The fluorescent lights of the executive floor hummed softly overhead as I sat behind my massive oak desk, scrolling through the morning reports on my laptop. Another ordinary Tuesday—or so I thought. The clock on the wall read 8:45 AM, and I was already nursing my third coffee, mind wandering to the one person who made this corporate grind bearable. Jiheon. My personal secretary now, but it hadn’t always been that way.
She’d started as my executive assistant six months ago, fresh-faced and efficient, with that sharp mind and those long legs that made every pencil skirt a goddamn weapon. I’d tried to keep it professional. Really, I had but temptation won I’d bent her over this very desk, hiked up that tight black dress, and fucked her senseless while she moaned my name like a prayer. After that day, there was no going back. I promoted her the next day to my personal secretary, direct access to me at all times, and zero complaints from HR because I made sure the paperwork was airtight. She was mine now, in every filthy, delicious way.
The door to my office clicked open at exactly 9:00 AM, right on schedule. I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat like I’d been punched in the gut.
There she was. Baek jiheon long, silky pink hair cascading down her back like cotton candy flames, the soft rose hue catching the light and making her look like some ethereal dream. She’d dyed it recently; I could tell by the way the roots were still a faint, fresh shade. Thin wire-rimmed glasses perched on her cute nose, framing those big, doe-like eyes that always sparkled with mischief. She wore her usual style of “uniform” for teasing me: a crisp blue-and-white striped button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the top two buttons undone just enough to hint at the lacy black bra underneath. A loose black tie hung between her perky tits, dangling like an invitation. But the real killer was the skirt—gray, pleated, and so fucking short it barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, the hem riding up with every step to flash the smooth skin of her legs. She carried a red pen in one hand, twirling it absentmindedly, her full lips painted a glossy red that matched it perfectly.
She knew exactly what she was doing. The shortest skirts. The tightest clothes. The way she swayed her hips just a little extra when she walked past my desk. Jiheon had turned teasing her favorite boss into an art form, and I was helplessly addicted.
“Morning, boss,” she purred, her voice sweet and husky as she closed the door behind her with a soft click. She set a stack of files on the edge of my desk, bending forward just enough that her shirt pulled tight across her chest. “I’ve got the quarterly projections ready for your review. And your schedule’s clear after 5 PM today—unless you want me to block something out?”
I stood up slowly, my cock already twitching in my slacks at the sight of her. The pink hair was new, vibrant, making her look even more fuckable than usual. I couldn’t resist. I rounded the desk in two strides, coming up behind her as she straightened up. My arms slid around her waist from behind, pulling her back against my chest. She gasped softly but melted into me immediately, her ass pressing back against the growing bulge in my pants. My hands roamed lower, cupping her plump, firm ass cheeks through the thin fabric of that tiny skirt, squeezing hard enough to feel the heat of her skin.
“Mmm, fuck, Jiheon,” I growled into her ear, my breath hot against her neck. “What’s the occasion with the hair? You look like a goddamn wet dream walking in here.”
She let out a soft, breathy laugh, tilting her head back to rest against my shoulder. Her pink locks tickled my cheek. “You like it? I felt like changing things up a bit. It’s my birthday, you know. Wanted to feel… fresh. For my favorite boss.”
Birthday. The word hit me like a spark to dry tinder. I kneaded her ass harder, one hand slipping under the hem of her skirt to trace the edge of her panties—lacy, barely there, already damp. “Birthday, huh?” I murmured, nipping at her earlobe. “Should I give you a gift right now? Bend you over this desk like old times and fuck you until you can’t walk straight?”
She whimpered, grinding back against me, but shook her head with a teasing smile. “No, sir. I want it after work. All of it. I want you to take me home and ruin me properly. Make it special.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, filthy and needy. “I’ve been wet thinking about it since I woke up.”
I groaned, spinning her around to face me. Her glasses had fogged slightly at the edges, those pink strands framing her flushed cheeks. I kissed her hard, tongue invading her mouth, tasting the strawberry lip gloss she favored. She moaned into it, hands fisting my shirt. “After work it is, then. But you’re gonna pay for teasing me all day in this outfit.”
The rest of the day was torture. Jiheon pranced around the office in that micro-skirt, bending over filing cabinets, crossing and uncrossing her legs at her desk right outside my door where I could see. Every time she caught my eye, she’d bite her lip or adjust her tie, the black fabric brushing between her tits. By 5 PM, my cock was aching, leaking pre-cum into my boxers.
The second the clock hit quitting time, I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the private elevator. “My place. Now.”
We barely made it through the door of my penthouse apartment before we were on each other. I kicked the door shut, pinning her against it, hands yanking at her shirt buttons. They popped open one by one, revealing her perfect tits spilling out of that black lace bra. Jiheon’s pink hair was already messy, strands sticking to her glossy lips as she gasped. She tore at my tie and shirt, nails scraping down my chest.
“Fuck me, boss,” she begged, voice raw. “I’ve been such a good little secretary all day. Reward me.”
I shoved her skirt up around her waist, ripping her panties down her thighs in one rough motion. They were soaked. I dropped to my knees right there in the foyer, burying my face between her legs. My tongue dragged through her slick folds, tasting her sweetness as she cried out, fingers tangling in my hair. “Oh god—yes, just like that!”
I devoured her pussy like a starving man, sucking her clit between my lips while two fingers plunged deep inside her tight heat. She came hard within minutes, thighs shaking around my head, pink hair whipping as she threw her head back. “I’m cumming—fuck!”
I stood up, wiping her juices from my chin, and scooped her into my arms. We stumbled to the bedroom, clothes flying off in a trail behind us. By the time I tossed her onto the king-sized bed, she was naked except for those glasses and the black tie still loosely around her neck. Her pink hair fanned out on the pillows like a halo. My cock was rock-hard, thick and veined, throbbing for her.
Jiheon crawled toward me on all fours, eyes locked on my dick. “Let me suck it first, sir. I want to taste you.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Her soft hands wrapped around my shaft, stroking slowly as her tongue flicked out to lap at the pre-cum beading at the tip. Those full red lips stretched wide around my cockhead, sliding down inch by inch until she gagged softly, glasses slipping down her nose. “Mmmph,” she hummed, the vibration sending shocks up my spine. She bobbed her head faster, pink hair swaying with every motion, saliva dripping down her chin and onto her tits. One hand cupped my balls, massaging them gently while the other pumped what she couldn’t fit in her throat.
“Fuck, Jiheon—you’re such a perfect little cocksucker,” I groaned, threading my fingers through her soft pink strands. I fucked her face gently at first, then harder, the wet gluck-gluck sounds filling the room. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she took it like a champ, hollowing her cheeks and swirling her tongue.
I felt my balls tighten. “Gonna cum, baby. Where do you want it?”
She pulled off with a pop, stroking me furiously, tongue out. “On my face, sir. Paint your secretary’s pretty face for her birthday.”
I roared as the orgasm hit, thick ropes of cum shooting across her glasses, her pink hair, her open mouth, and splattering her cheeks and tits. She looked wrecked—filthy and beautiful—cum dripping from her chin as she smiled up at me.
But she wasn’t done. Jiheon scooped some of my load off her tongue and swallowed it with a moan. “Mmm, so much cum for me. But I want more inside.”
I flipped her onto her back, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy glistened, puffy and ready. I rubbed my still-hard cock along her slit, teasing her clit. “You want this cock breeding you, don’t you? Filling that tight little cunt until you’re dripping.”
“Yes,” she whined, hips bucking. “Breed me, boss. I want to feel you deep.”
I slammed into her in one thrust, burying myself balls-deep in her velvet heat. She screamed, back arching, nails digging into my shoulders. I fucked her hard and fast, the bed creaking, her tits bouncing with every brutal snap of my hips. “So fucking tight—gripping me like you were made for this.”
We changed positions—her riding me reverse cowgirl, pink hair bouncing as she slammed down, ass cheeks rippling. I slapped her ass red, watching my cock disappear into her soaked pussy. Then doggy style, her face pressed into the pillows, ass up high while I railed her. “Harder—fuck me harder!”
I pulled out just long enough to flip her again, sliding back in missionary so I could watch her face. Her glasses were crooked, cum still streaked across them. “I’m gonna cum inside you, Jiheon. Fill you up until it leaks out.”
“Do it—creampie me!” she begged.
I exploded deep inside her, hot spurts painting her womb. She clenched around me, milking every drop as her own orgasm ripped through her, pussy fluttering wildly.
But the night was young. After a short breather, I had her on her knees again. This time, she deepthroated me clean, tasting her own juices mixed with mine. I face-fucked her until tears streamed down her cheeks, then pulled out to paint another facial—cum glazing her pink hair and lips. She swallowed what landed in her mouth, licking her lips. “More… I need more.”
I lubed up her tight asshole with her own cream and my spit, easing a finger in first, then two. Jiheon moaned like a whore, pushing back. “Anal? For my birthday? Yes, please—stretch me.”
I pressed my cock against her puckered hole and pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, until I was buried to the hilt in her ass. She was impossibly tight, hotter than her pussy. I fucked her ass with long, deep strokes, reaching around to rub her clit. “Taking my cock in your ass like such a good slut. You love being my personal fucktoy, don’t you?”
“Yes—fuck my ass harder!” she cried, glasses fogging completely now.
I pounded her relentlessly, the slap of skin on skin echoing. When I felt the edge again, I pulled out and flipped her, sliding back into her pussy for a second creampie. “Gonna breed this womb again. Knock you up one day, baby.”
She came screaming, and I flooded her once more, cum overflowing and dripping down her thighs.
We went two more rounds—her sucking me off in the shower, swallowing every drop of a massive load straight from the source, then bending over the bathroom counter for another anal creampie while I whispered filthy breeding promises in her ear. By the time we collapsed into bed around 2 AM, covered in sweat, cum, and each other’s marks, Jiheon was a wrecked, glowing mess. Her pink hair was tangled, body marked with hickeys and handprints, but she curled into my chest with a satisfied sigh.
Three weeks later, the office was quiet again. I was reviewing contracts when the door burst open.
Jiheon came running in, pink hair flying, that same short skirt swishing around her thighs. Her glasses were perched perfectly, but her face was lit up like Christmas morning. In her hand, she held a white plastic stick.
“Baby!” she squealed, slamming the door and locking it. “It’s positive—I’m pregnant!”
My heart stopped, then exploded. I stood up so fast my chair rolled back. “What?”
She practically vaulted over the desk, climbing into my lap and straddling me. I pulled her close, arms wrapping around her waist, kissing her deeply—slow and loving this time, not the frantic hunger from before. Her lips tasted like cherry lip balm, soft and eager. I cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as I pulled back to look at her.
“You’re serious?” I whispered, voice thick with emotion. My hand slid down to rest on her flat stomach. “We’re having a baby?”
Jiheon nodded, tears of joy sparkling behind her glasses. She held up the pregnancy test—two bright pink lines. “I took it this morning. Three weeks since that filthy night… and all those creampies you gave me.” She giggled, nuzzling my neck. “You really did breed me, baby. Best birthday present ever. I love you so much. I want to do this with you—build a life, raise our baby, keep being your secretary… and your everything.”
I hugged her tighter, kissing her forehead, her nose, her lips again and again. The office faded away. All that mattered was her—my pink-haired goddess, my lover, the mother of my child. “I love you too, Jiheon. More than anything. We’re gonna make this work. I’ll take care of you both. Fuck the world—this is our family now.”
She melted against me, hands in my hair as we kissed slowly, deeply, full of promise and fluff and forever. The pink strands of her hair tickled my face, and for the first time in my life, everything felt perfectly right.
The party was getting out of hand, but since it wasn't your house, you didn't really care. You were sure someone had thrown up in the downstairs bathroom, and you'd heard a bunch of plates breaking in the kitchen. So far, it had been a great party.
Well, if the downstairs bathroom was clogged, then you'd have to use the one upstairs. Unless you were going to pee in the yard, which you weren't going to do, you didn't see any other solution.
In the hallway, you ran into someone completely disoriented, asking where Saki was. You had no idea who this Saki was, but you were pretty sure that the girl in front of you was the one who had thrown up in the bathroom. She was completely drunk, staggering as she walked, and her words stumbling over each other when she tried to speak. Her long blonde hair was a mess, and her clothes were disheveled. For a moment you doubted that this Saki was real, but a second later you heard the stranger shout her name and run towards a pink-haired girl who was passed out near the entrance.
Hurrying your pace to avoid wetting yourself, you climbed the stairs to the second floor. Despite being a spacious house, it was quite simple. Just a straight hallway with a series of doors leading to each room. Fortunately, the host's family, whom you didn't even know, had taken the trouble to put a sign on each door indicating which room it led to. That nice touch helped you find the bathroom.
The door was ajar, so you figured no one was inside. You opened it fully and quickly closed it behind you. Footsteps reached you from the stairs, and not wanting to miss out on the bathroom, you rushed inside. The moment you closed the door, you heard someone make a noise of displeasure. For a second, you thought you'd were already drunk because it was impossible for the sound to be coming from inside. But no, your ears weren't deceiving you. There was a girl sitting on the toilet.
"Hey, what are you doing? Can't you see I'm using the bathroom?" the girl scolded you without moving from the toilet. Of course she was going to move, because she was clearly sitting there to use it. Her dress was hiked up and her panties were around her ankles, but the big leather jacket she was wearing prevented you from seeing anything. That, and the fact that her knees were together. Even though she was looking at you, you couldn't tell the color of her eyes because, for some reason, she was wearing sunglasses.
"Sorry," you blurted out, trying to look away.
"What are you doing? Idiot, close the door. Can't you see I'm peeing?" Her noisy scolding made you close the door again, the one you had opened to leave. You felt stupid standing there, unable to leave or even look at her.
"Are you embarrassed?" she inquired, the unmistakable sound of urine hitting the toilet bowl mingling with her words. "Haven't you ever seen anyone pee?"
That wasn't the issue. What bothered you was that you two were strangers. You'd walked in by mistake because she hadn't closed the door properly, and now you were stuck there until she finished. "I don't usually watch my friends pee, and we don't even know each other," you said, trying to distract yourself by looking at the wood grain pattern on the door.
"Is that your problem?" the girl scoffed, bursting into laughter. "My name is Kazuha, though everyone calls me Zuha."
You told her your name, still examining the door with more interest than anyone could ever have on a simple door. You didn't have a cool nickname like hers, so you preferred to keep quiet about what your friends called you.
"I'd rather call you a coward, or a scaredy-cat," she said, ignoring your name. "Because you're afraid to look at me."
"I'm not afraid," you said quickly. "It's just... why would I have to look at you?"
"To prove you're not afraid, duh!" she mocked.
"I told you that I'm not afraid," you said, raising your voice as you turned to face her, just as she insisted. When you turned, you found Zuha looking at you, her sunglasses having slipped down her nose, allowing you to see the color of her eyes. A soft brown that quickly captivated you with its depth. She frowned in an amused expression as the sound of urine returned. She was actually peeing while looking you in the eyes. "Aren't you ashamed?"
"Why? We all pee sometimes. It's natural. Do you have a lighter?" The question threw you off because it came out of nowhere, but you soon realized it was because she'd taken a cigarette from her jacket pocket.
You chose not to answer her question, the first of the two. Instead, you took the lighter out of your pocket and offered it to her, but she put the cigarette to her mouth and leaned toward you in a clear gesture that she wanted you to light it. Giving up, you went over to her to light the cigarette the way she wanted.
The bathroom was far from spacious, so the smell of smoke quickly filled the air. You were about to ask her for a cigarette, but decided it was better to wait until you left to smoke. Instead, you leaned against the door to keep watching her pee, because you had the feeling she'd scold you again if you tried to look away.
Kazuha stepped back, cigarette in mouth, to grab the toilet paper. Holding your gaze to make sure you weren't looking where you shouldn't this time, she wiped herself and threw the used paper in the trash. You couldn't help but notice how beautiful her eyes were. Her face was beautiful in general, but her eyes were what you liked most about what little you'd seen of her.
"Here," she said, offering you the cigarette with the same hand she'd used to wipe herself. You took it without hesitation, ignoring how unhygienic that must be. But you'd drunk quite a bit that night, so your system was probably full of alcohol, which would kill any germs.
You relaxed for a moment, taking a drag of the cigarette. You closed your eyes as you felt the smoke fill your lungs, pondering what you'd gotten yourself into. When you opened them, you found Zuha standing there, her underwear and dress where they belonged. Despite the jacket, you could see how the dress clung almost tightly to her curves.
Exhaling smoke through your nose, you moved to let her approach the sink. Without a word, Zuha lathered up her hands and washed them. After drying them on her dress, she snatched the cigarette from your mouth. There was no point in protesting; after all, it was hers, but you still would have preferred a bit more courtesy. Then she bent down to pick up a bottle of beer and brought it to her lips as she leaned against the bathroom door, but stopped just before it touched them. "Want some?" she asked, offering you the bottle. "Relax," she added, seeing your hesitation. "It's not what you think... Unless you are into that." She said with a broad smile before bringing the bottle to her lips and taking a sip.
"Hheeewww No!" You exclaimed when you understood what she meant. You weren't drunk enough to even consider doing that.
The two of you stood there for what seemed like an eternity, until she finished her cigarette and threw it in the toilet. "Well, are you going to pee or are we going to stay here forever?" she asked casually.
"What? Noooo!" You looked at her, backing away a little, as far as the cramped bathroom allowed. "Get out, I'm not going to do it with you here."
She laughed before answering. "You saw me pee, it's only fair that I see you. It's to even things out."
"But I saw you by accident, it's not the same."
"You saw me anyway, you scaredy-cat." She laughed at you. "Why so cowardly?"
"Why so insistent?" You fired back. "Are you a voyeur or something?"
"I already told you it's the fairest thing to do." She replied, nudging you by the shoulder to get you closer to the toilet. "Hurry up. Saki is waiting for me, and I don't trust Yunjin to look after her. If anything happens to her, it'll be your fault."
You were tempted to tell her that this Yunjin woman was probably indeed in no condition to care for anyone, and that it was already too late for Saki, but you decided that wasn't your problem. Accepting that the quickest way out of there was to do as she said, you stood in front of the toilet and pulled out your penis, making sure Zuha didn't see your private parts. Almost instantly, you felt a weakness in your legs; damn, you really needed to pee. Your bladder was about to burst, which helped you ignore the fact that Zuha hadn't flushed and you were urinating on her pee and cigarette butt.
The sound of urine hitting the polished surface of the toilet bowl and the water filling the small room. You really needed to empty your bladder; you'd had too much beer that night. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, forgetting everything as the urine flowed, as you released the insistent pressure on your bladder, until something startled you.
"What the hell?!" you exclaimed in surprise when you felt a chin rest on your shoulder and a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. "What are you fucking doing?" you asked, trying to free yourself from Zuha's embrace.
"I've always wanted to know what it feels like to pee standing up," she replied with a laugh as her hands encircled yours. That made you move even more, and you inevitably peed outside the toilet bowl. "Oops! Let me aim properly." To your complete disbelief, Zuha's hands snatched your penis away, grasping it and aiming it at the toilet bowl again. "Come on, pee." She added, noticing that nothing was coming out of your member anymore."
"You're sick, I'm not going to do it." You said, still trying unsuccessfully to free yourself from her grip. Maybe the fact that she was holding your cock so casually was draining your strength, or was it that you didn't want her to let you go?
"Whiny." She whispered in your ear. The closeness allowed you to smell alcohol and something else on her breath, maybe marijuana. But that closeness also let you smell the scent of her shampoo and the perfume she had applied many hours before but that was still present on her skin. It was all an intoxicating mixture. "Come on, don't be like that."
"Can you let go of me, please?" You asked as calmly as you could.
"Just pee and I'll let you go." She replied, moving your cock to undermine her point.
"Kazuha." Her name sounded strange when you said it. "Leave me alone." You sighed "I just want to pee."
"And I want to know what it feels like to pee standing up. We want the same thing." She pressed herself closer to you, making you acutely aware of how her breasts were pressed against your back. You desperately wished this was all a nightmare.
"But you're not gonna be the one actually peeing!" You were already starting to lose patience, but you couldn't see any way to break free from her grip.
"It's the same thing. Hurry up, I have to go."
"Aaaahhg." Fine." You finally gave in to her stupid request, or rather, demand. She simply let out a giggle that you interpreted as a gesture of triumph.
You took a deep breath, trying to relax as much as possible, trying to ignore the fact that a girl you had met just minutes before was holding your penis while you peed. But if you were going to do it, it was best to be calm, so you leaned your head back, resting it on her shoulder, while you pressed down on your bladder. You didn't see it, but you felt and heard the urine leaving your body and falling into the toilet, mixing with what she had done earlier. Before you knew it, your bladder was empty, but now Zuha was shaking your cock from side to side, apparently to dry it out.
This girl was unbelievable. Not only had she forced you to watch her pee, but she'd also forced you to pee in front of her, and, not content with that, she'd insisted on holding your cock while you did it. Right now, she was playfully teasing your cock, moving it like some kind of propeller or something. Add to that the fact that you'd met her less than half an hour ago, and the situation was hilarious.
"Are you a virgin?" she asked out of the blue, still holding your cock.
"What? No. Why did you—"
"You got hard." She interrupted. Only then did you realize that you did indeed have a semi-erect penis. Apparently, all that stupid play was catching up with you.
"Let me go!" you exclaimed, renewing your attempts to break free.
"Heeee! You like the feeling of my hand, don't you?" If everything that had happened up to this point seemed surreal, what came next felt like something out of the stupidest porn you'd ever seen. Without any shame, something Zuha apparently didn't know, she moved her hand over your cock to stimulate your member. Instantly, a shiver ran through your body and an inevitable sigh escaped your lips. "You are a virgin, aren't you?" she mocked as her hand explored your member.
"I'm not!"
"Yes, you are. That's why you were embarrassed to see me pee."
"Noooooo!!!" you exclaimed, somewhat angry but feeling the effects of what she was doing with her hands. "I know a lot about fucking, I've been with a lot of girls."
"I don't believe you. You're a cowardly, lying virgin."
"Fuck you." "You've really lost your mind, you're crazy."
"Do it yourself. If you know so much about fucking, then prove it." Just like that, Zuha let go of your cock and pulled away from you. Your pride was wounded as you immediately started to miss her hand on you.
"What the hell does that mean?" you asked, turning to face her. Only then did you notice how your cock was fully erect.
"Let's do it." She said, biting a nail as she looked at your member. She couldn't help but smile at what she was seeing.
"What do I get out of it?" you asked, ignoring how her hand had returned to your cock.
"My respect, and proof that you're not a scaredy-cat virgin."
"What good is your respect to me? We don't even know each other."
"Suit yourself." She shrugged to emphasize that it was your decision. "Do you think I'm ugly? Oh, I know." "You're gay!" she pointed out, moving her hand faster.
"Damn it, I curse the moment I walked into this bathroom!" you exclaimed, taking a step to corner Zuha between the door and your body. You were already fed up with her games and her teasing; in the short time since you'd met, Kazuha had already managed to push your patience to the limit.
You leaned forward, seeking her lips. She didn't pull away but came to meet you as well. Your mouths melted into a kiss that you both tried to control, but after a few seconds, it was clear she had won. Her tongue invaded your mouth along with the taste of tobacco and beer, as you pressed her against the door. Since she already had her hand on you, you decided it was only fair to do the same, so you gripped her thighs.
Her muscles were toned; the moment you touched them, you noticed how strong her legs were. She must have worked out a lot, and boy, did she ever. If it worked. Your restless hands moved up her body until they grasped the hem of her dress and lifted it with some difficulty because it clung to her skin. Now that her ass was free, you could grab it as you pleased. You held her buttocks with open hands, instantly feeling that they were as firm as her thighs but molded more easily to the insistence of your fingers.
After kneading her ass for a few moments, moments in which your lips never parted more than the millimeters necessary to breathe, you moved your hands to rub her crotch. Your fingers found her center, and even through her panties, you could feel the moisture forming there. You pressed your fingers against Zuha's folds and felt her moan into your mouth. Somehow, that healed the wound that her grip on your cock had left on your pride earlier.
While you caressed her pussy and felt her panties becoming wetter and wetter, she was furiously masturbating you. Her hand moved, squeezing your member, twisting her wrist as she approached the base to generate more friction. It was clear she was an expert at this sort of things.
Wanting to show off your skills and making it perfectly clear you were no virgin, you pulled away from her with difficulty. You knelt in front of Zuha and kissed the inside of her thigh, which made her tremble but also take matters into her own hands. You didn't have to do it yourself; she removed her panties and left them on the sink. You simply smiled because, although you were sure she'd never admit it, you weren't the only one who was hungry now.
Instead of slowly licking between her folds and taking your time as you would have with someone else, in another place and context, you threw yourself headlong into devouring her cunt. You grabbed Zuha by the ass and held on to her, burying your face between her legs. The intoxicating scent of her pussy filled your nostrils and made you salivate. You used that same saliva to help you devour her dripping wet cunt. You must have been doing something right because Kazuha's pussy was completely damp.
Unlike the taste of her mouth, the taste of Zuha's pussy was delicious and intoxicating. Her juices ran down your chin as you devoured her as voraciously as you could. Your tongue went as deep as it could to collect her sweet nectar, your lips sucking on her delicate clit, eliciting moans that she didn't bother trying to stifle except by biting the sleeve of her jacket. Your hands kneaded her buttocks with the same hunger that your lips battled against her petals. Just to see how far she would let you go, you ventured a mischievous finger between her buttocks to caress her back entrance. You withdrew it as soon as you applied a little pressure there because Zuha slapped you on the head, which you interpreted as her not wanting you playing with her ass like that.
To punish you for your audacity, she grabbed your hair and, using the door as leverage, ground her hips against you. You wouldn't normally let yourself be dominated like that, so blatantly, but Kazuha was devilishly hot and had your arousal levels through the roof. Her juices soaked your face completely as she rubbed herself against you, using you like some kind of toy. Surprisingly, you found that you didn't mind, not coming from her at least.
Panting heavily, Zuha released you. Your eyes met once more; those stupid sunglasses still partially hiding her eyes, but that didn't stop you from seeing the flame of lust burning in them.
Kazuha bit her lower lip as she lifted one leg. Your jaw almost dropped to the floor when you saw her raise her foot above her head and hold it with one hand, while using the other to part the lips of her pussy and reveal her throbbing entrance. It was an act that could only be interpreted as an invitation to fuck her. You didn't need anything more than that.
"You're full of surprises," you whispered, a smile spreading across your face. You stood up as if you had springs instead of legs. You found her lips, sharing a kiss and the nectar of her own cunt, while you rubbed the head of your cock against her entrance. Zuha rested her leg on your shoulder as you buried your member deep inside her.
The moans from both of you filled the small bathroom, mingling with the wet sound of skin against skin. You pressed Zuha against the door, partly to help her hold on and partly so you could thrust harder. Your cock ventured as far in as it would go, penetrating her to the hilt, but even then it wasn't enough. Your hands roamed her body, grabbing her ass, kneading her breasts through her dress, or simply tugging at her hair.
She clung to you even tighter, not just with her hands but with her cunt as well. Her wet walls closed around your member, embracing your cock in a warm embrace that seemed to squeeze your flesh. Your head thrust rampantly inside her, molding her body to the shape of your cock, while she received your thrusts with moans.
Having her like this, surrendered to you and to pleasure, felt wonderful. Your chest swelled with pride as you felt Zuha melt in your hands, as someone who until recently was a complete stranger moaned shamelessly into your mouth. You were making it perfectly clear to her that you weren't a virgin and that you knew how to fuck. The way her walls gripped your cock confirmed that you were winning this argument.
You thought about lifting her other leg, holding her up in the air, and fucking her against the door so she'd never forget what that stranger she called a virgin had made her feel, but you couldn't bring yourself to carry out your plan. Her cunt was delicious and addictive, its walls gripping you mercilessly, her moans muffled by your mouth were music to your ears. All of Kazuha was a delight straight from your wildest fantasies.
When you came, you did it resting your forehead against hers, looking into her eyes and moaning. Your throbbing cock shot semen inside her as she came too, spasming and moaning. Her cunt milked you, and you happily gave her all the cum you had, so happy to empty your balls into the hottest, wildest woman you'd ever known. Blessed be the moment you walked into that bathroom.
You carefully pulled away from her, reluctantly wanting to leave the scorching warmth of her hole and mouth. She finally placed both feet on the floor, still leaning her weight against the door. You sat on the toilet, trying to catch your breath. Though relatively brief, the whole thing had felt like running a marathon.
Kazuha smiled at you from the door before approaching you, taking your chin in her hand, and kissing you. This time, it was calmer and more controlled, but still charged with passion. More like what a couple would do, not two strangers in a bathroom that wasn't theirs. "So it turns out you did know how to fuck after all," she whispered against your lips. "You're no virgin," she declared before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Then she let go of you to adjust her dress and cover her private parts.
"Hey, do you think…" you dared to begin after a few moments of silence between you two. "Could you-" Why were you suddenly so nervous?
"What?" She asked while touching up her lipstick, looking in the mirror.
"I mean-"
"Hoooo! You want my number?" she asked, tilting her head. "Well, yeah, yeah, do you have a pen or paper?" She said, adjusting the neckline of her dress. "Yeah, it's…" You were rummaging through your pockets for your phone when you heard her say, "1-800-you fucking wish, did you get that?" An uncontrollable laugh erupted as she opened the bathroom door. "Call me, hahahaha," she added, blowing you a kiss and winking as she left the bathroom, leaving the door ajar behind her.
You just sat there trying to process what had just happened, with Kazuha's used panties forgotten on the sink as the only memento of this unlikely encounter.
A/N: I just saw all the Zuha content coming out yesterday and suddenly I had the urge to write her. That hot girl Zuha was too much to take, so much that I'm simpin on her instead of Yunjin that is my actual bias.
The kitchen smelled of bacon and coffee, the familiar morning hum of the house settling around Y/N as he sat at the table, picking at a plate of scrambled eggs. Sunlight streamed through the window above the sink, casting warm rectangles across the worn wooden floor. He was still half-dazed from the previous night—the taste of J's lips, the feel of her tongue, the way she'd stroked him until he'd almost come undone. He'd barely slept, replaying every moment, his cock twitching under the table just from the memory.
The soft padding of footsteps on the stairs pulled him from his reverie. He didn't look up, staring resolutely at his plate, but he knew it was her. The faint scent of jasmine and honey drifted into the room before she even reached the bottom step.
"Morning, step-bro," J's voice came from behind him, light and teasing.
Y/N grunted in response, his throat tight. He heard her approach, felt the shift in air, and then—her warm breath against his ear, the wet tip of her tongue sliding along the inner curve of his ear. A low, quiet moan vibrated from her throat, barely a whisper, but it sent a bolt of electricity straight to his groin. Her lips brushed his earlobe as she murmured, "Loved the practice last night. We should do it again. I know I can take all of you next time."
His cock hardened instantly, straining against his joggers. He gripped the fork so hard his knuckles went white, his face burning. J pulled back, her voice returning to its normal sweet tone as she circled the table and sat down opposite him, her lips curved in a smug smile.
Y/N couldn't look at her. He stared at his eggs, the yellow yolks suddenly looking obscene. He heard her pour herself a glass of orange juice, the clink of the pitcher against the glass. She hummed softly—a Stayc song, he realized with a jolt. Her song, the one he'd edited.
"Sleep well?" she asked, her tone innocent.
"Fine," he muttered.
The stairs creaked again, heavier this time. Jiheon's voice called out, "Smells good! Did Mom leave the bacon out?"
She walked into the kitchen, her hair still damp from a shower, wearing a bright red dotted blouse and a white short skirt. Her eyes flicked between Y/N and J, her brow furrowing slightly. She grabbed a plate and sat down next to J, across from Y/N.
"Morning," Jiheon said, spearing a piece of bacon. "You two are quiet."
"Just tired," J replied, her foot—bare, warm—finding Y/N's ankle under the table. He flinched, nearly knocking over his glass.
"Careful with those late night study sessions, J-ah." Jiheon added, her eyes narrowing. She looked at Y/N, who was still avoiding her gaze. "You okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
"Fine," Y/N repeated, his voice strangled.
The meal continued in a tense rhythm. Jiheon chatted about school, about a test she had, about her boyfriend who kept upseting her. J responded with polite interest, but her foot was moving. It slid up Y/N's calf, slow and deliberate, tracing the line of his shin. He tried to shift his leg away, but she followed, her toes curling against the fabric of his joggers. Higher. Her foot reached his knee, then his thigh, pressing gently into the muscle.
Y/N's breath hitched. He took a gulp of orange juice, the cold liquid doing nothing to cool the heat pooling in his groin. His cock was painfully hard now, pressing against the waistband of his joggers, a visible tent forming.
Jiheon's chatter faltered. She glanced at Y/N, then at J, who was smiling serenely, her foot still working. Jiheon's eyes dropped—just a flicker—to the table edge, then lower. She leaned slightly, peering under the table.
Y/N saw her expression shift. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Her jaw tightened. She looked at J, then back at Y/N, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"Something interesting down there?" Jiheon asked, her voice flat.
J's foot didn't stop. "Just stretching my legs. Cramps."
Jiheon's gaze burned into Y/N. He felt his face flush hotter. He wanted to disappear, to sink through the floor. But J's foot kept massaging his thigh, and his cock kept throbbing, and the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"Mom's working late tonight," Jiheon said, her tone suddenly cold. "She said we should order pizza."
"Great," J said, her foot sliding higher, brushing against the base of his erection. "I'm in the mood for something… filling."
Y/N nearly choked on his toast.
The school day was a blur of heat and distraction. The afternoon sun blazed through the classroom windows, and Y/N's mind was everywhere but on his lessons. The memory of J's mouth on his ear, the feel of her foot on his thigh, the way Jiheon's eyes had darkened with something that looked like jealousy—it all swirled together, making him hard again in the middle of history class. He had to adjust himself, praying no one noticed.
By the time the final bell rang, he was drenched in sweat. The air outside was thick and humid, the kind of heat that seeped through clothes and clung to skin. He walked home slowly, his bag heavy on his shoulder, his thoughts churning.
The house was quiet when he let himself in. The AC hummed, a welcome relief. He dropped his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes, heading straight for the stairs. A shower was the only thing on his mind—cold water, to wash away the sweat and the lingering tension.
He climbed the stairs, his steps heavy. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, steam curling out. He didn't think twice. He pushed it open, his eyes already on the toilet, his hand reaching for the light switch.
Then he saw it.
A pink bra, lacy and delicate, draped over the edge of the sink. The cups were padded, the straps thin. A pair of matching panties—tiny, barely there—lay crumpled on the floor beside a towel.
Y/N froze. His eyes followed the trail of clothing—a tank top, a pair of shorts—leading to the glass shower door. And through the fogged glass, a silhouette. Curves, wet skin, water streaming down.
The door slid open.
Jiheon stood there, naked, water beading on her shoulders, her breasts full and round, nipples dark and erect. Her hair was plastered to her face, her eyes wide with surprise—or feigned surprise.
"Oh, hey, step-bro," she said, her voice carrying over the sound of the shower. "I didn't know you came home early. Mind giving me a hand in here?"
Y/N's mouth went dry. His eyes locked on her body—the curve of her waist, the dark triangle between her legs, the way the water traced paths down her skin. He couldn't look away.
"Jiheon, so sorry," he stammered, his voice cracking. "I didn't even see you in there. I just had to use the bathroom asap."
He turned to flee, but her voice stopped him.
"Wait."
He didn't. He reached for the door handle, but it was already too late. Her hand—wet, warm—caught his wrist. She pulled him back, her strength surprising. He stumbled, his feet slipping on the damp tile.
"Don't be shy," she said, her voice low, husky. "You've been making edits of me and my unnies for months. J told me. Plus, i've seen the way you're looking at my ass when I bend over. I've seen the way you stare at J's boobs. You want to fuck us."
"I—" He couldn't form words.
She stepped closer, her body radiating heat. The water from the shower was still running, spraying mist into the air. She reached for the hem of his shirt, her fingers brushing his stomach.
"You're all sweaty," she said. "Come on. Let me help you clean up."
She pulled him forward, her hands firm on his chest, pushing him toward the shower. The warm spray hit him, soaking his shirt instantly. He gasped, the cold shock of the water mixing with the heat of her body.
"Jiheon, we shouldn't—"
"Shouldn't what?" She pulled his shirt up, over his head. It stuck to his skin, but she tugged it free, tossing it onto the bathroom floor. Her hands went to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. "You didn't seem to mind last night with J."
His eyes widened. "How did you—"
"I saw the way she was looking at you this morning. I saw her foot. And I saw the tent in your pants." She unbuttoned his jeans, pulling the zipper down. "I'm not stupid, Y/N. I know what's going on."
He wanted to deny it, but his body betrayed him. His cock was already hard, straining against his boxers. She noticed, her lips curling into a smile.
"Looks like you're ready for round two," she said, her voice dripping with mockery and desire.
She pushed his jeans down, his boxers following. His cock sprang free, standing tall, the tip already glistening with precum. She knelt in front of him, the water cascading over her shoulders, her breasts swaying with the movement.
"Fuck, you're big," she breathed, her hand wrapping around his shaft. "No wonder J was so eager."
She leaned forward, her tongue flicking out to taste the tip. He shuddered, his hands gripping the shower door frame for support. Her lips closed around him, sucking gently, drawing him into the wet heat of her mouth.
"Jiheon…" he groaned, his head falling back.
She took him deeper, her tongue swirling along the underside, her hand pumping the base. She moved with a rhythm that was practiced, hungry, her eyes looking up at him through the water. The steam swirled around them, the only sounds the hiss of the shower and the wet, obscene noises of her mouth working his cock.
"God, you taste good," she murmured, pulling off for a moment, her hand still stroking. "J didn't get to finish you, did she? I bet she was too scared."
He couldn't answer. His hips were moving, thrusting into her hand, into her mouth. She took him again, deeper this time, her throat relaxing as she swallowed him down. He felt the tip hit the back of her throat, felt her gag slightly, but she pushed through, taking him all the way.
Her hands moved to his balls, cupping them, squeezing gently. She bobbed her head, faster now, the water sluicing over her back. The pressure built in his groin, a coil of heat tightening, threatening to snap.
"I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice ragged.
She didn't pull away. She sucked harder, her hand working in tandem, her eyes locked on his. The sight of her—naked, kneeling, water streaming down her face, his cock buried in her mouth—was too much.
He came with a guttural cry, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into her mouth. She swallowed, her throat working, but some of it escaped, spilling over her lips and onto her chin. She pulled back, his cock sliding out with a wet pop, and looked up at him, a string of cum connecting her lips to his tip.
Then she stood, her body glistening. She cupped her breasts, pushing them together, and tilted her head.
"Now," she said, her voice low and commanding, "finish what you started. Cover me."
His cock was still hard, still aching. She reached down, stroking him once, twice, then aimed his tip at her chest. A few more drops of cum spilled out, but she wasn't satisfied.
"Again," she said, her hand working him faster. "I want to feel it."
He was sensitive, overstimulated, but the sight of her—her breasts, her smirk, the way she handled him—sent another wave of arousal through him. He groaned, his hips thrusting forward, and this time, a thick rope of cum shot out, landing on her left breast. Another, on her right. A third, splattering across her collarbone.
She watched, her eyes half-lidded, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. When he was done, her chest was painted white, the cum mixing with the water, sliding down her skin.
She looked up at him, her fingers tracing through the mess, bringing a drop to her lips. "Good boy," she whispered.
Y/N stood there, panting, his legs weak, his mind reeling. The water continued to fall, washing away the evidence, but the memory lingered. The tension. The heat. The two sisters, each claiming a piece of him.
Jiheon stepped closer, pressing her cum-slicked body against his, her arms wrapping around his neck. She kissed him, deep and slow, her tongue sliding against his. He tasted himself on her lips.
"Now," she said, pulling back, her eyes dark and hungry, "let's talk about what happens next."
"What do you mean next? This is already far enough. I can't believe i came in my step-sister's mouth and that you swallowed it all."
"I did, Y/N. And it was delicious. But we're not done yet. I need to feel you inside me."
"What??? No way we're doing that. I can't believe i let you convince me into doing this."
"Don't act like i forced you. I didn't see you trying to push me away, step-bro. I saw it in your eyes while i was sucking the life out of you. You want me. You want us. Badly."
"I can't keep doing this. I should have never let J talk me into this. I should have just let her tell her unnies about the edits and i would be free now."
"Maybe, but then you'd never get to watch Isa unnie's beautiful peach ass bounce from one side to the other" Jiheon says while her hand is massaging his right cheek. And i know how much you want Jisun unnie too. You watched her Waterbomb fancam 100 times. I could make that happen you know."
"You're lying. Why would she ever be interested in your step-brother?"
"Because she just ended things with her regular hook-up and she would be in dire need of some relief before our summer comeback. And i'd love to tell her all about your big, hardd cock. And all of the things you can do with it. All you have to do is show me first. Then i'll be more than happy to give you a glowing review to her."
Y/N leaned into Jiheon's body and pondered her proposal for a second, but then his thoughts kept drifting to his school crush, Ahyeon, and all of the fun times they had at the school's sci-fi club this summer.
He thought about the way her dark hair was tied up in a ponytail, making her look even more gorgeous. About her stunning white smile, her melodic laugh. He remembered the promise he made to himself muster up the courage and ask her to prom on Tuesday and how badly he wished he could kiss her right now, so he had to take a stand against his step-sisters and their constant teasing.
"I'm sorry noona, but i have someone i like and i don't want to ruin things with her before they even begin. Tell Jisun noona we'll always have those 2 am jerking sessions, but i'm gonna have to pass."
And he walked out the door and into his bedroom, while once more, leaving another step-sister half naked and unsatisfied.
Episodes out weekly!!!
The afternoon sun streamed through the living room windows, casting long golden rectangles across the hardwood floor. I'd barely stepped through the door when I froze, my keys still dangling in the lock, my jaw going slack at the scene unfolding before me.
There she was. Xiaoting. Tied to the wooden dining chair in the center of the room, her wrists bound behind her back with what looked like silk rope, a dark red scarf tied snugly over her eyes. Her legs were spread wide, ankles strapped to the chair legs, leaving her completely exposed. She was wearing nothing but a thin white tank top, soaked through with sweat and saliva, clinging to her curves like a second skin.
“Huh, huh, huh, huh-uh, huh…” Out of tune, ear torture, and drum-shattering hum. Who cares? It’s just you inside your car.
You’re driving in the middle of the night, singing together with your car’s audio system, enjoying the cool night after moving on. Your girlfriend broke up with you a month ago. The reason? Misunderstanding, she accused you of cheating, without knowing it’s your cousin.
“I know this much is true… OH SHIT!” You pressed the brake in an instant. Tire screeches, though you're moving slowly.
Speaking of your girlfriend, no, your ex-girlfriend. She just blocked your car, using her body as a barricade. You hit the brakes as fast as you can, and the harder you can.
“What the hell!!? She’s crazy… crazy beautiful…” Her jet-black hair turned into stunning pink. You found yourself falling in love again; what’s worse is that you just partially moved on from that heartbreak.
“Sir, get out of the car, please.” She tapped the hood of your auto three times. The first two knocks were fine, but the last one’s powerful enough to shake you.
“What does this girl want?” You unbuckled your seatbelt and were ready to face the woman who was once yours.
You opened the door.
“What do you— AW!” The moment you stepped your leg out, she shoved the door shut.
“Oops, sorry.” She quickly apologized, but I bet she didn’t mean it.
“What the hell do yo— OUCH! HEY, STOP IT!” You got your leg clamped by the door once again, the same thing she did a few seconds ago.
You stormed out of your car, standing face-to-face with her. You thought it was better to settle things out, forgot everything that happened, and act like strangers.
“...”
You got intimidated by her cold eyes. She’s definitely mad at you. Should’ve already thought about it when she attempted to cut your leg earlier.
“Uhhh, why?” You thought a lot of things to say, but that’s all the words left your mouth.
“You’re overspeeding.” She tilted her head, checking your auto. “No girl on the passenger seat this time, huh?” She scoffed, looking back at you furiously.
“W-what overspeeding!? And what girl? Seriously, Asa, that girl last time was my cousin! Her name’s Ruka.” You told her, swinging your head in confusion.
First of all, you were driving thirty, almost sightseeing. You’re singing your lungs out, and you don’t afford to lose your life since your heart just died a month ago due to your breakup. Second, she’s looking for Ruka, who is your cousin, the one she accused you of cheating with.
“I don’t care who she is or what’s her name, Luka? Ruba? I don’t fucking care. You cheated.” She poked your chest multiple times.
“You know what? Just forget about it. You won’t listen to me after all.” You open your car and think of just driving away, leaving her alone for good.
To your surprise, she opened the door for you. You thought maybe she had given it some consideration to mutually part ways.
“Thank you— AW!” She slammed the door shut one more time when half of your torso’s in.
“Oops, sorry.” She’s definitely not sorry. You should’ve thought about how suspicious it was to open your car door for you.
“Okay, what do you really want?” Your string of patience is starting to run out.
In a slight movement, you just feel a crack inside your body, you wonder if it’s a ruptured rib cage, or it’s just your heart telling you that it’s broken, and you have to do something to mend it.
“You overspeed, here’s your ticket.” She hands out tons of letters.
“What’s this? Huh? Surgery letter? Wait! You’re sick?” You’re on the verge of tears, an urge to cry all your regrets, you loved her, and yet you broke her heart in her last moments on earth.
“No, idiot.” She kicked your severed leg, which she pressed with your car’s door earlier.
“AW-UHHUH!” You really cried, not because of regrets, but because it hurts. She’s absolutely not getting a surgery; she’s as strong as Hercules.
“Read it.” She’s digging her toes into the ground.
“Okay, then why does it say surgery letter?” You tried to analyze what the letter said.
“...”
“It’s not even your surgery letter! Who’s Choom L. Choom?” That’s the name of the patient who needs surgery, the reason is that the person dislocated his/her hips from twerking. You don’t even know if it’s a guy or a girl.
But that’s not what's important right now. Asa keeps fidgeting; you can tell she’s nervous. You've known her for three years; she’s like that whenever she’s nervous.
There’s something in those letters that you need to decipher. So, you looked at all the letters she handed to you.
Surgery letter, for Choom L. Choom, who had dislocated hips from twerking.
Official letter of Guidance, for Ahyeon, who accidentally kicked her classmate when dancing. You wonder who Ahyeon is?
Report letter, for Pharita, for eating during working hours. And now you questioned who Pharita is?
Resignation letter, for Asa. You looked at her, confused. Is she resigning already?
Yearbook letter, you forgot to claim yours, maybe that’s it?
“Funeral letter? Wait—” You read it, but she snatched it before you even finished it. For a second, you thought your name was there, maybe just the wind.
“You… get it?” Asa’s swaying, like hanging clothes getting blown by the air.
“Get… wha– wait.” For a second thought, you did not want to disappoint her. So, you look at it once again.
“Right, it wasn’t part of it.” You remember she snatched it from you.
“Try again.” Now, she’s acting cute to you.
“Hmm, wait… sniff, sniff, you’re not drunk, are you?” You didn’t smell any signs of alcohol on her.
“Have you ever heard of the term punch-drunk?” Her cuteness suddenly turned into anger. You actually heard a crow in your mind, ready to flock and devour you once you’re dead.
“Yes, sorry, wait.” You get what she meant; it’s a warning sign.
“Sur…Off.. Rep…Res… Yea—” You got it.
The first letters are S-O-R-R-Y.
She wanted to say sorry, but you know her, she’s having a hard time expressing herself.
“Asa.” You called her name.
The moment you get what she meant, a tear drops from your eyes, droplets smeared over the letters. It’s the first time she did this; she made an effort to say sorry to you.
You still love her.
“Asa—” You looked up, and got a kiss on your cheek.
“Sorry…” Asa’s crying as well. “Sorry if I became unreasonable, if I judged too quickly, if I forgot who you really are.”
You can feel the sincerity in her words.
“Sorry, too…” You also felt sorry, blaming yourself for making this lovely woman cry.
“I love you.” She kissed your other cheek.
“I love you too.” You kissed her back, on her cheeks and on her lips.
It was all a misunderstanding.
“Let’s go, it’s cold.” You offered, she nods.
Both of you got into your car and drove happily.
…
…
…
“Where did you get those letters?” You asked her, eyes on the road.
“I just grabbed them, I don’t even know who they are.” She chuckled, realizing what she just did.
“Really? How about that funeral letter?” You’re laughing as well.
“It’s yours.” She answered.
“Huh?” Did you hear it wrong?
“Don’t worry, we’re good now!” She assured you.
…
As long as you love her, it’s fine.
“Hey, you kissed me on my cheeks earlier.” She said, giggling.
“You want to kiss my other cheek? Down there.” Asa asked you.
Tags : BFH, some pit stuff, just me gushing for her really because yeah
“Break time’s up! Come on, let’s go!”
“I can’t—no way!” you wheeze, sprawled on the floor. “My legs are on fire, I can’t…let’s just stop here.”
Nien shifts her jaw side-to-side, tilting her head as she looks over your leg. “Your legs are on fire, you say?”
“Yeah! It—”
“Got it!” she chirps, grabbing her water bottle and turning away.
Eh? That easy? No, she surely got something more in mind, this is Nien we’re talking about.
“Whoa.”
Though whatever that is can wait as you pull yourself up and watch her saunter over to the water dispenser. You are but a pig and Nien’s thighs are two juicy carrots, all out in their sweat-shined glory thanks to her tennis skirt.
Water bottle refilled, the main attraction shifts to her toned abs, flexing with every step towards you. You could be drooling right now, you wouldn't know. Not when it joins the river of sweat on your face, and all the space behind it is occupied by awe. In awe that she is somehow your girlfriend.
Nien’s amused giggle brings you back to her bright, full-faced smile; one of the few things that has the power to tear your eyes away from her body.
Smiling back at her, you extend your hand. But instead of handing you the bottle, she pours the contents all over your legs, cackling as you squirm in surprise.
“Ah! Huh—why…what was that for?”
“Tada!” Nien shakes out the last drips, setting the bottle aside. “Now your legs aren’t on fire anymore! I’ve put it out, heh.”
“The—what…really?” you chuckle, caught between amusement and frustration.
“Mhm! Now…” She claps her hands, leaning over with a determined expression. “One. More. Set. Come on, get up!”
You flop back to the floor, whining. “I can’t! It’s too—agh!” Nien yanks you up on your forearms, pushing you against a chest press.
“Baby. Listen to me.” Her voice is an octave lower, her usual sunny beam bringing along its blaze this time. “Are you actually injured?”
You gulp and peer down at your legs, wiggling them a tiny bit. “N–No.”
“Can you move them?”
More of a swing this time around. It’s difficult and makes you wince, but there seems to be a decent range of motion still. “Yes.”
Nien’s grip loosens slightly, holding your biceps rather than gripping them. “Do you want to make them stronger?”
You slowly nod, eyes warming up for some reason. “Y–Yes. Yes, I do.”
Her fiery gaze cools back down to a warm beam, her hands pushing aside the damp hair stuck to your forehead. “Then we do one more—you know what? Let’s just go for six reps this set. That’s it. Then we’re done.”
“Just six?” you croak, lighting up a bit.
“Yup! Just six.”
“Okay.” Your nods are firmer, more certain. “Let’s…let’s do this.”
“Attaboy,” she grins, tapping your shoulders and stepping aside. Letting out a long exhale, you grit and get back onto the leg curling machine, groaning loudly as you get in position.
“Ready?”
“Yup.”
“And go. Up! One.” Wow. Your hamstrings immediately protest, but you just about manage. “Up! Two.” You can’t let their protests drown out your desire though; another hefty pull. “Three!” Fuck, you’re real tempted to just let them win, unable to do this one without shaking.
“Four! Let’s go, you got it, babe!” So you’re shaking. As long as you move, that’s all that matters. “Don’t stop now, come on! Up! Five!” Oh jeez, no way you’re going all the wa—okay, just…maintain your form. Prioritize that. Just one more.
“And…up! Six!” Let’s. Fucking. Go! “Urghh! There! Wow! I did it! I d—”
“I didn’t say we’re done!” she spits, clapping her hands. “Up! Come on! Keep going!”
What the fuck? Didn’t we agree to six—oh, whatever. You’re in the flow of compliance, so you pull another rep, snarling the whole time as it’s the only way you’ll breathe properly.
“Seven! Good, one more!” You don’t know how you got here; your legs would be screaming on top of their lungs if they had a pair, your whole body is shaking, and yet. You grind towards another rep, your vocals matching the raised hurdle.
“Eight! Awesome! Just one more now, one more!”
“Oh my—honey! Nien! Please!” you wheeze, borderline sobbing. “I can’t—”
“Uh–uh! Don’t say that—don’t say anything! Just…try! Pull! Come on!” She leans in, closer to your head. “Up!”
“Urghh!” It feels impossible, sounds impossible, but you bite down hard and somehow thinly manage another rep, even if you only go half as far. “Nine! You’re doing great. One more, baby!”
Forget questioning it. This ends when she says it ends…or when you break. Whichever comes first. “Pfffff!” Try as you might, summon every molecule of reserve energy you have, you can’t do it. You bounce back weakly, not enough breath to verbally protest.
“Well done. Great job, baby,” Nien coos, helping you off the machine. You stumble and fall right into her arms, she lowers to the floor to accommodate.
“You said—” Your throat’s dry from all the panting, only airy wheezes until she hands you the water bottle that’s actually for drinking. “Shhh…slowly, baby. Well done, you’ve earned it.”
“You said we…we were only doing six!” you scowl, looking away from her to sulk. Nien chuckles and starts caressing your temple, lightly playing with your hair.
“And look how many you could actually do,” she whispers, holding up her fingers. “Nine—almost ten! Awesome, right?”
You look at her again, your pursed lips stretching into a half smile at the sight of her proud grin. “That was—” Heavy coughs cut you off, which she helps by tapping your back as you sit up.
“That was…” You look back at the machine, your half smirk growing into a full smile as your breathing levels off. “ …pretty awesome.”
“Hmph. Now you know. So don’t ever…” Nien pulls you in again, making you squeal as she lands multiple firm pecks on your cheek. “ …parrot that ‘I can’t’ bullshit again. Got it?”
“Got—got it! That—mmphh!” you barely get out before she goes for your lips next, and on this one you bounce back, sending her squealing and giggling to the floor.
“Is this your way of pampering me after all that?” you whisper before attacking her cheeks, which she wholeheartedly welcomes.
“Maybe? What, I can’t pamper my sweet man after all that? When he looks this cute?” she pouts, poking your nose and deploying her puppy dog eyes that you’ve yet to develop effective defenses for (and likely never will).
“Tsk. I never said that.” You dash a quick kiss at her lips before lying down next to her, letting your breaths and the gym’s ambient noises settle.
“That was pretty fucking intense though, not gonna lie,” you huff, rubbing your thighs.
“Well…” Nien turns over and throws her leg over you. “ …if we’re gonna raise your limits, we gotta push you to your current one. And you won’t do that if you don’t believe.”
“True,” you nod, grimacing to turn over so you can cup her cheeks. “And now thanks to you, I can.”
“Tsch. That was your hard work, you know. I just said some words.”
“And I wouldn’t have done shit without those words.”
“And you…” She pokes your nose with a ‘boop’ sound. “ …made the decision to listen to them. To ignore what you think and do what you can!”
“Hmph. You’re always so nice to me,” you puff, nuzzling in her shoulder.
“Because you’re not nicer to yourself!” she grumbles, ruffling your hair. “You’re much stronger than you think.”
“Heh. You really think so?”
“Mhm! I’m pretty sure I can prove it, even. Right now.”
You look up at her with a cocked eyebrow. “Oh? And how’s that?” That cheeky, mischievous smirk is back on her face, which you were about to entertain until you feel her slowly grind on your crotch, making you gasp.
“Honey?”
“Mmm…you looked really strong and manly back there. You were so hot…”
Those low, breathy words uttered through Nien’s cheeky expression makes your spine tingle, some heat pooling in your stomach as she continues to rock against you gently. “N–Nien…”
“See, you’ve still got some juice left, don’t you?” she purrs, shifting closer to your ear. “Wanna use it up on me?”
“Nngghhh…” You bite your lip and clutch her sleeve, your erection fully clocked in as it slides between her covered folds. “F–Fuck yeah!”
Nien chuckles and maintains her expression, though her eyes start to waver along with her airier voice. “Then we should hurry on home. But…” She reaches into your shorts, a sharp moan spilling as you flinch. “ …if you can carry me to the locker room, we’ll do it right now.”
“You…serious?”
“Yeah,” she replies breathlessly. “Walls are thick enough, shouldn’t wake the poor receptionist, hehe.”
“If it doesn’t work—” You shudder as she slowly rubs your leaking tip. “—we’ll be banned from here, won’t we?”
“So we find another gym. What’d I say about—ah…” Your hand slides down her exposed back to knead her ass. “Cheater. What’d I say about that attitude?”
“Right.”
“So?” She takes her hand out of your shorts only to suck on her fingers right in front of you. “Still feeling like you’re all spent?”
Your eyes scan the empty gym, landing on the entrance to the locker rooms. It’s a bit of a distance, not something you previously thought would be feasible.
“Hell no.” But you’re not the previous you. Not with Nien.
You clamber to stand up, trying to find a somewhat secure footing. Your legs expectedly wobble and threaten to buckle, but the thing between them has a much louder voice, so you listen to that.
As soon as you seem secure enough, Nien leaps into your arms, coming nerve-reckingly close to toppling you over. “You ready? Deal’s off if you drop me before you get in.”
“You bet.”
You begin the journey across the gym. Somehow, your leg’s strength returned, making the trip without too many hiccups. Though unlike Palpatine’s return, its reasoning is plentiful and sound.
For starters, there’s her lips and neck which your mouth seldom leaves, only pulling away to navigate between the machines lest any bumps waste your precious momentum. Then there’s her firm, yet supple asscheeks, filling out your palms and then some.
There’s the tightness in your shorts, its resident fiending to be reunited with her throbbing heat just behind the fabrics. Not to mention her scent; sweat, deodorant, perfume, makeup, detergent, everything. And then the sounds she makes into your mouth and ear; an addicting mix of giggles, whispers, and those delightful high-pitched moans of hers.
It’s just everything her, really. Everything Nien. Everything about this unfair combo of cute, sexy, heartfelt, dominating, supportive—you’d wear out a typewriter before you run out of ways to describe her. Not that it’s something you ever want to achieve, anyway.
The locker room door thuds against her back like an abrupt jumpcut back to reality, opened with a thrilled shudder from Nien. “Wow, you…you actually made it. I was right!”
Huh. You did. Where’d all that pain go—oh, here it is. “Of–of course I did. Who am I?” you flaunt, setting her down on the changing bench.
“Mmm…cocky, are we?”
“All thanks to you.” You pull away properly at last, dropping to your knees which puts you right in line with her glossy toned abs. You give just one glance at her for confirmation before you start feasting on them, licking up every surface inch you can manage without turning her over.
Nien maintains her cheeky, jovial demeanour, though larger and larger cracks seep through every time you make a close pass above her waistband. Satisfied with her abs, you drag your tongue flat, up from her belly button to just beneath her top.
She lets out an audible gasp, her jaws dropped as you pause with your nose nudged beneath her boobs.
“You’re p–pretty thirsty tonight, huh?”
“Well, it was quite the workout for me so…” You slide your fingers under her top and yank it upwards, freeing her tits. “ …forgive me for being famished.”
Nien’s laugh is cut off by your firm suck at her breast, humming onto the soft flesh. Only one of them though, the curtains need to be drawn for the full show to start. So you try to pull her top off all the way, your impatience only creating a hurdle.
“Here, let me do it.” Nien pulls it off with grace, tossing it onto the other end of the bench. Her hair got all ruffled as a result, and God it makes her look even hotter. You can’t resist taking a detour to her mouth again, lightly chewing on her lip as you pull away.
“You are so fucking hot.”
Yeah, just saying it in your head wasn’t enough. Especially as you’re reduced to low, breathy hums for the next few minutes, worshipping her collarbones, shoulders—all sweet appetisers before the first course.
“And you’re a buffet and a half.”
Starting with a different tit from the teaser. Your lips stretch to fill as much of your mouth with her, twiddling on her rock hard peaks. Longer, less restrained moans join her pants and squeaks, her palms pushing you into her while yours knead and squeeze the other breast.
Not to deprive said breast of your mouth, of course. You switch over and get more daring, lightly nibbling on her nipples with your teeth. Nien lets out a sharp moan, her fingers pulling on your hair by accident. “Ngghh, sorry!” she keens, massaging the offended spot on your scalp.
You finish up on her tits, giving each a farewell smooch before moving on…back up her body. Those tantalizing pits of hers. Never tried them before, worse times to give them a go.
It is without warning though, catching her off-guard as you nosedive into one.
“Oh! S–Sorry. I wanted to…does it feel bad?”
Nien looks you over in awe before shaking her head. “No, but…give me a heads up next time.”
“Gotcha. My bad.” Now the light is on and green, you get back to it. Dragging your nose along the bumpy, thinly shaven surface, your tongue close in tow. The new sensation overrides her usual restraints, her noises getting louder still.
“Gah! Mm…that—it, weird, but–but good weird. Keep going.”
And you do. Going for her other pit, giving it the same treatment. You weren’t particularly into this at first, just entertaining a curiosity. But it’s better than you thought. Will definitely return on occasion. Or on the regular, who knows?
What you are a regular for is coming up next though, hidden beneath her skirt. You’d prefer keeping them on if they were just open underneath, but alas there are integrated shorts.
You hook your fingers into the waistband and slowly peel them away, catching her panties along with it. At long last, there they are. Pink, swollen, and leaking like a broken tap thanks to your efforts.
“God, we are so fucked if someone walks in here right now,” she laughs breathlessly, peering at the door. Right, you’ve been so lost in her you forgot you’re doing all this in a public space at two in the morning.
“Ha. That’s the thrill of it. They’re welcome to join though, right?”
“Fuck no.” Nien lifts your chin with the toe of her shoe, all of the mischief gone from her eyes. “I’m not sharing you with anybody, you hear me? They should be privileged to watch.”
You swallow, lightly terrified and heavily aroused. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now eat me out already, thought you said you were famished?”
As true as that is, you don’t go straight for them, oh no. Even the bit of waist previously under her skirt gets attention, every drop of sweat lapped up by your ever so diligent tongue. “I also said you’re a buffet, so I’m enjoying every dish I can.”
About time for the main course. Your mouth works from the outside in, gliding closer and closer to her core. When you reach her outer folds, it’s like she shifts into a higher gear. Her entire body lurches, her back arches sharply, her thick thighs crushing your head.
Nien lets out her loudest moan of the evening yet, her hands scrambling for purchase on the edges of the bench. You have no such problems with how tight she’s locked you in, and you get to work.
And boy, is it worth the wait. It’s hard to exaggerate just how good she tastes as you slurp up her nectar with a dash of sweat. Keeping good health and diets definitely pay off, no matter how small the increments may be. Forget all those sugary sports drinks, you’ll take Nien over them any day of the week.
Feasting on her is barely a figure of speech. You suck, slurp, lick, prod your tongue—just short of actually gnawing on her flesh. But like any human sense, going at it for too long at once might make you numb to it. You can’t have that, can you?
So you do your best to shimmy out of her thighs, letting your fingers fill in for your mouth; they’re like package deals now, you can’t leave the other idle while one is getting action. Though as good as her hot, moist walls clenching around your fingers feel, it doesn’t quite match her flavour on your tongue.
Not to worry. Nien’s desperate babbles give it a run for its money as she unravels above you. Even better are the screams she lets out in between, now fully audible since your ears aren’t muffled. Yes, that’s something that still leaves you awestruck to this day. Just how much of a screamer Nien is once she’s in the zone. If someone outside couldn’t hear her before, they likely can at this point.
“Baby—babe—gnghhh! You—ahh! It…don’t stuh—don’t stop!” Oh, she’s getting close. Won’t be on your fingers though, no way. You pull them out to her dismay, which you pamper by offering said fingers to her. She takes them in straight away, not dissimilar to how you were with her body earlier.
While her mouth is busy upstairs, yours finish the job downstairs. Becoming more erratic, rubbing your whole face all around her slit, tripping breakpoints you didn’t know she had. And with her next scream bit down on your fingers, she shatters.
She was already leaking profusely and still a torrent blasts you in the face, half of it ending up everywhere but your mouth. You remedy that as soon as she loosens her legs enough, lapping up the wet trails down her inner thighs to just above her socks.
Honestly, you want to pull them off and indulge that extra toe-sucking goodness, but your dick’s waited long enough. You make your shorts scarce and kick it away, sharing a momentary soft kiss to let her get a taste and cool down.
Your next green signal? Nien’s hand reaching down to pump you, giggling as she rolls her thumbs on your slit. You groan and scoop her up again, stumbling towards the side of the room.
“You want it like this, babe?” she asks, hugging you tight as her back meets a locker.
“Yeah.” Lining yourself up, you take a deep breath. “Wanted to—ahh…” You slide into her slowly before slamming home, rattling all the lockers behind her. “Wanted to see about that…reserved strength theory.”
“Well, you—” Nien gasps, clutching your hair as you twitch inside her. “You watch yourself, alright? Don’t…force it if–if you can’t…mmhhh.”
“Eh, I'll manage. Trust.”
“Good.”
You thrust with a moderate heft, though at a slightly odd angle compared to usual thanks to your worked out legs. It works out just as well if not better though, rubbing against her entire clit. Soon enough her screams surface again, right next to your ear.
You match the decibels with your hertz, pounding the lights out of her and making an absolute racket of the lockers behind you, what with many of them having open doors. It’s loud and messy and likely breaks a good few laws, but you both are far beyond caring.
Your release starts gathering near the door so you stop, kissing her sloppily as you carry her back to the bench. “I…I wanna—urgh!” Your trembling legs give way at just the right time, planting her back on the stained bench. “I wanna cum on your abs, honey. Want…paint them white.”
Nien snickers, brushing your hair and kissing your nose. “Go ahead, baby. I’m your canvas,” she whispers, spreading her legs so you have room to pull out.
And you’re Bob Ross. Time for your own Liquid White—no, that’s the base. Plenty of that on her abs. You’re looking to get Titanium White on there, yes yes.
You aren’t done with her pussy quite yet though, better it than your hands. Rolling your hips slow and deep; the feeling is all that matters now. It always is, should be as another of her climax is on the horizon, her moans getting thinner.
Your mouth goes to hers so she can shriek into it, which she does seconds later. Her legs curve inwards, slightly trapping you in place. Shouldn’t be much of a problem though, you still have plenty of—
“Oh! Ahh, wait! Honey!”
The earlier tryst against the lockers used up your precious energy, making you burst the moment you start to pull out. Her pussy doesn’t waste a second, its spasms milking your cock. Feeling this, Nien fully wraps her legs around you, pressing you flush with her.
“Thought—mmm…thought you wanted to paint my abs?” she asks, half-chuckling half-moaning.
“It—my…I couldn’t—too much, I guess,” you squeak in response, emptying your last spurts into her. Ah, well. Her pussy’s still your favourite finish line, just wished you’d take a different route this time.
You shiver as you pull out, thick cloudy globules following your exit. You weakly chuckle at the sight, slumping to the floor next to her to catch your breath.
“Looks like you…” she pants, swiping a bit of your cum to taste it. “ …need some more training.”
“Yeah,” you nod, licking your lips. “Wait, you mean next week, right?”
“Of course, I’m not trying to kill you!” She exhales loudly and turns over, chin resting on her elbow. “Next week, core strength. We’ve barely started, baby. You’re gonna be so strong and healthy.”
You chuckle shyly, leaning in to kiss her, brushing aside damp hair. “I’ll trust you fully with this, honey.”
“Mhm! And you gotta believe in yourself, remember that.” Nien groans and sits back up, looking around the now humid, warm space. “Let’s clean up and go home. I’d fancy not being banned from here, it’s really nice.”
“Yeah. There’s no—oh! Wow!” You wobble like an air dancer upon trying to stand up, landing back down on the bench. “Honey, can you drive us home? There’s no way I’m…whoa.”
Nien laughs and sits behind you, giving a quick back massage. “Of course, baby. I was gonna do that anyways,” she coos, pecking your ear.
You let out satisfied sighs at her massage, slowly melting back into her arms. She nuzzles in your shoulder, gently rocking side-to-side.
“Thank you, honey.”
“No problem.”
“No, I mean…thank you.” You open your eyes and face her. “For not giving up on me. For doing everything you could to keep me going. Thank you.”
Nien smiles and kisses your forehead, hugging you. “Of course. We promised, remember?” she whispers, tapping your back softly. “But thank me properly when you can beat me in arms wrestling!”
“Mm…so, never? Heat death of the universe, perhaps?”
She pulls back and glares at you, clicking her tongue. “Babe?”
“I’m kidding! Attitude, belief, yes! I’ll beat you fair and square—heck, I’ll beat you in everything, watch.”
Nien cringes and tilts her head, humming. “Eh…not everything, no way. But I like that! Mind and body gotta work together.”
“For s—” A loud thud in the distance interrupts you. It takes a few to register what it was, but then it’s clear as day. “Shit! The front door. Someone’s actually here!”
You both snicker like hyenas as you scramble to dress up and wipe away any remaining evidence. You barely make it; walking out the door just as the newly arrived patron gets to it. No time to ponder about the look he gave you, you’re free! Frolicking into the night—well, Nien is. You’re hobbling like a zombie behind her, though equally joyous. Leg day turned out a helluva lot better than you expected.
Anna was the kind of student who naturally drew attention wherever she went. With her graceful presence, expressive cat-like eyes, long dark hair, and effortless elegance, she carried herself with a quiet confidence that made people admire her without even trying. Despite her popularity on campus, Anna had never been interested in romance—until the first day she stepped into your history lecture. The moment you began speaking with calm authority and genuine passion for the past, something inside her changed. It wasn't a passing crush; it was love at first sight, and from that day forward, her heart belonged to you.
Every lecture became the highlight of her week. She always arrived early, choosing a seat where she could watch you explain centuries of history with infectious enthusiasm. While the other students hurried to leave after class, Anna often lingered behind, pretending to organize her notes just to hear you answer a few extra questions. She admired not only your intelligence but also your kindness, patience, and the quiet warmth you showed to every student equally.
"But wouldn't the logistics of the supply chain have made that specific treaty impossible to maintain?" Anna asked, her voice cutting through the end-of-class chatter with a calculated clarity. She wasn't looking at the textbook; she was looking directly at you, her chin tilted just enough to catch the light.
You paused, capping your marker and glancing at the slide. A small, appreciative smile tugged at your lips. "Now, that is a genuinely good question, Anna. Most people overlook the maritime constraints of the sixteenth century." You stepped closer to her desk, leaning in slightly to point out a map detail, oblivious to the way her breath hitched or the way her fingers tightened around the edge of her notebook.
For Anna, those few seconds of focused attention were the only currency that mattered. She didn't need the validation of the other students who were already halfway out the door; she only wanted the specific, scholarly approval that lived in your eyes. As you explained the nuance of the trade routes, she nodded along, though her mind had drifted from the history of spice trades to the way your voice softened when you were thinking deeply.
The following weeks became a choreographed dance of academic curiosity. Anna began spending her weekends in the archives, digging up obscure citations and primary sources that she knew would pique your interest. She didn't just want to be a good student; she wanted to be the only student who could challenge you, creating a private intellectual dialogue between the two of you that felt, to her, like a shared secret. These exchanges were the highlights of her day, a series of small, earned victories that kept her coming back to the front row of your lecture hall.
However, the reality of your life was a constant, silent presence in the room. It was the gold band that caught the light whenever you gestured toward the whiteboard, and the framed photograph of your spouse that sat modestly on the corner of your desk. Whenever Anna caught a glimpse of it, a sharp, familiar ache settled in her chest—a feeling of jealousy toward a person she barely knew, but a recognition of the boundary that stood between her and the life she imagined with you.
"The archives are technically closed on Tuesdays, but the curator is a friend of mine who owes me a favor involving a very rare map of the Levant," you mentioned casually, glancing up from your notes as Anna approached your desk.
She didn't flinch at the mention of the rule-breaking; instead, she leaned in, her expression one of delighted curiosity. Over the next few weeks, these "extracurricular" research trips became a ritual. What started as a quest for primary sources on the Mediterranean trade morphed into a series of long, wandering conversations that drifted far from the sixteenth century. Anna had developed a talent for the conversational pivot—starting with a question about your academic influences and sliding, with a seamless grace, into questions about your favorite childhood memories or the books you read for pleasure when you weren't grading papers.
"You have a very specific way of describing the architecture of the Renaissance," she remarked one rainy Tuesday, her voice barely a whisper in the hushed atmosphere of the library. "It's so romanticized. I wonder if you've always viewed the world through that lens, or if someone specific encouraged that side of you?"
The question was a probe, a gentle fingertip testing the boundary of your professional perimeter. She wasn't asking about your thesis anymore; she was asking about the architecture of your heart. You found yourself smiling, the kind of genuine, warm expression you usually reserved for your inner circle. "My grandmother was a painter," you replied, pausing to consider the question. "She taught me that the beauty of a building isn't in the stone, but in the light that hits it at four in the afternoon."
Anna lingered on that image, her gaze shifting from the ancient manuscripts to the way the dim library light caught the gold band on your finger. "You're very patient with people," she noted, her tone shifting to something softer, more intimate. "I imagine that's why your home is such a peaceful place. Do you find that the quiet of your private life helps you handle the chaos of the university?"
"It’s a necessary sanctuary," you replied, your voice echoing slightly in the vaulted silence of the archives. You didn't move away, but you did shift your weight, subconsciously creating a fraction of distance that Anna felt like a physical wall. "Between the faculty meetings and the undergraduate crises, having a place where the world just stops is the only way to stay sane. My spouse is the anchor for that. They have this incredible ability to make the rest of the world feel like background noise."
Anna nodded, her expression a mask of polite interest, though the word *anchor* felt like a weight pulling her under. She had spent months meticulously crafting a version of herself that was indispensable to you—the brilliant pupil, the intellectual peer, the only person who truly understood your passion for the Levant. Hearing you speak of your home life with such effortless contentment was a reminder that there was a whole dimension of your existence where she didn't even exist as a footnote.
"Do you think the peonies are too cliché, or is there a timelessness to them that I'm overlooking?"
The text arrived on a Thursday afternoon, punctuating a lecture on the Fall of Constantinople. You didn't have to look at the contact name to know it was Anna; she had a way of phrasing things that made even a question about floristry feel like a thesis defense. The exchange of phone numbers had happened organically a month prior, born from the logistical necessity of coordinating archive hours, but it had quickly evolved into a digital tether. Anna had become a constant, gentle hum in the periphery of your day, a stream of consciousness that flowed from complex historical queries to the mundane frustrations of her dormitory life.
For Anna, the shift was a strategic victory. She had transitioned from the front row of a lecture hall to the palm of your hand. She began sharing the small, jagged edges of her day—the frustration of a broken coffee machine, the anxiety of a looming deadline, the way a certain song made her feel inexplicably lonely. By offering these fragments of her vulnerability, she had carved out a space for herself as more than just a star pupil. She was becoming a confidante, a sounding board, a presence you relied on for a different kind of intellectual stimulation—one that was personal and immediate.
You, in turn, found her perspective refreshing. There was a youthful, unfiltered honesty to her taste that you sometimes felt you had lost in the sterilized environment of academia. When you were planning your anniversary or searching for a birthday gift that wouldn't feel repetitive, you found yourself typing her name into your messages. It felt innocent, a mentorship that had expanded into a friendship. You trusted her eye for beauty and her instinct for the poetic, never realizing that every time you asked for her help in surprising your spouse, you were handing her a map of the very love she wished she could replace.
One evening, the conversation shifted from the domestic to the existential. Anna had sent a photo of a rain-streaked window, followed by a message: Everything feels so temporary today. Does that ever happen to you? The feeling that you're just a guest in your own life?
"You're thinking too much again," you replied, leaning back in your office chair as the blue light of the screen illuminated the deepening shadows of the room. It was a gentle rebuke, the kind of playful nudge that had become the baseline of your digital shorthand. "The rain has a way of making the world feel like a melancholy novel, but remember that even the most temporary storms eventually run out of water."
Anna didn't reply immediately. The three dots of her typing indicator appeared, vanished, and reappeared several times, as if she were editing a confession in real-time. When the message finally arrived, it was shorter, stripped of its poetic armor: What happens when the storm is the only thing that makes you feel alive ?
The weight of the question hung in the air, vibrating with an intensity that felt slightly too heavy for a Thursday night. You paused, your thumb hovering over the screen. For a moment, the professional distance you maintained—that invisible line between professor and pupil—felt dangerously thin. You recognized that specific brand of collegiate angst, the yearning for something profound and unattainable, but with Anna, it always felt more focused, more intentional.
"I don't care if she's a prodigy. I don't care if she's the next great historian of our generation."
The voice didn't come from a lecture hall or a quiet archive; it came from the kitchen, sharp enough to slice through the comfortable silence of the evening. Your wife, wasn't screaming—not yet—but her voice had reached that vibrating frequency that signaled a total collapse of patience. She was standing by the counter, your phone lying face-up between you, the screen still glowing with a notification from Anna about a particular translation of Petrarch. For months, youe wife had played the part of the supportive partner, smiling when you mentioned Anna’s brilliance, but the small things had been accumulating like sediment. The way you checked your phone during dinner, the way your face lit up when mentioning a "breakthrough" in the archives, and the subtle, pervasive presence of a young woman who seemed to occupy every spare thought you had.
The explosion happened over something trivial—a misplaced comment about Anna's "incredible intuition"—but it was the catalyst for everything. your wife finally let it all out, her frustration spilling over in a torrent of words that left you breathless. She wasn't accusing you of an affair in the physical sense, but she was accusing you of an emotional migration. She spoke of the loneliness she felt even while sitting next to you, the sense that you were mentally drifting toward a version of yourself that only existed when you were talking to Anna. The anger was raw, born from a place of deep insecurity and a love that felt threatened by a ghost.
The silence that followed her outburst was deafening. You looked at your wife—really looked at her—and saw the genuine hurt behind the anger. The realization hit you with the force of a physical blow: in your quest to nurture a student's mind, you had neglected the heart of your home. The academic thrill of being admired by someone like Anna had blinded you to the slow erosion of the sanctuary you had once described as your anchor.
You didn't defend yourself. There were no arguments to be made about "professional mentorship" or "intellectual kinship" that could outweigh the tears now shimmering in your wife's eyes. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your voice cracking as you began to apologize. You begged for her forgiveness, your words tumbling out in a desperate rush, asking for *merci*—for mercy—on the only relationship that truly mattered. You held her hands, ignoring her initial attempts to pull away, and promised her that the boundaries would be rebuilt, stronger and more rigid than before.
"The syllabus is the law of the land, Anna. Please refer to the rubric for the grading criteria."
The words felt like cold stones being dropped into a well. You didn't look up from your desk as she stood there, her presence a fragrant, silent plea that used to make you smile. Now, it felt like a liability. You kept your gaze fixed on the stack of essays, the red pen in your hand acting as a barrier between your world and hers. The warmth that had once colored your interactions—the shared jokes about the Levant, the playful nudges about her overthinking—had been systematically replaced by a sterile, professional courtesy. You weren't being unkind; you were being a professor. And for Anna, that was the cruelest thing you could possibly be.
The digital tether was the first thing to snap. For weeks, the steady hum of her messages had been the background noise of your life, but now, the notifications sat unread for hours, then days. When you did reply, the poetic flourishes were gone. Her existential questions about the temporary nature of storms were met with concise, academic answers. *“It’s a common theme in Romanticism; perhaps you could explore that in your next paper,”* you wrote, effectively killing the intimacy of the conversation and relocating it to a grade book. You could almost feel her confusion through the screen, the way she must have stared at the blue bubbles, wondering which version of you had suddenly decided to vanish.
In the lecture hall, the choreography changed. You no longer lingered by her desk to discuss the nuances of maritime constraints. Instead, you began ending your classes with a brisk, "That's all for today," and moved toward the door before the first student could even stand up. You stopped catching her eye during your more passionate tangents. When she would raise her hand, her expression a mixture of hope and desperation, you would call on someone else—someone who didn't make your heart race with a mixture of guilt and nostalgia. You treated her like any other name on a roster, a tactical erasure that left her drifting in the periphery of your attention.
Anna didn't handle the silence with her usual grace. The quiet confidence she had carried since the first day of class began to fray at the edges. She still arrived early, but she no longer sat in the front row; she moved back, as if trying to gauge the exact distance at which you stopped noticing her. Her questions became shorter, stripped of their intellectual playfulness, and her gaze, once an invitation, became a haunting search for a sign that she still mattered. She began to linger even longer after class, her notebooks clutched to her chest like a shield, waiting for a moment of softness that never came.
Anna had stopped trying to win your heart through the archives; instead, she had decided to wage a war of attrition against your composure. She arrived at the lecture today wearing a white ribbed tank top that left very little to the imagination and a denim mini-skirt that seemed more suited for a beach club than a windowless history hall. She didn't sit in the back anymore. She had reclaimed the front row, leaning forward with her elbows on the desk, her chin resting in her palms, watching you with a predatory intensity. She knew exactly why you were staring at the whiteboard, your eyes fixed on a sentence about the Ottoman Empire as if it were the most fascinating piece of prose ever written. She could feel your avoidance, and to her, that tension was a different, more electric kind of intimacy.
I lock onto her the second she steps off the escalator. That stupid “I ♥ HOME” hoodie—like she’s advertising how fucking naive she is. The ponytail bounces with every step, that doll hair tie mocking me, begging to be yanked. I blend into the crowd, keeping just enough distance. She stops at a kiosk selling phone charms, fingers tracing over cheap plastic. I’m already hard.
She moves deeper into the mall, past a food court where the smell of grease makes my stomach churn. I watch her from behind a pillar as she checks her phone, oblivious. The fabric of those striped shorts hugs her ass just right. My cock twitches. Soon.
She takes a detour toward the less crowded wing—the one with the overpriced furniture store and the hallway to employee-only areas. Stupid girl. Doesn’t she know malls are built like traps? Dead ends everywhere. I quicken my pace, closing the gap.
“Excuse me.” My voice is calm, friendly. She turns, a polite smile already forming. “I think you dropped this?” I hold out a dummy earring I palmed earlier.
Her brow furrows. “Oh, I don’t think that’s mine… but thanks.” She’s too trusting. I step closer, into her space.
“Are you sure? Bang Jeemin?” I let her name slide off my tongue like candy. Her eyes widen.
“How do you know my name?”
My hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist. “I know everything about you, baby. Every post. Every photo. Every place you like to shop.” I twist her arm behind her back and shove her toward the employee hallway. The door swings shut behind us.
She struggles, but I’m bigger. I slam her against the concrete wall, my forearm across her throat. “Scream and I’ll break your jaw. Nod if you understand.” She nods, tears welling.
I shove my hand under her hoodie, pinching her nipple through her bra. She gasps, and I squeeze harder. “Been dreaming about these tits. Fucking perfect.” I pull her bra down, exposing her. I lean in and bite her nipple—hard. She whimpers.
“Shh, shh. You love this. You just don’t know it yet.” My fingers slide down, hiking her shorts up. I shove my hand inside her panties. She’s already wet. Traitor body. I push two fingers into her pussy without warning. Her back arches, a choked sob escaping.
“That’s it. Take it.” I pump into her, my thumb circling her clit. Her legs start shaking. I add a third finger, stretching her. “Gonna cum for me? Yeah, you are.” She convulses, first orgasm ripping through her. I don’t stop. I pull out and shove those same fingers into her mouth. She gags.
“Taste yourself.” I hold her jaw, forcing her to suck. Then I yank her shorts down fully, spin her around, and bend her over my knee. My palm comes down on her bare ass—crack. A red handprint blooms. Crack, crack. She’s sobbing now, but I don’t care. My fingers find her asshole, pushing in dry. She screams into her own hand.
I pull her up and throw her onto a stacked display of cardboard boxes. She lands on her back. I’m on her in seconds, ripping my jeans open. My cock springs out, thick and leaking. I line up with her cunt and slam in. No foreplay. No mercy.
Her mouth opens in a silent scream. I grab her throat and squeeze. “Look at me. Look at who’s fucking you.” Her vision blurs. I thrust harder, deeper, the sound of wet skin filling the hallway. I wrap her legs over my shoulders—missionary. Then I lift her, still inside her, carrying her as I walk. She bobs on my cock with every step, half-conscious.
I lower her onto a loading dock bench, flipping her onto her stomach. Full nelson—I hook my arms under hers, locking behind her head, fucking up into her from below. Her legs dangle, shaking violently. I shift again, lifting her legs up by her ankles—piledriver. Her ass is in the air, her head on the floor. Gravity forces me deeper. She gurgles.
Second orgasm hits her, then third—I feel her clench and pulse around me. Her eyes roll back. I don’t stop. I slap her face. “Stay with me. You’re gonna take every drop.”
I pound into her until I feel my own release building. I pull out just long enough to shove my fingers back into her pussy, then inside her ass, then back to her pussy—multitasking her holes. She’s a mess. Drool, tears, cum leaking out of her.
I flip her onto her back one last time, mount her, and fuck her raw until I’m spilling deep inside her. “Breed you. Fucking breed you full.” I press my weight down, my hand back on her throat. I squeeze until her struggling stops, until she goes limp.
I check her pulse. Still there. Good.
I pull a heavy-duty body bag from my backpack—I came prepared. I roll her inside, zip it up to her neck. Her head lolls, unconscious. I drag her out the service exit, into the parking garage.
But I’m not done. Not yet. I want her seen.
I drive her to the rooftop of a nearby abandoned building. I set up a chair, tie her to it, hogtied—wrists bound to ankles behind her back. Her hoodie is pulled up, shorts gone. Just her bra and panties, torn. I position her facing the skyline. A display.
I take photos. Then I wait for her to wake up.
I watch her eyelids flutter. The drug is wearing off, but she's still groggy, still trying to piece together what happened. Her wrists strain against the zip ties binding her ankles to her wrists behind the chair. The position forces her chest forward, her tits spilling out of the torn bra. A strand of drool hangs from her lips.
I step into her line of sight. Her eyes focus, then widen with horror. She tries to scream, but her throat is raw—only a raspy croak comes out.
"Welcome back, baby girl."
I circle behind her. My hand grabs her ponytail, yanking her head back. I press my cock against her cheek, slapping it across her face. "You missed the first round. But don't worry. I saved the best for last."
I walk to the front of the chair, grab her jaw, and force my cock past her lips. She gags instantly, tears streaming. I don't slow down. I fuck her throat, her nose pressed against my pelvis, her muffled chokes filling the empty rooftop. I hold her there until she starts turning blue, then pull out just enough for her to gasp air before shoving back in.
"No swallowing," I growl, pulling out fully. I stroke myself over her face, painting her cheeks, her forehead, her closed eyes with ropes of cum. She sputters, some of it dripping into her mouth anyway.
I wipe my cock on her hair and walk away. Leave her there, blind and sticky, for ten minutes. The sun is setting. The city lights flicker on below us. No one can see us up here. No one hears her pathetic whimpers.
I come back with a length of rope. I cut the zip ties and force her onto her hands and knees on the gravel roof. The sharp stones dig into her palms. I tie her wrists together, then loop the rope around her ankles, pulling them back until her feet are bound to her wrists—arched back, her cunt exposed to the sky.
I kneel behind her and spread her ass cheeks. I spit on her asshole, then shove my thumb in without warning. She screams, full-throated this time. I work my thumb in and out, then add a second finger, stretching her. Her whole body trembles.
"Never had anything in here, have you? Fucking tight." I pull my fingers out and replace them with my cock. I press the head against her asshole and push. She screams again, her body trying to buck away, but the ropes hold her in place. I force my way in inch by inch, feeling her sphincter fight me, then give.
"Fuck, yes." I grab her hips and start fucking her ass. Slow at first, then faster, harder. The sound of my pelvis slapping against her is obscene. She's crying, drooling onto the gravel. I reach around and find her clit, rubbing rough circles while I pound into her ass.
Her legs start shaking. That traitor body of hers responding again. "Yeah, cum on my cock. Cum from getting your asshole destroyed." She does—a violent, shuddering orgasm that makes her go limp. I keep fucking her through it.
I pull out and flip her onto her back. She's barely conscious. I lift her legs onto my shoulders and line up with her pussy, still slick with my cum from earlier. I slam in. She gags, a broken sound. I grab her throat with both hands this time and squeeze.
"What's my name?" I hiss.
She can't answer. Her eyes are rolling back. I squeeze harder, feeling her windpipe compress under my thumbs. Her hands flutter weakly against my wrists. I fuck her faster, deeper, wilder—her body convulsing beneath me. I release her throat just long enough for a breath, then clamp down again.
I feel her pussy clamp around me—unconscious orgasm. Her body keeps milking me even as she slips away. I roar and empty myself into her, pumping load after load deep into her womb.
I fall forward, catching myself on my elbows, breathing hard. She's out cold. Again.
I sit back and look at her. Bruises forming on her neck. Cum leaking out of both holes. Her doll hair tie still intact, the plastic doll face smiling up at the sky.
I pull her body off the chair and drag her to the edge of the rooftop. Below, the parking lot of a convenience store. I can see people walking in and out.
I pull out my phone and dial 911, muffling my voice with my hand.
"Some girl on the rooftop of the old Meridian Building. Looks like she's been attacked. Hurry."
I hang up. I won't be here when they arrive. But I'll be watching from the crowd. I always do.
I drag her back from the edge, just enough so she'll be found but not seen from the street. I untie her wrists, leave her spread-eagled on the gravel, naked, cum-covered, unconscious.
I take one last picture of her lying in the sunset. Then I disappear down the fire escape.
While cooking dinner for the two of you, your girlfriend Arin sneaks into the kitchen and starts teasing you until the meal is completely forgotten. What begins as playful flirting turns into a hot, loving kitchen sex session filled with her sweet touches and intense pleasure.
-
The aroma of garlic and herbs filled the kitchen as I stirred the sauce on the stove. I’d been looking forward to this all day — a quiet evening at home with Arin, just the two of us. She had a rare day off from her schedule with Oh My Girl, and I wanted to spoil her with one of her favorite pasta dishes. As her boyfriend of almost a year, these simple nights together meant everything.
I was focused on the pan when I heard soft footsteps behind me. Before I could turn around, Arin’s arms wrapped around my waist from behind, her cheek pressing against my back.
“Smells delicious,” she murmured, voice warm and playful. “But I think I’m hungrier for something else.”
Arin was twenty-seven now, with that bright, adorable smile and a body that never failed to make my heart race. She was still in her comfy home clothes — an oversized t-shirt and tiny shorts that showed off her toned dancer legs. She pressed closer, her breasts soft against my back as her hands wandered over my stomach.
“Baby, I’m trying to cook,” I said with a laugh, but I already knew resistance was pointless. Her teasing always won.
She peeked around me to look at the stove. “It can wait a little, right? You’ve been working so hard lately. Let me take care of you first.”
Her hand slid lower, palming me through my pants. I was already half-hard just from her touch. Arin hummed happily as she felt me grow under her fingers. She turned off the stove with her other hand, then spun me around to face her.
“Arin…” I started, but she silenced me with a kiss. It was sweet at first, then deeper, her tongue brushing mine as she backed me against the counter.
She dropped to her knees right there on the kitchen tile, looking up at me with those sparkling eyes. “I’ve been thinking about this since I got home.” Her fingers worked my belt open, pulling my cock out. She stroked me slowly, her soft hand feeling perfect.
“So pretty and hard for me already,” she cooed, leaning in to lick a slow stripe from base to tip. She swirled her tongue around the head, tasting the precum before taking me into her warm mouth.
The blowjob started gentle and loving, just like Arin. She sucked softly, head bobbing as she took more of me each time. Her hand stroked the base in rhythm while her tongue pressed against the underside. I groaned, one hand gently in her hair as she worked me.
“You taste so good,” she whispered, pulling off for a second to catch her breath. Spit glistened on her lips and my shaft. She dove back in, sucking harder, taking me deeper until I hit the back of her throat.
“Fuck, Arin… you’re amazing at this,” I breathed.
She hummed around me, the vibration sending sparks up my spine. After a few more minutes of her eager sucking, I warned her I was close. Arin looked up at me and kept going, eyes locked on mine. I came hard down her throat, groaning as she swallowed every drop. She licked me clean afterward, kissing the tip sweetly before standing up with a satisfied smile.
“My turn,” she said, hopping onto the kitchen island. She spread her legs, pulling her shorts and panties aside. She was already wet. “Eat me while you’re still hard, baby.”
I stepped between her thighs, kissing her deeply first before dropping down. I licked her slowly at first, savoring her taste. Arin moaned softly, fingers in my hair as I licked and sucked on her clit. I pushed my tongue inside her, then two fingers, pumping them while I focused on her sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Yes… just like that,” she whimpered, hips rolling against my face. Her moans grew louder as I ate her out with everything I had. She masturbated her clit with her fingers while I licked lower, and soon she was trembling.
“I’m gonna cum—” she gasped. Arin squirted hard, warm fluid coating my tongue and chin as she cried out. I kept licking her through it, gentler now, until she was shaking and laughing breathlessly.
She pulled me up for another kiss, tasting herself on my lips. My cock was hard again, pressing against her. Arin wrapped her legs around me, guiding me inside her right there on the kitchen counter.
“Fill me,” she whispered. “I need you.”
I thrust in slowly, savoring the tight heat. Once I was fully inside, I started moving, holding her close as I fucked her on the counter. The position was perfect — deep and intimate. Arin’s arms were around my neck, breasts bouncing under her shirt as I picked up the pace.
We changed positions naturally. She turned around, bending over the counter so I could take her from behind. I gripped her hips, thrusting harder while reaching around to rub her clit. Arin pushed back against me, moaning my name.
“Harder, baby… I love feeling you so deep,” she gasped.
I gave her what she wanted, pounding into her as the sound of our bodies filled the kitchen. I reached under her shirt to squeeze her breasts, playing with her nipples while I fucked her. Arin came again, pussy clenching around me as she squirted onto the floor.
I pulled out and turned her to face me again, lifting one of her legs onto the counter for a deeper angle. We kissed messily as I thrust up into her, the counter creaking under us. Her hands roamed my back, nails digging in lightly when it felt especially good.
When I got close again, Arin dropped back to her knees quickly. “In my mouth this time. I want to taste you again.”
She sucked me eagerly, hand stroking fast. I came with a groan, filling her mouth with thick ropes. Arin swallowed most of it, some dripping from the corner of her lips as she looked up at me with a cute, satisfied smile.
We cleaned up the kitchen together afterward, laughing and stealing kisses. I reheated the pasta while Arin set the table, still glowing from everything we’d done. Dinner ended up being later than planned, but neither of us minded.
Sitting across from her at the table, watching her eat with that bright smile, my heart felt full. Arin reached over and held my hand between bites.
“I love when we get spontaneous like that,” she said softly. “You always make me feel so wanted.”
“You’re everything to me,” I replied, squeezing her hand. “Teasing me in the kitchen is always welcome.”
We talked for a long time after dinner — about her recent schedules, funny stories from practice, and little dreams for the future. She told me how safe and loved she felt with me, how these quiet nights helped her recharge. I shared how much I loved spoiling her, even if the food got cold sometimes.
Later that night we moved to the bedroom, but the kitchen fun wasn’t entirely forgotten. Arin rode me slowly under the sheets, kissing me deeply as we made love again. This time it was gentler, more emotional, with lots of eye contact and soft whispers. I came inside her as she trembled through another orgasm, holding each other close afterward.
Falling asleep with Arin curled against my chest, her leg thrown over mine, felt perfect. She was my bright, playful girlfriend who could turn an ordinary dinner into an unforgettable night. I was the luckiest guy in the world to have her teasing me in our kitchen and loving me so fully.
The ring light casts a warm halo across the desk, and Hanni adjusts the black silk mask for the third time. It sits just below her eyes, snug against the bridge of her nose. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and checks the camera angle — tight enough that the hotel room behind her dissolves into anonymous soft focus.
The tip thread goes up. bunny_void is live.
The viewer count ticks up. 47. 112. 384.
She leans into the lens, lets her eyes go half-lidded in that way she's perfected. Her bedframe creaks under her shift.
"Hey, voids," she says, voice dropped an octave lower than her real one. Practiced. A little breathy. "Missed you."
The chat scrolls to life:
throbbing_thunder: FUCK YES
cumdump_ella: bunny is live bunny is live bunny is live
bigdickenergy_69: take it off take it off take it OFF
angel_whispers: she sounds so good tonight
She trails a hand down her throat, over her collarbone, to the hem of her cropped white tank. The anticipation in the room is a living thing — she feels it through the screen, that hunger. It's what she comes back for. Not the money, though that's nice. The power of it. Of being wanted by thousands while they have no idea who she really is.
"You want to see what I got today?" she murmurs.
She reaches under the bed and pulls out the bag. Three new toys, still in their plastic. She holds them up to the camera one by one: a silicone butt plug with a jeweled base, curved and tapered. A glass dildo — clear, veined, lethal-looking. A wand vibrator with a bendable neck.
The chat explodes.
slutty_sub_boy: GLASS???
pinkpussypump: she's insane for this
daddy_chill69: I'M ALREADY HARD
lovestruck_luna: the way she handles those like it's nothing
Hanni sets them on the bed beside her, each within reach. She shrugs off the tank, unfastens her bra. Her nipples tighten in the cool air and she lets the camera catch every second of it. Then she hooks her thumbs into her shorts and peels them down her thighs.
"Been thinking about this all day," she says, settling back against the pillows, legs falling open. "On stage. During rehearsal. In the car."
She knows her fans would lose their minds if they knew. That the millions who watch her perform Hype Boy in pleated skirts and perfect choreography could open this page and see her like this — thighs slick, cunt already wetting the hotel sheets.
That's the part that gets her wet.
She picks up the butt plug first, squeezes lube onto her fingers. The camera captures everything in crisp HD. She reaches behind herself, between her legs, fingers finding her asshole. The hiss she lets out when the first finger pushes in is genuine.
"There," she breathes. "Fuck. There."
The plug goes in slow. She has to breathe through it, the stretch burning good, the jeweled base catching the light as it seats flush against her. She rocks her hips, adjusts, and the pressure shifts — a deep, spreading fullness that makes her mouth fall open.
cumdump_ella: that ASS
bigdickenergy_69: the way she took that
throbbing_thunder: I want to be that plug
angel_whispers: she's so tight holy shit
She gives herself a moment, panting, before reaching for the glass dildo. It's cold against her palm. She holds it up, lets them see every inch, then drags the tip down her stomach, over her clit, through her wetness.
"Look at that," she whispers, watching the glass shine with her own slick. "So messy."
She guides it to her cunt and pushes. The stretch is different from the plug — wider, harder, unyielding. Her back arches off the bed. A sound escapes her that she doesn't have to fake, a low guttural moan that turns into a string of Korean curses she'd never say on a music show.
The dildo slides deeper. She fucks herself with it, slow at first, then faster. The plug shifts inside her with every thrust, the double pressure sending sparks behind her eyes. She angles the glass toy different and finds the spot — that spongy, electric spot that makes her vision white at the edges.
"Oh," she gasps. "Oh, fuck —"
The wand vibrator buzzes to life in her other hand. She presses it to her clit and the combination hits her like a wave. Her hips buck. The dildo drives deeper. Her face twists into something ugly and beautiful — the ahegao her subscribers pay to see, eyes rolled back, tongue out, drool slipping down her chin.
She's loud. She knows she's loud. The thin hotel walls don't matter, the neighbors don't matter, nothing matters but the pleasure building in her gut like a storm.
"Yes, yes, yes —"
The chat is a blur:
screaming_slut: HER FACE HER FACE
daddy_chill69: SHE'S IN ANOTHER DIMENSION
cumdump_ella: I'm cumming with her I'm cumming
throbbing_thunder: that tongue oh my god
pinkpussypump: how is she real
lovestruck_luna: the prettiest girl on this site
Her orgasm crashes through her without warning. Her whole body seizes, the dildo shoved deep, the wand pressed hard against her clit as she rides it out. The moans turn into wordless cries. Her thighs clamp together and her ass clenches around the plug and she sees stars, actual stars, floating across her vision.
She comes down in stages. Limbs heavy. Breath ragged. The dildo still half-inside her, the wand buzzing against her thigh where it slipped.
"Fuck," she whispers, and laughs. A breathless, giddy laugh. "Okay. Okay. That was —"
She looks at the camera, at the chat — 4,700 viewers now, comments screaming in all caps — and feels a rush of affection for these strangers who worship her without knowing her name.
"Goodnight, voids," she says, and reaches for the mouse to end the stream.
She clicks.
The red light stays on.
She doesn't notice.
She's already reaching for the towel on her nightstand, wiping her hands. The camera catches everything — her stretching, the way the glass dildo finally slips out, the plug still nestled between her cheeks. She's beautiful in the aftermath, skin flushed, hair a mess, mask slightly crooked.
She hums a tune under her breath. A NewJeans song. She catches herself and stops.
The chat is still going, confused:
angel_whispers: wait
bigdickenergy_69: is it still on?
cumdump_ella: I think she forgot to end it lmaooo
throbbing_thunder: best mistake ever
pinkpussypump: she's so cute when she's not performing
slutty_sub_boy: the way she's just casually walking around
daddy_chill69: bro she has NO idea
Hanni pads to the bathroom. The camera watches an empty bed for a moment, then catches her silhouette through the frosted glass shower door. The sound of running water. Her voice, singing quietly.
She takes her time. Washes off. Comes back wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, and flops onto the bed with a contented sigh.
A phone buzzes on the nightstand. She picks it up, reads something, and her whole face transforms.
The smile is different from the performance smile, different from the stream smile. This one reaches her eyes. Soft. Private.
The chat notices:
lovestruck_luna: who made her smile like that
angel_whispers: I'm so jealous of whoever just texted her
throbbing_thunder: boyfriend?
cumdump_ella: noooo she's taken?
bigdickenergy_69: of course she's taken have you seen her
She types a reply, bites her lip, tosses the phone aside. Then she's up again, pulling on an oversized shirt — a NewJeans tour shirt, but the logo faces away from the camera, thank god — and nothing else.
A knock at the door.
Hanni's face lights up. She practically bounces to answer it.
"You're early," she says, voice bright, accent thicker than it was on stream.
"I couldn't wait."
The door closes. The lock clicks.
And then a man walks into frame.
He's tall. The camera catches his build — broad shoulders, dark hair, the confident stride of someone who knows exactly where he's going. He crosses the room and wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet. She laughs, wraps her legs around him, and kisses him like she's been holding it in for days.
The chat loses its collective mind:
throbbing_thunder: WAIT
bigdickenergy_69: IS THIS REAL
pinkpussypump: SHE FORGOT TO END THE STREAM
daddy_chill69: NO FUCKING WAY
cumdump_ella: WE'RE GETTING A LIVE SHOW
angel_whispers: this is so wrong but I can't look away
screaming_slut: who is he who is he who is he
slutty_sub_boy: look at how he holds her
lovestruck_luna: she's so happy my heart
They don't know. They think this is a lucky coincidence. A gift.
They have no idea what's about to happen.
He carries her to the bed and lays her down like she's something precious. The towel comes loose, and she's naked underneath, the butt plug still wedged in place.
His eyes catch it. His hand finds it, presses gently, and she gasps.
"You started without me," he says, voice low.
"Had to warm up." She's grinning. "Did you see the glass one?"
"I saw the glass one."
"I thought of you when I bought it."
The sound he makes is not quite human. He's on her then, mouth on her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. She arches into him, fingers tangling in his hair, the moans starting up again — louder now, unguarded, the way she sounds when she doesn't have to perform.
The chat is a tornado:
throbbing_thunder: THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE
cumdump_ella: he's going DOWN on her
bigdickenergy_69: listen to those moans holy shit
pinkpussypump: she is SO in love
daddy_chill69: the way he's touching her
angel_whispers: I can't believe we're seeing this
screaming_slut: her legs are shaking already
slutty_sub_boy: I want what they have
lovestruck_luna: this is so intimate I feel like I'm intruding
throbbing_thunder: intrude harder I'm not leaving
He works his way down her body, kissing every inch, taking his time. When he reaches her thighs he spreads them wide, looks up at her with dark eyes, and lowers his mouth to her cunt.
The sound she makes tears out of her throat. Loud. Raw. Unfiltered.
"Fuck — yes — right there —"
His tongue works her clit in tight circles. She's still sensitive from the orgasm she gave herself, and the stimulation is almost too much. Her hips try to squirm away but he holds her down, keeps going, relentless.
"That's it," she gasps. "Don't stop, don't stop —"
She comes again. Faster than she expected. Her hands grip the sheets and her back bows off the mattress and she cries out his name — not Y/N, not in the heat of it — but a real name, his name, that the chat catches and repeats:
throbbing_thunder: DID SHE JUST SAY HANNI?
cumdump_ella: HANNI? HANNI WHO?
bigdickenergy_69: there's like fifty Hanni in K-pop
On screen, Hanni is oblivious. She's on her hands and knees now, Y/N behind her, the butt plug finally sliding out. She gasps at the loss, pushes back against him.
"I want you inside me," she says. "Please. I need —"
He doesn't make her wait. The camera catches the head of his cock pressing against her, the way her whole body tenses, the slow, relentless push as he enters her.
They both groan. The sound harmonizes.
"Fuck," she breathes. "You feel — you feel so —"
He starts moving. Slow at first, deep thrusts that rock her forward. Her hands grip the sheets, her head drops between her shoulders, and she takes him with a hunger that's almost feral.
"Harder," she demands. "Harder, please —"
He gives her harder. The pace picks up, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Her moans are continuous now, a stream of sounds that don't form words. She doesn't care who hears. She can't hear anything but the blood rushing in her ears.
throbbing_thunder: I can't believe I'm watching a NewJeans member get railed
cumdump_ella: this is the best night of my life
bigdickenergy_69: she's taking it so well
pinkpussypump: look at her face
pinkpussypump: she's in heaven
daddy_chill69: HELL YEAH HELL YEAH
angel_whispers: I feel so guilty but I can't stop
screaming_slut: the way he's hitting it
slutty_sub_boy: deeper deeper DEEPER
lovestruck_luna: her thighs are quivering
throbbing_thunder: SCREENSHOT EVERYTHING
cumdump_ella: she's gonna wake up to a WAR
bigdickenergy_69: NewJeans is OVER
pinkpussypump: or this is gonna make them bigger
daddy_chill69: either way I'm here for it
Y/N flips her onto her back. He lifts her legs over his shoulders and drives into her from a new angle, one that makes her eyes roll back in her head. Her mouth falls open, tongue lolling out, that ahegao expression she perfected on stream now happening naturally, involuntarily.
"Look at me," he says. "I want to see you."
She forces her eyes to focus on his. The connection between them is palpable, even through the screen. This isn't performative. This isn't for the camera. This is real, and raw, and 4,700 strangers are watching it unfold.
"I love you," she gasps.
"I love you too."
He kisses her as he fucks her. Deep, consuming kisses that swallow her moans. His hand drifts between them, finds her clit, and she breaks against him with a cry that's half-sob.
The chat briefly goes quiet. Even the trolls are stunned.
Then:
throbbing_thunder: okay that was beautiful
cumdump_ella: I'm not crying you're crying
bigdickenergy_69: they really love each other
pinkpussypump: this went from porn to romance real quick
daddy_chill69: still porn though
daddy_chill69: GREAT porn
angel_whispers: I hope they're okay
angel_whispers: like after this
screaming_slut: she doesn't even know
slutty_sub_boy: she's gonna find out and die
lovestruck_luna: someone needs to tell her
throbbing_thunder: TELL HER?? AND RUIN THIS?? NO
He pulls out and she flips over again, presents herself. He enters her from behind, one hand on her hip, the other tangled in her hair. The pace is punishing now, building toward something inevitable.
"Where?" he asks.
"Inside," she begs. "Please, inside, I want to feel you —"
He lasts three more thrusts. She feels him pulse inside her, feels the heat of it, and that sensation — being filled, being claimed — pushes her over the edge with him. They come together, bodies locked, sounds escaping them that are almost animal.
He collapses beside her. She curls into him, face buried in his chest. The camera catches the rise and fall of their breathing, the sheen of sweat on their skin, the way his arm wraps around her like a shield.
Neither of them looks at the laptop.
Neither of them sees the red light.
They lie there, tangled and spent, and drift toward sleep. The chat continues to scroll, comments getting weirder, more obsessive, the links already spreading to other platforms.
The stream runs for another two hours before the laptop battery dies.
By then, the damage is done.
—
The news breaks overnight.
By the time Hanni wakes up at 11 AM, her phone is a brick of notifications. She squints at it, still half-asleep, and sees 13,842 unread messages.
She sits up.
Her first thought is that something happened to her family. Her second thought is a scandal — something she said, something she wore, some political thing she accidentally liked. Her third thought is the stream.
She turns to the laptop.
Dead battery.
She plugs it in. Powers it on. Opens the streaming software.
The red light blinks at her, steady and accusatory.
She stares at it for a long moment. Then she opens Twitter.
#bunny_void is trending at number one.
#HanniOnlyFans is trending at number two.
#NewJeansScandal is trending at number four.
Her stomach drops through the floor. She opens the first video that comes up — a re-upload, already with 2.3 million views — and watches herself. Watches the stream continue after she thought it ended. Watches herself get fucked on camera. Watches the chat realize who she is.
The video ends. She sits in silence.
The hotel room is too quiet. Y/N left early, back to his own schedule, and she's alone with this. With the knowledge that millions of people have seen her at her most vulnerable. That her members are about to find out. That her company is about to find out. That the entire world knows that bunny_void and Hanni Pham are the same person.
She throws up in the bathroom trash can.
When she comes back, her phone has buzzed again. A KakaoTalk notification from Minji. Then Haerin.
She opens Minji's first:
Minji: Hanni-ya. R u awake?
Minji: I need to know if that's really you.
Minji: Please say it's not u. Please.
Minji: Babe I'm not mad I'm just scared for u.
Minji: Call me when u see this.
Haerin's message is shorter:
Haerin: I saw the video.
Haerin: I'm not going to pretend I didn't.
Haerin: Call me when you can.
Haerin: I love you. We'll figure this out.
Hanni reads them twice. Three times. The tears start falling silently, tracking down her cheeks, dripping onto the screen.
She doesn't know what to do.
She doesn't know how to undo this.
But the videos are still spreading. The comments are still flooding in. The netizens are still talking.
—
The Pann forum thread has 4,700 comments and counting.
Title: NewJeans Hanni's OnlyFans leaked — full video here (CLICK)
Post deleted by moderator
Title: Wait, that's REALLY Hanni from NJ?
Comment 1: I didn't believe it at first but the mole is undeniable. And her voice when she wasn't putting on the stream voice. That's 100% her.
Comment 2: I'm in shock. Like actual shock. She's the sweetest member. The one with the aegyo. How???
Comment 3: She literally has a whole career as an idol and she's out here doing anal on a livestream. The duality is insane.
Comment 4: The way she was moaning though... she's really good at that...
Comment 5: bro that's a real person's daughter show some respect
Comment 6: She's a grown adult she can do what she wants. The problem is she didn't mean for it to leak.
Comment 7: "Didn't mean for it to leak" she forgot to end the stream for TWO HOURS. That's not a leak that's a disaster.
Comment 8: The boyfriend is apparently some non-celebrity? Rumor says he's a producer.
Comment 9: He's hot though. I'd let him ruin my life too.
Comment 10: The way they said I love you to each other... I can't even be mad. That's real.
Comment 11: ADOR is going to sue everyone who saved this
Comment 12: Too late. I have the whole thing downloaded.
Comment 13: She was PREGNANT at one point I heard
Comment 14: No she wasn't don't start rumors
Comment 15: The chat during the stream was insane people realizing it was her in real time
Comment 16: I was in that chat. I've never felt more alive.
Comment 17: Imagine waking up and finding out millions of people watched you fuck your boyfriend
Comment 18: Imagine being the boyfriend and finding out you're in a leaked sex video with a K-pop idol
Comment 19: He knew who she was. He was dating her knowing she was Hanni. He's fine.
Comment 20: This is going to destroy NewJeans' image
Comment 21: Or make them more popular. Bad publicity is still publicity.
Comment 22: The international fans are being surprisingly supportive. It's the Korean netizens who are the most shocked.
Comment 23: I'm Korean and I support her. She didn't hurt anyone. She did something private that got exposed. That's not a crime.
Comment 24: She literally has a masked OnlyFans. That's so smart honestly. She was protecting her identity. It was ONE mistake.
Comment 25: One mistake that's going to cost her millions
Comment 26: ADOR stocks already dropped 4%
Comment 27: The video of her singing Hype Boy during the shower part of the stream is so surreal
Comment 28: I can't look at her the same way
Comment 29: I can't look at her the same way either. I respect her more now. She's a whole woman with needs.
Comment 30: Y'all are gross. She's a victim of a leak.
Comment 31: She's a victim but she also ran a secret porn account for two years. Both things can be true.
Comment 32: TWO YEARS??? Source?
Comment 33: I've been following bunny_void for 18 months. The account has been active for at least that long.
Comment 34: NewJeans members are probably finding out right now too
Comment 35: Minji and Haerin already know. Their phones have been blowing up.
Comment 36: How do u know that
Comment 37: I'm at the HYBE building rn for work and saw their van pull up. They all look stressed.
Comment 38: leaked on set leaked on set leaked on set
Comment 39: God the memes are already coming. "Hanni forgot to turn off the camera" is going to be a legendary copypasta.
Comment 40: Remember when she said in that interview that she's "very careful about her private life"
Comment 41: STOP 😭😭😭
Comment 42: Link to the full video???
Comment 43: DM me I have the file
Comment 44: The sex was genuinely hot though. Like. The way he ate her out. I learned things.
Comment 45: The glass dildo scene was ART
Comment 46: She has a really nice body. Like genuinely. Her tits are perfect.
Comment 47: We need to stop analyzing her body like she's not a real person
Comment 48: She put her body on the internet willingly. We're commenting.
Comment 49: She put it on a PAID platform. Not for free.
Comment 50: Well it's free now ☠️
The thread goes on for pages. Arguments. Support. Mockery. Lust. Pity. The full spectrum of human reaction, all turned toward a 21-year-old girl sitting alone in a hotel room, holding her phone, not knowing what to say to the members who are waiting for her to call.
She reads more comments.
Twitter timeline:
@kpopnews_daily: UPDATE: ADOR has not issued a statement yet regarding the alleged leaked video of NewJeans member Hanni. We will update as more information becomes available. [25K retweets, 89K likes]
@nj_nation: Regardless of what happened, Hanni is still our queen. We support her. 🐇💙 [12K retweets, 45K likes]
@seoulgossip: The bunny_void account has been deleted but the internet never forgets. Full archive in my bio. [3K retweets, 12K likes]
@feminist_kr: A young woman's private sexual expression was leaked without her consent and everyone is sharing it like it's entertainment. You should be ashamed of yourselves. [8K retweets, 32K likes]
@mnet_official: Due to circumstances beyond our control, NewJeans' scheduled appearance on M Countdown this week has been postponed. We apologize for any inconvenience. [15K retweets, 67K likes]
@realhanni_pham: [No new tweets]
Hanni stares at her own profile. The last post is from three days ago — a selca in a café, smiling, holding a matcha latte. Before everything. Before the world found out.
She types. Deletes. Types again.
Nothing feels right.
Another KakaoTalk notification.
Danielle: Hannie I'm on my way to your room. Don't go anywhere. Don't post anything. We're going to fix this together okay? I love you.
Hanni lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
She's not alone.
But the video is still out there. 4.7 million views and climbing. And somewhere, a girl who used to be able to separate bunny_void from Hanni Pham is going to have to figure out how to live when those two worlds have violently, permanently collided.
The first thing I notice is the way she's standing at the edge of the pool, that pink cropped camisole clinging to her small tits, white ruffle trim bouncing with every nervous breath. The dark denim shorts hug her hips, showing off the curve of her ass. She's been avoiding my calls all day, and I can see the guilt written all over her pretty face. That's cute. That's really fucking cute.
"Yeonji," I say, my voice low, controlled. "Come here."
She hesitates, her eyes darting to the side, and that tiny rebellion makes my blood heat. The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity.
I cross the patio in three long strides, grab her by the wrist, and yank her toward me. She stumbles, letting out a soft gasp, and I drag her through the back door, through the living room, straight to the bedroom. She knows what's coming. I can feel her trembling under my grip.
"Please," she whispers. "I didn't mean to—"
"Shut up."
I toss her onto the bed. She lands with a bounce, her shorts riding up, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs. I'm on her before she can scramble away, my knee pressing into the mattress between her legs, my hand wrapping around her throat. Not hard enough to cut off air. Just enough to remind her who owns her.
"Did you think you could ignore me?" I growl, my thumb pressing into the soft hollow of her collarbone. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
Tears well in her eyes. Good. I love that look—the fear, the submission, the knowledge that she's completely at my mercy.
I rip the camisole down, the fabric tearing, her small tits spilling out. I don't bother with the bow. I just grab her left tit, squeezing hard, kneading the soft flesh until she whimpers. My other hand shoves up her shorts, past the waistband of her panties, finding her pussy already wet. Fucking slut. She's always wet for me, even when she's scared.
"Look at you," I mutter, sliding two fingers inside her cunt without warning. She arches her back, a strangled cry escaping her lips. "Soaking my fingers. You love this, don't you? You love being used."
I fuck her with my fingers, hard and fast, the wet sounds filling the room. Her legs start to shake, her thighs quivering as I curl my fingers, pressing against that spot that makes her see stars. She's close—I can feel her clenching around me—but I pull out before she can come. Not yet. I'm not done with her.
I flip her over, shoving her face into the mattress. Her shorts and panties come off in one rough yank, leaving her bare, her ass in the air. I spread her cheeks with both hands, exposing her tight little hole, and I spit on it. She shudders, and I press my thumb against her asshole, pushing in slow, watching her body tense.
"Please," she gasps, her voice muffled by the sheets. "It hurts—"
"I know."
I work my thumb deeper, stretching her, while my other hand reaches around to finger her pussy from behind. Two fingers in her cunt, thumb in her ass, and she's shaking, her legs giving out, her whole body trembling. I press down on her lower back, keeping her pinned, and I fuck her with both hands until she's sobbing, drooling into the mattress.
The first orgasm hits her like a wave. She cries out, her pussy clenching around my fingers, her asshole tightening around my thumb. I don't stop. I keep fucking her through it, overstimulating her, until she's begging me to stop.
"You don't get to tell me to stop," I say, pulling my fingers out and shoving them into her mouth. "Suck."
She does. She licks my fingers clean, her own juices coating her tongue, and I watch her with a cold satisfaction. I pull my hand away, grab her by the hair, and drag her to the edge of the bed. I sit down, pulling her over my lap, her bare ass in the air.
The first spank lands hard, and she yelps. The second leaves a red handprint. The third makes her sob. I spank her until her ass is bright red, hot to the touch, and she's crying into the carpet. I don't stop until I'm satisfied, and then I reach for my belt.
The buckle clinks as I slide it out of the loops. She hears it, and she starts begging, pleading, but I ignore her. I fold the belt in half, the leather heavy in my hand, and I bring it down across her ass.
The crack echoes through the room. A red line appears on her skin. She screams.
I whip her again. And again. And again. Each strike leaves a mark, a welt, a reminder of who she belongs to. By the time I'm done, her ass is a mess of red and purple stripes, and she's weeping, her body limp over my lap.
"Get up," I say.
She can't. Her legs are too weak, her body too broken. So I grab her by the waist, haul her up, and carry her to the pool. She's limp in my arms, her head lolling, her body covered in sweat and marks. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest.
I step into the water, the cold shocking her awake. She squirms, trying to push away, but I hold her tight. I walk deeper, until the water reaches my chest, and then I dunk her.
She thrashes, her arms flailing, bubbles rising. I hold her under for five seconds before pulling her up. She gasps, coughing, choking on water. I wait for her to catch her breath, and then I dunk her again.
This time, I hold her longer. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Her movements grow weaker, her struggles fading. When I pull her up, she's barely conscious, her eyes fluttering, her lips blue.
I drag her to the edge of the pool, my body pressing her against the tile. The water laps at her waist, and I spread her legs, positioning myself between them. I shove my cock into her pussy, and she moans, a weak, pathetic sound that makes me harder.
I fuck her in the water, my hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to cut off her air. She gasps, her eyes rolling back, her legs wrapping around my waist. The water sloshes around us, and I pound into her, using her, taking what's mine.
"You're nothing," I hiss in her ear. "You're nothing without me. I made you. I own you. And if you ever try to leave me, I'll destroy you. I'll leak every video, every photo, every dirty little secret you've ever told me. You'll be ruined. Your career, your life, everything."
She's crying, her tears mixing with the pool water. Her body is shaking, convulsing, as another orgasm rips through her. She comes on my cock, her pussy clenching, and I keep fucking her, using her pleasure against her.
I carry her back to the bedroom, her body limp and wet, and I lay her on the bed. She's half-conscious, her eyes glazed, her lips parted. I take her again, this time from behind, my hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back as I fuck her ass. She's too weak to resist, too broken to do anything but take it.
I come inside her, filling her, marking her. And when I'm done, I roll off, leaving her there, a crumpled mess on the sheets.
She's not moving. Her breathing is shallow, her body covered in bruises and welts. I reach for the small bottle of pills in my pocket, the ones I slipped into her drink earlier. They're already in her system, making her pliant, compliant, easy to use.
I lean over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you," I whisper. "You know that, right? I do this because I love you. Because you're mine."
She doesn't respond. She can't. But that's fine. She'll learn. She always does.
This one is more for "getting it off my chest", BECAUSE LIKE SHE IS MAKING ME SO FRUSTRATED & CONFUSE!!! Half of me wants to protect that smile & beautiful eyes, while keeping her smiling & laughing if I ever had the chance to.
On the other side though, I can't help but want to have her eyes look at me as her mouth opens up; welcoming my dick to the back of her throat. As I reach behind her head, pushing her mouth down my cock making her eyes widened while tearing up as they're looking up at me. With those lips wrapped around my cock and swallowing every inch of it, as I force her mouth down my shaft; until her lips kiss my pelvis and she's gagging on it, but not looking away from me or flinching as my tip rubs the sides of her throat.
Keeping her there until her tears run down the side of her face, and lips stick is all messed up from the saliva that spilled & spread out of her mouth cause of the gagging! With the grip I have on the back of her head, I pulled her up having her inhale for some air; while I'm holding her head up by pulling on her hair as I'm looking at Kazuha's face, which is a mess from the tears & saliva aftermath but she didn't last long with a empty mouth. With the grip I had, I pushed her mouth back down my cock; this time I wouldn't hold her there but instead I would pull her head back up just to push it back down. Repeating the cycle until I had her choking on the cum I shot down her throat.
Being how stubborn she is, Kazuha ended up smiling at how she had me cumming; with just her face as she sticks out her tongue while I pull out. Making me drag my tip down her tongue, spreading the thin trace of cum that was left behind. She kept smiling as she felt the small trace of sensation of thin watery cum on her tongue. Gladly swallowing it which added a smile in her eyes. This had me taking my soft wet dick into my hand, and use the tip to spread her lipstick, saliva, my cum and musk all over her mouth. Leaving it a mess while marking those lips as mine.
You look at her who is still in her seat, hand clicking and sliding rapidly across the frictionless mousepad as she tries to weave past attacks flying towards her.
“Give me a minute, babe. Let me finish this up.”
You drag a chair from an empty cubicle behind her and sit down.
And you wait. Wait. Waited.
Your wrinkled fingers tremble. Your baggy eyes waver. Your drooping back falls lower.
You're exhausted and tired.
But it's time.
“Victory!”
A deep, booming and resonant voice announces her win directly into her ears. You don't hear anything of course, since headphones are only meant for one person’s use.
Headphones that you bought for her. A Razer Kraken Kitty V3 Pro — Quartz that cost a fifth of your meagre part-time salary. And because you were so worried that she might damage it, you even offered to yourself to add on the extended warranty for its protection of an extra three years.
Who would have known that extended warranty does not protect your already crumbling feelings for her. Your ‘friends’ have called you blind, lovesick, or a dumb idiot, among many other nastier names, but at least someone chose to be with you.
Well, you're her cash cow after all.
She doesn't need to bat her eyelashes to get that limited edition Razer Enki X Hello Kitty and Friends gaming chair that burned half a hole through your pathetic wallet. She doesn't even need to whine and pout with the sole aim of draining your monthly cheque to buy the SHEGLAM Full Collection Set when she already has a CHANEL LES BEIGES HEALTHY GLOW SUMMER ESSENTIALS makeup set at home. That one was from the courtesy of your funding too, you remind yourself.
She turns around and looks at you. She's pretty. Pretty because you have worked your sorry ass to the bone just to keep her happy. Everything on her and used by her was and is from you.
But you're going to ensure that the tense doesn't become a future one. No more gifts for her that will be coming from you.
“So, what is it babe?” she coos, this time somehow magically batting her eyelashes.
You take in her victory-drunk expression from the game match which she has just won and swallow down a non-existent glob of saliva that your malfunctioning salivary glands are producing.
“I said, let's break up.”
“Like us?” she asks, pointing her finger between you and her repeatedly.
“Yes.”
“B-But why?”
“You don't love me anyway,” you say. “Nothing you say is going to change my mind, so let's just make this a clean break.”
You immediately stand and turn to leave, in fear that if you stay any longer, you’ll actually change your mind.
“Wait! No!”
She grabs on to your arm and clings to it with both hands, shouting at you with an exaggerated cutesy voice.
“But what about that skin that you promised to buy me? I already told my friend that I’ll buy it for her, and if you leave now, I’ll be labelled as a liar!”
You freeze in your step, heart clenching in helplessness.
“There’s also my monthly subscription for the battle pass! What about that? How am I going to pay for that now? Can you pleeeeaaasseeeee not terminate the recurring payment?”
Your fists clench. Your teeth grit against each other.
“And that new keyboard that you’ve already ordered for me, you won't be cancelling it, right? It's my favourite after all.”
That's it.
You yank your hand away from her and turn to her. Your mouth opens and your chest expands, ready to launch a bombardment of accusations of how much of a money grubber she is (not an accusation, by the way), but in the end, your lips simply close to a shape just enough for a growl.
“No. I had enough.”
Her face instantly switches. From a cute puppy to a devilish three-headed hell dog reminiscent of Cerberus, she begins to berate you.
“Enough? What do you mean enough? Haven't I been giving you more than you deserve? You should be glad that I even bothered to hang out with such a loser like you. You don't even have any friends, and you should fucking consider it a blessing from god that I see you as pitiful enough to cast eyes on your loathsome self.”
You stand there and take in the verbal assault, just like how you always do when there's nobody around, except that this time, you have close to sixty pairs of curious eyes from all around the PC Bang probably scoffing at you.
“Wait…” she hums, before continuing. “I see what it is. You're mad that I haven't spread my legs for you right? All these gifts and presents bought for me, but here you are, still a virgin that can't even get any pussy.”
She gives a mocking laugh and digs her finger into your chest.
“Virgin. Loser. Pussy,” she sneers, enunciating every syllable. “I’m sooo fucking glad I haven't even allowed you to even hold my hand.”
And you, who upholds the thinking of women shouldn't be retaliated against, regardless of whether its physically, verbally, or mentally, you just stand there and soak in every negative emotion enacted upon you like a sponge. Your clenched fist relaxes but your nerves twitch. Your heart pounds and adrenaline rushes, but you divert that to calm your surging rage.
“I bet if I—”
She raises her hand and stretches her palm wide.
“—fucking slap you right here, you wouldn't even do anything about it.”
Air whooshes and she swings it down.
You close your eyes on instinct, your muscles tensing to harden your skin and soften the incoming impact.
Air graces your cheek instead of flesh.
“What the fuck—”
You slowly open your eyes and look at her.
Or them.
“Let go of me—” she yells, yanking her hand off Nagyung’s grip. She had barely managed to step in at the last second, stopping you from getting a temporary tattoo of red handprint on your cheek.
“Leave,” Nagyung steps in between the two of you. “Or I’ll call the police on you for public nuisance and disruption of businesses.”
“I’ll be fucking back,” she says, glaring at you which Nagyun had promptly shifted her face to cut her eye contact. “I’ll bring all—”
“The only thing you’ll bring is bringing your stuff back,” Nagyung declares. “You will be hereby blacklisted and banned from this internet café, as well as any of our other branches. We will however allow you one additional day to collect your—”
Nagyung points to all ‘her’ equipment that you have gifted.
“—stuff, otherwise, they will all be promptly discarded.”
“You fucking bitch!” she screams, raising her hand once again to slap Nagyung this time round.
“Leave already!”
“Stop being such a bother!”
“Fuck off!”
Protests and complaints from other patrons came from all around, jeering at her.
“Stupid ass café,” she grumbles, flustered at the turn of situation. “You're all in on this together.”
She turns and grabs her belongings, storming past glaring gamers with her own death glares.
“I’ll ask each and every one of my friends to review bomb this place!” she screams before the door closes, muffling her unfounded outrage.
“I apologise for the commotion,” Nagyung says, bowing deeply. “However, please be considerate to your fellow customers, otherwise, we will blacklist you like that Karen earlier.”
The café returned to its still busyness, with the sounds of keyboard buttons and mouse clickings filling the air once again.
Nagyung grabs on to your wrist and pulls you into the kitchen.
“You alright?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you answer unconfidently. “Just…”
“You don't have to explain to me. I saw everything.”
“I'm such an idiot, huh?” you mumble.
“Yeah. It was about time. I was wondering when you’ll cut her off. Why were you even trying to keep that toxic of a relationship alive?”
You fall silent, leaning back against the kitchen counter and stare at the unopened packs of ramen lined in the cabinets above through the see-through glass.
Nagyung sighs.
“You want to clock out early today?”
That knocks you out of your daze.
“N-No! I need money. I’ll have to pay for her battle pass subscription still…”
Slap.
“Ow!” you shout, rubbing the back of your head. Nagyung smacks you, and if there's one thing you know about her, it’s that she doesn't hold back.
“You’re really an idiot. If you're going to continue feeding her, why break up with her in the first place? I know you're a people pleaser, but that isn't a battle pass for people to step all over you.”
She takes in a deep breath and continues to nag.
“Why are you even allowing people to step over you? Is your dummy brain that dumb?” She placed four fingers on her forehead and shook her head in disappointment. “If you're gonna continue to do that, I'm not going to issue your salary to you anymore.”
“Hey!” you argued, your voice’s volume increasing in intensity. “I'm not an idiot. And I'm not going to work for free. Who are you to decide if I get my money or not?! This isn't even your shop. It's your parents. You're just like me, a person who’s a loser—”
You mouth snaps shut at the misspoken words, and panic wells up in you.
“I-I’m sorry. I was just—”
“Go home,” Nagyung says.
“I—”
“I said, GO HOME.”
You look at her, trying to decipher her emotions, but you learn nothing. She doesn't look angry nor sad, and obviously she doesn't look happy. You open your mouth to speak, but she simply points her finger to the locker that houses your backpack.
Raising your hands in defeat, you sigh and walk past her, grabbing your stuff before heading out.
“Hey,” Nagyung calls out.
You turn and look at her.
“Come here.”
You walk over.
“Ouch!”
She had kicked your shin so hard that the tremor travelled from your bone up your spine into your head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, sticking her tongue out at you before walking off to the counter, accepting an order for a bowl of instant noodles.
For the first time that evening, you smile.
You walk out of the PC café, head seemingly clearer from the liberation of your now-ex girlfriend and the head shock from Nagyung’s kick.
———
And so you think.
Your wallet finally feels full after like what, six years?
You take a sip of the bitter herbal tea.
Yes. Six years. You can't believe yourself either. You had actually waited six years of financial and emotional exploitation before mustering up the courage to free yourself from the shackles of that toxic relationship.
Was it her fault?
You boot up the PC in the closed internet café.
Yes, definitely. It was totally her fault. That scum of a woman who was a money loving whore.
Right. A little too harsh on your words there, but it's a fact. She still is a money loving whore, by the way — she had sent you a text message earlier asking for some funds to a new weapon skin.
That message was ignored, of course.
You stare at the loading screen of the computer, watching the dots appearing and disappearing in a circular path as a software update installs.
But somehow, you couldn't bring yourself to hate her. Sure, she was the metal cuffs of greed that drained and milked you of your finances, but you were the one who placed them upon yourself.
Cuffed yourself up.
Locked your wrists with them.
The screen switches and you key in the password. The familiar wallpaper advertising the PC café’s name greets you. Double click, and the game she always plays launches.
Anytime you could have used the keys in your hands to free yourself, to break out of your predicament, but you chose not to. You stuffed them into your pocket — your self imposed cage of your innermost desire for companionship.
A match starts. You choose a character that she always asks you to — one that only acts as a support to hers.
Perhaps you just wanted someone to be around you, to laugh, to talk, to appreciate each other without any favours or transactions that powers the relationship.
You wander around aimlessly, spamming buffs at allies randomly without a plan. A heal comes before a tank gets hit: they die because your skill is on cooldown. You buff a thief with intelligence stat instead of strength: they get deleted because their critical hit fell short of the opponent’s remaining HP.
Why do you feel so empty despite your wallet being full?
You get kicked out of the team.
The cursor hovers over the lobby’s different rooms. You pick a random one, one filled with the maximum number of players. Battle royale game mode. You ask for allies, try and form alliances. This time, you wake out of your stupor and support your team well, well enough that you and your three teammates are the last surviving players.
The elimination zone closes in towards the map’s centrepoint as the match reaches its penultimate showdown.
Four players, three ranking spots.
You four meet in an empty plaza.
You press F7 on your keyboard and start typing in the chat box.
How are we going to deci—
YOU DIED
A concentrated ice beam.
A overhead guillotine drop.
A barrage of missiles.
Before you can even hit the escape button and toggle out of text messaging mode, all three skills hit you squarely. Your HP bar drops to nil and the red words of death flood the screen.
Three different attacks kill you.
No.
It was only one.
An attack of betrayal.
This was premediated, no doubt. You had once again been used and discarded. Just as how your life had been like.
Perpetual giving and no receiving.
You quit the game and turn off the computer, leaning back into the chair. At least the soft cushions of your seat don't betray you.
You grab the glass and give your bitter tea its last bitter sip. It makes your tongue cringe and your mind grimace, but somehow, you feel a little better.
You need more—
“Here.”
A fresh glass of cold herbal tea appears in front of your face.
“Nakko.”
You sit up slightly, but she pushes you back onto the chair.
“Relax. We’re not at work anymore.”
She shakes the glass of tea slightly.
“Aren't you gonna take it?”
“R-Right,” you say, swapping your empty glass for the full one. “Thanks.”
“It’ll be deducted off your paycheck, by the way.”
You spit out the half sip that was already past your throat, discharging it back into the cup through the straw.
“You serious?”
“Employees are only entitled to one drink and one meal per day,” she says. “Don't tell me you forgot. You've been working here since like I was working here.”
“Fuck…” you curse, but you suckle on the straw regardless, drinking back the now saliva-contaminated-beverage.
“I’m joking. The rule is there but it can not be there,” she says, pulling a chair from the cubicle beside yours. “Why are you still here? You're usually home by now.”
“Bored. Free. Finally have some time to myself other than that bitch.”
You tap on the keyboard, playing with the buttons. You press it with every passing second, imagining how the black space on the unturned-on screen expands infinitely with every spacebar that you punch with your index finger.
Nagyung tucks her two hands under her thighs and swings her legs, looking at you with an unreadable expression.
“As you should. But why aren't you playing more?”
You close your eyes.
Your mouth opens and you want to tell her how empty you feel.
Instead, you suck in the remaining four hundred and seventy six millimetres of tea and stand up.
“Did she pick up her stuff?”
“Why are you even asking me the question?” Nagyung says. “You saw that her stuff was shifted out for her to claim when you came in. The stuff is now gone.”
She gives you the ‘it’s obviously picked up’ look.
“I was just… curious.”
Nagyung sighs and mutters.
“She did. She showed up with two males, which I assumed were her new boyfriend candidates. They helped her move everything into a truck that was driven by a third male friend before they all got in and drove off.”
You look at the arrow keys this time, playing with the left and right buttons as you tapped them alternatingly.
“Do you think she let them fuck her?”
“How would I know? Is that even important?”
“…Yes,” you mumble. “Because apparently I’m not worthy of even holding her hand.”
Nagyung stares at you, her eyes wavering slightly, unsure of what she should say.
“I should go,” you say, heading to the kitchen to grab your bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Nagyung watches you leave.
“Dummy,” she mutters.
———
“Ya, you look like shit. What the fuck happened to you?”
You look at her who enters the kitchen.
“Hey,” you mutter, casting your gaze back to the terminal and accept an order for a bowl of instant noodles.
“Have you even eaten?” Nagyung asks, donning her work apron.
You hesistate with your answer.
“Oh look, they asked for two extra eggs and three cheese sausages,” you say, diverting the topic. “Can't forget that.”
You turn to the induction stove and turn it on, placing a pot filled with water to the premarked dot that had been determined to be the secret of perfect chewiness of PC café noodles.
Water boils, noodles in, a right amount of time to cook. Not a minute more, not a second less. Seasoning in. The timer beeps and you turn off the induction, cracking two eggs in. Whilst you allow the residual heat to cook the eggs, you turn to take the sausages off the warmer and place them on a side plate.
Done.
You pour the spicy soup noodles into a bowl and garnish with a small serving of subtly sourish kimchi, then place them all onto a serving tray.
“You missed something,” Nagyung said, her arms crossed.
“I didn't.”
She raises her eyebrows and looks at you.
“Two extra eggs and two cheese sausages,” you say, pointing at each extra ordered topping. “See? One, two. Two eggs. One, two. Two cheese sausages.”
She plucks the order receipt from the holder above the countertop and presses it to your face.
“It's three,” she says, pointing at the cheese sausages. “One, two. Two cheese sausages.”
“Right. S-Sorry.”
You turn to take another sausage from the warmer, before walking out of the kitchen with the right order in your hands.
Nagyung clicks her tongue distastefully.
You walk towards the customer on the far end and serve it to him. Once you hear a hum of approval after he gives the noodles a slurp, your job is accomplished.
“Hey, could I get some potato chips?”
“I need some help with my PC here!”
Callouts reach you as you try to make your way back to the kitchen, so you attend to them.
You help a lady who has her PC frozen from opening three games. You take an order from a boy who wants ten pack of chips. You clear empty glasses and bowls onto your now empty tray.
“I need to go to the washroom,” Nagyung calls out to you. “Help me with finishing up this order!”
She takes her apron off and leaves the kitchen, leaving you scrambling back with fifty thousand things to do. You take the chips and place it on the counter — you’ll bring it out together with the other order later. You dump the dirty crockery into the dishwasher.
Phew.
Time to finish up the noodles on the stove. You take a look at the order. Same thing. Two eggs, three cheese sausages, but this one came with even more extra add ons of beansprouts and tofu slices.
You promptly cook everything and place them on the tray like a ritual, bringing it out again.
Aisle D10.
You walk in, making your way to the customer. Except that it's empty.
“What?”
You look to the cubicle beside D10 and tap on a student’s shoulder.
“Was anyone here?”
He peels off his headphones and looks at you with annoyance, seemingly irritated that you disrupted his mob farming momentum.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“What part of No do you not understand?” He rolls his eyes. “Now leave me alone.”
What a rude little—bzzt.
Your phone vibrates.
You set down the food on D10’s table and take your phone out.
You pocket your phone and settle into D10. Seconds later, you're already digging in to the noodles, chewing on the sausage, breaking the gooey yolk. She even added tofu and beansprouts to the order to make sure you have a balanced meal.
Fuck. How will you even repay her.
Halfway through the meal, you suddenly stop.
You had forgotten.
This was the exact seat that she was always using. She always used to order you to cook her meals as she played, disregarding if you were slaving away or not. She slurped her noodles here, pressed the keyboard here, and abused you here.
Your appetite is gone. You gag a little, but you decide to swallow back the minute amount of food you puked into your mouth.
Can't be dirtying the area.
You picked up the food and walked back to the kitchen, dumping everything into the wastebin.
Nagyung looks at you by the side.
You ready your ears for a beration and scolding for wasting food, but nothing comes. Nagyung just looks at you with a pair of eyes that you've seen like maybe twice? Thrice?
Point is, she rarely looks this soft and gentle.
“You alright?”
“Yea,” you answer immediately. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“Why would you be?”
“I—”
“Give me a minute.”
She walks out of the kitchen into the café and picks up a small microphone.
Ahem.
Attention please.
Due to an emergency, we will be closing the café in ten minutes time.
We apologise for the inconvenience.
As compensation, your next session here will be free of charge.
Once again, we apologise for the inconvenience.
She walks back into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?!”
“Shut up.”
Nagyung shushes you and retreives a piece of paper, noting down all the customer IDs as they pack up and leave the café. She makes a mark on the paper after the last person leaves, signing off with a: Customer List for Compensation.
“Help me out, will you?”
She takes an empty tray and rag, passing it to you. Once you’ve gotten yours, she takes her own and heads out into the café, cleaning up the mess and trash that the customers left.
You walk out and join her.
You half expect her to ask you questions while the both of you work, but nothing flies your way.
Silence.
Nothing but the shuffling of feet, sounds of the chairs’ roller wheels being pushed back into place, clinking of dishes, and the clattering of keyboards buttons as you both run sanitary wipes over them.
8.32 p.m.
An hour has passed since you both started cleaning up.
You pull the rack off the dishwasher and pick up a dry cloth, wiping the water off the washed dishes.
One bowl after another.
One spoon after a fork.
Plates stack high, but not taller than bottle of soy sauce.
Nagyung stands there and looks at you, watching you place the last dish into the cabinet.
“So,” she finally speaks. “Fancy a walk outside?”
You look at her. You're tired. You want to go home and sleep. At least you hope that you get some sleep.
Bur you nod anyway.
She hums in approval and turns to her locker.
“C’mon, grab your coat.”
You both walk down the cool streets.
The night was just beginning as people hopped out of diners and offices, but they also stumbled into bars and clubs.
“What's with you lately?” she asks, hand stuffed into her pockets. “You've been looking so… distracted.”
“I don't know. I really don't know. I feel so… empty.”
You stare down at the square tiles that line the pavement, trying to place your foot in every tile’s dead centre with every step that you take.
Childish, you know. But that is what that interests you right now.
“I just feel lost. Not in the way you think.”
“Me?” Nagyung asks. “How would you know how I think?”
You shrug.
“I don't know. I’m thinking that you think I'm a pathetic bastard who can't think for himself now that his overbearing and manipulative girlfriend is gone.”
“Well…” Nagyung mumbles, looking at you as she weighs her words and thoughts. “I agree with the pathetic part. But unable to think for yourself? That's a hard no.”
“Tell me more,” she says. “Tell me how you actually feel.”
“I thought I would feel happy. You know? More money and time to spend on myself.”
You stop by a roadside stall that's selling spicy tteokbokki. Nagyung orders a plate and adds some soondae (bloood sausage) to it. Then you settle into the small tent by the side, waiting for the order to arrive.
“I can finally play all the games I wanted. To use all the characters I didn't have a chance to experience.”
The owner brings over the plate and sets it down on the table. The rice cakes and blood sausages are covered in spicy and sweet red sauce, and two skewer sticks are stabbed into random pieces.
Nagyung takes one stick and pokes a rice cake, popping it into her mouth. She chews the white cylindrical national dish with pondering eyes, watching and listening to you while she eats.
“But with every game I played, I hated what I loved doing even more. I was constantly reminded of how she ordered me around, how she shamelessly whined for skins, how she gets mad at me for mistakes that she makes.”
You stare at the red plate, red equally flooding your eyes and chest.
“I didn't want to play anymore games. Not when it reminds me of her.”
“That I understand. But what about your meals? I can't be having a skeleton serve my customers, right?!”
“I’m afraid I’ll vomit if I do.”
“What? Are you not going to eat because instant noodles remind you of her?”
“They do…”
Nagyung sighs and pokes a piece of blood sausage, passing it to you.
“Eat.”
You look at the purplish-brown slice that's covered with red sauce. Nagyung shakes it slightly, nudging the piece towards you with a go on look.
You take the stick from her and put the food in your mouth.
You chew.
You swallow.
Chew and swallow, chew and swallow.
You chew and swallow.
The next thing you know, you're theee quarters through the plate, and Nagyung had unknowingly pushed it towards you.
“I-I'm sorry, Nakko,” you stutter, flustered at how you had basically ‘stole’ her share of the food.
“You're really an idiot,” she smiles, propping head up by the chin as she puts her elbows on the table. “I bought it for you, so eat it all up. Don’t choke.”
She looks at you with soft eyes as you slow your wolfing down of the food.
“Does fucking her really matter for you?” she asks.
You look at her, taken aback by the sudden interrogation, but you answer anyway. You've been close to Nagyung since god knows when, and talk about such matters was never something you both shyed away on.
“Not really,” you say, poking another piece of rice cake. “I just wanted to be… appreciated.”
She nods her head and just listens to you, taking in all your inner feelings and thoughts.
“You know, I used to think to myself. Am I really such a detesta—”
“Say, wanna do something else?” Nagyung cuts in. “It's Friday night. I know I did a diabolical thing and closed the café when there's so much money to be earned, but I guess I needed a break too.”
You stare at her blankly, since you too were taken aback by her actions.
“What could we do?”
“I don't know, something to distract yourself? There's an arcade a little down the road. Wanna hit that up?”
Arcade. It's been a while since you visited one. It's a money sucking land, but somehow, you're already deep into a claw machine, donating your seventeenth dollar coin to them profit makers.
Nagyung’s by your side, cheering you on, squealing useless directions she wants you to move the joy stick for the optimal clawing position. And of course like 99.8375% of attempts, the empty box of iPhone 17 Pro Max gets shifted a few inches before dropping back among the unobtainable stash of desirable treasures.
“And it's a net loss,” you declared, raising your hands in defeat.
“I really wanted it though,” she chuckles.
“Why do you even want an Apple product? There's like no room for self customisation.”
“What? I want it so that I can sell it, of course,” she giggles. “Why would I want a phone when I already have one that's perfectly fine.”
“You can't say that, you know?” you say. “You better go touch some wood, otherwise, the next thing you know, your phone is gonna spoil.”
“I never believe in such things,” Nagyung says, but she's already touching every possible wooden surface in the arcade.
She looks at the spoils for today: one generous keychain of a simple pink heart.
“I want it.”
“You can have it. I’ll be labelled as a gay under societal norms if I hang that on my bag.”
She bursts out laughing.
“Who says you need to hang girlie stuff to look like a gay. What makes you think you aren't already one?”
“Ya,” you curse at her, but somehow, how just break into a smile.
“Feeling better already?” Nagyung asks.
“Thanks,” you say, nodding.
“Let's head back,” she says. “I have more things planned for you.”
When you’re back at the café, Nagyung promptly turns on enough lights to make sure things are at least visible. She brings you to booth D10, which is apparently your nemesis right now.
She sits you down and boots up the computer, before taking her place in front of a PC beside yours.
“What is this?” you ask, your face already uneasy from being in this spot.
“We play.”
“I don't want to.”
“Hey, look at me.”
You don't. You just stare at the keyboard. Looking at the letters on the keys. Your mind keeps thinking of how she would not even bother to look at you and command you to do things. Your mind keeps thinking about the keyboard she made you buy. The mouse she wanted. The headphones that costed nothing to her.
It reminds you of—
“Look at me.”
Nagyung’s voice snaps you out of your trance. She grabs your hand, what the hell this is so weird, she's your best friend why would she grab your hand, but you don't pull away.
“You're just escaping,” she says, holding your hand tight. “I know you love playing games. I know you love eating instant noodles here. Are you going to let your love for what you love disappear? That doesn't seem very fair to yourself, right?”
“Uh… Nakko,” you mutter.
“Hmm?”
“Why are you holding my hand right now?”
“W-Well, you’ve been harping about how your stupid ex never lets you hold her hand, so I thought I would let you hold mine. Why? Are my hands not worthy? Are they not to your liking?”
“Yes. Wait I mean no! No!”
You squeeze her fingers tight.
“It's just, we aren't anything but friends, so wouldn't it be weird if we like… do this?”
“R-Right.”
She releases her hands from yours and turn to her monitor, muttering something under her breath.
“It’s not like you cared when you held my hands when we were small kids anyway.”
“What was that?” you ask.
“N-nothing,” she diverts. “Anyway, point being, don't stop doing something you love just because it reminds you of something bad. If anything, shouldn't you forge happier memories to replace them?”
You lean back onto the chair, taking in Nagyung’s words as you look at the screen.
“Are you gonna wallow in the past and stay unhappy perpetually?”
You close your eyes and ponder for a second. Many seconds.
Right. Maybe it is time to let myself be free.
“Nakko.”
You open your eyes and look at her.
“Thanks.”
“Dummy,” she says, smiling at you cutely. “Boot it up. We’ll play some matches together.”
A few moments later you're already deep into the game, blasting enemies to death with your mini-alliance with Nagyung. You both die early once, unable to do a thing except for spending the next twenty minutes watching how the rest of the game pan out. In another, you both manage to survive until the end, to which you rock paper scissored her and lost, so you let her kill you to take the number one spot.
But she disconnects from the game and lets you win.
“Then what was the point of me throwing scissors and you paper?” you say.
“You're stupid,” she says, rolling her eyes and bleps at you. “Men are supposed to always throw rock. You're the dummy for throwing a scissors.”
Games continue into the night, and by the time your stomachs are growling, time has passed into the domain of pre-morning where you both should be getting your daily dose of REM sleep. But who the fuck cares when you're having the time of your life. You can't even remember when you had so much fun or smiled this wide.
“I’m hungry,” Nagyung said, raising her arms up high as she stretches with a unholy moan. “Instant noodles?”
“Bet.”
You both stand and walk to the kitchen, only to be dismayed by the fact that there are no instant noodles left.
“Right,” Nagyung sighs. “Stock comes in tomorrow.”
“Bummer.”
“Alcohol? I got some beer stashed in here.”
“I’ll pass. We still have work tomorrow. Plus, I don’t want to get drunk and do stupid things.”
“Oh? What kind of stupid things?”
“N-Nothing. I mean, obviously stupid things like vomitting all over the place, falling onto the ground. Definitely not things like kissing or touching you or anything.”
“You sure?”
“Yea. I wouldn’t do that to you. Much less my best friend.”
“Wow. I’m offended. Am I that unattractive to you?”
“What? No! You're pretty, you're hot… hell, you're one of the hottest women I know. I don't even know why you aren't doing modelling or anything.”
Nakko puffs her chest up and flicks her hair backwards.
“Guess you have some conscience left in you.”
This time, you let your eyes linger. The colorful top hugs her figure, exposing the gentle curve of her shoulders and the sliver of skin above her shorts. Her long caramel hair hangs effortlessly around her, but your eyes draw towards her toned belly and the smooth expanse of her milky legs.
She's always been beautiful, but somewhere along the way, you don’t know when, your eyes had stopped seeing her as your best friend and quietly started seeing a woman.
“You're drooling.”
Your hand snaps to your mouth, wiping away nothing.
“Don't tease me, you shit.”
She laughs and opens the fridge, bending down to take two packets of milk. You swear she jutted her ass out towards you. Not exactly purposeful, but subtle enough for you to notice.
She chucks it to you.
You catch it and poke the straw in, taking a small sip of the cool liquid cream.
“Say, did you really love her?”
Nagyung shifts towards you and stands by your side, leaning against the counter.
“Love… I don't really know. She was the only one who approached me after all.” You swirl the packet of milk in your hands, looking at it as if you can see through the opaque carton. “Rather than love, maybe I think it was more like I was just accepting anyone who showed interest in me.”
You give the carton a big sip, drinking away your sorrows with the non-alcoholic calcium supplement.
“Now that I look back, I was really such an idiot huh. I had someone who really cared about me, but I didn't think much of it.”
Nagyung put down her milk and stared at her shoes.
“What am I to you?”
You put down your milk and also stare at your shoes.
“A friend. My best friend. My only friend who has been my best friend since forever. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing the only thing I have left.”
“Why would you?” Nagyung mumbles.
“Because I think I like you more than a friend. You've been with me for so long that I was just blind of your existence to me.”
Bzzt.
Your phone vibrates. You pull it out and it's a call from your ex. You pick up.
“Hey.”
“About damn time you picked up. When will you send me my keyboard? Oh and also the subscription for the battle pass next mon—”
“You money grubbing bitch.”
“What the fu—”
“Yeah you. You think I want to hold your hand? You think I want to kiss you? Even if you spread your legs, I wouldn't even look at you. I'm sorry, but I'm not attracted to narcissistic mosquitoes.”
“The fuck are you talking about? Who would even—”
“It's me, you bitch.”
Nagyung snatches the phone from you.
“Why? Are you jealous? Are you mad that your money cow is going somewhere else? If only you could see us right now. I'm holding his fucking hand. Maybe even hands. He's mine, you got it. He's mine and mine and mine forever. And you? You can go suck those three pussy thirsting gooners who want nothing other than to get in your pants. And guess what? Those gooners won't stay with a slut like you. Unlike you, my relationship with him will be perpetual. So fuck off.”
Beep.
She hangs up the call.
“That was… quite the speech,” you mutter, looking down at her fingers that were and are still threaded around yours. “So, what are we now?”
“Whatever you want us to be,” Nagyung says.
You stare at her silently, the words she had just spewed to your ex downloading into your mind.
“Nakko. I don't want to be your friend anymore. Nor do I want you to be my friend. I want you.”
She looks at you with a raised eyebrow, egging you to continue.
“I’ve been perpetually in love with you, but I just didn't want to admit it. I know you like me, but I didn’t trust my judgement. I just wanted your—”
Nagyung cups your face and smashes her lips onto yours.
She holds on to your tongue with her lips, her own flicking and swirling around yours as she kisses you hard. She steals your breath, your saliva, and your sanity, drinking them in as if it were what she had wanted since god knows when.
And you think you're god, because you've known it since forever, but you were just lying to yourself. The fuse has been lit, the bullet has been shot. You have now progressed past friends and handholding, and you want more.
You moan into her lips.
“Nakko…”
She licks your lips harder and digs into your mouth deeper.
“I want more.”
She pulls you off her, a thick string of saliva connecting between you two.
“I need more.”
“Then take me.”
You press your body forward, but she holds you off.
“Not here. I don't want our first time to be in this god damned kitchen.”
She holds on to your hand.
Fuck. It's the third time this night, or dawn, or pre-morning, whatever. It’s the third time your hand was held this night alone, and it feels so damn good. It makes your heart warm and fuzzy, and you feel as if you won't ever be alone again.
She guides you out of the kitchen into D10, settling into the seat.
“Tell me,” Nagyung says. “Tell me what you love about me.”
“You're so kind—”
“Shhh. Not those. I already know why you fell in love with me. I want to know what you love about me. Tell me what you were thinking when you stared at me earlier.”
You stand over her and bent down, breathing hot into her lips, forehead presses against hers. You lean in and give her a small peck.
“You have the cutest face when you get mad.”
You lean in again, this time suckling her neck.
“You give me the hottest stares when you get mad.”
Nagyung raises her head as you attack her sensitive spots, humming softly.
“How can I be cute and hot at the same time,” she gasps, feeling you plant kisses down her neck to her shoulder bone, which was already kindly exposed courtesy of her off-shoulder outfit.
“Ask yourself,” you say, snaking your fingers into the hem of her top and peeling it down. You pull off her bra at the same time, letting the fabric bunch just below the curvature of her underboob.
“Perfect,” you mumble, already latching your mouth onto one tit. “Cute and hot like your face.”
Her back arches off the chair, hands clinging onto the arm rest as she shakes from the pleasure of being suckled. You draw circles around her nipples with your tongue, teeth grazing them lightly to give her a virgin dose of pain-pleasure.
“Tell me more,” she rasps.
You stick out your tongue and leave a trail of saliva down to her belly, spreading oral slime all over her toned abdomen. You kiss it with wet smacks, worshipping her like you've wanted this for so long.
“Fuck. You tummy, it's so tight. It tastes just like how I’ve imagined.”
“Y-You idiot. If you've been thinking and fantasising about me for so long, what took you so long?”
“I don't know. I don't care. I just know I need you right now.”
“Then take me.”
You grab on to her shorts and pull it down, throwing the obstructing fabric to the side. What's left is just a pair of laced thongs, the pink translucent sheer fabric doing nothing to cover the wetness of her pulsating core. You lean in to give a small lick, tasting her sweet tartness through the cloth.
“I can taste your desperation, Nakko.”
You pull and peel the panty to the side, and the smell of her sex wafts into your nostrils.
You dive in.
The first broad lick has her mouth open. A second swipe makes her groan. The third slurp makes her toes curl. You draw symbols of pleasure with your tongue, digging into her cunt like its a shovel excavating gold.
Her pussy is a trove. A treasure trove of unexcavated potions that have been reserved just for you. You stab your tongue deep and flick a moan out; carve it right to harvest a grunt; swirl in curves to draw a squelch; swat down to force a stream out.
You draw her cunt with your tongue as if you're keying into a controller the cheat code for her pussy juice, and it fucking works because you can't drink without stop.
Not a single drop can go to waste.
At this point, your lips are drenched. You pull them off her lips to which she gives a cutesy whine of disappointment, but you immediately force that back into her as you stuff her full again with a finger.
Then a second. A third. Soon, her pussy is gaping with your hand resting within its confines.
“Y-You’re stretch me so wide…” she moans, her eyelids fluttering as her pussy quivers around you. “She won't hold your hand. So… so I’ll hold yours. I’ll hold yours with my hand.”
She grabs your other hand and presses it into her mouth, sucking on your fingers hard.
“I’ll hold yours with my mouth.”
She looks at you and grunts.
“Look at it.”
You look.
Her folds are pulled taut on either side of your hands, and an endless amout of lubricant flows out of her sex hole.
“And I’ll hold yours with my pussy.”
Her words set you off. You curl and twist your fingers, feeling how she grips your hand like they're begging you to never let go, but you're also begging for her to not do so either.
Squelch. Splosh. Squish.
You fingers dance around and inside her like you're carving the juices out of her, and you're succeeding. Her toned belly starts to clench and relax. Her breath starts to grow ragged. Her nipples turn impossibly hard.
“I’m gonna cum,” she mewls, hands reaching for you, but she's too submerged in bliss that she clambers at nothing. She settles for the inhuman arms of the chair and cums.
Her pussy explodes as she orgasms, clenching down on you with crushing force as you work her through. She whines and squeals in ecstasy, juices flowing out of her without stop until her orgasm wanes into a hibernating hum.
You pull your hand out of her soaked pussy.
“You're a squirter,” you whisper in awe.
“Shut up, dummy,” Nagyung rasps in a trembling voice, but she's smiling. “I want more.”
She stands up and turns you around, pushing you into where she just sat. The cushion is wet, but that's the least of your concern. She unbuckles your belt with urgency and tugs your pants down, removing them and throwing it to the side. At the same time, you take pull off your shirt and drop it to the ground.
Your cock is already at its full length, swollen and angry at the lack of attention you both gave it.
Nagyung wraps one hand around it and gives it a few shallow strokes, feeling your intense hardness.
“You're so hard,” she marvels, drawing her hand up from base to tip.
“If it’ll make you feel more confident, I’ve never gotten this fucking hard for her.”
She trembles at your words, leaning into your ear and whispers.
“You hate this place, don't you? Don't worry about it. I’ll make this become your favourite place after tonight.”
She stands and walks to your pants, taking out your phone from within your pocket.
“Let's be cheeky,” she says, turning on your phone. “Password?”
“…”
“Password?”
“Your birthday.”
Nagyung giggles.
“Wow. Like wow. That, made me super turned on. I'm going to milk my cock so fucking hard.”
Your cock twitches from her declaration.
She unlocks your phone and calls your ex, setting it down on the desk beside.
“What the fuck do you want, loser? Are you going to apologise for what that stupid girl said to me?”
Nagyung smirks and stands over you, climbing up onto the chair. She rests her feet on either sides of your thighs, settling between the tight gaps of the cushioned seat.
“If you're going to apologise, I only take cash. Maybe two hundred? Since I'm kind—”
A moan rips through the air.
Your mind reels as Nagyung lowers her pussy down, swallowing your cock whole as she snugs her pussy walls around your shaft.
“—the fuck was that?!”
You grunt as Nagyung impales herself fully onto you, revelling in the sensation of being filled to the brim fucking with both the rationality in her cunt and her mind. She doesn't even give herself time to adjust to your size. She just bends forward and lifts her hips, drawing you out of her cunt. The moment your tip is the only thing left in her, she slams herself back down.
Slap.
As if she's reading your mind, she moans into your ears.
“I don't need to adjust. I’ll let your cock fuck the adjusting into me.”
As if the meat entering and exiting her is not enough, she smirks and bites onto your shoulder, nibbling on your flesh like it’s a piece of delicacy.
“Are you both fucking? How dare you call me when you are having sex?”
“Fuck—your cock feels so good inside of me,” Nagyung cries in pleasure. She straightens her back and grabs on to your hands, once again threading her fingers between yours.
“Gosh your hands feel so big and warm around mind. Fuck, if only she knew what she missed out on.”
“Fuck you both—”
“Kiss me,” Nagyung demands.
You pull her towards you and smash your lips on hers, eating her oral cavity with a voracious appetite.
She moans into your mouth exaggeratedly, letting the muffled and wet smacking fill the air, all while she slams her tight cunt down onto your cock. The sounds of depravity transmits through the microphone of your phone, amd the next thing you know, a soft moan comes through the speaker.
“Please… more…”
You let go of her hands and grip her voluptuous chest, squishing and kneading her soft mounds that rests perfectly in your hands.
“Your tits… they're so soft and perfect. Nothing like hers.”
You lean in and suckle on one, the now free hand snaking to her waist. Gripping tight, you pull her down onto you with more force, pushing your cock further into her, albeit not much.
However, that extra few millimeters strike her most sensitive spot.
Nagyung cries out in pleasure as you pound into her depths, pushing her voice past her limits as she screams and moans and mewls and squeals, saliva drooling out of her open mouth as her eyes roll to the back of her skull.
Her mind is a haze as you assault her pussy, sending her on the path to another orgasm.
She cums.
Her hand slaps your chest in need for more, begging for you to fuck her harder, to give her everything that should have belonged to her instead of the money grubbing bitch.
“Fuck… I bet your cock would feel so good in me too… nghhh…”
Your ex moans through the phone, but you treat it as an erotic backtrack that only serves to drive both your libidos higher.
You stand and flip push Nagyung onto the table, pressing her back into the desk as you kiss her hard. Your chest press against her tits and her hands scramble for support, knocking your phone onto the ground and several PC equipment off their balances, but neither of you care.
Your cock needs no help. You simply push forward, and the unimaginable hardness of your cock guides itself back into the scorching hot confines of her pussy, and you hammer into her with an agenda.
To make her yours forever.
“I think I'm going crazy for you, Nakko.”
You're reply with a soft moan and lust-drunk eyes.
“I think I’m stupidly in love with you, Nakko.”
You receive legs that wrap around your back.
“And I think I want to cum inside of you.”
She looks at you with glassy eyes and nod.
“Fuck me with your thick, fat cock. Make my pussy yours and yours only. Shoot your thick hot cum until I'm loaded with all your baby batter.”
Her words act like a spell, and you groan and thrust into her wanton cunt like nothing matters. Her pussy squelches as juices overflow from another orgasm, slicking your cock up only for you to pull and push harder.
“Nakko, please.”
She stares into your eyes and nod desperately.
“Please stop being my perpetual friend.”
You grab on to her hand and take her lips.
“Please be my perpetual lover.”
With a grunt, you roar and cum inside of her, filling her womb full of your white seed. Ropes and ropes of cum shoots out of your slit, painting and coating her walls like a promise that you’ll give to her for eternity.
When you're done, you collapse back onto the chair, your cock pulled out of her tenderised and swollen snatch with a wet plok. You watch as your cum flows out of her, pooling onto the table, but she reaches her finger down, scooping it up and stuffing it back into her pussy.
“I need more,” she whispers. “Plug me full again and make sure none of it ever comes out.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please, will you let me fuck your coc—”
You pick up your phone and hang up, proceeding to block her number.
You turn to her and look at the clock.
2.36 a.m.
“We open at 11,” Nagyung says. “Don't worry. We have plenty of time. And if you want, we could close the shop for another day. I have craved you since forever.”
You smile and rush forward to give her another kiss, pushing your now hard cock back into her creamed cunt again.
“This is now my favourite spot. And you're now my favourite food.”
And that—
Nagyung points to the pink heart keychain hanging off her bag in the kitchen.
Tags : 3 OC x Gaeul, creampie, squirting, BBC, Double Anal, Double Vagina, All Holes Filled, BBC
"If we keep staring at the luggage carousel this long, the bags are just going to start circling back to the beginning of the airport," Wonyoung said, leaning her head against the cold glass of the terminal window.
The airport was a chaotic pattern of rolling suitcases and distant announcements, a place where time seemed to stretch and compress simultaneously. For the five women gathered in a small, cautious huddle, the humidity of the city had already seeped through the sliding doors, clinging to their polished outfits. They had spent the last fourteen hours in a pressurized tube of silence and sleep-masks, crossing an ocean to reach a coast where everything felt scaled up by twenty percent. Even the signage seemed louder here, and the ceilings of the terminal vaulted upward into a dizzying expanse of steel and light.
"I think the black bags are the ones from the wardrobe stylists," Rei noted, pointing toward a mountain of oversized nylon cases that looked more like small tents than luggage. "Those are definitely ours."
Gaeul stepped forward to claim the first few bags, her movements efficient. They moved as a unit, a practiced choreography of coordination that had become second nature over years of stage performances. There was a lightness to their conversation, a shared excitement that hummed beneath the surface of their tired voices. They weren't here for a concert or a press junket, which lent a rare, relaxed quality to their energy. For once, the schedule wasn't dictated by a choreographer or a music producer, but by a simple invitation to experience something entirely different.
"I’m not sure if it’s the jet lag or the air, but everything here feels... amplified," Liz murmured, stretching her arms as they finally cleared the terminal. The transition from the sterile airport air to the waiting SUV felt like stepping into a different frequency. As they drove toward the arena, the city blurred past them in a smudge of neon and concrete, the skyline towering over them with a heavy, industrial confidence. They spoke in low, excited tones about the game, wondering if the players would actually be as tall as the highlight reels suggested.
The walk from the parking garage to the courtside seats was a gauntlet of flashing lights and booming voices. When they finally settled into their chairs, the scale of the arena hit them like a physical wave. The ceiling seemed to disappear into a haze of spotlights and hanging banners, creating a cavernous space that made their own presence feel suddenly, sharply diminished. They leaned into each other, shoulders brushing, as the crowd's roar vibrated through the floorboards and up into their chests.
Then, the players emerged for warm-ups.
Wonyoung blinked, her gaze traveling upward—and then upward again. "Are they... actually real?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thumping bass of the stadium music. A center drifted toward their section, his shadow stretching across the hardwood like a long, dark curtain. He wasn't just tall; he was a mountain of lean muscle and focused energy. Beside him, the point guards looked like giants, their movements fluid and explosive, occupying a physical space that seemed to defy the logic of the court.
"I feel like we're watching a movie in IMAX, but in real life," Liz whispered, tilting her head back so far that her ponytail nearly touched the seat behind her. She watched as a player executed a thunderous slam dunk during warm-ups, the rim shaking with a violent, metallic ring that echoed through the arena. The sheer force of the impact seemed to ripple through the air, a visceral display of power that made the girls instinctively lean back.
Rei reached over and lightly poked Gaeul’s arm. "Look at their hands," she murmured, pointing toward the players lining up for free throws. The basketball, which usually looked standard in their practice videos back home, seemed small—almost like a toy—nestled in the center of a palm that could likely cover a dinner plate. The contrast was startling; the players' fingers were long and tapered, yet the grip they held on the ball was absolute, a level of physical dominance that felt surreal from a few feet away.
As the first quarter began, the game shifted from a series of drills into a blur of high-velocity motion. The girls found themselves captivated not just by the score, but by the physics of the movement. They watched the way the players pivoted, their long limbs carving through the air with a grace that contradicted their size. Every time a center pivoted under the basket, the girls felt a collective sense of awe at the spatial geometry of the game; the players didn't just move around their opponents, they seemed to occupy the entire atmosphere of the paint.
During a brief timeout, a few of the players drifted toward the sidelines to catch their breath, bringing them within arm's reach of the IVE members. Up close, the scale was even more jarring. The players' jerseys were vast, the fabric stretching over shoulders that were broader than the seats the girls were sitting in. Wonyoung found herself glancing up at the nearest player, realizing that even while seated, she was nearly eye-level with his waist. She laughed softly, a genuine sound of amusement, as she realized how tiny her own handbag looked resting on her lap compared to the massive athletic sneakers just inches away.
The buzzer sounded with a final, jarring vibration that seemed to shake the very foundations of the arena. The scoreboard flashed a blinding victory, and as the crowd erupted into a deafening roar, the announcer’s voice boomed through the rafters, naming Jadon as the game’s MVP. He had spent the fourth quarter playing like a force of nature, gliding across the hardwood with a terrifyingly efficient grace, turning the game into his own personal highlight reel. After the final whistle, the court became a whirlwind of flashing cameras and microphones as the press swarmed him for the post-game interview. Jadon handled the attention with a humble, easy-going grin, his voice deep and resonant even through the stadium's lingering echo.
Once the reporters finally cleared a path, Jadon didn't head straight for the locker room. Instead, he pivoted, his oversized sneakers squeaking against the floor as he made a beeline for the courtside seats. As he approached, the girls felt a sudden shift in the air; it was as if a storm front had moved in, the sheer physical mass of the athlete blocking out the arena lights. He stopped in front of them, towering over them like a skyscraper of sweat-soaked jersey and muscle. He looked down at them with a warm, genuine smile that reached his eyes, his presence filling the space between them with an unexpected gentleness.
"Thank you for coming out tonight," Jadon said, his voice a low, melodic rumble that seemed to vibrate in the girls' chests. "It’s not every day we have guests from across the world in the front row. I hope the game lived up to the hype for you all."
The girls were momentarily speechless, glancing up at him in a synchronized, wide-eyed fashion. Wonyoung was the first to recover, giggling as she looked up at the MVP. "The scale of everything is just... incredible," she admitted, gesturing vaguely toward the court. "We've seen the games on TV, but seeing you move in person is like watching something from another planet." Jadon laughed, a rich sound that seemed to shrink the distance between them, and for a few minutes, they fell into an easy, lighthearted conversation. He asked them about their journey from Korea and joked about how he hoped the jet lag wouldn't make them fall asleep during the next quarter, while the girls shared their genuine amazement at the sheer physicality of the NBA.
Throughout the chat, Jadon’s attention kept drifting back to Gaeul. While the other members were reacting with high energy, Gaeul had watched the game with a quiet, focused intensity, her eyes tracing the strategic movements of the players. She had asked him a specific question about the defensive rotation in the final two minutes—a detail that showed she hadn't just been watching the spectacle, but the craft. He looked at her, his expression shifting from polite host to genuine curiosity, noting the calm, steady way she held his gaze despite the massive height difference.
The conversation slowed for a heartbeat, the noise of the emptying arena fading into a dull hum around them. Jadon shifted his weight, leaning in slightly, though he still towered over her by nearly two feet. "You know, most people just talk about the dunks," he said, his voice dropping to a softer, more personal tone. "But you actually noticed the rotation. That’s rare."
He paused, a playful glint in his eye as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, which looked like a miniature toy in his massive palm. He looked at Gaeul, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I’d love to hear more of your thoughts on the game—maybe over a meal that isn't stadium food. Would you mind giving me your number?"
"The photos you uploaded yesterday came out so pretty."
It was the final fan sign event for BABYMONSTER's current promotion. Her small, delicate fingers were intertwined with mine as she gave me a cat-like eye smile. A flawlessly clear and beautiful face, overflowing with affection for her fan. But I was so lost in thought that I couldn't even feel the soft touch of her hand in mine.
Asa had no idea. She didn't know that I had discovered the filthy, depraved truth behind this beautiful fairy.
I never cared for idols in the slightest. I was just killing time in the military barracks, blankly watching a music show like everyone else, when I was helplessly drawn in by Asa's languid, feline gaze on stage. Ever since I visited her pre-recording during my first leave like a man possessed, the center of my universe was solely Enami Asa.
After my discharge, I blew all my savings on fan sign lottery tickets. I worked day and night to buy a ridiculously expensive camera body and a telephoto lens. Just capturing her radiant figure with my eyes wasn't enough. I became a 'homma', taking pictures of her myself, and Asa became a piece of my life.
That was why I never dared to cross the line. Even though I was a virgin who had never so much as held a woman's hand, I could never bring myself to use Asa as an outlet for my dirty lust. Thanks to military life, I had too much stamina and desperately needed a way to relieve my pent-up urges. So, I turned to the NSFW accounts on X (Twitter).
Last night was no different. I had just finished showering, leaned deep into my computer chair, and pulled down my pants when a new post notification popped up for my absolute favorite account. As always, the face was cleverly cropped out, showing off a breathtakingly slender body from the neck down. It was a Japanese account: [im_ane].
[ I'm leaking so much pussy juice again today, it's a problem💕 Ane needs a Master to fill up her tight cunt💕 ]
Looking at the photo paired with that slutty caption, my cock instantly got hard. I gripped my shaft, ready to stroke it, when my eyes locked onto the woman's chest.
A leather choker wrapped around a pale neck, with a large black heart pendant hanging from a thin silver chain. An accessory so familiar it haunted my dreams. It was the exact necklace I had stayed up for nights handcrafting as a birthday gift for Asa just a while ago.
'...No fucking way.'
My gaze shifted from the necklace down to a mole on her right collarbone. Asa's mole was on her left collarbone. But Asa always flipped her photos horizontally when posting on Weverse. How the hell did I only just notice this?
My heart began to pound out of my chest as I frantically scrolled through her past photos and videos. Then, on a whim, I read 'im_ane' backwards. Smooshed together, it spelled enami. She wasn't some Japanese girl named Ane-chan. She was Enami from Enami Asa. All the pieces clicked into place.
My ultimate bias was an exhibitionist slut on Twitter. She oozed sexual appeal on stage, but that wasn't enough for her—she had to sneak around acting like a complete whore behind the scenes. Something straight out of a man's filthy, depraved fantasy was playing out right in front of my eyes.
"...Is something wrong? Do I have something on my face?"
Asa, who had been staring intently at me, tilted her head like a cat looking at its owner. I snapped back to reality and gave her a warm smile.
"No, you just look so pretty today I spaced out for a second. Here, this is for you."
Keeping a firm grip on her left hand with my right, I reached out with my free hand and slid a carefully folded envelope across the table. On the outside, it looked exactly like the fan letters I always gave her. Except for one little detail: the name on the envelope wasn't 'To. ASA'.
[ To. ANE ]
"Thank you...!"
Smiling as she took the envelope, Asa's expression froze the exact second her eyes landed on those three letters. Cold sweat began to form on the hand intertwined with mine, and the bright smile she had worn the entire time completely vanished. As she slowly lifted her gaze to meet my eyes, I smirked at her.
"Ane-chan. Make sure you read it when you're completely alone. Got it?"
"Y... yeah, th-thank you..."
Leaving a petrified Asa behind, I moved on to the next members. I have no memory of what we even talked about. I didn't even try to stall for time to squeeze out an extra word like I usually did. My mind was entirely consumed with thoughts of what I was going to do with Ane... no, with Asa.
Once my turn ended, I went back to my seat, grabbed my camera, and watched Asa's face. As if she had completely forgotten her earlier panic, she was chatting and reacting perfectly with the fans in front of her. Truly a pro idol.
Whenever she had a spare second, she'd look into my lens and strike a pose. She even gave me the LOVE sign she always did. Seeing her maintain her composure and do her absolute best as an idol despite being terrified only made her look prettier. And that made me want to absolutely wreck her body even more. I was going to be her Master.
Coming home after the fan sign, I pulled the memory card from my camera, hooked it up to my computer, and transferred the files. Then, I sent a DM to the im_ane account with my home address and the photo of her doing the LOVE pose, telling her I was waiting. I had actually gone through with it, but my inner loser DNA kicked in, making me squat on my chair and bite my nails in sheer anxiety. I stared at the DM window for about 15 minutes before the 'Read' receipt finally popped up. Waiting for her to read it felt like an eternity, but waiting for her reply felt even longer. Just as cold sweat began to drip down my back, drowning in regret and wondering if I had made a massive mistake, a new message arrived.
'I can be there in about two hours.'
I clenched my fist and threw a silent uppercut into the air. Replying right away would make it feel like I was losing the upper hand, so I waited five minutes before typing back, 'Alright, got it.'
Feeling a weight lift off my chest, I zoomed in on the photos I took today to admire Asa's face. I was too distracted earlier to notice, but there was a tiny pimple on her left cheek. She must be exhausted from the comeback prep. It made my heart ache for her. And she was beautiful—so beautiful that words weren't enough. To think my goddess had a hobby of being a Twitter exhibitionist. Thank god she didn't get caught by some real scumbag. She was lucky it was a nice guy like me. Wait, lucky? What the hell was I even planning to do by calling her to my house?
What if we just had sex once? Wouldn't that count as gentle blackmail? Imagining Asa naked, I pulled up a full-body shot from today and zoomed in until her waist down to her thighs filled the entire monitor. What color is her pussy? Did she shave her pubes? Does she smell sweet? Right in the middle of these happy, filthy thoughts, the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong—
Asa was here. Has it already been two hours? I scrambled to open the door.
She wore an ivory short-sleeved blouse with a round collar, tied with a thin black ribbon. Paired with a black miniskirt, over-the-knee socks, and platform combat boots, the outfit perfectly complemented her lovely charm. But the moment I met those sharp, cat-like eyes glaring at me above her mask, I flinched.
"Someone might see me. I'm coming in."
Shoving past me, Asa stepped inside, stood in the middle of the room, and looked around. Stacks of BABYMONSTER albums bought for the fan sign lottery, Asa merchandise, my camera carelessly tossed aside just to check the photos, and my messy, unmade bed. I felt horribly exposed, as if my most pathetic secrets were laid bare. Did I make a mistake bringing her here?
As she scanned the room, Asa's eyes locked onto the monitor. The screen still displayed the massively zoomed-in shot of her lower half.
"Is this the kind of shit you come to take pictures of?"
"A-Asa, wait... it's not what you think..."
"Turns out you're a complete piece of trash."
At her cold words, I dropped my head, completely speechless. Blackmail wasn't something just anyone could pull off. Was a loser like me out of his depth from the start?
Looking visibly irritated, she aggressively ripped off her mask, sat on the edge of my bed, and crossed her legs. Her skirt rode up, exposing her pale, smooth thighs. Asa crossed her arms and glared up at me. Terrified of her gaze, I kept my head down, hands clasped together, staring at the floor.
"Hey."
"Y-Yes?"
"Take off your pants."
"Huh?"
Thinking I had misheard, I just blinked at her dumbly. But Asa drove the nail in with a freezing tone.
"I'll give you one handjob, and in exchange, you pretend you don't know anything about this from today onwards. Take them off, you retard."
Swallowed whole by Asa's sudden transformation into a domineering queen, I unbuckled my belt and dropped my pants as if possessed. My pants fell to my ankles, blatantly exposing my worn-out underwear with its stretched-out waistband. Ah, of all the days, why was I wearing these? My face felt like it was going to explode from the shame.
"Take those off too." She pointed down, looking at me like I was literal garbage.
"W-What do I take off..."
"Your underwear. You're a virgin, aren't you?"
Bullseye. How did she know? Is she psychic? I hesitated before pulling down my boxers. Despite being completely intimidated by her, my cock sprang free, throbbing and rock-hard. It was the first time in my life I had ever whipped out my dick in front of a woman, and I never imagined it would be like this, right in front of my ultimate bias. Asa smirked, one corner of her mouth curling up as she eyed my shaft with amusement. She beckoned me closer with her index finger.
"Come here."
I realized in my bones that this was not the blackmailer-and-hostage dynamic I had pictured, but I couldn't refuse her command. Covering my junk with both hands out of shame, I stepped closer. She gestured toward the bed with her chin.
"Lie down on your back."
Like a good, obedient dog, I laid back on the bed. My hard length stood rigidly straight up toward the ceiling as Asa's small, pale hand reached out.
"For a loser, your cock is uselessly big."
The moment her hand wrapped around my hot shaft.
"Hngh...!"
My hips jerked up involuntarily as a beastly groan escaped my lips. It was on a completely different dimension from my own rough hands that I'd used my whole life. It was the touch of a woman—so small, soft, and cool. Gripping my cock firmly, Asa began to slowly stroke her hand up and down my length. Every time the taut foreskin stretched over the head and then slid back, an electric jolt of pleasure shot straight up my spine.
It only took a few strokes before a thick glob of slick pre-cum oozed from the tip.
"What's this? You have a premature-ejaculation cock? Lol."
Asa giggled, mocking me in amusement. She used her index finger to play with my pre-cum, stretching it out like thin spiderwebs. Then, she grabbed my shaft again and used her thumb to smear the slick fluid all over the sensitive head, stimulating it.
"Hnn...! A-Asa, wait..."
Experiencing brain-melting pleasure for the first time in my life, I instinctively grabbed her wrist.
"Who the hell told you you could touch me?"
Startled by her vicious reprimand, I snatched my hand back immediately.
"S-Sorry..."
"You're absolutely not allowed to cum until I give you permission. Got it?"
"Y-Yeah, got it... But, it feels so good I think I'm going crazy..."
As the intense stimulation continued, more pre-cum constantly leaked out and dribbled down my shaft. In the quiet studio apartment, the only sound echoing was the lewd, sloppy friction of my pre-cum and Asa's soft palm rubbing together. My ultimate bias was sitting on my bed, jerking my cock. The destructive synergy of visual and tactile pleasure was completely beyond what a virgin like me could handle.
An unbearable urge to cum surged through my cock, which was now so hard it felt like it would burst.
"A-Asa... I think I'm going to cum."
"No. I told you not to cum without my permission."
"A-Ah! Ugh! But, I...!"
"Hold it. No!"
"S-Sorry, Asa! Haaah—!"
In the end, despite her protests, the tightly wound string of my sanity simply snapped.
"Kyaaah—!"
Thick, hot ropes of white cum erupted from the tip of my swollen head. Shooting upwards with enough force to practically hit the ceiling, the semen splattered all over my chest and stomach. A few thick, heavy ropes shot wildly, miserably splattering across the pale cheek and ivory blouse of Asa, who had been looking down at me defenselessly.
"Asa, I-I'm sorry... nngh, haah..."
I needed to apologize to Asa, who was completely freaked out and shocked, but my hypersensitive cock was still trapped in her small grip. As the aftershocks of my climax clashed with the slippery feeling of her palm, my hips spasmed uncontrollably, and I couldn't stop throwing rope after rope of cum into her hand.
Asa gasped and froze at the sudden bombardment of my cum. Her pretty face quickly contorted in disgust, and she roughly wiped the thick, white fluid streaked across her cheek with her fingers, spitting out a low curse.
"Haa... fuck."
"I-I'm sorry..."
Having spewed my cum like a wild beast, my senses returned to me, and I shrank back in terror.
"Where are the tissues?"
"Y-Yeah... over, over there on the desk..."
Asa stood up irritably, yanking out some tissues to wipe her face and hands. I just lay there on the bed, unable to run away, helplessly watching her. Despite having just blown my load, the cock between my legs was completely unbothered, still throbbing with veins and pointing straight up at the ceiling.
After roughly wiping off my cum, Asa's gaze swept over my desk and landed on a box of condoms sitting between my speakers. A wicked smirk curled on her lips.
"Ha! Did you buy these thinking you'd use them on me? I thought you were a kissless virgin?"
"N-No... it's not that, I was just curious what it felt like to wear one, so I bought them to jerk off with..."
"Lol, what a fucking pathetic loser. ...Wait, what's this? Why is that thing still hard?"
A strange curiosity and an undeniable heat flashed in Asa's eyes as she looked down at my rigid, cum-smeared cock. Pinching a condom packet between her fingers, she prowled back to the bed with the lithe steps of a cat.
"Want me to pop your cherry for you, too?"
"W-What...?"
"If you want it, call me 'Master'."
You might think a man should have some pride, that he could never call a woman his 'Master'. But that pathetic little thought evaporated in a fraction of a second. Panting from the agonizing ache in my balls that felt ready to burst, I clasped my hands together and begged.
"M-Master... Please, I'm begging you."
Pleased by my miserable submission, Asa let out a satisfied laugh and climbed onto the bed. She lightly sucked on my cock, her mouth cleaning off the leftover cum, before tearing open the wrapper and rolling the condom down my shaft. Then, she stripped off her blouse and skirt, slowly and deliberately taking off her matching black lingerie set just to show off to me. My ultimate bias, entirely naked and pristine. She spread her own pussy lips, grabbed my cock, aligned it with her entrance, and dropped her hips down in one swift motion.
"Hnnn...!"
"Haaht...!"
A suffocating pressure and blistering heat swallowed my cock whole. Feeling the tight, narrow walls of a woman for the very first time, beastly groans erupted from both my mouth and Asa's at the same time.
Asa flinched for a moment, as if shocked by my ignorantly large size, but soon began rolling her hips and moving up and down. It was maddeningly euphoric. My goddess, who I used to only see through a screen, was panting as she took my cock deep inside her.
But for someone with a frame as fragile as Asa's, riding on top drained her stamina fast. After bouncing her hips roughly a few times, she seemed to hit her limit, collapsing her sweat-drenched head against my chest, gasping for air.
"Haa... haa, I'm too tired... You fuck my pussy now."
"W-What do I do?"
"Hah, you retard. Get on top and fuck me."
With a heavily flushed face, Asa snapped at me, flipping over to lie flat on her back on the bed. Between her completely spread, pale thighs, her glistening, juice-drenched pussy was fully exposed. Her raw, pink slit twitched and gaped as if trying to hypnotize me.
"Now, put it in."
The moment the command dropped, I thrust my hips like a wild animal, but like a true virgin loser, I just kept poking the wrong spots, completely unable to find the hole. After failing to penetrate three times and hitting a wall, cold sweat dripped down my face as I nervously checked Asa's reaction.
"Haa... Seriously, you fucking virgin. Put it right here."
Unable to stand the frustration, Asa reached down herself, grabbing my thick shaft and guiding it right against her wet entrance. I slammed my hips forward like a beast, and my cock drove flawlessly into her, burying itself all the way to her cervix with zero resistance.
"Haaaang—!"
Asa's back arched like a bow, her hands gripping the bedsheets like she was going to tear them apart. Seeing her react to my every move like a bitch in heat ignited a hidden sadistic urge deep inside me. I completely lost my mind, aggressively pumping into her like a madman, when suddenly—
Pop—
An unsettling, popping friction sound echoed from inside her. Startled, I pulled out, only to see that the condom hadn't survived the ignorant friction; the tip was miserably torn, leaving my bare head completely exposed. She must not have pinched all the air out when she rolled it on.
"U-Um, Asa... I mean, Master. The condom broke, what should I do?"
Soaked in pleasure, Asa's eyes were unfocused as she gasped and panted heavily.
"J-Just do it... Ngh, hurry..."
It seemed like stopping now would drive her crazier, so she gave me the green light to go bareback. I immediately ripped off that useless piece of rubber, tossed it aside, and ruthlessly rammed myself raw into Asa's blazing hot pussy.
"Haaht—!"
Just a thin membrane of a condom was gone, but a destructive wave of pleasure shot up my spine, feeling like it was melting my very brain. The vivid sensation of her hot, intricate inner walls tightly licking every inch of my exposed head. I gripped her impossibly tiny waist with both hands like I was going to crush it, pounding into her like an absolute madman.
"Master, I'm going to cum!"
"O-Outside... Cum outside!"
Right at the absolute edge, I barely managed to yank my cock out and spewed my cum all over Asa's slim, toned stomach. Maybe it was the sheer intensity of my first time having sex, but even though it was my second load, the ropes of cum blasted out with terrifying pressure, shooting past her stomach to sloppily splatter her pale cheeks and damp hair.
"Ah, sorry, I'm so sorry...!"
I frantically grabbed some tissues to wipe her face. Her mind completely blown by the pleasure, Asa just let me handle her body while she lay there gasping for air. ‘I actually just had sex with Asa.’ Just as I was trying to catch my breath in this utterly unbelievable reality.
"Haa.. Haa.. Don't you dare tell anyone about today. If you do, I really won't let you get away with it."
Since she was just whimpering underneath me a second ago, even her icy warning sounded like a cute, whiny pout. After resting for a moment, Asa stumbled up and bent over to slip her foot into her panties on the floor. In that instant, the gorgeous curves of her round ass and her puffy, pink pussy—which had just been swallowing my cock—filled my entire vision.
I literally heard the last thread of my sanity snap in my head. My softening dick instantly ballooned back up to bursting hardness. Before I could even think, I lunged at her like an animal, grabbing her hips and ruthlessly shoving my cock into her from behind.
"Aah?! W-What! Are you crazy?!"
"Master, I'm sorry. Please let me do it just one more time..."
"You fucking psycho, let go of me! This is rape! Ngh, ha, haaang—!"
Asa's screams about rape were instantly crushed into heated moans against the violent, overwhelming pleasure of a massive cock slamming mercilessly into her. Looking down at her fragile back and ass from behind poured gasoline onto the dark desire to conquer her burning inside me. Asa scrambled and braced her hands on the floor to try and crawl away, but that posture only presented her lower half perfectly to me, allowing me to batter her even deeper.
"Haa, haa...!"
I bred her like a wild animal, eventually spraying my third load directly onto Asa's back.
"Haa... Haa, do you really have a death wish...?"
Sprawled face down on the floor, Asa glared up at me, trying to catch her breath. But the scales of power had already been completely shattered. The terrifying thought that I might never be able to embrace this body again after today made me frantic. I scooped up Asa's body as she cursed and huffed at me, and hurled her back onto the bed.
"What are you doing! Aren't you going to stop?! Haaht—!"
Ignoring her screams, I buried my shaft between her spread legs once again. It was already my fourth erection so it wasn't as bursting hard as before, but Asa had already climaxed twice and was dripping so much honey that I slid right in without any issue.
"O-Oppa... P-please stop... I'm so tired, haang...! At... at least put on a condom. Please, haaht..."
At some point, the way she addressed me had changed from 'you' to 'Oppa'. Seeing the arrogant top idol crying and clinging to me like a whore underneath me was maddeningly adorable. I forcefully devoured the lips of the struggling Asa.
As if possessed, Asa wrapped her arms and legs tightly around my body and accepted my tongue. The most primal male instincts deep inside my DNA fired up like crazy. I wanted to leave my mark inside the womb of this pretty, arrogant little bitch. I wanted to breed her.
"Haa, Asa...!"
Slamming my head into the absolute deepest part of her cervix, I stopped pumping and completely unloaded a catastrophic amount of cum inside her. Thick, boiling hot seeds thoroughly filled up the most secret place of my ultimate bias, my goddess, before overflowing and spilling back out.
A few hours later.
"P-Please... Ahh, it's already the sixth time... I-I was wrong about everything. I'll... I'll let you fuck me again next time, so please, j-just stop... Haaht!"
I kept plowing into her until the morning sun began to rise outside the window.
Looking down leisurely at Asa, who was helplessly getting plowed underneath me, clutching the pillow and completely covered in tears and drool, I brushed her sweat-soaked hair aside and cupped her cheek.
Nakamura Kazuha x Kawai Ruka x M!reader
Tags: cunnilingus/pussy eating
WC: 3.9k
—————
On the bed, in or on the sheets, lights on or lights off, it’s eat or be eaten. Sort of. Or to be more specific, it’s either you eat pussy, or you will be fed it.
The pantherine performance of eating your partner out isn’t so much about roleplay or the more intense stuff (though who’s complaining?); sometimes, it’s just a matter of who and whom.
KAZUHA
With Kazuha, you ate. At least, until the moment you let yourself be consumed.
“Are you ready?,” Kazuha whispered, looking down across her torso. She wrapped her shins around your neck, pulling you closer as she locked them together. Already the sight made you hard, seeing the muscular curvatures form shadows in the dim light.
You grinned before leaving a slow, drawn-out drag of your tongue through her folds and right to her clit. “Of course I’m ready.” Kazuha let out a trembling sigh, grabbing your hair with both hands and pulled you in.
Jaguars are no laughingstock of the jungle: their bites have evolved to pierce the thick hides of thicker-skinned animals, their limbs powerful enough to lock them in place while they do.
You, on the other hand, held Kazuha’s thighs with force. They wrapped under and around the well-endowed muscle of her legs and ass – and for a woman like Kazuha, to hold her in her entirety was a feat.
So you lapped into her folds, licking up and up again as fast as you could. Kazuha held you tightly by the hair, wanting you to go deeper, harder – if such a thing was doable by your tongue alone.
“Anh, yes, just like that,” she gasped, thrusting her entire hip into your face and dragging all her fluids over you from nosebridge to chin. You could feel it pool and dry up at those spots, and feel them wet again as she let out ounces and ounces of slick onto you.
And you licked as hard as you could, sucking her pussy into your mouth, trapping it there purely by your vacuuming, and licking her clit.
“You’re so fucking good,” you hissed, before spitting into her already drenched folds. Strings of it spilled onto your cheeks, the pungent smell of your thirsty breath clinging to your face; it mattered little as you felt her fluids cake the same spots.
“You’re so fucking good, holy shit,” Kazuha gasped. One hand let go of your head, then the other, as she started grasping her chest. Though her breasts weren’t enough to fill her long, slender fingers, she still groped them with enough force, enough desperation you could see the skin redden as skin scraped against skin.
You let up for a second, allowing Kazuha some space to breathe. She breathed heavily as you planted kisses on the inner sides of her thighs, already streaked with the saltiness of spit from your mouth and sweat from the sides of your head. What little hair follicles remained stood up in bumps that dragged against your lips; all in all, the perfect sensory intermission for the both of you.
As you kept at it, her thighs loosened their grasp on your neck; you pulled her hips down ever gently, locking her into place, and inched closer once again into her folds. You knelt against the bed, planting her harder into the mattress and shoving your tongue deeper into her folds. You felt the taste of it sharpen and burn against your tender mouth muscle. You swore you could taste iron; even if you weren’t sure, you still pushed in, eyes closed in bliss.
You hummed as you dug deeper into her with your tongue. You scooped up into her walls, letting the obscene mixture inside her drip into your mouth. And drink you did gratuitously, as Kazuha’s formerly quiet breathing strained against the pillow she held to her mouth.
“You close, baby?,” you smiled, locking your eyes into hers. In that moment, as she paused her moaning and having absorbed all the pleasure, she smiled with renewed fire in her eyes.
For the record, in case you were mistaken, you were not the jaguar here.
Kazuha suddenly locked her thighs around your head, until your ears rang and your vision blurred. Her nails started pressing against your scalp; you found yourself catching your breath, or trying in between small centimeters of breathing space you fought for against Kazuha’s grip.
You fucking loved it, and gurgled into her sopping lips. Each bubble of frothy spit spread easily between your cheeks and hers, squelching as you rubbed your face aggressively into her.
“Fucking love that, huh?,” Kazuha laughed, the domina leaving her chest as shooking your head and face left and right, no other thought than her oral-induced orgasm.
“Fuck,” she whispered your name, “I’m so close, just like that–”
You pushed into her, trying to get her climax to happen (and free you from her ironclad grasp), but she howled while she held you still and choked. The only way out was through, and you licked, even when the only thing that could move was the top of your tongue. Each graze of it against her swollen bud made her yelp; her whole body trembled as you did, simultaneously chasing after and fighting against her collapse.
“I’m cumming, I’m cumming, ohh fuck!,” Kazuha whined, feeling her thighs and hips tremble at the touch of your tongue. The ringing around your ears fuzzed up your vision; there was only one thing you could sense left, and it was Kazuha, all of her.
“Cuhm,” you muffled into her, taking a deep breath and sucking her clit one last time, until the rigid surface of your tongue could graze all of her clit. One last tight grope of your scalp was the only signal you needed.
Kazuha let go of you as she raised her hip in the air sharply, everything in her trembling. It was like she was possessed, overcome by some primal spirit in her that urged her to groan with every twitch. Your head lay close to the bed, watching drops of her release drip onto the towel you set earlier and onto your cheeks and nose. You lapped them as they streaked down into your mouth, oozing out of her hole in a stream.
Slowly Kazuha came back down to your grasp, and you greeted her with a flurry of kisses around the inside of her thighs and her drenched, spunky pussy lips. Even then, with every cold contact of lips on squirt, she twitched until your chin dripped as much as she did.
She pulled you by the hair, pained as it was, to greet her lips with yours. She licked your face clean, tasting the fluid concoction of spit and squirt shared between your mouths. You savored every salty, tangy, sharp note; she did too, licking her lips with pride all over it.
“You’re so… so good at that,” Kazuha grinned, nuzzling her sweaty head onto your equally sweaty neck.
“Of course,” you sighed, running your hand along her long, still silky hair. “I love the taste of you.”
RUKA
With Ruka, you were fed, taking all of her in a single go – or rather, you were devoured all at once.
“Are you ready?,” Ruka giggled, looking down as she hovered over you. Her knees shuffled closer to your temples, while her hands ran up her waist and up her neck. Honestly, just watching her with her body made you twitch, but it was your anticipation that made you hard.
You craned your neck up to meet her clit before it fell upon you, and Ruka let out a pleased sigh. “Of course I’m ready,” you smirked.
In one go, Ruka dropped herself on you, not gently but with actual force. Your head and her entire body bounced against the creaking of your bed, and though you laughed with the slightest adrenaline rush ready to push her off, she caught your wrists and trapped them under her knees.
You pushed hard with your neck, your arms, even your torso, but Ruka smothered your face with her folds. With each thrust of her hips against the ridges of your head came heaves of ecstasy. She rode hard, even if slow, and each drag literally cut off your breath as she went over the entirety of your nose and mouth.
“Mmph, so fuckim goob,” you mumbled, sucking her folds in and forcing the tender tip of her clit out and onto your tongue. Your tongue scooped past it, tasting the sharper, warmer fluids inside her coat the top and bottom of the tip of your tongue.
In response, Ruka pulled your hair up and sank your face deeper into her – as if pulling you up could send you any deeper into her.
“You’re so fucking good, f–fuck,” she gasped. She would lurch forward in jolts of pleasure that appeared like signs of letting up, but not a chance – her grip stayed tight, on your hair, your head, your hands.
Such was the hunt of a leopard: cautiously waiting for her prey, then grabbing you and pulling you in. She hissed, clawed, squeezed you and wrung you of whatever sex you could spare into your tongue and your tongue alone, and fed on you just as much as you fed on her. Only thing missing was a tree branch she could hang you on and gobble your cock on, but that’s a kink for another time.
You bent your head up to breathe, the only way you could force Ruka to give you a chance to; she at least gave you that. She’d pet your hair, wipe stray trails of your fluid cocktail away – or across – your nose. She knew you loved her smell, and you never complained.
In turn, you did the one thing Ruka couldn’t: pull her closer to you as she grew sensitive. Though her thighs remained plastered to your face, it was by your firm grasp that she had nowhere else to take her arousal other than your mouth. And even when she begged you to slow down, perhaps to savor each bump and ridge grazing against her clit, you clearly wanted the opposite – to feel her drip and squirt all over you until it glazed your cheeks.
“Are you close, baby?,” you gasped, sinking your lips into her folds again, tongue pushed deep into her warmth. Ruka let out an obscene, guttural grunt, coupled with a laugh of shock – and these were not signs of goodwill.
“Oho, I’m gonna fucking cum all over your smug fucking face,” she taunted, all curves on her face slicing into you like guillotines.
In for the kill, Ruka let you go. She turned around, ass above your eyes and whole shins on your whole forearms, and sat back on you. The waft of the funkier-than-usual air meant nothing when your tongue was now buried deeper inside her. You kept at it, tongue swirling in slow, strained circles, because it was the only thing you could do in her clawed grasp.
Ruka, on the other hand, made you want to bury yourself deeper, not that you didn’t already, but motivating you to keep going. She held you by the sides with clawed fingers, the dread of the ticklish sensation one has from getting poked keeping you on edge. You felt beads of sweat and spit – only differentiated by viscosity – drip onto your chest, and trail closer to your erect cock as she hovered right over it, . You wrung your hands free and clung to her ankles; it did nothing to slow her.
“That’s it, yeah,” she laughed, riding your face with gusto. Her thighs clamped on your ears. You were basically in darkness darker than the dark room, eclipsed by her firm ass and drenched pussy turning your face into her perfect little ribbed toy.
You tightened your grip, even bringing them up and grabbing the whole meat of her thigh from below. Her hands snaked to her asscheeks, sliding down into your hair and pulling you in tighter. At this point she may have fully absorbed you into her with each newton coursed through your strained follicles – and you weren’t complaining.
“Hah, hah, fuck,” Ruka heaved, confident chuckles slowly undoing into deeper moans. Each groan turned into a yelp, every other yelp turned into a howl, and the slow-but-hard grinding became the fast-and-frantic frenzy you craved. Your nosebridge and your lips ceased to be anything beyond the topological features with which Ruka’s cunt craved the stimulation of pressure.
And like a pair of jaws closing in, her legs raised her torso with its own strength, the muscle flexing and squeezing your ears to your skull.
All that was left – the lone thing that could be done – was to beg her to sink into you.
“Cuhm,” you blubbered into her with a guttural groan. With one last burst of energy, you freed your hands and climbed up against her thighs, pulling yourself to meet her sopping wet folds as they trembled with the full twitching of her lower half.
Ruka flicked her clit about as she rode out her orgasm with your face, the stimulation forcing out a light sprinkling of her squirt – a rarity for moments of extreme arousal, only ever climaxing in this manner by your own hand. Yet every droplet on your forehead, your tongue, your cheeks was undeniably hers.
Ruka fell to the side with a creaky thud on the bed, the beast in her satiated and ready to digest. She giggled as she stared at you, also on your back and drenched in more than sweat.
“You’re so good at this,” she sighed, her smile softening from thrill to wonder.
“Of course,” you sighed, reaching out for her hand to rub it gently. “I love the taste of you.”
KAZUHA + RUKA
Don’t get it mixed up: jaguars and leopards are very different big cats. Jaguars hunt, leopards ambush, both . Kazuha and Ruka made that distinction evidently clear. But when clad in black, they’re both black panthers – and like their feline analogues, they attack together.
“Think he’s ready?,” Kazuha smirked, petting your head between her womb and Ruka’s, moaning as Ruka’s fingertip grazed gently against her clit still enclosed in her black panties.
“Of course he is,” Ruka exhaled excitedly, already moist and aroused as you planted kiss after kiss on the fabric. She pushed your face into what was the smooth surface of her pubis, trapping your nose and halting your breath; when she let go and you gasped for air, the pair giggled.
“What was that?,” Kazuha taunted, turning your head towards her hips – equally smooth, equally hot, equally aroused – and pushed you in deep. You could count every second she intended to keep you in: three seconds, five seconds, ten. You groaned as you struggled, but it only made them chase after your tongue harder.
Ruka ran a hand up Kazuha’s abdomen, her pointer finger tracing its toned ridges; merely watching her nail depress against the paper thin layer of fat against her curves almost had you dizzy from the blood rushing to your cock. To watch Kazuha do the same with her fingertips across Ruka’s abdomen had you frenzied, desperate. You shoved a hand into your boxers; Ruka skillfully pulled the garter of your shorts down between her toes, forcing your barbaric display of arousal into public view.
Kazuha pressed your dick onto your groin and away from your hands. “You’ll have your turn, baby,” she teased, and you clenched your fists against your thighs in submission. There were no words necessary from your mouth – your tongue, lips, and breath belonged elsewhere.
You gently worked the cloths away from their cores, peeling them off to the sting of evaporating arousal against your nose. You knew, from the first time they asked you to do exactly this – eat them out together instead of individually – that the anticipation and the spectacle was what they wanted. Not of your face drenched in their liquids – in reality, it was the fingers on abs and clits, the passing around of your head, bearing witness to the other undone.
You went for Ruka first, sucking her pussy hard and flicking her clit with the tip of your tongue from left to right; she ran a hand into your hair, grabbing hard and thrusting her hips into your face, like an actual proper facefucking. Kazuha giggle as she watched, her fingers tauntingly brushing around your earlobe and down the ridge behind your jaw. The traced line made you shudder.
“F-fuck, he’s s-so good at this,” Ruka gasped, eyes shut as she craned her neck up. Kazuha leaned in and left light, smackless kisses, only working to elevate Ruka’s arousal.
You paused to catch your breath, looking over at Kazuha’s folds, glistening with her arousal. You could have caught yourself, mouth wide open and silently begging, but a light slap her way cut your arousal-fueled haze short.
“I’ll have my turn too, baby,” Kazuha chuckled, rubbing the spot she patted you on, before shoving your head back into Ruka. Ruka yelped the moment you crashed into her.
Again you lapped at Ruka, the flavor of her coating the inside of your cheeks. She hollered and buckled as you licked up against her clit, already straining your tongue but fully focused on savoring more and more of her.
Then Ruka pushed you off, and shoved you into Kazuha, shocking her with a short laugh.
“Hah, you’re not… gonna make me cum that… quickly, baby,” Ruka leaned over and whispered into your hair. “Fucking eat her out. I know you wanted her so bad.”
“Y-yes,” you and Kazuha groaned together, prompting the two ladies to laugh. You wrapped your arms around Kazuha’s thick flexed thighs, feeling the muscle tense and pulse as you used your bottom lip to pinch her clit. Looking up, you watched them as they admired each other’s dainty, well-nestled breasts, hands straying over arms and abs, groping asses and tits in handfuls. You were dizzy as your cock pulsed in yearning excitement.
Kazuha’s normally sly smile had relaxed agape. It was now Ruka who licked and held her head in one hand and yours in another, pleased as Kazuha bit her lip to subdue her high-pitched squeals of climax.
“F-fuck, s-so– keep doing that,” Kazuha gasped, looking down at your with desperate eyes. She hummed as her yelps turned breathier and heavier, as if struggling to hold it all back.
“You’re so hot,” Ruka scratched your head, “I love watching you eat her out.” She looked at Kazuha. “And you look so hot when you’re ready to cum.”
“Mmmh!,” Kazuha pressed her lips together, hurriedly pushing you away and into Ruka. She trembled aggressively, her face contorted, pained from the aggressive denial. She looked at Ruka for a full heartbeat, and sank her lips into hers, and the way her hands grabbed Ruka’s face gave away the exact state of mind she was in. You took it upon yourself to meet Ruka as well, digging into her with your mouth, hands wrapped around her legs tightly.
Ruka moaned into Kazuha’s mouth as hands shifted places: Kazuha grabbed Ruka’s breast with one and pulled her in with another, while Ruka had a hand past you and on Kazuha’s clit, the other pulling you in. As earlier, the tides shifted with you joining Kazuha to work Ruka, the way you joined Ruka earlier.
The taste in your mouth was now an entirely different mixture, a unique flavor that can only be had in your unique situation: the liquid nectar of two very horny, very beautiful ladies desperate for a muscle that wasn’t your cock, mixing together with the copious salivation of your own hunger.
“Sh-shit,” groaned Ruka, legs now trembling. She began to crouch, allowing you to dig deeper into her core, tasting the same sharp taste from the smooth, slimy flesh inside her. She pulled on your head with both hands, barely managing to use her concentration to hold her grasp on you as her barriers collapsed.
“Wahn youhr cuhm,” you mumbled. “Wahn bohf of you–,” you let go of her, “want both of you to cum on me, please.”
Moans turned into giggles in a snap.
Kazuha pulled you in, Ruka fingering her and herself, as you made full licks, from root to tip of your tongue, against Kazuha’s swollen core. It was starting to drip on your shoulder and down her thighs, but you kept at it. Kazuha’s squealing returned once again, her legs trembling just as hard, and with one final grip of her thighs, she shook violently. You felt the thick, creamy liquid ooze out slowly, lapping as much as you could and swallowing it all, before shifting to Ruka.
With Ruka, Kazuha focused more on stopping herself, slapping her own pussy lips more aggressively, trying her best not to collapse too quickly. With all your focus, you grabbed Ruka again, already very wet and howling, rubbing your entire face, nose and all, against her lips. She jolted hard – once, then twice – before letting out one last, heavy groan that strained against her throat.
And finally, the end of the frenzy.
The two grabbed your hair with one hand each, the other aggressively swiping their fingers against their reddened lips. They locked their upper lips while they did, moaning all manner of high-pitched profanities into each other, not so much kissing but syncing their shared climax together. You excitedly waited for it all, still half-sitting on the floor and stroking your very erect cock with all the spit and goop that had dripped onto your groin. And, for good, entertaining measure, you stuck your tongue out.
Kazuha and Ruka squirted all over your face, the liquid stinging as it splashed onto your cheeks, your tongue, your lips, and all over your chest. They moaned one after the other in symphony, roaring at the intense overstimulation they brought themselves to. Their fingers were coated in a cloudy white that you wished to yourself they’d shove into your mouth, and they did without you needing to ask. You swallowed it all, feeling the minuscule dollops fill your gut.
The liquid orgasm, the erotic feast you partook in kept you stroking, bucking your hips forward, your face contorting like they would as they hungered over your cum. They knelt down to your level as they caught their breath, hands wandering all over you as you jerked yourself off to your climax.
“Cum for us,” Ruka begged, hands slippery with your shared liquids.
“We want it,” Kazuha smiled, licking her lips for your arousal. You knew what was coming, and they knew it too.
You spurted all over your hands, squelching in between your fingers. The two were quick to share your hand, tasting your own release – and theirs – all over their own tongues. You watched them savor it with glee, humming and giggling, as you laid down in exhaustion, breathing in while you still could.
The girls looked at each other, not pleased, but excited.
“Ready?,” Kazuha taunted you, lying down on her stomach, mouth now just a breath away from your still drenched cock.
“Feeding time,” Ruka grinned, grabbing your base gently.
Don’t forget: you were never the predator here. You were always going to be their prey.
you can also read this at Fanprose with the same title: Managing the Spotlight
It's been a year since I first met Eunchae. Crazy how it all started, like fireworks going off in the middle of a storm. We've gotten closer since then, if you can call sneaking around and fucking "getting closer."
We text every single day. I send her dumb memes and screenshots I know will piss her off—she always fires back with something equally annoying. And yeah, sometimes she sends me those private pics that get me instantly worked up. Not gonna lie, those always hit different.
Same routine as always sent her a couple dumb memes right before my morning class, just to give her something to laugh at while I’m stuck in lectures. By the time she hit me back, it was already afternoon. Just a waving sticker at first, then before I could even type anything, she hits me with: "You miss me already?"
I fired back with "Nope," but we both knew that was bullshit. The reply came way too fast.
We went back and forth like that for a while, until she suddenly dropped a mirror selfie on me. Off-shoulder white top, loose jeans, one hand hooked on her belt buckle like some kind of cowboy. No warning, no context. Just ~BOOM! There she was, looking stupidly good, and my brain short-circuited for a couple of seconds. Couldn’t even come up with a reply. Damn her.
They keep texting me until I finally get home, alone again. Parent's off on another work trip overseas. Seriously, I wish she was here right now.
Feeling kinda mopey, I end up texting "I miss you" without even thinking. I was about to hit delete when her reply pops up: "I miss you too." My face goes hot and I just collapse onto my bed. Then she adds, "Text you later, just wrapping up some stuff," and suddenly I'm stuck there, all flustered and grinning like an idiot.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, heart pounding. "What the hell.. did I actually send that?" The text stared back at her, undeniable.
A sharp knock interrupted her panic. "Eunchae-ah, you ready?" Manager-nim’s voice cut through the door. Like she’d ever say no, Hong Eunchae didn’t half-ass rehearsals, even if her brain was currently short-circuiting over a dumb text.
Practice with ILLIT and Katseye was brutal but fun, their new track "Iconic by Mistake" demanding every drop of energy. Between laughing at inside jokes and nailing formations, she almost forgot about her phone, almost. The practice video wrapped, dinner got inhaled, and by the time she collapsed onto the dorm couch, her notifications were flooded with Luc’s usual nonsense: memes, cursed TikTok edits, that one clip of a screaming raccoon she’d sent him last week.
She thumbed out a lazy "you up?" just to watch the typing bubbles appear, vanish, then reappear after a painfully long pause.
*Was about to sleep*, he finally replied. She could practically hear his stupid smirk through the screen.
"So I'm free Thursday. Wanna get lunch or whatever?"
"Only if you were free..that is." She texted.
"Sure, my grades aren't gonna slip coz I skip one day," he replied.
"Don't be an idiot, Luc."
"I'll gladly be your idiot.😜" Luc fired back at her.
"Pabo!" she shot back, grinning like an idiot herself, a mistake when Unnies were lurking.
"Manchae's texting her boyfriend again~" Yunjin sang, draping over the couch arm.
"Yah! It's not—" Eunchae chucked a pillow at her, but the damage was done. The dorm erupted into chaos.
Eunchae retreated into her room, waiting until she heard the dorm settle down before grabbing a towel to clean up.
But then she paused, catching her reflection in the mirror. Still wrapped in just that towel, she lifted her phone and snapped a quick pic. Just as she lowered it, the bathroom door creaked open.
Kkura stood there, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. She took one look at Eunchae's guilty grip on her phone and smirked. "Damn. Whoever's got you sneaking around like this better treat you right."
"Yah! He's not~!" Eunchae huffed, face burning, but Kkura was already backing away with that same stupid, knowing grin.
Back in her room, Eunchae stared at the photo. Should she send it? Her thumb hovered—then slipped.
Luc was half-asleep when his phone buzzed. He blinked at the screen then choked. Eunchae, damp from the shower, towel barely hanging on. "Holy fuck," he breathed. But before he could even think to save it, the message was deleted.
"...Hey. What was that?"
"What was what?"
"The you know what."
"Nothing. Good Night, Luc." She hurled her phone onto the bed, face burning.
Somehow it was already Thursday.
Eunchae slipped out of the dorm and shot Luc a quick text: "Meet me at Banpo Park, don't be late."
Luc replied with “🫡”i,
then ten minutes later: "Here. Where are you?"
"Find me yourself, 😝" she replied.
He saw her over by the bridge, sprawled out under the trees like a cat soaking up the sun. sneaking up behind her, he tapped her shoulder with one finger extended, and when she turned, *boop*, right in the cheek.
"Hey," Luc said, grinning.
Eunchae smiled back. "Hey."
Up close, she's breathtaking. Without thinking, Luc reaches for her hand. Their fingers lace together as they walk along the river. After a quiet stretch, he nudges her. "Hungry? Wanna grab some food?"
Eunchae shakes her head. "Not really." So they keep walking through the park instead, Luc snapping a few candid shots of her.
She suddenly tugs his sleeve, lowering her voice. "If anyone asks, just say you're my manager, okay?"
"Got it~" Luc winks.
Eunchae bites her lip. "People might recognize me, and then..." She doesn't finish, already seeing the headlines in her head.
Luc ruffles her hair. "Relax. We've got this routine down by now."
"So, boss," he teases, "where to?"
She drags him into a convenience store by the wrist. They grab instant ramen, fried chicken, and sodas,microwave the noodles right there at the counter before sneaking off to an outdoor table. Eunchae strikes a few "professional" poses while Luc plays photographer, snapping pics of her pretending to review the food. Finally, they tear into it, chopsticks clicking between bursts of laughter.
Before it completely got dark, when Eunchae glanced at Luc.
He knew that look. Without a word, he cleared the table and reached for her hand. They walked silently to where he'd parked his parents' car.
The drive back to his place was quiet, the kind of silence that sits heavy between two people who know exactly what's coming. Before either of them could process the passing streets, they were already at his gate. He clicked the remote, pulled in, and parked the vehicle.
The door had barely locked behind them when Eunchae was on him, all hungry lips and clutching hands. Luc laughed into the kiss as he scooped her up, carrying her toward his room without breaking contact.
The smell hit her first that same mix of his cologne and laundry detergent from the first time. Definitely wouldn't be the last.
Her fingers were already yanking at his shirt. "Someone's eager," Luc murmured against her mouth.
"Shut up," she growled, biting his lower lip. "You know I could replace your ass anytime."
He kissed her forehead, slow and deliberate. "But you won't." The shirt hit the floor. Then hers followed.
Eunchae's pants hit the floor next, and she scooted back onto his bed, giving him that look—the one that said she wanted him.
Luc grinned, dropped to his knees, and took her feet in his hands, pressing soft kisses along them.
"Yah! Luc... what the hell?" she gasped, more startled than annoyed.
His mouth trailed higher, leaving kisses up her calves, her thighs—then a teasing peck right over her white panties before moving to her stomach.
His hands found her bra next, fingers kneading her small but perfect breasts.
Eunchae yanked Luc's head closer, their lips crashing together in another hungry kiss.
"Quit messing around, idiot," she breathed against his lips.
Luc smirked, his voice dripping with amusement. "Then say what you want." Like he didn't already know.
Luc kissed Eunchae's lips softly at first, then trailed his mouth down her neck, nipping at her skin like he wanted to leave marks. But he held back, she couldn't show up with hickeys, or she'd catch hell for it. Instead, he moved lower, teasing the edge of her strapless bra before tugging it free with his teeth.
Eunchae pulls his head closer, pressing his face against her soft chest. She loves how Luc teases her nipples—it always sends shivers through her, way more than when she touches herself during their tours.
Luc lets her guide him, his mouth finding her breast before nipping at her nipple playfully. He glances up at her face, watching as she starts to unravel from his little game.
God, he loved teasing her, he couldn't help himself, really. His free hand wandered over to her other breast, playing with it while Eunchae came completely undone beneath him, moaning his name like she couldn't hold back anymore.
And fuck, her white panties were soaked already, getting wetter with every second. Luc switched to her other breast, his other hand slipping down to press against that damp fabric, teasing her even more.
His fingers traced lazy circles over her damp panties, teasing the heat beneath.
"Luc..." Her voice hitched, breath catching as his touch lingered.
"Yes, baby?" He grinned, knowing damn well what she needed but loving how desperate she got when he made her ask.
Eunchae smacked his shoulder with a frustrated little groan. "Just eat me out already, you idiot!"
"With pleasure." His mouth followed the path his hands had taken, kissing lower, slower, cruelly slow until he nuzzled against the soaked fabric. He inhaled sharply, lips brushing her thighs before returning to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss right where she ached most.
"Fuck~ Luc, come on~!" Her hips jerked, fingers twisting in the sheets.
With a chuckle, his breath warm against her thigh, he slowly slid her panties down. He stopped for a second, grinning at the neatly trimmed patch of hair above her pussy shaped like a perfect little heart. "Cute," he muttered before burying his face between her legs.
His mouth found its way between her thighs, tongue teasing her clit until she was practically seeing stars. "Fuck yes, Luc!" she gasped, fingers tightening in his hair as she pulled him deeper, desperate for more.
She arches her hips up to meet your mouth, her breath catching when your tongue swirls around her clit before tracing down to tease her entrance. You grip her ass tight with both hands, pulling her closer as you bury your tongue inside her and fuck, the way she gasps, thighs trembling, tells you she’s already close.
Then she starts moaning your name, ragged and desperate, and you can’t resist slipping one hand free from her ass. Her pussy’s soaked, warm, and your fingers slide in easily, curling just right while your mouth keeps working her. The combo’s too much, she cums hard, back arching, and you grin against her when her climax pulses around your fingers before she squirts, slick and messy, right across your face.
She's grinning like crazy, totally lost in the moment as she comes down from her high. God, she's gorgeous like this, all unraveled and breathless. You lean in, kissing her soft lips as her arms loop around your neck. With a playful nudge, you roll her onto her side, lifting one of her legs just enough to tease her with your length, still pressed against her sensitive heat.
"Ready for the real thing?" you murmur, grinning down at her.
She lets out a breathy laugh, still catching her breath. "Took you long enough, dumbass."
You guide yourself with one hand, guiding it to her slick entrance. She's already so wet you slide right in without resistance, like she's been waiting for this. Her tight heat wraps around you, pulling you deeper.
"God, I missed this..." she breathes against your skin.
You start slow, savoring the way she shivers beneath you, then pick up the pace when her nails dig into your back. Soon she's falling apart all over again. Her mouth finds yours between gasps, both of you lost in the rhythm, the friction, this messy whatever you call it between you.
You gave her ass a playful smack a few times before she broke the kiss. Leaning in, you planted one more quick peck on her lips and murmured, "Get on all fours, babe."
She grins, shoving you back playfully before dropping onto her hands and knees, arching her back to put her ass on display. Her eyes lock onto yours, hungry for whatever you'll do next.
You flashed her a wicked grin before moving behind her, burying your face between her thighs without hesitation. She gasped as your tongue dragged through her wetness, tracing upward until you teased tight circles around her tight little hole.
"Luc what the fuck, no, that's~" Her protest cut off with a sharp inhale when your tongue pressed firmer, working her in slow, relentless circles. One sharp smack to her ass made her jerk, a broken noise escaping her throat.
Before she could recover, you hauled her close, crashing your mouth against hers, tongues tangling as she tasted herself on you. Then, with a rough groan, you pushed back inside her, deep watching her eyes roll back before she could even catch her breath.
You shoved her back against the bed, hips slamming harder now—she was wrecked, totally yours.
Her walls clenched around you tighter, and you smacked her ass once, twice, the sharp sound cutting through the room.
"Fuck you, Luc!" she gasped, but then whimpered, "Fuck me more, please..."
Like you’d stop. Every thrust buried you deep, pulling out just to sink back in, relentless.
Your thumb brushed her other hole, teasing, then pressed inside, she arched, crying out as she came again.
She was squeezing you so tight it almost hurt, but her wetness kept trying to push you out. You held firm, feeling her drip down your cock onto your balls.
You're right there with her, almost at your peak. Your thumb slides out of her ass as both hands grip her hips tighter.
You want to bury yourself deep and you do, pushing all the way in before letting go, filling her up as you come hard inside her. She feels it, warm and thick, mixing with her own wetness.
Your body collapses against her, exhausted. You press a kiss to the nape of her neck before she turns to face you, lips meeting again this time slower, softer, more intimate.
You roll off her and settle beside her, pulling her into your arms.
She turns to face you, burying her face against your chest.
"Dummy... dummy," she murmurs, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.
You tilt her chin up with your hand and press your lips to hers.
"But I'm your dummy," you say with a goofy grin one that makes her smile right back.
"I love you, Lee Jin," she murmured with that playful grin of hers.
You shot back instantly, "Nah, I love you, Hong Eunchae," dragging out her name just to mess with her.
She whacked your shoulder hard and huffed, "Since when do you use my full name like that?"
You just grinned, shrugging. "You started it."
And just like that, the two of you fell right back into your usual back-and-forth, half-teasing, half-flirting.
