belly, spreading outwards.

“Mmm, you taste good,” she mumbled against your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the frantic pulse in your throat. “All nervous and sweet.” Her teeth grazed your earlobe. “I’m going to make you taste like me.”

Her hands went to the hem of your shirt. “Arms up.” The command was casual, absolute. You obeyed. The cool air of the apartment hit your skin as she stripped the fabric away and tossed it aside. Her gaze raked over your chest, your stomach. Her palm, rough from handling grips and throttles, smoothed over your pectoral muscle, her thumb circling a nipple until it peaked under her touch. A jolt of sensation shot straight down to your groin.

“You’re gonna be so good for me, aren’t you?” she breathed, her mouth trailing down your neck, over your collarbone. Her tongue flicked against the other nipple, then she took it into her mouth, sucking firmly. You arched off the bed, a choked-off sound escaping you. She hummed in approval, the vibration buzzing through your nerve endings.

She released your nipple with a soft pop, her lips shining. Her hand drifted lower, over the tense plane of your abdomen, to the waistband of your jeans. Her fingers made quick work of the button, the zipper. The sound was obscenely loud.

“Lift your hips.”

Again, you obeyed. She peeled your jeans and briefs down your legs in one rough, efficient motion. The air was cool on your exposed skin, but the heat of her gaze was a brand. You were fully hard, aching, laid bare beneath her.

Nakyoung sat back on her heels, still straddling your thighs, and just looked. Her eyes darkened, that playful smile turning wicked. “Look at you. All for me.” She leaned forward, her tank top gaping, giving you a devastating view of her cleavage. She didn’t touch you with her hands. Instead, she lowered her mouth.

Her tongue, hot and flat, licked a long, slow stripe from the base of your cock to the tip. You cried out, your hips bucking involuntarily. She laughed, a low, thrilling sound, and wrapped her fingers around the base of your shaft, holding you still. “Uh-uh. You don’t move until I say you can move.” Her breath ghosted over the wet head. “This is my fuck to take.”

Then she took you into her mouth.

The heat was instantaneous, overwhelming. Her mouth was a silken, sucking furnace. She didn’t start slow. She took you deep, her throat working around you, her tongue pressing hard along the sensitive underside. Your vision whited out at the edges. Her head began to bob, a steady, ruthless rhythm, her other hand cupping and rolling your balls with a firm, knowing pressure.

“Fuck, Nakyoung—” you gasped.

She pulled off with a slick sound, her lips swollen and glistening. “You call me ‘Noona’ when I’m fucking your mouth,” she said, her voice husky. She didn’t wait for a reply. She dove back down, swallowing you whole again, her pace becoming frantic, hungry. The wet sounds, her soft grunts, the coil of pleasure tightening in your gut—it was too much. You were drowning in it.

Just as you felt the precipice approach, she pulled away again. A string of saliva connected her lips to your throbbing cock. She was breathing hard, her own arousal evident in the flush on her chest, the dark hunger in her eyes.

“Not yet,” she panted. “I’m not done with you.” She shifted her weight, moving up your body. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her own tight jeans and wriggled out of them, revealing simple black lace panties that were already damp at the center. She didn’t remove them. Instead, she settled her hips over yours, the soaked lace a maddening barrier against your naked skin.

She ground down on you, a slow, circular roll of her hips. The friction was exquisite torture. You could feel the heat of her through the fabric, the firm swell of her. Her eyes locked on yours as she rocked, a sheen of sweat making her skin glow.

“You want to be inside me, don’t you, Pup?” she whispered, leaning forward so her breasts pressed against your chest. Her mouth found your ear. “You want to fuck your way out of this debt? You want to bury that pretty cock in my pussy and make me forget my own name?”

“Yes,” you groaned, the word ripped from you.

“Then beg for it.”

Her words hung in the air, a delicious, impossible demand. You were lost in the scent of her, the feel of her damp lace grinding against you, the ghost of her mouth still tingling on your skin. You opened your mouth, a pathetic, whispered “please” barely forming.

Nakyoung’s smile turned sharp. She stopped her grinding, lifting her hips just enough to break that torturous contact. In one fluid motion, she swung her leg over you and stood beside the bed. She looked down at you, sprawled and aching, your cock standing stiff and desperate against your stomach.

“That’s not begging,” she said, her voice cool. She planted one foot firmly on the mattress beside your hip, then the other, stepping until she stood directly over you, straddling your chest. The black lace of her panties was a dark shadow above you. “You ruined my bike. You owe a debt. And you think a weak little ‘please’ earns you the right to fuck me?” She shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her face. “No. You need to apologize. Properly.”

She shifted her weight, bringing one foot down to rest squarely on your sternum. It wasn’t heavy, but the pressure was absolute, a physical anchor of her dominance. The sole of her foot was warm, slightly rough from riding barefoot in her boots. She wiggled her toes, the simple, casual gesture somehow more intimate than anything before.

“Lick it,” she commanded, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Clean my foot. Show me how sorry you are for fucking up my beautiful machine.”

The heat in your face was immediate. Humiliation warred with the thrumming need in your veins. Her gaze held yours, unblinking, waiting. The ache in your cock was a persistent, painful throb, a testament to how deeply her game had hooked you. You wanted her. And this was the price.

Slowly, you turned your head. You pressed a tentative kiss to the arch of her foot.

Nakyoung let out a soft, derisive laugh. “Tongue, Pup. I said lick. You want to cum in me? You gotta beg harder than that. Show me you mean it.”

A surge of something dark and eager broke through the shame. You opened your mouth and extended your tongue, swiping a broad, wet stripe from her heel to the ball of her foot. The taste was clean skin, a faint salt of sweat, utterly and completely her. The texture was a mix of smooth and rough. You did it again, more firmly, lapping at her sole, sucking her toes into your mouth one by one.

A low, approving hum vibrated from her. “Yes. Just like that. Good boy.” She pressed her foot more firmly against your mouth, encouraging you. You worshipped her foot with your tongue, your lips, losing yourself in the act of servitude. Each lick, each suck, felt like a key turning in a lock deep inside you, releasing a flood of submissive heat that pooled in your groin, making you impossibly harder.

“You love this, don’t you?” she breathed, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes. “Being my little footstool. My apologetic pup. Tell me you love it.”

You released her toe with a wet pop. “I love it, Noona,” you gasped, the title feeling foreign and perfect on your tongue.

“Louder.”

“I love it!” The words were ragged, torn from a place of pure, desperate wanting.

Finally, she stepped off of you, sliding down the bed until she was kneeling between your spread legs. Her fingers wrapped around your shaft, her grip tight, almost punishing. She leaned over you, her damp lace-covered mound hovering inches from your face. Her other hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head up.

“Now,” she whispered, her voice a dark promise, “you’re going to eat my pussy until I’m screaming. And you’re not going to stop for anything. You’re going to fucking drown in me. And when I’m good and ready, when I’ve come all over that pretty face of yours, then I’ll let you fuck me. Understood?”

You could only nod, your mouth already watering.

She didn’t wait. She lowered herself onto your face, guiding you with the hand in your hair. The soaked lace was the first thing you tasted, then, as she ground down, the hot, musky salt of her skin through the fabric. You licked, a frantic, broad stroke, and she moaned, a deep, guttural sound that went straight to your cock.

“Fuck yes,” she hissed, rocking her hips. “Rip them.”

You gripped the fragile lace with your teeth and tore. The sound of rending fabric was obscene. She lifted her hips, letting you pull the ruined garment away and toss it aside. Then she settled back, bare and dripping, directly onto your waiting mouth.

There was no finesse. It was a feast. You plunged your tongue into her, lapping at her opening, sucking her swollen folds, tracing frantic circles around her clit. She tasted intoxicating—sharp, sweet, and deeply female. Her moans became a continuous, breathy melody above you. Her thighs clamped around your head, the world narrowing to the scent and taste and feel of her pussy on your tongue.

“Right there—don’t you fucking stop—” Her hips bucked against your mouth. One of her hands left your hair to grip the headboard, her knuckles white. The other hand stayed fisted in your hair, riding your face, setting a brutal, demanding rhythm. “You’re gonna make Noona cum, Pup. You’re gonna swallow every fucking drop.”

You redoubled your efforts, fucking her with your tongue, flicking your tongue-tip against that tight, hard nub with relentless precision. Her breathing became ragged, sharp gasps. Her inner muscles fluttered against your tongue, a frantic, clenching pulse.

“Now!” she screamed, her body bowing as the orgasm ripped through her. A hot, sweet flood hit your tongue as she convulsed above you, her cries raw and unfiltered. You drank her down, licking and sucking through the waves until her movements slowed to weak, shuddering tremors.

She collapsed beside you, breathing hard, a sheen of sweat making her skin glow in the dim light. She turned her head, a lazy, sated smile on her face. Her hand snaked down between your legs, her fingers wrapping around your cock, which was leaking and painfully hard.

“You did so good,” she purred, stroking you slowly, her grip slick with her own arousal. “You earned this.” She shifted, moving to straddle your hips once more, but this time, there was no barrier. The head of your cock nudged against her soaked, swollen entrance. She held you there, teasing, letting you feel the impossible heat.

“Beg for it one more time,” she whispered, leaning close, her lips brushing yours. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“Please, Noona,” you groaned, your hips straining upward. “I want to fuck you. I need to be inside you. I want to feel your pussy squeeze my cock until I can’t think.”

Her eyes flashed with victory. “Then fucking take it.”

She sank down in one slow, devastating slide, sheathing you completely in her tight, wet heat. The sensation was blinding. You cried out, your hands flying to her hips, digging into her skin.

Nakyoung threw her head back, a long, low moan tearing from her throat. “God, you fill me up.” She began to move, rising and falling with a deep, grinding rhythm, taking you to the hilt with every drop. “This is what you wanted, right? To fuck your way into the Roses? Well, fuck me, then. Show me what my good Pup can do

A strange, floaty calm settled over you as you caught your breath. The world had narrowed to the taste of her, the feel of her weight, the fading tremors in your own limbs. Nakyoung shifted beside you, propping herself up on an elbow. She studied your face, then reached out and ruffled your hair, the gesture surprisingly casual.

“Not bad for a newbie, I guess,” she said, a grin playing on her lips. It was different from her earlier, predatory smiles. This one held a glint of genuine, amused appraisal. “You’re gonna be fun to break in.” She swung her legs off the bed, her naked body moving with easy grace. “Stay put. I need a drink.”

She padded to the sleek, minimalist kitchen and returned with two cold beer cans. She tossed one to you. The can was cold and slick in your hand, a shock against your overheated skin. You sat up, the sheet pooling at your waist, and cracked it open. The fizz was loud in the quiet room.

Nakyoung hopped back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged facing you. She took a long swig, her throat working. “So,” she began, her eyes scanning you. “You’re probably wondering what the hell you just signed up for.” She laughed, a light, unburdened sound. “Sohyun’s… intense. But she’s fair. In her own way.” She took another drink. “Me? I joined because it was the most exciting thing on offer. School was a snooze. My family wanted a quiet little office worker. Fuck that.” She gestured around the luxurious apartment with her can. “This is better. The speed, the control, the respect. The fun.”

You listened, sipping the bitter beer, the alcohol adding to the surreal haze. She talked about races through mountain passes, about the coded loyalty of the Roses, about the thrill of power that came with the leather vest. Her words painted a picture that was terrifying and magnetic all at once. And you were now stuck in the middle of it, your fate tied to the woman who was currently sitting naked, telling you stories like you were an old friend.

Then a sound cut through the easy atmosphere.

A knock. Firm. Authoritative. Three precise raps on the apartment door.

Nakyoung’s posture changed instantly. The relaxed slouch vanished. Her eyes, which had been warm and storytelling, went sharp, darting to the door. The playful energy was gone, replaced by a watchful tension. She set her beer down slowly.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. Her gaze snapped to you. “Get behind me. Now.”

The command brooked no argument. You scrambled off the bed, your heart, which had just begun to settle, launching into a frantic gallop again. You moved to crouch behind her where she sat on the edge of the mattress, the sheet the only cover for your nakedness. The air, moments ago warm and intimate, turned icy.

Nakyoung didn’t get up. She just called out, her voice carefully neutral. “It’s open.”

The door swung inward.

Park Sohyun filled the doorway. She wasn’t in full leathers, just tight black jeans and a simple black tank top that showed off the lean, powerful lines of her arms. Her dark hair was pulled back, severe. She stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the apartment with a cold, disinterested efficiency that missed nothing—the two beer cans, the discarded clothes on the floor, the rumpled sheets.

Then her eyes found you.

A slow, deliberate crack echoed in the quiet as she rolled her neck to one side. Then her knuckles. The sound was like breaking ice. Her expression didn’t change, but her dark eyes, when they locked onto yours, were utterly, terrifyingly focused.

“Nakyoung-ah,” Sohyun said, her voice a low, flat line. She didn’t look at her lieutenant. Her stare was pinned on you, a physical weight. “What the fuck is this kid doing here?”

Nakyoung stood up, putting herself more squarely between you and Sohyun. “Sohyun, listen. He was a mess after the corridor. I just brought him here to… calm him down. Explain things.”

“Explain things.” Sohyun repeated the words as if they were in a foreign language. She took a step forward. Then another. Her movements were liquid and lethal. “It looks like you explained things with your clothes off.” Her lip curled. “Did you two fuck each other’s brains out?”

The question hung in the air, brutal and direct. Your mouth was dry. You couldn’t lie, not under that gaze. A tiny, jerky nod was all you could manage.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Not from Sohyun.

From Nakyoung.

She spun, her hand a blur. The slap caught you across the cheek, sharp and stinging. Before you could even process the pain, her fist drove into your gut. The air exploded from your lungs in a sickening whoosh. You doubled over, gasping, the world tilting.

“Sohyun, stop!” Nakyoung shouted, stepping back, her hands up as if to ward off her leader. But she was looking at you, her eyes wide with a warning you couldn’t decipher.

Sohyun ignored her. She closed the final distance. Her hand shot out, not to hit you, but to grab a fistful of your hair. She yanked you upright, your scalp screaming, and slammed you back against the cool wall. She leaned in, her body not touching yours but caging you completely. Her scent—jasmine and cold night air—filled your nose.

“You’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that,” she murmured, her face inches from yours. Her breath was warm. Her eyes searched yours, looking for fear, for defiance, for anything she could use. “Thinking you could skip the service and pay your debt between my lieutenant’s legs?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Nakyoung insisted, her voice strained.

Sohyun finally glanced at her, a flicker of impatience. “Nakyoung-ah. We’re gangsters. Not some lovey-dovey couple playing house. We don’t romance our debts away.” Her gaze sliced back to you, hardening. “Especially not this guy. He wrecked your bike. Remember?”

Something shifted in Nakyoung’s face. The protectiveness bled away, replaced by a mask of cool indifference. She looked from Sohyun to you, and a slow, cruel smile touched her lips. It was a performance, but it was flawless.

“Who said anything about love?” Nakyoung scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her tone was dismissive, almost bored. “I was just using his cock, Sohyun. He was handy. And desperate. You should have seen him beg.” She laughed, a short, ugly sound. “It was pathetic.”

The words were a physical blow, sharper than her punch. You flinched.

Sohyun’s laughter filled the room. It was a rich, dark sound of genuine amusement. “Oh, is that so?” She looked back at you, her eyes sparkling with cruel delight. “You hear that, little mouse? You’re just a handy, desperate cock.” She shook her head, chuckling. “To think I was almost impressed.”

She released your hair, her hand coming up to cup your chin instead. Her thumb stroked your jawline, a mockery of her earlier touch in the corridor. The gesture was intimate, her touch almost gentle. Her face softened for a fraction of a second, her dark eyes holding yours. For a dizzying moment, you thought you saw something else there—not anger, but a deep, simmering curiosity.

Then her smile turned razor-sharp.

“But we don’t play favorites,” Sohyun whispered, her thumb pressing into the corner of your mouth. “And we don’t forget insults.”

Her other hand drew back, a tight, professional fist.

The last thing you saw was the cold calculation in her eyes, and the flicker of something that might have been regret on Nakyoung’s face, gone in a blink.

Then the world exploded into a supernova of white pain, and everything went black.

Consciousness returned in a throbbing wave of pain. Your jaw ached. Your stomach was a knot of bruised muscle. The cool floor pressed against your bare back. Before you could even open your eyes, a pressure settled on your face—firm, unyielding, and smelling sharply of leather and asphalt.

You blinked, vision blurry. Park Sohyun stood over you, one boot planted squarely on your cheek, grinding it into the polished concrete floor of Nakyoung’s apartment. Her expression was one of detached curiosity, like a scientist observing a pinned insect.

“Awake, little mouse?” Her voice was a silken threat. “Good. We were just getting started.”

You tried to twist your head away, to push her foot off. A muffled sound of protest bubbled in your throat.

Sohyun’s eyes darkened. She leaned her weight forward. The pressure became crushing, the hard edge of the boot’s sole digging into your cheekbone, forcing your face harder against the unyielding floor. A spike of panic shot through you. You brought your hands up, pushing weakly at her calf.

She didn’t budge. Instead, she pressed down harder, a slow, inexorable increase that made your skull feel like it might crack. “You don’t push me away,” she whispered, the words cold and precise. “You take what I give you. You swallow it.”

The humiliation burned hotter than the pain. You were naked, vulnerable, literally beneath her. Your resistance faltered, your hands dropping to the floor with a pathetic slap.

“That’s better,” she purred, the pressure easing just a fraction. She looked over your head. “Nakyoung-ah. Bring The Toy.”

From somewhere behind you, Nakyoung’s voice, bright and eager. “Yes, unnie!”

You heard the quick patter of bare feet, a closet door sliding open. Sohyun kept her boot on your face, her gaze holding yours, ensuring you felt every second of the wait. Nakyoung returned, kneeling just at the edge of your vision. In her hands were two simple, sinister objects: a black leather gag with a strap, and a thick, padded blindfold.

“Now,” Sohyun said, her voice dropping to a intimate murmur that vibrated through the sole of her boot. “You’re going to be a good boy, and submit.”

She lifted her foot.

The relief was instant, but short-lived. Before you could even take a full breath, her fist connected with your already-tender stomach. The air exploded from you in a ragged gasp, your body curling instinctively. In that moment of helpless contraction, she moved. Her knee pinned your shoulder to the floor. Strong, practiced hands forced the leather gag between your teeth. The taste was bitter, artificial. The strap pulled tight behind your head, buckling with a final, click that seemed to echo in the silent room. Your protests became muffled, animalistic grunts.

Then, darkness.

The blindfold settled over your eyes, the world vanishing into a void of plush black. Your other senses screamed to life. You heard Sohyun’s quiet breathing above you. You smelled her jasmine scent, now mixed with the cold sweat of your own fear. You felt the cool air on your skin, the hard floor beneath you, a terrifying vulnerability.

“Call the others,” Sohyun commanded, her voice moving away.

“On it!” Nakyoung chirped. You heard the faint taps of her phone screen, then her voice, slightly distant. “Hey. Get over here. Sohyun’s orders. Yeah, now. Bring your… you know, your vibe.”

A long, silent minute stretched. You lay there, blind and gagged, heart hammering against your ribs. You heard the rustle of clothing, the soft clink of a belt. Then Sohyun’s voice was close again, her breath warm against your ear.

“They’re coming,” she whispered. Her fingertip traced the line of your jaw, down your throat, over your collarbone. A touch so light it was worse than a blow. “Nien. Xinyu. The whole family. And you’re going to kneel for them. You’re going to be our little showpiece.” Her lips brushed your earlobe. “Does that scare you? It should.”

The apartment door opened. You stiffened. Two sets of footsteps entered, one light and precise, the other with a familiar, confident cadence.

“He’s already trussed up,” Nakyoung said, her voice cheerful. “Sohyun didn’t waste any time.”

“Efficient,” came a voice you recognized as Zhou Xinyu’s. It was cool, analytical, cutting through the thick air. “The gag is a practical choice. Reduces noise complaints.”

A new presence knelt beside you. Fingers, slender and chill, traced the strap of the blindfold. “The fit is good,” Nien said. Her voice was flat, devoid of the warmth you remembered from university lectures. It was all assessing stare, even if you couldn’t see it. “He’s shaking.”

“He’s excited,” Sohyun corrected, a smile in her voice. Her hand landed on your chest, palm flat over your pounding heart. “Feel that? That’s not just fear. That’s anticipation.” Her hand slid lower, over your stomach, making your muscles jump. “He likes being our thing. Our pet. Don’t you?”

You couldn’t speak. You could only breathe raggedly through your nose, the sound loud and desperate in the quiet room.

“Stand him up,” Sohyun said.

Hands gripped you—Nakyoung’s on one arm, Nien’s on the other. They hauled you to your feet. Your legs were wobbly, unsteady. The blindfold made you disoriented. You stood naked, gagged, and blind before four women whose moods you could only guess at.

Sohyun’s presence moved in front of you. Her fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your head up. “Kneel.”

You hesitated for a second. A sharp pinch on your inner arm from Nakyoung made you gasp into the gag. Your knees buckled, hitting the floor with a painful thud.

“Good,” Sohyun breathed. You felt her lean close. Her scent enveloped you. Then her lips found yours.

Or rather, she kissed the leather gag covering your mouth. It was a slow, deliberate press of her soft lips against the unyielding material. A kiss you couldn’t truly feel, only imagine. Her tongue darted out, tracing the seam where the gag met your skin. The intimacy of the gesture, the sheer perversion of it, sent a shocking bolt of heat straight to your groin. You whimpered.

She pulled back slightly. “He’s getting hard,” she announced to the room, a note of triumph in her voice. “Even like this. Pathetic.” Her hand curled in your hair, holding your head in place. “This is what you are now. A toy. A leash for us to pull when we’re bored.” Her other hand cupped your face, her thumb stroking your cheek with a mock tenderness. “And you’re going to learn to love it.”

You heard the shift of fabric, the slow, deliberate unzipping of jeans. Your breath hitched.

“Nakyoung,” Sohyun said, her voice taking on a new, husky note. “Come here. Show our new pet how we play.”

Her hand in your hair keeps you kneeling, facing forward into the dark. You hear the rustle of clothing, the shift of bodies around you. Then a touch, cool and precise, tilts your chin up.

“Open.” Zhou Xinyu’s voice is a clinical command, inches from your face.

Through the gag, you can’t. You make a muffled sound, confused.

You feel her slender fingers at the buckle behind your head. A click, and the pressure on your jaws releases. She pulls the leather gag from your mouth. You gasp, working your sore jaw, tasting fresh air tinged with her perfume—something clean and metallic, like ozone after a storm.

“Better,” she says. Her hand slides to the back of your neck, her grip firm and directing. “Now, open your mouth. Wide.”

You obey. A tremor runs through you, part fear, part something else entirely—a dark, eager thrumming in your blood. You feel her other hand guide something smooth and firm to your lips. Not skin. Silicone. The head of a strap-on.

“You will keep your mouth wet and open,” Xinyu instructs, her tone utterly devoid of heat, as if she’s explaining a technical manual. “You will not use your teeth. You will breathe through your nose. You will take it to the base. Your only function is to provide a warm, tight hole for my use. Understood?”

A weak, “Yes,” escapes your raw throat.

“Good.”

She doesn’t wait. She pushes forward.

The silicone head parts your lips, a blunt, unyielding pressure. It slides over your tongue, wider than you expected, stretching your mouth. You gag instinctively, your throat convulsing.

Xinyu pauses. “Relax your throat,” she says, not unkindly, just factual. “Swallow.”

You try. You force your muscles to loosen, you swallow around the intrusion, and she pushes deeper. It fills your mouth completely, a synthetic taste, then reaches the back of your throat. You breathe sharply through your nostrils, tears pricking at the corners of your blindfolded eyes. She holds there, letting you adjust to the sensation of being utterly filled, your jaw aching with the stretch.

Then she sets a rhythm.

Slow, at first. Withdrawing until just the tip rests on your tongue, then sliding back in, deep, hitting the back of your throat each time. Each thrust makes a wet, obscene sound in the quiet room. Your world narrows to the stretch of your lips, the press on your tongue, the choke-point in your throat that you must consciously relax for her.

“See?” Sohyun’s voice comes from somewhere to your right, a purr of satisfaction. “He’s a natural. Look how his throat works.”

Xinyu’s pace increases. The thrusts become more purposeful, a steady, pistoning rhythm. She uses her grip on your neck to guide your head, fucking your face with detached, efficient motions. Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and chest. The sounds grow louder—the slick slap of silicone, your ragged nasal breaths, Xinyu’s soft, controlled exhales with each push.

You’re painfully hard. The humiliation, the helplessness, the sheer physicality of being used this way coils that tight, hot wire in your gut even tighter.

Then, new hands on your hips. Warm, familiar. Nakyoung.

“My turn,” she chirps. You feel her kneel in front of you, her thighs brushing yours. She guides your cock, slick with your own arousal, to her entrance. She’s soaking wet. The heat of her is a shock against your sensitive head.

She sinks down in one smooth, devastating motion, swallowing you whole into a gripping, velvet-soft inferno. A ragged moan is torn from you, distorted around the silicone stretching your mouth.

“Oh fuck, yes,” Nakyoung sighs, rolling her hips, settling you deep inside her. “Keep fucking his face, Xinyu. Don’t stop.”

And so it begins.

Xinyu fucks your mouth with that relentless, mechanical precision. In, out. Deep, shallow. The rhythm is merciless, giving you no time to fully recover, keeping you on the edge of gagging, your throat fluttering around the fake cock. Tears soak the blindfold.

Beneath that, Nakyoung rides you. She sets a counter-rhythm, rising and falling on your shaft, her inner muscles clenching and milking you in waves. She grinds down on you, circling her hips, taking you so deep you feel her cervix nudge the head of your cock.

“You feel that, Pup?” she pants, her voice thick with pleasure. “That’s my pussy thanking you for being such a good little toy. Fuck, you’re thick.” She leans forward, her breasts pressing against your chest, her mouth finding your ear. “You’re just a fucking tool. A cock for me to ride and a mouth for Xinyu to fuck. Isn’t that perfect?”

You can’t answer. You can only take it. Sensation overwhelms you—the dual penetration, one claiming your mouth, one claiming your cock. The air fills with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of wet flesh and labored breathing.

“His responses are textbook,” Xinyu comments coolly, never breaking her stride. “Increased salivation, elevated heart rate, full erection maintained despite respiratory stress. Efficient.”

Sohyun laughs, a rich, dark sound of pure amusement. “Record everything, Nakyoung. Get his pretty, ruined face.”

“Already am, unnie!” Nakyoung’s voice is gleeful. You hear the faint electronic shutter sound of a phone camera, close by. The knowledge that this is being documented, that your debasement is being captured, sends another sick, thrilling jolt through you.

You’re a thing. A conduit for their pleasure. The realization doesn’t frighten you now; it unlocks something. Your hips jerk up to meet Nakyoung’s downward strokes. Your mouth suckles involuntarily on the silicone shaft, trying to take it deeper.

“He’s getting into it,” Nien’s flat voice observes from nearby. You’d almost forgotten her. “Look at his hands.”

Your fingers are curled into helpless fists on your thighs, trembling with the effort of not touching, not holding on.

“Good,” Sohyun says. Her voice is closer now. You feel her stand behind you. Her hands come to rest on your shoulders, her nails digging in just enough to brand you. “This is what you were made for. To serve. To be used.”

Xinyu’s thrusts become faster, harder. She’s chasing her own finish now, her breathing losing its perfect control, turning into sharp, rhythmic gasps. The fake cock rams into your throat, over and over. You take it, tears streaming, your own pleasure coiling to a breaking point inside Nakyoung’s incredible heat.

Nakyoung feels it. She leans back, bracing her hands on your thighs, and begins to fuck you in earnest, a hard, bouncing ride that slams your pelvis against hers. “You wanna cum, Pup?” she taunts, her voice breaking. “You wanna fill my pussy? Do it. Be a good toy and cum for your Noona.”

The permission, the command, is the final trigger.

Xinyu lets out a sharp, controlled cry, her hips stuttering against your face as she finds her release. The simultaneous clenching of Nakyoung around you, her own climax hitting with a guttural shout, pulls you over the edge.

Your own orgasm erupts, a blinding white current that seizes your spine and empties you into her in pulsing, helpless waves. You scream around the silicone filling your mouth, the sound a muted, desperate vibration.

For a moment, there is only the symphony of heavy breathing and the slick, wet sounds of connection.

Xinyu pulls the strap-on from your mouth with a soft, wet pop. You gasp, coughing, drool stringing from your lips to the floor.

Nakyoung slumps forward against you, her sweaty forehead resting on your shoulder, her body still lightly convulsing around your softening cock.

Sohyun’s hands massage your shoulders. “Perfect,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction. She leans down, her lips brushing your ear. “Now, let’s see how you handle Nien.”

You feel Nakyoung lift herself off you, leaving you empty and dripping. Cool air kisses your wet skin. A new presence, quiet and focused, moves in front of you. Nien’s fingers, tracing the line of your jaw.

“My turn,” she says, her voice a low, intent whisper. Before nien can continue however, a sudden knock was heard from the front door. Who was it? You thought to yourself as you steadies your breath.

"Who the fuck is knocking at Our door at 11 pm at night. Nakyoung check it out". Sohyun commanded. Her tone punchy and her mood were immediately broken with the sudden bothering of that special someone.

As nakyoung runs and opens the door. Suddenly "What the fuck. what are you Girls doing here..". Stomp, you heard a body dropping to the floor. As suddenly a lot of footsteps entered the room, Sohyun herself and the others were also shocked. To see their rival Gang. The Youngblood. Or 젊은 피 jeol-meun pi. Their leader, Jang Wonyoung.

"Well well well… What do we have here. Sohyun and her gang". Wonyoung stepped in the room, alongside her gang members, Choi Yena, Jo yuri and Kim Minju.

"What the fuck, are you girls having an orgy or something? ahahaha". Yuri chukled, seeing You tied up and gagged. "Who's this little fella".

Far away, Sohyun watches Nakyoung who were beaten very badly. "What the fuck did you do to Nakyoung, and what the hell do you girls want".

Wonyoung turned her gaze to Sohyun, as she stepped slowly. She then lift nakyoung up, as she said to Sohyun. "What do we want? Chukles One of your Members have entered our territory, and not only that. She has kidnapped one of our… let's say beloved treasure".

"Our members would never do that. We respect the oath".

"Well clearly one of yours didn't. And i have prove of that".

Wonyoung give a signal to Yena, as she scattered the photos of a Girl, who clearly wears a Jacket of the Iron Rose gang. In the photos, The Girl seemed to ruin one of the Youngbloods bases. And then, The treasure. A Man. Who's not older than you Probably. He was kidnapped, and haven't got back after that.

"The treasure is a man"? Xinyu wondered, with a weird expression on her face.

"Not just any man. He was our lover. Our property. Our Toy. With you ruining the oath and the pact. We can no longer play safe. We shall take what's yours, and start the bloody gang war all over again.. Starting with him".

"Him"? Sohyun asked confusingly.

"Hahaha, yes. I Guess you took this guy and uses him, but we don't care. It seems, your friend at the front door, was pretty interested in him. We saw the two leave together, so I guess she has this.. sorta connection for him. So we'll take him captive, until you give back our Treasure, and the girl who has causes harm. If not. Bloodbath shall pour from tomorrow and forwards".

[ov105]

Pineapple Cake

In what is more of a love letter to Vietnam than a straight-up smut, we have Nien in the lead. First time I tried adding an IRL picture to at least help myself a bit. I'm not gonna lie, I was missing the city more writing the first half, that's why it took so long. All vibes for this one.

We're going to another city next!

7,672 words of Nien. Enjoy!

Rain in Southeast Asia is nothing to scoff at. Particularly not when you’re informed to prepare to move for a company branch during said rainy season, worse, in short, a three-week notice. It brings an altogether sigh and a cold drink together, after which I would grab and wipe down my luggages and throw them open about two days before departing. It’s always an adventure, sure, and I look forward to the new person I will come out of the place. But it works altogether. However, I noticed another addition in the email order I received.

“Do not pass immigration until she has transferred from her Taipei flight. You must pass it together.” 

Her? They typically do not say names, as HR doesn’t know or care who. I also understood it was not to stir a raised eyebrow from the immigration officer. But yes, the pronoun made my head tilt. Having had a “his” to partner me during the few work trips, and often than not, I just kept it professional. It is usually someone with a better-ish grasp of the local language than I. However, I almost always grab the free two-week language program, which is a good excuse to do other things during company time. It makes the white lie of “easily learns new languages” in my resumé seem worthwhile.

I wasn’t so glum about it. I was looking forward to it even, despite some naughty suggestions from my colleagues, I was firm that it was just another work deployment. Though I cannot deny myself the power of my imagination. I was young and single, so the idea never really left me. The idea made me ponder once or twice in the weeks leading up to the day, all while having no real imagination of who I had to live with for the next few months, except that it was a she. Given that it was Da Nang I was to leave for, there was quite a bit on my mind, though I doubt the adjustment wouldn’t be too hard. I’ve done this before, so it can’t be that different, can it? 

In the meantime, I did what I could to get a clearer image of the place I would call home for a bit. I thought I had to grab a motorcycle if I wanted to go around on the weekends. However, I don't consider myself to be the most adventurous of people, but in a new country, I don't mind. I looked forward to sitting on a stool and eating whatever I picked; the good excuse of "I can jog this out tomorrow" always worked like a charm, and being used to greens helped.

Though that was all I did for the past three weeks. Now I'm a bit early at the airport, waiting outside a cafe, a large suitcase on one end, an empty plate and almost-finished mug on the table, and waiting on an empty chair while double-checking whether the documents I had were correct. Though I was just watching something on my phone when I got the message that she had arrived. Let's see if I was lucky, but now I just need to be professional. It did not take long before a tall lady, quite serious, searching, about five-foot-six, could tell from a glance she was Taiwanese, probably because she wasn't so pale. I thought maybe that was her. Then she saw me, looked at her phone, and walked towards me. Yep, that's her. 

I stood up to meet her. A firm handshake but a carefree smile. Good impressions all around, she seemed very fun to be around, happy-go-lucky, as said. It was pretty easy to crack the ice, warming up to each other easily, as she had been my counterpart in the Taipei office for some time now. We were now the "traveling circus," since they had shifted from sending uninterested middle-aged executives a while ago. Yet her name was one of the things I asked first, so I have one: Hsu Nien Tzu. 

I remember asking her one thing before standing up: if she could speak the language. I was not about to start a bad demonstration. 

"I'm half-Vietnamese," Nien replied, "we're gonna be fine."

Save for the passing score I got when it came to comprehension, I was glad. Alright, this was going to be better than I had hoped. So we followed another set of orders: pass by immigration, eat, and wait for our flight to leave after sunset. I was constantly reminded that I needed to speak up more to my trip partners, so I decided to keep the conversation as natural as possible. Talking to Nien over dinner gave that, sharing an early phở before we left. It made me wonder why I didn't decide to set out and look for who I was going with on the trip. On trips before, I got my answer at least a week before we departed. Maybe I was too busy, or perhaps some part of me liked that anticipation, the waiting, yet it's not like I exclusively work with men, so what gives? 

Maybe I’ve probably gotten too used to the scheduling. This was also my longest deployment so far, so there was probably more off time between us. I always make it a point not to make it too personal, but I value the companionship I get. 

We passed the time that way, and before long, we were number two for takeoff on a rainy evening. It took a bit of both waiting and a little turbulence, with a loud turbofan roar and water flying by the window as we left the city. I saw it disappear behind the clouds; thick clouds only meant rain, and pretty much another goodbye. I hoped the rain wouldn’t follow us there as the plane settled into its climb, so I whispered it to Nien too; she was already, understandably, half-asleep, and she agreed. We were heading to a coastal city after all, and I knew it would be sooner or later. I just about remembered the slight pull of settling into cruising altitude as I dozed off, unable to put my book back and it on the tray table.

We were being told to put the tray tables up when we woke. I look outside and see spotlights on the water, equally spaced apart. The next thing my eyes saw was a mass of lights in a line, some were moving, but most were static; the unmistakable coastline, and a temporary new life. Our little residence should be across what seems to be the river, a little company present that overlooked the estuary. I could feel Nien was looking over, too. 

“Fishing boats.” I blurted without question. 

“Hm?” Nien sounded off. I asked, letting my thoughts known, “wanna grab something when we land?” 

She just nodded. 

That’s what we did. Getting our bags and getting into a company car took less than fifteen minutes. A junior representative welcomed us and discussed what to expect in our new residence. Trying not to space out and just look out the window, one moment we were at a stoplight with just a bit too many motorcycles, the next, we were on a bridge, a pretty well-lit one at that, glancing to see the many skyscrapers before looking back and trying to read the paper in the dark. We were told to split tasks for tomorrow as we needed to show up by Monday. I agreed that I was the one getting the long license conversion pipeline. 

Unpacking our things, I gave a generous, well, a little too generous, tip to our welcoming party. It was a small third-floor accommodation, with a nice river view as I walked out onto the small balcony, with a row of sellers a few walks to the right. I remembered what I told her two hours ago on the plane. I turned around to see Nien had changed into more comfortable clothes, nothing unusual. She seemed to fit right in, and I did my part by changing into sandals. Our conversation took off where it was at the airport, no work yet, that was tomorrow’s problem, ending our first night with a celebratory beer and two bowls of noodles. I think it was Mì Quảng. 

The next day came as it did, and we started working as the weekend passed. It only took about a week, and adding a few more, coupled with plastic bags of beer, or enjoying the long lunch breaks, to really get on their best graces. Before we knew it, we were almost halfway through our stay. They remarked from the first few days that they liked having someone closer to their age to mess around with. I also did, and having a roommate that the guys liked flirting with was fun to watch. It never crossed my mind to look at her differently, visually or personally—though I did understand why people wanted to flirt with her—perhaps keeping myself down, shifting into the college-age rhetoric of never getting involved with your colleagues. Even if we shared the same room, we had to run errands together sometimes. However, Nien did bring up a throwaway line when we were sharing a drink on the balcony once.

Nien asked, "You mentioned I'm the first girl you went on a visiting trip with?"

I replied, "Yeah, it was always men before that."

"Mine too. So you're my first guy partner." Nien answered, adding, "It's quite relaxing."

"And why's that?"

She replied, "You're not a bother," then paused again.

"If anything, I kind of forget we've been together for like, six weeks now."

I paused too, mid-sip, putting the glass away from my lips and corrected her, "Together in Da Nang, you mean."

Nien chuckled, taking it in stride, "Yeah, together in Da Nang," before taking a swig of her glass, which had already made her fingers cold and wet. She had held on to it for a bit too long. 

We left it at that. A slight brush at the line. It was like that until we got to Huế.

The monsoon season came as I had predicted. Switching out the sticky, humid heat of mainland Southeast Asia for the torrential rain of its archipelagic neighbors. Save for the second morning, when we were able to tour a bit of the citadel and some of the city. We shared mugs of coffee when the heat got too much for us, which, by this point, was the bitterness we'd gotten used to. Now every other coffee will taste diluted. The rest of our week was forecasted to be just a gloomy morning, followed by an afternoon downpour, and evening rain, all in that order. I looked across the river, our cheap local hotel barely had a view over the river and to the citadel. I wondered to myself, "Just getting across that moat would've sucked." 

Our actual reason for being in the older city was far outside the center. A site visit, about an hour or so via a rented motorcycle, amounted to us arriving at a small roadside site. Nien and I were just being toured around and gave pretty faces, maybe interviewing some folks, but all in a day's work; show up, play nice, lead them along, write the report the evening before we get on the bus Saturday morning. We arrived and finished early in the afternoon, which was unexpectedly sunny for that day, both much to our surprise. Changing into more comfortable, warm-weather clothes, we thought the same thing—there was enough time to kill. 

It was a fine tour of the citadel, again this time with less time to beat, for ourselves. Perhaps the aspect of sightseeing while breaking a bit of a sweat endeared itself to Nien. Linking onto my arm as we walked to the lesser sights inside the walls, I didn't question it this time. Though maybe, earlier in our stay, I would've. It just never crossed my mind at this point to ask why she's doing it. Perhaps she could just do it because we weren't in our usual city, and I rolled with it. I asked, albeit a bit forcefully, when she pushed me to stand, pose, and take some pictures.

"I'm getting envious of everybody else here." 

Hmm. Doesn't sound half bad, but it does sound like an excuse from Nien. To be fair, a more homebody like me became just a bit more adventurous because of her, even after we settled for our stay. Sooner, I told her that it might rain a little later, the grey clouds slowly swamping out the sunlight as we kept walking. We did have a foldable umbrella, but having seen it bent before, I didn't want to trust it if the wind blew. She argued that we could just keep taking our time, though, adding her point that there was more to explore beyond the moat. 

Though the grey clouds, heavy as they were, rolled in faster than we anticipated. We were in a garden and managed to walk, almost into a jog, towards a pavilion as the raindrops began to fall heavily on us. When we got under the roof, it was dark. Nien and I caught ourselves for a moment before I started to notice the old wood, and I looked around. There was nobody else there. 

“Well, let’s wait,” I said, looking out to the garden. The wind was coming in now. 

I moved inside, adjusting my eyes from the hallway to see a sizable, but empty interior, almost cavernous because the roof was the ceiling itself. If we had run the other way, we would’ve ended up at a cafe. But we were here. Nien was on a bench, the second of three, scrolling on her phone. 

“Internet’s pretty slow,” Nien remarked when I sat beside her.  

I was about to space out, between staring at the interior and my phone, I considered just standing and walking around. The network is slow, as she said. Then Nien blurted out of the blue. 

“Sometimes I wonder why you don’t ask me out?”

I heard her. I froze a bit, though it hit like an M79—thump! 

“Hm?” I knew I would stutter as I met her stare. Though flatly, maybe firmly, I replied, “We’re workmates.” 

That was just me trying to run for cover. Nien was a wily woman.

“And single.” Nien butted in. The free spirit had me cornered. Another one, thump!

I turned to look at her, possibly overreacting, “I sure hope you’re not asking for casual.” 

“You know,” Nien grabbed my hand, squeezing it, “I have a visa,” her palm was sweating, “And you’re just an hour away.” 

“I know, but I just hope you don’t have any silly surprises from Taipei.” I wasn’t willing to be a third party.

"How about you're my "silly" surprise then?" Nien replied. I was tense, but sneaked out a smile, mirroring her. I asked, "Hard to hold one down with our work, no?" 

"Yeah, sounds nice sometimes..," I continued, "to settle." At the risk of sounding like a formal email. I couldn't think of saying anything else, really. Nien had other ideas besides just staring at me. Her gaze was on my lips. I was thinking about it, but she beat me to the chase again. I could only think; Please, don't just be another passing mirage. Yet she was a bold woman—asking for my commitment—there was no “no,” as her eyes locked onto me.

"Is that a yes or no?"

Responding with "maybe" was going to throw everything off. I did not doubt Nien, yet my doubt always forecasted itself when I needed it the least. It took me about a second to really gather my thoughts. This felt like the fucking interview again! I needed to think quickly. Nien was anything but bad. Whatever quirk I had thought of before, I forgot now, and in my recent attempts back home, they were all pale and shallow compared to where we were. It was half a calculation and boyish arrogance, and a matter of time before we reached this point. She got her reply. 

A smile came from Nien, her mouth still closed, "I knew you'd say that." 

Nien then held tighter, clasping over my palm, and shifted a bit closer. She was nervous. Her stare remained on my lips. We both took a breath, shut our eyes, and leaned into one another. It was no more than a smack, just two touches of our lips. It was juvenile in execution, both of us leaning in from a little too far. That's how I knew it'd been a long time coming for her, too. I leaned away from Nien, and she giggled a bit as I noticed she had already blushed red. 

Nien turned to face me, then came in for another. The rain was falling a little harder now. Our hands rose, hers resting on my shoulder, mine on her neck as our lips came together again. She took the lead this time and pushed slightly forward. Lightly tugging at her neck, I pushed back. A smooch rang out, and for a second, somebody giggled. I was trying to remember how to do it right, immediately snapping out of my head when her lips pushed against me, another smooch rang out. My other hand let go of hers, tugging at her pants as it glided up her right leg. I could not recall when tongues started getting involved, nor when I began to leave soft kisses on her neck. I made sure there were no hickeys. Yet once I found Nien’s lips again, we were noticeably getting more handsy, as mine was high up her skirt, while hers rested between my thighs. It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two of us just making out, and just as I grabbed her ass a little,  breathlessly, she said.

“Hey,” tapping my chest, “Don’t get too playful.”

“I’m just listening to you.”

Nien just chuckled. Giving me another peck before we continued. She wasn’t stopping me at all. The rain was only falling harder now—time was almost up—and I needed to be bolder. Gently setting her on the bench, she must’ve known I was going to do something else. Pulling away just to see me dive to her neck again, though at the last second before I shut my eyes, hers looked downward. Giving her neck a few light kisses, moving often so as not to leave hickeys. My fingers were pulling on her drawstring, cradling her neck as my other arm meddled with the hem of her pants, sliding my fingers to her panties, but not into them. Letting out her first moan, weak, restrained, more of a hard breath, as my fingers pressed down on the warmest spot I could find. Beginning to draw in circles over the soft fabric as her breath hitched, she grabbed my arm as I moved faster. 

I giggled to myself as Nien’s breath hitched again, turning into an actual, audible, but still weak moan this time. Though the grip of her fingers tightened, I wasn’t even going any faster. She became more tense, stirring, shallow breaths, her chest rising outward as she rang herself out more and more. She was getting wetter, and I could only imagine what she looked like, as I was just listening to her. Though of course, we couldn’t do anything more, perhaps some sort of shame came over us when she said,

“Stop.” 

I did. Then I heard it, the rain was weaker now. 

“We can’t do that here.”

I agreed, never intending to go all the way. Pulling my fingers out and letting her fix her string. Though what we did, a half-assed confession, an exchange of lips, under a reconstructed garden pavilion, in a former palace, during the middle of a monsoon shower, was something I was never ready for. 

“You know, it would be hard to run outside if we get caught.”

She said, and was correct. Standing up like nothing happened, though visibly, she still looked a bit red. Almost surprised that we just did that. I stood up too and looked through the doorway, hoping not to catch a glimpse of anybody. I slung my bag around myself and took a sip. I needed to at least say something so as not to abruptly kill the tension. 

“We could continue this at the hotel.” 

Nien walked forward to kiss me, “I like that.”

I kissed her back. We just have to pretend nothing happened for now. Act cool, I thought, she must’ve too as she tapped on my shoulder, noticing I was a bit nervous. That ought to calm me down a bit, and I was less jittery by the time we were back out on the streets, seeing other visitors again. We hope nobody saw us. 

Though for a time, as the sun slowly began to set over the horizon, we were able to see more courtyards and another garden. The sunlight peeped through, as if it only rained to give us that little tussle. Maybe, it winked at us for it. We almost forgot our little episode with just how large exploring the citadel complex was. Nien and I were able to hide behind ourselves the fact that we had just done something so risqué, at a place considered so regal. She was back to her usual self, smiling for her camera as always. However, she was tugging me closer now, letting my arm feel her chest so often when she'd look over for photos. I jokingly had to tell her to quit it, and she just smirked at me.

The golden sunset had already broken through the scattered greys when Nien and I hopped on our motorcycle and, not being the most skilled rider, just waited in traffic. I was sort of hungry, though a snack from a roadside stall before we left seemed to quell it, but I knew a late dinner was due. Nien was hugging me from behind, pressing herself—again—on my back. I was doing everything to not get hard in public.

"You feel it?" Nien asked, giggling.

"Yes," I replied. 

Nien seemed to say something as the light turned green. So the only thing I heard was, beyond other vehicles on the road, and I revved the motorcycle, was myself going, "Huh?!" 

By the time we turned onto our street. It was a quieter part of town that allowed me a glance upward for a second. The sky had turned a deep grey, and Nien and I were close to the hotel. I was doing my damndest to turn my nervousness around. I heard that imagining yourself succeeding, rather than just scaring yourself with nervousness, helps. It did. Yet, trying to ignore the boner forming in my pants, her hands wrapped around me, all the way to the moment I shut the motor off, wasn't helping. 

Proceeding up to our room, the only person that bothered was the desk clerk. Finding ourselves proceeding down the same hallway as earlier, yet both of us seemed to be rushing towards our room. I fumbled the keys. Yes, keys, hurriedly picking them up. The jiggling nearly drove me mad because the lock decided to stiffen up just when we were going to get some. Almost barging inside, we threw our things onto the table, just enough time to switch the doorway light. We can't wait for the AC to cool, and we're next on the line.

Nien then put her hands on me just as she had earlier. Only taking a glance at my lips before leaning into them, meeting her halfway, with her reaching over my shoulders and grabbing my back and nape. I pulled her closer by her waist. Skipping from the shy kisses of earlier, our tongues and lips smacking almost as soon as we started. We weren’t going to get much standing up, though. 

Facing Nien to the bed, I continued where I had already been earlier. Planting my lips downward on her neck, sucking harder the lower I went. As I got to the top of her chest, her breath hitched, knees buckling a bit at how suddenly I ramped things up. Carefully, I placed her down, not letting go of her neck for a second, though her slight bounce off the mattress took me away from her collarbone. I got myself back on her lips as she slowly slid herself further up, hovering over her. Now, more comfortably, I looked at her for a moment, lying down, expectant, vulnerable, waiting, on the second bed. My bed. She must’ve seen how nervous I was with the huff I let out, to which she asked. 

“Take your time, what’s the rush?” 

I just smiled back at Nien. She was rhetorical, through her eyes gazed downward. I answered with a deep kiss and went where her eyes were. Now I was truly hopping off where I was earlier, I slid my hands under her bra as I kissed her exposed chest. Catching on, her hands raised her shirt over her shoulders, and off her. Now, in her bra, it was wireless from the look of it, and easier to remove. She arched her back, but I stopped her from doing it herself, a series of kisses on her tits as my hands pushed her tits, petite, but soft, onto my face. Tick!  

Getting Nien’s bra off her, the next sound it made was it being thrown against the wall. Not even giving her time to turn her head back to me as I took a nipple in my mouth, sucking hard. Perhaps a little too excitedly. Hearing her grimace, yet pushing her chest onto my face, I let go of her tit with a pop. Looking up to see her looking down too.

“Don’t stop that.” 

I was about to give a boyish smile. In my head, at least. Following her, I clamped on her other nipple, circling my tongue around the small bud while looking up to see her shut her eyes, letting out a long exhale. My hand glided over her body, feeling her shift her hip to let my hand slide in between her legs, sliding my fingers over her panties. She was turning hot, but that warm spot on my fingertips told me everything. Looking at me again, I kept my eyes on her as I slipped my fingers under her pants again, pressing harder where I did earlier. Her brows furrowed, letting out an uncaged moan while her whole body rose up to me as I dug my fingers in. Sliding my fingers over a few times kept making her squirm, then I began tracing my lips downward to her toned tummy, then below that as my fingers slipped to the slide and from her back. Pulling down her pants, it seemed that Nien was more in a hurry to get it off than I was, having me stand as it lay on the floor. I hurried and stripped down, now we were naked. 

Nien rose up to meet my lips while her hand grabbed at my cock. I was surprised at the sensation, her squeezing almost making me back off out of juvenile instinct—much like herself—it really had been a minute for us. It was semi-erect, stroking slowly, as we shared our tongues again. 

“Haven’t seen one in a while,” she said with a slight giggle. I did too with a hand on her tit, “Me too.”

Slowly pushing her down, I kneeled and retraced where my lips had gone. Though with her pants out of the way, we both knew what I was going to do next. Holding her legs open, I slid my tongue up her thigh, though going down, the closer I got to her pussy, I began to suck at her skin. From a glance, her folds looked dry, but my fingers weren’t lying, they were beckoning me, and I obliged. A moan was building up as I licked around her folds, slowly making my tongue paint, and let her feel my saliva as I prepared. It was a feint. A sharp gasp left her as the sucking on her clit began, lapping up at the hood and teasing my tongue in her hole. I was famished and a bit showy, but was it all just for Nien? Absolutely. 

Watching, with my fingers holding her legs open, let me feel her relax, then tense up, torso rising with just an upward swipe gave that shot of confidence I missed. Capturing her folds with my lips, the salty taste filling my imagination as I shut my eyes and just let what I knew how to do, let do. Focusing only on how my mouth slowly moved, hungered, and ate away at her. An arm reaching downward to grab me, only lightly, at my head. Listening, and feeling, hearing her low, buzzing moans would rise to gasps, and beg for just a little more. Even an instance where she slipped into Mandarin when I hit a good nerve with my tongue, even covering her mouth as Nien thought herself getting too loud, trying to hide her head sideways into the pillow. 

Holding onto a leg, I took a hand, and, timing my tongue with her clit, slowly pushed a finger inside as she shifted again. Nien groaned as her own hips helped slip my only finger inside. Curling it, her tightness immediately made itself felt as her warmth wrapped around, while I pushed and pressed with my finger. I couldn’t tell if it was my tongue or fingers that worked, as a gasp, her fingers gripping the bed, and a breathy cry told me I had found my mark. So, I pushed, following with a second finger that made her squirm more, her moans now only second to the slobbering between her legs. 

Then, Nien began to fall silent, though the same expression, now contorted—holding herself back—yet her body wasn’t lying. Her fingers grip on my hair slowly tightened as I licked and prodded away at her. My fingers almost found it hard to move as the inevitable came knocking. Her tightness made moving difficult, all the more with her twitching and shifting. Yet, she continued to roll her hips, as if she were riding on my fingers and leading herself on. Faster now. A messy dance on the mattress as she seemed more into it than I did, and with how she was grabbing my hair, I was to have my proof soon enough.

A short, breathy, unintelligible string of words left Nien. Then she cried out, sank her head onto the pillow, arched her back, and closed her legs. She came, and came faster than either of us must’ve thought. Looking up, the expression on her face read a mix of surprise and pleasure, but also of a strange relief, relishing that moment of release. Her mouth hanging open, weak moans leaving her while her eyebrows furrowed, rolling and lightly shaking as she let her body talk for itself. She waited for this. Her orgasm almost came in waves, shuddering for nearly a minute before, suddenly, she just plopped down, completely melted, her chest rising and falling, taking deep breaths as she looked like she was about to sleep. 

“You okay?”

That was the first thing spoken in a while. 

Nien, while still flushed, tried to sit up, but I was first. Getting back on the bed, my cock was now erect and needed to be inside her, fast. Through some sleight of hand, I was slowly stroking myself too as I listened to her. I pushed her down, and just smirked at me with her legs open—no problems—and after I took another smack of her nipple, put her arms over my shoulders. 

Curious, I asked her how I did.

“Better than what I could do,” Nien answered. Having not wiped my lips, she beckoned me to kiss her, though not without sucking the two fingers that helped her cum just then. That ought to clean and taste herself. Reaching my arm down, I slipped my hand under her knee and pushed her leg open, her left foot high up in the air, the right over my back. My hand grabbed hers, holding tight and staring at me hard. We knew what was next. I glanced down and lined myself up, planted my knees, and slid in. Both of us moaned as my hips, only on instinct, told me to just push. Halfway inside, I stopped, letting myself feel her tightness, then Nien interrupted.

“Keep going.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. So I did. Holding my breath as I moved my hips, I watched her bite her lip, keeping her gaze as I thrust all the way inside Nien. Letting out sighs as I filled her, relaxing myself, as I slid back and began to move. A renewed but also arrogant vigor came to me as I paced myself, enjoying watching her take me. She watched for a second before one thrust hit her, shutting her eyes as I thrusted deep. Not too fast now, not too fast. Burying her head on the pillow as she tried to get a hold of herself, getting over the short, passing tinge of pain of her first time in a while, and me trying to make that while last. She wanted this, and our pieces were in play now.

Getting at a pace, I found myself moaning along with Nien. Sometimes, I shut my eyes as I dove down to kiss her neck, just to feel how my cock split and felt her pussy contract. When I would see her, the way her body moved, pinned, shivering, and nipples fully erect, a light sheen of sweat already making itself seen. Even with her eyes closed, her fingers unchanged in their tight grip, she let herself feel all of it. In the few shared glances, she looked on, satisfied. My face probably told her that too, tapping me on the cheek and flashing a shy smile before snapping back with a thrust. If I had told myself a few months ago that I would fuck my foreign work visit partner, I wouldn’t believe it, and neither would she.

Straightening myself, I pull Nien’s legs along and hold her at her hip. Picking my pace up a bit, I could feel myself throbbing, while trying to ignore how quickly that building weight of my orgasm rang into my head. Her grip on my wrists tightened and arched her back at the new tempo, her slight movements just a little more pronounced. Giving herself up as she let go and just grabbed wherever onto the sheets—yet it was too overwhelming—from the wet sound of contact, the sensation of her walls choking me, sliding by raw. Trying to focus on her, or even thinking of work, hell, counting numbers even, was useless. That made me cut my run short, barely pulling myself out of her in time. Catching my breath, the whole effort made it look like I finished a little early.

“You came?”

I shook my head, trying to force myself to relax while my cock, undeniably wet even in the poor light, twitched. Nien then switched the lamp on, seeing it better for herself as she sat across from me, the tip had turned red from how close I was. 

“You?” I asked back.

“I think I did,” she said with a slight giggle, trailing off with, “maybe a few.” 

Though now, Nien had her chance. As I waited, she did too. Knowing that she wanted to blow me earlier, I decided to just sit there, my legs wide open, cock hanging in the air, and she took the bait. Kneeling, her hand wrapped around my base and her lips, looking plumpier than I bothered to, just inches away from the tip. Glancing up at me, she met me looking down, anticipating the first blow I’ve had in a while. Sticking her tongue out, she seemed unsure and kept her gaze at me, slowly licking along the shaft from where her hand was up. Licking her lips, she opened and slowly sank herself downward. I was bracing that she’d be reckless, but she was careful, a rather shy blow rather than a gaudy one. Her lips wrapped around my cock as her neck bobbed at that pace, her glancing so often as if waiting for a thumbs-up from me. The single “fuck,” I breathily uttered, gave me away. 

Releasing me with a pop, Nien stroked it twice before she rose up. She then told me to just.

“Stay there.”

Straddling me, Nien lay her hands on her shoulder, straightened herself, and with a deep kiss, sat down on my cock. Grabbing her ass and squeezing, as an arm of hers pressed down on my leg, trying to stop me from slipping all the way in. She wanted the pleasure of riding it down her way. Breaking away just to let out a moan as she sprang back up, going deeper every time she came down, moaning at every inch. Then she began to roll her hips, which seemed to get her more tense and hot. Now she had found the perfect motion to ride me in. Moaning more freely now as I let go of her lips and put mine on her neck, slowly kissing at it as the tightest sensation on my cock signaled where her spot was, shuddering as she forced herself to keep steady. At times, it sounded like she was forcing herself a bit, straining to keep herself going, not going any faster, but just enough to enjoy herself. It wasn’t even long before she started to mount me. I knew her stamina was high, yet maybe we had overestimated ourselves. 

“Are you usually this shaky?” 

“Not really. I’ve been only using my fingers,” Nien replied.

“Oh?” Maybe my short reply said the quiet part a bit too loud.

“You don’t believe me?” Nien almost stopped and was just about to mope. Her expression was a 180 from a few seconds ago. 

“I do,” I must’ve been too blunt, and said an actual truth, “we’re always outside together.” 

Nien smiled. Phew. Then whispered something out of the blue. It wasn’t out of character for an extrovert, “Not even my toys are close to yours.”

I must’ve smiled too, because she gave it back, leaning her neck down and kissing me as she continued to ride. I was getting all the attention she could give, and I was bashful about it still. I tried my luck again.

“You seem a little tired already.” 

Nien was much sweatier now than when I first noticed. She tried to brush it off, but it was just a ruse. I began thrusting upward. Her other arm swung onto my shoulder as I took over again, both of us moving, pushing with our bodies only to meet halfway. Biting down hard on my tongue as I kept fucking her from below. It didn’t take long before she shot me a look of shock and disbelief, pulling me towards her as she kept moving. The telling twitching of an orgasm surprised both of us, groaning as she rode her own orgasm out. I was desperate to not follow, relaxing my lower half, in contrast to her twitching and squeezing. At the same time, my lips were planted on her chest, sucking away. Forget not leaving hickeys now. Then, just as quickly, she stopped, huffing. I considered myself lucky this time. Pushing her forward a bit so I can suck on her tits while thinking of what to do next. 

Then I remembered what I saw once when she wore a backless dress for a function.

“Turn around,” I told Nien. Getting off me, she did as such. Giving me a view of the ass I’d been gripping at since the afternoon. Turning her head to look at me as I slid myself inside, bucking my hips the moment I got past the tighter ring of flesh, huffing as the feeling, the sheer tightness of it, as I went deeper always caught me off guard. Grabbing her wrist, I pinned it down to her back as I began to move, her face dropping almost instantly into the mattress as the first thrust hit. Pulling from her hip, I dug in. 

Nien’s muffled moans filled the air. Her back muscles showed while I had my show of athleticism. Abruptly cutting my pace, I watched the length of my cock disappear in and out of her, slipping carelessly with her wetness aiding. That small, but willing resistance of her flesh overcomes my hips, while she groaned and squeezed me from below. Then, through the sound of our sex slapping together, the familiar, sinking weight that I had held back earlier began to rear itself again. Feeling more sensitive, I was twitching, faking out was a kamikaze’s errand. Not wanting to waste such a pretty face, I pulled her upwards, not knowing it would only leave my cock in such a spot that left it lodged deep. Greeting me with a kiss, she could probably tell I was barely holding on, so Nien asked.

“Are you close?”

I answered. Of course I was. Placing her lips on mine, Nien began to move. A reversal of our roles earlier, now she was fucking herself on my cock. I groaned even if my tongue was in her mouth, my hand traveling up her torso, the other, with her wrist guiding it, came up to her neck. Leaning forward, I pulled her closer to me, face to face, feeling our breaths coming right on our skin as we stared each other down. She knew I was ticking, her hips becoming all the more unbearable as I was close to no return. 

“You want me to pull out?” I asked Nien. Her face went neutral.

“No,” she replied, kissing me, “You can pull out another time.”

Sounds like we’re not done with one. An exchange of tongues ensued. Seizing my chance, I pinned her down prone. Getting a moan out of her, we shared a moment before snapping back into it. With her ass up, Nien continued to move, now set on making me cum inside her. I did too, fighting back with my own hips as I pushed as deep as I could, her arm reaching backward to my head as her moans continued to rise. Letting our lips go to a cuss for a second, only to return much bolder, sloppier as I picked up my pace. She had completely stopped by this point. I was fucking her as hard as it would allow me. 

Taking my lips off Nien’s, I could feel myself at my orgasm’s door, with my cock as the ram. She was loud, yelling and shrieking, and we shared the same chorus in the room. I was the quieter one, grunting and moaning on my own, while she was begging for me to keep fucking her. It seemed she was going too. Trying to keep herself steady as that same stirring and twitching, her hands were gripped hard onto the sheets. All of that only drove my cock at its deepest into her. I couldn’t even tell her, but we knew. Then we came—Nien was first, and I followed—letting out a gasp, pushing myself as deep as I could, as she threw her head back, missing mine as I groaned, before moving my lips to the back of her ear. My cock, having been denied itself a few times before, now relented, flooding her as it squeezed its own load out. Like her, it took me longer than usual to ride my orgasm down. Yet our lips never broke once. 

We were tired. Huffing as I spilled onto the bed, while Nien pulled herself away, I grabbed the tissues at the nightstand for her. Given how sweaty we were, it was wise not to crash and lie on the mattress. We both just sat on the edge as I caught my breath, leaning her head onto me. It was a mirror of what we did at the citadel. Now, it was her turn to say the quiet part out loud. 

"That was," she paused, "intense."

I agreed. Both of us tried to compliment each other. Nien took it in stride, smiling at me. Finally, that smile again. Meanwhile, I remained shy about it, telling her I must've been lucky making her cum that much. She confided she was also surprised about that. She did her best to make me accept it, putting her foot down with a somewhat cryptic statement.

"That only means you're good to me." 

Perhaps I was dense to understand. Nien knew it. 

"You figured me out quickly," she said, leaning over to kiss me, "You can't do that if you don't like somebody."

Then Nien stood up and got in the shower. I followed her, though cleaning ourselves wasn't exactly the first priority. It was a tight fit, only made tighter by two horny adults sharing the same space. Taking a cold bath, she knelt down on the tiled floor to suck at my cock as soon as I washed it. Without any intention of really pacing myself this time, I bent her over under the showerhead in return—she was even louder in the shower—cumming inside her mouth this time. That made an ordinary bath much longer than it should have been. Switching to a lazy dinner outfit, by the time I had strung the "for cleaning" sign on the door, we were dragging ourselves by our steps, almost shuffling as we left the hotel. Bún bò Huế and vegetables to restore our spent stamina were what we had in mind. Though linked to my shoulder while we walked down the evening in Huế, she cheekily asked some. 

"Maybe a few beers and one more round." 

I liked that proposition simply because Nien said it. 

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