Yeah, okay, whatever—you'll admit it: you're obsessed with Tzuyu's thighs.
It is what it is.
You are but a man, a living being: flesh, blood, pulse; an internet connection and access to hyper-zoomed photos and slow-motion fancams and excessive manifestos on Chou Tzuyu's legs and Chou Tzuyu’s waist and Chou Tzuyu’s perfect dimples and smile and the golden-ratio proportions; the S-curve, the hourglass of her; none of which get as straight to the point as these carefully curated comments:
notice me mommy
pleeease sit on my faaace
let me dieeeee between those thighs good looooooorrrrdddd
(Or, for the cinephiles: the quote-tweet of a poorly composited clip; one side—Tzuyu shaking ass, the other—a GIF from Mad Max: Fury Road of the guy jumping off a speeding truck yelling WITNESS MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
But you know what?
Fuck yeah: witness you, indeed.)
Witness you now, camped out in her dressing room—your home for the past fifteen minutes—listening to the roar of tens of thousands of people bleed through concrete and steel while you wait with your VIP pass and your fast-fracturing patience and your cock heavy and in a far worse state than it was backstage at the Victoria’s Secret show; that had Tzuyu in a number that pushed her tits up so delightfully it crashed their whole website; shopping carts flooded by wishes for cleavage that could look half as glorious as hers.
And then she's there, or here, and you're drafting a manifesto of your own.
“Baby—” is how Tzuyu starts, and all it gets her is a hand around her waist, fingerprints pressed into sweat-slicked muscle, and she just goes with it—lets herself be reeled through the threshold and spun into you until the arrangement goes: 1) the door, 2) her body, 3) your cock, 4) you.
“Hell of a show,” you coo into her ear, pulling out the shiver she's kept coiled tight just for this moment—a pressure valve, a controlled detonation, released the second your thumb presses into the meat of her thigh.
“Baby—” again, and your girl is burning up: stage-lights hot, dimpled cheeks gone rosy red, flushed throat to sternum, wrapped up in what is just a feat of costume design and structural engineering and frankly the pinnacle of human craftsmanship: the leather corset cinched around her chest, doing theological work with her tits; the matching hot-pants sealed over her thighs (likely had to be poured on earlier, left to set, that's the only possibility); the knee-high boots she is absolutely not going to be able to walk out of here in.
She leans anyway—gracing you with more room to work in, rolling herself against you, because there's a countdown until you both have to clear the stadium and it's only hard and fast from here on out.
(Don't concern yourself with whatever wreckage survives into the aftermath, you're not going to see this room ever again, anyway.
Well. Until next tour.)
“Need a minute?” You're busy taking stock: the rapid shallow breaths, the copper-spun hair matted to skin, the sweat tracing her collarbone and running rivers to places you'll find the end of soon.
Tzuyu tilts her chin up, cocks an eyebrow. That stadium-filling smile. So ruthlessly, indiscriminately gorgeous. Real breath-taker, soul-stealer, habitual cock-hardener; your girlfriend (you lucky, lucky fucker). Another grind of her hips against you finds you stretching. “Could you even wait a minute?”
“No, but I thought I'd be polite and ask.” You shrug, bump your hips back, far less graceful and subtle than the little ditty she pulled off; through your denim, dragging across her abs, a point of punctuation on her body. “Consent and all.”
“Oh?” She laughs; small, private, non-transferable to anyone outside this room. Rises on her toes so the tip of your cock drags down to where she actually wants it, takes your face in both hands. “Is this something I'll need to consent to?”
“Just your standard offer for concert aftercare,” you deadpan. “Very exclusive. One provider.”
“That's funny. I don't remember subscribing.”
“Opt-out situation,” you tell her, lips finding the exact junction where salt and sweet meet on her neck. She sighs, end-to-end. “Really have to read the fine print.”
“You know how I am with that sort of stuff.” And it's really something; your Tzuyu underneath everyone else's Tzuyu—stage-beautiful but zero performance left in those to-die-for cheekbones; just her, released and free, origami in your hands, folding like she was always going to—a swan, some sort of songbird, or maybe simply a fucking lawn chair, if permitted. “You get your hands on me and I just can't help but say yes.”
Tzuyu: dressed like this and saying shit like that.
Yes, you both are embarrassingly, irretrievably, categorically gone over each other; and it's your problem, and hers, you've both long made peace with it, ready to be buried in clearly marked graves, side-by-side: here lies Chou Tzuyu and her secret boyfriend who fucked each other well and truly to death.
So, of course you're going to kiss her.
Lips on hers—same every time, new every time—her sighs feeding into your lungs, hands fisting in your shirt, hips translating heat into friction. Her tongue finding yours in ceremonial greeting; sparking up the sign outside, reading: occupied, all yours, always been yours, you just had to show up and smile.
And it's the release from her, all of it: everything that's been pulled taut since soundcheck, since this morning; each glance she's had to swallow, instinct suppressed by choreography and professionalism and forty thousand watching eyes.
The kiss compounds, stacks on stacks. Her leg lifts, hooks behind your shin, grinds the core of her against you—more, wanting more.
You stop yourself. Pull your lips free. The whimper that follows is pitchy and involuntary and criminally cute.
Her bottom lip wobbles, doing its intended and well-documented work on your heart.
“Why?” she asks—genuine, adorable, the whole bullshit shebang—how could you ever deprive an angel like this of such an innocent/filthy carnal desire?
You peel her hands from your neck, leaving them at her sides. Like a good girl, she waits.
Then you slide down to your knees.
The sound she makes could shatter something; it settles for the room's acoustics, forces it into submission, bends it over a knee.
“Ah,” she exhales. “That's why.”
Hotter down here. Always is: down-lights been baking her all night and it radiates off every inch, and at this distance—breathing her in, flooding your airways with the tangy-sugary-rock-salt-fucking-umami-scented compound of Tzuyu after three hours on a lit stage, the heat pooling thickest right at the deep crease where her legs meet. Coherent thought exits the building, it was never given a backstage pass, and the inside of her knee gets an open-mouth kiss—she nearly keels over completely, hands scrabbling for your hair.
“Oh God—” and you can hear the laugh underneath it, the perpetual disbelief at how fast she comes apart. “You have no idea how long I've been thinking about this.”
“I have some idea.”
“Your fault,” she says, and her voice fractures on it—”oh—standing at the barricade, staring at me the whole time; you have a problem you know—always looking at my—”
“Precisely.”
(And permit the detour: just to pontificate about Tzuyu's thighs because they warrant it.
Her thighs are strong. Belonging to both the Goddess and the statue depicting her—inspired by myths, carved out of marble—everyone gets to see the output; nobody gets to feel the mechanism but you. Thousands of hours of training and dancing condensed into lean muscle that locks on either side of your skull and could, if you don't hurry up and get on with it, end you.
But you're with the manifestos on this one—it'd be a perfect way to go. Heat coming off them in waves, obscene against your lips, all that tension gone soft and pliant the second your mouth's on her, flexing when she likes something, gripping when she likes it more—under your palms, against your jaw, clamping over your ears; two years deep and not one degree cooler about it.
Glory, glory, hallelujah.)
Your tongue drags higher. Slow. Taking stock along that honey-gold strip of skin. She tenses under your mouth—quads jumping—and her fingers in your scalp go from grip to claw.
She breathes, “You're unbelievable.”
“I've been told.”
“There's other places for your lips besides my legs you know—ah—”
The rest dissolves: you're busy running your tongue along the seam where leather draws a strict border against the plush of her thigh, finding the points where she's holding the most tension, that make her hips buck up, where the fabric is already warm and damp and about to get so much worse.
It earns you a warning: “You need to get these pants off me.”
“Give me a second.”
“You've had all night—”
“Shh.”
“Shh?”
“Let me appreciate you.”
“That’s what the concert was for, honey—”
“No, that was for everyone else,” you correct her, breathe it straight into the leather. “This—” You make a show of it, the séance you’re performing on your knees, spellbound by the tightest leather on the sweetest body. “These—are for me.”
She manages, barely, “Always.”
You nod, reverently. “So. Shorts. Stay on. For now.”
Tzuyu goes quiet. Breath hitches. Oh, she knows what it means, what you want. It moves through her, settles deep, has her relaxing against the door, parting her legs. “Fine.”
Hands hold her cheeks, digging in, the type of shit you revel in; putting your girl through this. Getting closer, deeper in that crevice, slowly, slowly, slow—until her thighs slap against your cheeks, a clapperboard calling action.
And then you put your mouth on leather. On her.
Sighs—turning into unhinged, sloppy sounds—eke through the gap between her thighs and your ears, knees drawing you in, lethal force, and this is one for the history books, something Darwinian, maybe that grave only has room for one; here lies you, suffocated with the biggest pussy-eating grin on your face, found choking on leather and your girlfriend's cum.
Zero complaints there, anyway.
“Oh fuck—”
“Quiet,” you say into her folds, even though experience tells you this word has had little success with Tzuyu; but, honestly, whatever fuels the kink.
“Trying—” she gasps, hips rolling against your face, proving your point. “But you've got a mouthful of my cunt and you're telling me to keep it down?”
“Mostly leather,” you hedge, but Tzuyu really is grinding hard—hard enough that the heat cuts sharp and precise. Press harder, force out more of these keens, ‘til she has to muffle herself with the back of her own hand.
Kneeling at her altar, getting where she's hottest—tongue dragging up and down the inside, lathering under the seams, working into the gap and getting torturously close; wetness already leaking through, running down; scoop it all up, suck it down, drink your holy communion and cherish every drop.
Exactly what she deserves (Tzuyu, the outfit, these thighs). So, so sensitive, it's so rude—a flicker of your tongue, a press of your lips, pure filth rumbled against her skin and she's gasping, writhing, the idol outline breaking, reconstructing into a shape a bit more pliable, dissolving into a soaked, sweat-drenched mess.
“It's always so easy for you isn't it? Hate how good it is—” and it comes out as a whimper, pleasant, tipsy slurring as Tzuyu's voice pitches higher, higher than please, for God's sake, keep it down this time; the very polite request Nayeon made that you fully intend to break.
Has you questioning the thickness of the door, reminiscing about Osaka, the last stop, when Tzuyu got so obscenely loud that Jeongyeon herself burst in to see if her group's dearly beloved youngest was being murdered—only to be yelled at: get the fuck out, he's killing me with his cock.
These thoughts get pocketed, to be added to later.
Nose pressing hard into the peak of her pussy—taking a long, selfish inhale; fingers holding firm against the muscle, lifting her ass off the door so she can sink further down your face.
“Please,” and she's getting desperate, fingers knotting in your hair, trying to hoist you in. “Take them off—I need your mouth on me, I need to feel you—”
“Not yet,” you tell her again, but she blathers on and on—how Tzuyu always gets—at her best and her worst; a bundle of needs arranged in a neat hierarchy, scratch that: it's just a fucked up ouroboros with your tongue at the beginning and the end and her thick thighs and her full-lipped cunt being looped through in the middle of it all.
With your mouth on her, it always is. Sucking bruises into her long legs, taking the skin between your teeth, marking the softest parts on her body, your declarations, her medals she gets to wear later—this is mine, this belongs to me; next concert she'll be forced into shorts cut far too high to hide them. The idea of it, the zoom on the lenses, the high-definition rendering; they'll see it and they'll figure it out: this goddess belongs to someone.
Her mantra confirms it: “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-pleaaaase—”
You don't slow—not yet—not until she's writhing against the wall and her thighs are clenching and unclenching around your head in a rhythm to match the high and whorish sounds slipping from her mouth. You can hear her start to weep, but her cunt is sprouting tears far quicker; against your chin, down your neck, soaking into the collar of your shirt—you haven't even touched her properly yet.
You'll correct that.
You leave her with one final, deliberate, hard suck of your lips against your favourite bruise. Leave the skin red and glowing with your spit. One gratuitous slap against the curves spilling from the back of her shorts, just to see the ripple.
Then you stand.
Tzuyu blinks slow, can't quite land it. She'd glare if she could aim it—slumped against the doorway, fixing on your lips—shiny, wrecked from your project on her thighs—to drag herself level.
Two fingers under her chin, tilting her face until she's looking at you, meeting your eyes—all that dazed awe pointed straight at you. A nod at the vanity in the corner. “Get over there. Turn around. Bend over. Hands on the counter.”
Tzuyu doesn't say a word. Barely breathes.
Bites her lip, nods, and stumbles her way over.
You track her—flushed, a little disappointed that you left enough integrity in her knees to make the trip. The wobble in her limbs, the stripe of sweat running down her spine, the small of her back, disappearing beneath the leather.
Your girl, your performer, your one and only idol; the most out of this world, hand to God, strike you down where you stand, beautiful woman you've ever been in the vicinity of. The outfit on its way to ruin: tight leather still doing its heroic work against her sweaty tits, hot-pants finding darker shades; midnight stained vantablack from your mouth, from her leaking through; hair coming loose—hours to build, minutes to take apart.
She braces herself on the counter, falling forward until her hands land with a soft thump. The mirror stretches across the wall in front of her, fogged slightly at the edges from the heat churning through the room, and she spots you staring through the glass. Gives you a show, whether she means to or not.
You watch her watch you in the reflection—the instinctual arch of her back as you step closer, habit pushing her ass out to receive you. Hands find her hips, thumbs into the sublime belt of skin above the waistband.
A push here and she preens.
Lips back where they belong; dragging up her spine, her throat, up the columns of temples built by worship alone, feeling the foundations, the muscles tense and flex underneath.
Closer and closer, slurping the sticky-sweetness pooling at the crevasse of her neck and shoulder, setting up camp under her ear, before pitching lower to drag over her jaw, her lips slacking open by themselves and you're going to wedge inside—
“Hurry.”
You breathe into her mouth, “What do you need?”
“You,” she sighs, an exhale, a relief. A kiss atop her chin, the tightening of your grip. She knows it's not enough. “Your mouth. Your hands. Wherever. Everywhere.”
“Everywhere? I've only got the two.” Hands drift higher, up her sides, around her back, slowly, torturously slow, working the lacing loose. Not for need of effort—you've long since learned your way around bobby-pins and double-sided tape and enough knots to make you a certified sailor.
“Anywhere—my—”
The final string comes undone. A shrug has the straps off her shoulders and the corset falling, pasties dropping with it. Leaving her bare from the waist up, and you get indulgent with it, take your time. Look up, into the mirror, take it in. Only for a second.
Accounting for all the best decisions in your life, and every past life too; rewards for time spent in previous reincarnations possibly as some celibate monk achieving enlightenment; only to find in the next leap that true nirvana is actually between Tzuyu's legs.
This current incarnation has you discovering exactly how far down the flush goes, splitting the difference between her breasts; the same ones that fill your hands, splay through your fingers—and they rise and fall, shrill inhales making them heave, nipples pebbling at just a brush of your fingertips.
And Tzuyu, finding her words, the simple, single-syllable vocabulary she has for you: “There—more—yes.”
Toying with them, flicking the peaks, waiting for the right stiffness to pinch. Sharp enough to make her hiss, then ask: “Enough for you?”
“God no,”—loud, decisive, helpless. A demand underneath a laugh. “Your cock. My pussy is literally in tears right now.”
You laugh into her shoulder.
“Weeping. It's so tragic.”
“But does it deserve it?”
“I don't—” and she checks your reflection, honestly considering it. “I don't know. But I do know what I'll do to you if we don't shut it up with your cock in the next minute, and it'll be significantly worse than what you're planning.”
That's more than enough of an answer. You step back, admire the damage. “We'll see about that.”
And the gasp when you free yourself—the button, the zipper, the jeans—because she's been so lost in herself that she's only just realising how much of an entire situation it's been for you since the very start.
You catch it all: the drag of her tongue over her lips, the bite that follows. The shudder, the pupils flooding dark when she sees you.
You say, “You did this.”
“Are you ever not so—” She fumbles, forgetting her words when she watches you step closer, resting the length of you atop her ass with a definitive slap. “So full.”
You lift her, adjust her so she's as tall as she can be—the heels help but don't have her quite high enough for your nefarious ideas; you hold her whole weight in your hands.
She reads your mind, tilts her head back against your shoulder and says, “Go on. Take me.”
Reaching around, popping the button of her shorts, the shudder as you drag them down, her drenched panties with them—over the swell of her hips, down her thighs, force them over the boots until she can kick them off and land them somewhere behind you.
And then it's just her, Tzuyu in knee-high boots and nothing else, long limbs bare and red and littered with your branding; red highlighted against cream, glistening from the slick and the spit.
You step forward, position, aim, level yourself with her. Thumbs press into her ass, parting the valley of her cheeks, edging her knees slightly apart. Fingers firm around her waist, holding her in place, the squeeze of her thighs.
You slide right between them.
“Oh my God—” Her head lifts, eyes clenched shut, fingers scrambling at the counter, knocking over all the pieces that helped put her together hours before, sending them tumbling to the floor. “Always so thick between my thighs.”
You groan, grunt, can't help it—the first slide is unholy. You see it all, watch it through the mirror; the head of your cock emerging from between her locked legs, coming out the other side slick and dark, and it's heat and softness and smooth all around, her cunt lathering you as you push through.
Slowly, carefully, the friction easing with every pass; the schlick sound of it filling the entire room.
“It's going to ruin me,” Tzuyu realises, feeling the way you throb between her, engorged and fighting against the grip of her muscles. “When this gets inside me it's going to fuck me up, isn't it?”
You pass by the rhetorical, focused on setting a rhythm. Something slow, paced, plenty of room to drag achingly along her cunt, let your cockhead push against her clit and force a bit of pressure with each thrust. And Tzuyu responds in kind, finds the motion at once—rolling her hips when you press forward, polishing your thickness with her juices, your cock properly lacquered and stained in budding girlcum.
“Your thighs,” you breathe into her ear, pulling her back against you, catching in the glass two people with unflinching grins on their faces, utterly fucked out of their minds. “Always showing them off, stadium after stadium, leaving them on everyone's mind. You know how many people are probably choking themselves over you right now, yeah?”
“I only care about one,” Tzuyu murmurs back, eyes blinking closed and open again, as if to double-check, maybe it's a dream, maybe the wrecked visage reflected in front of her is too blissful to be true—some bizzaro-doppelganger that just happens to look like her except in her sluttiest, most honest form; tall and proud and tits on display, nipples like pendulums with every thrust, swinging up and down.
“And look at them now. So perfect around my cock,” you grit out, her thighs twitching around you as if they have a mind of their own, pressing you in from either side, God. “It's genuinely insane.”
And the sigh, the quiver, the shudder when you tell her:
“You're made for this, Tzuyu.”
“I know,” she says, words turning into mud; formless, less coherent the more you push. “I know—it's so right. Feels so—fuck—you feel so good. This is all I've been thinking about since—”
“All show.”
“Before then,” and she smiles, laughs, because she has a secret she's been holding. “I knew it. Knew when they showed me this outfit. This ridiculous corset. Those tiny, tight shorts. I told the stylist straight away—this outfit is perfect.”
The smile, pure innocence concentrated into a lie that you almost believe. She rolls her ass back against you, dips her hips into that dangerous vector; the one where her thighs clench and angle your cock higher, where the head of your cock brushes against where she's most swollen, most shamelessly soaked; drinks down the look in your eyes when she does it again and again and again.
“Perfect to be ruined. Perfect to get fucked in. Perfect to make my thighs look so good for you.” The noise you thrust out of her next—a grunt, a throat cleared—enough to get the next words out clean: “Now tell me it was enough to get you to fuck me properly.”
You answer with speed—with force—pushing your cock right through, forcing her clit to flicker roughly, a guttural 'Christ'—from someone's lips—hers, yours, you can't parse it—as your hips piston right into her ass.
“Faster—I'm—” she starts, but you know; because you're melding at this point, sharing one mind, one slick, urgent rhythm that makes the vanity, the mirror, the bottles, the whole stadium seem to rattle.
Knuckles turn white, she's meeting you thrust for thrust now, pushing back against you; each and every time—cock slides through the squelch-smack-sploosh of it, head bumping against her clit, an obscene little kiss with each pass, a call met with a response in the form of a jerk or a whine or just the squeeze of her around you to let you know that yeah, she gets the message.
“Holy—close,” she gasps, grabbing the word and holding onto it like a lifeline—through the thrusting, the trembling thighs and ragged breaths and the way she's so wet your cock is just dripping with it. “So close, so close, don't stop—please—”
Not in a million fucking years.
You reach around, fill a palm with her tits, squeeze, pinch, bring her closer and twist just right to have her body in fits; a seizure that makes her knees buckle together and your vision blur for an instant—but it's enough.
She lifts up—higher, goes to the tops of her toes, as tall as her heels would allow, coming off your cock, letting the tip drag down to land at the centre of her, across her folds—settling against the only place it really belongs.
“Oh-wait-God-fuck-I'm-not—”
You pull her down, push right through that blistering-hot cumhole and thrust hard all the way in, full-length, every thick inch fed to her greedy cunt, and Tzuyu screams.
“God-yes-fuck-you—” and the expletives that follow, something filthy and loud that can't be stopped by any number of walls—and the one thought in your mind that isn't some variation of holy-shit-Tzuyu's-ridiculously-wet-cunt-is-choking-my-cock knows Nayeon's going to have some words about this later.
But her pussy pulses, fights your cock thrashing against its walls; Tzuyu snapping shut around you so hard you can barely move, and she cums and cums and cums; her head thrown back, hair draping over your shoulder; wailing, moaning, cursing your name and your cock and your ancestors and the fact that this is only the first time you've made her cum today and you owe her so, so much more.
Squeezing and wrenching and desperately trying to milk you with every devastating method it has in its arsenal—but you don't fall with it, you don't finish it.
Yeah, God, of course you want to, you're right there, legs dangling off the cliff—but you're not done with her yet, not even close.
So you just hold her against you, let her shake, let her cunt flutter so heavenly around your shaft, her abs flex and quiver under one palm, her heart leaping out of her chest and through the lovely tit you've got a firm grip on. Let her drool onto your shoulder, tongue, mouth gone slack and eyes glassy, looking up at you because it is—reliably, catastrophically—and it bears repeating—every goddamn time.
You twist her, cock slipping out a few solid inches and she makes a sound of loss that would fit in a funeral dirge; but yeah, you just want to kiss her, something rough and claiming, to help her swallow the broken sobs she's still making.
And she kisses you back, desperate, like she wants to hurt you with her tongue and her lips, teeth catching your lower lip; hands, fingers, fingernails clawing at your skin and your hair and there really is only one thing left to say:
“Inside me,” she spits into your mouth; words of a woman who is owed a grand railing and is ready to call in the whole account, backdated to the day you met, “I need your cum inside me. Now.”
She reads the stupid smirk on your face. Bites your lip again.
Again: “Now.”
You step back, length completely sliding out of her; cunt-drool keeping you tethered to her pussy lips.
Tzuyu groans, nearly collapses against the mirror.
“Then earn it, Tzuyu.”
There's little room left for grace, you manage what you can; an awkward-four-legged crab walk because Tzuyu's still shaking and needs you to support her weight as you collapse onto the couch.
A thud and you're seated, Tzuyu falling into your lap; your flawless girl, tits level with your lips, thighs bracketing either side of yours, cunt juice streaming down the plane, and her hands on your shoulders, bracing for what's next.
“Needed this,” Tzuyu sighs; cradling your head closer to her chest, welcoming the tongue that snakes out, rolls around a nipple, the teeth grazing the sensitive slope of her tits.
You jerk your hips, drag your cock through her folds—not inside, not yet—and she grits out your name. “I know.”
“No—you don't,” she tells you, smile on her face, wistful and pretty and she's just melting into your hands on her hips. “You know how hard it was to not go looking for you? All day I thought about—fuck—thought about finding you. Getting on my knees,” she closes her eyes, bringing herself back to some half-remembered dream. “Wanted to take your cock deep and drink you dry and fill my belly full of your cum—but I had to stop. Do you want to know why?”
You don't need to respond; you know the real answer, can feel it thrumming through her.
Tzuyu nods, slow, languid. Leaning in, dipping her head, breath hot against your jaw like she's letting you in on a private confession, something she'd only admit through the longest, sweetest torture. “I wanted you desperate. Hard all day. Needed you thinking about nothing else but me and my mouth and my cunt and my thighs.”
Your cock's fighting your own willpower, levelling with her entrance, you can feel the pulse of her meeting your throb; beads of precum slitting out of your cockhead ready to make the leap into her cunt. It's a game of millimetres at this point—a slip of your hands, a twitch of her hips, a slight fucking breeze; all it would take to break her.
“So I think I deserve a reward—for being so good for you, don't I? Or maybe you're mad at me for not taking your cock sooner—you can tell me I've been bad, that I need to pay you back, that I owe you—” Tzuyu's lips skate across your chin, doing their wicked work, inhaling every wisp of desperation and pure insatiable need that's been simmering underneath your skin all day. “Please, go ahead and put me in my place.”
“Fine.”
A forced exhale—wind knocked out from her lungs and into yours; cunt parting around you hot and slick and Jesus Christ she's so fucking tight, but you drive through it, wrenching her down while forcing yourself up and by the time you're fully hilted there's just one high, continuous sound she's making—a choir of wails, sobs, cries; a blissful chorus.
Her hips tilt to draw you deeper, thighs locking around your waist and there's the whole of your interior life, mind returning to one reliable verdict—you can't help it—death, taxes, and the combination of both when you collect what you’ve been dying for from Tzuyu's tiny, pink pussy and fill her so completely she can launch a one-woman investigation into the existence of the afterlife herself.
And you know her, know your girl, she wants to be more eloquent about it, wants to find a better way to convey how good you're railing her right now—so easily, firm quick strokes gliding in and out of her blistering cunt; guided by your hands holding her waist steady, but all she can manage is the high-level shit, the words that don't really matter but the effort to make them is Herculean nevertheless: “There—God—there—fuck—please—fuck—fuck—fuck—”
You hold her, fuck into her, just watching her—this ideal idol, letting your thighs slap against hers, punishing the muscle; absorbing all the details, the classified information that never leaves your desk.
Her face when you bottom out; the squeeze of her eyes, the slacking of her jaw, this euphoric grin dancing across her lips. Her tits and their heft, the bounce with every stroke—putting a hand back on one, filling your palm whole; the thought there—did you mold them, or were they tailor-made for you—or really, who gives a fuck because a squeeze makes her squeal so delightfully and you know that if you roll it she'll clench, cunt will pulse once, twice, around you and her head will drop back and she'll tell you again—
“More—there—”
“Yeah?”
And mumbling, fumbling around the back of her pretty head, sorting through all the things that may have existed there before you started filling it with thoughts of your cock, diving deep for the words and somehow managing to string them together—”Both—please—your hands, mouth, whatever—touch me more—”
You return your teeth to the other and her volume pitches; whips its way around the room, like it's searching for the cracks, the little gaps under the doorway so it can sneak into the corridor, down the hall—reaching for someone, anyone who can acknowledge how thoroughly you satisfy Chou Tzuyu's cunt.
“Your cock is so damn good,” she breathes; and that's all there really is, plain and simple, the why of it all.
What you've always known—sure you're helplessly, embarrassingly, probably-going-to-ask-her-to-marry-you-eventually down bad for her, even though you both know that you really are.
It's this—pounding Tzuyu's insides and being thanked for it. Her grip, her heat; not just her tits, her whole body, glorious thighs and all; engineered with this application in mind; an absurdly deranged thought to conjure—a decade of discipline, of investment, liquidated against your cock; an endpoint to just bounce mercilessly.
You remind her of it too: “Forty thousand people,” you mark the record into the underside of her tits.
“Please—”
“Every single one of them.”
“I know—please—I know—don't stop—”
“Going home right now,” you drive into her, shattering her on the downstroke, coming back together when you pull her up, just to break her into pieces again when you impale her completely. “Dreaming about these thighs—this body—this tight cunt stretching around me so nice.”
She's just properly gushing now, unashamedly messy with it; from her cunt, down your cock, past the crevasses of her thighs slapping on top of yours and ruining the couch below, but so what, sell it online or something; a Tzuyu-fied cum-stained couch; the sweaty outlines of your fucked, formless bodies on the cushions, would make a great centrepiece in any international gallery.
But anyway, back to the obvious: “It's all fucking mine,” and before you even have to tack on the end of it the question, Tzuyu's already picking up what you're putting down—
“All of it,” she says, just holding herself by your shoulders now, digging herself in, fastening herself down for the storm, “Yours”—once, pounded out of her—“Yours”—again, but broken, shattered; losing its footing in her lexicon. “Only you—only for you.”
And the other thing, what's left when it all slips: the composed, picture-perfect idol facade vacated, checked out, no lens in the world able to catch what's underneath. Just her and her wanton needs—fucked raw, fucked hard, wrung dry and left boneless. If she can walk or make words, or remember her name after this you've fucked up, because this was always her scheme: she chose the outfit, laced herself up in straight-up mainlined sin knowing you'd tear it off, spent all those hours on that stage with this exact destination in mind; so, yeah, hurry the fuck up—pick up the pace.
The couch jostles, fights the wall behind it, the carpet underneath. Something crashes to the floor, rolls off a table, never even mattered. Tzuyu stops holding back, the words come out clean, no longer minced; it was only ever a matter of time, because she's finally getting what she needs and yeah, the whole room, all of backstage, her groupmates down the corridor; no doubt are all well fucking aware.
A problem for later, you suppose.
“They can't imagine,” she says, unique to just her when she's at the end, more coherent, not less. “My tiny pussy—filled so—fucking—deep,” breathlessly, urgently, getting off on saying it, getting off on knowing it's getting you off too, “Stretched—ruined—a big cock full of cum saved just for me.”
Using her in every way girls like her should never be, but pussies like hers are built for—fucktoy, fleshlight, cocksleeve on long legs—holy fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I deserve it—don't I? A nice load, deep inside,” whimpering, proper quiver in her lip, and a last beg for good measure; loading her ammo, cocking her gun, finger on the trigger, “Can't stop—like that—don't you dare—”
Like you could—”Not going anywhere,” you remind her, holding on to where she's flickering between hard and soft; Tzuyu, hot as fuck all over and even hotter when she cums and tells you—
“Harder—”
Trying to—
“Fuck me—”
You're there—
“Please—please—please—”
She only needs to ask once because her cunt is divine, wrapped around you and leaving you with nowhere to go but up and down, back and forth; fucking her with nothing but terrible, wonderful intention until your hand is under her hip, slapped across her ass, forcing her to change the angle so she goes completely rigid and oh—oh—oh fuck—
“So—gah—good—”
Running straight through it—keep the angle; drive harder. The arch of her spine, lifting herself up, abs peeling off your waist and there's a gap, the opportunity—thumb back on her clit and she's clenching around you in warning pulses.
Thighs locking around your waist, hairline fractures in your hipbones, her body winding up—she's—you can feel her everywhere.
A wet choke, a stunned gasp, cunt swallows, gushes, inks something with her cum down the veins of your cock and she says it in case you miss it—
“Fuck—how the fuck do you make me cum so—”
Hitting her, tearing her apart—long, so loud—like she never stopped, and maybe she hadn't; been on that frequency since you first pushed inside her, and it'd make sense—her pupils at that dreamy sheen, stars in her eyes, shot into the stratosphere on your cock—and yeah, you'll take it, die with it, leap off the truck and declare WITNESS MEEEEE for all to see.
But she's not done. Yeah, she's fucked open and out, but her pussy's got other ideas, and her mind's on the same wavelength.
“Yours,” she says, fierce, needy, petulant; the princess turned brat, a rare, precious occurrence. “Give me yours—all of it—now—please—inside—”
And she keeps demanding, the sounds getting worse and better simultaneously; run out of proper onomatopoeia for her cunt on your cock, inventing brand-new ones to make up for it; her moans are climbing back up to join the fray. Despite it all, despite that she's just cum, she's oversensitive, rattling with it, but still taking it anyway, pulling it from you—gorgeous in every way, every inch, every configuration—what you get when you take Tzuyu from the stage and fuck her this hard and for this long and she clearly does not give a fuck that she's literally crying for your cock and cum and cannot stop—
“I'm begging for you to—”
“I'm here,” and her pussy milks it out of you, twists, pulls, grips—long rolling quivers around you. You're sunken deep into her, can't move, can't do anything but twitch and you don't know when you started but you're kissing her hard, groaning into her throat and following her over.
In the midst of it, cock spasming inside her, detonation on either side of your timeline—was there a before, is there an after? Or is there just this, now; soul leaving your body and flooding this ludicrously tight, hot cunt and—where were you again, what's your fucking name even—do you even care to find out because this gorgeous, unbelievable, unreal girl has got you in the sweetest embrace, lips, arms, pussy and all; clearly working through her own aftershocks, draining every last drop and stray thought out of you, and it goes on and on, and her legs are holding you there and it goes on a little longer.
White—at the edges, her cunt, your vision, it's all the same at this point; just fucking it all into her, stuffing her full, bulging her tight belly with you whole; all of you, all of the future yous too and what do you have to say for yourself:
“Take my fucking cum, Tzu—”
And what does she have in response?
“So much—all mine—God, fill me, please—”
It comes back gradually.
Names, places, details colouring the edges.
Tzuyu—small, floating on air, hovering on your cock, eyes half-lidded, glazed, satisfied; something that leans narcotic. Faint tears tracking down her cheeks, somehow reaching your tongue, or it's her sweat, or yours; but it's just hot and salty and that just about sums up the both of you.
You feel her heartbeat coming down against yours; survey the damage, the mascara that survived an entire concert but couldn't make it past this, the hair that's been reset and tangled and still looks wonderfully her. The corset was left by the mirror. The shorts surrendered somewhere close by.
“Could you ever—” Tzuyu comes to life, first to speak, let you know that she's still with you in the land of the living. “Fuck me normally?”
You laugh. “What's that like?”
“Like, leave me with some dignity.” She shifts; the ooze of cum, the exaggerated pornographic audio that accompanies it as it seeps out around the seal of her perfect plump pussy-lips glued to your cock proves her point.
“Sounds boring.”
“It would leave us with a lot less explaining to do,” she says, and you're already on clean-up duty, thumb to her cheek, wiping away the stragglers there; piece-by-piece, reassembling this demolished dream of a girl.
“To who?”
Tzuyu gives you a look.
“I think we're well past that,” you say, rattling down your list; “Nayeon, definitely. Sana can't say shit after what she got up to in Paris.”
“I know, but—”
“Momo literally fist-bumped me in the hallway and said, See you in Valhalla, brother,” and that has Tzuyu snorting into your neck, adorable, winning, her; still all wet and shaking and in tears from how hard she came.
Another lazy squeeze of her walls around you, habitual milking at this point, and she sighs, repeating, “Valhalla, Christ.”
“Legitimately.”
And she tests her muscles around you again, intentionally this time, and you throb back, and you're steering the car back onto the road now, putting things back on the most obvious paths—”You're going to give me a reputation.”
“It'll look great alongside mine,” you muse, drag your palms up those thighs once more, thumbing the damage, the territory marked and yeah; the stylist, make-up artists, she's gonna get a real talking to. “We can compare notes.”
She adjusts, twists; obscene, and more of your load starts to run, messy, dripping down her folds and onto your lap, waiting to be fucked right back into her; it's an intersection of indecency—pretty, fucked-up, dangerous.
Tzuyu in a nutshell.
Noticing: “You're still hard.”
Noticing back: “You're still sitting on it.”
Rolling her hips once, experimental, having you both groaning, moaning in stereo. She reads your face and knows what's coming next.
“How long do you think before Jeongyeon comes knocking again?” And it's already published by the time you say it—posted, trending, bookmarked—out there to be read and thumbed through—she's giggling all girlish and cute, you're laughing dark and low; she's getting flipped onto her back, pressed into the couch cushions that once had bigger aspirations than this.
Those thighs—again; downright incredible things, run out of words to bless them, just holy fuck do they spread so nicely, automatically falling open, heels in the air, knees hooked high over your shoulders. Tzuyu, Tzuyu, Tzuyu—built to be handled exactly like this.
A look in her eyes, the adoration there, the only lovers left alive of it all, the I'll hold your hand and jump off the cliff with you if you'd just lead me, has you thinking all sorts of romantic shit: I love you, marry me, let's maybe finish up by doing something dumb to make this something permanent.
But the comments are in your head again, so:
“I'm going to die between those thighs.”
Tzuyu cocks an eyebrow, you're just reciting the obvious. “Good.”
“Yeah?”
“I'll sit on your face in the afterlife too.”
“Hell of a way to spend eternity,” and you're already moving, laughing, tongue wrestling her down but there's no need, she was, is, always has been; apparently forever will be even after you're bones and dust—yours.
Hand on her thigh, one last time for good measure, pressing your fingerprints into the give of it, stamping off on a job well fucked, and she has to say: “Baby, you are so, ridiculously—”
Here we have the big horny story. It is just about all smut. Enjoy
Length 4.1K
Jihyo x Momo x M reader
Walking around New York, Momo and Jihyo had their sights set on one thing. That was finding a man who could satisfy their needs. At the moment, the pair were still wearing the clothes they had performed in: tight body suits, cropped jackets, and sweatpants. The look undoubtedly brought attention to them, considering their figures. The attention their bodies got let them look in the right places for what they were after, and after walking around in the cold for quite a while, they had found it.
They saw you walking along the street, their eyes drawn to your pants. They had noticed a large bulge as you walked toward them. Jihyo licked her lips and turned to Momo, who gave a slight nod. With things settled, as they passed you, Jihyo took your hand and dragged you along with them toward a small alley. You couldn’t believe what was happening. After an initial resistance to being grabbed, you had noticed it was the attractive Twice members doing it, and you followed along. In the alley, they sprang into action. Jihyo spun you around, pushing you into Momo.
The pair shared a smirk between themselves as they trapped you between their shapely bodies. “Don’t you want to give us something nice and warm to drink? It’s cold out here,” Momo said, pressing her bust against you. With no distance between the two of you, you saw how her bodysuit dug into her skin. The Twice members had their hands running over your body. You felt Momo reach into your pants, her gentle hands stroking your cock. “Ooh, you have something nice and big for us.” She chirps. Momo looks past you for a second. “Did you hear that, Jihyo? We have something good to play with.”
“Yeah?” Jihyo giggles. She moves her hands down your body, gripping your shaft. “Oh, you’re right!” You feel Jihyo squeezing your cock, before she runs her hand along your shaft. “Oh, he’s so big.” Jihyo’s words soon shift back to you. She stands on her tiptoes and whispers into your ear, “We’re going to have a lot of fun together. I hope you can handle us.” You gulp at the statement. The two vixens were going to have their way with you; there was little doubt about that. The pair pushed you against the alley wall, Momo nipping at your neck while they pulled your pants down. You felt the cold hit your body instantly, but that initial cold was followed by warmth. You looked down to see Jihyo squatting before you, her warm breath against your cock, and a smile on her face. “We really hit the jackpot. Maybe we should take him back to meet the others.” She said before grabbing your length and slapping it against her face. “Momo, look,” The older woman turned her head, catching what Jihyo meant. Your cock nearly ran the length of Jihyo’s head.
Momo turned back toward you, her hand cupping your cheek as she turned your head toward her. “You might ruin us with that thing. I hope you take responsibility and treat your new sex toys right.” You shudder. Jihyo’s warm lips had wrapped around the head of your cock, her tongue sweeping from side to side as she got her first taste of you. Momo glances down at her leader, “I’ll have my turn later; right now, I need you to do something for me.” Momo pulled the top of her bodysuit down, revealing she wasn't wearing a bra.
Introduced to the cold, her nipple began to harden immediately, the pinkish brown nub poking out now. “Have a taste,” The older woman ordered, pushing her tit into your mouth. She moaned audibly. Your tongue swirled around the hard nub; one of your hands found its place at the small of her back while the other went to Jihyo.
Twice’s leader smiled as she felt your hand on the back of her head. She relaxed her throat and placed her hands on your thighs. Jihyo eagerly bobbed her head, her tongue running along the underside of your cock. She pushed herself to take as much of your cock as she could, ramming it into the back of her throat. Your legs felt like they were going to give way as the pleasure built in your body. You gripped Momo’s waist tightly and bit down on her nipple. The pain made Momo moan; she was enjoying it. “You like being rough, don’t you?” She cooed. Momo pulled herself away, stretching her sensitive flesh as you held on. “Fuck, that’s good,” she groaned.
“I think it’s time I had a taste of you, though.” You release the hard nub and let Momo squat down beside Jihyo. Jihyo wraps her lips tightly around your shaft, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks on your cock. She slowly pulls away, a loud pop as she releases your cock. You huff, trying to catch your breath as you stare at the beautiful woman. Strands of saliva remained, connecting your cock and her lips.
Jihyo brings her thumb to her lips, wiping them before scooting over to give Momo some space. They eye each other, Jihyo’s eyes drifting between Momo’s bare breasts and her eyes. Momo stared at Jihyo’s plump lips, seeing them glisten under the sun. The busty women leaned into each other, their lips meeting and tongues intertwining. The sight made your cock twitch, something that they noticed.
They inched closer to you, continuing their kiss with your cock in the middle. Your legs shook as you felt their tongues lap at the head of your cock, their warm appendages rubbing against every inch of it. You placed your hands on their heads, struggling against the overwhelming pleasure you felt. Jihyo and Momo weren’t the type to focus solely on one spot, however. They began to move along your cock, kissing and licking it. “S-shit,” you mutter. They knew exactly what they were doing to you.
“Are you going to cum already?” Jihyo asks you. You struggle to reply as Momo takes her turn, sucking on your cock, taking it into the back of her throat. Your cock twitches in the older woman’s throat. You can feel the sly smile from Momo as she stares up at you. She has a look on her face that’s daring you to cum down her throat. The kind of expression where she knows you’re about to break. Jihyo notices the look and turns to you with a big grin. “You are going to cum, aren’t you? Don’t worry, Momo and I can share.” Those words send you over the edge. You cum down Momo’s throat, filling the older woman’s mouth with your semen. Momo drinks it all down. When your climax starts coming to a close, she holds it in her mouth, letting it all gather as she slowly backs away.
Momo stops, leaving just the tip inside. She grasps your shaft with both hands, stroking it, milking any drops you may have left before finally popping you out of her mouth. She opens her mouth wide, letting both you and Jihyo take a gander at the mouthful of cum she has. Momo rises slowly, grabbing Jihyo’s shoulder and letting your cum drip into her mouth. The erotic sight is enough to make your cock twitch with excitement. Jihyo slowly rose, eventually crashing her lips into Momo’s, where the two continued to swap your cum.
When they broke apart, they stared at each other before turning to you. As much as they wanted to continue right here and now, they knew how hard it could be to fuck two women without a proper bed, especially when neither wanted to just wait on the sidelines. They rushed you over to their hotel, practically throwing you on the bed before discarding their jackets and sweatpants. Momo was about to strip off her bodysuit when Jihyo stopped her, saying it was better to keep it on. In your opinion, Jihyo was right. There was something about seeing the pair in their bodysuits that was more arousing than seeing them naked. Maybe it was the fact that Momo’s bodysuit rode up high, her puffy lips almost fully out. Jihyo’s bodysuit was just as erotic; it was basically sheer. You watched her slip her black bra out. Her mocha nipples were completely visible despite the fabric.
They crawled over to you, climbing onto the bed on either side. They each placed a single hand on your cock, stroking it until you were full mast again. You watched as they licked their lips. Silently, Jihyo gave Momo a slight nod before slowly making her way up toward your head. Momo, meanwhile, straddled you, pressing your cock against your stomach and trapping it with her wet folds. She rocked her hips back and forth, making you moan as she held herself back, waiting for Jihyo to be in position. “I hope you're good at eating,” Jihyo said, a slight giggle in her voice as she straddled your head. She remained inches above your mouth, and you watched as she slid the bottom of her bodysuit aside. She rested herself on your face, letting you drag your tongue along her slit. Jihyo cooed, enjoying how you started. She rocked back and forth gently as you lapped at her folds, but you both wanted more. You grabbed Jihyo’s thighs and held her down as you pushed your tongue inside her.
The leader of Twice arched her back and let out a roar as you took the initiative. Watching this go on, Momo decided it was time for her to join in on the fun. She aligned herself with your cock and impaled herself on it. You moaned into Jihyo's cunt, making the younger woman coo just as Momo let out her own roar. “He’s so big, Jihyo,” She told her leader. It feels like he’s rearranging my guts.
Momo placed a hand over her lower stomach. “I feel so full,” she said, with a wide smile.
“I can’t wait to have that cock myself. Ride him good,” Jihyo replied, pulling Momo into a kiss. The Asian woman's lip-locking ended quickly as Momo began to lift herself off your cock, driving herself back down once only the tip was inside. Momo’s moans filled the room quickly as she got into a quick pace. Her heavy mounds bounced inside her bodysuit as she rode you. You could feel her walls squeezing down on your cock.
“It feels so good,” Momo moaned as she rode you. “I can feel him ramming into my womb, Jihyo. Oh, fuck,” She continued. Momo was pushing every inch of your cock inside her tight cunt. Waves of pleasure were crashing over both of you. It was hard for Momo to continue at her pace, but she kept going.
It was hard for you to focus on Jihyo as the pleasure continued rolling in; all you could really do was hold Jihyo down, your tongue rubbing against her walls as you moaned. Jihyo leaned forward toward Momo, pulling her into another kiss. As their tongue tangled, Jihyo pulled Momo’s bodysuit down, letting her tits flop out, the soft flesh bouncing freely as the older woman impaled herself on your cock. Jihyo grabbed one of the heavy orbs, squeezing it roughly as she felt your tongue pull out and smack against her clit. “His tongue is pretty good, too,” Jihyo groaned. “Maybe we do introduce him to the others.”
“Do you hear that?” Momo moaned, not daring to stop as she neared her climax. You felt her walls tightening around you, clamping down on your shaft and refusing to let go. “We might have you meet everyone else, have them experience this nice fat cock.” Momo’s words began to slur, her mind wandering as pleasure overcame her. “Big, fat cock. It’s stretching me so much. I want you to cum inside me, fill this pussy up.” You didn’t need to be told twice. As Momo continued to bounce on your cock you began to thrust into her. Momo cried out with pleasure; she could feel your cock filling her to the brim. She leaned forward, placing her hands on your chest to support herself as she came. You pushed your hips upward, wanting to be completely buried in her when you came.
Momo felt your warm semen flooding her cunt, the thick spurts filling her womb as you stayed connected to you. “It’s so warm,” she mumbled.
Jihyo watched on as Momo came, the older woman’s body shaking as you dumped your load into her. Jihyo felt jealous; she wanted to experience that too. That being said, Jihyo was having a good time too. She rocked her body, her nectar dripping into your mouth as you made her cum. It wasn’t the explosive finish that Momo had, but it was satisfying nonetheless, especially considering she felt your tongue lapping at her slick folds; occasionally, a smack against her clit made her gasp.
Soon, it was time to switch, though. Momo climbed off of you, your cum dripping from her cunt onto your crotch. It was of little bother to Momo, who figured you’d come inside her again soon. “Give me a little break,” Momo said, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath.
“More for me then,” Jihyo chirped as she set herself up on all fours, shaking her ass back and forth to entice you to take her. You got behind Jihyo quickly, rubbing your cock against her wet entrance. You glanced at Momo; the older woman was lying on her back with your cum spilling out of her. You wished you had been able to look at her when she was riding her, but the sight of what you had done to her was good enough for now.
You return your attention to Jihyo. Twice’s leader was pushing herself back on your cock, letting the tip stretch her cunt. “Mmm, come on, big boy, fuck me up. I want you to make this pussy yours.” You drool at the thought of making Jihyo yours alone, then come thoughts of doing the same to the other members. You grab Jihyo’s waist, digging your fingers into her soft flesh and driving your cock into her. “Fuck!” Jihyo yells as you nearly split her in two. She feels your cock rubbing against her womb; her jaw goes slack, a long moan flowing from deep inside her as you begin to drag your length out of her. “That’s it, fuck me like I’m a piece of meat,” Jihyo muttered. You couldn’t see it, but you could almost make out the smile on her face, given how she said that.
You push yourself back into her warm, tight cunt. Jihyo’s soft ass presses against your crotch. You enjoy the moment, enjoy having the leader of one of Korea’s most popular girl groups ever moan wildly and beg for your cock. You take further control of her, grabbing at her body suit and tearing it at the chest. Jihyo’s tits bounce freely now that you’ve torn their restraints. You grab the heavy mounds, squeezing them tightly in your hands as you thrust into her wildly. Your bodies collide over and over again, your cock meeting her womb and reshaping her cunt. The loud smacks echo around the room, mixing with Jihyo’s powerful moans.
“Oh, god, I’m cumming,” she whined. Each thrust dug away at Jihyo, her walls quivering before squeezing down on your slick shaft. You continued to fuck the young woman, turning her mind to mush as you neared your climax as well. Jihyo could feel your cock begin to throb inside her. She knew your climax was coming. “Cum inside me,” she ordered. “Dump all that thick baby batter in me. Make me a mess,” she moaned, barely able to hold herself together. You weren’t going to follow along that easily this time.
You squeeze her soft mounds tightly, nails digging into Jihyo’s tan skin. Your thrusts become quicker, rougher. Jihyo’s body tries to lurch forward, but you're there to pull her back onto your cock every time. Jihyo’s moans continued to rise as her walls clamped down on your cock, her nectar coating your cock as you pistoned in and out of her. “Fuck! Please cum, cum in me,” she mumbled, her body giving out on her momentarily. “Please fill your fucktoy with all your cum,” she begged. You reached your limit after a few more thrusts. You impaled Jihyo on your cock, giving her what she desired. Your cum painted her walls before it filled her womb, just like you had with Momo. Jihyo’s body shook; the pleasure she got from you giving her a creampie sent her over the edge and spiraling into another orgasm. Her walls flexed around you, milking you of your semen. Her soft ass remained pressed against you, your cum dripping from her cunt as it overflowed. As your cock throbbed, dumping the last of your load inside Twice’s leader, you massaged Jihyo’s tits, moving them along in a circular motion.
“I feel so warm, so full,” Jihyo mumbled. The moment you let go of her tits, Jihyo falls forward onto her face. You drag your cock out of her, leaving her cunt gaping, a river of cum flowing out onto the bed.
Jihyo turns onto her side, sliding her hand between her legs and touching herself. “That was amazing,” she says, trying to catch her breath.
“Yeah, and look,” Momo replies, pointing toward you. Jihyo shifts her eyes and notices that you’re still hard. “Poor thing still has more to give,” Momo told her partner in crime.
“He does,” Jihyo said, thinking of what to do next. She brought her dirtied fingers to her lips, taking small licks of your salty cum before figuring out what she wanted to do next. Jihyo smiled to herself and crawled to Momo, setting herself on top of the older woman, their large busts pushing against each other as Jihyo lined up their cum-coated cunts. Jihyo looks over her shoulder at you, “Well? Pick your poison, big boy.”
You take a moment to enjoy the sight of their painted pussies pressing against each other and split the difference, sliding your cock between their body. The girls giggle as you tease them, your shaft brushing against their clits. It felt nice sliding between their bodies; your cock quickly made them slick. As much enjoyment as you got from fucking their bodies in this way, it wasn’t a replacement for their cunts. You move lower, slipping inside of Momo. The older woman groans, reveling in the feeling of your cock stretching her out again. Jihyo watches with glee, taking in every detail of Momo’s moaning face. “You love having this cock inside you,” she said to her fellow Twice member.
“I-it’s so good,” Momo stutters.
“I know it's good. It's great for little sluts like us. He just keeps going and going.” Jihyo said before planting her lips on Momo’s; her tongue invaded the older woman’s mouth. Momo accepts the kiss, her hands settling down at Jihyo’s waist.
Pleasing one woman was good, but pleasing both would be better. You make Jihyo moan in Momo’s mouth by slipping two of your fingers into her warm cavern. You spread them out, rubbing her walls and teasing her G-spot. Jihyo pushes back against your hand, pushing your fingers in deeper. While your fingers work on Jihyo, you take the time to ravage Momo. The older woman’s body was already sensitive after cumming once. This second round felt even better than the first, thanks to her newfound sensitivity. She could feel your cock hitting her womb; the sensation sent stars into her eyes as she neared her climax yet again. Just as she was about to reach it, though, you pulled out, switching to Jihyo’s cunt.
The older woman was about to complain, but you stuffed her mouth with your fingers, giving her a taste of your fluids combined with Jihyo's. Without a word, Momo sucked on them, her tongue lapping at your digits. You continued to switch between the women, robbing them of more orgasms, until you began to reach your limit. When that began, you moved Jihyo off of Momo and told them to have their heads near the bed’s edge. They followed your instructions well. You placed your cock, between them, giving each woman one side to clean. You thrust between the mouths slowly, enjoying it as they gave your cock a lashing with their slick and skilled tongues. At times, Momo and Jihyo would team up, sucking on your balls as they jerked you off.
You repaid the pleasure they gave you in kind, sliding your fingers deep into their sticky cunts while your thumb teased their clits. The women moaned, the pleasure building up inside of them as you curled your fingers, rubbing their G-spots until their walls tightened around your fingers. From then on, you slid your fingers in and out, fucking them as they finished cleaning your cock and took turns sucking on the head. You push them over the limit first, your fingers pressing against their G-spot once more as your thumbs press against their clits. Their hips shoot upwards as they cum, nectar squirting out and staining the already ruined bed.
Close to your climax, you take turns with the Twice members, sliding your cock down Jihyo’s throat a few times before doing the same to Momo. The women eagerly accepted your cock, watching with glee as it slid down the other's throat, making it bulge. When it was time for you to cum, they moved their head closer to each other. Jihyo shut her eyes and stuck out her tongue, with Momo quickly copying her.
You jerk yourself to their slick and sweaty bodies, your cock throbbing as you recall what you did to both of them. A second later, you paint their faces in a thick layer of cum, Momo getting the first few spurts, your cum landing across her closed eyes and chin mainly. As you move to Jihyo, you become a little more accurate, your cum landing in her open mouth and across the bridge of her nose. The women rolled onto their stomachs once you were done. “Can you pass me my phone?” Jihyo asked. You did as asked and brought the leader her phone. Jihyo went to the camera and stretched out her arm, giving a small peace sign along with Momo as they snapped pictures of their cum-covered faces. Satisfied with what she had taken, Jihyo sent the pictures to the Twice members’ group chat along with the message, “We found a good one, come over if you want a taste for yourself.”
Jihyo carefully dropped her phone on the ground and lay her head on the bed. Her body tingled pleasantly from all the orgasms she had experienced. Momo was much the same, her body tired, but feeling good. You stared at the women, your cock twitching as you saw them stained with your cum. Jihyo lifted her head, noticing you were still hard. She giggles. “They’ll be here soon enough. If you want to keep yourself ready, why don’t you use these?” Jihyo said, rolling onto her back and crossing her arms under her tits, pushing them up.
“Or you could use these,” Momo chirped, offering up her own tits. You couldn’t say no to that offer. You mounted Momo, using her heavy mounds to keep you hard. The soft flesh felt wonderful as you slid between them. You made the valley between them slick, and received even more pleasure as Momo raised her head, taking small licks at the tip of your cock when it poked through. Jihyo was not one to be left out, though. She got onto her knees and offered you her tits, bringing one up to your mouth. You sucked on it greedily, your tongue swirling around her nipple as your hand slid down her backside until you reached her ass. You kneaded the soft flesh as you enjoyed yourself. You hardly noticed as the door to their hotel room opened, and in came the rest of Twice, eyes wide as they saw Momo's tits being used like a fleshlight and Jihyo cradling your head as you sucked on her tit. Just as quickly as they came in, they dropped their clothes, ready to join in on the fun.
You knock once or twice on the big white door, the kind that promises something beyond a measly, high-end hotel room.
The only thing to get you here in the first place was a text needing no extra thought:
still left me out to dry, i see how it is :// <3 🍑
–
Granted, it's been a few days after the message.
God forbid the efforts to come crawling back to her would make anyone insane for that matter - considering the occasion she was at and the amount of prestige it carried.
The wonders of fashion shows: glamorous in all its might; the kind that would put her on the map.
When that door swings in, she doesn’t really need any further introduction:
“Kept ya waiting?” asks Momo, hand sliding up the frame and flaunting an elbow on her hip. Taking her downtime to the usual standard of Hirai Momo she stunningly owns you know all too well. That trademark head tilt and simple smirk - a small telltale of which you wonder if the sun should’ve stayed along the horizon just a little longer for someone like her.
“Please,” you say, following her in as she walks backwards, eyes trained well on your stature. Attentive- too attentive. As if she wants something. “If I really despised your guts, you’d have a restraining order from me already.”
“Yet here you are,” she replies, letting you fill the opening in front. A familiar proximity you catch yourself in with not just her - but with Dahyun, Sana, Tzuyu, and freaking Jihyo of all people at times. There’s a pattern to be drawn in this. Somehow you haven’t sensed it yet.
“Here I am,” you repeat. And that’s the usual track, unfortunately. From every angle, you’re recalling the recent escapades you’ve done with her. How the lingering thought of omitting any idea of her from your mind was forever the impossibility. You’re keeping it slightly professional with your hands behind your back, the posture upright.
“I’m in a sour mood with you,” Momo then says, swiveling her body into the wider space of the hotel room - a recurring solitude that’s considered one of her many homes. “Hanging me out just because you’re a little scared? What’s Dahyun gonna do? Dismember me?”
“You’ve seen her angry,” you laugh, settling your bearings and sitting on the edge of her bed. “Trust me, I’ve had to do a lot so she wouldn’t kill you instead.”
“So what? It’s not like you’re being put on trial - having a little fun. Get a little scandalous from time to time.”
“Momo-”
She laughs, fingernail to her lip. The neat pink and white robe she’s wearing is molding to her figure. Especially with the “V” neck cut: it does everything to exemplify her tits.
“I’m just saying,” and there’s a hush in her tone, once the space at your lower half is filled by her legs. Again, you’ve seen her build multiple times - more than you would like to count or admit - how the details can be noticed on her waist, her ass, the flawless proportions where you’ve bent and mangled until she’s a mix of an unapologetic, screaming mess begging to be belittled in all the ways you adore and love. Her hands dance on your shoulders, twiddling on the small hairs on your neck. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming to me behind your girlfriend’s back. Remind me again: Was it- hm, girlfriend? Fiancé? Or- here I thought you’ve asked the golden question to her-”
“Good things come with time,” you say. To that, Momo rolls her eyes. She’s smirking at the loose sentence - since she knows her word will be more superior to yours.
“You could say the same thing about your cock,” she then says, fiddling with the bow at her middle. “That and your charm- I mean, seriously. I’m jealous of Dahyun sometimes. How she’s managed to keep you all to herself.”
“I could propose that we have an intervention together.” Your expression lights up slightly when you look up, full of Momo’s star-studded, sly gaze, the dreamy lashes she bashes over yours that really shine when she’s glowing in the low lights. The illuminating ambience of yellow and orange mixed in the background. In the late hours of the evening above the busy streets and meeting atop the clouds. “Talk about the many, many issues you and I have going on. One where we draw the line of who gets the final say; one’s word over the others.”
Momo pouts at that, defeated. Or at least that’s what she wants you to think. “Not even gonna let me persuade you into changing your mind?”
“Depends.” You’re lazily holding her ass, probably on purpose. Every move from this point on won’t be managed by your words. Now that your mind is made up and there’s nothing left to say. “What’s in it for me?”
She unties the ribbon of her robe, and lets it fall onto the floor.
There’s a lot of questions as to why you did what you did - why you keep doing it. Why you spend a good amount of your schedule doing the devil’s work with every sin committed enough to place you at the top of his list. She’s partly the reason you’ve been in this position over and over and over. A recurrence of the sweet libations offered by her are an addiction of their own. Her words are one thing. Her body-
(Well, let’s just say that the company knew what they were doing when she flew out to do this gig.)
She’s coated in grey with leopard prints canvasing the fabric. Most of the seams are at the right tightness that forms her silhouette in curves you didn’t think were possible. You note the second layer beneath and a nice contrast of that fluffy pink bra on her chest - where the small gems were neatly placed and the pendant is buried right at her cleavage.
Oh, she’s model material for sure. There’s no denying that. You don’t need to think back on all the brands proffering for her signature. The selling point was pretty much the given factor.
You’re no different than any other person cordially invited to fashion week. With the observing eyes showing and the parted mouth as a plus.
Momo looks the part: the fuckable girl everybody wants.
Though, you’re a cut above the rest, because you’re the only one who knows her well.
(How much she likes it when you fuck her rough, pull her hair back and into the mattress, pin her arms on the wall trying to brace the impact of your cock pushing up her cunt; disregard her for anything else. A personal toy for your own disposal. The late night booty call you’ll always make time for. The girl who’ll match beat for beat at everything you dish out. She knows no matter how hard you try, there’s a piece of you that belongs to her.)
“Well?” asks Momo, wiggling her body in your hands. “Any first impressions?”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you say, enamored, tapping the groove on beneath her bottom by reflex. “Like they really didn’t have to capitalize on your ass like this-”
“Bless the stylists,” she replies, lowering herself slightly so only your eyes are full of her cleavage. “Bonus goes to the cameras for getting the angles right.”
“Now I’m starting to wonder-”
“How could a wonderful girl like me be able to pull off a look like this?” Momo laughs, cradling your head as you breathe her tits in. A terrible habit, but it’s a natural instinct given the features. “I mean- Jihyo fits hers very well. And if you think back to Nayeon’s Louis Vuitton towel-”
“I can go down the list over and over,” you say with a palm between her legs, pressing roughly; she seethes. “Though, I’m off the clock currently.”
“I figured, but-” she chuckles, reaching over for her phone while you observe her movements.
The screen lights up, eyes darting up and down with record pace. A part of you assumes that she’s sending a message to one of the other girls you work with as a way to stir the pot and spice up the competition- maybe. Yet her lip-biting grin is impossible to interpret.
“-thought I might show you this.”
For a better lack of response: you’re just left speechless.
Then, you helplessly look up as she wiggles the phone in her hand, eyes and mouth sharing the same smirk. “Awwww. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?!”
“I’ve been reduced to staring at this point.”
“As you should,” says Momo, beaming with victory. “Haven’t you been getting my texts?”
“You’re aware of my policy when I’m working: permanently on do not disturb.”
By punishment: Momo lays claim at the scene of the crime with her lips. Normally, she would bend to your will, take her time; usually, that’s not her style, but that soft side is an exclusivity on days where she can let her walls crumble for a rare moment. Her lips are always sweet, carrying the kind of kisses that would sweep anyone off their feet or rewire their brain. Though, there’s a sense of urgency behind this, as if it was something long overdue.
Her arms slither around your neck, straddling your thigh. You hold her close with one arm while the other acts as a support behind you, leaning back.
She smiles into it, taking ownership. You try to utter a response but it’s swallowed down your throat and her fingers claw deep into the scalp. There’s only one way where this was going: one of you is going to be ruined by the other.
Momo pulls your lip - a slight pinch with her teeth, and your hand shoots for her hip as a sign of restraint. Drawing back with lidded eyes; the gentle swipe of her tongue, savoring the taste. The grasp of your fingers doesn’t faze her at all.
“Holding yourself back, are we?” She asks, fanning her breath across your sloping cheek. Ghosting your head while her arms press inward - pushing up her tits. “I thought you were able to handle this-”
“Oh, I’m sure,” says Momo, settling on top of your hips, inhaling sharply as the pressure from the seat of your pants pulls her head back. “God- you’re gonna drive me insane if you don’t get your fucking bottoms off right now-”
You help her arms up, motion them to the straps of her outfit. She lowers the first layer below her tits; that neat, pink push-up bra would leave you ogling for hours if she just had that by itself. Thankfully, she’s got the bodysuit to her waist, ruffling her hair nicely to her shoulders with a lean to the right.
An opening for the next move: kissing her neck. To that, she presses you in while her other hand grasps her left breast, grinding against your hips while the shivers work their way up her body.
“So eager- and forward,” she breathes, airing a laugh. “Fuck, I’m jealous of Dahyun when you touch her the way you’re touching me-”
You bury your nose into her cleavage, lick the beauty mark above her left tit. Looking up earnestly.
Momo holds an expression over you. Intrigue, for one. Teetering deeper into insanity, as another. Seeing her slack mouth is enough to tell you she couldn’t comprehend just how much missing you had been driving her crazy. She winces when you’re happily biting away at her skin.
“Wait.”
The puckering pop of your lips echoes into the walls of the room.
Momo freezes for a second, which isn’t like her. A smirk breaks from the corner of your lip while you stare up, and she gets thrown off by the person hidden deep beneath your eyes.
Gyrating her hips to yours, her mouth twitches. You lick your lip. Anticipating the next move.
“This poor kitty too stunned to speak?” You ask.
The girl in your lap hovers a hand above your face, her thumb tapping your lip. This is the kind of power that women dream of over a man. It’s one of the few moments that rewires brain chemistry for a second. You lick the pad of her thumb and watch as her brows arch in surprise.
“I could never tell if you right now is for show or it’s actually for the things I want you to do to me,” says Momo, eyes trained when her thumb slips between your lips, unable to move from this position. “Jeez. It’s actually like- really bad. How dangerous you can be.”
“It isn’t just me,” you say.
“No I know, but-” and Momo is caught of guard when you’re catching her off guard with the next move: pulling from the neck and getting those perfect lips of her in the right place - where they belong - with more reverence into the feel and every audible smack getting more addicting than the last. Her palm rests on your cheek and your hand slides down the firm line of her back, stopping at the one of the two dimples right above her ass. It’s an unrefined tension, a forsaken oath left unspoken; the mere infidelity of it should be enough to make you single after this. Though, Momo sucks on your lower lip and you’re sure that the pit in your stomach deepens; a cable waiting to snap; when it does, it’ll flare up every nerve end in your body, making the synapses grow more desperate.
“But what?” It’s a taunt, and it’s all certain this girl is going to lose it.
“You’re never easy,” she sighs, in a gruff tone that rolls nicely with her register in all the things sultry and begging for more. Her nails scratch the ends of hair behind your neck. “It hasn’t even been that long since our last meeting and you’re driving me insane.”
Your hand makes its way down her bodysuit in response to her rocking body as her mouth stays to your neck. The fabric’s gotten more damp compared to a few minutes ago, but the friction of your fingers will soon add to that. It’s similar to operating through fog - figuring out where her cute little clit is and when you guess the general area: right above the wetness, you press down and Momo sighs in relief.
“Haven’t even got to the best part yet,” you groan, “and you’re already dripping before this is even off.”
“It isn’t just me,” Momo says in a subtle callback. She lowers the clothing to her waist, revealing that same pink, fluffy bra. Her hand goes back, unclipping it in this well-practiced party trick. You’re left staring again when she pulls it from the middle band and out, letting it fall to the ground. At the same time, your tongue immediately darts for her nipple. “I can tell you’ve been wanting this too-”
With little control she had left, Momo slips your hand inside her body suit in guidance, where your fingertips swipe against her folds, and that makes you notice one thing:
“No panties during the runway performance? Oh you had this planned all along, huh?”
Momo bears no response, a crack in her facade when your mouth stays on her breast and keeps your fingers still to her shifting hips. She’s already gotten you this close away from Dahyun that every second spent with you is an advantage.
Her whole body shivers in pleasure. The only language she can speak at this time is in tongues, mixed with sighs and pants and pleas and more moans.
You’ve got your whole hand between her legs beneath the bodysuit, and how she wished it was your mouth instead, but she’ll be content with just this. These circling fingers and slipping between her folds, her thighs press against yours, longing for that release.
As if she deliberately planned (which is unlikely, but the possibility isn’t entirely out of the question) for you to come all this way to see her. With that cryptic text and that extremely fuckable outfit that the stylists have blessed her in. But you know well that Momo (most of the time) doesn’t think things through. For this instance, you’re convinced that has.
“Please, baby. More-” she begs. And her yelp is a nice noise to her when you bite on her nipple.
“I’m gonna-”
“Mhm?”
“You’re gonna make me fucking cum-”
The desperation rises with her body, only staying with your gravity and grasp on her. Her mind can’t keep up with your efforts. Once the moment of bliss finally strikes through her body, she hardly contains the sensation tearing through her body.
Momo’s cunt quivers as she cums on your fingers, seething a breath between her teeth when the butt of your palm grinds against her sensitive clit. Her forehead rests on the top of yours as she hunches forward, prolonging the orgasm you’ve gifted her.
“Look into my eyes, Momo.” You order. “I wanna see my pretty girl’s face after cumming.”
She lifts her head- slightly. Oh, you know she’ll listen to the praise when she deserves it. This girl heaving and parting her mouth low as she feels your fingers slip inside for more fun. Momo’s quick to get her arms wrapped around your head, suffocating you with her tits. Not that you’re complaining, of course. But her weight might tip you over if you get caught in the moment.
Then, you noticed she hasn’t complied with the instruction. Which earned her a slap to her thigh, and her skin newly marked red.
“Does my slut have to be told what to do again?” You tell her, harshly kissing her neck and leaving an obvious bruise with your teeth.
Momo, as eager to inflate that being shrouded deep in your mind, nursing that ego. She listens.
There’s this state of elation that’s experienced with her, how much control you’re willing to give her with cuffs around your wrists, only to switch it around and have a makeshift bind made with your belt with her hands behind her back as you pound her into the mattress. Or, slapping her face with fingers wrapped to her neck. It can get raw, then sensitive: she’s a walking sex magnet and it wouldn’t take much for you to bury your cock deep into her wanting, open cunt in the exact way she wants you to.
There’s a keepsake in that regard. As fucked up as it may be.
That street goes both ways.
“Baby- mmmm, fuck.” A rasping Momo breathes, trying to stay composed as you mark up her neck. Lathering up a layer of spit on her porcelain skin, mixed with the blemishes of reddish pink spread across her chest. “I can’t wait anymore.”
“Use your words, bun,” you play into the exchange, hushing her with another assault of love-bitten kisses.
She cups your face, biting her lower lip. You see her eyes flick back to the head of the bed. For a second, you’d want to follow her words - her orders - but you’re reminded: she made you come to her. Now she has to work for her long awaited reward.
“I thought you were capable of using your mouth to speak, hon.” You taunt, lightly grabbing her chin and pulling her closer. “Unless you’re trying to use that mouth for something else.”
“Yes. Yes,” answers a needy Momo. “If you let me- I can only say please-”
“Then get on the bed.” Is what you tell her.
You’ve never seen Momo’s eyes light up with so much excitement before. Then again, you’ve caught that same spark in many moments: like the first time she lured you away from Dahyun and had you moaning her name not long after. It should’ve been the last time, too. Then, it started to turn into a pastime.
She shifts from your lap to the front of the bed. Each movement of her arms and legs, so meticulous and fluid which fit her dancing appearance. Resting nicely on her stomach and head perched to her elbows. The back of her bodysuit is in view from above, and it highlights her ass exceptionally. You can’t help but stare again.
“Someone’s been waiting.”
“Can’t you tell?” Momo asks, sticking her tongue out. “It was all I could think about earlier.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m serious!” She exclaims, leaning forward and burying her nose against the fly, inhaling. “Besides, you were getting hard while I was grinding earlier. And god I can even catch the smell. Your pants aren’t even off yet.”
“Mind giving me a hand, sweetheart?”
Momo, dutiful as ever, reaches for the seat of your pants as you get your hands to the belt buckle. Like a practiced duet between two performers: she’s got your zipper between her teeth and her shimmering eyes can be seen in the dimmed hotel lights.
One layer, then the next. You keep your hands to Momo’s as she bites your waistband and pulls it down after. With your cock springing out to her cheek, brushing the tip of her nose to the underside and lowering her eyelids as she lets her face get the feel for it.
“Finally,” she breathes, thoroughly examining the length. Her personal (and favorite) toy. You can recount the number of stories she’s told you, fantasizing how much you wreck her with this one ‘charm’. It’s too known; all too well.
The tip of her tongue sweeps the base, and you feel those plump lips kiss a vein. On varying occasions, Momo would get right into it, forcing your cock deep into her throat and letting you fill that hole for your own pleasure. Though tonight, she wanted to savor what she’d been missing out on for the past couple weeks. Despite being the unlikeliest characteristic, Momo takes you by surprise again and again.
Her lips and tongue only spare you a mere second or two before they’re back on the skin of your shaft. Coating it with her spit and getting you wanting for more.
Soon, she’s got the lovely duo of her finger and thumb, barely wrapping the root. You let go of her other hand and she cradles your balls. Heavy, you hear her say, but most of it is muffled as she presses a nose right at the middle ridge.
God, it’s an act in reverence. Your knees buckle at the weight of her touch. She eggs on with the teasing: only slipping the head of your cock between those thick, pouty lips and letting the tip of her tongue slash the underside that straightens the length on reflex. Momo’s edged you like this before, in a litmus test of sorts. Always wanting to try new things and each and every single of them has nearly killed you (and her both) in the process.
“Momo-” you slip, palming her cheek as she sucks harshly on the underline. “We’ll be here all night if you keep this up.”
“That’s the plan,” she laughs, grazing her teeth with that damned smile. Legimately: fuck her. And you will. “Just wanted to show you how much I missed my toy.”
“You’ve got a problem.”
The girl at your cock spits on it. “Could say the same thing to you.”
You hold her jaw, guiding the cock with her hand attached to the right angle. “Shh,” you coo, biting your lip because the mere thought of holding back would only make it worse. “Be a good girl and open up for me.” At this point, Momo makes a gaze when she looks up, and it’s a similar gaze that she has for concept teasers: the blown-out-smoky-eyes kind of expression, like she’s aware of the effect she has on people. The ungodly things that they would do to get a girl like her in this position. Here’s the worst part of it all: she’s right between your legs and fingertips, and she smirks. Lowering her jaw - and only her jaw.
Slotting your cock into her slack mouth is utter perfection. The girl gags for a second; expected, and you adjust with a slight pull back out. Adjusting her head, she sleeves your cock into her throat again, and it’s effortless.
Her hands are back to the sides of your thighs, nose to your groin. The sound she emits from her vocal chords onto your cock is heavenly. A struggle of breath mixed with a cough, which only led to soaking the length more with spit.
You watch her take her time getting used to your length. Holding your breath, flexing the muscles in your stomach. She wants to make sure the tip of your cock is tucked into the deepest part of her mouth, to the point where the rest of the room fades toward blackness, and Momo’s head is the only thing you see in your blurred vision. Yet she looks up, dragging your tip against the inside of her cheek and it’s an image you want to treasure forever.
Bless this girl and her practice; the gag-reflex is practically nonexistent. Sliding you out of her mouth before she finally lets her mouth do the rest of the work.
She hums when your fingers comb her hair in purchase, adding the bonus of gripping where you know her preferred tension. A heavy sigh passes your lips when her tongue sweeps the underside, right where the flick meets the tip of your balls. “My god, Momo. Fuck- just like that,” you rasp, barely keeping it together as your hips buck forward.
Momo gasps for air, taking your shaft and slapping the weeping tip across her wet lips. “Hmm I know you’ve been missing this too. I just can’t help it. You have the greatest cock I have ever seen.”
Cradling her head, she takes care of the rest as she holds you back in her salivating mouth. If the heat was already this good. You could start to imagine how it would feel to be wrapped around her walls in the next few minutes. But for now, the tension and release of her throat contracting and her clenching tongue is good enough. The woman’s brows knead in determination, focused on massaging your cock in the back of her throat.
The only thing that’s keeping you standing is the foot of the bed against your knees. Makes you stand against the tide of Momo’s perfect mouth. She’s having all the fun in the world, keeping her lips where you want them to be and ruining you from the inside out. It’s a practiced rhythm, and you’re palming her neck and cheek; feel the graze of her nose to your waist in a seamless motion.
“Good slut,” you hiss, keeping her head in after there’s an audible click in her throat. There’s that tongue again, flicking in all the ways you love and like.
“Mmfmhf.”
Momo taps your thighs, granting her the ability to breathe again. A thread of spit forms from your tip connecting to her upper lip. She licks it off along with your soaked cock. You discard your blazer and the rest of your dress shirt underneath, toss it off aside for her to wear once all of this is over.
“You’re not done yet, are you-”
She shuts you up with her throat begging for more, burying your cock once more and gripping your thighs ferociously. You hear her mumble a sentence of sorts along the lines of ‘i’m not letting you relax just yet’ but all could be heard is the sloppy suck-licked mixture of her lips and tongue, moaning over your length that spikes the nerves in your muscles.
“Mo-” you barely get out of saying, but Momo mumbles a ‘mhm’ instead and she’s nearly getting you there. “Your fucking mouth, I swear to god-”
The hums and slurps only get louder.
She might just siphon the fun out of this if she doesn’t stop.
And the worst part of it all?
She keeps going.
You grip her jaw and drag yourself out of her face. In doing so, you huff at the graze of her teeth, resisting the slip out to the best of her ability. She loses; you twitch as the tip hits the pad of her tongue and bottom lip, and she smirks.
Her head lowers right beneath your cock. Fixated on the bead of precum peaking at the slit. You see her eyes cross, and she doesn’t stop smiling at the sight of it. Licking it clean off as a small appetizer for her (eventual) hard-earned reward.
“You taste good,” she praises, and you stop her from treating her mouth to your balls.
“I’m done going by your way,” you tell her, patting her cheek to which she bites her lip at the feeling.
“Party pooper. You were enjoying it. I saw your face. How much you missed my filthy mouth.”
“That fucking mouth of yours will kill someone if you don’t control yourself.”
“Why would I have control in the first place?” Momo asks, closely matching your height as she brings herself to her knees on the mattress. “I’d rather have no restraint if it brings out the best in people, no?”
You clutch her neck again, and her hand clasps your wrist. Keeping it there. “You’ve got a fucked up sense of character.”
“Sana calls you ‘daddy’ from time to time,” she replies. “Do you want me to start calling you that as well? Or what are you gonna do about it?”
Momo brings her face closer to yours, just inches away from your lips. Your hand is still attached to her throat. The proximity can lead to another kiss, and it almost gets there - almost. But you push her back to the bed, tug the makeshift leash which is one of her legs, turn her around so her backside is now to your hips. That remarkable ass is all you want to see and hold for days.
“I think I know what I have to do to knock some sense into you,” you say, feeling out the fabric of her bodysuit, stopping at a spot right close to where her seeping cunt resides. She seethes at the feeling of your fingernails finding a hold in the ridges, yelping at the tear of threads that reveal another hole for you to fill.
But it’s met with another surprise-
“C’mon Momo,” you chuckle in disbelief, not because of the image that’s in your eyes, but the fact that she would be the kind of person that would go to such lengths to do it. “You’re telling me you had a buttplug up your ass during the entire performance?”
While you’re trying to come to grips with the sight of her perfect, pretty pink cunt, it’s highlighted with an obvious object protruding Momo’s ass cheeks right above it ; shining with a glossy metallic finish, but it’s Momo-ified to her standards: molded into a heart with her member color of dark pink.
Gratuitously fucked up, could be the best way to describe this girl.
“I wanted to try it out,” Momo responds, wiggling her ass in front of your cock. Her back arches deep as her arms splay flat on the covers. “Nayeon made a bet with me and I lost. That was punishment.” She looks over her shoulder and flicks her hips up and down. A tease that goes on endlessly. “I can see the gears turning in your head, lover boy.”
You puff your cheeks and pull a flat-lipped expression.
“I was gonna keep sending you pictures to spite you. Because you never see them, anyway. Dahyun has you wrapped around her finger as it is.”
“Well then,” you say as you take a knee, eyes full of Momo’s hands on her ass, spreading her plugged pucker and cunt. It’s a gratifying art to admire. The girls you oversee - each of the nine bringing their own charm to the table, masterfully created and tilting your head in angles where your neck might break through all of the melting. She shifts her hips side to side with your fingers attached - you never want to let go. “Consider you have my full attention.”
“Then what are you waiting for-” she spits midway when your tongue gets that first, satisfying lick of her folds. “Ugh. Fucking finally.”
The mere thought of Momo in this state is pure debauchery. None of that could be exemplified with every lap your mouth makes to her sweet pussy. Like she’s a forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden and you can’t help but submit to that low saccharine tone she speaks in: praising and moaning one moment, cursing your being the next if she doesn’t get what she wants.
“For the record,” you're breathing hot over her cunt, biting one of her folds as another taunt. “You rode my face the last time you had a fashion schedule.”
Momo rolls her head around, planted to the comforter. “Yeah, and I had your cock in my hand as a punishment. What about it?”
Your nose fills the space, and the tip of your tongue messes with her clit. She curses again, loudly. Her attitude unravels more and more by the second. It could be enough, but it isn’t.
“How many more times can you say ‘fuck’ in a single sitting, hm? Think you can hold it together while I split you apart?”
“Oh please.” She looks over her shoulder; the curve on her spine only curls further. “I don’t need to answer that for you.”
Right when she tries to rise from the bed, you’re quick to push her back down; take the reins in her hair, and pull. Momo’s eyes flutter in surprise, but it can be easily read that it’s all an act of what she expected of you.
“What does my perfect whore want from me?”
“To bend me over-” followed by an audible slap on her ass, where the first mark of red forms. “And fuck me- fuck me full, again and again. Make me your cumdump and mess up this pretty pussy with your cock.”
God.
God help you.
God help her.
Everything about her is a calling you fail to ignore.
You rest the head of your cock underneath her weeping entrance. She’s close, so close. The restraint is eating away at both of you for holding back still.
Until you carefully weather the worry away, pushing your tip past that first press of her folds. Watching the line of her shoulders tense even tighter at the first thrust. Drag back for good measure, get your bare length wet and ready with her slick, and push harder the second time around.
“Fuck!”
“My god,” you breathe, angle her ass higher at the press of her beck. “Tight.”
Momo’s body follows on its own accord, her walls clenching tight around your shaft. You make do by spreading her legs wider, perch the hips at an angle where you can rut your cock in the deepest part of her cunt; figure out the precision first, then let it be sloppy after. The one-two combo of her ass and pussy will make up for the slack when your brain’s been reduced to mush and all there is to focus on is pounding her enough for the other guests to hear.
You lean forward, let your cock push itself to the hilt by her entrance, reach for her tit and pull.
But the slide out is just as rewarding as thrusting back in. Every pleasurable inch almost makes you think twice on whether you want to take away this sensation from her.
“Baby - ‘swear to god- fuck-”
She shudders when your tip is nestled right between her puffy folds, gasping. Her whole ass wobbles. It’s incredible.
“Atta girl,” you croon. Kissing the line of her back - everything else is blurry but she’s giving you the only lifeline you’ll ever need.
There’s a moment of pride when you push back in again, hard. Momo’s head flicks back in whiplash. Writhing in the feeling a bit considering how long it’s been since she last took your cock, but it’ll come to grips sooner than you think - you know that much.
Every impact you dish out is rebounded well with Momo’s bouncing pair of her cunt and ass moving in a staggered combo: her ass to your hips with her pussy following the next second. You hear her swallow more air as an attempt to shelter the moan rumbling in her throat, but it’s pointless. The anchor your hands have to her hips, resting in the groove where the tops of her thighs meet keeps you in place - a press that pushes her deeper into the mattress beneath. A maneuver that is perfected when Momo’s face is looking down, and her ass is offered up to you; grazing her walls to that sweet spot where the nerves throb a little more roughly.
“Can’t- can’t. ‘m gonna- fucking- sweetie-”
“I’ve got you. I’m here,” you mouth into her shoulder blade. There’s only one thing she wanted you to do: to use her. A far cry in the form of a cryptic message and all you could think about was her immaculate figure and curves flaunted for everyone to see, but she’s yours. Oh, she’s so yours.
Your hand can only support you so much, so the next option to resort on is hooking to her waist, listening to the thick groan when the angle doesn’t change and you’re still rucking that sweet spot where you’ve figuratively killed her over and over. Her knees are about to give too; the press of her ass on your cock makes you throb harder.
Momo’s hand reaches for your neck, sobbing. There’s a laugh mixed into that as well. You can tell her eyes are closed and mind is blown, fucked.
“Like this,” she says, gritting her teeth when you suddenly slow the pace, give her these singular thrusts of your hips: (not) nice and slow. “Fucking use my pussy like this.”
“Yeah? Is this what you wanted?” You manage, caught off guard as her body twists, kissing your lips. “Do you realize how good you look when you’re like that?”
She goes limp, panting. You grind your cock against her walls slowly still; hands canvasing her back and waist, feeling out those same curves you’d want to kiss and lick until she tells you to stop. Then Momo mumbles into the duvet, “i know you love how my pussy takes your cock,” and all you give her is a sigh of disbelief.
You stop your movements as Momo does the work for you, pushing her ass back to your groin and overachieving with a similar wiggle from earlier. The next best thing you can get around by is cupping the swell of her ass, have the skin ripple before you meet her halfway and fuck upwards, watching your cock get coated with her essence even more.
“It’s so fucking thick inside me- jeez.” Momo grits, and every curse she spits is more punctual than the last. “My perfect pussy good enough for you, pretty boy?”
“That fucking mouth of yours,” you spit and your voice is coarse. Matching Momo’s antics.
“Then fuck me more,” she tells you, lips slipping against your cheek. The skin contact is way past electric - getting more and more desperate. “Want you to own this cunt - ‘cause it’s all yours.”
“You have no idea,” and this comes after you bury your dick in the hottest part inside her, make her body stiffen and you’re pushing her further into the mattress. “How absurd you are- this fuckhole, Momo. My god-”
At this point, the front of her body is flushed with the comforter, pinning. An angle where the pressure around your shaft is just at the right level where every slip and drag back would be enough to drop a load inside - it’ll happen, but you struggle to believe how much she clenches even tighter.
“Baby,” breathes Momo. There isn’t much she can do in this position, feeling her cunt full of your cock.
Frankly, she just has to lay there like a good slut. You’re telling her this as the pace gets more primal, reduced to a pure instinct. Momo’s eyes meet yours for a quick second: blown out and past the threshold of the first of many orgasms you’ve fucked her through.
Only to watch her hide and muffle her voice into the pillow. This version of Momo is where you like her best. Belittled and disregarded as a pure vessel of pleasure. Get off with her holes and claim her for the night before reality sets in come the next daylight.
Her moans and sighs clash inconsistently. Your hand flushes with hers as it grips the covers. “So good; so fucking good - I can’t believe this cock isn’t even mine. What the fuck - you selfish motherfucker. Fucking me like you mean it because it’s too addicting to forget-”
Well, yes.
She’s right.
“My lovely doll getting her pussy stretched out? Cute.” And your mind is trailing to a knife’s edge, watch as a layer of white forms on the top of your cock. Giving you more finesse into the slip in and out in one continuous flow. “You’re just saying nonsense, hun.”
“Please- please-”
She’s beyond savoring the feeling. The only reason you’re here in the first place was to get her off. Yet that sword is piercing her as it is the same for you.
“Breathe for me, Mo,” you murmur, licking her ear. “Lemme fuck this cunt for you, okay? Relax.”
Momo’s hand places yours to her face, sucking on a finger to satiate her heaving exhales. Her mouth parts with the tilt up and hook to her neck. “Need you, need your cum. Please, baby. It’s yours. So yours. This fucking cunt is all yours.”
“Yeah?”
“Want you to burst,” she sputters. On the precipice of falling off that edge even more.
Suddenly, you stare at Momo’s back as the rest of her body tenses, reaching that high. The shrieks she makes aren't like her, but that’s all credit to your hard work. You notice the buttplug again, just right in the middle where it covers her puckered asshole, blocking it. She tenses even more when you press on it, and her whole figure just spazzes out of control.
“Fu-fuck! Right there! Right there, right there, right there-”
“Where should I-”
Momo grabs your arm as her cunt’s bottomed out; the flex of your embedded cock could only prolong the release as much as it could, and the seized muscles in your hips and legs keeps you still. “Inside,” she whispers, “nowhere else.”
But-
You have other ideas.
In a fast act, you pull the buttplug out of Momo’s ass. Her hole swollen and opened up well once it was deprived of metal bead that she’s been hiding. You pull your cock and aim it at the spot above; the first rope going through and the second immediately after. Part of your brain short-circuts and snaps back into consciousness as your load gets pumped into her uncovered asshole.
“Oh my god,” Momo gasps in pure disbelief, biting her lip and humming at the threads of white being plastered in her asscheeks. “You dirty fucking boy,” she says coyly.
You gaze on her face and watch the flush of pink come back to her, then fixated on the sudden wave of heat all over the head of your cock, trying to stay the course in each sinking inch as Momo’s ass takes in all the length. You’re leaking white from the tip still, and it’s equally cruel when you’re spreading her pussy lips below and circling it to overstimulate.
“Fuck- Momo. Your ass - holy shit.”
“Can’t help yourself to gape me,” she shudders. “Fucking your cum into my perfect little ass; never wanting to pull out?”
But your brain can only handle so much of the new sensations to your nerves. Your cock is bathed in white, vanished into the lovely canvas of Momo’s irresistible ass. When you eventually slip your cock out of her ass (and press into her folds for good measure), your eyes kind of just- stay there as the first glob leaks out of her cheeks, dripping onto the covers.
Momo lays there, zoning out as you fall right next to her on the bed, fingers grazing the tip of her chin. “You - have got serious issues.”
She laughs at you. “Yeah, but what else is new?” Kissing one of your knuckles - maybe two. You’ve got a thumb to her plump lips and there isn’t really anything else left to say about it. “I don’t mean what I say when you’re railing me from behind.”
“Slut,” is what you end with.
“Oh but you love me.”
–
(In standard Momo fashion:
You’re hiding a smile when she pushes you out of the hotel room. Staring at your disheveled hair and rumpled dress shirt with your blazer hung to your shoulder. She didn’t even bother tying up that robe, and the tits and waist are like another pair of eyes lasering you as well.
“What if someone sees you like that?”
“What if they see us?” Momo huffs, unimpressed. “That article is gonna burn one of our careers and it is for damn sure it isn’t yours.”
Looking around, there’s no one to be seen down the long winding hallway. “Be lucky that no one’s watching.”
“Don’t fucking jinx it?”
“Only saying it if you want to see me again.”
Momo, being Momo, walks out on her tiptoes. She’s good at faking the part of being the calm-hearted, pretty girl where you know it’s completely the opposite. You’ve told her many times. Everyone’s told her the exact same thing - though she does it anyway.
She lifts herself up to kiss your lips. No need for her nor your hands as they’re bound to your back, since she’s got that natural rule to always be gravitated by you.
“I could’ve sworn I sent you flowers before the show, no?”
The girl pouts, humming a long tone. “I’m just messing with you. Of course we did.”
“Just making sure,” you smile.
Momo goes for one more kiss - because she can’t help herself. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
You nod, because the assurance is more sobering than the guilt. Even with the girl who has the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever laid on, she still manages to create some sort of lifeline:
“Thanks for coming over. And-” right as she steps back into the room for the night, there’s a pause with her hand on the door. As if there was something holding her back. To which she says:
I like each position RV member prefers when they want to be bred, can you also make one for twice ?
Nayeon
Nayeon pushes you onto your back, straddling your hips with that bright, teasing grin. She prefers cowgirl when she wants to be bred. She controls the pace, grinds down on you slowly at first to feel every inch stretch her pussy.
You grip her waist as she sinks onto you, her tight heat swallowing your cock whole.
"Fill me up."
She rocks her hips in circles, breasts bouncing with each drop. Her nails rake your chest, urging you deeper. She leans forward, long hair curtaining your faces, kissing you messy while she rides harder.
"I want your cum so bad. Breed me right here."
You thrust up to meet her, hitting that spot that makes her gasp. Her pace quickens, thighs trembling as she chases her high.
"Don't pull out."
She demands, her pussy clenching around you. You feel her pulse, her body begging. One final grind and she has you spilling deep inside her cunt, flooding her. She stays seated, rocking gently to keep every drop in, smirking down at you.
"Good boy."
Jeongyeon
Jeongyeon pulls you close on the couch with her legs, until you're on top in classic missionary. She loves the weight of you pinning her, legs hooked over your shoulders for that deep angle when breeding is all she craves. You slide in slow, watching her eyes flutter shut.
"Harder."
She murmurs, hands on your back urging you on. Her walls grip tight as you thrust deep, pelvis grinding against her clit with every stroke.
"Breed me...give it all to me."
Her voice cracks with need. You pound steadily, feeling her pussy soak your cock more with each thrust. Her fingers dig into your shoulders.
"Deeper… I want to feel you cum inside."
You angle just right, hitting her cervix, and she arches, moaning low. Her cunt rhythmically tries to milk you for all you have. You burry yourself deep and shoot pulsing hot ropes into her. She holds you there, legs trembling.
"Stay… don't let a drop leak out."
Momo
Momo gets on all fours and arches her back perfectly. Doggy is her favourite for breeding because it lets you pin her down completely. Your hips flush against hers as you drive in from behind. You press over her, chest to her back, sliding your cock deep into her in one smooth thrust. She moans into the pillow, pushing back to meet you.
"Breed me like this… fill me up."
Her ass jiggles with each hard snap of your hips. You grip her waist, pounding relentlessly. The angle lets you go impossibly deep. She reaches back, spreading her cheeks wider.
"Right there...cum inside me."
Her body shakes as you grind against her spot. Her tight pussy pulls you over the edge. You groan, spilling thick and hot seed into her, flooding her cunt. She collapses forward, keeping you buried, rocking back lazily. Momo feels too full to say a word.
Sana
Sana loves spooning turned breeding. Just lying on her side, you behind her, one leg hooked over yours for easy access. She craves the closeness when she wants to be filled. You slide in from behind, arm around her waist, hand cupping her breast. She sighs happily, pushing back.
"Breed me slow… make it last."
You thrust lazy but deep, grinding circles inside her. She turns her head for messy kisses.
"I want your baby..."
Her hand guides yours between her legs, rubbing her clit as you pump steadily.
The build is torturous. Her moans are soft and cute. She makes her pussy clench around your cock, teasing you.
"Now… breed me now."
You speed up, burying yourself to the hilt inside her, and explode, pumping her full of cum, pulse after pulse.
Jihyo
Jihyo always demands you fuck her in a mating press whenever she's ovulating. Her legs folded back, pressing her tits together, knees by her ears, her pussy so close to her mouth, you could switch between both holes whenever you wanted.
Now, you pin her wrists above her head, your body weight folding her in half, thrusting deep and hard into her wet pussy.
"Take it all."
You groan, eyes locked on hers. Her body rocks with each powerful stroke, breasts bouncing.
"Fill me up. I need your cum so bad..."
She clenches tight, urging you on. You grind against her cervix, making her cry out.
Jihyo orgasms first. Her walls spasm around your cock, pulling your own release out of you. You flood her pussy with your cum, groaning as she milks every drop. Your cock paints her inner walls white, until she's almost overflowing. But with her hips raised like this, gravity helps you with keeping her full. Even after you pull out, she keeps her legs up, smirking at you.
"Not wasting any."
Mina
Mina prefers something slow, just like Sana. You sit cross-legged, her in your lap facing you, legs wrapped around your waist. It's intimate, eye-contact heavy when she wants to be bred softly but deeply.
She sinks down slowly, arms around your neck.
"Breed me… please."
You rock together, grinding deep, her forehead against yours. Her breaths hitch with each roll. Your entire cock is inside her snug pussy, barely moving. Just enough for both of you to feel a new level of pleasure.
"Inside… all of it."
You thrust up gently, hands on her ass guiding her.
She trembles in your lap, clenching to draw out your cum as she feels your cock pulsating inside her. You spill thick ropes of cum into her tight pussy, filling her completely, until tiny streaks of your semen start to leak out around your cock.
She stays seated, kissing you tenderly.
"It feels so warm…"
Dahyun
Dahyun moans as she continues to ride you in reverse. Her back is facing you. Her ass bounces as she rides your cock. She loves the control she has over you and the feeling of you enjoying the view.
She grinds eagerly, hands on your thighs.
"Cum in me...breed me good."
You grip her hips, thrusting up hard. Her moans turn needy, but the sound of her ass hitting your lap drowns them out.
"Deeper… fill me up."
She grinds down, circling her hips to feel you throb. Your hands wander to her ass, squeezing her cheeks. Dahyun's walls pulse around your shaft, and you can't hold it in a second longer. You let yourself spill your cum into her pussy. She doesn't stop moving, coaxing every single drop out of your body, until someone knocks on the door of her bedroom.
"Be there in a minute."
She calls out, before turning her head to look over her shoulder at you.
"What are you gonna do these next couple of hours, knowing your cum is filling my pussy while I'm at dinner with the girls?"
Chaeyoung
Chaeyoung loves to get carried around while you fuck her. Probably because of your size difference. She's so small in your arms, you can just pin her against a wall and breed her pussy. Her legs are locked around your waist, you holding her up for raw, urgent breeding. You thrust up hard into her, her back against the cool surface of the wall of Twice's dance practice room.
"Breed me rough."
She pants, nails in your shoulders. You are able to let go with one hand and move it up her body. Chaeyeong's eyes are wide open. The fact that you can carry her with one arm has her pussy dripping wet. Your free hand now slowly wraps itself around her throat. Each slam of your cock into her pussy makes her gasp.
"Cum inside your little fleshlight."
She whimpers, her entire body begging you to use her as a cum dump. You pound into her relentlessly, her body bouncing.
You unload deep insider her small body, groaning into her ear. She clings around you, her legs locked as she's helplessly pinned between you and the wall, unable to do much but take your load.
"Don't drop me."
She sighs and you're unsure if she's afraid you'll let her fall, or if she just wants to keep your cum locked inside her.
Tzuyu
Tzuyu loves how big your cock feels when she is lying on her back, both her legs over one of your shoulders. Her pussy squeezes you just a little tighter like that. And it enables you to use only one hand to hold her legs together, while the other reaches down to admire her smooth thighs, or play with her tits.
Right now, you even take it a step further by making her cross her legs in the air as you slide in slow. She bites her lip, eyes softly looking up at you with pure love.
"Breed me… please."
You thrust deeper, as a steady rhythm starts to build. Her hands clutch your arm.
"I'm already so full. I need it. Please..."
You angle for her g-spot, making her arch odff the mattress.
Tzuyu orgasms silently, trembling, milking your cock. Unable to hold back, you spill your cum deep inside her pussy. You stay buried there, both of you holding eye contact as Tzuyu feels your cum filling her womb.
You've heard about Hirai Momo before you ever meet her. Everybody has. She's the girl who allegedly crashed the campus WiFi because too many guys were looking her up at the same time. The girl who got asked out fourteen times during freshman orientation. The girl whose communications professor once stopped mid-lecture because she walked in late and he lost his train of thought.
She's also the girl who's failing three out of five classes and needs a tutor.
That's you. Wednesday afternoons, fifty bucks an hour, private study room in the library basement. You need the money. She needs a miracle.
You're about to need one too.
• • •
The clock on the wall reads 4:22 PM. Twenty-two minutes past the agreed time. You've reorganized the flashcards twice, reread the chapter summaries you typed up last night at one in the morning, and now you're just sitting here, staring at the study room, waiting for her.
You need this gig. Fifty bucks an hour to teach rich kids things they'll immediately forget. It pays for your half of rent, your ramen budget, and occasionally a beer that you drink alone while rereading Freud. You're living the dream.
The door swings open at 4:23. Hirai Momo walks in like she's arriving at a party instead of an academic intervention. She's got her hair down today, long and dark and shiny. Her skin has this warm golden glow to it, probably because she’s out in the open more than she is stuck in air-conditioned study rooms. Large brown eyes spaced just enough to give her that harmless, slightly airheaded innocence. Full lips glossed in something pink and slightly sticky-looking.
And then there's... the rest of her. Momo is built like every heterosexual man's fever dream compressed into five-foot-four of absolute structural devastation. She's wearing a cropped white top that sits tight across her chest - and her chest is, to use a clinical term, ridiculous. The fabric stretches across her breasts, and printed right there, right across the fullest part where your eyes absolutely should not be lingering, is the word THICC in sparkly pink letters. Like a label. Like a declaration. Like a challenge from God to test your professionalism.
Below that, a pleated miniskirt that looks more like a belt. Her thighs are thick and toned (she dances. You’ve definitely come across some of her TikToks, and don’t worry, it’s not your fault. Blame the algorithm), and she's wearing white sneakers with little platform soles that make her legs look even longer than they already do.
She drops her bag on the table with a thud and collapses into the chair across from you.
"Sorry I'm late," she chirps. "I was getting boba and the line was so long. Oh my God, you should've seen it."
"Fascinating." You slide the stack of flashcards toward her. "Chapter seven. Behavioral conditioning. We talked about this last week."
"Right. Yeah. Totally." She picks one up, squints at it, then puts it back down. "I remember. It's the thing with the dogs."
"Pavlov. Yes."
"Love that for him."
This is your life. You went through three years of a psychology program to sit in a windowless study room explaining Pavlov to a girl who once asked you if Sigmund Freud was "that guy from the Avengers."
(He is not. You checked, just to be sure, because Momo has a way of making you doubt your own reality.)
"Okay," you push on, pointing to the first section in the textbook. "So classical conditioning. The basic framework is stimulus, response, reinforcement. You need to understand the difference between positive and negative reinforcement for the exam."
Momo nods along. Her eyes are pointed at the book. Her pen is in her hand. For about forty-five seconds, you almost believe she's paying attention.
Then you notice she's drawing little hearts in the margin of her notebook. Pink ink. Tiny, loopy hearts with even tinier smiley faces inside them.
"Momo."
"Hm?"
"The book is here." You tap the page. "The hearts can wait."
"Sorry! I'm listening, I swear." She straightens up, tucks her hair behind one ear. Her earring catches the fluorescent light and you notice it's shaped like a peach. You're not surprised. "Okay, so. Positive reinforcement is like... when you give someone a treat for being good?"
"Broadly, yes."
"And negative is when you punish them?"
"No. That's punishment. Negative reinforcement is the removal of an aversive stimulus to increase behavior."
She stares at you blankly for a solid four seconds. "Say that again but in human."
You take a slow breath. "If you have a headache and you take an aspirin and the headache goes away, you're more likely to take aspirin next time. The removal of the pain reinforces the behavior."
"Oh! That makes sense." She beams like you've just unlocked the secrets of the universe for her. Then she looks down at her notebook, writes something, and turns it toward you. She's written: asprin = no more ouchie = do it again.
It's misspelled. The i in aspirin is missing. But the concept is correct, and despite everything, you feel a flicker of something that might be professional satisfaction.
"Good enough," you concede.
"Yay!" She claps her hands together. Her chest bounces with the motion and you look at the ceiling like there's something extremely important up there.
You keep going, working through the chapter section by section. Momo's attention span lasts about three to four minutes at a stretch before she starts fidgeting, playing with her hair, checking her phone under the table (she thinks you can't tell, but you can), or asking questions that have nothing to do with the material.
"Do you think pigeons have feelings?"
"Momo, we're talking about operant conditioning."
"Yeah, but Skinner used pigeons, right? That's sad. What if the pigeons didn't want to be in the experiment?"
"The pigeons didn't file a complaint."
"Maybe they couldn't. Maybe that's the real tragedy."
You are so tired.
After another ten minutes of this, Momo lets out a long, dramatic sigh. She pushes the textbook away from her and drops her pen. Leans back in her chair and stares at you with those big, ridiculous eyes.
"I'm not doing this," she declares, gesturing at the carefully organized spread of materials in front of her. The flashcards, the chapter summaries, the color-coded study guide you spent two hours on. "Can't you just, like, write my paper for me?"
"That's not what tutoring is, Momo."
"But it could be."
"It literally cannot."
"You're really smart, though. You could write it in like an hour, probably. And it would be good. I've seen your notes. They're, like, annoyingly organized."
You set your pen down with the slow, measured patience of a man who has considered several career changes in the last hour alone. "Momo. The whole point of me being here is to help you learn the material yourself. That's what your parents are paying for. I'm supposed to guide you through the concepts so that you can—"
"What if I let you fuck me?"
"What?"
"Like, I'll have sex with you if you do my homework." She leans forward, chin in her hands, elbows on the table. The motion pushes her breasts together and the word THICC warps slightly across the compressed fabric. "That's fair, right?"
You choke. Literally choke. There is no liquid in your mouth and you still manage to choke on nothing but oxygen and sheer disbelief. Your face goes hot, a full-body flush that starts at your neck and crawls up to your ears.
"That's— you can't just— Momo, that is not—" You're gesturing with both hands. You don't know what the gestures mean. Neither does she.
"What?" She blinks, tilting her head to one side. Her hair falls over her shoulder and she looks at you with total, unbothered confusion. "Is that a no?"
"It's a— I'm your tutor. There's a professional— there are boundaries, and ethical considerations, and—"
"Are you gay?"
"WHAT?"
"It's totally cool if you are!" She holds her hands up, palms out. "My friend Sana is gay. Well, she says she's 'exploring,' but she literally only talks about this girl Mina, so I think she's figured it out. Anyway, no judgment."
"I'm not gay, Momo!"
"Then what's the problem?" She's not teasing. She's not playing coy. She genuinely, truly, fundamentally does not understand why you're sitting here looking like you've been electrocuted. "This is how I've gotten through school. Guys do stuff for me and I do stuff for them. It's, like, an exchange. I need passing grades. You probably need... I don't know, what do you need?"
"Therapy, apparently."
"Is that expensive? Because I could also pay you, but I already spent my allowance on boba and these earrings." She flicks the peach-shaped earring. "They were on sale, though."
You sit there for a long, long moment. Somewhere in the library, someone is printing something. The world continues to function normally while yours tilts on its axis.
She watches you, patient and curious. Her lips are slightly parted, the gloss catching the light. Her legs are crossed under the table and one sneaker bobs up and down rhythmically. She doesn't look seductive on purpose. That's the worst part. She's just sitting there, being Momo, and it's devastating in a way that intentional seduction could never be.
"This is..." You rub your hands over your face. "This is really how you've been passing your classes?"
"I mean, some guys just wanted nudes. Which is way easier, honestly. But yeah." She shrugs, one shoulder lifting and dropping. "Everybody wins."
Nobody wins, you think. That's not what winning looks like. But you don't say that because you're too busy losing an argument with your own conscience.
"I can't."
"You keep saying that but you also keep looking at my boobs, so."
(Yeah. She's not wrong.)
"Momo, if anyone found out—"
"Who's gonna find out? I'm not gonna tell anyone." She rolls her eyes. "I'm not stupid."
(Debatable, but you keep that thought internal.)
She leans forward again, and the smell of her hits you. Sweet, peach and warmth. Her eyes are steady on yours and for the first time today, she looks completely focused.
"Look. You write my papers. I come over, we hook up, everyone's happy. I get to stay enrolled, you get to..." She gestures at you, all of you, with one hand. "Have fun. You look like you haven't had fun in, like, years. No offense."
"Some taken."
"I'm just being honest." She taps her pen against her lower lip. "So? Deal?"
The smart thing to do is say no. The right thing to do is say no. The professional, ethical, morally responsible thing to do is to stand up, pack your bag, and report this conversation to the tutoring center coordinator.
You look at Momo. She tilts her head, that little confused-puppy tilt that she does. The light catches her cheekbone. The word THICC glitters on her chest.
"Not in the library," you murmur.
She blinks. Then her face breaks into a grin so wide and bright it actually hurts to look at. "Wait, really? Oh my God, yay!"
"Do not 'yay' this. This is not a 'yay' situation."
"It's totally a yay situation." She's already pulling out her phone, typing something. "Okay so when do you want to— oh wait, should I shave first? Some guys are weird about that."
"Momo. Please stop talking."
"Right. Okay. So mysterious." She mimes zipping her lips, then immediately unzips them. "But seriously, when? Because I have a paper due Thursday."
You start packing up the textbooks. The flashcards you spent an hour making. The color-coded study guide that no one will ever use. "I'll text you," you mutter.
"Cool." She stands up, slings her bag over one shoulder. Pauses at the door, looks back at you with those enormous brown eyes, and hits you with a smile that has probably ended lesser men. "Thanks. You're, like, really nice. Most tutors are super boring."
She leaves. The door clicks shut behind her. The room keeps the scent of peach and bad decisions. You sit there for a full minute, staring at the wall. Then you pull out your phone and open the campus job board, just to see what else is available. Data entry. Cafeteria dishwasher. Overnight security at the rec center.
None of them pay fifty an hour. None of them come with a Hirai Momo attached.
You close the app, grab your bag, and walk out into the sad afternoon light, already hating yourself a little. Your phone buzzes before you reach the parking lot:
hiii its momo!! 🍑 ur place thursday?? ill bring snackssss
You stare at the screen. Three S's. A peach emoji. This is your life now.
You type back: Thursday works. And it's "you're," not "ur."
lol ok nerd 😘
You pocket your phone, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and keep walking.
• • •
You finish writing the last line of Momo's media ethics essay. Two thousand words on the moral responsibilities of mass communication in the digital age. You reread the thesis statement, check the citations, adjust a comma. It's solid B+ work - good enough to pass, not so good that anyone would suspect she didn't write it.
Media ethics. You just wrote a paper about media ethics so you could get laid. The irony doesn't just burn. It cremates.
You save the file, close your laptop, and look around your apartment.
It's bad. Not dirty, exactly, but aggressively neglected. The couch has a dent in the shape of your body. There's a coffee mug on the counter from two days ago with a brown ring at the bottom. Your bookshelf is the only thing that looks maintained - alphabetized, organized by subject - and you realize that says something about you that you'd rather not examine.
You spend the next forty minutes doing a speed-clean that borders on psychotic. Dishes in the dishwasher. Counters wiped. Bathroom scrubbed with a focus on the toilet and sink because you have priorities, if questionable ones. You change your sheets - when did you last change your sheets? (don't answer that), shove the pile of laundry into the closet, and light a candle that you bought six months ago and never used. It smells like "coastal breeze," which smells like nothing found in nature.
The knock comes at 6:14. You open the door and there she is: hair pulled into a high ponytail, hoop earrings, a tight pink top that and denim shorts that could double as underwear. She's holding a paper bag.
"Hi! I brought snacks." She lifts the bag. "Gummy bears, Hot Cheetos, and those chocolate things that look like mushrooms? I forget what they're called."
"Chocorooms."
"Yes! Those." She walks in past you and looks around your apartment the way someone looks at a museum exhibit they don't understand. Her eyes move from the bare walls to the second-hand couch to the single lamp on the floor that you never bought a table for. "This is where you live?"
"Last time I checked."
"It's so..." She searches for the word. "Empty. Do you not have, like, stuff?"
"I have stuff. I have books."
"Books aren't stuff. Books are the worst invention of mankind." She sets the snack bag on the counter, then turns to you with her hands on her hips. "Where are your posters? Your plants? A rug, at least?"
“I don't need a rug.”
She shakes her head with the genuine pity of someone whose parents probably furnished her apartment with a decorator. "We need to get you things. This is sad."
"I appreciate your concern for my interior design."
"You're welcome!"
(She missed the sarcasm. She always misses the sarcasm.)
There's a beat of silence where the reality of why she's here settles between you. Momo, apparently operating on a script she's run before, reaches down and grabs the hem of her top and starts pulling it up over her stomach, over her ribs, the fabric catching on the swell of her chest before she tugs it higher - and you see her bra, pale pink with a tiny bow between the cups, her breasts pushed up and pressed together, full and round and straining against the lace.
"Whoa, wait." You step forward and catch her hands, stopping the shirt halfway over her head. She's standing in your living room with her arms up and her stomach bare, looking at you through a gap in the bunched fabric.
"What? Isn't this what you wanted?"
"Yes, but—" You pull her shirt back down for her, smoothing it over her waist and feeling like a complete idiot for stopping the hottest girl on campus from undressing in your apartment. "Can we at least pretend this isn't a business transaction?"
She blinks. Drops her arms. Tilts her head with that look she gets when you use words with more than three syllables. "Okay? How do we do that?"
"I don't know. Normal things. I'll get you a drink. We'll talk. Like humans."
"We are humans."
"I'm aware. Thank you."
You open the fridge. The options are water, orange juice that might be expired, and a six-pack of cheap beer. She picks the orange juice. You pour it into the one clean glass you have and hand it to her. She takes a sip and doesn't comment on the taste, which either means it's fine or her palate is as undiscriminating as her academic standards.
You grab a beer for yourself. Take a long pull. Momo leans against the counter, ankles crossed, sipping juice and watching you.
"So," she starts. "Do we, like, talk about our feelings now? Is that the pretending part?"
"It's not pretending if it's real conversation, Momo."
"Okay." She nods seriously. "Um. I feel like gummy bears. Can I open the gummy bears?"
Close enough.
She eats gummy bears on your couch while telling you about her dance practice and a girl in her class who keeps copying her outfits. You sit next to her, nursing your beer, half-listening and half-watching the way she talks with her hands, the way she tucks her feet under herself, the way she licks sugar off her fingers without any awareness of what that looks like.
This entire situation is a textbook case of operant conditioning (there it is, the irony again) combined with what any psych professor would call instrumentalized intimacy. Momo has been taught, through years of reinforcement, that her body is currency. That sex is a transaction. That her value to other people is directly proportional to what she's willing to do with her clothes off. It's a conditioned behavioral pattern rooted in objectification, and she doesn't even see it because it's been normalized for her entire adult life.
She's eating gummy bears and talking about dance practice and she has no idea that she's a case study.
"You're staring at me," she observes.
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I'm hot." She grins. "Are you ready, or do we need more pretending?"
"It's not—" You exhale. "Yeah. Okay."
You stand up. She stands up. You lead her down the short hallway to your bedroom and push the door open. Momo walks in and does a slow rotation, taking in the full-size bed with its freshly changed sheets, the desk buried in textbooks, the single framed photo of a mountain you bought at a thrift store because the wall felt too bare.
"You literally live like a monk," she announces.
"Monks take vows of celibacy, so not for long."
"What's celibacy?"
"Not having sex."
"Oh." A pause. "That sounds terrible."
She sits on the edge of your bed, bouncing once to test the mattress, and looks up at you. The light from the window catches her face, the slope of her nose, the fullness of her lips, those wide dark eyes. She's waiting for you. Patient. Practiced. Ready to go through the motions she's gone through with however many guys came before you.
And it makes you irrationally angry.
You sit next to her. Cup her face with one hand, thumb resting against her cheekbone. She blinks, not used to this part. You can tell.
"What are you doing?" she murmurs.
"Being a human."
You kiss her. Slow. Not the let's-get-this-over-with kind she's probably expecting. You take your time with it, learning the shape of her mouth, the softness of her lower lip. She tenses for a second, then melts into it, her hand coming up to rest on your chest. She tastes like orange juice and gummy bears.
When you pull back, her eyes are a little glazed. "Oh," she breathes. "You're, like, a good kisser."
"Thanks."
"Most guys just shove their tongue in. Like a washing machine."
"That's the least sexy comparison anyone has ever made."
"I'm just saying!" She laughs.
You kiss her again. Your hand slides to the back of her neck, fingers threading into the base of her ponytail. She hums against your mouth and shifts, and then she's climbing into your lap, her thighs bracketing your hips, her weight settling onto you. The denim of her shorts is rough against your legs. Her arms loop around your neck.
She's so warm. Her body is pressed against yours and you can feel every curve, every inch of her. Your hands find her waist, grip the swell of her hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just above the waistband of her shorts.
"Can I take this off now?" She tugs at her own shirt, grinning. "Or do you want to do more pretending first?"
"Go ahead."
She pulls the top over her head in one motion and drops it on the floor. The pink bra again, pale lace barely containing her. Her breasts are full and heavy, pushed up by the cups, skin golden-warm in the late afternoon light. Her stomach is toned (the dancing, you remind yourself), defined lines of muscle running beneath smooth skin, and there, right at her navel, a small silver barbell glints. A belly button piercing. Of course.
"Your turn," she says, plucking at the front of your t-shirt.
You pull it off. She looks at your chest with an appraising tilt of her head.
"Not bad. You should work out more, though."
"Thank you for the unsolicited feedback."
"You're welcome!" (Again. Sarcasm-proof.)
You unclip her bra. She shrugs it off her shoulders and lets it fall, and the full weight of her breasts settles free, round and heavy, dark nipples already stiff from the friction of the fabric. They're perfect. Not the word you'd normally use, because nothing's perfect and you're a realist, but - they're perfect. Big and soft and real and right there.
She catches you staring. "You can touch them. That's, like, allowed."
"I know it's allowed. I'm appreciating the view."
"Weirdo."
You lay her down on the bed. She goes easily, hair fanning across your pillow, ponytail loose and coming undone. You unbutton her shorts, peel them down over the thick curve of her hips, her thighs - God, her thighs, full and firm, the kind that press together even when she's lying flat. Her ass lifts off the mattress to help you slide the denim free. Pink underwear underneath (she has a theme, apparently), stretched tight across the wide round swell of her butt.
You pull those down too. She kicks them off one ankle without ceremony.
And there she is. Hirai Momo. Fully naked on your bed, in your sad monk apartment, looking at you with those beautiful, deceptively innocent brown eyes. Her body laid out in front of you is almost absurd: the heavy breasts, the toned stomach with its silver piercing catching light, the flare of her hips into those thick thighs, the neat strip of dark hair between her legs.
(Any qualified psychologist would diagnose you with acute cognitive dissonance right now. Your brain is simultaneously screaming that this is ethically catastrophic and that she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Both are true.)
You take off your jeans, leaving just your boxers. She tracks your movement with lazy, half-lidded eyes.
"Aren't you going to take those off too?"
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because I'm doing something else first."
You settle onto the bed, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Then lower. The slope of her breast. The flat plane of her stomach. The warm skin beside her navel, the cool metal of the piercing against your lip. Her muscles twitch under your mouth.
"What are you—" She props up on her elbows, watching you move down her body. "Wait. Are you going to...?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." She sounds genuinely surprised. "Most guys don't do that."
"Most guys are selfish."
"I thought that was just, like, a thing. That guys don't."
"It's not a thing." You settle between her thighs, hands on her knees, gently pressing them apart. Her legs fall open, and the sight of her, all of her, laid out beneath you, bare and exposed and looking at you with those big confused eyes - it makes your body respond before you can think. "It's just laziness."
"Huh," she manages, right before your mouth finds her.
Your lips press against her and the first thing you register is warmth. Wet, slick warmth, her body already responding before you've done anything intentional. You start slow because there's no reason not to, because she's not going anywhere, because you want to learn her before you take her apart.
Your tongue drags flat and wide from the bottom of her slit all the way up, one long exploratory stroke that makes her thighs twitch against the sides of your head. She tastes clean, faintly sweet, the salt of skin underneath. You do it again, just as slow, just as calculated. Getting the lay of the land.
You settle in, hands curled around the tops of her thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft creases where her legs meet her hips. The skin there is impossibly smooth. You keep your pace unhurried - long, flat strokes with the full width of your tongue, covering everything, mapping the terrain without zeroing in on anything specific yet. Her outer lips are swollen and slick, parting easily under the pressure of your mouth. You trace along the edges, slow and methodical, learning the shape of her.
Her breathing picks up. One of her hands finds the top of your head, fingers resting lightly in your hair. You drag your tongue along the left side of her slit, then the right, calculated strokes that go everywhere except where she probably wants you. Teasing, but not cruelly. Building something. Her clit is swollen and visible, peeking out from its hood, and you can feel the tension in her thighs every time your tongue passes close without making contact.
"You're really taking your time," she observes, impressed and impatient.
You pull back just enough to answer, lips brushing against her when you talk. "Is that a complaint?"
"No! No, it's just... different."
Different from what, you don't ask. You already know the answer and it would make you angry, so you let it go and press your mouth back to her. This time you use the tip of your tongue. Pointed, precise, tracing the delicate folds of her inner lips. She's pink and glistening, every ridge and contour distinct against your tongue. You follow the natural lines of her body, dragging upward along the left side, circling wide around her clit without touching it, then trailing back down the right. A loop. Patient. Thorough.
Momo's abs flex. You can feel the muscles tighten under the hand you've rested on her lower stomach, the little silver barbell of her piercing cool against your wrist. Her hips roll once, a small involuntary grind, and you press them back down gently with both hands.
"Stay still."
"I'm trying." Her fingers tighten in your hair. "It's hard when you're doing... that."
You reward her with the first direct contact. Your tongue finds her clit with a soft, barely-there flick. Just the tip. Just once. Her whole body jolts and a sharp breath punches out of her.
"Oh. Okay. That."
You do it again. Another light flick, this time with a little more pressure, and her thigh presses against the side of your head. You flatten your tongue and cover her clit completely, holding there for a beat, letting her feel the warm, wet pressure without movement. Then you pulse - a gentle rocking of your tongue that pushes against her in slow, rhythmic waves.
"How are you so good at this?" Momo props herself up on one elbow, looking down at you with bewilderment on her face. Her cheeks are flushed, ponytail completely wrecked, dark hair sticking to the side of her neck. "I literally thought you were a virgin."
You stop. Look up at her from between her thighs. "You thought I was a virgin."
"Yeah! You're all, like, books and flashcards and boring apartment. I figured you hadn't... you know. Done stuff."
"I've had a girlfriend, Momo."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, really? What happened?"
"We broke up."
"Well yeah, obviously, but like—" She seems to catch herself, registering the context of this conversation. She's naked on your bed. Your face is between her legs. And she's asking about your ex. "Sorry, that's probably not the right time."
"Probably not."
"But whoever she was?" Momo drops back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling. "Lucky girl. If you ate her pussy like this every time? God."
"Can you stop talking about my ex while I'm going down on you?"
"Right. Yeah. Sorry. Continue."
She waves her hand in a little "carry on" gesture, and despite the absurdity of this arrangement, this girl, this entire situation, something at the corner of your mouth twitches. You lower your head and seal your lips around her clit, sucking gently. Momo's hand slams flat against the mattress.
"Fuck."
The reaction tells you everything you need to know. You increase the suction slightly, pulling her clit into your mouth with a soft, steady pressure, your tongue working against the underside in slow circles. Her hips try to buck upward but your hands are firm on her thighs, holding her in place, keeping her pinned while you work.
She's wet. Obscenely so. You can feel it on your chin, on your lips, the slickness spreading every time you adjust your angle. Her inner thighs are damp against your cheeks. Every time you pull your mouth away to breathe, you can see the shine on her pussy, swollen and flushed dark pink, her clit exposed and throbbing.
You alternate. Suck her clit for a ten count, then release, then trace around it with your tongue in wide lazy circles. Suck again, a little harder, hold it longer. Release, press flat, pulse. She's starting to figure out the pattern (or rather, her body is) and you can feel her tensing in anticipation each time you close your lips around her.
"That— right there." Both hands are in your hair now, not pushing, but holding on. "Don't stop doing that."
You keep the suction steady, tongue curling against her clit in a rhythm you've settled into - slow, conscious, consistent. Her thighs are trembling. Not the full-body shaking of an imminent orgasm, but the low-frequency tremor of sustained stimulation. She's building, and you can read it in every twitch and flex of her body.
(This is the operant conditioning she never paid attention to in class. Stimulus, response, reinforcement. You're reinforcing every sound she makes, every shift of her hips, by repeating whatever just caused it. Pavlov would be proud. Or horrified. Who knows.)
You pull off her clit and drag your tongue down, pushing into her opening. She clenches around you immediately, hot and tight, her inner walls pulsing against the intrusion. You fuck her with your tongue, slow shallow thrusts, and she whines, high and thin, and grinds down against your mouth.
"Nobody does this," she pants. "I'm— this is— nobody takes this long."
"Their loss," you murmur against her, and the vibration of your speech makes her gasp.
You push deeper, as far as your tongue will reach, and curl upward. Her hips jerk hard enough that you have to brace your forearm across her lower belly to keep her down. You can taste her fully now, that salt-sweet tang, and the way she's gripping your hair tells you she's not thinking about assignments or transactions or any of the bullshit that brought her to your bed. She's just here. Just feeling.
You return to her clit. She's so swollen now that you barely have to search. The bud is prominent and hard, a tight knot of nerve endings begging for contact. You cover it with your mouth, suck firmly, and flick the tip of your tongue across it in quick, rhythmic strokes. Fast enough to build, slow enough to sustain.
"Oh God." Her back arches off the mattress. "Oh my God, that feels so good."
Her thighs clamp against your ears. You can barely hear anything except the rush of your own blood and the muffled, distant sound of her breathing going ragged. You don't slow down. Don't change technique. You've found what works and you commit to it. Momo is unraveling above you. Her stomach is heaving. Her hands alternate between gripping your hair and fisting the sheets. Her head is thrown back, throat exposed, tendons standing out in her neck. Every few seconds her hips stutter against your mouth, trying to grind, trying to get more friction, and every time you hold her down and give her exactly what you're already giving her. Consistent. Relentless. Patient.
"I'm..." She swallows hard. "I'm getting close. I think. I don't—" A ragged exhale. "I don't usually finish from this."
She doesn't usually finish from this.
Because the guys she's been with didn't care enough to learn what she needed. Because they treated her mouth, her body, her willingness as a service rendered and never thought to return the favor properly.
You press your tongue flat against her clit, applying firm, steady pressure, and suck. Her body goes rigid.
"Don't stop." Her grip in your hair tightens to the point of pain. "Please. Don't stop. Please, please—"
You double down, working her clit with focused, unwavering attention. Tongue circling, lips sealed around her, suction steady. Her thighs are shaking violently now, the thick muscles quivering against your temples. Her abs are clenched so tight you can see every defined line, the piercing catching light with each heaving breath. Her pussy is soaked, dripping onto the sheets beneath her.
You feel the sudden clench of her whole body, every muscle locking at once, her thighs squeezing your head, her fingers yanking your hair. Then her hips buck upward against your mouth, hard, and she comes with a long, shattered moan that fills your sad little bedroom. Her clit pulses against your tongue. You can feel the contractions, rhythmic and strong, her pussy clenching around nothing, her body riding out the peak. You soften your mouth, easing up the pressure but keeping contact, giving her something to grind against as the orgasm rolls through her. Her hips rock in small, helpless circles, abs spasming with each aftershock.
"Oh my God." Her grip loosens in your hair. Her legs fall open, thighs twitching. "Oh my God."
You ease off slowly, pulling back from her oversensitive clit with careful, gentle movements. A few last soft kisses pressed against the crease of her thigh. She's gasping, chest heaving, her eyes are closed and her lips are parted and her entire body has gone boneless against your sheets.
You press one more kiss to the inside of her thigh. Right there, where the skin is softest, where you can feel her pulse hammering against your lips. You let your mouth linger, then lift your head to look at her.
She's a mess. The most gorgeous mess you've ever seen. Flushed from her chest to her cheeks, hair everywhere, a thin sheen of sweat on her stomach making the piercing glitter. Her eyes flutter open, dazed, pupils blown wide.
"You're beautiful when you come," you tell her. Quiet. Simple. Factual.
A change ripples through her gaze. Shock flashes, then hesitation, then a softness she immediately tries to bury. Her lower lip wobbles for a split second. "You're weird," she whispers.
“I thought you’d have something better to say after I made you cum with my mouth.”
Your thumb traces a slow circle on the inside of her thigh, and she shivers beneath your touch. Suddenly she extends her arm and her hand reaches your face. Her fingers trail along your jaw, thumb dragging through the slickness on your chin.
"That was insane," she murmurs. "Like, genuinely insane. No guy has ever made me finish from just... that."
"From oral?"
"Yeah." She says it plainly, without embarrassment. Just a fact. "Usually they go down for like thirty seconds and then give up. Or they're so bad at it I just fake it so they'll stop."
"That's depressing, Momo."
"Is it? I thought it was normal." She shrugs one bare shoulder, then pushes herself up to sitting. Her breasts sway with the movement. "Okay. Your turn."
"My turn?"
"Yeah. Fair's fair." She reaches for the waistband of your boxers, fingertips hooking under the elastic. "Lie down."
There's a part of you (the analytical, overthinking, perpetually exhausted part) that wants to protest, to tell her this doesn't have to be transactional, that she doesn't owe you reciprocity just because you went down on her. But Momo's already tugging at your waistband with a determined little furrow between her brows, and the part of you that's been hard since approximately the moment she walked through your front door tells the analytical part to shut up and lie back.
You lie back.
Momo kneels beside you, ponytail completely destroyed, dark hair falling around her face in messy strands. She pulls your boxers down with both hands, lifting the elastic over you carefully, and slides them down your thighs, your knees, off your ankles. Tosses them somewhere behind her without looking.
Her eyes drop to your cock. Hard, flushed, curving slightly upward against your stomach. She looks at it the way she looks at most things: with open, uncomplicated appraisal. No shyness.
"Nice," she declares.
"Thanks. I grew it myself."
She snorts. "You're so weird." Then she wraps her hand around the base, and the laugh dies in your throat.
Her grip is firm. Confident. She gives you one slow stroke, base to tip, her fingers snug around your shaft, and you feel the calluses on her palm (from dancing, you realize, from gripping bars and catching herself on hardwood floors) and the heat of her skin.
"Okay, get comfy." She's adjusting her position, settling between your legs on her stomach, and the view is— God. Her back curves down from her shoulders to the deep arch of her spine, and her ass rounds upward behind her, full and heavy. Her breasts press flat against the mattress between your thighs. She braces one hand on your hip and holds your cock steady with the other, angling it toward her mouth.
She licks the tip. One quick, testing pass of her tongue across the head, collecting the bead of precum that's gathered there. Then she looks up at you through her lashes, those enormous brown eyes, and takes you into her mouth.
Warm. Wet. insanely soft. Her lips seal around the head and she sucks, gentle at first, her tongue circling the underside of the ridge in slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation shoots straight down through the base of your cock and into the pit of your stomach.
You exhale. Controlled. Measured. Barely.
She takes you deeper. Her lips sliding down your shaft, her mouth stretching around the thickness of you. Her tongue presses flat against the underside, maintaining contact the whole way down, a continuous wet drag that makes your toes curl against the sheets. She gets about two-thirds of the way before pulling back, and the suction on the retreat is perfect - tight, steady, the kind that makes your fingers grip the sheets.
"Good?" she asks, pulling off with a soft, wet, sound, her hand replacing her mouth in slow strokes.
"Yeah." you admit in a whisper. “Yeah, that's good."
She smiles. Pleased with herself in that unselfconscious way she has. Then she dips her head and takes you in again, and this time she doesn't tease.
(This fact about Momo is honestly kind of funny… if not a little sad: she's terrible at academics. She can't spell "necessary." She thinks Freud was in the Avengers. She draws hearts in the margins of textbooks she's never read. But she is, as it turns out, phenomenally, almost aggressively good at giving head.)
Her technique is varied in a way that speaks to experience, but more than that, to genuine attentiveness. She doesn't just bob her head in a steady rhythm and call it a day. She reads your reactions - the hitch in your breathing when she swirls her tongue around the head, the tension in your thigh when she sucks hard on the upstroke, the way your stomach clenches when she takes you deep enough to nudge the back of her throat.
She pulls off, drags her tongue flat up the entire length of your shaft, base to tip, slow and wet. Then back down. Then up again, this time tracing the thick vein on the underside with the pointed tip of her tongue, following it like a road map. Your cock twitches against her lips and she hums, pleased.
"You're sensitive here." She presses the flat of her tongue against the spot just below the head, the frenulum, and holds it there with steady pressure. Your hips jerk. Just barely, just a fraction, but she notices.
"Yep. There it is." She sounds smug. She should be.
Her hand works the base in slow, twisting strokes while her mouth focuses on the upper half. The combination is devastating: the tight ring of her fingers, the wet heat of her tongue, the soft suction of her lips. She finds a rhythm that works, a coordinated push-pull between hand and mouth, and commits to it with the same single-minded focus she brings to dance practice and absolutely nothing academic.
Your hand finds her hair. You gather the messy strands, the ruined ponytail, and hold them back from her face in a loose grip at the crown of her head. She glances up at you.
"Thanks," she says, your cock resting against her lower lip, her breath warm against the wet skin. "I hate when it gets in the way. One time I almost choked because my hair got stuck in my mouth and the guy's—" She catches the look on your face. "Not the right time for that story?"
"Not the right time."
"Got it." She winks, then swallows you down again.
Deeper this time. She relaxes her jaw, opens her throat, and pushes forward until her lips meet her own fist at the base. You feel the head of your cock press against the tight constriction of her throat and the sensation wrings a low groan out of you that you couldn't suppress if you tried. She holds there for a beat, swallows around you (and the pressure of that, the rhythmic squeeze, is enough to make your vision go slightly white at the edges), then pulls back with a gasp.
Spit and precum stretch in a thin line from her lip to the head of your cock. She doesn't wipe it away. She just licks her lips, breathing hard, and goes back in.
"You're really good at this," you manage. The line lands flat, almost accusatory, like you're annoyed about it.
"I know, right?" She grins around you, which is a facial expression that shouldn't be possible with a cock in her mouth, but Momo makes it work. "It's like my one talent."
"You can dance."
"Okay, my two talents." She laps at the head, kitten-quick flicks of her tongue that make your abs clench. "Three if you count being hot."
You feel that twitch at the corner of your mouth again. She's ridiculous. She's absolutely ridiculous and you're lying naked on your bed letting her give you the best head of your life while she counts her talents on a mental list.
She refocuses, and the playfulness drops away. Her brow furrows slightly. She takes you in her mouth again, working a steady rhythm now, and her free hand drops to cup your balls, rolling them gently in her palm, fingers careful and warm. The dual sensation of her mouth sliding wet and tight along your shaft and her hand kneading the sensitive skin beneath draws a sound out of your chest that you'd be embarrassed about in any other context.
Her jaw must be getting tired, but she doesn't let up. She pulls off to breathe, keeps her hand moving in long slick strokes (your cock is coated now, shining with spit and precum from the base to the tip), and presses her open mouth against the side of your shaft. Wet, sloppy kisses along the length of you, her tongue tracing shapes against the skin. She mouths at the base, nuzzles lower, drags her tongue across your balls with a flat, firm pressure that makes your hips shift restlessly on the mattress.
"Stay still," she echoes, throwing your own words back at you with a grin pressed into your inner thigh.
"Easier said than done."
"See? Now you get it."
She takes the head back into her mouth, and the suction is tighter now, more focused, her cheeks hollowing as she works. Her hand twists on every upstroke, a corkscrew motion around your shaft that sends sparks up your spine. She's thorough, almost methodical, covering every inch of you - tongue swirling the head, lips tight on the shaft, hand firm at the base, the other still gently rolling your balls. Your cock is soaked, absolutely dripping, spit running down to her fingers and pooling warm against your skin.
(You're a psychology major. You know about the halo effect - the cognitive bias that makes people assume attractive individuals are also competent, kind, intelligent. You've always been skeptical of it. But right now, with Momo's mouth wrapped around you, you're willing to concede that the halo effect, while scientifically questionable, is at minimum emotionally persuasive.)
She takes you deep one more time, holds it, swallows. Your grip tightens in her hair and she makes a small, satisfied sound around you that vibrates through the shaft and directly into the base of your skull. Then she pulls off, gasping softly, and wraps both hands around your cock, stroking in long, fluid movements from base to tip. The whole length of you is slick, glistening, thoroughly worked over.
She surveys her handiwork with obvious pride, her lips swollen and pink, her chin wet. She swipes the back of her hand across her mouth and sits back on her heels between your legs, knees pressing into the mattress, those thick thighs folded beneath her.
"There." She gives your cock one last slow stroke, her thumb circling the head, spreading the wetness around. "All ready."
She's looking at you with that grin, bright and unguarded, her hair a disaster and her lips puffy and her eyes still a little glazed from her own orgasm. Your cock throbs in her hand, slick and hard and aching, every nerve ending lit up from thirty minutes of her undivided attention.
Momo releases her grip and leans forward, planting both hands on your chest, her breasts pressing soft and heavy against your stomach and her face hovers above yours.
"So," she breathes, her hips settling down against yours, the wet heat of her pressing against the underside of your cock. "How do you want me?”
You stare at her. It's a mistake. You know it's a mistake the moment you do it, because looking at Hirai Momo when she's hovering above you, naked and flushed and grinning with swollen lips, is the kind of thing that makes rational thought pack its bags and leave the building.
The late afternoon light falls across her collarbones, the slope of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts hanging heavy above your chest. Her hair is a mess, dark strands stuck to her neck, and her eyes are soft and warm and looking right at you with an attentiveness you would never expect from her.
And your brain, your stupid overworked psychology-major brain, does the worst possible thing it could do in this moment.
It starts to feel.
Not just arousal. Not just the obvious biological response to having a beautiful naked woman pressed against you. Something more dangerous, something in the back of your ribs that aches when she smiles at you like that. You're cataloging her features without meaning to — the tiny mole near lower lip, the way her nose scrunches when she grins, the faint indentation on her earlobe where she took out her earring.
You're almost falling in love with her. The thought surfaces fully formed and you shove it down with both hands.
She's here because you wrote her media ethics paper. She's in your bed because of a transaction. You are a service she's paying for with her body, or she's a service you're paying for with your GPA. Either way, this is commerce. It has terms. It has an expiration date. You do not catch feelings for commerce.
You sit up abruptly, and Momo slides off your chest with a surprised little "oh."
"Where are you going?"
"Condom." You swing your legs off the bed and cross to the nightstand. Bottom drawer, behind a textbook on cognitive behavioral therapy (because that's where you keep them, and yes, you're aware of the symbolism). You pull one out, tear the wrapper.
"Good thinking," Momo says from the bed. She's lying on her back now, one knee bent, watching you. "This one guy in my comm class never wanted to use one and I was like, dude, I'm dumb but I'm not that dumb."
"Compelling anecdote."
"I thought so."
You roll the condom on, smoothing it down your shaft with practiced efficiency, and turn back to the bed. Momo is stretched out against your sheets like she was sculpted there, all golden skin and curves and that silver piercing catching light on her stomach. Her thighs are slightly parted, and between them she's still wet, glistening from the orgasm you gave her.
You climb back onto the bed, settling on your knees between her legs. She spreads them wider to make room, casual as anything, and hooks one ankle behind your thigh.
"How do you want to do this?" she asks.
"Missionary."
She raises both eyebrows. "Really? That's so vanilla."
"I want to see your face."
You don’t catch the words in time. Too open. Too blunt. Momo’s look shifts, a brief shimmer in her gaze you can’t decode, and a slow smile unfolds across her lips.
"That's kind of romantic," she murmurs.
You reach for the first deflection you can find: "Also, I want to watch your tits bounce."
She bursts out laughing. "There it is. I was like, who is this guy? Being all sweet." She cups her own breasts, lifts them, lets them drop. "They do bounce pretty good."
"I've noticed."
"Everyone notices." Momo says it without vanity, just fact. She pulls out the hair tie and the messy ponytail comes undone. She settles back into the pillow with her arms above her head, hair fanned out, body open and waiting. "Okay, come on. Show me what you've got."
You brace one hand beside her head. The other grips the base of your cock, guiding yourself to her entrance. She's so wet that the head slides against her easily, skating through the slickness, and you position yourself at her opening. Press forward. Just the tip, just barely parting her, and the heat is immediate and intense.
Momo's breath catches. Her eyes are on yours, wide and focused. You push in. Slow, controlled, feeding yourself into her inch by inch. Her body resists for just a second, that initial tightness, and then she relaxes around you and you slide deeper, feeling her stretch to accommodate you. Warm. Wet. Tight enough that the pressure registers along every nerve in your shaft.
"Oh, fuck," she exhales. Her hands come down to grip your forearms. "Go slow."
"I am going slow."
"Slower."
You stop halfway, holding still, letting her adjust. Her inner walls pulse around you in soft, rhythmic contractions, her body figuring you out. She's breathing through her mouth, chest rising and falling, and those gorgeous breasts shift with each inhale.
"Okay," she whispers. "More."
You press the rest of the way in. Her pelvis meets yours, your hips flush against the insides of her thighs, and you're fully seated inside her. The feeling is… a lot. She's clenching around you, intentionally or not, and the squeeze is tight enough that you have to hold still and take a measured breath through your nose.
"You feel really good," Momo tells you. Plainly. "Like, filling? In a good way."
"I'll put that on my résumé."
"You should. Under special skills."
You pull back, a slow drag that makes her grip tighten on your forearms, then push back in. Steady. Unhurried. Letting both of you feel every inch of the stroke. Her pussy grips you on the outstroke, like her body doesn't want to let go, and the wet friction on the re-entry sends heat pooling at the base of your spine.
You find a rhythm. Deep, full strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in. Your hips meet hers with a soft, wet sound each time, and her body rocks beneath you. And there they go - her breasts, heavy and round, swaying with each thrust. They move in opposite rhythm to your strokes, rolling upward when you push in, settling back when you pull out. Hypnotic. You weren't lying about wanting to watch.
"Enjoying the view?" She catches you staring.
"Immensely."
She grins, then gasps when you angle your hips slightly, changing the trajectory. The head of your cock drags against the front wall of her pussy on the upstroke and her whole body reacts - abs clenching, thighs squeezing your sides, a sharp inhale through her teeth.
"That," she breathes. "Whatever that was, do that again."
You do it again. And again. Finding the angle that makes her gasp and committing to it with methodical precision. Each stroke pushes against that swollen spot inside her, and you can feel the difference in her reactions. Her moans get louder, less performative, more involuntary.
"Fuck." Her head presses back into the pillow, throat arched. "This is so much better than I expected."
"What were you expecting?"
"I don't know, like..." She gasps when you thrust particularly deep. "Three minutes and a pat on the head."
"You've been sleeping with the wrong people."
"Obviously!" She laughs, and the sound breaks into a moan when you pick up the pace.
You shift your weight to one arm and bring your free hand to her breast, palming the heavy swell, thumb finding her nipple. You roll it under the pad of your thumb, firm circles, and she arches into the touch. Her skin is hot under your hand, slightly damp with sweat.
The rhythm settles into something insistent. Faster now, your hips working in steady, driving strokes, and the bed frame is tapping quietly against the wall with each thrust. Momo's legs wrap around your waist, her heels pressing into the small of your back, pulling you deeper. Her pussy is soaked, the sounds between your bodies obscene and wet, and you can feel her clenching around you in rhythmic pulses, tighter each time.
"That angle." Her nails drag down your forearms. "Right there. Don't move, don't change anything."
You maintain it. Same depth, same angle, same pace. Her body starts to tense beneath you, a gradual tightening that begins in her thighs and spreads upward through her stomach, her chest, her shoulders.
Her eyes are getting hazy. Her mouth is open, breathing ragged. Her breasts are bouncing with each thrust, nipples hard, and the silver piercing on her stomach flashes in the fading light.
"I think I'm..." She swallows. "Oh my God, I think I'm going to—"
You bring your hand down between your bodies. Your thumb finds her clit, swollen and slick, and you press against it firmly. She jolts beneath you.
"Fuck!" Her hands fly to your shoulders, nails biting in. "Oh, fuck."
You rub her. Tight, fast circles against her clit, your thumb sliding easily through the wetness, while your hips keep their rhythm. The dual stimulation hits her hard, you can see it happening, feel it in the way her pussy clamps down around your cock, the way her thighs start trembling violently against your ribs.
"Don't stop,” she moans “Please, please, don't stop, right there—"
You press harder, rub faster, and thrust deep. Her body goes rigid beneath you. Every muscle locks, her back arching clean off the mattress, her breasts pressing against your chest. Her pussy clamps around you in a vise grip, pulsing hard, and her eyes roll back, literally roll back, the brown disappearing under fluttering lids as her mouth falls open in a silent scream that takes a full second to find its voice.
The sound she makes is raw and broken. Long, shuddering, her whole body convulsing around you. Her legs lock behind your back, pulling you in as deep as you can go, and her hips buck in erratic, helpless circles against your thumb. You feel every contraction, every pulse of her orgasm gripping your cock in tight, rhythmic waves.
You ease up on her clit but keep your thumb resting there, light pressure, while the aftershocks roll through her. Her thighs are shaking uncontrollably, the thick muscles twitching and jumping. Her stomach spasms, the piercing shivering with each involuntary clench of her abs. She's gasping, each breath a ragged, broken thing, and there are tears at the corners of her eyes; not from sadness, just from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it.
"Oh my God." Her grip on your shoulders loosens. Her eyes refocus, glazed and stunned. "Oh my God."
You stay still inside her, letting her come down, feeling the last contractions pulse weakly around your shaft.
"No guy has ever..." She blinks. Swallows. Tries again: "No guy has ever made me cum like that. Not even close. What the fuck."
You look down at her. Wrecked, trembling, tear-streaked, the most beautiful mess you've ever seen in your life. Flushed from her hairline to her chest, hair plastered to her neck, lips bitten red.
"I'm full of surprises," you tell her, and brush a damp strand of hair off her forehead, your thumb tracing the edge of her jaw before you can stop yourself from being tender about it.
You lean down and kiss her. It's unhurried, almost lazy, your mouth moving against hers while she's still trembling from the aftershocks. Her hand comes up to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, and for a moment it's just this - mouths and breath and the quiet of your apartment settling around you.
She pulls back first, blinking up at you with those glazed, enormous eyes. Her gaze drops between your bodies, to where you're still hard inside her, and her brows knit together in confusion.
"How have you not cum yet?"
"Willpower."
"Seriously, though." She shifts her hips experimentally and you grit your teeth at the sensation, her pussy still clenching in residual spasms around your shaft. "Most guys would've finished like twenty minutes ago."
You pull out slowly, the drag of her swollen walls along your cock enough to make you exhale. "It's been a while since I've had sex. I wanted to make it last."
"How long is a while?"
"Long enough that I'm not going to rush through this."
She studies you quietly, tipping her head to the side the way she always does when she’s thinking. Something flickers behind her eyes. Then a grin creeps over her warm cheeks, unhurried and just a little bit wicked.
"Okay," she says. "Then I'm going to reward you." She pushes herself up, rolls onto her stomach, and gets on all fours.
And you understand. Immediately, viscerally, with every single neuron in your overworked brain, you understand why every guy likes this position.
Momo on all fours is a religious experience.
Her back slopes downward from her shoulders in a smooth arch, the line of her spine dipping deep before curving up into her ass. And her ass. God, her ass. It's right there, round and full and heavy. Her cheeks are thick and smooth with just enough softness that they bounce slightly as she adjusts her knees on the mattress. From this angle, the curve of each cheek swells outward in a perfect crescent, the cleft between them deep and shadowed. Below, between her spread thighs, her pussy is swollen and glistening, pink and wet from two orgasms.
She looks back at you over her shoulder. That grin again. "You're staring."
"I'm processing."
"Take a picture, it lasts longer." She wiggles her hips. Actually wiggles them, a small side-to-side sway that makes her ass jiggle, and your brain short-circuits for a full second.
"Don't tempt me."
"You could. I don't mind."
"Momo."
"What! I'm just saying. Anyway." She faces forward again, drops to her elbows, and the new angle pushes her ass up higher, the arch of her back deepening. Her breasts hang heavy beneath her, swaying slightly. "You can go hard now. Like, intense. I can take it."
Her wish is an order. You position yourself behind her. One hand on her hip, the other guiding your cock to her entrance. She's so wet that the head slips against her twice before you line up, the slick heat smearing across the inside of her thigh. You press forward, and her body opens for you easily this time, her pussy stretching around you in one smooth, continuous glide.
She moans into the pillow. Low, throaty, muffled by the cotton. Her walls grip you differently in this position - tighter, the angle pushing you against the front wall, and you can feel every ridge and texture of her insides as you bottom out.
"Oh, that's deep," she gasps, fingers curling into the sheets. "That's really, really deep."
You pull back and push in again. Harder this time. The impact of your hips meeting her ass produces a dull, fleshy sound that fills the quiet room, and her whole body rocks forward with the force of it. Her ass ripples on contact.
"Harder," she tells you, and there's no hesitation in it. "Come on. I told you I can take it."
So you give her harder.
Your grip tightens on her hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and you set a pace that's consistent and firm. Each thrust drives deep, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room alongside her breathing. Her ass bounces with every stroke, the heavy cheeks absorbing the impact and jiggling in a way that's honestly pretty distracting.
You spread her. Both hands on her cheeks, thumbs pressing into the yielding flesh, pulling them apart. And there it is: the full, explicit view of your cock disappearing into her pussy. Her lips are stretched tight around your shaft, flushed dark pink, clinging to you on every outstroke. The slickness between you catches the light, obscene and glistening. You watch yourself sink in, watch her swallow every inch, watch the way her entrance flutters and grips.
"Fuck," you mutter.
"Good view?" She's breathless, cheek pressed against the pillow, one eye looking back at you.
"Incredible."
"Told you this position is the best." Her words dissolve into a sharp gasp when you thrust particularly deep, your hips flush against her ass. "Oh, God. Right there."
You hold her cheeks apart and keep going, eyes fixed on the place where your bodies connect. The visual feedback is devastating - watching yourself fuck her, seeing every detail of it, the way her pussy grips and releases, the wetness that coats your shaft and strings between you on every outstroke. You pick up the pace and her moans get louder, less controlled.
"You fuck so good," she pants. Her elbows slide on the sheets and she drops lower, chest against the mattress, ass pushed up even higher. The angle shifts and you sink deeper. "Like, seriously, what the fuck. Where did you learn this?"
"Practice quiz."
"Huh?"
"Nothing."
Her laughter turns into a moan when you snap your hips forward hard enough to make her whole body jolt. You're finding a groove now, a relentless rhythm that has the bed frame knocking steadily against the wall. Your hands alternate between gripping her hips for leverage and spreading her cheeks for the view. Each time you pull them apart and watch your cock plunge into her.
"You're so fucking wet," you tell her.
"That's your fault." She fists the pillow, burying her face in it for a second before coming back up for air. "You and your stupid mouth and your stupid tongue and your stupid—" A particularly hard thrust cuts her off. "Oh, fuck. Keep doing that."
You lean forward, changing the angle, one hand braced on the mattress beside her ribs. The new position lets you drive downward into her, each stroke grinding against the front wall, and her reaction is immediate. Her back arches sharper, her toes curl against the sheets, and a sound comes out of her that's rawer than anything you've heard tonight.
You maintain the angle and the pace, each thrust deep and grinding, your hips meeting her ass with a steady slap that punctuates every stroke. Sweat is beading along her spine, collecting in the small of her back, and her whole body is trembling.
"I'm gonna cum again." She says it with a note of disbelief. "How am I going to cum again? I never cum this many times."
"Just let it happen."
"I'm—" Her fingers twist in the sheets. "Oh my God, I'm really close."
You reach underneath her. Your fingers find her clit, swollen and slippery, and you press firmly, rubbing in fast circles while your hips keep their punishing rhythm. The combined assault of your cock driving deep and your fingers working her clit tears a sound out of her that's almost a scream, muffled into the pillow she's biting.
You feel the orgasm ripping through Momo, her inner walls seizing in hard, rhythmic contractions that grip your cock in waves. Her thighs are shaking violently, her whole body convulsing, and her back arches so severely that her ass presses hard against your hips. Her toes curl, uncurl, curl again. She's gone, completely gone, riding it out in helpless, full-body shudders with broken and incoherent moans against the pillow.
You slow your thrusts, letting her feel every pulse, and ease your fingers off her clit as the peak crests and begins to recede. She's trembling so hard the mattress vibrates.
"Oh my God." It's barely audible. Her legs give out and she collapses flat onto her stomach, your cock slipping out of her in the process. She lies there, face down, panting, absolutely destroyed. "Oh my God."
She turns her head to the side. One glassy eye finds you. "No guy," she whispers, "has ever made me cum like that. Not once. Not ever. What the actual fuck are you."
"Full of surprises." Your hand runs down the curve of her spine, a slow, gentle sweep over the sweat-damp skin. "I did say that."
She lets out a weak, breathless laugh. "You're unreal." She's still catching her breath, but she rolls her head to look at you properly, reading the strain on your face. "Where do you want to cum? I can tell you're close."
You look at her. The mess of her hair, the flush on her cheeks, the sheen of sweat across her shoulders. And her breasts, pressed flat against the mattress, spilling to the sides.
"Your tits."
"Good choice." She grins, lazy and satisfied, and rolls over onto her back. Her breasts settle heavy on her chest, full and round, nipples dark and stiff. She stretches her arms above her head, arching slightly, presenting them to you. "All yours."
You straddle her, knees on either side of her ribcage, and strip the condom off. Your cock is painfully hard, slick from her. You wrap your hand around yourself and start stroking, fast and tight, and the relief of direct friction after all that teasing, after her mouth, after her pussy, is overwhelming.
Momo watches you from below with eyes half-lidded, that lazy grin still curving her lips. "That's hot," she murmurs. "Watching you jerk off over me. I like it." Your hand moves faster. The tension in your gut coils tighter, tighter, every muscle in your core bracing for it. "Come on," she encourages, licking her lips. "Give it to me."
Your cock pulses hard in your fist, the tension that's been building for the last hour finally snapping, and the first thick rope of cum shoots out of you in a heavy arc that lands across her left breast. A white streak, dense and warm, splattering across the full round swell of it and dripping down toward her nipple in a slow, obscene trail.
"Yeah," Momo breathes beneath you, her eyes locked on your cock. "Give me all of it."
Your hips jerk forward, your hand keeps moving in tight, fast strokes, and the second shot follows - just as thick, just as heavy, this one catching her right breast dead center. It lands with a wet sound against her skin, a long white stripe that pools in the crease where her breast meets her chest before overflowing, sliding down into the valley between them.
"Fuck." The word grinds out of you through clenched teeth, your abs clenching with each contraction.
"God, there's so much." She's staring down at her own chest, watching your cum paint her tits, and her tongue drags across her lower lip. "Keep going, don't stop."
A third pulse. This one hits the upper slope of her left breast and her collarbone, a messy splatter that streaks across her skin in thick white lines. Her nipple is coated now, cum clinging to the stiff peak, dripping off the sides in slow rivulets that trace the curve of her breast before soaking into the sheets beneath her.
"All over my tits," she murmurs, her breasts shifting with each breath and smearing the mess further. "That's so fucking hot. You're making such a mess of me."
The fourth shot is weaker but still thick, landing in the valley between her breasts, adding to the pool that's already gathered there. The cum slides in both directions, trickling down the inner slope of each breast. Your cock throbs in your grip, each pulse wringing another load out of you, and a fifth spurt hits her right nipple directly, coating the dark bud in a thick white glaze that drips down onto the swell beneath.
"Look at me," she says, and you do. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted and wet. "You came so hard. That's all because of me, right?"
"Yeah,” you murmur weakly. "All you."
"Good." She grins, watching the last of it drip from the tip of your cock. Thick droplets fall onto her sternum, her chest, her stomach (one lands just above the silver glint of her belly button piercing). "I love watching you cum. Your face gets all tense and serious. It's cute."
You're still dripping. The final weak pulses leave thin trails of cum that roll down your shaft and over your knuckles, and you stroke through them, milking out the very last of it. A translucent string stretches between the tip of your cock and the wet mess on her chest before breaking, landing on the inner curve of her breast.
Her tits are covered. Streaked and splattered in thick white ropes, glistening under the fading light. The cum has pooled in every dip and crease - between her breasts, around her nipples, in the soft hollow of her collarbone. Some of it has started to slide down her ribs, thin trails running over the sides of her breasts toward the sheets.
You let go of yourself. Your thighs are trembling against her ribs. Below you, Momo looks down at her own chest with an expression of amused assessment.
"Wow. You really did save up.”
"Told you it'd been a while."
She brings both hands to her breasts. Her fingers spread through the mess, smearing your cum across her skin in slow circles. She rubs it over the swell of each breast, across her nipples, coating herself in it with an unhurried thoroughness that makes your spent cock twitch against your thigh. The white streaks thin and spread under her palms, turning her chest slick and shiny.
Then she lifts one hand to her mouth and slides two fingers between her lips.
She licks them clean. Eyes on yours the entire time, those big brown irises holding your gaze while her tongue curls around her fingertips, collecting every trace. She pulls them out, goes back for more, scooping a thick smear from the curve of her breast and bringing it to her mouth. Her tongue catches the glob off her index finger, and she swallows without breaking eye contact.
"Salty," she announces, like she's providing a Yelp review.
You stare at her. Hirai Momo, lying on your bed, covered in your cum, licking it off her own fingers with the same casual ease she'd bring to eating gummy bears.
She takes your cock in her hand, soft and spent, and leans down. Her full lips press against the tip in a gentle, deliberate kiss. Not sexual, exactly. Tender. The kind of gesture that doesn't fit the arrangement you've agreed to. Her mouth is warm and soft against the oversensitive head, and your stomach does something complicated that you refuse to examine.
"Do you do this with everyone who cums on your tits?"
She pulls back, still holding you loosely, and looks up. "No." She says it simply, without performance. "Only you. You deserve it."
You lie side by side on the bed. The sheets are wrecked, tangled at the foot of the mattress, the light has gone from gold to amber to the thin blue-gray of early evening. Momo is on her back, one arm draped across her stomach, the other extended above her head. Her breasts rise and fall with each slowing breath, still faintly glossy. Your cum is drying on her skin in thin, translucent streaks that she hasn't bothered to wipe off.
You're on your back too, staring at the ceiling, acutely aware of the warmth of her body beside yours. Your shoulders are almost touching.
"Can I use your shower?" She turns her head to look at you. "I have a party tonight."
"Of course you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Bathroom's through there." You gesture toward the door.
She rolls off the bed with a bounce that shouldn't be possible for someone who just had three orgasms, and pads across your room barefoot. Naked. Completely, unselfconsciously, magnificently naked. Her ass sways with each step, the full heavy curve of it shifting left and right, and the light from the window traces the contour of her waist, the dimples above her tailbone.
She pauses in the doorway to look back at you. "Do you have a towel that isn't sad?"
"All my towels are sad. It's a matching set."
"You need a girlfriend." She disappears into the bathroom, and a moment later you hear the water start.
Hirai Momo is naked in your apartment. Using your shower. After having sex with you in exchange for a media ethics essay. You lie there on your wrecked sheets, staring at the ceiling, and try to pinpoint the exact moment your life became a bad college movie.
She comes back ten minutes later, wrapped in your sad towel, hair damp, skin dewy. She gets dressed in front of you without a shred of modesty - stepping into her underwear, clasping her bra, pulling the top back over her head. She checks her reflection in your laptop screen, fluffs her wet hair, and deems herself acceptable.
"Okay, I'm going. My paper's due Thursday, right?"
“It’s already finished. I’ll send it to you later.”
"You're the best." She blows you a kiss from the doorway. "Bye!"
The door closes. The apartment is quiet. You lie there for another full minute, then get up, strip the sheets, and start a load of laundry.
• • •
You told yourself it would only be once.
It is not once. Momo keeps showing up. She has a talent for finding you on campus - in the library, in the psych building, in the cafeteria where you eat lunch alone with a textbook propped against the napkin dispenser. She materializes beside you like she has a GPS tracker on your location.
"I have another paper due," she announces one Tuesday, sliding into the seat across from you at the library. She's wearing a cropped hoodie, no bra underneath (you can tell, you can always tell now, and you hate yourself for always checking), and those same tiny denim shorts.
"What class?"
"Intro to Sociology."
"When's it due?"
"Tomorrow."
"Momo. It's Monday night."
"I know! That's why I came to find you." She leans forward, elbows on the table. "I'll make it worth your while."
She bites her lip. Not seductively; she's just chewing on it the way she does when she's thinking. But the effect is the same, and your resolve, which was already the structural integrity of wet cardboard, collapses entirely.
"Fine. Two thousand words on social stratification?"
"Is that the one about rich people and poor people?"
"Close enough."
"You're amazing." She reaches across the table and squeezes your hand.
You write the paper. She comes over the next evening. The cycle repeats.
More assignments, more sex. Her communications midterm prep (you write the study guide; she rides you on the couch). A group project presentation that her partners are too starstruck by her face to complain she contributed nothing (you build her slides; she blows you in the kitchen while the coffee brews). A reflection paper on gender dynamics in media (the irony continues to cremate itself; she lets you bend her over the desk).
The tutoring sessions become a formality. You really try to maintain some semblance of academic purpose. You print out practice questions, prepare vocabulary lists, bring flashcards. Momo sits across from you, pen in hand, notebook open, and lasts approximately four and a half minutes before the fidgeting starts.
"Okay, but what if Maslow's hierarchy of needs, but for snacks?" she proposes during one session, her feet in your lap under the table. "Like, the base level is water, then chips, then gummy bears, and the top is boba."
"That's not how Maslow works."
"It should be. His version is boring."
She doodles in the margins. She mispronounces "epistemology" so badly it sounds like a skin condition. She asks you if Karl Marx and Groucho Marx are related (they are not). She spends ten minutes trying to understand the concept of cognitive dissonance before declaring, "That's literally just being a Gemini."
And yet. She tries. In her own scattered, easily distracted, fundamentally Momo way, she tries. She reads the chapters you assign her - slowly, with her finger tracing each line, mouthing the words. She attempts the practice questions, and even when she gets them wrong, she furrows her brow and asks why. She texts you at midnight with questions that are sometimes insightful and often unhinged ("if everyone is socialized by their environment, does that mean I'm the product of K-pop and TikTok? because that tracks honestly").
She's never late for the sex. Not once. The girl who showed up twenty minutes late to your first tutoring session with boba in hand arrives at your apartment with military precision when there's an orgasm on the line. You'd find this insulting if it weren't so on-brand.
Her grades improve. Nothing dramatic. She inches from failing to passing, from D-territory into low C's. Her sociology professor emails her a "nice improvement" note and she screenshots it and sends it to you with seventeen exclamation marks and a string of emojis that includes, for reasons unclear, a lobster.
"I'm basically a genius now," she tells you one afternoon, lying on your bed in just her underwear after a session that stopped being academic approximately ninety seconds in.
"You got a C minus, Momo."
"That's passing! That's literally passing! I've never passed sociology before."
"You've taken it before?"
"Twice." She holds up two fingers. "Third time's the charm."
"That's not the flex you think it is."
"Everything is a flex if you believe in yourself."
The arrangement works. It's simple, clean, mutually beneficial. You write, she fucks, everyone wins. That's what you tell yourself every time she shows up at your door.
But today, things don’t go according to the usual setup
The sex is good. It's been good for almost two months. You've figured each other out by now. You know which angle makes her toes curl. She knows how to squeeze around you at exactly the right moment to make your brain go blank. You get each other off. Every time. No fumbling, no guesswork.
But tonight, after she comes (hard, gasping, her nails leaving fresh red trails down your forearms), something different happens.
She doesn't get up. She doesn't reach for her phone. She doesn't ask to use the shower, doesn't mention a party or a dinner or a friend she's meeting. Instead, she rolls onto her side, tucks herself against you, and lays her head on your chest.
Her cheek presses against your skin, right over your heartbeat. Her arm drapes across your stomach, her fingers curling loosely against your ribs. Her hair fans across your chest, dark and damp at the temples, smelling like your shampoo from the last time she showered here.
She doesn't say anything. Her breathing slows. Her body gets heavier against yours.
"Momo."
Nothing.
"Momo, don't you have somewhere to be?"
Her response is a small, sleepy mumble that contains no actual words. Her fingers twitch against your ribs and then go still.
"Momo." You nudge her shoulder gently. "Hey."
She's asleep. Fully, completely asleep. On your chest, in your bed, in your sad monk apartment. Her lips are slightly parted, her breath coming in slow, even puffs against your skin. One of her legs has tangled with yours under the sheets.
Wake her up. That's the move. Shake her shoulder, find her shirt, get her dressed, get her out, get your head straight. You know this. You know the rules because you made the rules. No sleepovers. No cuddling. No stroking her hair like you're doing right now, slow and careful from her forehead to the crown of her head, like she's something fragile, like she's something yours. When did your hand start doing that? You don't remember deciding to. Doesn't matter. You're not stopping.
Her hair is soft. You already knew that. You've grabbed fistfuls of it while she sucked your cock, pulled it while you fucked her from behind. But that was different. That was part of the arrangement. This is you touching her because you want to. Because she's warm, close and sleeping on your chest like she trusts you, and you don't have the guts to stop.
At some point the sun went down and you didn't bother turning on a light because that would require moving and Momo is asleep on you and you'd rather die than disturb that.
Momo burrows into your neck in her sleep and makes this little noise, barely there, and her arm squeezes tighter around your stomach. Your hand has been running through her hair on autopilot for the last ten minutes. Very normal behavior. Nothing to unpack there.
You're looking at the ceiling because it's the only safe place to look. The crack in the plaster is still there. Still shaped like a question mark. Still annoyingly relevant.
You have two options for dealing with what's happening inside you right now: you can dress it up in clinical language. Pair bonding. Oxytocin release. Attachment formation through repeated intimate contact. You can write yourself a whole paper on it, cite sources, get a decent grade.
Or you can just admit you're in love with Hirai Momo and deal with the consequences.
She mumbles something in her sleep and nuzzles deeper into your neck. Your hand pauses. Her face scrunches. You start stroking again immediately, like a trained animal. Pavlov would be so proud.
"I'm fucked," you inform the ceiling.
The ceiling doesn't respond. Momo sleeps on, warm and trusting, her hand curled against your ribs, completely unaware that she just ruined your life in the best possible way.
Mina’s husband’s parents had despised her from the beginning, and they never made the slightest effort to hide it. Lee’s family—old money, old pride—treated her like she had clawed her way into their family. They never said it politely either. In their eyes, she was “cheap,” somehow, someone who didn’t belong anywhere near their only son, no matter how successful she’d been as an idol or how much she had earned on her own. Because the Lee’s name had weight, because their wealth stretched back generations, because she married Seojun, who much older than her, and because he had helped with her business after she retired from the industry. To them, every gesture of support he’d shown her was proof she must have been scheming.
None of it had ever reflected the truth. For two years of marriage, she and Seojun had been nothing but solidly, stupidly in love.
She met him when she was fresh off her idol contract, drained but still recognizable everywhere she went, trying to figure out what a normal life even looked like. At the time, she often stopped by a small restaurant whenever she needed quiet. It was one of the few places where people usually left her alone, and she could sit for an hour without cameras in her face. She’d only been going there a few weeks when a ridiculously handsome man in a fitted suit walked in and ended up seated near her.
That first day, they only traded the usual polite words strangers share in passing. But he kept coming back every afternoon after the lunch rush, always choosing a table close to hers. By that hour the place was practically empty, so it became easy to talk without being overheard. Casual comments turned into actual conversation. Seojun worked in finance at a job he openly disliked, but the money gave him enough freedom to travel whenever he could, the thing he love to do. They realized they had the same taste in music, the same comfort films, and—ironically—the same weakness for good food.
Six months passed before either of them stopped pretending it was just friendly conversation. One afternoon he “forgot” his wallet on the table, and when she called to let him know, he offered dinner as thanks. And that was it—that was the start of them.
He took her to a high-end restaurant, the kind she’d only seen during her idol years when companies booked fancy venues for sponsors. Sitting across from Seojun as a date—without makeup artists, managers, or staff hovering—felt almost unreal. She kept teasing him that it was weird to be on the opposite side of the table for once, instead of watching him wander in and pretend he wasn’t trying to sit near her every afternoon.
After dinner, they drove out to the beach. They ended up stretched on the sand, sharing one jacket, her head tucked against his shoulder while the waves kept rolling in. Right before their first kiss, Seojun admitted he’d intentionally forgotten his wallet at the restaurant that day, hoping she would call so he’d have an excuse to see her outside that quiet corner booth. He went stiff when she said she had known from the start—and that she only waited because she wanted to see if he’d actually follow through.
Mina told him plainly that if he hadn’t asked her out, she would’ve asked him. That was the last bit of courage he needed before leaning in and kissing her.
They slept together for the first time that night, and everything between them picked up speed after that. Six months into dating, they were engaged. Her parents were shocked—but they loved him and gave their blessing. Then came the moment she learned exactly who Seojun’s family was and what kind of world she was marrying into.
When he said he “worked in finance,” he meant he was a vice president across several major financial firms, right under his father, who was the president and CEO. She knew he was comfortable financially, but not that level of wealthy. The fact that she hadn’t known was a relief to both of them—it meant she had fallen for Seojun, not the Lee name.
His parents had been out of the country for most of the six months they dated. Seojun told them about her, but she hadn’t met them yet. She was nervous, and when they finally told his father, Minjun and his mother about the engagement, the reaction was immediate. With her in the next room, they told Seojun he was making a huge mistake marrying some girl who clearly only wanted his money. Seojun was so angry he walked out, and three months later the two of them drove to Incheon and got married without any family present.
Mina hoped time would soften things, but the opposite happened. She was never invited to their home—for holidays, dinners, or anything. Whenever they called and she picked up, they hung up immediately. They still tried setting Seojun up with other women. Each of them had separately offered her absurd amounts of money to divorce him—offers she always rejected. She and Seojun had told them countless times that they loved each other, and if the Lee’s couldn’t accept it, that was their problem. But anyone in the business world would say the same thing: Minjun was a man who didn’t like hearing the word “no.”
Mina and Seojun actually had a solid marriage. He was the softest, warmest, most giving man she could’ve hoped to end up with—plus, in bed, he was an absolute menace. Outside of tiny arguments about what movie to watch or where to travel, they barely fought. Probably because they never kept anything from each other… or at least they didn’t, until that one day everything snapped sideways.
It started on the Friday kicking off a long weekend. Seojun planned to spend the next few days out on his boat, and like she always did when he wasn’t around, she’d lined up her usual solo routine: movies, face masks, and a whole snack all to herself. This time she’d added “what if” to the list—something she’d been putting off all season. Whatever. She always performed better when pressure was chewing on her heels.
She got home from the studio and sank straight into a hot bath with a glass of wine. After, she changed into loose sweats and one of Seojun’s old T-shirts she refused to throw away, then ordered food. Three glasses in, she sprawled across the couch with her sketchbook, pencils scattered everywhere, and hit play on the screen, hoping the music would jolt her brain into something useful. She was just settling in when the doorbell rang.
“Damn,” she muttered, pushing herself up. Figuring it was the delivery guy, she grabbed her purse to make sure she had enough cash for a decent tip—it was a whole fifteen minutes earlier than promised.
MIna opened the door and froze.
Her father-in-law stood there.
“...Dad?” she blurted. “This is… unexpected.” That didn’t even cover it. She could count on one hand how many times he had set foot in their house in the two years she and Seojun had been married. It also hit her then that she’d never been alone with him. Not once.
“Yes, I assume it is. May I come in?”He stepped past her before she managed a word, and her chest tightened. Even after all these years, he still rattled her. His voice always had this Sinister—formal, clipped, a little predatory.
“Seojun’s not here,” Mina said quickly, keeping a hand on the door like she hoped he’d take the hint and leave.
“Yes, I know. He’ll be gone the whole weekend, won’t he?” His eyes swept casually across the living room. “But that’s fine. It’s you I came to see, Mina.” That hit her wrong. He never called her by name. As she shut the door, dread slid down her spine.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, looking over her sketches.
“Oh—no, not… not really,” Mina stammered. “I was just—working on—”
“I see you’ve had some wine. Maybe you should pour another. I’ll take a glass as well.” He nodded toward her half-finished drink.
“Right. Sorry—I should’ve offered. I’ll get it.” Mina hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a clean wine glass, then paused. Her hands were shaking. Afraid she’d drop it, she set it down on the counter and forced herself to breathe. She needed to pull herself together. She wasn’t going to let her father-in-law get under her skin. He was probably here with another one of his offers to pay her to leave Seojun, and the faster she shut it down, the sooner he’d walk out.
After counting to ten, she picked up the glass and the bottle and returned to the living room. He had already taken a seat on the couch. She handed him the glass and poured until he lifted a finger. She placed the bottle on the table. He took a sip and let out a satisfied breath.
“Ah, the ‘85,” he said, admiring the label. “Excellent vintage. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes… I guess so,” Mina replied.
“Well, you wouldn’t know. You weren’t even born then.” He topped off her wine and handed it back. “Join me, of course.”
“Cheers.”
Mina reluctantly took a swallow, then set the glass down.
“Dad,” she said, trying to steady her voice, “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to drink with me. So if you don’t mind, just say whatever you came to offer so I can tell you no. I really need to get back to work.”
He turned toward her with a thin smile. “And here I thought you were afraid of me. Looks like you’ve got some claws after all. Very well, Mina. Straight to the point.” He folded one leg over the other. “I’m sure it doesn’t shock you that my wife and I have never viewed you in the most favorable light. And frankly, you are not the partner we would have chosen for our son.”
Harsh as his words were, she’d heard versions of them before, and her face didn’t so much as twitch.
“And yet, despite all our attempts, it seems we’re stuck with you. My son insists he’s attached to you—so he says. A shame, really. I assume it has everything to do with whatever you’ve got on under those fabric.”
Mina became painfully aware that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and the fan blowing across the room had her nipples standing tight under the thin, worn fabric. He didn’t bother hiding where his eyes went. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of watching her squirm. Heat surged up her chest as her fingers curled hard around the arms of the chair while he took another calm sip.
“What do you want, Dad?” she snapped, pushing up from the chair and stepping into his space.
He held the wineglass by the stem, turning it with his thumb and index finger, studying the red swirl as if it mattered more than her question.
“What do I want?” he echoed. He finally shifted toward her. “I want what any husband wants—my wife content. And nothing would please her more than seeing you gone.”
He stood, taking deliberate steps until her back hit the wall. His hand slipped into his coat, and for a second she thought he might pull a gun. Instead he produced a handkerchief and blew his nose. But the thought that he could do something drastic sat heavy in her stomach, and her hands trembled.
“Y-you’re not… you’re not going to kill me, are you?” Mina stammered.
His head jerked up.
“Kill you?” he barked. His stare sliced through her, then he let out a sharp, ugly laugh that made her skin crawl. “Maybe that’s how things are handled in whatever you crawled out of. But if I ever intended to kill you, trust me—no one would know. Least of all you. Killing is crude. I’d like to think I’m a bit more refined than that.”
He moved to the bookcase, lifting the framed wedding photo of Mina and Seojun. His finger traced the silver border as he spoke. “Besides, that would ruin the plans I have for you. Oh yes. Ruin them completely.” He glanced back at her, and if Mina didn’t know better, she could swear there was something hungry in his eyes.
“You see, Mina,” he went on, turning fully toward her. “What would truly make my wife happy is a grandchild.”
Grandchild? The word slammed into her. That’s what this is about? She and Seojun had agreed to wait until later. Then the shop took off, and the topic had simply drifted.
“She always pictured a big family. But after the miscarriage, the surgery… that was over. She’s spent years waiting for her only son to hand her a grandchild, a legacy. And you haven’t given the Lee’s name a thing. Too busy burning through Seojun’s money on your little shop of yours?”
Mina couldn’t hold back anymore. She stepped right up to him—or as close as her height allowed, stretching onto her toes just to meet his stare.
“I’m sorry, Dad, but whether Seojun and I have kids or not isn’t any of your business. Or Mom’s.”
“Oh, I disagree.” His eyes sharpened. “Seojun’s told me himself he wants children, but he’s too gentle to pressure you because he loves you.” The smile vanished as he suddenly shoved her back into the wall, trapping her arms at her sides. Mina fought to pull free, but he was too big—too tall and definitely heavier than hers.
“Nonsense,” he growled. “There’s only one reason a man marries a woman—breeding. Keeping her belly full of his seed and her breasts full of milk for as long as possible. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen to you.”
“Y-you… want me and Seojun to have a baby?” she squeaked.
“That would be ideal. But Seojun would never force you before you’re ‘ready.’ At that rate, I’d be in the ground before I ever saw a grandchild. I don’t have the luxury of waiting the way he does.”
Her throat dried out. She could barely get air in.
“W... what are you saying?” she forced out.
His voice didn’t waver. “What I’m saying, Mina, is that tonight you and I are going to make a child for Seojun and my wife. I’m going to fuck you and get you pregnant—since that’s the kind of direct phrasing you’re used to—and once you’re carrying, I’ll keep fucking you stupid and drinking the milk from those soft breasts of yours.”
The moment she met his eyes, she understood he meant every word about forcing a pregnancy on her.
“You can’t do that,” Mina burst out, stunned.
“Oh, you’ll learn I absolutely can.” His hand slipped off her wrist and closed around her breast, kneading it through the thin shirt. Even with how much she hated him, the heat of his touch dragged arousal out of her body, wetness already forming. She realized if she didn’t open her mouth now, this situation was going to cross a line she couldn’t undo.
“I wouldn’t get pregnant even if you fucked me tonight,” Mina snapped back. “I’m on the pill.”
“That’s what Dr. Jiho wants you to think.”
Her eyes flew open. How the hell did he even know her gynecologist’s name?
“Mina, the Lee’s family has an entire hospital wing under their name. And my brother sits on the board. One call from me, and your records are wide open. Your pills? Swapped out. You’ve been swallowing sugar tablets for three months. And with two weeks left before your next period, you’re as fertile as you get.”
The breath left her in a sharp gasp. If he wasn’t bluffing, she could get pregnant right here, right now.
“I’m telling Seojun,” Mina shot back, clinging to the threat.
“And say what? That his father—the man who’s openly hated your guts for years—has actually been burning for you the entire time, enough to fuck you and put a baby in you? Even if every word is true, my son won’t buy it. Not from anyone, not even from that pretty little mouth you’re using right now.”
He leaned in and captured Mina’s lips, dragging his tongue along the seam before forcing her mouth open. Her arms were pinned, giving her no room to turn away. The kiss tore a shiver through her body—wrong, unwanted, but frighteningly good. Mina was trembling when he finally broke away and ran his tongue over his own lips.
“So sweet,” he murmured, his hand sliding right back to her breast.
“I’ll tell your wife,” she snapped, voice shaking as he pinched and twisted the tight nub of her nipple.
He let out a low laugh. “Who do you think suggested it?” he said. “A perfect revenge plan, isn’t it? Forcing someone you hate to carry the baby of a man she hates even more. It’s beautiful. And you will carry this child.” His tone cut suddenly flat. “If I find out you get an abortion, you’ll learn exactly what it means to cross Lee’s family”
Mina’s jaw locked, tears streaking down her cheeks. “What makes you think I’ll agree to any of this?”
“Oh, several things,” he answered, smug enough to make her stomach flip. “First, check your bank statements. You’ll notice a few wire transfers from Seojun’s trust fund to account under your name. If you refuse—though we both know you won’t—I’ll simply mention it to Seojun. He’ll be crushed, pull his investment from your little dress shop, divorce you, and leave you with absolutely nothing.” He lifted her wine glass with two fingers. “Second, I slipped something into your drink. In a few minutes, you won’t just be horny—you’ll be desperate. You’ll be begging me to fuck you full. So really, Mina, it’s simple. Let me get you pregnant and carry my child… or refuse and lose Seojun, your money, and everything you’ve built.”
Mina stared into his eyes and understood he wasn’t bluffing. Panic crawled up her spine. She needed a way out, but her thoughts were muddled and slow. The only thing she could focus on was the way his hand kneaded her breast—firm, possessive. This was happening. There was no stopping it. Her shoulders sagged, defeated, and Mina gave a reluctant small nod.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now strip, you little slut.”
Tears slid down Mina’s face as she pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her perky breasts. Cool air brushed her skin, the chill tightening her nipples into sharp pink points.
“Yes… perfect,” he breathed, his eyes locked on her chest. He reached out and grabbed her breasts, thumbs dragging over the stiff tips. Then he bent down and wrapped his mouth around one nipple, tongue circling before his teeth grazed lightly and he sucked hard. Heat flushed through her, the wet pull of his mouth sending a helpless sound out of her throat. He moved to the other breast, sucking greedily, and she felt her body respond—her pussy getting wetter, her legs weak beneath her.
He pulled back with a low hum, while his hand still gripping her breast. “Your child will feed well from these,” he murmured, tracing his other finger down the center of Mina’s flat stomach before slipping beneath her waistband. His palm pressed against her bare skin, fingers sliding along her damp folds, making her legs twitch.
“Look at you,” he said, voice rough. “Already so wet, Mina. It hasn’t even taken full hold yet—this is just you. A filthy little thing, getting excited for a man who isn’t your husband, letting him prepare your body for his seed.” His breath was hot against her thigh as he hooked his fingers in her sweatpants and dragged them down. Mina legs were forced apart, leaving her bare and trembling before him.
Rage and humiliation burned through her, but beneath it all—undeniable arousal. Mina could feel the heat of his mouth against her skin a moment before his tongue dragged along her hairless slit. His fingers spread her open, exposing every sensitive part to him. He flicked his tongue over her clit, teasing with quick strokes before grazing it lightly with his teeth, then sucking hard enough to make her gasp.
No euphemisms, no softening—just the raw physicality of the moment, the blunt reality of what was happening to her body against her will. Every sensation was heightened: the rough scrape of his stubble against her inner thigh, the wet heat of his mouth, the way her own breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as he worked her pussy with deliberate cruelty.
Mina’s body arched as pleasure crashed over her in relentless waves, her stomach muscles clenching tight. Knees buckled beneath her, fingers digging into his shoulders for balance. Breath came ragged now, chest heaving as his tongue worked its way—then plunged deeper into the tight, forbidden place he was already claiming, triggering an explosive release that left her shaking, voice breaking with moans.
He straightened in front of her, smirking. “You enjoyed that,” he said, voice rough with satisfaction. “Sweetness on my tongue—just as I pictured. Ripe for planting.” His gaze raked over her bare skin. “No wonder my boy keeps you around. Must be quite the ride between those thighs.”
Without warning, his arms banded around her, muscles flexing as he lifted her effortlessly off the ground. The realization hit like a physical blow—this was happening. Mina pointed toward the guest room door with a trembling hand.
“In there,” she managed to say, pointing to the guest room,
“Oh no,” he muttered as he passed through the doorway. “If we’re doing this, it might as well be in your own marriage bed.” He walked straight down the hall, pushed open the master bedroom door with a kick, and carried her inside. He set her down on the mattress with deliberate care, then spread her thighs apart like he couldn’t wait another second.
“And now, I’m going to enjoy this properly,” he said, lowering himself between her legs again. His mouth sealed against her swollen pussy, and the moment his tongue slid into her, she let out a sharp breath. Wet heat poured out of her so quickly he couldn’t even keep up, his chin already slick as he pushed deeper. Mina’s head dropped back, eyes shut, the pleasure rushing up before she could brace for it.
Her nipples tightened without warning, the skin around them prickling hard, and she grabbed the back of his head with both hands, dragging his face deeper between her legs. Her hips jerked, grinding against his mouth as if her body had made the decision for her.
“Ah—fuck, I’m gonna cum!” she choked out, her voice cracking as her stomach tightened and her hips bucked off the bed. Her hands flew to her chest, squeezing and twisting her nipples in the same rhythm as his tongue working her clit. The sensation ripped through her in a brutal wave, and the second she felt his teeth close around her clit, her orgasm detonated.
“Oh—shit—fuck—ahhh!” The sounds tore out of her, raw and unfamiliar, as her body spasmed through the release. Mina barely registered him lifting his head, leaving her spread open and gulping for air.
“That one hit you hard, didn’t it?” he said casually. “It was kicking in. Give it a little more time and you’ll be begging me to put a baby in you.” Something brushed her lips, and she forced her eyes open.
He was straddling over her now, fully naked, his thick cock hovering just a breath away from her mouth.
Mina had only ever seen him wrapped in those strict three-piece suits, so having him naked in front of her hit like a shock. Under all that fabric he’d been hiding a body carved like a stone idol—shoulders, chest, everything hard and defined. At that age he still looked close to his son, except for one difference: the cock hanging between his legs. Seojun’s eight inches had been the biggest she’d ever taken. Minjun’s was easily two inches longer, thicker too, and it wasn’t even fully hard yet. The swollen head was already dripping precum.
“Get it ready,” he told her. “Make me hard enough to give you the baby you’ve been wanting.”
Mina inhaled once to steady herself, then wrapped her lips around the head, tongue pressing into the slit and flicking inside.
“Oh, that’s it,” he groaned as she pushed down farther, taking as much as she could. Mina could always deep-throat her husband and swallow all of him without trouble, but his size forced her to stop halfway, only four inches before her throat locked up. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and started using her mouth, dragging himself in and out, each thrust hitting the back of her throat and pushing out a raw gag.
“Yes, Mina… just like that. You really know how to suck a cock. Must’ve had plenty of practice, you filthy little thing.” His free hand slid down and pinched her nipple, rubbing the sensitive spot in tight circles, sending a hard jolt straight to her core. Wetness seeped from her pussy in a steady mess, running down to her asshole and soaking into the bedspread.
He was fully hard now, groaning as her mouth worked him. Then he pulled free, letting his cock fall from her lips before lowering himself to her chest again. The moment his mouth covered her nipples, her whole body tightened, an orgasm rising before she could catch her breath.
“You really do have incredible breasts,” he murmured against her skin, lips dragging over the soft flesh. “Firm, full… and they’ll be so juicy once they start leaking milk. Tell me you want that, Mina. Say it.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“I want my tits to swell with milk for you… I want you drinking from them.”
“Soon, sweetheart. Very soon. But first we need to get you pregnant. Should I do that now? Should I turn you into my pregnant little slut?”
“Yes, yes,” Mina gasped, too far gone to argue about anything. She just needed to cum. “I want your baby, Dad. Get me pregnant… fuck your son’s wife and put a child in me. Fill me and make me a mom with your seed.” Even as the words left her mouth, she couldn’t believe they were hers.
“Oh, listen to you. You’re unbelievable,” he scoffed, voice low and mocking. “A married woman begging another man to knock her up? You really are a slut. But who am I to deny a slut what she begs for?” He pressed his cock head against her tight entrance, dragging her own slick across it. “Tell me, Mina. You want this?”
“Yes! God— I… I need it. I need to cum. Put it in, please.”
“With a condom?”
“No. No,” she panted. “I want you in my womb. I want you to put a baby in me.” She didn’t mean it, but her mouth refused to stop.
“If that’s what you want, sweetheart.” he eased himself into her, stretching her open until she felt like she might tear. “So damn tight, Mina. Tight and soaked. Your pussy feels perfect on my cock. I’m going to feel even better inside you when I give you that baby.”
He pushed deeper, and Mina felt herself being split wide. She had never been this full. Pain rose sharp, but he circled her clit with his fingers, and the sting melted fast. He had only sunk halfway in when he pulled back out, and Mina moaned at the sudden emptiness. Another orgasm surged up fast—then right as she came, he slammed all the way inside her.
“Ahh!” she cried, the mix of pain and pleasure ripping through her as she grabbed onto him.
“There, there,” he murmured, staying buried inside her. “Let that small pussy get used to me.” He lowered his mouth to her chest, kissing across her breasts, his lips soft and warm. Her body shook. Every touch wired straight to her pussy—her ribs, her stomach, the sides of her breasts—everywhere he kissed jolted her, made her tremble harder. Before Mina realized it, she was moaning again, and he was sliding his cock in and out of her tightness with ease. He hooked her legs around his waist and pushed in deeper. She cried out when he hit her cervix, the smack of his balls against her asshole making her body clamp around him.
“You’re loving this,” he whispered against her ear. “So wet, so ready for my cock. And look at your nipples—hard and raw, just like they’ll be when you’re carrying my baby.” He wasn’t wrong. Whether from the substance or the heat of it, this was the hardest, roughest she’d ever been fucked.
Then he suddenly pulled out and sat at the edge of the bed. He took Mina by the arm, lifted her up, and with both hands gripping her breasts, pushed her straight down onto his cock again.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she rode her father-in-law’s cock, the slick friction sending jolts through her body. His rough hands clamped onto her breasts, fingers digging into tender flesh, twisting her nipples until sharp pain blended with pleasure. Mina braced herself against his thighs, nails biting into muscle as he drove deeper with every thrust.
Then—one final, brutal push. He bottomed out inside her, forcing a choked cry from her lips. The sudden stretch bordering on pain made her vision blur. Mina was so close to the edge, her muscles coiled tight.
“Ahh! Mina, I’m hitting your cervix now,” he growled. “Should I flood this fertile cunt with my cum?”
“Yes!” she panted, her voice breaking. “I need to cum—fuck me hard, Daddy!”
He surged up into her, mouth crashing against hers, teeth sinking into her lower lip. His fingers crushed her nipples harder still, the ache radiating through her chest as he hammered upward again.
“Want my seed in you?” he demanded. “Want this womb stuffed full?”
“Yes! God, yes—I want it!” She whimpered, hips jerking against him. “Get me pregnant for both of you. Fill me up so my tits swell with milk—ahh!”
His hands left her throbbing nipples—red and swollen from his rough treatment. One arm banded around her waist while the other dropped to her clit, working his fingers with brutal precision. Mina felt her walls fluttering around him, body trembling as pleasure coiled tighter.
“You feel it, don’t you? You’re right at the edge. Your own body’s turning against you. Your womb’s begging to get bred, and your pussy’s about to pull it out of me. You’re squeezing my cock so hard, Mina. I’m about to lose it. Just cum—pull it out of me and take it.”
That was all it took to shove Mina over. Her hips jerked and her pussy clamped tight around his cock, every muscle dragging at him like she wanted him buried even deeper. His hand slid under her and his mouth closed over a waiting nipple, sucking hard enough to rip another orgasm straight out of her. Her whole body shook, her legs trembling, and she felt him swell inside her—harder, thicker, his entire length going rigid under her weight.
A second later Mina felt the surge—hot, heavy bursts shooting deep into her already burning cunt. The pressure, the heat, the flood at her core pushed one last climax through her body, her pussy milking him automatically, dragging every pulse toward her womb. He kept unloading inside her for what felt like a full minute, hands locked on her hips, keeping her pinned so he didn’t slip out until he’d emptied everything.
They didn’t move for a long stretch, both breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. He absentmindedly brushed his fingers over her breasts, the touch too much for her overstimulated body—enough to make another small orgasm roll through her, sharp and exhausting. Mina couldn’t stop the thought that flickered through her mind: if she had any eggs waiting, they didn’t stand a chance now.
Eventually he guided them down onto the bed, easing her against the sheets. Exhaustion crashed over her fast. She drifted off in his arms without another word.
Mina woke later with a sharp need to pee, her father-in-law still wrapped tightly around her. She slipped out of his hold, moving toward the bathroom on shaky legs. The second she sat down, she saw the sticky mess smeared between her thighs. After she finished, she grabbed a warm washcloth and wiped herself clean, watching the white streaks disappear.
When she lifted her eyes to the mirror, everything hit her at once.
Mina hadn’t seriously thought about motherhood in a long time. She always assumed she’d have kids someday, but it lived in the background of her life, not right in front of her. Now her father-in-law’s cum soaking inside her womb had dragged the idea out of the shadows and slammed it into her mind.
Was she pregnant right now?
Could she even handle having a baby?
Money wasn’t an issue. But her store and clothing line were finally gaining traction, and she flew to Seoul or Busan with almost no notice. None of that worked with a baby on her belly.
And then there was Seojun.
If she was pregnant, this child would be his sibling.
Mina let out a long breath. Her brain couldn’t untangle any of it. It was too much and she was too tired. She switched off the bathroom light and opened the door.
The bedroom light was on. He was already awake, leaning on his side, watching her like he’d been waiting.
“Hope you’re not trying to sneak out because of me,” he said, curling his mouth into that crooked grin.
Mina crossed her arms over her chest. “I just went to the bathroom.”
His voice came low and smug. “You didn’t do anything stupid, right? Because if you wiped it off, I’ll just put more in.” Then he hauled Mina onto the bed beside him, one hand locking around her ass and dragging her into the heat of his body. His muscles were like a wall against her front, and his cock was already hard, nudging impatiently against her thigh.
The moment her skin touched his, his mouth dropped straight to her chest—biting, licking, sucking at her breasts like he had every right to them. Each pull of his tongue made she wetter, needier, her breath catching fast. Right as Mina felt the edge coming up tight under her skin, he flipped her onto all fours, and shoved himself back inside her in one full, deep push. His hands clamped down around her hips as he started driving in and out of her. Fucking her hard and fast with relentless pace.
“Yeah… yes—harder,” she gasped. “Fuck me, Daddy. I need to cum. Make me cum.”
“Patience, darling. It’s coming,” he muttered, reaching up to pinch her nipples hard between his fingers. “Every time I picture milking these, I get even harder.”
Mina’s whole body trembled, the pleasure winding tight in her spine.
“Don’t stop—Dad, don’t stop. I’m close, I’m so close—”
“That’s it,” he growled. “Beg. Beg for your father-in-law’s sperm.”
“I want it,” she panted out. “Please, Daddy. I want your sperm—give it to me.”
He stayed buried inside her as he wrapped both arms around her small waist and pulled her upright against him. His lips found her neck, sucking at the skin while his hands twisted at her nipples again. Then he slid one hand down, tapping her clit in steady pulses that made Mina’s knees shake.
“Cum with me, Mina,” he breathed against her ear. “Cum, and the same seed that made your husband is going to put a baby in you. I can feel your pussy pulling at me. Keep sucking me in, and you’ll pull my sperm right where it needs to go.”
Mina’s whole body tightened, the pleasure snapping through her as she came hard. He locked his grip on her hips—tight enough to bruise—and she felt him stiffen behind her before his voice broke into a shout. A second later, the heat of him pumped deep inside her again, filling her until she couldn’t think.
Mina collapsed forward onto the mattress, her ass still lifted, displaying everything, his cock still inside her, the cum that spilled out her tight pussy that still wrapping him at the base. Their mixed warmth slid deep and heavy through her, and Mina couldn’t stop picturing his sperm pushing further in, already trying to make her pregnant if it hadn’t succeeded last night.
…
When she woke the next morning, he was gone. Relief rushed through her as she slipped on her bathrobe and headed downstairs, head throbbing.
“Morning.”
Mina froze. He was sitting at the kitchen table like he lived there, wearing Seojun’s bathrobe, drinking coffee.
Her irritation spiked instantly.
“Why are you still here?” she snapped, moving straight to the cabinet for the pill bottle.
He clicked his tongue at her like she was misbehaving, watching her shake out the Aspirin tablets.
“Someone’s in a mood,” he said casually, taking another sip. “Eat something first. You’ll feel better.”
Mina grabbed a glass of water and washed the pills down. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon hit her, sharp and comforting at the same time, and her stomach tightened with hunger. She hadn’t eaten since the previous afternoon. When she looked toward the table, it was already set—omelets, a bowl of fruit, a plate stacked with foods.
“Come sit,” he said, dragging a chair out for her. Mina hesitated, heat still simmering under her skin, but hunger shoved everything else aside. She sat and picked up a fork, taking a bite of the omelet, the warmth and salt hitting her instantly.
“This tastes great,” she muttered.
“Just one of my skills,” he replied, smug as usual. “Eat.”
They ate quietly. Mina ended up eating more than she expected, and seeing that only made him grin wider. When she finally put the fork down, she exhaled. “Thanks for the food. I assume you’ll be heading out now.”
“Oh, no,” he said, rising from his chair.
“What?” Her stomach flipped, and not from hunger this time. He moved behind her and set his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs digging in.
“My son won’t be home for two more days. You think I’m going to waste a weekend like this? I told you already—I’m filling you up again and again until you’re bred.”
He tugged Mina’s robe off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the cool air.
“No—wait,” she gasped, but his fingers pinched her nipples hard enough that a moan tore out of her. Mina head dropped back against the solid line of his stomach, her body loosening under his touch without thought. He pulled her up from the chair, turned her, and bent her over the table. He flipped the robe up, spreading her legs open. Air moved against her pussy, and Mina could feel how wet she already was. He slid his fingers through the slick, smearing it across her clit.
Then he lowered himself and started licking her, sucking on her pussy lips and swallowing everything she let out.
“Aah—” she choked as his tongue pushed inside. He abruptly stood, and the next second his cock shoved into her from behind, filling her completely. The heat of him made her shiver. He thrust slow at first, dragging it out, making her hips start to grind back against him, her body begging for harder movement.
“Your mouth says no, Mina, but your body’s already open for me. You’re in heat, and that fertile cunt of yours wants a baby,” he growled.
Mina tried to push up to get him deeper, but he forced her down, pinning her chest to the cold marble. The chill against her nipples made them ache.
“Dad—god—fuck me—fuck me, make me cum,” she cried out, her voice breaking.
“Yes, yes… soon,” he panted. “I’ll fill you again, pump you full of cum until it takes. Maybe more than one. Fuck—your pussy’s feels amazing, Mina. You’re going to be even better when you’re pregnant. I’m close—so close.”
He locked his grip on her hips and snapped into her, faster, rougher, each thrust rocking her. Mina felt her pussy tighten around him, the first wave tearing through her. Another orgasm crashed right after, faster than she could catch her breath. He drove into her one last time, groaning as he emptied himself inside her. Mina came again right as his cock pulsed, her body shaking.
She stayed folded over the table, breathing hard, until he lifted her up and carried her toward the bedroom.
For the next two days she moved through the house in a constant, aching heat. There was barely a moment when her father-in-law wasn’t buried inside her—either pushing his cum deep into her or keeping it there with the weight of his cock. Mina hated and craved it at the same time; hated that he was forcing another man’s child into her body, but also knowing it was the most intense sex she’d ever had. He used her in every position he wanted, though he preferred when Mina straddled him and rode him herself, taking his load straight into her belly. Every time the thought of being knocked up by him crossed her mind, the mix of excitement and dread twisted her gut.
He finally left on Monday evening, just a few hours before Seojun came home. The second Seojun stepped through the door, Mina grabbed him and dragged him into the shower, clinging to him and praying he wouldn’t notice how loose and overstretched she felt.
The following two weeks were the most unbearable of her life. Sleep barely came, food tasted like nothing, and her nerves never settled. Whenever her husband asked why she was so wired, she lied and blamed it on fashion week. That always made him laugh, pat her shoulder, and remind her she was the best designer in the industry and had nothing to worry about. She loved how steady he was, how instinctively he tried to support her, but it made her stomach twist wondering how he would react if she really was pregnant. Mina considered asking him, testing the waters, but she couldn’t bring herself to mention anything until she absolutely had to.
Sure enough, her period never came. The test in her hand showed a bright pink plus sign, and her pulse hammered in her ears. Mina stared at it, then at the box on the counter. It said to consult a doctor for a more accurate result. That tiny line gave her hope. False positives happened. They did. People talked about them all the time.
The bathroom door suddenly swung open, and Seojun stood there blinking.
“Oh—sorry, babe, I didn’t know you were in h—” His eyes dropped to the test in her hand. “Wait… is that what I think it is? Is that… are you…?”
Mina turned the stick so he could see the window.
“Oh my god, Mina, you’re pregnant? We’re gonna have a baby?”
“Yes. I’m going to have a baby,” Mina answered, the words tasting strange coming out of her mouth.
Seojun dropped to his knees in front of her, cupping her face with both hands before kissing her hard, like he couldn’t hold himself back.
“Honey, this is amazing,” he said against her mouth.
“You’re… not upset?” she asked carefully.
“Upset? Why would I be upset? Honestly, I’m just surprised, ‘cause you’re on the pill and all—”
“It’s only ninety-nine-point nine percent effective,” she cut in fast. “I guess I’m the point one.”
“I always knew you were one in a million.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she let herself sink into his arms, praying the test was wrong.
Two weeks later she found out it wasn’t. The doctor told her she was four weeks pregnant. She lay on the exam table staring at the tiny dot on the ultrasound screen, and the reality slammed into her. She was pregnant. She was going to be a mother. It should have been the happiest moment of her life, but the knowledge that the baby wasn’t Seojun’s twisted everything, and tears spilled before she could stop them.
Then another thought settled in. This didn’t have to be a punishment. Even if her father-in-law had done it to hurt her, he had still left her with a small life growing inside her body. And she knew instantly that she loved this baby—no matter where it came from.
Seojun was ecstatic when she called. He wanted to announce it to everyone immediately, practically shouting through the phone, and she barely managed to talk him down from blasting it to the entire world before she even hit her second trimester.
Later that afternoon, when she returned to work, her assistant approached her desk.
“You have a phone call.”
Mina picked it up, and her father-in-law’s voice slid through the line. Her throat locked. Of course he knew. Damn that doctor, she thought.
“I hear congratulations are in order, my dear. I’ll come visit next week.”
A/N: 3 years to the day since my last fic. Hello again!
Dahyun is a dream girl.
The kind of dream where she doesn’t need to say a single word for you to follow her. She’s Kim freakin’ Dahyun. Of course you’d follow her anywhere.
The kind of dream you tell your friends. They’d say, Bullshit, how are you with her? And to be fair, you’re not sure either. A girl like her shouldn’t even exist in the same plane as a guy like you. They’d have to rewrite the laws of physics.
And yet, here she is with you.
It’s a warm summer evening. Too warm. You’d prefer the date continue somewhere with AC—like her bedroom—but after dinner, Dahyun begs to go to the pier instead. Sure, why not, you tell her. Because you like sex and making Dahyun happy gets you sex, but also because being out in public makes whatever-this-is look less like a secret and more like something you’re allowed to have.
Something real.
She hasn’t referred to you as the “b-word” yet. You know the one. But being out in public like this pretty much makes it official.
“You’d think my boyfriend would learn to keep up, not like my legs are that long,” she mutters.
And there it is. Boyfriend. She says it like it’s no big deal, like she’s been saying it for months, but you’re absolutely checking that off your Dating Dahyun bingo card.
Oh, so I’m your boyfriend now?
One word. That’s all it takes. Now she’s got you adding a bounce to your step with the stupidest, silliest smile that hurts your cheeks. Like a kid on a trampoline. Like an idiot.
Dahyun doesn’t acknowledge your stupid grin. Just keeps walking toward the end of the pier like she’s bound by Newton’s First Law.
Are you coming or not?
It’s not like she even needs to ask, but in case you need a reminder: that woman right there is Kim freakin’ Dahyun. Of course you’d follow her anywhere.
Here’s the thing: you tell her you’ll stay a couple steps behind so the would-be paparazzi won’t ruin an otherwise fine date—which is partially true—but you’re sure as hell not passing up the view. Her hips. Her ass. The whole package.
See, the thing about Dahyun is that when the weather is hot, Dahyun is hotter. Likes to wear these little nothing tops and barely-there bottoms now that it’s summer. It’s comfortable, she says. And she won’t admit it, but she loves having all these eyes on her. She does it for you almost as much as she does it for herself, which makes her even sexier.
She’s wearing this white crop top with a zipper in the front—practically a sports bra—that leaves nothing to the imagination. Completely wrong for Mingles in Gangnam, where the hanwoo costs more than your rent, but she’s Kim Dahyun and no one’s going to tell her shit. You call them titty covers when she’s not around, because that’s all they do: cover her tits and barely even manage that.
Not that you’re complaining.
Beyond that, Dahyun is braless. You didn’t know this until dinner. Mingles had the AC on full blast, arctic cold, and biology did what biology does. You tried to play it cool. Focus on your hanwoo. On what she was saying about her comeback schedule. You really tried.
But then you got an idea.
Have a bite of my steak, you kept telling her. Just an excuse to watch her lean across the table, to get that full view down her top. No bra, gravity doing its work, and you’re trying to see everything without being obvious about it. You’re certain if you stared long enough you could’ve mapped every centimeter.
Then there’s that ass. God, that ass. You swear that thing should only exist in fairytales. It’s a magic carpet ride kind of ass. A tell me, princess, now when did you last let a cock inside kind of ass. Whole new world ass! And ain’t a more fantastic point of view.
But looking wasn’t enough. All through dinner you were thinking: how do I get her alone? How do I get that top off her? When can we leave?
So here you are now, following her down the pier, and the weather’s doing you favors. It’s hot enough that her white pants are going translucent from the sweat, and you can see everything: pink panties, the outline of her ass, how little those panties actually cover. Someone should’ve told her never to wear colored underwear under white, but you’re sure as hell not going to be the one to say it.
You’re watching those hips move, the way everything shifts when she walks, her high ponytail swinging with each step. When she turns to check if you’re still following, it falls over her shoulder.
She catches you staring.
You look up, try to play if off with a smile. The damage is done.
But Dahyun just smirks. Doesn’t say anything, just gives you that look—the one that says she knows exactly what she’s doing to you—and keeps walking. She loves this. Loves having the effect. And she knows you’ll keep watching.
Then your stomach does something weird. Tightens up, won’t unknot. You tell yourself it’s the cotton candy after hanwoo (what were you thinking?) but you know that’s bullshit. You’ve eaten worse combinations at 3 in the morning and been fine.
This is something else.
And when you realize what it is, you actually stop walking.
Fuck.
This is the story of how you fall in love.
You’ve been into Dahyun since before she knew you existed, but all love stories have to start somewhere.
It starts with the third date.
Third date because Dahyun has rules. Says she doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Doesn’t even kiss until the second date. And—most importantly—refuses to have sex with a guy until at least the third date. You’ve been counting. Literally counting down like it’s Christmas.
I need to feel a connection first, she told you. Sex shouldn’t be meaningless. It should be with someone you could see yourself with for the rest of your life.
Heavy words. Scary words. Words that make you wonder what the fuck you’re doing here.
So yes, this is where it starts. The fact that she even agreed to a third date means something. Means she didn’t realize what a mess you are yet, means you managed not to fuck up the first two dates, means maybe, somehow, you’re doing something right.
She’s out here with you in public. Letting fans take photos. Knowing damn well your face will be on Dispatch tomorrow. She knows what that means, what it costs her, and she’s doing it anyway. Look at her, waving at fans like this is just another fan meeting while you hang back, trying not to look terrified. Trying not to think about how many people are going to see these photos. How many of them are going to wonder what the hell she’s doing with you.
“You sure it’s okay to be out in public like this? We don’t have to do this, y’know.”
“Wouldn’t have brought you otherwise. Now come on or we’re gonna miss it.”
There’s a reason Dahyun begged to come here after dinner. At the end of the pier: a ferris wheel. Her favorite place. She mentioned it on the first date—how she loved watching fireworks from up high, how she’s only ever taken a handful of very special people up there.
Very special. That’s what you are now, apparently. You’re trying not to think too hard about what that means. Trying not to wonder if you’re actually special or if you just happened to be available when she wanted someone to take on the third date.
When she climbs the stairs to the front of the line and flashes her celebrity card for an immediate ride, you’re thinking about how to show her she’s special to you too. You’re thinking you need to get this right.
It starts with holding her hand.
At first, Dahyun’s back jolts in surprise. Her first instinct is to pull back—it’s what she’s trained to do as an idol in a public place. But then she realizes. Oh. She reaches out again, back into your grasp.
Her fingers lock with yours. Tight but soft. Her palm is sweaty (so is yours, honestly—your hands are fucking drenched) and she smiles apologetically. You squeeze tighter, hoping that’s the right move, hoping you’re not squeezing too hard. You can feel her pulse racing against yours, matching rhythm.
Or maybe that’s just your own pulse. Hard to tell when your heart’s doing this.
By now, there isn’t a single person in the crowd without some kind of reaction. If they hadn’t noticed Dahyun before, they’re definitely noticing now. A few gasps. A few awws. Even a couple boos, but fuck them. The crowd becomes a sea of flashing cameras, all of them capturing this. Capturing you holding Kim Dahyun’s hand like you have any right to.
“Don’t worry about them,” she says, squeezing your hand. “They’re just jealous.”
She’s not wrong. They are jealous. Of this, of you, of what comes after. And you get it. You’d be jealous of you too.
She discreetly slides cash into the ride operator’s hand. A longer view from the top would be great, she tells him. He nods and opens the door to an empty gondola.
“Ready?” she asks, grinning.
You’re not. You’re absolutely not ready. But you nod anyway.
Normally, you hate ferris wheels. They’re slow, claustrophobic, and oh my god, why the fuck would anyone want to ride those death traps? But for Dahyun, you’d do anything.
It starts with getting into the gondola with her.
“Enjoy the ride,” the operator says, closing the door once you’ve both taken your seats. The button clicks, the wheel starts turning, and the screaming crowd fades to muffled noise below.
Finally. Alone with your girlfriend.
Except now you’re alone with your girlfriend and you have no idea what you’re supposed to do next.
“I’m a little cold,” Dahyun says, rubbing her arm.
She’s a terrible liar. It’s the middle of summer and her skin is still glistening from the heat. Sweat, not cold. But that’s not what she means anyway.
It takes you a second—because you’re an idiot, because you’re nervous, because you’re trying not to assume—but then: the way she’s looking at you, not quite making eye contact but definitely making eye contact, the slight tilt of her head.
Oh.
Oh.
She doesn’t want a jacket.
She wants you.
Your brain short-circuits for a second. Then you remember you’re supposed to do something about this.
It starts with wrapping your arm around her.
Dahyun leans her head on your shoulder, and you can feel her smiling against you. Her hair brushes your cheek. Smells like citrus, like lemon, like something distinctly Dahyun. Like yours—except she’s not actually yours, not really, even though she called you her boyfriend, even though you’re here with her right now.
“Thanks for sharing your favorite spot with me, Dahyun.” Your voice sounds weird. Too formal maybe. “Can’t think of a better way to end the night.”
Smooth. Real smooth.
Nothing beats this: Dahyun in your arms, the sun dropping into the ocean, finally alone. Just the two of you. This is perfect. This is everything. Don’t fuck it up.
But then she looks up at you.
“I can think of one way.”
Your stomach drops. Or flips. Or does something.
You’ve seen this look before. Second date, outside her apartment. She’d fumbled with her keys, then just stopped trying. Leaned against the door, waiting for you to get it, to make the move. Those same eyes. And you’d frozen then too, just for a second, before your brain caught up to what was happening.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” She’s goading you now, teasing you with that smile. Then she licks her lips.
And you’re thinking: Is this really happening? Am I reading this right?
You lean in. She leans in, eyes closing, and you know what’s about to happen except you don’t actually know because what if you’re wrong, what if—
It starts with a kiss.
It’s heaven. Not actual heaven, but god damn, those lips. Who needs fireworks when you’ve got this—her mouth on yours, urgent and soft at the same time. She tastes like cotton candy and hanwoo, sweet and savory, and you don’t care. You’d kiss her if she tasted like garbage. Any kiss with Dahyun is a good kiss.
She leans back into her corner, pulling you with her. Her arms wrap around your neck, surprisingly strong for someone so small, and she’s kissing you harder now. Deeper. Her tongue finds yours, and you’re trying to remember how tongues work, how kissing works, trying not to fuck this up.
Yeah, you’re getting into it now. One hand on her hip, right where her pants meet bare skin. The other tangles in her hair—her ponytail—and you’re hoping you’re not pulling too hard, hoping this is good, hoping she’s into this as much as you are.
Then Dahyun shifts. Moves. Before you can process what’s happening, she’s climbing onto your lap, straddling you, and the gondola rocks with the movement. Her hands on your shoulders for balance. And now she’s right there. On top of you. You can feel the heat of her through your jeans.
She makes this small sound against your mouth, and it does something to you.
Like, actually does something. Your cock twitches and you’re suddenly very aware that you’re getting hard in a ferris wheel with Kim Dahyun and she can probably feel it because she’s right in your lap.
The gondola rocks slightly. You’re maybe halfway up the wheel now, climbing higher, and all you can think about is how warm she is, how she fits against you, how this is real, this is actually real, and you really hope you don’t screw up.
Dahyun breaks the kiss just long enough to catch her breath. Her lips are red. Puffy from kissing. Eyes half-closed. She’s looking at you like she’s deciding something, and you’re trying not to think about what that something might be.
It starts with three words.
Not those ones. Way too soon for that.
“We have time,” she says. Not a question. Statement.
Your hand slides from her hip to her lower back, pulling her closer. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She’s already pulling you back in, and this time when she kisses you, her hands start wandering. Down your chest. Over your stomach. Lower. And you’re trying to stay cool. Trying to act like you do this all the time. Like you’re not internally freaking out that Kim Dahyun’s hand is heading toward your dick in a ferris wheel gondola.
The gondola jerks as it reaches the top. You’re at the highest point now, the whole city spread out below you, but neither of you is looking at the view. You’re too busy trying not to embarrass yourself.
She pulls back again. Just a hair. Her breath hot against your mouth. “I’m really glad I brought you here,” she whispers.
“Me too.” Understatement of the fucking century.
It starts with her saying: “I’m really glad it’s our third date.”
And there it is. The implication hanging between you, heavier than the summer air. Her rules. Third date. You’ve both been thinking about it all night, dancing around it, and now she’s saying it out loud.
Your heart is doing something weird. Racing. Or maybe stopping. Hard to tell.
You pull back just enough to look at her. “Here? Now?”
It’s a stupid question. You know it’s a stupid question. But your brain is shorting out because this is actually happening and you’re not sure you’re ready and what if you’re terrible at this and—
“Why not?” She’s grinning, panting. “We have time. We have privacy.” Her hand slides down your chest. “We have a third date.”
She kisses you before you can respond—which is good because you’re not sure what you’d say anyway—and this time it’s different. Urgent. Her hands are tugging at your shirt, and you’re thinking about logistics—how this even works, where you are, what if someone sees, what if you come too fast, what if—but then she’s in your lap and you stop thinking entirely.
It starts with a question.
“Did you bring a condom?”
You blink. “What?”
Fuck. No. You didn’t. You absolutely did not.
“Tzuyu has the apartment tonight for her date, and you know how distracting she can be.”
Distracting. That’s one word for it. Cockblock is another.
Tzuyu. Fucking Tzuyu. The girl’s a certified nympho who loves putting on shows for any dick that gets her pussy wet. Ever since her sexual awakening with her latest boy toy, she won’t stop fucking. Like, at all. Every night. Sometimes during the day. You know more about Tzuyu’s sex life than you ever wanted to know.
You know this because of your second date with Dahyun. Had her pinned against her apartment door, mid-makeout, finally making progress, when Tzuyu’s voice cut through from inside: Please, daddy, fuck me harder, I’ve been such a good girl.
Then the spanking. Loud. Like she was trying to win an award.
Thank you, daddy. Thank you, daddy.
You’re fairly certain if not for Tzuyu’s porn audition, Dahyun would’ve broken her no-sex-until-third-date rule right there. Instead, here you are, trying to figure out the logistics of fucking your girlfriend in a ferris wheel and realizing you forgot the one thing that would actually make it possible.
“Aren’t you worried about people seeing us?” you ask. Stalling. Because you need to figure out how to tell her you fucked up.
“Why do you think I paid the guy for a longer ride? Besides, it’s dark enough now. No one will see.”
For a supposedly “conservative” girl, Dahyun really does like to get freaky. Your first time having sex with her and she picks a ferris wheel. A ferris wheel. You’re already thinking about what comes after this—all the places you’ll fuck her once she’s comfortable, all the things she’ll let you do—except you’re not going to get to any of that because you forgot the goddamn condom.
You reach for your wallet anyway. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe past-you was smarter than you remember.
You check.
Fuck.
It starts with breaking the bad news to her.
“Uh, no?” You try to say it like it’s not a big deal. Like maybe she was joking. Like maybe this isn’t the worst possible answer. “I don’t—I mean, I didn’t think—”
Her face falls. Lips pressed together. Chin wrinkling. That universal look of disappointment that makes you want to die.
You know that look. That’s the you’re-not-getting-laid-tonight-buddy look. That’s the you-had-one-job look. And you’re mad. Mad at yourself, mad at the world, mad that somehow you forgot the one thing that would’ve made this happen. Despite knowing this was the third date. Despite counting down to this exact moment. Despite literally thinking about nothing else for the past week.
She stares out at the ocean. Contemplative. And you’re sitting here thinking about how you’re going to explain this to your friends, how you blew your shot with Kim Dahyun because you couldn’t remember to buy condoms.
She turns back to you.
“You’re lucky I’m on the pill.”
Wait. What?
This can’t be real. This kind of thing only happens in smuts. This doesn’t happen to guys like you, and certainly not with a woman like Dahyun. You’re frozen. Actually can’t move. Can’t process what she just said.
Lucky for you, Dahyun doesn’t like to wait. She’s leaning in close, hand already sliding down your stomach, and you’re still trying to catch up to the fact that this is actually going to happen.
“Well?” she says. “Are you gonna fuck me or not?”
That snaps you back.
Oh. Okay. Yes. Definitely yes.
It starts with slipping your hand down her pants.
She’s already fucking soaked. You can feel it the second your fingers brush against her, and she gasps. Sharp. Sudden. Her whole body tenses in your lap. Her hand shoots to your wrist—not stopping you, just holding on like she needs something to grip—and you’re thinking: Holy shit, this is real, you’re actually touching her.
“Fuck,” she whispers, and hearing her swear does something to you.
Like, actually does something. Your cock jumps in your pants and you’re suddenly very aware of how hard you are, how close her body is to yours, how you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing right now.
You’re trying to process this—that you’re touching Kim Dahyun, that she’s this wet for you, that this is actually happening—when her hand finds your belt. She’s not tentative about it. Doesn’t ask. Just starts unbuckling while you’re still trying to figure out how to move your fingers in a way that doesn’t make you seem like a complete amateur.
Because you kind of are. Not a virgin, but close enough that the difference doesn’t really matter.
The gondola rocks. You’re half-worried it’s going to tip over from how much you’re both shifting, trying to find angles that work in a space barely big enough for two people sitting, let alone whatever this is about to be. Her pants are tight—those white see-through things—and you’re trying to work around them, trying to reach where you need to reach, while she’s practically wrestling with your zipper.
This is awkward. This is really fucking awkward. But also hot. Mostly hot. You think.
“Hold on,” she says.
You freeze. Your hand is still down her pants. “Something wrong?”
Fuck. You fucked up. You did something wrong. You—
“Just so we’re clear, I don’t do this with every guy I date. And definitely not in public. I’m not a slut.” She’s taking your hand out of her pants. Guides it to her chest. Lets you cup her over those titty covers.
“I wasn’t thinking that,” you tell her, even though you secretly hope she is. Even though part of you is thinking: Would it be so bad if she was?
“Good, because I like you. And I don’t want you thinking this is gonna happen on every date. Because it’s not.”
She likes you. She just said she likes you. You’re trying to hold onto that, trying to not read too much into it, trying to—
“Okay,” you manage, because you’re not sure how else to respond to that. Because your brain is basically offline right now. You’ll worry about the frequency of sex later. Right now, you’ll take whatever sex she’s willing to give you and try really, really hard not to fuck it up.
It starts with unclothing Dahyun.
It’s dragged out like a telenovela as your fingers find the zipper at the front of her crop top. You tug it down slowly. Surgical. Methodical. Painstakingly slow. She lets you do it, watching you the whole time, and your hands are shaking despite the summer heat.
Not because you don’t want this. You want this. But you only get to see Dahyun’s tits for the first time once, so you’re taking your goddamn time. You’re also stalling because once this happens, once you see her naked, there’s no going back and you’re terrified you’re going to mess this up somehow.
You pull the zipper down just enough to reveal the tiniest hint of cleavage. Then lower, savoring that view that teased you all through dinner. This is what you were trying to see when you made her lean over for bites of hanwoo. And now you’re actually seeing it. What few men have ever seen.
Lower still. The fabric parts and there they are. Small. Perfect. Nipples already hard. A bead of sweat rolls down her neck and disappears between her breasts. You want to lick it off. You want to put your mouth on her. But you’re frozen, just staring, because this is actually happening and your brain is trying to catch up.
It starts with Dahyun unzipping your pants.
She’s not shy about it either. Tugs them down along with your boxers in one motion, and your cock springs free. She pauses. Looking at it. And you’re holding your breath, waiting for her reaction, praying she’s not disappointed because you’re definitely not in porn star territory.
But she just smiles. Bites her lip. “Not bad.”
Not bad. You’ll take not bad. Not bad is great. Not bad means she’s not laughing, not walking away, not realizing she’s made a terrible mistake.
“Your turn,” you manage.
She stands as much as she can in the gondola (it’s cramped, awkward, and you’re trying not to think about how ridiculous you both must look right now) and shimmies out of those white pants. Peels them down over her hips, her thighs, kicks them aside. The pink panties you’ve been seeing the outline of all night come off with them.
And there she is. Actually naked. Kim Dahyun, completely bare in front of you.
Holy shit.
This is always the most awkward part: the first time being naked together. She’s perfect. Tight body, smooth skin, everything you’ve been imagining and more. And you’re suddenly very aware of that massive steak you had for dinner because you swear you’re usually more toned than this. Also aware that you’re just sitting here with your pants on the floor of a ferris wheel gondola and this is insane, this whole thing is insane.
But at least your cock is doing its job. Hard as hell and very clearly ready for her.
You’ve been staring. Can’t help it. Staring at her tits, at her hips, at that pussy you’ve been dying to see all night. Trying to memorize everything because what if this never happens again? What if you fuck this up and this is the only time?
She catches you looking and raises an eyebrow. “You good?”
“Yeah,” you lie. You’re not good. You’re panicking. But you’re not about to tell her that. “Get over here.”
She moves onto your lap, straddling you, and the gondola rocks with the shift in weight. Her hands rest on your shoulders for balance, and you can feel the heat of her right above your cock. Not touching yet. Close. So fucking close.
“You sure about this?” you ask, because apparently your brain picks now to have second thoughts. Now, when she’s naked on your lap and ready to go, now you’re wondering if this is a good idea.
She answers by reaching between you and guiding you to her entrance. “Does this answer your question?”
Yeah. Yeah, that answers it.
It starts with being inside her.
The first push in and she’s tight. So tight you have to go slow even though every part of you wants to just bury yourself completely. She gasps, nails digging into your shoulders, and you freeze.
Fuck. Did you hurt her? Are you doing this wrong?
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Keep going.”
You push deeper. Little by little. Trying to be gentle, trying not to fuck this up. Until you’re fully inside her. She’s hot and wet and gripping you like a vice, and you have to think about literally anything else or you’re going to come in thirty seconds like a teenager.
Baseball. Math. That weird stain on your ceiling at home. Anything.
“Fuck,” she whispers, and starts moving.
Oh no.
It starts with Dahyun bouncing up and down on you.
The angle is awkward at first. Her on top, trying to find leverage in a gondola that won’t stop swaying. Her knees are on the seat on either side of you, hands braced on your shoulders, and she’s lifting herself up and down on your cock with this focused determination that’s somehow even hotter than if she knew what she was doing.
You’re trying to help. Trying to figure out where to put your hands, whether you should be thrusting up to meet her, whether you’re supposed to be doing something other than just sitting here. You have no idea what you’re doing.
But then she figures it out. Finds the rhythm. And it’s perfect. Fuck, it’s perfect.
You’re watching her tits bounce with every movement, watching her face as she bites her lip concentrating, and you can’t believe this is real. Can’t believe you’re actually fucking Kim Dahyun in a ferris wheel gondola while the whole city lights up below you. Can’t believe you haven’t come yet.
“Oh god,” she moans, louder than she should, and you’re about to tell her to be quiet (or maybe you’re about to come, hard to tell) when you realize the gondola is starting to descend. You’re passing through the middle section now, close enough that people on the ground could probably see in if they looked hard enough.
Shit. Fuck. Are people watching? Can they see?
“Dahyun,” you start, but she’s already noticed.
It starts with getting out of view from the windows.
“Shit.” She’s pushing you down, your back flat on the seat. She’s got the full weight of her body on top of you, her soft tits pressing against your chest. You’re still inside her. Still hard. Somehow still hard. But now you’re trying to stay completely still as the gondola passes the lower section where the lights are brighter, where people are waiting in line.
Where people might see you. Might see her. Might realize what you’re doing up here.
The gondola keeps rotating. Down, then back up on the other side. The moment you’re high enough again, she sits back up.
“That was so fucking hot,” you manage. Your voice sounds weird. Like puberty all over again.
“That was close,” she replies, grinning.
Then she’s riding you again like nothing happened. Like you didn’t almost just get caught fucking in public. Like this is normal.
There’s this look in her eyes now. A fire. This time she’s more aggressive. Determined. Faster. Her hands on your chest for leverage, head thrown back, and you can hear how wet she is with every movement. The gondola is rocking—definitely noticeable if anyone’s paying attention—but she doesn’t care anymore.
You’re trying to hold on. Trying not to come. You don’t know how much longer you can last.
“Touch me,” she says, and you don’t need to be told twice.
Your hand slides between her legs, finding her clit, and the sound she makes goes straight to your cock. She’s close. You can tell by how she’s clenching around you, by how her movements are getting erratic, more desperate.
“Right there,” she gasps. “Don’t stop—fuck, don’t—”
You don’t. You keep your fingers on her clit, circling, pressing, and she’s riding you harder now, chasing it. You’re watching her face—the way her mouth falls open, the way she can’t keep her eyes focused—and you think: I’m making her feel like this. Me.
It starts with Dahyun coming.
She comes hard. Her whole body tensing, pussy squeezing you so tight you nearly lose it. But what you don’t expect is the wetness that suddenly covers your hand, your thighs, soaking into the gondola seat beneath you.
Holy shit. She squirted. Kim Dahyun just squirted all over you.
They really might have to decommission this ride when you’re done with her.
She freezes, eyes wide. “Oh my god.”
“Did you just—”
“That’s never happened before.” She’s staring down at the mess, face flushed with embarrassment now instead of arousal. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I—”
“Are you kidding?” You’re still inside her, still hard, and you pull her back down against you. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
And you mean it. You’re not just saying it. That was objectively the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you.
“But the mess—” She’s looking at your cock, at her thighs, at the evidence of what just happened.
Then she gets this look. Determined. A little mischievous. You know that look.
“Let me clean you up,” she says, and slides off your lap.
You’re about to ask what she means when she drops down between your legs, as much as she can in the cramped space, and wraps her hand around your cock.
Oh. Oh.
“Dahyun, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she says, and takes you in her mouth.
Fuck.
It starts with a lick.
She’s tentative at first. Just the tip, her tongue swirling around the head. But then she goes deeper, takes more of you, and you have to grip the edge of the seat to keep from thrusting up into her throat. She’s on her knees, head bobbing, and the gondola is starting to descend again but she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even pause.
You’re passing through the middle section now, getting lower, and anyone looking up would just see you in the gondola alone. They wouldn’t know. Couldn’t tell. But you know. You can feel her tongue working, her hand stroking what doesn’t fit in her mouth, and it’s taking everything you have not to come right now.
“Dahyun—” you warn, but she just hums around you and takes you deeper.
The gondola keeps dropping. You’re at eye level with the crowd now. Lights bright. People waiting in line. And she’s still going. Her other hand cups your balls and you nearly lose it right there.
“We’re—fuck—we’re at the bottom,” you manage, but she doesn’t care.
She pulls off just long enough to look up at you. Lips swollen. A string of saliva connecting her mouth to your cock. “Then you better stay quiet.”
She takes you back in, even deeper this time, and you have to bite your fist to keep from making noise. This is insane. Kim Dahyun is sucking your cock with people three meters away and you’re supposed to stay quiet. Right. Sure. The operator is right there, less than three meters away, loading new passengers into another gondola. People are walking past. And Dahyun is sucking your cock like she has all the time in the world.
The gondola starts ascending again and she speeds up. Faster, sloppier, her hand twisting as she strokes you. You can hear the wet sounds she’s making and it’s obscene and perfect and you’re so close—
“Dahyun, I’m gonna—”
She doesn’t pull off. Just takes you deeper—Jesus, how is she taking you that deep—and looks up at you with those eyes.
Those fucking eyes.
It starts with those eyes looking up at you.
And that’s all it takes. You’re coming. Can’t stop it. Can’t hold back. You’re coming in her mouth and you’re still trying so hard not to make noise, trying to keep it together, but you’re failing, you’re absolutely failing.
She swallows. You feel it. Feel her throat working. And she doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t stop. Just keeps her eyes on yours while she swallows everything you give her and you’re thinking: Kim Dahyun just swallowed my cum. That actually just happened.
Dahyun keeps going. Keeps sucking until you’re empty, until you’re so sensitive you can’t take it anymore, until you have to actually pull her off because it’s too much.
She sits back up. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Grinning like she knows exactly what she just did to you. “There. All clean.”
You can’t even form words. Can’t think. Just pull her back onto your lap, wiping away the last bit of cum on the corner of her mouth and letting her suck it off your finger.
The gondola is halfway up again now. Stops. Starts. Stops and the operator unloads more people onto gondolas. You’ve got time. More time than you thought. And you’re going to use every second of it.
“Lie back,” you tell her.
She blinks. “What?”
“Lie back on the seat. Trust me.”
She does, stretching out as much as she can in the cramped space, and you’re already moving, positioning yourself between her legs. Your heart’s doing something. Racing maybe. Or stopping.
It starts with folding Dahyun in half.
You hook your hands under her knees and push. Slowly. Testing. She lets you.
Further. Her knees almost to her shoulders now.
“Wait—” But she doesn’t actually want you to wait. You can tell.
You push a little more and her eyes go wide. “Oh my god.”
Her legs are pinned back now. Held in place by your hands. She’s completely open. Exposed. You can see everything—her pussy still wet, glistening, her thighs trembling, the way her stomach tenses trying to adjust.
And you’re thinking: This is real. This is actually happening.
“You okay?”
She nods. Can’t quite speak yet. Just nods.
“You sure? Because we can—”
“Yeah,” she manages. “Just—fuck—I’ve never done this before.”
You slide back in and she gasps. Sharp. This angle is different. Deeper than anything before. You can see her face perfectly now—every expression, every little reaction—and she’s looking up at you with these wide eyes like she still can’t believe this is actually happening. Like you’re both still surprised you’re here.
“Fuck,” she breathes. “You’re so deep.”
You start moving. Slow. Watching her. Her mouth falls open. Her eyebrows knit together every time you thrust in. Her tits bounce and you can’t look away. Can’t stop watching her face, her body, the way she’s completely at your mercy like this and trusting you not to fuck it up.
Except you’re not fucking it up. You’re doing this. You’re actually doing this right.
“Look at me,” you say. You need to see her eyes.
She does. Locks onto yours. And it’s too much. She’s looking at you like you’re everything, like this moment is everything, and you thrust harder just to see her face change. To see her bite her lip. To see her eyes flutter closed and then force themselves back open because you told her to look at you.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers. “Don’t—”
You’re watching where you disappear inside her. Watching your cock slide in and out of her pussy. It’s obscene how deep you’re going like this. She’s so tight, her legs pinned back opening her up completely, and every thrust makes her whimper. Fuck. You could do this forever.
Her hands grip your forearms. Nails digging in. You can feel her starting to tense again. She’s close. You can see it—the way her breathing’s getting faster, the way she can’t keep her eyes open anymore even though she’s trying.
“Look at me,” you say again.
She does. Forces her eyes open even though you can tell she wants to close them, wants to just feel it. But she looks at you because you asked. And you watch her come apart.
Her face as she comes. Mouth open. Eyes on yours. She’s saying your name like it’s the only word she remembers. Her whole body shaking, clenching around you—
And then she’s squirting again. Harder this time. It sprays up between you—hits her stomach, her chest, her face. You watch it happen. Watch her eyes go wide as she feels it hit her chin, her cheek, mixing with the sweat already there.
“Fuck,” you manage. “Dahyun—”
But she’s still coming. Still clenching around you. Her makeup is smudged now—mascara running slightly, that perfect idol face completely undone—and she’s looking at you like you just broke her in the best way possible.
You have to slow down. Have to. Or you’re going to come again and you’re not ready. Not yet.
You ease her legs down slowly. She’s shaking. Can barely hold herself up. Panting.
She stares at you. Can’t quite focus. Wipes her face with the back of her hand. Looks at the wetness there. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“I—” She looks down at herself. At the mess. At you. “That’s twice now. What the fuck are you doing to me?”
You don’t have an answer for that. Don’t even know how to put it into words.
The gondola starts descending again. This time you’re ready.
Dahyun’s catching her breath. Hair a mess. Makeup smudged. Looking at you like she’s trying to figure out what just happened. Like she’s trying to figure you out.
“You good?” you ask.
Dahyun laughs. Still shaky. “Yeah. Fuck. Yeah, I’m good.”
“Good.” You shift position. “Because we’re not done yet.”
It starts with a command.
“Turn around.”
Dahyun doesn’t question it. Just repositions: hands on the floor of the gondola, feet planted, ass up in the air facing you. Away from the window. You’re sitting back on the seat taking her in, and from this angle, she’s perfect. Completely exposed.
You slide back inside her from behind and push her shoulders down lower. Getting her face to the floor. Out of sight.
“Stay down,” you whisper, and she nods, cheek pressed against the gondola floor.
It starts with fucking Dahyun from behind.
This position is different. Deeper. You’re watching your cock disappear inside her, between those perfect pink lips, watching her ass as you thrust. The angle is insane. You can see everything.
Fuck. This might actually kill you.
You reach forward. Wrap her ponytail around your fist. Tug. Not rough, just enough to lift her head slightly, and the sound she makes—half gasp, half moan—shoots straight through you.
“Yes,” she hisses. “Pull it.”
You tighten your grip. Pull harder. Use it for leverage as you thrust deeper. Her back arches. She’s pushing back against you now, meeting every stroke. The ponytail wrapped around your knuckles. Her ass bouncing. The wet sounds of your cock sliding in and out of her.
This is going to end you.
The gondola passes through the lit section again. You slow down. Trying to keep her hidden. Trying to be subtle.
But Dahyun has other ideas.
She pushes back hard against you. Takes you deep. Lets out a moan that’s definitely not quiet. You freeze, but she doesn’t stop. Starts grinding her hips in slow circles, and you can feel every centimeter of her wrapped around you.
“Dahyun—” A warning. You glance out the window. There are people down there. They could look up. They could see.
“Let them look,” she says, and pushes back again.
She’s still mostly hidden—face down on the floor, body low—but she’s moving now. Fucking herself back onto your cock while you’re trying not to make the gondola rock too obviously. Her ponytail is still wrapped around your hand and you pull it. Harder this time. She moans again.
“You like that?” Your voice sounds rough. Raw. “Like knowing they might see?”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Fuck, yes.”
You give her what she wants. Thrust harder. Pull her hair tighter. She’s practically whimpering now. The gondola is still in the lit section. Still visible. She’s getting louder with every thrust.
You’re pretty sure if anyone looked up right now, they’d know exactly what was happening in this gondola.
And part of you doesn’t give a fuck anymore.
The moment you start ascending again, you don’t hold back.
You grip her hips and fuck her the way you’ve been wanting to all night. Deep. Fast. Desperate. She’s moaning into the floor, trying to muffle it, and you can feel her getting close again. You’re close too. Been holding back, trying to make this last, trying to—
Fuck it.
“Harder,” she gasps, and you give her harder.
The gondola climbs higher. Your hands are on her ass. Spreading her. Watching yourself slide in and out of her pussy. Soaked. Dripping. She’s saying your name between moans and you’re pretty sure the whole pier can hear her at this point but you don’t care. You’re going to come. Soon.
Can’t hold it much longer.
It starts with the beginning of the end.
The gondola reaches the top and stops. Just stops. Hanging there at the highest point.
And that’s when the fireworks start.
The first one explodes in a shower of gold and red, lighting up the night sky, and Dahyun looks back at you over her shoulder, eyes wide.
“Come inside me,” she says.
It starts with her saying that.
It starts with the fireworks exploding above you.
It starts with burying yourself as deep as you can go.
It starts with her clenching around you, coming again.
It starts with—
You come harder than you ever have in your life, and the fireworks keep exploding—gold, blue, green, white—painting the inside of the gondola in bursts of color while you’re still pulsing inside her.
For a moment, you can’t move. Can’t think. Just feel.
You’re still inside her. Still holding her hips. The fireworks are still going—pop, pop, pop—and you’re both just... there. Breathing.
You ease out slowly and she makes this small sound. Collapses forward onto her hands. You can see your cum starting to drip out of her and it’s obscene and perfect and you did that. You just did that.
“Holy shit,” you manage.
Dahyun pushes herself up. Turns around. Still on the floor of the gondola, looking up at you with this expression you can’t quite read. Her hair’s a mess. Her makeup is smudged. She’s got this post-sex glow that makes her even more beautiful and you’re thinking: I just fucked Kim Dahyun. That actually just happened.
“Yeah,” she says, like she knows exactly what you’re thinking. “Holy shit.”
She’s smiling. Not her idol smile. Something real. Something just for you.
You reach down. Help her up onto the seat next to you. She leans against you, head on your shoulder, and you can feel her heart still racing. Or maybe that’s yours. Could be both.
“That was...” she starts, then stops. Laughs. “I don’t even know.”
“Yeah.” You don’t either. There aren’t words for what that was.
The fireworks keep exploding above you. Gold. Silver. Red. You’re watching them together now, her hand finding yours, fingers lacing together. Sticky. Sweaty. Neither of you caring.
It starts with this moment right here.
This is it. The two of you at the top of the ferris wheel, watching fireworks after the best sex of your life. With Kim Dahyun. Your girlfriend. Who just let you come inside her.
This is what falling in love feels like.
“We should probably...” Dahyun glances down at herself. At you. At the mess you’ve both made. “Get dressed. Before we—”
That’s when the gondola lurches. Starts moving again. Descending.
“Shit,” she says, already scrambling. “We need to get dressed. Now.”
You’re scrambling for clothes. She finds her pants—pauses when she sees the wet spots on the seat, on the floor, evidence everywhere—then just shakes her head and pull them on anyway. You find your boxers. Her top is inside out and she’s trying to fix it while you’re pulling your jeans back up.
“Shit, I can feel it,” she mutters, adjusting her pants. Your cum. Dripping out of her. But there’s no time to do anything about it.
The gondola keeps dropping. Getting closer to the bottom. To the lights. To the operator who’s about to open the door.
Your hands are shaking. Can’t tell if it’s from what just happened or panic about getting caught.
“Your hair,” you say, and she tries to smooth it down.
“Your shirt’s buttoned wrong,” she says back, then pulls out her phone. Uses the black screen as a mirror. “Fuck. My makeup.” She tries to wipe under her eyes with her fingers. The smudged mascara. But it’s not really working.
You’re both laughing now. Rushed. Trying to look presentable. The seat is still damp. There’s no hiding that. Her pants probably have a wet spot from what’s leaking out of her. Her makeup is a mess. But maybe in the dark, no one will notice.
Maybe you’ll get away with this.
The gondola comes to a stop at the bottom. The operator opens the door.
Dahyun steps out first, still fixing her hair, and grabs your hand. Pulls you out quickly. Too quickly. Like she’s trying to get away from the gondola before anyone looks inside. Before anyone sees the mess you both made.
But then she turns to you. And she’s smiling. Not her idol smile. Something real. Something a little wild. Her makeup is still smudged. Her hair is still a mess. And she doesn’t seem to care.
She squeezes your hand. “Best third date ever,” she whispers.
And you’re thinking—despite the panic, despite everything—this is it. This is the beginning of everything.
Except—
The lights hit differently. Brighter. Harsher.
You blink.
You’re not holding her hand. You’re standing in a crowd of fans, phone out, pushed up against the barrier at the pier. The ferris wheel is still running, but you’re not on it. You’re watching it turn. Empty gondolas cycling past. And your heart is still racing from a conversation that never happened.
From sex that never happened.
From coming inside Kim Dahyun while fireworks exploded overhead except none of that was fucking real.
Someone next to you screams. You look up.
That’s when you see her. Dahyun. Walking up the stairs to the front of the line. Real. Here. Six meters away.
The crowd erupts. Cameras flash. Everyone’s pushing forward and you’re frozen. Still shaking off the daydream. The hand-holding. The kiss. Her pussy wrapped around your cock. The third date that played out so vividly in your head you can still feel her clenching around you. Still hear her moaning your name. Still taste the cotton candy on her lips.
But that wasn’t real.
None of that was real.
You just spent fifteen minutes standing in a crowd imagining you fucked Kim Dahyun in a ferris wheel. Jesus Christ.
Dahyun is a dream girl, and only just that.
The kind of dream where the ferris wheel operator calls for a single rider to accompany Dahyun and you don’t hesitate. Not for one second. You step right up. She’s Kim freakin’ Dahyun. Of course you’d share a ferris wheel ride with her.
The kind of dream you’ll tell your friends later. They’ll say, Bullshit, how did you manage that? And to be fair, you’re not sure either. A girl like her shouldn’t even exist in the same plane as a guy like you. They’d have to rewrite the laws of physics.
And yet, here you are with her.
“Enjoy the ride,” the operator says, closing the door once you’ve both taken your seats. The button clicks. The wheel starts turning. The screaming crowd fades to muffled noise below.
Finally. Alone.
Not with your girlfriend. Just alone. With her.
She glances at you as the gondola rises. Small smile. Polite. The smile she gives every fan. Then she pulls out her phone. Settles into her corner.
And you’re back to square one. Terrified. Hands sweating. No idea what the fuck to do.
The gondola rocks slightly as it climbs higher. You wait for her to say something. Anything. Maybe she’s cold. Maybe she’ll lean on your shoulder like she did in your head five minutes ago when you were imagining her coming on your cock.
She doesn’t.
Dahyun hasn’t said a word. Not that she needs to—she’s Kim freakin’ Dahyun. But sitting here in silence with her is different than you thought it’d be.
Worse, actually.
Because now all you can think about is what you were just imagining. Her bent over in front of you. Her riding you. Her coming on your cock. Her looking back at you during the fireworks and telling you to come inside her.
None of which happened.
None of which will ever happen.
You’re sitting less than a meter away from someone you’ve only ever seen from crowd barriers and phone screens. Someone you just spent fifteen minutes imagining in graphic detail. Every position. Every sound she’d make. What her pussy would feel like. How she’d taste.
And she has absolutely no idea.
She’s just scrolling through her phone. Bored, probably. Waiting for this ride to be over so she can get back to her actual life. Her actual boyfriend. Whoever the fuck that is.
And you’re sitting next to her trying not to think about the fantasy you just had. Absolutely pathetic.
You’re staring at her. You know you’re staring. The way the lights from the city below play across her face. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear. The way her ponytail falls over her shoulder. The same ponytail you just had wrapped around your fist in your head. Pulling it while you fucked her from behind. Except you didn’t. That never happened. That was all in your head.
She doesn’t notice. Or if she does, she doesn’t look back.
You could say something. You should say something. If you could just get one word out, maybe—
But what would you even say? Hi, nice to meet you, I just spent the entire ride up here imagining I was your boyfriend and we had sex and you squirted all over me and told me you loved me?
Yeah. That’ll work great. She’ll definitely want to fuck you after that.
Fuck. You’re an idiot. A complete fucking idiot.
You’ve been into Dahyun since before she knew you existed, but all love stories have to start somewhere.
Even the pathetic ones.
Even the ones that start with a guy who spent fifteen minutes imagining a whole relationship in his head.
Then your stomach does something weird. Tightens up. Won’t unknot.
And when you realize what it is, everything clicks into place.
Fuck.
You’re falling in love with her. Right now. Sitting here in silence while she scrolls through her phone.
But maybe—maybe that’s how her story starts too.
This is the story of how Dahyun falls in love.
It starts with a hello.
A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts since 2022(!), with the main character being constantly switched out between Dahyun, Chaewon, Mina, and Yoojung before I finally settled on Dahyun and decided to finish it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!
You're scanning the crowd. Today the cafeteria looks like a zoo: lots of stripes, colors, and people of different sizes. You’re trying to spot those nerdy girls from your Business Analytics class; the ones who always sit in the front row and actually take notes. Truth be told, you're nervous as hell because you know you fucked up big time, and now you need to grovel to people you've barely acknowledged all semester.
There. Corner table by the windows. You spot what has to be Haewon and Hanni hunched over a Nintendo Switch, completely in their own world. Both wearing glasses.
You take a breath and start walking over. Your rugby duffel bag is slung over your shoulder, and you're still in your practice gear (compression shirt that's probably doing you favors right now, basketball shorts). You catch a few girls checking you out as you pass, but you're too focused on not failing Business Analytics to care.
The closer you get, the more you can see them properly. Haewon's actually really pretty in that nerdy way: no makeup, glasses sliding down her nose, completely absorbed in whatever Hanni's showing her on the screen. Hanni's sitting with her back to you.
"No way, you can't catch a shiny Rayquaza that easily!" Haewon's saying.
You're about three feet away when Haewon glances up. Her eyes go wide behind those glasses, and she freezes immediately. Her mouth literally hangs open mid-sentence.
"What? Let me see—" Hanni starts to turn around, and when she spots you standing there like some kind of rugby-playing giant, she freezes too. But unlike Haewon, who looks like she might actually stop breathing, Hanni manages to compose herself a bit. She straightens up, pushes her glasses up her nose with one finger.
"Hey," you say, flashing them your best friendly smile. "Mind if I sit?"
"Y-yes!" Haewon blurts out immediately, then seems to realize how that sounds. "I mean, no! No, we don't mind. You can. Sit. Here."
Hanni just nods, clutching the Switch a bit tighter.
You swing your duffel bag off your shoulder and drop into the chair across from them. The table's one of those small four-seaters, so suddenly you're right there in their space. You sprawl out a bit - can't help it with legs as long as yours - and your knee accidentally bumps Hanni's under the table.
"Sorry," you say, pulling back a bit. "Long legs, you know?"
"It's fine," Hanni manages, and wow, her face is going red. Like actually red.
There's this awkward silence where they're both just staring at you. You need to break the ice, get them comfortable. Be the nice guy. You can do this.
Then your eyes land on the Switch still in Hanni's hands. Perfect.
"What're you playing?" you ask, leaning forward with genuine-looking interest.
Hanni glances down at the screen like she forgot she was holding it. "Oh, um. Pokémon."
"Oh shit, Pokémon!" The enthusiasm in your voice is only like sixty percent fake. You definitely know Pokémon exists. You've seen the cards and stuff. "I love Pokémon."
Both girls' eyebrows shoot up. Haewon actually leans forward a bit.
"Really?" Hanni asks, and there's this hopeful expression on her face that makes you feel slightly guilty about lying. "I didn't think... I mean, you don't really seem like the type who'd be into—" She cuts herself off, embarrassed.
"Nah, totally into it," you lie smoothly. "Been playing since I was a kid."
"What's your favorite Pokémon?" Hanni asks immediately. Behind her glasses, her eyes are sparkling.
Your mind goes completely blank. Okay… Pikachu's too obvious, they'll know you're bullshitting. There was that one... the monkey thing. From that show your little cousin watches.
"Uh, that monkey with the fire powers," you say, snapping your fingers like you're trying to remember. "You know the one."
"Chimchar?" Hanni asks, lighting up. "Or do you mean Infernape? The evolution?"
"Yeah! That one!" you say, pointing at her. You have no idea which one she said first, but you're going with it.
"Infernape's actually really good competitively,” Haewon comments with a smile. “Good taste."
"Right? He's awesome." You have no fucking clue what she's talking about, but the fact that they're smiling at you means your bullshit is working.
Hanni sets the Switch down on the table, and some of that nervous energy seems to drain out of both of them. They're still clearly on edge; Haewon keeps pushing her glasses up even though they're not sliding, and Hanni's bouncing her leg under the table, but at least they're not looking at you like you're about to eat them.
Time to address the elephant in the room.
"So, uh, about that group project," you start, scratching the back of your neck. "I'm really sorry I missed class yesterday. Rugby practice ran late and I was completely dead, so I just... crashed. But I heard that we got assigned groups?"
"Oh." Haewon straightens up. "Yeah. The professor announced it. We have to do a comprehensive market analysis for a startup company. Presentation and full report due in three weeks."
Three weeks. Market analysis. Startup company. You understand maybe half of those words in that context, but you nod like it all makes perfect sense.
"The report has to be at least thirty pages," Hanni adds. She's watching your face carefully like she's trying to gauge your reaction. "With primary research, secondary research, competitive analysis, financial projections, SWOT analysis..."
You keep nodding. You'll Google what a SWOT analysis is later.
"Sounds intense," you say, which is safe and non-committal. "But hey, I'm lucky I got grouped with you guys. You're like, the smartest people in class."
Haewon's cheeks go pink at that. Hanni ducks her head a bit, but you can see she's pleased.
"It's you, me, Haewon, and then Dahyun and Winter," Hanni explains. "We were actually just talking about when to meet up and start working on it."
"Oh perfect. When works for you guys?"
Hanni exchanges a glance with Haewon. "We were thinking Friday night? At my place? I have a house off campus, so there's plenty of room for all of us to spread out and work."
"Friday night works great for me," you say immediately. Rugby practice ends at six on Fridays, so you could shower and head over. "What time?"
"Maybe seven?" Hanni suggests. "I already asked Dahyun and Winter and they're both free. Just needed to check with you."
"Seven's perfect." You reach over and pat Hanni on the back - just a friendly gesture, the kind you do with your teammates all the time. But she absolutely freezes at the contact, and you feel how tense her shoulders are under that oversized hoodie. "This is gonna be great. Seriously, thank you guys for, you know, being cool about me missing the announcement and everything."
You pull your hand back, and Hanni seems to remember how to breathe again.
"It's... it's fine," she manages. "We all miss class sometimes."
You definitely miss class more than sometimes, but you're not about to mention that.
Haewon's been quiet for a bit, and when you glance over at her, she immediately looks away, staring very intently at a poster on the wall advertising some campus event. Her ears are red.
"Haewon's not much of a talker," Hanni explains, lowering her tone a bit. "But she's really excited about the project too. Aren't you, Haewon?"
Haewon nods quickly, still not quite meeting your eyes. "Yeah. It'll be... good."
You lean back in your chair, trying to seem relaxed and casual. "Well, I'm looking forward to working with all of you. Seriously. I know I'm not exactly the best student in that class—" Understatement of the fucking century. "—but I'll pull my weight. Promise."
Another lie, but they don't need to know that yet. Your plan is to show up, look interested, maybe contribute an idea or two, and let these genius nerds do the actual heavy lifting. It's worked before with group projects. You just need to be charming enough that they don't mind doing most of the work.
Hanni's studying you with these sharp eyes, and for a second you wonder if she can see right through your bullshit. But then she smiles, a little shy, but genuine. "I'm sure it'll be fine. We're all in this together, right?"
"Right," you agree, flashing her another smile.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket (probably your coach asking where the fuck you are for the team meeting). You should go. But you've accomplished what you came here for: made contact, established that you're a Nice Guy Who Likes Pokémon, and confirmed the Friday meeting.
"I should actually head out," you say, grabbing your duffel bag and standing up. God, the height difference is even more noticeable when you're towering over their little table. Both girls have to crane their necks to look up at you. "Got a team thing. But I'll see you guys Friday, yeah?"
"Yeah," Hanni confirms, and Haewon nods mutely.
"Cool. Oh, and text me the address?" You pull out your phone. "I don't think I have your number."
Hanni's eyes go wide. "Oh. Um. Right." She fumbles for her own phone, nearly drops it, catches it. "What's... what's your number?"
You rattle it off and watch her type it in with shaking fingers. A second later your phone buzzes with a text: hi its hanni from business analytics
You save the contact and shoot her a thumbs up. "Perfect. Alright, I'll let you guys get back to your Pokémon. Catch 'em all or whatever."
Hanni laughs, this surprised little giggle that makes her nose scrunch up. "That's not even the tagline anymore, but sure."
As you walk away, you can feel their eyes on your back. You deliberately don't look back (play it cool), but you're pretty sure you hear Haewon whisper-shriek something to Hanni the second you're out of earshot.
Phase one: complete. They think you're a nice guy who shares their interests. Friday night, you'll show up, be charming, and coast through this project on their hard work. Your grades will be saved, you won't have to waste time on boring business analysis bullshit, and everyone wins. Easy peasy.
—
Friday evening rolls around and you're standing outside Hanni's place with a grocery bag full of chips, candy, energy drinks, and some chocolates from the good section of the store. It cost you like forty bucks, but it's an investment. Gotta maintain that Nice Guy image.
The house is this cute little rental in a quiet neighborhood just off campus. You knock, shifting the bag to your other hand, and hear scrambling from inside. Footsteps, then the door swings open.
Hanni's standing there in a oversized hoodie and black leggings that hug her legs. Her glasses are slightly crooked on her face. She looks comfortable. Cute, in that nerdy homebody way.
"Oh! Hey! You're right on time."
"Wouldn't want to keep you guys waiting," you say with an easy smile. "Plus I brought supplies." You lift the bag slightly. "Figured we'd need fuel for all the brainwork tonight."
"You didn't have to do that! That's so sweet. Come in, come in."
She steps aside and you duck through the doorway (seriously, doorframes are not built for people your height).
"The girls are in my room," Hanni says, leading you down a hallway. "We figured it'd be easier to spread out in there since I have a big desk and floor space."
"Sounds good."
She opens a door at the end of the hall and you follow her in. The room is like nerd heaven, and you mean that in the most respectful way possible. Posters, shelves with collectibles, a desk with a gaming PC, and string lights hung up around the ceiling giving everything this soft glow. Three girls are already there: two sitting on the bed, one at the desk chair.
All heads turn when you walk in, and there's this moment of collective freeze.
The girl at the table must be Dahyun. They all look a little alike to be honest, but the pigtails are unmistakable.
On the bed, there's a girl with pale skin and jet-black hair in a neat bob - Winter, you're guessing. She's got on a fitted cream sweater that actually shows her figure unlike everyone else's baggy clothes, and dark jeans. Her glasses are more stylish than the others', with thin black frames. She's pretty in this delicate, doll-like way.
And there's Haewon, who you recognize from the cafeteria.
"Hey everyone," you say, flashing them all that winning smile. "Good to see you, Haewon. And you two must be Winter and Dahyun?"
Dahyun shoots up from the desk chair so fast she almost knocks it over. "Yes! I mean—I'm Dahyun! Hi! It's so—we're so—it's really—" She's literally stumbling over every word, her face going red. Then she lets out this loud, nervous laugh that's almost aggressive. "AHAHA! Sorry! I'm just—you're really—I mean this is—AHAHA!"
You can't help but grin at how flustered she is. "Nice to meet you, Dahyun."
Winter stands up more gracefully, smoothing down her sweater. “I'm Kim Minjeong, but everyone calls me Winter, as you probably already know. It's nice to finally meet you properly." Then her eyes drop down your body (not subtly at all) and back up. "Hanni said you were tall, but wow. You're really... big."
The way she says it, combined with how her gaze lingers, makes it sound way more suggestive than it probably is. You catch Hanni's eyes going wide, and Haewon actually chokes on air.
"Uh, thanks?" you say, amused. "I get that a lot."
"I bet you do," Winter says, completely innocent expression on her face, and Dahyun lets out another one of those explosive laughs.
You hold up the grocery bag. "Brought snacks and drinks for everyone. Figured we'd need the energy."
"Oh my god, you didn't have to do that!" Dahyun rushes over, peering into the bag. "Holy shit, these are the good chips! And, wait, are these Pocky? The fancy ones?"
"Yeah, I figured you guys might like Japanese snacks."
All four of them look at you like you just offered them a kidney. Haewon actually makes eye contact with you for the first time, looking genuinely surprised.
Hanni takes the bag and starts unpacking it on her desk. "Seriously, this is so nice. Thank you."
While they're busy gushing over the snacks, you take the opportunity to look around the room more. Your eyes land on a shelf with a bunch of figurines, and one in particular catches your attention, mainly because the character's wearing what's basically a black leotard and has white hair. You definitely recognize that from... somewhere. The internet, probably.
"Oh shit, is that 2B?" you ask, walking over to get a closer look. You're like seventy percent sure that's the character's name.
Hanni practically teleports to your side. "You know NieR: Automata?"
"Yeah, of course," you lie. “That game's amazing. The story's crazy deep."
Her eyes are fucking sparkling now. "Right?! Nobody ever talks about the existential themes! Everyone just focuses on—" She cuts herself off, blushing. Probably because everyone focuses on 2B's ass.
"The philosophy stuff is great," you say, nodding like you have any idea what you're talking about. "You've got great taste."
Dahyun comes over too, and she's holding a different figure. "Do you watch anime? This is from Chainsaw Makima. I mean Makima! From Chainsaw Man!" Another explosive laugh.
You glance at the figure, some woman with red hair in a business suit. "Oh yeah, I've heard that one's good. Haven't had time to watch it yet with rugby season, but it's on my list."
"It's SO good," Dahyun gushes. "Like, really dark and violent but also somehow emotional? And the animation is insane. You have to watch it!"
"I'll definitely check it out," you say, making a mental note to never check it out.
Winter's looking at you with this curious expression. "You're really into this stuff? Most athletes at our school think anime and gaming are..."
"Lame?" you finish for her. "Nah, people like what they like. No point judging." The truth is you couldn't care less about any of this, but they don't need to know that. "Besides, you guys clearly have good taste in everything. These figures probably cost bank, right? Shows dedication."
All four of them are looking at you like you're some kind of unicorn now.
"Okay!" Hanni claps her hands together, clearly trying to get things back on track. "We should probably start working. We've got a lot to cover tonight."
Everyone settles in. Dahyun sits back at the desk chair. Winter and Haewon take the bed. Hanni sits on the floor with her laptop, and you join her, stretching your long legs out. There's a weird moment where your knee brushes against Hanni's thigh and she goes rigid, but she doesn't move away.
Hanni pulls up a shared document on her laptop. "Okay, so I divided the work based on everyone's strengths. Dahyun, you're good with data analysis, so you're handling the market research and competitive analysis sections. Winter, you're taking the financial projections since you're amazing with numbers. Haewon, you've got the SWOT analysis and strategic recommendations. I'll do the executive summary and introduction."
She turns to you. "And for you, I was thinking you could handle the company overview section? Like, describing the startup we chose, their product, their mission statement, stuff like that. It's pretty straightforward."
"Sounds good," you say confidently. Straightforward. Sure. You can do straightforward.
Hanni explains what specific company they picked (some tech startup that does sustainable packaging or whatever) and what information you need to include in your section. She makes it sound simple. Describes it as basically "just summarizing what the company does."
Everyone opens their laptops and gets to work. The room fills with typing sounds. Dahyun muttering to herself as she scrolls through data sheets.
You stare at your blank Google Doc.
Company overview. Okay. You navigate to the startup's website and start reading. There's a lot of corporate buzzword bullshit about "disrupting the industry" and "sustainable solutions" and "innovative approaches." What the fuck does any of this actually mean?
You type out a sentence. Delete it. It sounds stupid. Try again. Also stupid.
Ten minutes pass and you've written maybe two sentences.
Dahyun's already got like three paragraphs done, you can see her screen from here. Winter's building out some kind of Excel spreadsheet that looks like actual hieroglyphics. Even Haewon, quiet little Haewon, is typing away steadily.
Shit.
You glance over at Haewon. She's closest to you on the bed, super focused on her screen, bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration.
"Hey, Haewon?" you say quietly, leaning toward her a bit.
She jumps slightly, looks down at you. "Y-yeah?"
"Sorry to bother you, but could you look at what I've written so far? I feel like I'm not explaining this right."
Her eyes dart to your screen, and you angle your laptop so she can see. You've got maybe three sad sentences.
"Oh, um..." She adjusts her glasses. "You need to include more specifics about their product line. And maybe explain their target market? Like, who they're trying to sell to."
"Right, right. That makes sense." You give her a grateful smile. "Could you maybe... show me an example? I'm better at seeing how it's done."
And that's how Haewon ends up basically rewriting your entire opening paragraph while you watch and nod along like you're learning something. She's so focused on helping that she doesn't seem to realize she's doing your work for you.
Twenty minutes later, you're stuck again. This time you turn to Dahyun.
"Dahyun, you're killing it over there," you say, and she immediately whips around, face going red. "Could you help me understand how to incorporate some of the market research into my section? Like, should I mention competitor products?"
"Oh! Um! Yes! Definitely!" She rolls the desk chair over. "So basically you reference the market trends and then—"
She leans in close to point at your screen, and you can feel the heat radiating off her. Her pigtails brush against your shoulder as she types a few sentences directly into your document, showing you "what it should look like."
Except she keeps typing. And typing. And suddenly you've got a whole new section that you definitely didn't write.
"Does that make sense?" she asks, finally pulling back.
"Perfect sense. You're a lifesaver." You flash her your best grateful smile, and she lets out another one of those explosive laughs before rolling back to her spot.
You're maybe halfway done with your section now, and you've personally written about twenty percent of it.
Later, when you're supposed to be adding financial context to your company overview, you're completely lost staring at the startup's funding rounds and revenue projections.
Winter's right there on the bed, though.
"Winter?" You twist around to look up at her. "I'm trying to figure out how to explain their funding situation without making it sound super technical. You're doing the financial projections. Any tips?"
She blinks those pretty eyes at you. "Oh, you want me to help make it simpler?"
"Exactly. You're so good at this stuff."
She actually giggles, soft and kind of shy, and moves to sit next to you on the floor. "Okay, so let me see what you have..."
And just like with the others, Winter ends up contributing way more than just "tips." She restructures your sentences, adds in context you definitely wouldn't have thought of, makes everything flow better.
"You're a genius," you tell her when she's done, and she ducks her head, pleased.
"It's really not that hard once you understand the basics," she says. Then adds: "I could teach you sometime. If you want. I mean, if you need help with other assignments or anything, I don't mind... spending time..." Her cheeks go pink. "Explaining things. To you."
The double meaning in her tone is either completely intentional or she's the most accidentally flirty person alive. Either way, you file that away as useful.
By the time Hanni calls for a break around nine-thirty, your section is basically done. You've written maybe a quarter of it yourself, and the rest has been heavily supplemented by the three girls you've strategically asked for help.
"This is really good progress," Hanni says, scrolling through the shared document. "We might actually finish this ahead of schedule."
Dahyun stretches her arms above her head. "I'm starving. Should we order pizza or something?"
"I could go for pizza," you agree, pulling out your phone. "My treat, since you guys brought the brainpower tonight."
"You don't have to do that!" Winter protests, but she's smiling.
"I want to. Seriously. You guys are making this so much easier than I thought it'd be." That part's actually true. You just mean it in a different way than they think.
While everyone's debating pizza toppings, you lean back against Hanni's bed, feeling pretty damn good about yourself. This is going to work. They're eating up your Nice Guy act, they're all clearly into you based on how flustered they get, and they're basically doing your work for you without even realizing it.
You've got this in the bag.
—
The next two weeks slip by in a rhythm you’ve perfected by now. The group chat (creatively named "Business Nerds Unite 🤓 by Dahyun) becomes your primary tool for maintaining the illusion that you give a shit.
BUSINESS NERDS UNITE 🤓
You: Just finished practice. Coach killed us today lol. How's everyone doing on their sections?
Hanni: Making good progress! About halfway through the intro
Winter: Financial projections are coming along
Dahyun: DROWNING IN DATA but it's fine!!
Haewon: 👍
You: You guys are amazing. Seriously carrying this project
You: [Photo of you post-practice, shirt off, at the gym, flexing a bit]
You: Sorry for the thirst trap lmao. Too lazy to put a shirt on
There's a solid three-minute gap before anyone responds, and you grin at your phone knowing exactly what effect that photo had. It's the perfect formula. Post something to keep their attention, remind them you're hot, then redirect to the project so you look engaged and helpful. Meanwhile, you've done maybe fifteen percent of your actual assigned work.
The second Friday, you show up to Hanni's place and immediately notice the kitchen table is wobbling like crazy. Hanni's trying to balance her laptop on it and looking frustrated.
"This thing's been driving me insane all week," she mutters.
"Let me take a look," you offer, crouching down to examine the legs. One of them is definitely loose, the screw stripped.
"Oh, you don't have to—"
"Nah, I got this. You guys get started, I'll fix it real quick."
Except "real quick" turns into forty minutes of you actually having to go to the hardware store down the street to get a new screw and bracket because the damage is worse than you thought. When you finally get back, sweaty and slightly annoyed, the girls are deep in work mode.
"Hey, sorry that took forever," you say, wiping your forehead. "Table's solid now though."
Hanni looks up, surprised. "You actually went and bought parts? You didn't have to do that."
"Couldn't leave you with a wobbly table." You flash her a smile. "But I'm way behind now. Dahyun, could you maybe just start outlining my section while I clean up? I'll fill it in after I shower."
And Dahyun, sweet helpful Dahyun, agrees immediately.
You never do fill it in. She ends up doing most of it herself.
The third week, Haewon posts in the group chat late one night.
Haewon: Just finished the last volume of my favorite light novel series and now I don't know what to do with my life
Dahyun: NOOO which one??
Haewon: The one I've been reading for three years. It's over. I'm dead inside
Hanni: RIP Haewon's soul
Winter: Time to start a new series!
Haewon: Nothing will compare 😭
The next day you show up at college with her favorite chocolate. The fancy dark chocolate with sea salt that she mentioned once, quietly, when you all went to the convenience store together. She'd picked it up, looked at the price, and put it back.
"Heard you were having a rough day," you say casually, handing it to her.
Haewon just stares at the chocolate bar, then at you, her eyes going wide behind her glasses. "How did you... I only mentioned this once."
You shrug. "I pay attention."
Her face goes bright red and she takes the chocolate with shaking hands. "Thank you. This is really... thank you."
For Winter, it's different. She mentioned in passing during a study session that her laptop charger was dying, fraying at the connection point, but she couldn't afford a new one until her stipend came through next month. Two days later, you "happen to have" an extra charger that "fits her model."
"I upgraded my old laptop so I don't need this anymore. Yours is the same brand, right? You should take it."
Winter looks like she might actually cry. "I can't just take this, these are expensive—"
"I'm literally never going to use it. Please. I'd rather it go to someone who needs it."
She accepts it with this soft, grateful expression that makes you feel slightly guilty. Slightly. Not enough to stop.
And for Dahyun, it's even simpler. She posts a selfie in the group chat with her pigtails, clearly fishing for compliments.
Dahyun: I just tried my new finishing cream. Thoughts?!!
Hanni: Cute!!
Winter: Love it!
Haewon: Perfect
You: Looks amazing. The pigtails really suit you
She sends back about fifteen emojis and you know you've got her hooked.
But what you don't know is what's happening at Hanni's place right now, thirty minutes before you're supposed to arrive for today's work session.
—
Hanni emerges from the bathroom in her usual post-shower uniform: oversized t-shirt, shorts, hair wrapped in a towel. She can hear voices from the living room. The girls showed up early, apparently.
Except when she gets closer, she realizes they're not just talking. They're arguing.
"—absolutely into me," Haewon's saying, and she sounds almost smug. She's sitting on the couch eating that chocolate bar you gave her, taking small, savoring bites. "Guys don't pay attention to details like that unless they're interested."
"What details?" Winter asks from her spot on the floor, looking up.
Haewon waves the chocolate. "This. I mentioned my favorite chocolate one time, super briefly, at a convenience store two weeks ago. He remembered. He went out and bought it and brought it to me yesterday because I was sad about finishing my light novel." She pops another piece in her mouth. "That's boyfriend behavior."
Dahyun's sitting in the armchair, and she literally throws her hands up. "Okay but that's cute and all, but he's clearly into me. He complimented my new hairstyle in like, super specific detail. And not just once! He keeps bringing it up. Yesterday he said—" She puts on a deeper voice, presumably imitating you. "—'The pigtails really frame your face nicely.' Like, that's not casual! That's flirting!"
"Girls, please." Winter's voice cuts through. "Yesterday he gave me a laptop charger. Just gave it to me. Do you know how much those cost? Like sixty dollars. He claimed he had an extra but I know he bought it specifically for me because I mentioned mine was broken." She hugs her knees to her chest. "No boy has ever done anything like that for me. I think I'm in love with him."
"What the fuck," Haewon says flatly.
"No, I'm serious!" Winter's eyes are shining behind her glasses. "I've been thinking about it. He's so nice, and he's obviously attracted to nerdy girls. Some guys have a fetish for that, you know. I read about it. There are entire categories on porn sites dedicated to nerdy girls. And I'm Asian too, so that's like... a super combo. He probably—"
"Oh my god, Winter, stop," Dahyun groans, covering her face with her hands. "Stop self-fetishizing. That's painful to listen to."
"I'm just being realistic about my appeal!"
"Your appeal is that you're smart and pretty, not because you fit some porn category!"
"But statistically—"
"I don't want to hear statistics about porn right now!"
Haewon's shaking her head. "This is insane. He can't be into all of us."
"Why not?" Winter challenges. "Maybe he's keeping his options open. Or maybe he's just a really nice guy who does thoughtful things for his friends."
"Friends don't look at you the way he looks at us," Dahyun mutters. "I've seen him staring when he thinks we're not paying attention. Especially at our—" She gestures at her chest and legs.
"I knew it!" Winter pumps her fist. "See? He's into us."
They're so busy arguing that none of them notice Hanni standing in the hallway, towel still wrapped around her head, face completely unreadable.
"Hey," Hanni finally says, stepping into the room.
All three girls jump like they've been caught doing something illegal.
"Hanni! We were just—"
"I heard," Hanni cuts Dahyun off. She moves to sit on the arm of the couch, crossing her arms. "Look, I really didn't want to say this, but something's been bothering me about this whole situation." The room goes quiet. Haewon stops mid-chew.
"He's being too nice," Hanni continues. "Like, suspiciously nice. The gifts, the compliments, showing up with snacks every time, fixing my table..." She looks at each of them. "I feel like we're being deceived."
"What do you mean?" Winter asks.
Hanni pulls out her phone, opens their shared project document. "How much work has he actually done on this project? Like, actually done himself?"
The girls exchange glances.
"Well, I helped him with the initial framework," Haewon admits slowly.
"I rewrote his opening section," Dahyun adds. "And his market analysis integration. And his conclusion."
"I did his entire financial context portion," Winter says softly.
"And last week when he was 'fixing my table' for forty minutes, I ended up drafting his comparative analysis section," Hanni says. "I've been keeping track. Want to know how much original work he's contributed to this project?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "Maybe twenty percent. And that twenty percent needed so much editing that it barely counts."
"Oh my god," Haewon whispers. "He's using us."
"He's been using us the whole time," Hanni confirms. "All the nice guy shit, the compliments, the gifts, it's all manipulation. He just wants to coast through this project without doing any real work. He doesn't actually care about any of us."
"That motherfucker,” Dahyun comments in an aggressive whisper.
"I can't believe—" Winter sounds genuinely hurt. "I thought he was different. I thought maybe he actually liked me. Us. I thought—" She cuts herself off, pressing her hands to her face. "God, I'm so stupid."
"You're not stupid," Hanni says firmly. "He's just a really good manipulator. Hot guys like him? They learn early that they can get away with anything."
Haewon's still holding the chocolate bar, and her grip on it is getting tighter. "So what do we do? Confront him? Tell the professor that he hasn't been contributing?"
“No," Hanni replies. "We're smarter than that."
The other three girls look at her.
"Think about it," Hanni continues, leaning forward. "We're doing his work anyway, right? His sections are actually the easiest parts. All the heavy analysis is on us. We could finish his portions in our sleep."
"So... we just let him keep using us?" Dahyun asks, incredulous.
"No. We turn the tables." Hanni's smiling now, and it's not a particularly nice smile. "We tell him we know what he's been doing. And we tell him that we'll keep doing his work, gladly, but he has to give us something in return."
Winter's eyes narrow. "What kind of something?"
"He needs this project," Hanni says. "It's worth forty percent of our grade. I heard from someone in his rugby team that he's failing Business Analytics. This project is literally the only thing standing between him and academic probation. Maybe even getting kicked off the team."
Realization dawns on Haewon's face. "He's desperate."
"Exactly. Which means we have all the power here." Hanni looks at each of them. "We can ask for anything."
The girls exchange glances. It seems like they're all thinking the same thing, but none of them wants to be the first to speak up.
Then Dahyun opens her mouth and says: "Okay, this is crazy, but hear me out." She pauses, takes a breath. "What if we asked him to fuck us?"
There’s a long moment of silence. Then all three other girls say "Yes" simultaneously, and suddenly they're all giggling, these high, slightly hysterical giggles that fill the room.
"Oh my god, we're actually considering this," Winter says through her laughter, hands over her mouth.
"I mean, why not?" Dahyun's grin is wicked now. "We've all been fantasizing about it anyway. Don't lie."
Haewon's face is red but she's nodding. "I've had... thoughts."
"We all have," Hanni admits. "Come on. We're about to graduate college and we're all still virgins. This is our chance."
"We can't leave university as virgins," Winter agrees. "That's so sad. And he's like... really, really, really hot."
"Understatement," Dahyun mutters. "Did you see that shirtless pic he posted? His abs have abs."
"And his arms," Winter adds. "When he reached up to fix something on Hanni's shelf last week, his shirt rode up and I saw his hip line and I almost died."
"He's got to be huge," Haewon says bluntly, and everyone stares at her. She shrugs, unapologetic. "What? We're all thinking it. He's six-five and built like that? His dick is probably massive."
Hanni feels her face heating up. "Okay but beyond the physical stuff, what do you think he's like in bed?"
"Probably really good?" Dahyun suggests. "Like, athlete stamina. He could probably go for hours."
"Do you think he's experienced?" Winter asks. "He's definitely not a virgin. Guys who look like that have probably been fucking since high school."
"Good," Haewon says firmly. "I want someone who knows what they're doing for my first time."
They all fall quiet for a moment, lost in their individual thoughts. Hanni's brain is supplying extremely vivid imagery of you. She's imagined more than once what it would be like to be under you, to have all that size and strength focused on her.
A sharp crack breaks the silence.
They all look at Haewon, who's staring down at her hands in shock. The chocolate bar has literally broken in half from how hard she was squeezing it.
"Jesus Christ, Haewon," Dahyun says.
"I got excited!" Haewon defends, and they all start giggling again.
"Okay but seriously," Winter says once they've calmed down. "If we're doing this, we should go all in. Like, really make him work for it."
"What do you mean?" Hanni asks.
Winter's eyes gleam behind her glasses. "He needs this project to pass, right? So we don't just ask for sex. We ask for more."
"More?" Dahyun leans forward. "Like what?"
"We make him be our boyfriend," Haewon says suddenly. "Until the end of the semester. In exchange, we'll do all his academic work. Not just this project; all of it. His essays, his homework, everything."
Hanni's mind is racing. "The four of us could easily handle his workload on top of our own. We're all ahead in our classes anyway. We could divide it up, wouldn't interfere with our own stuff."
"And he gets to pass all his classes without doing any work," Winter continues. "All he has to do is be our boyfriend. Take us on dates, be affectionate, introduce us as his girlfriends..."
"And fuck us," Dahyun adds with a grin. "Can't forget that part."
"All four of us," Haewon confirms. "That's the deal. He has to sleep with each of us. Multiple times, probably. And he has to be good about it, like actually make us feel good, not just get himself off."
Hanni feels a thrill run through her. "This is insane."
"This is brilliant," Winter corrects. "We get everything we want. We lose our virginities to a hot guy who's going to be motivated to make it good for us because he needs our help. We get to experience having a boyfriend without any of the actual emotional risk because it's got an end date. And we get revenge on him for trying to use us."
"Plus," Dahyun adds with a giggle, "we'll be doing exactly what he tried to do to us: using him. Poetic justice."
They all look at each other, and Hanni can see the same mixture of nervousness and excitement on everyone's faces that she's feeling.
"So we're really doing this?" Haewon asks. "We're going to basically blackmail him into being our boyfriend and fuck buddy?"
"He tried to manipulate us first," Hanni points out. "We're just... turning it around on him."
"When is he supposed to get here?" Winter asks, pulling out her phone to check the time.
"Like thirty minutes—"
A knock at the door cuts Hanni off.
All four girls freeze.
"He's early," Dahyun whispers.
Haewon makes a strangled noise and starts coughing, and Hanni realizes she's literally choking on a piece of chocolate. Winter has to pound on her back while Haewon wheezes.
Three heads nod, though Haewon's still coughing a bit.
"Let me do the talking," Hanni continues. "Follow my lead."
Another knock, more insistent this time.
Hanni takes a breath, smooths down her shirt, takes the towel off her head and throws it somewhere on the sofa, then quickly fixes her hair with her hands (the girls give a thumbs-up to indicate that she looks pretty), and walks to the door. Her heart is pounding but her hands are steady.
This is it.
The door opens, and you and Hanni come face-to-face, both of you wearing expressions that couldn’t be more different from each other.
"Hey!" you say, flashing your usual easy smile. "Sorry I'm a bit early. Practice ended sooner than expected so I figured I'd just head over."
She doesn't smile back. Just steps aside silently to let you in.
Okay. Weird.
You walk into the living room and immediately know something's wrong. All four girls are there: Dahyun in the armchair, Winter and Haewon on the couch, and they're all staring at you with these identical expressions that you can't quite read. Not angry, exactly. But definitely not friendly.
"Hey everyone," you try, adjusting the duffel bag on your shoulder. "Ready to knock out the rest of this project? We're so close to finishing, right?"
Silence. Complete, heavy silence.
You look from face to face. Dahyun's got her arms crossed. Winter's sitting very straight, hands folded in her lap. Haewon's pushing her glasses up her nose repeatedly even though they're not sliding. And Hanni's moved to stand with the other girls, creating this united front.
"Uh... everything okay?"
"We need to talk," Hanni says. Those four words never mean anything good.
You set your bag down slowly. "Did something happen? Is there an issue with the project or—"
"We figured out what your game is."
"What game?" You're trying to play dumb. Judging by their faces, it does not seem to be working.
Haewon actually laughs, and you're almost certain you've never heard her laugh before. "Come on. Don't insult our intelligence more than you already have."
"I don't—"
"You were using us," Winter cuts you off, and fuck, she sounds hurt. "This whole time. You were just using us."
Your mind races. Keep playing dumb? Deny everything? "That's crazy, I thought we were friends—"
"We thought so too," Dahyun interrupts. "Actually, with the way you were treating us, we thought maybe we'd be more than friends."
You can see it on their faces, they actually believed you liked them. They actually thought your attention was genuine.
"I was just trying to be nice," you say weakly.
"Stop!" Hanni exclaims. "Just… stop. You haven't actually done anything on this project. Not one single section by yourself. You're always making excuses, always finding ways for us to do your part. The table that needed fixing. The 'I'm better at learning by example' bullshit. All of it."
You open your mouth. Close it. Yeah, there's no point denying it when they've clearly compared notes.
"I'm sorry," you finally say, and you mean it. Kind of. You're sorry they figured it out, at least. "I'm just... I'm desperate, okay? I need this grade. I need to pass this class or I'm fucked. Rugby is everything to me and if I fail—" You can’t even get another word out. The panic is real. You can feel your perfect plan crumbling around you. You move to the couch and just sink onto it, putting your head in your hands. This is it. You're done. They’re going to tell the professor and you're going to fail and—
Movement catches your eye. Hanni steps forward and puts a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, almost comforting.
"We were angry when we realized what you were doing," she says. "But... we understand. Some people just aren't built for academic life. That doesn't make you a bad person."
You look up at her, confused by the sudden shift.
"Please," you're begging, and God knows how pathetic you sound right now. "Please, I'll do anything. I know I fucked up. I know I was an asshole. But please don't report me. I'll make it up to you somehow, I swear."
Before you even realize what you're doing, you're sliding off the couch onto your knees in front of them. "Anything. I'll do anything you want."
Dahyun's lips curve into a smile. It's not her usual nervous, giggling smile. It's something else entirely.
"Anything?" Winter asks.
"We can still help you," Hanni says slowly. "We can do even more for you, actually. If you do what we ask."
You look up at her, hopeful and confused. "What do you want?"
Hanni glances at the other girls. Then she looks back at you.
"We'll do all your academic work until the end of the semester," she says clearly. "Not just this project. Everything. Essays, homework, studying for exams. We'll make sure you pass all your classes."
Your heart leaps. "Seriously? You'd—"
"If," she continues, cutting you off. "You agree to be our boyfriend until the end of the semester."
“I-I don’t think I got that.”
"Our boyfriend," Winter clarifies. "All four of us. At the same time."
You must have heard that wrong. "How would that even work? That doesn't make any sense."
"We'll share you," Dahyun explains, and she sounds almost giddy now. "We've never had a boyfriend. None of us. And this is our chance."
You look between their faces, waiting for someone to laugh, to say it's a joke. But they're all completely serious.
"You want me to... what, take you all on dates? Hold your hands in public?" Even as you say it, you're imagining what your teammates would say. What everyone on campus would think. You, the star rugby player, dating four nerdy girls with glasses who probably spend their weekends at anime conventions.
"Yes," Hanni confirms.
Your reputation would be destroyed.
But your future would be saved.
"And," Hanni continues. "We want you to fuck us."
The word sounds almost foreign coming from her mouth. So blunt, so direct.
"Make us orgasm," she continues, and her cheeks are red but her gaze is steady. "Make us feel good. Do that, and your future will be protected. By your girlfriends."
"This is insane," you say, standing up from your kneeling position. "Date four girls at the same time? That's impossible. How would that even—"
Dahyun moves quickly, closing the distance and sitting next to you on the couch. Her hand wraps around your bicep, and you can feel how small her fingers are compared to the circumference of your arm.
"We'll make it work," she says, looking up at you. "You don't need to worry about anything. Just love us." She pauses, then adds with brutal honesty, "Or pretend to love us. We're not picky."
"While you're fucking us daily," Winter adds from her spot, and the effortless way she says it makes your cock twitch on reflex.
"You'll do great," Hanni says with confidence. "You have plenty of stamina. You're an athlete, after all."
Your mind is racing. Four nerdy girls. Dating them would tank your social status. Everyone would mock you. But these four nerdy girls could save your entire college career. They could make sure you graduate, make sure you stay on the rugby team.
And they're not ugly. Weird? Definitely. Socially awkward? Absolutely. But ugly? No.
"Okay," you hear yourself say.
All four girls freeze.
"Okay?" Hanni repeats.
"I'll do it. I'll be your boyfriend. Boyfriends. Whatever." You take a deep breath. "I'll date you. All of you."
The reaction is immediate: excited giggles, squeals that they try to muffle, hands over mouths in disbelief. Dahyun's grip on your arm tightens. She's looking at you with those wide eyes behind her glasses.
"Were you lying?" she asks suddenly. "When you complimented my pigtails. Were you just pretending to like me?"
"No," you say honestly. "I wasn't lying about that. I really did think they looked good on you."
Her face breaks into this brilliant smile. "I knew it!”
Something about that smile, the genuine happiness in it, makes you do something you hadn't planned. You reach up, cup her face with one hand, and lean in.
Dahyun makes this small surprised noise against your mouth, and then she's kissing you back with clumsy enthusiasm. Her lips are soft, There’s something sweet and refreshing in the way she tastes, almost like mint. Probably just her toothpaste lingering on your tongue. You can feel her trembling slightly, and when you pull back, she's staring at you with this dazed expression.
"Oh my god," she whispers. "Oh my god, that just happened. I'm going to faint. I think I'm actually going to faint."
"My turn!" Winter says immediately.
"No, me!" Haewon argues.
"I want—"
"Girls," Hanni cuts through the chaos. "Everyone will have their moment. I promise."
She turns to you and extends her hand, businesslike despite the slight tremor in it. "So. Do we have a deal?"
You reach out and shake her hand. "Yes. We have a deal." The second your hand closes around hers, you tug. Hard.
Hanni lets out a surprised squeak as you pull her forward and down, right onto your lap. She lands with a soft thump, her ass settling on your thighs, and freezes completely. You can feel how tense she is, how her breathing has gone shallow.
"It's okay," you murmur, wrapping one arm around her waist to steady her. "I'll be your boyfriend. I'll do everything you asked." You lean in close, lips brushing the shell of her ear, and lower your voice to a whisper that only she can hear. "Good job figuring out my plan."
Hanni shivers, and you feel it run through her whole body. "It was obvious," she manages, but it's trembling slightly against your body. "You were obvious. We're not stupid."
"I noticed." You press a kiss to the side of her neck, just below her ear, and she gasps. "You're all pretty Machiavellian, actually. I'm impressed." Your lips trail along her neck, and you feel her tilt her head slightly, giving you better access. "Turning my own game bsheack on me," you continue between kisses. "Making me the one who needs you instead. That's smart."
Hanni turns her face toward you.
"We're not going to be your victims," she says, with the last shred of determination she has left.
"No," you agree. "You're not."
Then you kiss her properly. Your hand comes up to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her still-damp hair, and you capture her mouth with yours. Unlike Dahyun's enthusiastic clumsiness, Hanni kisses carefully at first, almost experimentally. But when you deepen the kiss, when your tongue traces the seam of her lips, she opens for you with a soft sound that goes straight to your cock.
She tastes different from Dahyun, less sweet, more clean. Her hands come up to grip your shoulders like she needs the stability, and you can feel her heart hammering where her chest presses against yours.
When you finally pull back, Hanni's glasses are slightly fogged and crooked. Her lips are pink and slightly swollen, and she's staring at you with this dazed expression that's incredibly satisfying.
The room is dead silent except for everyone's heavy breathing.
You look around at the four girls (your girlfriends now, apparently) and see the same look on all their faces. Want. Need. Nervous anticipation.
"So, when do we start?” you ask with a grin, fully aware that despite everything, you can still knock each one of them off balance.
The question barely has time to settle in the air before all four of them answer in perfect unison:
"Now."
You blink, a surprised laugh escaping you. The synchronization would be funny if the way they're all looking at you wasn't making your blood run hot.
"What about the project?" you ask, and part of you can't believe those words just came out of your mouth. Since when do you care about schoolwork?
"It can wait," Hanni says, standing up from your lap with more confidence than you expected. "We have everything under control."
Winter nods in agreement. "We're ahead of schedule anyway. We can afford one night off."
"Let's go to my room," Hanni continues. "We'll have more... space there."
Space. Right. Your cock twitches at the implication.
You stand up, and immediately Winter is looking up at you with those big eyes behind her glasses, biting her lower lip.
"Can you carry me there?" she asks, almost shy.
Before you can respond, Haewon chimes in. "Me too?"
The size difference between you and them is striking when you're all standing. They barely come up to your shoulders, and you can tell from how they're looking at you that the height gap is doing something for them. Hell, it's doing something for you too.
"Yeah, okay," you say, and you reach down to scoop Winter up with your right arm, then Haewon with your left.
They're light. Stupidly light. You lift weights heavier than both of them combined during warmups. Winter lets out this surprised squeak and immediately wraps her arms around your neck, while Haewon grabs onto your shoulder.
"Me too!" Dahyun says, and before you can figure out the logistics, she's jumped onto your back, arms around your neck, legs wrapping around your waist.
So now you're standing in Hanni's living room carrying three nerdy girls like it's nothing, and the way they're all touching you, the weight of them against your body, is making you acutely aware of how real this is about to get. Hanni leads the way down the hall, and you follow, your cargo giggling nervously. Winter's face is pressed against your chest, and you can feel her rapid heartbeat. Haewon's grip on your shoulder is tight enough that you know she's anxious despite her bold request. And Dahyun is practically vibrating on your back.
When you reach Hanni's room, you have to duck slightly to get through the doorway without banging anyone's head. You walk to the bed and carefully deposit Winter and Haewon onto it. They sink into the mattress, looking up at you with flushed faces. Dahyun slides off your back reluctantly, her hands trailing down your arms as she moves to join the others.
The four of them are sitting on the bed now, lined up and staring at you like you're a present they're about to unwrap. Your heart is pounding. This is insane. This is actually happening.
Winter breaks the moment first. "Can you kiss me now?" She’s looking at you with those sad puppy eyes. "Please?"
You move closer to the bed, and she shifts to the edge to meet you. When you lean down, she has to tilt her head back significantly to reach you. The height difference means you have to support her, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head as you close the distance.
Her lips are soft and uncertain against yours. You can tell immediately that this is her first kiss from the way she freezes for a second, like she's not sure what to do. So you take it slow, keeping it gentle, just pressing your lips to hers and waiting for her to catch up. When she does, when she starts kissing you back, it's with this careful attention. Her hands come up to rest on your chest, and you feel her fingers curl slightly into your shirt.
You're so focused on Winter that you don't notice Haewon moving until you feel her pressed against your side. Then her face is buried in your neck, and she's inhaling deeply.
"God," she breathes against your skin. "I've wanted to do this for so long."
It should be weird. It probably is weird. But the feeling of her nose pressed to the column of your throat, the way she's breathing you in like she's starving for it, sends heat straight to your cock.
"You smell so good," Haewon murmurs. "It's addictive. Boy smell. Fuck, it's so good."
You pull back from Winter, whose lips are now pink and slightly parted, glasses askew and eyes dazed. She looks thoroughly kissed and utterly wrecked from just that.
"My turn," Haewon says immediately.
When you kiss her, it's different from the others. Haewon kisses like she's been thinking about this for months, like she's got a point to prove. Her hand comes up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you down harder, and when you part your lips she follows your lead immediately.
Winter has moved now, and you feel her on your other side, mimicking what Haewon did. Her face presses to your neck and she inhales.
"Oh," she says softly. "Oh, Haewon was right. You smell really good."
There's something powerful about having them smell you, about the way they're reacting to your natural scent like it's a drug.
You end the kiss with Haewon by catching her bottom lip gently between your teeth and tugging slightly. When you pull back fully, all four girls are staring at you with blown pupils and flushed cheeks.
Reality crashes back for a second. You're about to fuck four virgins. Four girls who've probably never done anything more than kiss, and even that's new for most of them.
"Condoms," you say. "Do you have any?"
All four of them go bright red simultaneously.
"We don't," Hanni admits, and she looks embarrassed. "We didn't exactly... plan for this scenario."
"But we're clean," Winter adds quickly. "And we're all on birth control."
Dahyun lets out one of her nervous laughs. "Even though it's never been necessary. Until now."
"I knew it would come in handy someday," Winter says with something almost like pride.
You put both hands on your hips, thinking. The responsible thing would be to wait, to go buy condoms. But looking at four eager, nervous girls who've just blackmailed you into being their boyfriend, responsibility feels pretty far away.
"I'm clean too," you tell them. "Athletes get regular checkups. It's required for the team."
"Okay," Hanni says, straightening up like she's steeling herself. "Okay. So we're doing this."
"Don't just stand there," you say, injecting some authority. "Start taking off your clothes."
Their reaction is immediate. All four of them start stripping with fumbling, nervous hands. Dahyun gets her shirt stuck on her pigtails and has to wrestle it off. Winter's fingers shake so badly she has trouble with her buttons. Haewon just yanks her plaid shirt open, sending a button flying. Hanni pulls her t-shirt over her head in one motion.
You toe off your sneakers and reach for the hem of your own shirt. When you pull it over your head, you hear a collective intake of breath.
All four girls have frozen in various states of undress, staring at your torso. You're not blind to how you look. Rugby keeps you built, and you work hard to maintain it.
"Holy shit," Dahyun whispers.
They're all in their underwear now, and you take a moment to actually look at them. None of them are wearing anything sexy or fancy. It's all comfortable, practical stuff. Hanni's got simple black cotton. Winter's wearing a matching cream set that's almost modest. Dahyun's is pink with little patterns. Haewon's is plain white. Somehow that makes it hotter. This wasn't planned. This isn't some seduction scenario they prepared for.
"Take off my pants," you instruct, and you watch them exchange glances.
They move forward together, kneeling in front of you on the bed and reaching for your belt. Eight small hands fumbling with the buckle, the button, the zipper. They're so nervous that it takes longer than it should, but eventually they get it open.
Winter and Hanni hook their fingers in your waistband and tug downward. Your pants slide down your legs and you step out of them, leaving you in just your boxer briefs.
The bulge is obvious. Impossible to miss. Your cock has been half hard since you kissed Dahyun in the living room, and now it's straining against the fabric, a clear outline visible.
All four girls are staring at it.
"You look beautiful like this.” And it's true. They're all kneeling on the bed in front of you in their simple underwear, glasses slightly askew, hair mussed, lips swollen from kissing. "Kneeling before me."
Haewon swallows hard enough that you can see it. "Can we..." She licks her lips. "Can we take off your underwear?"
The fact that she asked permission does something to you. These girls who blackmailed you, who have you over a barrel, are still asking permission like they're not sure they're allowed.
"Go ahead," you say.
Dahyun and Winter reach for your waistband together. They peel your boxer briefs down slowly, and when your cock springs free, all four of them make various sounds of shock. You're big. You know you're big. Nine inches, thick, and right now you're rock hard and leaking precum from the tip.
"Oh my god," Winter breathes.
"That's..." Hanni trails off, unable to finish the sentence.
"That's going inside us?" Dahyun asks, it's hard to tell if she's worried or anxious about it.
Haewon just stares, mouth slightly open, and you watch her tongue dart out to wet her lips unconsciously. Your cock twitches under their attention, and another bead of precum wells at the tip.
"Touch it," you say, because watching them stare is making you insane. "Go on."
Four pairs of eyes snap up to your face, then back down to your cock. Then, hesitantly, small hands start reaching forward.
The first touch is featherlight and hesitant. Winter's fingers make contact first, just her fingertips grazing along your shaft, and you watch her eyes widen behind her glasses at the feeling of hot, rigid flesh under her hand. She looks almost scared for a second, like she can't believe this is real, like she's waiting for someone to tell her she's not allowed. Then Hanni's hand joins hers, wrapping around you from the other side, and the contrast between your thick cock and her small hand is insane. Her fingers don't even close all the way around your girth. Dahyun reaches out next, her touch landing on your balls, cupping them gently and making an awed sound when she feels the weight of them. Haewon's hand slides up your thigh first, teasing, before finally wrapping around the base of your shaft where the others haven't claimed territory yet.
"It's so hot," Winter murmurs unconsciously, her palm sliding experimentally up your length. The precum at your tip makes the glide easier, and when her fingers brush over the head of your cock, slick with it, she brings her hand up to look at the clear fluid coating her fingertips. "And wet."
"That's precum," Hanni explains, though her tone suggests she's only ever read about it, never seen it in person. Her hand starts moving in slow, exploratory strokes, learning the shape and feel of you. "It means he's turned on."
"Of course he's turned on," Dahyun says with a breathy giggle, rolling your balls gently in her palm. "Look at us. Four girls touching his dick. What guy wouldn't be?"
You groan at the sensation of eight hands on you, exploring every inch of your cock and balls with curious, unpracticed touches. They're not trying to make you cum yet. They're just learning, mapping you out. The academic approach they're taking to examining your dick is so perfectly them that you almost laugh, except Haewon chooses that moment to lean in close.
Her face gets within inches of your cock, and then she inhales deeply, her nose nearly touching your shaft. The sound she makes is almost a whimper, needy and desperate. Winter notices and mirrors her action, leaning in from the other side and breathing in your scent. Both girls look absolutely gone, pupils blown wide, lips parted.
"Fuck, it smells even better here," Haewon says, her breath ghosting over your sensitive skin and making you twitch in their hands. She presses her nose right against the base of your cock, where your scent is strongest, and inhales again. "It's so masculine. So different from anything else."
Winter is doing the same thing on the opposite side, her face buried against you, breathing you in with little gasping breaths. "It's making me dizzy," she admits, and her hand tightens around you reflexively. "I can't stop. I don't want to stop."
"You two are ridiculous," Hanni says, but there's no real criticism here. If anything, she sounds curious, and you see her lean in a bit to catch your scent herself, though she's not as blatant about it as the other two.
Dahyun has moved from your balls to stroking your shaft, her small hand pumping you slowly. "It's so thick I can barely hold it," she says, giggling nervously. "And it keeps twitching. Does that feel good?"
"Yeah," you manage. Having four nerdy virgins explore your cock like it's a science experiment is doing things to your brain. "Keep going."
They do, settling into a rhythm where they're passing your cock between them, each taking turns stroking while the others touch your balls, your thighs, your lower abs. Haewon and Winter keep returning to press their faces against you, inhaling your scent with increasing desperation. You can feel Winter's glasses bumping against your hip as she nuzzles in.
"I want to taste it," Haewon says suddenly, pulling back just enough to look up at you. Her face is flushed. "Can I?"
Before you can answer, she's leaning in and dragging her tongue up the underside of your shaft in one long, slow lick. The sensation makes your hips jerk involuntarily, and she moans like you're the best thing she's ever tasted.
"Oh god," Winter breathes, watching Haewon. "I want to try too."
Soon all four of them are licking you, tongues dragging over every inch of your cock and balls they can reach. It's messy and uncoordinated, but the enthusiasm more than makes up for the lack of technique. Hanni licks around the head, catching the precum that's leaking steadily now. Dahyun focuses on your balls, her tongue tracing over them while she cups them in one hand. Winter and Haewon are worshiping your shaft, their tongues occasionally meeting in the middle and sliding against each other as much as against you.
The sight of four nerdy girls in their plain underwear and glasses, all licking your cock like it's a popsicle they're sharing, It's too much for you to process. You thread your fingers through Hanni's hair, partly to steady yourself and partly because you need to touch one of them.
"Fuck," you breathe, watching them work. "You're all so eager."
"We've been thinking about this," Hanni admits between licks, looking up at you with hazy eyes. "Since we made the deal. Maybe before that, if I'm honest."
"Definitely before," Dahyun agrees, and then she takes one of your balls into her mouth, sucking gently and making you curse.
You let them explore for another minute, but your patience is running thin. Your cock is aching, throbbing with need, and watching them lick and kiss it without actually sucking it is bordering on torture.
"Suck it," you say, and your words comes out commanding in a way that makes all four of them freeze and look up at you. "Stop teasing and actually suck my cock."
Hanni shifts positions, kneeling higher, and wraps her lips around the head of your cock. The wet heat of her mouth makes you groan, and she starts bobbing shallowly, only taking a few inches before pulling back. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks, and even though her technique is clearly amateur, the enthusiasm in her eyes as she looks up at you makes it incredibly hot.
Winter is next, gently pushing Hanni aside to take her turn. She opens her mouth wide and takes you deeper than Hanni managed, and you feel the head of your cock hit the back of her throat before she gags slightly and pulls back, coughing.
"Easy," you tell her, reaching down to stroke her cheek. "You don't have to take it all at once."
She nods, eyes watering slightly, and tries again with more care. This time she finds a rhythm she can manage, bobbing on the first few inches while her hand strokes the rest. Her tongue swirls around the head every time she pulls back, and the attention to that sensitive spot has your thighs tensing.
Dahyun practically shoves Winter out of the way in her eagerness, wrapping her lips around you and moaning at the taste. Her pigtails frame her face perfectly, and you can't resist reaching down to wrap one around your fist, using it to guide her movements. She whimpers at the control but doesn't resist, letting you push her down a bit further onto your cock before pulling her back by her hair.
"That's it," you encourage, and she moans again, the vibration traveling through you. "Use that pretty mouth."
Haewon is the last to take her turn, and she's the most aggressive about it. She swallows you down like she's trying to win a competition, taking you deeper than any of the others managed before choking and having to pull off, strings of saliva connecting her lips to your cock.
They rotate like that, taking turns sucking you while the others lick your shaft and balls, occasionally stopping to catch their breath or wipe the spit from their chins. Their glasses keep fogging up from their heavy breathing and the heat, and more than once someone has to take theirs off to clean them before diving back in.
"You're all doing so good," you tell them, and the praise makes them work even harder, competing for your approval. "Such good girls, worshiping my cock like this."
The combination of four mouths and eight hands working together is overwhelming. Your balls are already tightening, orgasm building embarrassingly fast, but you force it back. Not yet. You want to draw this out, want to enjoy the sight of these four nerdy virgins servicing you like their lives depend on it.
Which, in a way, they do. Your academic future is in their hands. And right now, your cock is in their mouths.
Fair trade.
They're getting bolder now, more confident in their exploration. What started as tentative licks and careful kisses has evolved into something hungrier, messier. Spit is dripping down your shaft, coating your balls, making everything slick and obscene. Hanni takes you deep enough that her eyes water, and when she pulls off there's a thick string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock that doesn't break until Winter leans in to take her place.
Winter wraps both hands around your base and focuses her attention on your balls, sucking one into her mouth while she strokes you. The dual sensation of her hot mouth on your sac and her small hands working your shaft makes your abs clench. She hums contentedly, like this is exactly where she wants to be, and the vibration travels through you in the best way.
"Let me help," Dahyun says, diving in to take your other ball in her mouth. Now both of them are down there, their faces pressed together as they worship your balls with eager tongues and soft lips. You can hear the wet sounds of them sucking and licking, can feel their occasional moans vibrating against sensitive skin.
Haewon takes advantage of your distracted state to swallow you down again, and this time she pushes further, fighting her gag reflex to take more of you. She makes it maybe six inches before she has to pull back, coughing and gasping, but the pride in her eyes when she looks up at you is unmistakable.
"I almost got it all," she says, breathless and determined. "I want to try again."
"Your turn," Hanni says, tapping Winter's shoulder. "I want his balls."
They switch positions fluidly, working together. It's honestly impressive how well they're coordinating, taking turns and making sure every part of your cock gets attention. Your shaft is absolutely dripping now, coated in their combined saliva, glistening in the soft light of Hanni's bedroom.
Dahyun pulls off your balls with a wet sound and grins up at you, her lips swollen and shiny. "This is so hot. I can't believe we're actually doing this."
"Me neither," Winter agrees, stroking you while Haewon catches her breath. "I thought about this so many times but never thought it would actually happen."
"What did you think about?" you ask, genuinely curious, and all four of them exchange glances.
"This," Hanni admits. "All of us, together, with you. Taking turns."
"I thought about what you'd taste like," Winter adds, blushing but not looking away. "If you'd be big. You're bigger than I imagined."
"I thought about you fucking my throat," Haewon says bluntly, and the crude language sounds so wrong coming from quiet, studious Haewon that it makes your cock twitch visibly. "Using me."
Using.
"Oh my god, yes," Dahyun breathes, her eyes lighting up. "Like in porn. I want you to use us like sluts."
The other girls nod eagerly, and you can see the want written plainly on their faces.
"You sure?" you ask, because despite everything, despite the blackmail and the arrangement, you need to make sure. "It's going to be rough."
"We want rough," Winter insists. "We're tired of being treated like we're fragile. We can handle it."
"Please," Hanni adds. "We want to feel it. We want you to really fuck our mouths."
Your hand tightens in Dahyun's pigtails, and she whimpers, eyes fluttering closed. "Like this?"
"Exactly like that," she confirms, opening her mouth invitingly. "Use my hair. Use my throat. I can take it."
You don't need more invitation than that. You guide her mouth back onto your cock, but this time you don't let her set the pace. Using her pigtails like handlebars, exactly like you'd fantasized about since you first saw them, you push her down onto your shaft. She takes you deeper than before, and you watch her throat work as she tries to swallow around you.
"Fuck, look at her throat," Haewon says. She reaches out, pressing her fingers gently against Dahyun's neck, and her eyes go wide. "Holy shit, I can feel it! I can feel your cock bulging in her throat."
Winter and Hanni immediately crowd in to feel too, all three of them touching Dahyun's throat while you're buried in it. Dahyun's eyes are watering but she's not resisting, not pulling back, and when you glance down you can see the obscene bulge of your cockhead distending her throat from the inside.
"That's so hot," Winter murmurs, tracing the bulge with her fingertips. "You're so deep in her."
You pull Dahyun back by her pigtails, giving her a chance to breathe, and she gasps desperately, strings of drool falling from her lips.
"Again," she pants out. "Do it again. Fuck my throat."
This time you're less gentle, using her hair to pull her onto your cock in a steady rhythm. She gags and chokes but doesn't tap out, letting you use her mouth like a fleshlight. The wet, obscene sounds of her struggling to take you fill the room, punctuated by her muffled moans.
"My turn," Haewon says when you finally pull Dahyun off completely. "I want to feel that."
You switch to Haewon, gripping her hair at the roots and guiding her onto your spit soaked cock. She opens wide, relaxing her throat as much as she can, and you push in steadily. The resistance of her throat gives way and you slide deep, watching your shaft disappear between her lips. Her hands fly to your thighs for balance but she doesn't push you away.
"Oh fuck, look at that," Dahyun says, still catching her breath. She reaches out to touch Haewon's throat just like the others did to her. "That's your whole cock. Well, most of it."
"She's taking it so well," Hanni observes, her hand sliding between her own legs unconsciously. "Does it feel good?"
"So fucking good," you confirm, holding Haewon down for a few seconds before letting her up for air. "Her throat is so tight."
Haewon pulls off, coughing and gasping, but she's smiling. "More," she demands. "I can take more."
You fuck her throat in earnest this time, finding a rhythm that has her gagging and drooling all over your cock. The other girls are touching her, encouraging her, telling her how good she looks with your cock down her throat. When you finally pull out, her face is a mess of tears and spit and she looks absolutely debauched.
Winter is next, she’s probably the slimmest of the group. When you push into her throat, the bulge is incredibly obvious, your cock clearly visible through the delicate skin of her neck.
"Holy shit," you breathe. Your cock literally looks like it's splitting her open from the inside.
"Can you feel it?" Dahyun asks Winter, pressing her hand to the bulge. "Can you feel how deep he is?"
Winter can't answer with your cock buried in her throat, but she nods slightly, tears streaming down her face. You hold her there, feeling her throat convulsing around you as she struggles with your size, before pulling her off.
"You're doing so good," you tell her, wiping some of the spit from her chin. "Such a good girl, taking my cock like that."
"I love it," she admits between coughs. "I love feeling you in my throat. It's everything I imagined."
Hanni takes her turn next, and she's clearly been paying attention to what works. She relaxes her throat and lets you slide in deep, and when you start fucking her face properly she moans around you, the vibration making your balls tighten.
"Touch yourselves," you tell the other three while you use Hanni's mouth. "I want to see you get off on this."
They obey immediately, hands sliding into their panties. Dahyun's still wearing hers, the pink fabric darkened with a wet spot at the crotch. Winter and Haewon have matching expressions of pleasure as they rub their clits, eyes glued to the sight of your cock pistoning in and out of Hanni's throat.
"This is so fucking hot," Haewon pants, two fingers working between her legs. "Watching you destroy her throat while we touch ourselves."
"I'm already so wet," Winter adds, her hips rocking into her own hand. "I'm going to cum just from watching this."
You pull out of Hanni's throat and she immediately gasps, "Use Dahyun again. I want to see you really fuck her face."
Dahyun scrambles back into position, those pigtails practically begging to be grabbed. This time you're not gentle at all. You wrap both pigtails around your fists and use them to literally pull her face onto your cock, over and over, fucking her throat with purpose. The angle lets you get deeper, and you can see your cock bulging in her throat with every thrust.
"Oh my god, look at that," Hanni breathes, mesmerized. She's kneeling right next to Dahyun, face inches away, watching your cock disappear into her friend's mouth. "You're fucking her so deep."
"Does it hurt?" Winter asks Dahyun, concerned but clearly aroused.
Dahyun pulls off long enough to gasp out, "Hurts so good," before you're pushing her back down.
The four of them take turns like this, each getting their throat fucked while the others watch and touch themselves and offer encouragement. They've transformed from nervous virgins into eager participants, begging for your cock, competing to see who can take you deepest.
"Fuck, I want all of you at once," you say, pulling out of Haewon's mouth. "Line up. Let me use all your mouths."
They arrange themselves in a row, all on their knees, faces tilted up and mouths open. You move from one to the next, fucking each of their throats for a few strokes before moving on. Dahyun to Winter to Haewon to Hanni and back again, leaving all of them gasping and drooling and begging for more.
"Please," Hanni pants when you pull out of her mouth. "Please don't stop. Use us however you want."
"We're yours," Winter adds. "Your sluts. Just like we said."
The crude talk coming from these nerdy girls is destroying your self control, but you hold back, not ready to cum yet. You want to draw this out, want to enjoy having four devoted mouths servicing you for as long as possible.
"Who wants to try taking all of it?" you challenge, stroking your spit soaked cock. "Who thinks they can swallow my whole cock?"
"Me," Dahyun says immediately, always eager. "I want to try."
You guide her onto your cock slowly, watching inch by inch disappear between her lips. She's gagging and her eyes are streaming, but she doesn't give up. When you hit the back of her throat, you push a bit further, and her throat opens for you. Seven inches. Eight. Your cock is buried in her throat, her nose almost touching your pelvis, and the bulge in her neck is obscene.
All three other girls immediately reach out to touch it, their hands overlapping on Dahyun's throat, feeling your cock through her skin.
"She did it," Haewon whispers, awed. "She's taking all of you."
You hold her there for just a moment before pulling out, and Dahyun collapses forward, coughing and gasping but grinning triumphantly.
"I fucking did it," she rasps, sounding wrecked. "I took your whole cock."
"You're amazing," you tell her honestly. “You all are. Such perfect sluts for me."
Your cock is throbbing, aching with need after all that attention from four eager mouths. The sight of them kneeling there, faces flushed and messy with spit and tears, glasses fogged or askew, is driving you completely insane. You want more. You need more.
"Take off your underwear. All of you."
All four girls spark with sudden excitement the second the words leave your mouth. They scramble to obey, fumbling with clasps and hooks with shaking hands. Hanni's black panties hit the floor first, followed quickly by Winter's cream colored set. Dahyun struggles with her bra clasp for a moment before Haewon helps her, and then they're all completely naked except for their glasses.
You take a moment to just look at them. Four beautiful nerdy girls, stripped bare for you, nipples hard and visible arousal coating their inner thighs. In a way, this is just as new for you as it is for them, and you’re excited about all the possibilities four nerdy girls can offer you.
"This is really happening," Dahyun says, hands moving to cover herself before she forces them back down. "We're really doing this."
"We're losing our virginities," Winter adds with wonder. "Together. All of us."
You move to lie down on the bed, your cock standing rigid against your abs, still slick from their mouths. The girls watch you arrange yourself, eyes following every movement.
"Winter," you say, holding out your hand to her. "Come here."
She moves forward on shaky legs, and you can see goosebumps rising on her pale skin. Winter is delicate looking, with soft curves and smooth skin. Her breasts are small and perky, topped with pink nipples that are hard as diamonds. Her waist dips in before flaring slightly at her hips, and between her legs you can see her pussy glistening, already wet from all the foreplay.
"You're going to ride me," you tell her, guiding her to straddle your hips. "That way you can control the pace. Control how deep."
She nods, positioning herself over you, her thighs on either side of your hips. You wrap one hand around your cock to hold it steady, angling it up toward her entrance. With your other hand, you grip her hip, feeling how small she is under your palm.
"Go slow," you instruct as she starts to lower herself. "It's going to hurt at first, but it'll pass. Just take your time."
The head of your cock makes contact with her entrance, and she gasps at the sensation. You can feel how tight she is, how her body is resisting the intrusion. She bites her lip and pushes down slowly, and you feel yourself start to breach her.
"Oh god," Winter whimpers, and her thighs are trembling. "It's so big. I don't know if it'll fit."
"It'll fit," Hanni encourages from the side. "Just breathe. You can do this."
"We're so proud of you," Dahyun adds, reaching out to squeeze Winter's hand. "You're losing your virginity to our hot boyfriend. You're not a loser anymore."
Winter manages a shaky smile at that, even as she's struggling to take more of you inside. "I'm not a loser anymore," she repeats. "I have a boyfriend. I'm having sex."
"Damn right," Haewon says, grinning. "We're not those pathetic virgin nerds anymore. We're getting dicked down by a rugby player."
Winter pushes down another inch, and you feel resistance give way as you breach her hymen. She cries out, fingernails digging into your chest, and her whole body goes rigid.
"Breathe," you remind her, rubbing soothing circles on her hip. "The worst part is over."
She's panting heavily, tears leaking from behind her glasses. "I can't believe this is happening," she gasps. "I'm going to rub this in Karina's face. That bitch called me a loser last semester. Well guess what? I have a boyfriend now. I'm having sex. I'm super smart AND I'm getting fucked. And I'm a fetish for so many guys too!"
"Maybe skip that last part," Hanni suggests gently.
"Yeah, the fetish thing is a bit much," Dahyun agrees. "But the rest? Definitely throw it in her face!"
Winter laughs breathlessly, and the movement makes her sink down another inch onto your cock. She whimpers at the sensation but doesn't try to pull off. She keeps working herself down slowly, taking you inch by inch. You can feel every flutter of her inner walls, every clench as her body adjusts to the intrusion. By the time she's halfway down your shaft, she's sweating and shaking.
"I need my inhaler," she pants out suddenly. "I can't breathe properly."
Hanni immediately lunges for Winter's bag, digging through it until she finds the small device. She hands it over and Winter takes two quick puffs, holding her breath before exhaling slowly. The medication seems to help because her breathing evens out.
"Better?" you ask.
"Better," she confirms, setting the inhaler aside. "What do I do now?"
"Now you can start moving," you tell her, running your hands up her sides. "Rock your hips. Find what feels good."
Winter's body is a work of art in motion as she starts to move. Her small breasts bounce slightly with each roll of her hips, nipples hard and begging to be sucked. Her stomach is soft and smooth, with a subtle natural definition that you find incredibly appealing. Between her legs, you can see your thick cock splitting her open, her pussy stretched obscenely around your girth. Her thighs tremble with the effort of riding you, pale skin flushed pink.
She starts with small, experimental movements, just rocking back and forth. Then she tries lifting up slightly before sinking back down, and the sensation makes you both groan. She's so incredibly tight, gripping you like a vice, and every movement sends waves of pleasure rolling through your entire body.
Your eyes drift to Dahyun, who's watching intently while her hand works between her own legs. Her pigtails are mussed from when you used them to fuck her throat, and there's still dried spit on her chin. But what catches your attention is the way her small breasts heave with rapid breaths.
"Dahyun," you say, and her eyes snap to yours. "Come sit on my face. I want to taste that pink little pussy."
Her eyes go wide behind her glasses. "Really?"
"Get up here."
That's all she needs to hear. Dahyun's body is pale and petite as she scrambles onto the bed. Her breasts are small handfuls, topped with light pink nipples that match the color of her pussy. Her waist is tiny, emphasizing the slight flare of her hips. She's got this girl next door quality to her, innocent looking despite the absolutely filthy things you just did to her throat.
She climbs over you carefully, mindful of where Winter is riding your cock. When she's positioned over your face, you can see her pussy is absolutely dripping, arousal coating her inner thighs. Her lips are swollen and pink, and you can see her clit peeking out from its hood.
"Are you sure?" she asks nervously. "I've never done anything like this before."
"Sit," you command, gripping her thighs and pulling her down.
The moment her pussy makes contact with your mouth, she cries out. You don't waste time with teasing. You dive in like a man starving, licking broad stripes up her slit before focusing on her clit. She tastes sweet and musky, distinctly feminine, and you groan against her.
"Oh fuck," Dahyun whimpers, her thighs clamping around your head. "Oh fuck, that feels so good."
Below her, Winter is finding her rhythm, bouncing on your cock with increasing confidence. You can feel her getting wetter, her movements smoother as her body adjusts and starts producing more natural lubrication. The combination of Winter's tight pussy gripping your cock and Dahyun's taste flooding your mouth is almost overwhelming.
You seal your lips around Dahyun's clit and suck, and her reaction is immediate. She grinds down against your face, essentially riding your tongue, those pigtails swinging with the motion. One of your hands leaves her thigh to grip her ass, kneading the soft flesh and pulling her even closer.
"How does it feel?" Hanni asks Winter.
"Amazing," Winter gasps out, still bouncing steadily. "So full. I feel so full. His cock is so deep inside me."
"You look so hot," Haewon adds. "Both of you do. Riding him like that."
Your tongue works between Dahyun's folds, occasionally dipping inside her entrance to taste her directly from the source. She's incredibly sensitive, jumping and gasping at every touch. When you return your attention to her clit, alternating between licking and sucking, her thighs start to tremble.
"I can't believe this is happening," Dahyun pants. "His tongue is inside me. His actual tongue. This is better than anything I imagined."
Winter's pace picks up, and you can feel her starting to take you deeper. She's more than halfway down your shaft now, her body slowly accommodating your size. Every time she sinks down, you hear her breath hitch. Every time she rises up, she whimpers at the drag of your cock against her sensitive walls.
"Does it still hurt?" Dahyun asks her, grinding against your mouth.
"A little," Winter admits. "But it's good hurt. And it's starting to feel really, really good too."
You redouble your efforts on Dahyun's pussy, licking and sucking with purpose. Your other hand slides up to play with her breast, rolling her nipple between your fingers. She keens at the dual sensation, her hips moving frantically against your face.
"Oh god, oh god," she chants. "Your tongue is so good. So much better than my fingers."
Winter is really riding you now, using your chest for leverage as she bounces with abandon. You can feel her inner walls starting to flutter, can hear the wet sounds of your cock driving in and out of her soaked pussy. The bed creaks beneath you, and somewhere you register Hanni and Haewon's heavy breathing as they watch.
"Take him deeper," Haewon encourages Winter. "You can do it. Take that whole cock."
Winter tries, sinking down further than before, and you feel yourself hit her cervix. She gasps and freezes, adjusting to the sensation of being completely filled.
"That's it," you say against Dahyun's pussy. "Good girl. Take it all."
The praise spurs Winter on. She starts moving again, working herself up and down your length, each thrust taking you balls deep. Her pussy is gripping you so tight it's almost painful, and the heat and wetness are driving you insane.
Dahyun is getting close to something, you can tell by the way her movements are becoming erratic, the way her thighs are quivering. You focus all your attention on her clit, sucking hard while two fingers slide inside her dripping entrance. She's just as tight as Winter, her walls clenching around your digits as you curl them upward.
"What's happening?" Dahyun gasps. "Something's happening. I feel weird. Really weird but really good."
"You're close," Hanni tells her knowledgeably. "Just let it happen."
But you ease off before she can reach that peak, wanting to draw this out longer. Dahyun whines in protest, trying to grind harder against your face, but you hold her hips still.
"Not yet," you say, pulling back to look up at her flushed face. "I want to make this last."
She looks down at you with glazed eyes, her lips swollen from biting them. "You're mean."
"I'm thorough," you correct, landing a light smack on her ass that makes her yelp. "Now keep grinding. Show me how badly you want it."
Winter is still riding your cock with determination, and you can see the concentration on her face as she works. Sweat is beading on her forehead, her glasses slipping down her nose. She's absolutely beautiful like this, lost in the sensation of being filled.
You return your attention to Dahyun's pussy, licking and teasing but not quite giving her enough to push her over the edge. It's torture for both of you, but the drawn out pleasure is worth it.
Winter's rhythm is becoming more confident now, she's bouncing on your cock with real purpose, taking you deeper with each downward stroke until you're bottoming out inside her with every thrust. Her small breasts bounce enticingly with the movement, her pale skin turning pink with exertion and arousal. The wet sounds of her pussy taking your cock fill the room, obscene and perfect, and you can feel how much wetter she's getting as her body fully accepts the intrusion.
Above you, Dahyun is grinding her pussy against your face with increasing desperation. You've been edging her for what feels like forever, bringing her right to the brink before backing off, and she's practically sobbing with need. Her thighs are trembling on either side of your head, and you can taste how close she is, her arousal coating your chin and lips.
"Please," Dahyun whimpers, her hands gripping the headboard for stability. "Please let me cum. I need it so badly. Your tongue feels so good and I just need to cum."
You decide to have mercy on her. You seal your lips around her clit and suck hard while your fingers pump inside her, curling to hit that sensitive spot. The reaction is instantaneous. Dahyun's whole body goes rigid, her back arching, and then she's screaming as her orgasm crashes through her.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm cumming!" she cries out, grinding hard against your mouth as wave after wave of pleasure rocks through her. "Holy shit, I'm actually cumming on your face!"
You work her through it, licking and sucking as her pussy clenches rhythmically around your fingers. She's gushing, her arousal flooding your mouth, and you drink it down greedily. Her pigtails swing wildly as she thrashes, completely lost to the sensation of her first orgasm that wasn't self-induced.
Winter watches Dahyun's climax with wide eyes, her own movements faltering for a moment. "That looked intense," she pants, still riding you but clearly affected by seeing her friend fall apart.
"It was," Dahyun gasps, finally starting to come down. Her thighs are still shaking, and she carefully lifts off your face to collapse beside you on the bed. "Oh my god. That was nothing like when I do it myself. Nothing like it."
With Dahyun moved, you can see Winter clearly now, can watch her face as she rides you. She's biting her lip hard enough to leave marks, her brow furrowed in concentration. You grip her hips, helping guide her movements, and the new angle has your cock hitting something inside her that makes her eyes roll back.
"Oh," she gasps, her movements stuttering. "Oh, what was that?"
"Keep going," you encourage, angling her hips the same way. "Right there. Does that feel good?"
"Yes," she whimpers, and she's bouncing faster now, chasing that sensation. "Yes, right there. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
You don't. You keep her at that exact angle, meeting her downward thrusts with upward rolls of your hips that drive you deep and hit that spot inside her over and over. Winter's breathing is getting ragged, her movements becoming erratic, and you can feel her pussy starting to flutter around your cock in a way that tells you she's close.
Off to the side, you notice movement. Haewon has moved closer to Hanni, and her hand is trailing up Hanni's thigh in a way that's definitely not platonic. Hanni notices too, her eyes narrowing as she looks at her friend.
"Haewon?" Hanni's voice is uncertain but interested.
Haewon's response is to lean in and capture Hanni's lips in a kiss. It's not tentative or questioning. It's confident, and after a moment of surprise, Hanni is kissing back with equal enthusiasm. You watch them out of the corner of your eye, fascinated by this development, as Haewon's hand slides higher to cup Hanni's pussy.
They break apart for air, and Hanni is staring at Haewon with shock and arousal written plainly on her face. "I didn't know you liked girls too."
"I do," Haewon confirms, her fingers already working between Hanni's folds. "I like both. Always have."
"Me too," Hanni admits breathlessly, her hips rocking into Haewon's touch. "We could have been doing this so much earlier. We've wasted so much time."
"One time while I was masturbating, I imagined what it would be like if I had a dick and could fuck you doggy style," Haewon admits, a little embarrassed but clearly turned on. "I even have a strap-on on my Amazon wishlist because the idea gets me so hot.”
"Better late than never," Dahyun chimes in from where she's still recovering. "You're definitely getting that strap-on. Maybe we can help make your fantasy happen. Fuck, that's so kinky!”
Winter is barely paying attention to the conversation because she's too focused on the pleasure building in her core. Her movements are frantic now, and you can tell she's right on the edge. You thrust up harder to meet her, your hands gripping her hips tight, and you feel her start to tip over.
"Something's happening," Winter gasps, her eyes wide behind her fogged glasses. "I feel like I'm going to explode. Is this it? Am I going to cum?"
"Let it happen," you tell her, one hand sliding up to play with her nipple. "Just let go."
And she does. Winter's orgasm hits her like a freight train, her whole body convulsing as pleasure explodes through her. She throws her head back and screams, her pussy clamping down on your cock so hard it almost hurts. You can feel her inner walls rippling, pulsing around you as she rides out what's clearly the most intense thing she's ever felt.
"Holy fuck!" she cries, tears streaming down her face as the sensation overwhelms her. "Oh my god, oh my god, I'm cumming! I'm cumming on your cock!"
You keep thrusting up into her, prolonging her orgasm, watching her face contort in pleasure. She's absolutely beautiful like this, completely uninhibited, lost in sensation. Her small body is trembling, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, and she's making these high pitched keening sounds that go straight to your balls.
The orgasm seems to last forever, rolling through her in waves. Every time you think she's coming down, another thrust sends her spiraling again. She's sobbing now, overwhelmed, her hands pressed against your chest for stability as you fuck her through it.
"Too much," she finally gasps. "It's too much. I can't."
You slow your movements, letting her catch her breath, but you don't pull out. She's still twitching around you, aftershocks making her pussy clench sporadically. When she finally opens her eyes to look down at you, there's wonder written all over her face.
"That was..." She can't even finish the sentence.
"Your first orgasm during sex," you say, rubbing soothing circles on her hips. "How did it feel?"
"Intense," she manages. "So intense. I thought I was going to pass out. Is it always like that?"
"Sometimes even better," you tell her with a grin.
"I don't know if I can handle better," she admits, but she's smiling. "That was already almost too much."
Beside you, Haewon and Hanni have progressed from kissing to full on making out, their hands exploring each other's bodies with increasing boldness. Haewon has two fingers inside Hanni now, pumping steadily while her thumb circles Hanni's clit. Hanni is moaning into Haewon's mouth, her hips rocking to meet each thrust.
"You're so wet," Haewon murmurs against Hanni's lips. "You've been watching him fuck Winter and it got you soaked, didn't it?"
"Yes," Hanni admits without shame. "Watching her cum was so hot. I want that too. I want to feel that."
"You will," Haewon promises, her fingers speeding up. "We all will. He's going to fuck all of us and make us cum just like that."
The dirty talk combined with Haewon's skilled fingers has Hanni whimpering and grinding shamelessly. You can see her getting close, her breathing getting faster, her movements more erratic. Haewon notices too and focuses her attention on Hanni's clit, rubbing tight circles that have Hanni gasping.
Winter carefully lifts off your cock, whimpering at the loss, and moves to lie next to Dahyun. Both of them watch as Haewon works Hanni toward orgasm, their own hands drifting between their legs to lazily touch themselves as they observe.
"Come on," Haewon encourages, her free hand coming up to play with Hanni's breast. "Cum for me. Let me see you fall apart."
It doesn't take much longer. Hanni's back arches and she cries out, her pussy clenching around Haewon's fingers as her orgasm washes over her. It's not quite as intense as Winter's was, but it's still clearly powerful, leaving Hanni gasping and shaking in the aftermath.
"Fuck," Hanni breathes when she can speak again. "That was amazing. Your fingers are magic."
"Years of practice," Haewon says with a smirk, slowly withdrawing her fingers and bringing them to her mouth to suck clean. The gesture is filthy and has everyone staring.
Before you can even process what's happening next, Winter is suddenly leaning in toward you. Her small hand cups your jaw and she presses her lips to yours in a tender kiss. Her lips move against yours softly, and you can taste the salt from her tears.
"Thank you," she whispers when she finally pulls back. "That was perfect. You were perfect."
Dahyun immediately starts laughing, though it's fond rather than mocking. "Oh my god, you're already completely gone for him. Look at you, all starry eyed and grateful."
Winter's face flushes red but she doesn't deny it. "It's not my fault. His dick is perfect. Everything about him is perfect." She looks at Dahyun with a challenging expression. "Just wait until it's your turn. You'll see what I mean. You won't be laughing then."
"We'll see about that," Dahyun says, but her eyes drift down to your still hard cock, slick and glistening with Winter's arousal. She's already imagining it, already anticipating what it'll feel like inside her.
Haewon stands up from where she's been tangled with Hanni. "Me next," she announces, moving to the center of the bed. The other girls shift to make room, and Haewon lies back on the pillows, spreading her legs. From this angle you can see everything. Her pussy is already wet from Hanni's attention earlier, her lips swollen and pink, and as you watch she reaches down to spread herself open with her fingers in invitation.
You position yourself between her legs, and up close you can see how small she is, how tight her entrance looks. Your cock is still rock hard, throbbing with need, and when you wrap your hand around it to guide yourself into position, the contrast between your thick shaft and her delicate pussy is unbelievable. There's no way this isn't going to be a challenge.
Winter and Dahyun move to kneel on either side of you, close enough that you can feel the heat from their bodies. Haewon notices and her eyes narrow.
"Are you two just going to stand there and stare at me?"
"Yes," they answer in unison, and Dahyun grins. "We don't want to miss this for anything. This is historic. Haewon losing her virginity."
"You're going to take his huge cock," Winter adds, and her hand comes to rest on your shoulder, squeezing gently. "We want to watch you fall apart on it like I did."
You lean forward, using one hand to brace yourself above Haewon while the other guides your cock to her entrance. The head makes contact with her wetness and she inhales sharply, her whole body tensing. You rub yourself against her, coating your tip in her arousal and spreading it around, teasing her clit with each pass.
"I'll go slow," you promise, meeting her eyes. "Tell me if you need me to stop."
Haewon nods, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "Okay. I'm ready. I think."
You start to push forward, applying steady pressure, and watch as her entrance starts to stretch around you. It's immediately clear that this is going to be difficult. Haewon is incredibly tight, even tighter than Winter was, and getting just the head of your cock inside her requires real effort. You push a bit harder and feel her body start to yield, her opening stretching wider to accommodate your girth.
"Oh fuck," Haewon gasps, and her hands fly up to grip your forearms. "Oh fuck, that's big. That's really big."
"Just the tip," Dahyun says from beside you, watching with rapt attention. "You're barely inside her and look how stretched she is already."
You push forward another inch and Haewon's back arches off the bed, her mouth falling open in a silent cry. Her eyes roll back slightly behind her glasses, and the expression on her face is pure overwhelmed pleasure and discomfort simultaneously.
"Breathe," you remind her, holding still to let her adjust. "You're doing so good. Taking me so well."
"It hurts," she whimpers, but even as she says it her hips are rocking slightly, like her body can't decide whether to pull away or take more. "You're too big. It's too much."
"You can handle it," Winter encourages, reaching down to stroke Haewon's hair. "I know it feels impossible but your body will adjust. Just breathe through it."
"Look at how wet you're getting," Dahyun observes, and she's right. Despite the obvious difficulty, Haewon's pussy is absolutely dripping, arousal coating your cock and running down to soak the sheets beneath her. "Your body wants it even if it's struggling to take it."
You pull back slightly and then push forward again, gaining another inch. Haewon cries out, her fingernails digging into your arms. Her pussy is gripping you so tight it's almost painful, her inner walls clenching and fluttering around the few inches you've managed to work inside.
"Holy shit, I can see you stretching her open," Hanni says from where she's moved to get a better view. "Her pussy looks like it's going to split."
"It feels like it's going to split," Haewon gasps, and tears are streaming down her face now, though you can't tell if they're from pain or pleasure or both. "Fuck, how much more is there?"
"You're maybe a quarter of the way down," you tell her, and she makes a sound that's half laugh, half sob.
"A quarter? Jesus Christ." She takes a shuddering breath and looks up at you with determination. "Keep going. I can take it. I want to take all of it."
You establish a rhythm, pushing forward in small increments and then holding still to let her body adjust before continuing. Each inch is a struggle, her tight channel resisting the intrusion even as it floods with more arousal. Haewon is a mess beneath you, alternating between gasping in pain and moaning in pleasure, her small body trembling with the effort of accommodating your size.
"That's it," you encourage, pushing deeper. "You're taking my cock so well. Such a good girl."
The praise makes her clench around you involuntarily, and she whimpers at the sensation. "It's so deep already. How are you not done yet?"
"Because he's fucking huge," Winter answers, her hand sliding down your back in a soothing gesture. "Nine inches of thick cock. It takes time."
"I want to touch," Dahyun says suddenly, and before anyone can respond her hand is sliding down between Haewon's legs to where you're penetrating her. Her fingers trace around Haewon's stretched entrance, feeling where she's wrapped around you. "Oh my god. You're stretched so tight around him. I can barely fit my finger alongside his cock."
Haewon makes a strangled sound at the additional sensation, her hips jerking. "Don't. Too much. Everything is too much."
But Dahyun doesn't remove her hand. Instead she moves up to circle Haewon's clit, applying gentle pressure. The effect is immediate. Haewon's pussy floods with more wetness and you're able to slide deeper, getting past the halfway point.
"There you go," Dahyun coos. "See? Your clit needs attention too. It helps."
You're nearly six inches deep now, and you can feel yourself pressing against Haewon's cervix. She's gasping with every breath, her chest heaving, and when you look down you can see the slight bulge in her lower abdomen where your cock is creating a visible distention.
"Look," you say, pressing your hand flat against her stomach. "You can see me inside you."
All three watching girls lean in to look, and their collective gasp is gratifying. Haewon tries to lift her head to see but can't manage it, too overwhelmed by sensation.
"That's so hot," Winter breathes. "Your cock is so deep in her that we can see it pushing her stomach out."
"I want a picture," Hanni says suddenly. "We need to document this. Our first times."
"Later," you grunt, because holding still this deep inside Haewon's impossibly tight pussy is taking all your self control. "Right now I need to move."
You pull back slowly and Haewon sobs in relief, but then you're pushing back in and she's crying out again. You start to fuck her with shallow thrusts, never pulling out more than a few inches before driving back in. Each thrust gets a little easier as her body produces more natural lubrication, as her muscles start to relax and accept the intrusion.
"Oh god," Haewon moans, and her legs come up to wrap around your waist, heels digging into your ass to pull you deeper. "Oh god, it's starting to feel good. Really good."
"Told you," Winter says smugly. "Your body adjusts and then it's amazing."
You pick up the pace slightly, driving into her with more force. The wet sounds of your cock pounding into her fill the room, obscene and perfect. Haewon's small tits are bouncing with each thrust, and Dahyun leans down to take one nipple in her mouth, sucking and biting gently.
"Too much," Haewon gasps, but she's arching into it rather than pulling away. "Everything is too much but I don't want you to stop. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
"I won't," you promise, angling your hips to hit deeper. "I'm going to fuck this tight little pussy until you can't think straight."
"Already can't think," she admits, and she's right. You can see it in her eyes, the way they've gone hazy and unfocused. She's completely overwhelmed by sensation, her brain short circuiting from the combination of pleasure and the sheer fullness of having you inside her. "Your cock is breaking me."
"Breaking you in," you correct, and you punctuate it with a particularly deep thrust that has her screaming. "Making this pussy mine."
"Yours," she agrees immediately, mindlessly. "All yours. Anything you want."
Every time you think her body has adjusted, every time you try to push deeper, you're met with resistance. She's just so small, so tight, and even though she's dripping wet and desperate for more, her body can only take so much of your size. But fuck if it doesn't feel incredible, her hot walls clenching around you, her pussy fluttering with every small movement you make.
"Faster," Haewon suddenly gasps, her legs tightening around your waist. "Please, I need you to go faster."
You're surprised she's asking for more when she's barely managing what she's got, but you're not about to deny her. You pick up the pace, driving into her with shorter, faster strokes that keep you at the same depth but increase the friction and Haewon immediately starts making these high pitched keening sounds that tell you you've found the right rhythm.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes," she chants, her head thrashing on the pillow. Her glasses are completely fogged now, sliding down her nose, but she doesn't seem to notice or care. "Just like that. Don't stop. Please don't fucking stop."
You can see her brain starting to short circuit, the way her eyes are going glassy and unfocused, the way her mouth hangs open as she struggles to form coherent thoughts. The combination of your cock stretching her, the depth of the penetration even at only half your length, and the rapid pace is overwhelming her completely. She's becoming cock drunk right before your eyes, reduced to nothing but sensation and need.
The bulge in her stomach is visible with every thrust, your cock creating an obscene distension that moves as you fuck into her. It's mesmerizing to watch, seeing physical proof of how deep you are inside her small body, how thoroughly you're filling her. Winter and Dahyun are transfixed by it too, their eyes glued to Haewon's stomach.
Hanni moves closer, kneeling beside Haewon's head, and she's looking down at her friend with pride and arousal. "You're doing so good," she murmurs, stroking Haewon's sweat dampened hair. "Taking his cock like a champ."
Haewon tries to respond but can only manage broken sounds, her ability to speak completely gone. Hanni smiles at that, leans down, and does something completely unexpected. She gathers saliva in her mouth and spits directly into Haewon's open mouth. Then she's kissing her, deep and dirty, tongue sliding against Haewon's as they share the saliva between them.
The sight of them kissing while you fuck Haewon is so fucking filthy. You groan and thrust harder, chasing your own building pleasure. Your hand slides down between Haewon's legs, finding her clit swollen and sensitive, and you start rubbing tight circles around it.
The effect is instantaneous. Haewon breaks the kiss to scream, her whole body going rigid. "Oh my god, oh my god, I'm going to die. You're going to fucking kill me with your cock."
"You're not dying," you grunt, rubbing her clit faster while maintaining the brutal pace. "You're going to cum. Cum on my cock like a good girl."
The combination of your cock pounding into her, hitting her g spot with every thrust, and your fingers working her clit is too much. Haewon's orgasm hits her hard, her back arching completely off the bed as she lets out a scream that's almost inhuman. Her pussy clamps down on you so hard it's almost painful, and then you feel it. A rush of liquid, hot and sudden, as Haewon squirts.
The girls all scream in surprise as fluid gushes from where you're connected, soaking the sheets, your thighs, everything within reach. It's not a small amount either. Haewon is full on gushing, wave after wave of clear liquid shooting out around your cock as her orgasm continues to roll through her. The bed beneath her is absolutely drenched, a huge wet spot spreading across the sheets.
"Holy shit, she's squirting!" Winter shrieks, equal parts shocked and delighted. "Oh my god, she's squirting everywhere!"
"That's so much," Dahyun adds, watching with wide eyes as another surge of liquid pulses out.
You keep fucking Haewon through it, keep rubbing her clit, drawing out her orgasm until she's literally sobbing and pushing at your hand. Her eyes have rolled back completely, only whites visible behind her fogged glasses, and her mouth is open in a silent scream. She looks utterly destroyed, completely fucked stupid.
The sight of Haewon squirting all over you, combined with the vice grip of her pussy and the sheer intensity of the moment, pushes you right to the edge. You've been holding back for so long, fucking multiple girls without letting yourself cum, and the pressure has built to an almost painful level. You don't need to cum completely, don't need the full release yet, but you need some relief.
You pull out of Haewon's still convulsing pussy and stroke yourself rapidly. It only takes a few pumps before you're cumming, thick ropes of white shooting onto Haewon's stomach and chest. It's not your full load, you're holding back from completely finishing, but it's still a substantial amount. Your cum coats her pale skin, pooling in her belly button and between her small breasts, marking her as thoroughly fucked.
The relief is immediate and intense. Some of the desperate edge is gone, though you're still hard and ready for more. You've just taken the edge off, given yourself some breathing room.
All four girls are staring at your cum painting Haewon's torso with fascination. Haewon herself is barely conscious, still trembling with aftershocks, her eyes closed and mouth slightly open as she tries to remember how to breathe.
"Is that..." Hanni trails off, leaning closer to look. "Is that his cum?"
"Has to be," Winter says. "Look at how much there is."
"And he didn't even finish completely," Dahyun observes. "He's still hard."
Before anyone can comment further, Hanni leans down and drags her tongue through a pool of cum on Haewon's stomach. The other girls watch with wide eyes as she pulls back, visibly tasting it, rolling it around in her mouth. Her face goes through several expressions as she processes the flavor.
"Well?" Winter asks impatiently. "What's it like?"
"It's..." Hanni pauses, thinking. "Salty. A bit bitter. But not bad. Kind of thick and warm." She considers for another moment. "Actually, I like it."
That's all the encouragement the others need. Dahyun dives in next, licking a stripe up Haewon's ribs and collecting cum on her tongue. She makes a considering sound. "Oh, this is good. It's weirdly addictive. I want more."
Winter is more delicate about it, using her finger to scoop up some cum before bringing it to her mouth. She sucks her finger clean and her eyes light up. "It tastes like him. Like his smell but as a flavor." She immediately goes back for more. "I love it."
The three of them set about licking Haewon's stomach clean, their tongues working over her skin. Haewon starts giggling weakly, the sensation tickling her oversensitive body. "Stop, that tickles. I can't... I'm too sensitive."
But they don't stop, determined to taste every drop of cum you've marked her with. They're making appreciative sounds, comparing notes on the flavor and texture like they're wine tasting.
"It's thicker than I expected," Hanni observes, gathering more on her tongue.
"And warmer,” Dahyun gives her opinion.
"The slightly bitter aftertaste is actually good," Winter says. "Makes me want to taste more."
You watch them clean Haewon's skin with their eager tongues, and your cock twitches with renewed interest despite having just cum. These nerdy virgins have transformed into cum hungry girls right before your eyes, and there are still two of them that need to be properly fucked.
Haewon finally manages to open her eyes. "That was..." She can't finish the sentence, just shakes her head. "I can't believe I squirted. I didn't even know I could do that."
"You soaked the entire bed," you tell her with a grin. "And my cock. You were gushing."
She blushes deeply but looks pleased. "Your cock is magic. It broke my brain. I literally couldn't think about anything except how full I was and how good it felt."
"That's the goal," you say, stroking yourself slowly. You're still rock hard, still ready to go. "Who's next?"
Hanni takes a deep breath and straightens up from where she's been watching Haewon recover. "Me," she announces. The other girls immediately start cheering, clapping and chanting her name.
"Hanni! Hanni! Hanni!"
She laughs, the sound slightly awkward and breathy, her cheeks flushing pink as she approaches the bed. You shift position, giving her space, and she climbs onto the mattress with careful movements. Her body is beautiful in the soft bedroom lighting, all smooth skin and gentle curves. You can see the slight tremble in her hands, the way she's breathing a bit too fast.
"How do you want to do this?" you ask, giving her the choice. After watching two of her friends struggle with your size, she deserves to pick what feels most comfortable.
Hanni bites her lip, thinking. "How would you like it?" she deflects, ever the considerate one even now.
You let your eyes rake over her body appreciatively, lingering on the curve of her ass. "Doggy style," you say. "You've got a nice ass. I understand Haewon. I want to watch it while I fuck you."
Her blush deepens but she nods, already moving to position herself. "Okay. Yeah. Let's do that."
She gets on all fours, and the position showcases her body perfectly. Her ass is round and pert, her thighs slightly spread, and you can see her pussy glistening between her legs, already wet from watching and participating in everything that's happened. Her back has a slight curve to it, and when she adjusts her position, arching slightly, it becomes even more pronounced.
You move behind her, kneeling on the bed, and wrap one hand around your still hard cock. You're slick with a combination of your own precum, Haewon's arousal, and the remnants of your partial release. You rub the head of your cock against Hanni's entrance, sliding through her wetness, teasing her clit with each pass. She gasps and pushes back against you instinctively.
"You two look so beautiful together," Winter says, her hand is already drifting between her legs again. "You're so big and strong and perfect behind our sweet Hanni."
Dahyun moves to your side, her hands immediately going to your body. She traces the lines of your abs, follows the definition of your obliques. "These muscles," she breathes, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You're like a sculpture."
Haewon joins from the other side, her hands running up your arms, squeezing your biceps. "So strong," she murmurs, kissing your other shoulder, then your neck. "So perfect."
Winter comes closer too, and suddenly you've got three sets of hands on you, exploring your body, mapping your muscles with reverent touches and soft kisses. It's worshipful, the way they're touching you, like they can't believe they're allowed to do this.
"Wait," Winter says suddenly, pausing mid kiss. "If he's our boyfriend, and we're all dating him..." She trails off, working through the logic. "Does that mean we're all girlfriends with each other too? Like, is this a polyamorous situation where we're all in a relationship together, or is it more of a V structure where he's the center point?"
"That's actually a really good question," Dahyun chimes in, pulling back from kissing your chest. "Because technically if we're all in a committed relationship unit, then the bonds between us would also qualify as romantic partnerships, especially given that some of us have already engaged in sexual activity with each other."
"It depends on how we define the parameters," Haewon adds thoughtfully. "Are we treating this as four separate dyadic relationships that happen to be concurrent, or as one pentadic relationship with multiple connection points?"
"Oh my god," Hanni suddenly snaps from her position on all fours, looking back at them over her shoulder. "Can you three shut the fuck up and discuss your nerdy semantics literally any other time? I'm about to lose my virginity here and you're debating relationship structures?"
The three girls immediately stop talking, looking appropriately chastised. "Sorry," they chorus, and it would be funny if you weren't also achingly hard and desperate to be inside Hanni.
"Thank you," Hanni says, turning back around. She adjusts her position, spreading her knees slightly wider. "Okay. I'm ready now. Please fuck me before they start discussing something else."
You line yourself up properly this time, the head of your cock pressing against her entrance. You push forward slowly and feel immediate resistance. Hanni is tight, just as tight as the others were, and you have to apply steady pressure to start breaching her. The head of your cock finally pops inside and Hanni makes a sharp sound, her hands fisting in the sheets.
"Okay?" you ask, holding still to let her adjust.
"Yeah," she gasps. "Just give me a second. You're really fucking big."
You wait, rubbing soothing circles on her hips with your thumbs. When you feel some of the tension leave her body, you push forward another inch. Hanni whimpers, her back arching more, and you can see her struggling with the intrusion.
"Breathe," you remind her, working another inch inside. "Relax your muscles. Let me in."
"Trying," she pants. "You're stretching me so much. It feels like you're splitting me open."
The girls are watching with rapt attention, all three of them touching themselves now as they observe Hanni taking your cock. You can see Winter biting her lip, Dahyun with her fingers working frantically, Haewon with her hand buried between her legs.
You establish a rhythm of pushing forward a bit, then holding still, then pushing forward again. Inch by agonizing inch, you work your way into Hanni's virgin pussy. Every time you think you've gotten her to adjust, you push deeper and meet new resistance. She's making continuous whimpering sounds, pain and pleasure, her body trembling with effort.
"How much is in?" Hanni asks after what feels like forever.
You look down at where you're connected, at the obscene stretch of her pussy around your thick shaft. "About halfway," you tell her.
"Halfway," she repeats, almost laughing. "Oh my god. Halfway. There's still so much more."
"You don't have to take it all," you assure her, though part of you desperately wants to bury yourself completely inside her. "We can work with this."
"No," she says with sudden determination. "I want more. Keep going. I can handle it."
You push forward again, and this time you manage to slide another two inches inside before Hanni cries out and you feel her body seize up. "Stop, stop, that's too much," she gasps.
You freeze immediately, not pulling out but not pushing deeper. You're maybe five inches deep now, just over half your length, and Hanni is panting like she's run a marathon. Her pussy is clenching rhythmically around you, and you can feel every flutter and pulse.
"That's it," she finally says. "That's all I can take right now. That's already way too much. Please just... just fuck me like this. I need you to move."
You pull back slowly, watching your cock slide out of her before pushing back in to the same depth. Hanni moans, the sound long and low, and her hips push back to meet your thrust. You establish a steady rhythm, fucking her with just over half your cock, and even that feels incredible. Her pussy is so tight, so wet, gripping you like she never wants to let go.
"Oh god," Hanni moans, dropping down to her elbows. The new angle has her ass higher in the air, and the position lets you slide marginally deeper. "Oh fuck, that's so good. Your cock is so good."
You pick up the pace, your hips slapping against her ass with each thrust. You can see her pussy stretched obscenely around your girth, can see the way her arousal is coating your shaft and dripping down her thighs.
"Look at her take it," Winter breathes, her fingers working faster between her own legs. "She's taking that huge cock so well."
"Her pussy looks like it's going to break," Dahyun adds, but there's awe in her words rather than concern. "But she's loving it. Look at how wet she is."
You grip Hanni's hips harder, using the leverage to pull her back onto your cock as you thrust forward. The increased force has her crying out with each impact, her whole body jolting forward. Her ass jiggles with every slap of your hips, and you land a firm smack on one cheek just to watch it bounce.
"Fuck!" Hanni yelps at the spank, but her pussy clenches hard around you. "Do that again."
You oblige, spanking her other cheek, then alternating sides. Her ass turns pink under your palm, and each smack makes her pussy grip you tighter. She's moaning continuously now, completely lost in the sensation of being fucked from behind, filled with your thick cock, used for your pleasure.
"I'm addicted," she gasps out between thrusts. "I'm addicted to your cock. This is all I'm going to think about from now on."
"Good," you grunt, fucking her harder. "That's exactly what I want. Want all four of you thinking about my cock constantly."
"We will be," Haewon confirms, still touching herself. "We already are. I can't stop thinking about how it felt inside me. How full I was. How it made me squirt."
You can feel your own pleasure building again, but you hold it back. Not yet. You still have Dahyun to fuck, and you want to make sure all four of them are thoroughly satisfied before you completely let go. But fuck, Hanni's pussy feels incredible, and watching her take your cock from behind, seeing her ass ripple with each thrust, is testing your control.
"More," Hanni demands, pushing back against you. "Harder. I can take it. Fuck me harder."
So you do.
You grip Hanni's hips harder, fingers digging into her soft flesh, and you start fucking her with real force. Each thrust drives that half of your cock deep into her tight pussy, and the impact of your hips against her ass creates a rhythm of flesh slapping against flesh that echoes through the room. Hanni's moans climb in pitch and volume with each powerful stroke, her arms trembling from holding herself up as you pound into her from behind.
Your hand comes down on her ass again with a sharp crack, and the pale skin immediately flushes pink under your palm. Hanni cries out, but her pussy clenches around you tighter and you can feel a fresh flood of arousal coating your cock. You spank her other cheek, then alternate between sides, watching her ass bounce and jiggle with each impact, the skin turning increasingly red from your attention.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Hanni chants. She’s moaning so loud you worry her voice might go hoarse. "I feel like such a whore. Getting spanked and fucked from behind like this. God, I'm such a whore."
"You're my whore," you correct, landing another sharp smack on her reddened ass. "Say it."
"I'm your whore!" she practically screams, pushing back to meet your thrusts. "Your whore, your slut, whatever you want. Just don't stop fucking me!"
She starts throwing herself back onto your cock with abandon, meeting each of your thrusts with equal force, taking you as deep as her body can manage. The wet, obscene sounds of your fucking intensify, joined by the sharp cracks of your palm meeting her ass and her increasingly desperate moans.
You can feel her getting close, recognizing the signs now after watching Winter and Haewon cum. Her pussy is fluttering around you more frequently, clenching in irregular patterns. Her breathing has become ragged and uneven, punctuated by high pitched whimpers. Her whole body is trembling, muscles tensing as she climbs toward that peak.
"I'm close," she gasps, confirming your observation. "Oh god, I'm so close. Don't stop, please don't fucking stop."
You don't. You maintain the brutal pace, driving into her over and over, each thrust accompanied by the slap of skin on skin. Your free hand slides around to find her clit, and the moment your fingers make contact, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud, Hanni absolutely loses it.
Her back arches sharply, head thrown back, and she lets out a scream that's probably going to have her neighbors concerned. Her pussy clamps down on your cock with incredible force, rhythmic pulses that milk your shaft as waves of pleasure crash through her. You keep fucking her through it, keep rubbing her clit, drawing it out until she's sobbing with the intensity.
"Too much, too much," she finally gasps, but you don't stop until you feel her body start to go limp, her arms giving out.
She collapses forward onto the bed, her ass still in the air for a moment before her whole body just melts into the mattress. Your cock slides out of her as she falls, leaving her pussy gaping and twitching, completely wrecked. She's face down in the sheets, making small whimpering sounds, her entire body trembling with aftershocks.
You're breathing hard yourself, your cock still rock hard and throbbing. Watching Hanni fall apart on your cock, hearing her scream and feeling her cum around you, has you desperate to finish. But there's still one more virgin to fuck. One more girl who needs to be thoroughly broken in.
Winter leans over Hanni's prone form, brushing sweat dampened hair away from her face. "Hey, Hanni," she says with a grin. "Quick physics question: can you explain the quantum mechanical model of the atom and how it differs from the Bohr model?"
Hanni's response is completely incoherent, just a mumbled string of sounds that might be words in some language but definitely aren't English. Her eyes are unfocused, staring at nothing, and there's a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth.
"Yep, it worked," Dahyun confirms with satisfaction, looking down at their friend. "She's been fucked stupid. Her brain is completely ruined."
"That was the goal," Haewon adds, reaching out to pat Hanni's ass gently. The touch makes Hanni flinch and whimper. "Mission accomplished."
You move to lie down next to Hanni for a moment, turning her face toward you gently. Her eyes eventually focus on you, and a slow, blissed out smile spreads across her face. You lean in and give her a quick, soft kiss.
"How do you feel?" you ask.
"Glorious," she slurs. "Absolutely fucking glorious. I'm not a virgin anymore." She laughs weakly. "I had a cock inside me. A huge, perfect cock. And I came so hard I think I blacked out for a second."
"You did amazing," you tell her, and her smile widens.
"Okay," Dahyun says, standing up and drawing your attention. "It's finally my turn. I've been watching everyone else get fucked stupid and I need it now!"
You sit up, then stand, your cock still rigid and glistening with Hanni's arousal. Dahyun's eyes immediately lock onto it, following every movement as you approach her. When you're close enough, you reach out and simply scoop her up, lifting her completely off the ground like she weighs nothing. She lets out a surprised squeal that dissolves into giggles as she wraps her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist.
"Hi," she says breathlessly, and up close you can see how blown her pupils are, how flushed her cheeks are.
She leans in and kisses you. Her tongue slides against yours, and you can taste the faint remnants of your cum that she licked off Haewon earlier. When she pulls back, she's panting.
"Use me," Dahyun says, and despite the crude words, she sounds almost pleading. "Use me nice and good. I want to feel everything. I want you to fuck me until I can't remember my own name."
You can feel her wet pussy pressed against your abs where she's straddling you, leaving a slick trail of arousal on your skin. Her small breasts are pressed against your chest, nipples hard points of sensation. She's trembling slightly in your arms, but you can tell it's from anticipation rather than fear.
"I will," you promise, and the three girls watching from the bed make various sounds of excitement. "I'm going to fuck you so good you'll feel it for days."
You adjust your grip on her. One hand slides under her ass to support her weight, and the other reaches down to position your cock. She's so light in your arms that holding her up is effortless, your athletic strength making this position completely manageable.
You shift her slightly higher, then reach down to grip your cock, angling it upward. The head makes contact with her entrance and Dahyun gasps, her whole body tensing in your arms. You can feel how small she is, how tight, and you know this is going to be a challenge. But the way she's looking at you, eyes wide and hungry behind those glasses, pigtails framing her flushed face, makes you want to give her everything she's asking for.
"Ready?" you ask, and she nods frantically.
"So ready. I've been waiting and watching everyone else and I need it. Please."
You start to lower her slowly, letting gravity do some of the work, but mostly controlling her descent with your hands. The head of your cock pushes against her entrance, and you feel the resistance immediately. She's incredibly tight, her body fighting the intrusion even though she's soaking wet. You push up slightly with your hips while pulling her down, applying steady pressure, and finally the head pops inside.
Dahyun's reaction is immediate and visceral. Her head falls back, mouth dropping open in a silent scream, and her fingernails dig into your shoulders hard enough to leave marks. "Oh my God! Oh my God, you're so big. So fucking big."
"Just the tip," you remind her, holding her steady so she can adjust. "There's a lot more to go."
"I know," she whimpers, and there are already tears gathering in her eyes. "I watched you fuck everyone else. I saw how much there is. But feeling it is so different from watching it."
You give her a minute to breathe, to let her body start accepting the intrusion, before you lower her another inch. She cries out, her legs tightening around your waist reflexively, her inner walls clenching and fluttering as they try to accommodate your girth.
You can see the struggle on her face. "Breathe," you instruct, and she takes a shuddering breath. "Relax your muscles. Let me in."
Dahyun nods, clearly trying to follow your instructions, but her body has other ideas. Every inch you gain is a battle, her tight channel resisting even as it floods with more arousal. You establish a pattern of lowering her slightly, holding still while she adjusts, then lowering her more. It's agonizingly slow, but you can tell she needs it this way. Needs time to adapt to your size.
"How much?" she asks after what feels like forever.
You glance down at where you're connected, at the obscene stretch of her pussy around your cock. "About halfway."
"Only halfway?" She sounds shocked and aroused in equal measure. "There's so much more. I don't know if I can take it."
"You can," you assure her, though you're not actually sure. She's so small, so tight, and you're hitting resistance every time you try to go deeper. "Your body will adjust. Just trust me."
You continue working her down onto your cock, and somewhere around the five inch mark, you feel something give way. Dahyun screams, going completely rigid in your arms, and you know you've just taken her virginity. Blood mixed with arousal drips down your shaft, and you hold her completely still, letting her process the pain and the overwhelming fullness.
"The worst part is over," you tell her gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You did so good. Such a good girl."
The praise seems to help. She takes several deep breaths and some of the tension leaves her body. "Keep going," she says after a moment. "I want more. I want to take as much as I can."
You manage to work another inch into her before she simply can't take anymore. You're just over half your length inside her, the same as with the others, and her body is at its limit. Her pussy is stretched obscenely around you, gripping so tight you can barely move, and you can see the slight bulge in her lower stomach where your cock is distending her from the inside.
"That's it," you say, shifting your grip on her. "That's all you can take right now. Is that okay?"
"More than okay," she pants. "I'm so full. So incredibly full. Please move. Please fuck me."
You start with small movements, just lifting her slightly and lowering her back down, shallow thrusts that keep you at the same depth. Dahyun moans with each movement, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. You can feel her hot breath against your neck, can hear every gasp and whimper she makes as you slowly fuck her while holding her in the air.
The position gives you incredible control and leverage. Your arms support her weight easily, your strength allowing you to lift and lower her onto your cock with precision. Every time you lower her, gravity helps drive her down onto your shaft. Every time you lift her, you can control exactly how much slides out before you pull her back down. It's intoxicating, this level of control, and from the sounds Dahyun is making, she's loving every second of it.
"That's it," you encourage as you start to pick up the pace. "Take my cock. Show me what a good girl you are."
Her pussy is adjusting now, producing more natural lubrication with every thrust. What started as tight resistance is becoming slick and creamy, her arousal coating your shaft and dripping down to your balls.
"Faster," she begs. "Please go faster. I can take it. I need it."
You oblige, increasing your pace, lifting and lowering her with more force. Each thrust drives that half of your cock deep into her tight pussy, and you can feel every clench and flutter of her inner walls. Dahyun is panting and moaning continuously now, completely lost in the sensation of being filled and fucked while suspended in the air.
"Oh god, oh fuck," she gasps, and then between moans, something slips out. "Daddy. Fuck, Daddy, it feels so good."
From the bed, you hear an audible gasp. "Oh my god," Winter says. "That's so hot. Say it again, Dahyun."
"Daddy!" Dahyun moans, louder. "Daddy, please, fuck me harder."
"Holy shit," Hanni breathes, having recovered enough to pay attention. "That's... that's really doing something for me."
"Me too," Haewon admits. "Can we... can we call you that too?"
You look over at the three of them watching from the bed, and they're all staring at you with something close to worship. "Yeah," you say. "Call me daddy. All of you."
"Daddy," Winter says experimentally, and the word sounds perfect in her mouth.
"Daddy," Hanni repeats, biting her lip.
"Daddy," Haewon adds, and there's a moan underlying the word.
The effect on you is electric. Having four nerdy girls all calling you daddy while you fuck one of them is a power trip unlike anything you've experienced. You start fucking Dahyun harder, bouncing her on your cock with real force now, and she's screaming with pleasure.
"Yes, Daddy!" she cries out, her pigtails bouncing with every thrust. "Fuck me, Daddy! Use me!"
"Such a good girl," you growl, and the praise makes her clench around you. "Taking Daddy's cock so well. Being so perfect for me."
"I'm your good girl," she pants. "Your good girl, Daddy. Only yours."
You can feel her getting close, recognizing the signs now. Her pussy is clenching more frequently, her breathing becoming more erratic, her moans climbing in pitch. You adjust your angle slightly, making sure you're hitting her g-spot with every thrust, and Dahyun absolutely loses her mind.
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," she chants. "I'm going to cum, Daddy. Please let me cum. Please, please, please."
"Cum for Daddy," you command, fucking her even harder. "Cum all over my cock like a good girl."
That's all it takes. Her whole body convulsing in your arms. She screams so loud you're certain her neighbors are going to call the cops, her pussy clamping down on your cock with incredible force. You can feel her gushing, arousal flooding out around your cock and running down your legs, and you hold her tight as she shakes and trembles through the most intense orgasm of her life.
You don't stop fucking her. You keep thrusting, keep bouncing her on your cock, drawing out her orgasm until she's literally sobbing with the intensity. Her eyes have rolled back behind her glasses, her mouth hanging open, and she's making these broken, desperate sounds that tell you she's completely overwhelmed.
"Daddy, Daddy, too much," she finally gasps, but you give her a few more hard thrusts before you start to slow down. Her pussy is still pulsing around you, milking your cock, and you have to grit your teeth to maintain control and not cum yourself.
When her orgasm finally starts to subside, when her body stops convulsing quite so violently, you walk over to the bed and carefully lower her onto the mattress. She immediately curls into a ball, trembling, her glasses crooked on her face and her pigtails a complete mess. She's muttering something under her breath, words you can't quite make out.
"What was that?" you ask gently, brushing some hair away from her face.
Dahyun opens her eyes and looks at you with an expression of bliss and adoration. "That was the best feeling of my entire life," she says clearly. "I want to marry you. I want to marry you and fuck you every single day forever."
The other three girls giggle at that. "If you're marrying him, then you have to marry all of us," Winter points out. "We're all his girlfriends."
"Then we'll all marry him," Dahyun says with complete seriousness. "A four way marriage. Is that legal? Can we make that legal?"
"Pretty sure that's called polygamy and it's illegal in most places," Hanni says, but she's smiling. "But I'm not opposed to the idea in theory."
"We could move somewhere it's legal," Haewon suggests. "Just for him."
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at how serious they all sound, but when you look around at the four of them, you realize they're all staring at you with identical expressions. It's adoration, gratitude, and maybe love.
"You're all truly amazing," you tell them honestly, meeting each of their gazes. "And beautiful. All of you."
The smiles that bloom on their faces are radiant. The four girls exchange glances from their various positions on the bed, then, as one, they all look at you with identical expressions.
"It's time for you to cum now," Hanni says. "You've made all of us cum. You deserve to finish."
"We want to make you cum," Winter adds, already sliding off the bed to kneel on the floor. "Let us take care of you, Daddy."
The other three immediately follow her lead, moving to kneel in front of you in a row. Four nerdy girls with messy hair, fogged glasses, and faces still flushed from their orgasms, all looking up at you with adoration and lust. Your cock twitches at the sight, still rock hard and aching after holding back for so long.
"Please," Dahyun says, her pigtails disheveled and her lips swollen. "Let us worship your cock, Daddy. We need it."
You move to stand in front of them, and they immediately converge on your cock like it's the most precious thing they've ever seen. Eight hands reach out, touching and stroking, reacquainting themselves with your size and heat. Then mouths join in, tongues lapping at your shaft from multiple angles simultaneously.
Winter takes the head of your cock in her mouth while Hanni and Haewon lick up and down your shaft from either side, their tongues occasionally meeting in the middle. Dahyun focuses on your balls, sucking first one then the other into her mouth with attention. The combined sensation of four mouths and eight hands working together is overwhelming, pleasure sparking through your entire body.
"This is the best day of my life," Haewon murmurs between licks, her tongue tracing a vein along your shaft. "Getting fucked by Daddy and now getting to taste his cock again."
"Same," Winter agrees, pulling off your cock with a wet sound. "I can't believe this is real. That we get to do this."
They switch positions fluidly, Dahyun moving to suck your cock while Winter takes over ball duty. Hanni and Haewon continue their attention on your shaft, kissing and licking every inch they can reach. Their glasses keep bumping against your thighs and each other, but none of them seem to care.
"And we get to do this until the end of the semester," Hanni says. "That's months of this. Months of you fucking us and making us cum."
"Whenever we're stressed about exams or projects, we can just come to Daddy and he'll help us relax," Dahyun adds around your cock.
"It's perfect," Haewon agrees. "We'll never have to stress again. We have our big, strong boyfriend to take care of us."
You groan at their words, at the sensation of their mouths working you over. "I'm glad I don't have to worry about college anymore either," you manage to say. "Can just focus on rugby. And on you. All of you."
"Your girlfriends," Winter clarifies, looking up at you with those big eyes. "Say it, Daddy. We're your girlfriends."
"You're my girlfriends," you confirm, and all four of them make pleased sounds. "My beautiful, smart, perfect girlfriends."
"And you're going to take care of us," Hanni says, stroking your cock with both hands while Haewon sucks on the head. "Aren't you, Daddy?"
"I'll take care of all of you," you promise. "Make sure you're satisfied. Make sure you cum so hard you can't think straight."
"Like you already did," Dahyun giggles, then goes back to licking your balls. "We were all so smart before tonight. Now we're all cock drunk and stupid."
They return to their enthusiastic worship of your, taking turns sucking you while the others lick and stroke. The pleasure is building rapidly now, that familiar tightness in your balls that signals you're getting close. They must sense it because their movements become more urgent, more desperate.
"Daddy's so good to us," Winter coos, pressing kisses along your shaft. "Such a good Daddy, fucking us so well and making us feel so good."
"The best Daddy," Haewon agrees. "We're so lucky to have you."
"So lucky to be your good girls," Dahyun adds. "Your perfect little sluts who worship your cock."
Their dirty talk combined with the physical sensation is pushing you rapidly toward the edge. Your breathing gets heavier, your muscles tensing, and all four of them notice immediately.
"Are you close, Daddy?" Hanni asks, stroking you faster. "Are you going to cum for us?"
"Yes," you grit out. "Fuck, yes. I'm close."
"Cum on us," Winter begs, pulling back from your cock. "Bathe us in your cum, Daddy. We want it all over us."
"Cover us," Haewon adds, her hand joining Hanni's on your shaft. "Mark us as yours."
"Please, Daddy," Dahyun whimpers. "Give us all your cum. We need it so badly."
They all pull back slightly, giving themselves space, but their hands never leave your cock. Four sets of hands stroke you in a coordinated rhythm while they lean forward, faces tilted up, mouths open, tongues out. They're literally begging for your cum with their eyes.
"We want it," Hanni says. "Please, Daddy. Cum for your good girls."
They open their mouths wider, sticking their tongues out obscenely, and start gathering saliva to drool onto your cock. Thick strings of spit fall from their lips onto your shaft, making everything slicker, the sounds wetter and more obscene. Some of them start spitting directly onto your cock, adding to the mess.
"Look how pretty we are for you," Winter says. "All drooling and desperate for Daddy's cum."
"We're such good sluts," Dahyun agrees. "Your perfect little cum sluts who need to be painted white."
"Please," Haewon begs. "We're ready. Give it to us. Cover us."
The sight of four beautiful nerdy girls kneeling before you, faces upturned, mouths open, drool and spit covering your cock as they stroke you and beg for your cum is finally too much. You feel your orgasm building to a peak, that point of no return, and then you're there.
"Fuck," you groan. "I'm cumming. I'm fucking cumming."
The first rope of cum shoots out with incredible force, hitting Winter square in the face. It's a thick, heavy load, coating her glasses and dripping down her cheek. But you're nowhere near done. You've been holding back all night, building pressure with every orgasm you gave them without taking your own, and now it's all releasing at once.
The second shot hits Hanni, painting a line across her forehead and into her hair. The third catches Dahyun on her nose and lips. The fourth splashes across Haewon's glasses, completely obscuring one lens. And still you keep cumming, rope after rope of thick white cum erupting from your cock.
The girls don't stop stroking you, their hands working in tandem to milk every drop from your cock. They angle you slightly with each stroke, making sure all of them get covered. Your cum hits their faces, their glasses, drips down to coat their necks and chests. Some of it lands directly in their open mouths, on their tongues, and they moan at the taste.
"Oh my god," Winter gasps, cum dripping from her chin. "There's so much. It just keeps coming."
"It's so warm," Hanni says, cum running down her cheek. "And thick. Fuck, it feels so good."
More cum erupts, and this time it hits all four of them, a bukkake level load that seems impossible from one person. It coats Dahyun's pigtails, adds another layer to Winter's already drenched face, drips from Haewon's chin onto her small breasts, covers Hanni's glasses completely.
"Yes, yes, yes," Dahyun chants, still stroking you. "Give us all of it, Daddy. Every last drop."
They adjust their grip, milking your cock from base to tip with coordinated strokes that ensure nothing is wasted. Another few spurts coat them, smaller now but still substantial, adding to the absolute mess they've become. Cum is everywhere - in their hair, on their faces, dripping from their glasses, running down their necks and chests. They look thoroughly used, completely debauched, and they're all smiling like they've never been happier.
"So much cum," Haewon breathes, wiping some from her glasses only to smear it more. "I didn't know guys could cum this much."
"Daddy's special," Winter says, licking cum from her lips. "Daddy's perfect."
Your orgasm finally starts to subside, the last few drops being milked out by their persistent hands. Your cock is still hard, still sensitive, twitching with aftershocks as they continue to gently stroke it. You're breathing hard, muscles trembling slightly from the intensity of the release. The four girls finally stop stroking and sit back slightly, looking at each other and giggling at the state they're in.
"This feels amazing," Dahyun says, running her fingers through the cum on her face. "It's so warm and... I don't know. Right? It feels right to be covered in Daddy's cum."
"It does," Hanni agrees, making no move to wipe it off. "Like we're marked. Like we belong to him."
"We do belong to him," Winter says, scooping some cum from her cheek and bringing it to her mouth. "And this is proof. We're Daddy's good girls, covered in his cum."
Haewon uses her fingers to gather cum from her face and neck, then brings them to her mouth to suck clean. "I could get addicted to this. To the taste, the feeling, all of it."
They all start doing the same, using their fingers to scoop up your cum and taste it, comparing notes. Some of it they leave on their skin, seemingly content to be covered in it, marked by you. Their glasses are completely obscured in some cases, cum dripping down the lenses, but none of them move to clean them properly.
"Best day ever," Dahyun declares, cum dripping from her chin. "Getting fucked stupid and covered in cum. This is everything I've ever dreamed of."
Winter uses her fingers to scoop some from her cheek and spreads it across Hanni's face in a deliberate smear, giggling as she does. Hanni returns the favor, gathering cum from her own forehead and painting it across Winter's lips like obscene lipstick.
"We should share everything equally," Haewon says with a grin, using both hands to gather the thick ropes of cum dripping down her neck. She reaches over to Dahyun and spreads it across her cheeks, adding to what's already there.
Dahyun laughs and does the same, taking cum from her chest and smearing it onto Haewon's face. "Can't let anyone feel left out. We all need to be properly covered."
The four of them continue this way, redistributing your cum across all their faces until they're more or less equally coated in the mess. Some of it they bring to their mouths, tasting it again, moaning at the flavor. Some they spread down their necks and chests, making sure every inch of exposed skin has at least some of your cum marking it. It's filthy and strangely sweet, the way they're sharing this moment.
Then Winter leans in and kisses Hanni, and it's not a small peck. It's deep and dirty, their tongues sliding together, sharing the taste of your cum between their mouths. When they pull apart, strings of saliva and cum connect their lips, and they both look dazed.
"My turn," Dahyun says, grabbing Haewon and pulling her into a similarly filthy kiss. Haewon moans into it, her hands coming up to tangle in Dahyun's messy pigtails.
They switch partners, all four of them kissing each other in various combinations, passing your cum between their mouths like it's precious. Winter kisses Haewon while Hanni kisses Dahyun, then they switch again. It's a mess of tongues and lips and your cum, and watching them share it so eagerly makes your spent cock twitch with renewed interest.
Suddenly Dahyun pulls back from kissing Winter. "Wait. We need to capture this moment."
She scrambles to her feet, cum still dripping down her face and body, and rushes over to Hanni's desk where several phones are charging. She grabs hers, unlocking it with cum smeared fingers, and rushes back to the group.
"Come here, Daddy," she says, gesturing for you. "Get in the shot."
You move to stand behind them as they huddle together on their knees, Dahyun holding her phone up at arm's length to get everyone in frame. Four cum covered faces with glasses either fogged or completely obscured by your load, all smiling brilliantly. You lean down into the shot, and Dahyun snaps several photos in quick succession.
"Perfect," she says, reviewing them. "This is the moment we lost our virginity, captured forever. Look how happy we all are."
She shows the photos around, and the girls all coo over them. You have to admit, there's something compelling about the images. Four nerdy girls who were virgins an hour ago, now thoroughly fucked and covered in cum, all beaming with joy and satisfaction.
You straighten up and take a deep breath, suddenly feeling the exhaustion settling into your bones. The adrenaline is wearing off, and you realize just how much energy you expended tonight. "That was too much for one night," you say, looking around at the destroyed bedroom. The sheets are soaked with various fluids, there's cum everywhere, and you can smell the thick musk of sex permeating the air. "I should probably head home."
"No!" All four girls protest simultaneously, scrambling to their feet.
"You have to stay," Winter insists, grabbing your arm. "You can't just fuck us and leave."
"That's literally what you tried to do to us academically," Hanni points out. "Except we're not letting you. You're staying."
"There's space," Haewon adds. "Okay, not much space, but we'll manage. We can all squeeze onto the bed together."
"Aftercare is part of the contract," Dahyun says firmly, her cum covered face somehow still managing to look serious. "We need some pampering from our boyfriend after losing our virginities. That's non negotiable."
You look at their expectant faces, all of them still dripping with your cum, and you can't bring yourself to argue. The truth is, you don't really want to leave either. Despite the exhaustion, despite how insane this whole night has been, you want to stay with them.
"Okay," you agree, and four faces light up with joy. "I'll stay."
"Yes!" Dahyun pumps her fist, then immediately makes a face. "Ugh, I'm so sticky. We need to shower."
"Definitely shower," Hanni agrees, looking down at herself. "I have cum in places I didn't know cum could reach."
"We should all shower together," Winter suggests. "It's more efficient. And more fun."
"You want Daddy to shower with us?" Haewon asks, though she's already smiling at the idea.
"Obviously," Winter says. "The contract includes aftercare, which includes helping us get clean after he made such a mess of us."
They all look at you expectantly, and you can't help but laugh. "Yeah, alright. I'll shower with you."
The squeals of excitement that follow are almost deafening. Dahyun rushes toward you with her arms outstretched. "Hug!"
You hold up a hand to stop her. "No way! Later. You're all sticky right now."
This sends all four of them into fits of giggles, looking at each other and the mess you've made of them.
"Fair point," Dahyun concedes. "Shower first, then hugs."
They start heading toward the bathroom, chattering excitedly amongst themselves, and you follow behind. You can hear fragments of their conversation as they walk.
"There's that geek convention in three weeks," Hanni is saying. "The one with the cosplay competition."
"Oh my god, we should totally go!" Winter says enthusiastically. "And we should bring Daddy."
"We can all do group cosplay," Haewon adds. "Something where he can show off his muscles."
"Like the Avengers!" Dahyun suggests. "He could be Thor or Captain America."
"Or we could do something from an anime," Hanni counters. "Maybe Attack on Titan? He'd make an amazing Eren."
"Ooh, or we could go with something from a video game," Winter says. "League of Legends characters, maybe?"
They continue debating cosplay ideas as you all pile into Hanni's bathroom. It's not a huge space, and with five people it's definitely crowded, but nobody seems to mind. You watch them debating whether to do a Sailor Moon group cosplay or something from My Hero Academia. They're genuinely excited about bringing you into their world, sharing their interests with you.
Dahyun catches you watching them and smiles. "What are you thinking about, Daddy?"
"Just that maybe this isn't such a bad deal after all," you admit.
All four of them beam at that, and Winter reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze even though her fingers are still sticky with your cum.
"We're going to take such good care of you," she promises.
"And you're going to take care of us," Hanni adds with a grin.
"Deal," you agree.
As you all pile into the shower together, warm water starting to wash away the mess you've made of them, you can already hear them planning out your first public appearance as a group. Something about an anime movie marathon happening this weekend that they're determined to drag you to.
You probably should be freaking out about being seen with four nerdy girls when you're supposed to be the cool rugby guy. Should be worried about what your teammates are gonna say when they find out. But watching them get all excited explaining whatever anime plot they're rambling about, you realize you just... don't give a fuck anymore.
This is your life now. Four smart, beautiful, (slightly insane) girls who caught you trying to use them and flipped the whole thing on its head. They blackmailed you into this, sure, but somewhere between fucking them stupid and hearing them call you daddy, it stopped feeling like a transaction.
