#group x reader

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 155: Single mother to-be

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Ao3!

CWs: group sex; giving and receiving oral sex; knotting; degradation; impregnation/breeding kink; enthusiastic consent

A/N: This one was easier to write than I predicted! Thanks Red Anon for some really excellent fic suggestions that helped get the creativity flowing

#############################################

The two lupines stood over you. One was a tawny brown, the other a glossy black. You didn't know their names. What's the point? You were only interested in one thing from each other, and as you sat on your bed looking from one slavering wolf-man to the other, you were looking forward to taking it.

The wolves watched you, predatory eyes fixed on your body as you stripped in front of them. You took your time, feeling their gaze as you slowly removed your t-shirt, then your shorts, showing off your midriff. You stretched as you took off your socks, wiggling your toes while they stared at you.

They closed in on you, you feigned resistance as the black one undid your bra, the brown one peeling off your knickers. They were careful not to rip anything, hands at once rough and gentle. You let yourself be handled by them. Their tongues passed your lips as they kissed you, one after the other, groping hands squeezing your waist, your belly, your tits. They were all over you. Occasional brushes past your crotch made you shiver. Nobody wanted this over too quickly, and having a pair of lupines worshipping every inch of you is certainly one way to get in the mood.

You let them push you to your hands and knees, down on all fours with the black one behind you, the brown one in front. Somewhere in the jumble of limbs and tongues they'd both found the time to strip off too. The three of you stayed for a moment, panting, taking in the scene. Letting the fantasy wash over you.

The brown one ran his fingers through your hair, absent minded. His dark eyes stared down at you as you struggled to keep your gaze off his thick red cock, gently hardening in front of your face. He let your head, soft touches almost tickling your scalp.

Then he remembered what you wanted.

You yelped as his grip tightened on your head. A fistful of hair becomes a handle with which to pull you in. You couldn't keep the grin off your face when his balls dragged across your face. Your hand strayed between your legs, opening your lips to the wolf behind you.

He didn't need any more instruction. A wide, flat tongue slid over your slit, tasting you as it slid over and around your crotch. His attention made your toes curl, your clit pulsing and throbbing. Waves of static pleasure lapped against your mind as his tongue worked. You could feel how wet you were, leaking directly into his mouth as you mumbled your satisfaction into the lupine ballsack occupying your mouth.

“Damn, you're eager, aren't you?” The brown one muttered “Tell you what, if you ask me really nicely, I'll fuck your face. Would you like that?”

He hadn't pulled your face away from his balls. You tried to nod, pulling your hair against his fist, feeling yourself throb as you did so.

“Beg”

A soft moan leaped from your lips as he yanked you back. His cock was poised at your face, just out of reach of your outstretched tongue.

He repeated himself “Beg, slut”

“Please” you looked up at him. Your voice wavered with the distraction of the other one still relentlessly tongue-fucking you “Please fuck my mouth”

He leaned down to you, his other hand stroking your cheek as his eyes came level with yours “Good slut. You know what good sluts get?”

He stood rapidly, guiding his cock into your mouth “Rewards”

He started slowly, letting you get accustomed to the thick rod in your mouth. You ran your tongue over the tip, teasing the hole. Every eager suck was rewarded with a jet of salty-sweet precum, thin and warm, coating your tongue, rolling down your throat. You sighed in satisfaction, tracing the ventral tube with the tip of your tongue, trying to beckon him onwards, urging him deeper.

Instead he pulled out. You whined, the heavenly tongue leaving your aching, leaking quim, your fingers rubbing against your clit, desperate for stimulation.

The black one spoke “I'm going to rut you. Do you want that?”

“Yes” you whined

“Tell me what you want, slut”

“Please” you were gasping, your mind only able to focus on how much you needed it “I want your cock”

“Good enough”

You almost cried when his cock parted your lower lips. He filled you beautifully, gliding in on an ocean of slick. Your eyes crossed and your tongue lolled, your thoughts just a jumble of sensation. You stared at the cock in front of you, dripping with your spit and precum

“P-please” you managed “Wanna suck”

“Good girl” The brown-furred lupine let you take his cock into your mouth, suckling on it while the black one’s hips slapped against yours.

Sweat dropped off you. Your toes flexed and clenched. You moaned and sighed your orgasms into the cock in your mouth. All you could do, all you wanted to do, was grip the bedsheets for dear life. You let the lupines use you, silently urging them on.

You felt the black one's knot swelling, pushing against your cunt. You slid a hand between your legs. Your fingers gripped behind the thick ball of throbbing flesh, pushing it into you.

“You want my knot? Huh?” He was panting. His words came breathy and growling “you wanna be a single mother?”

You nodded, the cock slipping from your mouth “cum in me” you begged him “knock me up” another moan as you neared your peak again “please”

The brown one pushed his cock back into your mouth.

The black one pushed harder.

Both knots slipped into you. The brown stuck behind your teeth, the tip squirting thick cum into the back of your throat. You spluttered and gagged. Wolf cum dripped from your nose as you struggled to swallow it.

That's not the one that was making you shake. The black wolf’s cock was buried in your cunt. The entire length stretching the tight, muscular walls. You could feel it throb. Swelling as pulse after pulse of virile wolf seed flowed directly into your fertile womb. You thought you could feel it. Millions of swimmers finding your eggs, lodging themselves in your baby-maker. You couldn't, of course, but just the idea of it was making your head spin.

You touched your belly, the clammy, sweaty skin slick under your fingers. Still plugged up with wolf-knot, leaking cum from your hole, you wished your dreams into being.

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru hated his last name. hated it like a stone in his shoe—always there, always rubbing raw. gojo felt less like a name and more like a warning label. it wasn’t his, not really. it belonged to history books and clan heads and a bloodline that never once asked if he wanted any of it. being gojo meant being untouchable, invincible, alone. he grew up thinking of it like a muzzle. like shackles. like a script he never got to rewrite.

and then he married you.

and suddenly you're laughing, calling yourself mrs. gojo like it’s the most casual, normal thing in the world. no fear, no hesitation, just soft affection wrapped around something that once made his chest tighten. you sign it on forms, whisper it into the phone when making reservations, scrawl it on love notes you slip into his coat pocket before missions. like it's yours. like it's yours and his, not just a dynasty or a curse.

and he can’t take it. he can’t fucking take it.

you wear his name like a promise. like a shared secret. like you want it. like you want him. and satoru—satoru, the man, the boy beneath the title—he doesn't know what to do with that. he's unraveling. imploding. your voice saying his name makes him dizzy, because you don’t say it like the world does. you say it like it’s precious. like it’s soft. like it means something good.

and it’s so stupid, right? that a name he once loathed now makes his chest ache with something too big for words? all because of you? all because you made it beautiful?

he used to resent it. now he wants to carve it into the sky just so everyone knows you chose it. chose him. chose forever.

maybe the name was never the problem. maybe it just hadn’t belonged to the right person yet.

but now it does.

and now it sounds like home.

[writerpeach]

Provocation

ITZY Shin Yuna x m!reader

15k words

“That’s not true,” Yuna argues, arms folded as if this is the most ludicrous thing she's had to explain. "Despite what everyone thinks, I don't sleep around. Maybe a few guys on the weekends, but during the week? I like to have a one-guy policy."

You don't believe her one bit—but you'll play along. "Just one guy? That's it?"

Yuna shrugs her shoulders. "Of course. One guy at a time. One guy on Monday—maybe Tuesday. And Wednesday. That's it."

"That's three, Yuna," you laugh, shifting in your seat to face her a bit more. She takes a sip of her drink, stirring it around before bringing it back up to her pouty, red lips—the ones that cause nothing but trouble.

"Exactly. A different guy each day of the week. I don't think that's a lot. If anything, Yeji gets around way more than me."

Now you know she's lying.

The way you can tell is when her lips move. That's the telltale sign. When a word slips out between them, you always know the words will be objectively false. 

Because this is Shin Yuna, the girl who flaunts every facet of her beauty like it's her job. This is the girl who wears skirts short enough to flash the entire bar a glimpse of her perfect little ass. The one who always leaves the house wearing a bra on purpose, her top always sheer enough to show the shape of her perky breasts. The same girl who would give head to a random guy just because he asked for a stick of gum.

"Yeji? Are we talking about the same girl?" you question, doubting that girl would even have a quarter the sex that Yuna has in one night. Yeji's definitely attractive, but reserved and soft spoken—nothing like the track record Yuna has.

"Hey, don't get it twisted," Yuna protests, nearly spilling some drink when she sets her glass down. "Yeji isn't some innocent church girl. She's a lot hornier than people think. Almost too much. As much as she acts all pure and sweet and innocent, she's a freak."

You'd say you believe her, except it's Yuna—so it's not probable in the slightest. "Right. She's totally a freak and you're an absolute saint."

"Glad we're on the same page." Yuna grins, stealing your drink to take a sip without even asking, leaving those red lips staining the rim of the glass. "She's more insatiable than me."

"I think you've had a little too much to drink, Yuna.” 

Yuna ignores you entirely. "I mean it—that girl is probably getting dicked down as we speak. Or if she isn't, then she's got a new vibrator that's getting the job done, watching some of the most depraved porn out there. That girl is obsessed."

"Obsessed with dick or obsessed with porn?"

"Both. You can't imagine some of the toys she has hidden."

Yuna keeps speaking, but she could say anything at this point, and you know there wouldn’t be an ounce of truth in it. She's gotten more than a couple drinks deep now. And her tight skirt rides up, each not-so-subtle movement revealing more thigh as she shifts, not even the slightest concerned who can see underneath.

"If she's a freak, what the hell does that make you, then?" you ask in all earnest, trying to change the subject, because Yuna clearly can't be trusted around alcohol. This girl and oversharing go together far too well.

"Me? Oh, I'm the best fuck of your life—the one who will choke on your cock like a goddamn whore and let you blow your load all over my pretty face." 

You don’t even look at her when you reply. "Forget I ever asked." 

"But you did ask. And now you're going to take me home so I can demonstrate exactly what I do to those poor, pathetic boys every weekend."

"Absolutely not. I don't recall making an invitation."

"Do I need one? Doesn't feel like it," Yuna asks, with a quick tilt of her head. "Doesn't daddy wanna spend all night fucking this tight little pussy?"

You nearly vomit hearing Yuna's poor attempt at seduction. "Stop it. Please, for the love of god, don't ever call me that again."

She simply laughs it off, leaning close as she rests a hand on your thigh, those nimble little fingers giving a good squeeze, when it wanders just a little too high. 

"Come on," she insists. "The second you’ve got your cock inside me, you know there won't be any pulling out. Daddy won't be able to control himself."

"I'm leaving you here. Take a cab if you have to," you warn, standing up from the barstool without even the slightest look back in her direction.

Yuna sighs. “Okay, fine,” she says as she grabs your wrist, keeping you from going very far. "I won't call you that anymore. Just take me home and fuck my brains out. Please?"

That voice, the desperation, it's hard to resist. Not to mention the pleading look, those big, round eyes staring, and when your focus falls down her shirt, barely even a shirt, the curves on this girl she dares to flaunt in your face. Yuna wants you to know that you'd be a fool to turn her down.

"What's in it for me? Aren't there plenty of guys lining up for a chance to fuck you here?" 

"This place is boring—and none of them can handle me." 

You're not even sure you can handle this girl and her attitude, but when Yuna stares like that, this longing look that begs for attention—it's difficult to say no. "Are you saying that just because you want a ride home?"

"It's a reason, yes." She can't hold back the smile, no matter how hard she tries. "You take me home, and then I'll suck your cock until your legs give out. Won't you help this poor, helpless little slut?"

Against your better judgment, there’s this temptation you can’t ignore. A devil resting on your shoulder, and on the other side, also a devil in the form of Shin Yuna herself. You can’t refuse that smile, those batting eyelashes, or those eyes without a hint of innocence in them. You’re already a lost cause. 

Yuna can’t help but smirk, seeing her prey lured in with such ease as she grabs her coat, one hand slipping in yours, and not even needing a response when the both of you know where this is heading. "No more daddy—that's a promise."

You don’t believe that for a second, but you also don't care one bit as you head out, Yuna clinging to your arm on the way to the parking lot. 

And this might be your biggest mistake yet. 

Neither of you even make it out of the parking garage to your apartment. Yuna has you backed up against the cold, concrete wall, in a dark corner that she swears doesn't have a camera—but even if it does, who fucking cares when the sight of her on her knees takes precedence, getting your cock wet between her lips as fast as possible.

And the sound of her greedy slurps echo off those same walls, somehow a thousand times louder than usual. 

"You know my apartment is right up there," you manage to say in between gasping breaths. Yuna's barely listening, staring straight into your eyes, with her cheeks hollowed to no end and every inch of your cock taken down so easily. She spits over your length a few more times, spreading it along your hard shaft before her lips swallow you whole, not breaking her gaze once for even a single breath. 

With another loud, sloppy suck with those red lips around the tip of your shaft, that's the only time she answers, a small pop filling the air when she backs off, stroking you slowly with her fist.

"That's two floors up. Why wait, when I can just suck your cock here? That elevator takes ages." she argues innocently, running her tongue underneath that most sensitive area of your shaft. "Unless you really want me to stop—"

"N-no. Fuck, no. Don't you fucking dare." 

"That's what I thought,” Yuna replies, and she has no intention to, burying her nose in your abdomen with every last inch consumed by her warm throat. And her wet mouth gets so noisy, so starved, these desperate slurps that could probably be heard all the way to the top floor of the parking garage. 

It's so completely Yuna: her lack of restraint, the enthusiasm as she bobs her head in a blur without any sign of a gag reflex. The way her lips tighten around your shaft and stay there for an eternity without pulling off even for a second, like she needs your cock down her throat for survival. It’s goddamn relentless. 

“God, Yuna, this fucking mouth—" you curse under your breath and place a hand on her head for guidance, wondering how the fuck Yuna manages to take so much at once while looking so beautiful at the same time. It's her lips wrapped around every inch, the way she stares into you, her lipstick all smeared along the base of your shaft with a fresh layer of spit glistening along the length of it. "Why the hell is your mouth so good at this?” 

It's a compliment that's only going to feed that inflated ego, as if that's even possible at this point. But you can't hold back the praise, when her lips feel this incredible, wrapped so tight with all the warm, wet suction you can handle, taking you back into the deep end of her throat like nothing. 

"I’ve told you…” Yuna starts with this smug little grin as she draws out every reaction she can out of your features with a messy kiss to your swollen cockhead. "Suck enough dick, and you have it down to a science. Nobody gives head better than me. Not Yeji, not a single person you've met."

Can’t say you find any fault with that, for once. The rare occasion when Yuna speaks the truth, with how good her mouth feels on you, slurping away to get these groans spilling that reinforces her point. How could anybody come close? 

“Don’t let it get to your head.” 

“Too late,” she says, with her playful little chuckle when you escape from the heat of her mouth. She continues to pump her fingers along every spit-soaked inch that sets you on edge, slowing down only so she can drag it out, savor the look of desperation etched across your face. Then she’s right back down, lips flush to your base in no time. 

“Shit, those fucking lips feel so good. Who knew you had any other skill other than being an obnoxious fucking brat.” 

Yuna doesn't even fight you for that one, giving your length a sloppy kiss, before sliding her mouth down to latch around your balls and suck hard. A tight fist strokes quicker than before, twisting so perfectly while her mouth is occupied, a motion that makes you completely unable to hold back the strangled noises that she gets off on. 

It all feels too good, with her full attention devoted to your aching cock that throbs in her fingers, these lewd slurps of your sensitive balls that drive you towards the edge faster when her mouth gets all hot and wet around you.

“F-fuck, fuck, Yuna—“ 

It’s so clear, the sheer enjoyment written across Yuna's features when she pops off your balls with a loud, wet pop. and then gets your cock right back in her mouth where it belongs.

There’s no stopping her this time—not when she gets a good grip on your thighs for support, so she can slobber on your cock with reckless abandon. A fucking shameless display, saliva dripping down her chin, a messy string that connects from her lip to the tip of your swollen cockhead while she takes you straight into the back of her throat, again, and again, not taking a breath unless she absolutely needs to. 

And then she’s jerking your cock right in front of her face. 

“Almost ready to cum for me, aren’t you? Don't you wanna fucking finish all over my pretty face? Don't you like how nice it looks when I'm covered in your thick load?"

Fuck, do you ever—and it doesn't help when Yuna tightens her grip and gives these rapid strokes that have your head spinning. All you can do is watch as she furiously jerks your cock straight towards her gorgeous face, tongue out so eagerly as she awaits every bit you're ready to release.

When it hits, the first explosive burst shoots across her forehead, streaking right over her hair. The rest follows, finding a place splattering all across her face. All over those open pouty lips—hot, sticky spurts that Yuna catches with her tongue as each shot paints a different spot of her features, the excess dribbling down her chin. 

Yuna laughs through it, trying not to close her eyes so she can watch you unload all over her features, a mess that has no end in sight. More hits her cheek, a nice shot across her nose as your cock pulsates in her tight fist, and the hot spurts continue to paint her in white streaks across her flawless face. A final few bursts land across her open mouth, a taste that gets her smiling so wide through a cum-stained mess.

"Fucking christ, Yuna," you exhale, out of breath as the high lingers.

Yuna lets your throbbing cock rest gently against her cheek, your orgasm slow to subside. Even when every last drop is wrung from the tip, she refuses to take her mouth off you, sucking your shaft clean with a few long slurps and flicks of her tongue that make you nearly collapse. 

"Just look at all that fucking cum. I'm covered in it, like a good little slut should be," she marvels, staring at the exhaustion plastered across your face. "Bet that felt good, huh? God, there's like a week's worth of cum here. All milked out of your thick fucking cock."

And Yuna has never looked better. 

"H-hold on, I'll get something to clean that up—"

Yuna gets to her feet, stepping in to shut down the idea before you can finish. "No need. I'll keep it on until we get to your apartment. Plus, I look the prettiest when I'm dripping with your cum."

It's insane—the words this girl will casually throw out in public, and how she wants to spend the entire elevator ride looking like that. Even if it's late enough that hardly anybody uses this elevator, there's always a chance you could run into someone who lives here. But saying no to this girl was never an option, already heading back the direction of the elevator without giving much a chance to argue, much less a chance to slip your pants back on.

Shin Yuna is quite possibly the worst influence—and yet, here you are.

Once she's all cleaned up, it's just pure unadulterated lust, from both ends as you find a spot on the couch to crash into with Yuna straddling you. Not an ounce of innocence in the kiss. Nothing but hot breath and moans, not even a second to break for air. The alcohol, the ride back here, the blowjob in the goddamn parking garage, you can't even contain yourself anymore. You let this girl get to you in the best of ways and give into this sinful temptation with an absolute desire to ruin her.

Yuna groans as you plant these rough, messy kisses along her neck—god, she tastes so good, like strawberries and sin and everything you're addicted to. She writhes under you, fingers tangled through your hair and you're not leaving your lips off her for a single second. 

"Keep doing that, please, f-fuck," Yuna pleads, and you flip her around effortlessly to do so, her tight little body flat on her back underneath you. You leave these marks all down her neck—sucking hard on that sensitive skin so easy to bruise, and sinking your teeth in at every opportunity. All these whimpers fill your ears and the louder they are, the harder you bite, the rougher your kisses grow.

This relentless assault leaves her breathless, an abrupt change from the usual confidence and arrogance that defines her. Right here, under you like this, Yuna makes it so easy to have her body entirely at your mercy—even more when you strip her shirt off and toss it aside, revealing those breasts fully to the chilly air. You barely have time to admire the sight of them before your mouth moves to devour the newly exposed flesh.

"You have no idea all the things I want to do to you, Yuna," you growl as you take a nipple between your lips, a sharp suck and a light nibble that makes her squirm even harder against the couch cushions.

"Like what? Tell me everything you want to do to me, d-daddy—"

You glare up, eyeing her intently and there's this sudden moment of silence while you refuse to get your mouth back onto her tits. 

"S-sorry, it just slipped," she says with this unabashed laughter, her apology as believable as anything else that escapes from those pretty lips. "Every guy I fuck loves hearing that. Force of habit."

"Don't make me leave you on this couch alone, Shin Yuna. Because I'll fucking do it, no hesitation."

"You'll never hear it again, I promise. Never, ever—now come on, back to what you were doing."

You raise a suspicious brow for a moment, but then it's back to your ravenous mouth focusing all over her chest, kissing up all over when you alternate between them. She loves it too—every hot and heavy kiss, every time you lick right at her most sensitive spots, latching onto her stiff nipples and sucking so hard. Yuna grips tightly at the back of your head, her fingers deep in those locks while you devour her tits and enjoy the softness of them against your face, skin flushed when you switch to the other breast.

And god, this sound that escapes her throat—when you travel down her body and kiss her abdomen, these soft little kisses that make her sigh harder and squirm more, getting lower and lower until the fabric of her skirt blocks your progression. It's this whimper from her lips when you swipe your tongue right above her belly button, a slow drag that tastes as much of her as possible.

"Skirt on or off? Your pick." You kiss at the top of her thighs, waiting eagerly for an answer as you toy around with the zipper.

"Whatever d—" she stops herself halfway. "You want. Whatever you want. On. Just fuck me with it on—can't wait, need you between my thighs already."

Can't say you're disappointed in the decision—pushing her skirt up her thighs to reveal that pretty purple lace that contrasts her pale thighs. But before you have the chance to put her out of her misery, you get a little more comfortable, stripping down to nothing but your boxers while Yuna bites her bottom lip and watches in silence. She keeps staring, wide eyes filled with anticipation as she catches the slightest glimpse of the way you're hard for her already.

"See something you like?" you ask her, Yuna shifting underneath with her skirt neatly bunched up her waist. 

"No, not a single thing," she answers, unable to hide her laughter for a second.

"Good, then I guess I can just go jerk off in my room or something," you tease, about to remove yourself from the couch until her hands lock tight around your shoulders, keeping you planted there.

"Shut the fuck up and eat me out. Can't wait a second more, ruin me with that amazing tongue of yours."

"Not even a please?"

"Absolutely not," Yuna insists, growing more impatient by the second. But it's a good thing you're generous—and more than raring to get between her thighs as much as she needs you to. 

She can hardly contain the noise when you grab the waistband of her panties and drag them down those long legs, Yuna lifting up just slightly to help guide them off. And when they slide past her feet, you don't hesitate one bit, spreading her thighs apart just to admire the sight���exposing her glistening wet cunt in all its glory.

"See something you like?" Yuna echoes your own question right back, flashing a smirk which only fades when you respond with a brief flick of your tongue. 

"Yeah, a perfect place to dump a huge load of cum," you remark back, licking a long stripe up her wet slit before ending in a gentle suck of her clit. "God, you're so fucking wet, Yuna. Dripping like crazy down here."

"Who's fucking fault is that?" 

"Not mine. You're the one who begged me to take you home because you were too scared to find a stranger in the bar to fuck."

The first few long licks do the rest of the talking for you as you bury your head deep between her spread thighs, tongue exploring her deliciously wet pussy. So sweet on your lips the more you taste, a suck of her clit every now and again, these unimpeded moans that can’t help spring free from her lips. 

"F-fuck, oh my fucking—first off, I did not beg. Second, don't pretend like you wouldn't fuck me if I found someone better," Yuna manages to get out mid-way through an absolutely filthy groan, grabbing fistfuls of your hair to push your face against her pussy.

"You're saying you could find someone better than me? In that shitty little dive bar?"

"S-shut up. Your ego's fucking broken," she argues between her desperate moans. You roll your eyes at her and get back to work—watching the way Yuna attempts to cover up her mouth with the palm of her hand. 

"Is that why you're struggling so much not to moan for me? You think any of those drunk idiots at the bar could do what I do to this pretty little pussy?" You're so determined to see her at a loss for words, lapping away at her clit, but that's all this girl brings out of you. It's difficult to play the nice guy when all her lips do is incite a response out of you like this. 

"You talk t-too much. Shut up and eat my cunt, so I can cum on your face already."

That you can do—more than happily. With a hand against her abdomen, Yuna's being pinned to the cushions as your tongue lashes away at her delicious folds to really lap up all her sweetness. It's addictive, the way you suck and lick away, from her swollen clit, right down to the bottom of her glistening wet slit, this intense groan tearing right through her as she locks eyes to watch you devour her cunt.

"Forgot how fucking good you taste—god, you taste fucking amazing.” 

“You forgot? Nobody forgets how good I taste. Not when you're addicted to eating my pussy as much as you are—"

That's a ridiculous enough statement to ignore, but you also can't bear the idea of stopping what you're doing, with your tongue exploring in slow, steady laps of every delicious morsel. Not when the sweet taste of Yuna fills your mouth and threatens to drown out everything else you feel, because she's so damn wet. It's the way your head is trapped between her thighs, keeping you right where she wants, smothering your face with her dripping cunt and forcing your tongue as deep as it can possibly reach. 

"Fucking shit—your mouth, that's so good, god. Fuck, fuck, y-you're gonna make me fucking cum! Don't stop—"

Like you could ever. Not when you have Yuna writhing against the cushions, watching the way her features contort into absolute bliss with just a harsh suck of her clit. 

Her mouth hangs open, head thrown back and the lewd, whiny little moans that you're so familiar with come right out. There's a rhythm of breathing that follows—heavy and erratic the more you try to break this girl. She struggles to even control herself when all she's reduced to is a soaking mess in front of your eyes, grinding against your face, needing to cum more than her next breath.

And that's the perfect opportunity to deny her what she wants so desperately. A split-second pause, watching the lust transform into absolute desperation. 

"N-no, please," she protests, urgency in her voice the second she feels your tongue stop. 

"Something wrong?"

"You ass—don't fucking stop. I said not to stop!" 

That's enough incentive to get back to it, fingers plunging right inside that wet heat to give your mouth a much-needed rest. Which only gives you these drawn-out moans, and fuck—there's not a single thing tighter than Yuna. Two fingers sink in with such ease, so wet, so warm, just taking whatever you'll give her at this rate. Nice and slow at first, so you can admire her reaction as you curl them inside, reaching spots that make her back arch right off the couch. 

"P-please, I'm so fucking close, fuck—"

Now she's begging, needing release at a level that's quite rare to see from Yuna. You pick up the pace, plunging those digits deep inside her sopping wet walls, hitting that same spot that makes her hips jolt so violently. 

"Is this what you needed? Come on, I know you're right fucking there. Fucking cum, Yuna. Cum like the needy little slut you are." 

You're not sure if it's the words that do her in, or the merciless assault of your fingers—both together is what gets the job done, the constant wet squelch that echoes with every furious plunge deep into her slick warmth. It's unmistakable when her cunt gushes around your thrusting fingers—spraying all over your hand, the couch, and god knows what else is just destroyed at this point. 

Yuna turns into a relentless, gushing mess, until she grabs your wrist to keep those fingers moving, filling the air with an even more delicious series of sobs.

Beautiful doesn’t begin to describe it when her body spasms the more you pump into this sensitive little cunt. Your fingers are so drenched, with the juices that spill like a fountain, these choked moans that escape with every thrust. And when that begging for more turns into pleading to stop, you're not interested in withdrawal, not until you wring a second orgasm out, a third, however many it takes for her to finally tap out. 

"S-stop, you're gonna fucking kill me, stop—god, it's just too much," she cries out, every ounce of strength left in her failing. Only do you pull out when Yuna forces your arm away, thighs still quivering in the aftermath as you get a good look of the damage done. Flat on her back, she can hardly move on her own. A mess all along her creamy thighs, along the couch, and who knows where else. 

"My poor couch."

"Your poor couch? What about my poor fucking pussy? Look at what you fucking did, I came like five fucking times—"

Even in the aftermath of an intense, messy climax, Yuna can’t help being Yuna.

"I didn't hear any complaints when you were squirting all over me,” you say, and bring your wet fingers to your lips to suck the delicious taste off. 

"Because your fucking fingers felt so fucking good, you asshole—" Yuna's so worn out, completely unable to do anything but just revel in the mess she's made.  

"You're welcome."

"That wasn't a thank you—oh my fucking god, look at my skirt, you fuck," Yuna groans, eyes shifting to the state bunched up above her waist. 

"This is your fault, don't even start."

"Because you fucking made me ruin it, this is like a $300 skirt!"

"My condolences," you say, without a hint of guilt, the damage to her skirt not even the least of your concerns. Especially when you unzip it to slide it right down her slim figure—revealing every inch of her gorgeous body naked for you to drink in. "Excuse me, princess. However can I make it up to you?"

"Don't fucking call me that," she snaps, and even in her weakened state she's not any easier to deal with. "I'm too tired to ride you right now, so you're just going to have to fuck me until my legs don't work." 

"Still not hearing a please," you remind her, slipping out of your boxers at last, your stiff cock finally freed after seeing Yuna's naked frame laid out so perfectly.

"You can take your please and shove it right up your fucking ass. I'm not saying it."

"Fucking brat," you curse, grabbing her waist to position Yuna right where you want her. "I'll do all the damn work then—you're not going anywhere but into this couch."

"Good, about fucking time."

When she's finally done complaining, her gaze falls back to your rock hard cock aimed at her soaking entrance. You shift forward, a hand on her slender waist for support, the head of your shaft nudging her wet cunt.

"Come on then, I haven't got all night—are you gonna fuck me, or just stare?"

"Yes you do. What the fuck else are you gonna do? Go fuck somebody else you won't even remember the next morning?" Angling yourself just right, you don’t waste a second longer to slide inside, right up to the hilt—feeling that tight, heavenly cunt consume every inch.

"My fucking god, Yuna—"

She's never felt more incredible, or so goddamn tight, impossibly wet, warm—every sensation just overwhelming, getting used to it all over like it's the first time inside her. A feeling that doesn't disappear, even before you move one bit, with these beautiful legs spread wide apart as they'll go.

"Forgot how tight my little pussy was, huh?" she taunts, loving the groans that it pulls from your mouth. "You haven't changed at all. Still have that same cute little face you get when you've got your cock inside me. My pussy just ruins every other girl for you, doesn't it?"

"Too tight, god—why are you so fucking tight? Greedy slut gets pounded by twelve guys a week and still this tight? Fuck—"

"Less talking and more fucking. Move your hips—fuck me like the filthy little whore I am, come on."

Your only response is to get your hands right on both sides of Yuna's tiny waist, sliding outside with just the tip of your cock remaining, before slamming your entire shaft to fill her again. The first thrusts alone have her clutching the couch cushions to brace for more, each one a little rougher, a little deeper, the walls of her cunt clenching so hard the more of your throbbing shaft fills her. 

"Don’t hold back. I wanna feel every inch of that thick fucking cock in my wet little cunt," Yuna breathes out with this demand in her voice. "Come on, harder—ruin my poor little pussy, f-fuck."

"That's the fucking plan." All this tension you've built up between each other has reached its boiling point, the frustration, the annoyance, all coming out here and now. Because once Yuna is under you like this, everything changes, your hips pulling back only to shove in again, a relentless rhythm on repeat. 

"Better be. Why do you even need other girls when my perfect little pussy is always here waiting for your cock? You already have a pretty fucktoy to use, don't you—"

"Yuna, stop fucking talking already," you groan with no patience for anymore of her rambling. "Your schedule is a little booked up right now, in case you haven't noticed."

That's when your thrusts hit without holding back, hard enough to get a reprieve from that bratty attitude—watching her pretty features contort as you keep drilling inside that intoxicating heat. Not letting up once, the sound of her slick pussy soaking every inch of your shaft with every slam fills the room, barely audible over the sound of her loud moans. And that tightness, god—it’s unfathomable, unforgettable, each delicious clench driving your hips so you’ll feel more of it. 

"Then I'll fucking clear my schedule. As long as you promise to fuck me like this—I'll put you in my calendar every fucking day."

That's not exactly the solution, and you can't imagine being with Yuna day in and day out, even if that comes with the prospect of having access to this pretty, warm little wet hole whenever you feel like. No, not worth the hassle—maybe for a weekend, but beyond that you'd go insane.

"Once a week is enough. Maybe twice if you can keep your fucking attitude in check."

"You love my attitude. Just like the rest of this body that you can't keep your hands off."

She has a point—a painfully accurate one, but not one that you're willing to admit when you keep trying to silence Yuna with these violent slams that have your balls ready to unload sooner rather than later. Her tight cunt drives you absolutely wild, almost distracting enough from that infuriating mouth of hers.

But even more distracting is the look in her face while you fuck her, and you can't resist staring with every thrust as she continues to keep those legs parted just for you. That's until they wrap tightly around your waist, the heels of her bare feet digging into your lower back, forcing you deeper into this perfect tight body.

"What the fuck are you—"

Yuna's light giggle interrupts your question, the look in her eyes almost enough of an answer on its own. "Just making sure you're not thinking about pulling out. Want every drop you have. Fucking dump it in me."

"God, will you shut up," you groan, face burying into the crook of Yuna's neck, unable to take another second of her mouth running while your hips keep up this unforgiving pace. This tightness, this wetness, it's more than you can handle, using her cunt to fuck every bit of annoyance building inside from what feels like forever. 

"I'll shut up when you cum inside me. It's been way too fucking long since you finished inside me, since I've heard you moan when your balls empty. Does every girl you fuck let you finish like this? Bet none of them do."

You're not even interested in playing this game with her, not when she has you so close already, your pistoning hips driven by such immense desire to flood Yuna's dripping cunt. She's even clenching harder than usual with those slim legs locked so tight, a grip you can't possibly slip from no matter how much you tried. Not that you even would. 

Thrust after merciless thrust, you keep your lips sealed to her neck, sucking so hard like it's the only thing to keep you anchored. All you can do is keep moaning in her ear, keep hammering her greedy little cunt, faster and faster—

"I'm about to fucking cum, Y-Yuna—"

The words leave your mouth right before you've reached your limit. Your mind's elsewhere, not even in control, as your balls tighten and every muscle in your body tenses. Not even a word on her end, like Yuna was waiting for this moment the entire night. There's just hot breath on her neck, your cock pounding so hard into this soaked pussy, every pump taking you further past the point of no return—until that first surge shoots deep inside her wet walls.

A hot, sticky load floods right into her pussy in a violent throb of bursts, pumping one spurt after the other deep as possible. Yuna wraps her legs tighter with each, keeping you buried completely while everything unloads inside her. Everything goes blank, losing track of how many shots fill her tight cunt, a complete blur while your hips move on repeat, fucking it all deeper into her slick warmth. 

"F-fuck, there's so much," Yuna groans, struggling to find the words, feeling every ounce of your hot load spill inside, threatening to overflow before you even finish.

You just continue to drive into her without mercy, until your body begins to give out, sweat dripping all along her pale frame underneath. By the time you're done, you’ve collapsed into the comfort of Yuna's neck, planting gentle kisses along the marks you've left behind while you ride out the high. She stays quiet for a moment—no taunting, no attitude, letting your still throbbing cock rest inside her with your thick load slowly seeping out.

It's the most deserved orgasm you've had in a while, you think. Putting up with Yuna—just to unload everything you have inside, where it belongs. All her annoying remarks, that shameless, filthy fucking mouth all seem to fade into obscurity after everything. For a few seconds, there's bliss. A quiet bliss. 

Bliss that doesn't last very long at all. 

"Did that feel good? Emptying your big, heavy balls inside me?" Yuna asks you, resting her long arms around your body. It's almost calming, the light scratches down your back that lull you into a state of relaxation. Something you didn't think was possible with this girl.

"Y-yeah," you breathe out against her neck, struggling to catch your breath as you linger in the warmth of her tight pussy that can’t stop clenching for more. "I came inside you, now get off me—"

"Never, you're still fucking hard. My legs still work, and I haven't even gotten to ride you yet," she reminds you, staring straight into your eyes with her legs staying perfectly in place. "That load was just an appetizer—daddy." 

You groan—louder than ever before, but not in pleasure.

"What the fuck did I tell you about calling me that?"

Yuna shifts beneath, legs relaxing enough to release the hold—allowing you to slide your cock free from the overwhelming heat.

"What's the matter, a nice, thick creampie in my tight cunt isn't enough for me to call you whatever I please?"

You're ignoring her, in as many ways as you can when you move your gaze between her thighs to admire the sight—the beautiful mess that's dripping from her pussy, so full of your hot cum. "Go home, Yuna. If that's what's you're going to keep doing, then we're fucking done here." 

"You're no fun. It's after midnight, you're not going to send a little innocent girl like me out alone like this, are you?"

Again, you ignore her, standing up from the couch in complete disarray and making a path to the bathroom instead. "I need a shower, but you can sleep on this couch you've defiled for all I care. Please be gone in the morning."

It's a bit heartless, you know, but Yuna brings out this part in you that rarely sees the light of day, when she refuses to listen. Even more so when her footsteps follow closely behind, her petite naked frame and that mess between her legs still dripping without any ounce of shame.

"God, you're such a mood killer," Yuna sighs, grabbing your wrist to pull your attention her way. "I'll stop fucking teasing you. I'll stop calling you daddy, you big fucking baby. Just let me shower with you. Please? I won't even talk. I promise."

That's a hard one to trust, given her track record. But she sounds far too exhausted to even try any tricks, pleading so hard to convince you to let her share your bed tonight. And it's hard to turn down that pout, those bright, widened eyes that stare you into submission.

"Fine. Not a single word in the shower. And if you call me that even once, Yuna, I'm never shoving my cock in you ever again. Do you understand?"

"Of course. Swear it on my life. Promise. Never ever ever—that's it."

And just like that, this look in her eyes when she steps inside the shower after you suggests she'll live up to that word. You'll see. If anything, seeing her naked under the hot steam is enough to commit to whatever terms you've created. A selfish, yet regrettable decision.

A nice, relaxing shower where this brat doesn't utter a single sound, not a single dirty comment—that's better than anything in your wildest dreams.

Things move to the bedroom, as they usually do with Yuna. The two of you are completely devoid of any clothing, because modesty with her around simply doesn't exist. She slides into the spot beside you, resting her head on your chest, delicate fingers in a relaxed grip around the length of your shaft. And you’re happy to do nothing but watch the smile on her face while she gives these magical strokes, not nearly enough pleasure to take things any further. 

"Whenever you're ready to put this big thing back inside me, let me know," Yuna says as casually as possible—as casual as someone can get while palming their hand around your cock.

But you're hesitant to leave this moment—her body curled so perfectly against yours, to the point where you can almost tolerate her. Almost. That being the important thing in all this.

"I already filled you twice today. Not enough for one night?"

"Never enough," she insists, giving a firm squeeze that makes you reluctantly agree. "Plus, you haven't filled my ass, and we both know what a huge fan I am of that.” 

"Obsessed is more the right word. You might be more into me fucking your ass than I am, and that's saying something. Like, I could live inside there."

She giggles, her delicate little fingers tracing down your shaft while she keeps stroking. "Can you blame me when I have an ass like this? You should be the one begging me instead of the other way around." 

"I'd never beg you for anything, Yuna. You're a pretty girl with a nice ass who spreads their legs on command, I don't need much more than that from you."

Yuna responds with a tug at your balls, almost painful in nature to get a point across. "Tell me that again when you want to bury your face in my ass. See if that's true then. Let's see how long you last without getting to eat my ass."

"Okay, okay—point taken."

"Not everybody gets to tongue my ass. It's a privilege."

"So lucky, my life is complete now that Shin Yuna allows me the honor of worshiping her ass." 

That makes her squeeze your cock all too hard in this agonizingly slow stroke. "My ass is fucking amazing. The only word for it, and it deserves some appreciation. I don't even let anyone else but you fuck me there."

"Why do I not believe that?"

Yuna drops a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your chest. "You don't have to believe it. I'll let half a dozen guys all have turns fucking me at once—until they cum inside me or on my face. Nobody but you gets the luxury of pounding my ass though."

“I’m touched.” 

"You should be. Every guy I fuck should be on their knees, begging me for the slightest chance to worship my body, especially my ass." 

Nobody has confidence like Yuna does, even if it's wildly inflated. As much as her very presence annoys you, it’s hard to say you could survive long without that tight ass. Whether it’s bouncing on your cock, your face, or just existing in front of your hips to have a handprint against it. That doesn't mean you'd ever drop to your knees and grovel for her, but there's no denying how much power that ass has.

"Nobody has a better ass than you, Yuna. Not even Yeji. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?" She laughs—this sinister laugh, while squeezing your cock in her tight little hand, nodding all excitedly in agreement. You know it's going to go to her head, but the alternative is much worse. "Good, now can you just jerk me off in peace?"

“Fine,” she says, with a defeated sigh. “If that's what you want. I won't make another sound. You can just relax. Pretend I'm not here. I'll just keep jerking off this nice, thick cock until you cum again." 

"Now you're getting it."

You close your eyes and appreciate the silence, knowing this might be the only time when Yuna doesn't find some excuse to run her mouth. Her hands keep busy, and god, are her hands just heaven when she's so slow and focused. The one time she doesn't say a fucking word, just pumping your cock until you're ready to explode all over her.

You don't even remember falling asleep. The last thing you remember is Yuna straddling you, riding with all the energy in the world despite her earlier exhaustion. Hair draped over her face as she bounced up and down, hips so frantic and needy, groaning while you slipped a finger to toy with her ass. And then it's all a blur. Sweet, uninterrupted slumber, and that's how you ended up like this.

But now, Yuna isn't anywhere to be seen. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. So, rather reluctantly, you rise from the comfort of your bed, grab a fresh pair of boxers, a clean shirt, and stumble right into the kitchen for some semblance of routine. 

The smell of coffee lingers in the air, a normally welcome start to the day. This time it's different—it's burnt. Far from the rich aroma of a good cup, the one you've brewed on your expensive coffee machine you imported just months ago. Something's amiss.

There's the culprit. Yuna is standing there, fiddling around with the machine like the controls are in a different language. She's dressed at least, kind of, barefoot in what appears to be your shirt, white and loose fitting, barely covering her delicious bare ass when she's bent over trying to figure out the buttons.

"Morning," Yuna says over her shoulder, as if completely oblivious to the damage she's caused. "Think your coffee machine is broken."

"Did you break it?"

She takes a good hard look at the machine, as if in disbelief, before turning back around. "No, not a chance. It was like this when I got here."

"Yuna, did you break my fucking coffee machine?" you ask again, in dire need of the very thing she's about to deprive you of. 

"What did I just say? It's not broken. Look, if you press this button it comes out with this weird looking water and if you do this—fuck."

This is unbelievable. As if you needed another reason to kick her out the second you're awake, because you know first hand that Yuna should never be allowed in a kitchen. Any kitchen. Not after the burnt chocolate incident. 

"Let me handle this. Before you destroy my kitchen too."

"Hey, rude—I was just trying to be helpful. But you have some weird fucking coffee maker that you need a PhD in three different languages to understand."

She takes a step back, sighing in defeat as you take over and deal with the chaos left behind. "This is why I don't have company in the morning. A pretty girl comes over and immediately tries to burn my entire place to the ground."

There's this surprised gasp that escapes from her lips as you start everything over from scratch, dumping out whatever awful concoction that was brewing earlier.

"Wait, pretty? You think I'm pretty?"

"That's what you're focusing on right now? You really are insufferable," you mutter, with Yuna's eyes fixating on you while she just beams at the compliment. A few adjustments here and there, a fresh pour of water, and the aroma of fresh coffee starts to linger, slowly clearing up the disaster zone Yuna has left behind.

"You didn't answer my question." 

You have nothing in you but an eye roll.

"Yes. You're very pretty," you finally relent, pulling down two mugs from the cabinet above. "I could do worse than waking up to that in my bed. With my ruined coffee machine."

"Hey, it's not ruined, you jerk. It's working now, isn't it?" 

For now. Not the point you want to argue about right now, because you need caffeine in your system more than you ever have. At least you can enjoy a proper cup on the balcony with Yuna, even if that means putting up with her presence. Which maybe isn't as bad as you once thought, given the eye candy alone makes it slightly tolerable. 

Days pass. Uneventful, mostly, without anything much but the occasional lewd text from Yuna at random points throughout the day. Which you'll admit, is preferable to her showing up at your place unannounced, because you think getting off to the nudes she sends without having to hear her whining in person is a much better alternative. 

It's the weekend, and you don't have anything planned that doesn't involve sleeping it all away. An hour at the gym, maybe. Catching up on laundry, cooking yourself a nice dinner—trying that new bottle of wine that's been sitting in your cabinet untouched for months.

But you’ll never get to any of that. 

"Guess who?" 

That’s all Yuna says before forcing her way into the apartment, like she's already expecting to be let in without a second thought. This bright, happy smile on her lips, strutting into the living room in a small little crop top, and these ridiculous white shorts that are tighter than they have any right to be. "I know you missed me. So I'm here to return your shirt. I washed it. Or the dry cleaning people washed it. Doesn't matter."

"Thanks. Just leave it on the counter, and then you can leave."

Yuna frowns, far more offended by this suggestion than any other you've laid out for her. "But you missed me, haven't you? So I'm going to stay for a couple of days, and you're just going to have to suck it up."

So much for peace and quiet. 

“Absolutely the hell not. Don't you have your own apartment to wreck? You're not staying here."

"Why not?" she asks, tossing your shirt on the counter, just like you said. But just as quickly, she takes a seat on the couch and makes herself entirely too comfortable. "My place is a fucking mess, and I'd rather have some company. Plus, you have that really nice bed that's a thousand times more comfortable than anything I own." 

"You're not staying," you reiterate. "Why are you even here? Did you just get done with a dick appointment, so you're coming here now? This isn't a hotel."

Yuna stretches out on the couch, not bothered in the slightest. "No. I haven't been fucked in three days. How crazy is that? We need to catch up, so I figured I would stay with you—"

"We? Try again. I'm sure there's a gangbang going down somewhere, or an orgy you can crash. I am not letting you stay."

"What, is having me in your life such a terrible fate that you'll die if you don't have a moment's peace? A hot girl on your couch and the first thing you think of is getting rid of her?"

"That's exactly right. I have things to do today. important things. Things that don't involve babysitting you."

Yuna cocks her head at you, wide-eyed. "What could you possibly have to do today that's more important than this ass? Huh? Name one thing."

This girl is the definition of exhausting. Trying to tear your attention away from her brazen attitude is harder than it should be, with her figure slumped against the back of the sofa—arms spread wide and long legs extended so invitingly. That top riding higher and higher each time she so much as breathes, offering a full view of her toned abdomen. You can't find the strength or motivation to fight this, when Yuna looks the way she does. And you're certainly no stranger to sleeping with her.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. There are a thousand things more important than giving you attention. Now get off my couch and go find someone else to annoy."

The demand only earns a childish scoff, Yuna folding her arms across her chest. "Oh come on—look, I'll be good. I'll sleep on the couch, I'll cook you breakfast and dinner and clean whatever the hell I mess up. I won't bother you. Promise."

"You're not stepping foot in my kitchen after you almost broke my coffee maker."

"Almost. Keyword, almost," Yuna adds, barely getting to the end of her sentence before standing up and making her way across the living room to your side. "If I can't cook or clean or do anything, how do you suggest I pay you back for letting me stay here, hmm?"

You clench your fists so hard while exhaling, staring daggers into this psuedo-innocent expression that doesn't have any weight behind it. Knowing damn well what those gears turning in her head have planned. 

"Don’t worry, you're not staying here. So there's no need to pay me back." A simple rejection doesn't seem to deter her. It never does. 

She’s no stranger to the word no, but it doesn’t stop her from taking another step forward. And another one, closing the distance between, almost as a test to see how far she can go before the resistance starts. Then she steps back. Only to spin around, those tempting hips and ass pressing right into the crotch of your sweatpants, using the armchair nearby like support to push a little harder. 

And when she's looking like that, the way Yuna throws that devilish look over her bare shoulder while wiggling her ass is such an easy sell, a perfect visual that causes blood to rush down towards your cock. "If you prefer, I could just pull them right off…"

Somewhere deep inside, you want this—to give up this charade and indulge yourself in every inch of her. In that ass you have memorized to every detail, in that perfect fucking cunt that's yours to taste anytime you please. But the second you give in, there's no turning back.

Because you can't keep pretending that you can control yourself around this girl. Every shred of composure you try to have is fleeting when Yuna's there offering herself up on a platter.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've had someone spank my ass? Two weeks? Maybe even three. Nobody hits harder than those big, strong hands. Nobody can put me in my place like you do. And I've been such a bad, bad girl.” 

Staring at the view presented before you, your knees feel a little weak. The things you want to do to this bratty little tease are practically limitless, sending your imagination racing when you follow the curve of her hips. Because maybe it’s about time she got what she deserves. All those handprints, her sensitive flesh just bruised by your palm, the sight of her bent over and spanked relentlessly—maybe her punishment is your reward. 

It's inevitable at this point. And the worst part is, Yuna knows this all too well.

"What are you waiting for? Spank my ass, make it yours. Make it hurt so good. Please."

That please is what does you in. Because you can picture it now, feeling the supple skin of her ass bounce under every smack of your hand, and that high pitched yelp tearing through her throat the second you really put power behind each strike.

It doesn't help those goddamn skintight shorts that hug her ass, a perfect invitation to have your way. 

You sigh under your breath. Because you’ll fold like always, giving in to those desperate pleas. If only to satisfy the lust that builds for Yuna’s tight body. The way your cock will feel buried inside her ass, while you get so rough fucking her. Until she can barely stand on her own two feet anymore.

Fuck. She knows she's already won.

"Fine. You fucking brat. But not here, not on the couch. I'll need a drink for this."

With a final look at her—looking like sin and sex on two legs, you drag her towards the kitchen to look for the strongest thing you have, looking past the bottle of wine that will have to wait. Yuna waits silently by the counter, with that same knowing look in her eye. A look that has no chance to fade even once you pop open a bottle of something to help wash the regret down.

"God, you're going to regret wearing those shorts," you tell her, not bothering with a glass and taking a huge swig straight from the bottle. And then another. 

"I don’t regret a single thing in my life. Now where's mine?" Yuna asks, pout on her lips as she ignores the fact that those shorts are coming off the first chance you get. 

"You're annoying enough sober—you don't get shit until I've had enough to tolerate you." 

She giggles. Which at this point is more infuriating than cute. "So never?" 

Yuna watches the bottle return to your lips for another long sip. You don't even deny that—instead, your eyes are glued to her shapely figure while you wait for the alcohol to kick in. 

"Give me your belt.” 

You slam the bottle down and stare straight ahead at the puzzled look on Yuna's face—but there's no objection. Instead, she complies and unfastens the clasp before sliding the white leather strip right out and handing it over without asking a thing. 

And that's when you do the honors. Unfastening the front button of those ridiculous shorts and tugging the zipper down. Her shorts are so impossibly tight that even after all that, they still take a little extra strength to tug down past the full curve of her ass. But you do manage to peel them down, staring at the tiny scrap of blue cotton and lace that hardly covers a damn thing—what those shorts are concealing beneath, this small string nestled just between her smooth, bare asscheeks. 

“Surprised you even wore panties at all today.” 

“I wore them so you’d rip them off me. It’s no fun if I don’t make you earn it first.”

That cocky little smirk doesn’t falter—not until you grab her ass like it belongs to you, fingers digging in deep, rough enough to make her squirm. Yuna wants to be manhandled, you know that already, so you squeeze harder, spread her wide and knead every inch, marveling at how much of her there is to take.

Her thong barely counts as anything, just a bright blue string that disappears between her cheeks. It's the only thing standing between you and burying deep inside.

"Fuck, I can't wait to feel your hands hurting this ass so fucking hard," Yuna groans, rolling her hips back into your grip. 

You don't respond—because now you've got your teeth hooked into the flimsy fabric of her thong. One swift tug downward snaps the thin fabric and tears right through so you can get right to that incredible ass of hers. No sooner have the scraps of her panties fallen to the kitchen floor before you've got a solid grip on each bare cheek, sinking your teeth in just enough to mark her pale flesh.

Laughing under your breath as you run fingertips across those creamy cheeks, you shake your head in disbelief. "You think I'm going to be using my hands?" you ask while picking up her discarded belt, an almost forgotten strip of leather until this exact moment.

Yuna looks back over her shoulder with the biggest grin.

"We're doing this my way.” 

Dropping your sweatpants right around your ankles for some relief, she can't help but stare at your bulge. And a smile perks up on her lips the instant she catches sight of the leather belt in your tight fist. Surprisingly, Yuna stays silent, even as you test the belt out between the palm of your hand, the crack of leather echoing around the kitchen. "You wanna get spanked? Then you're gonna get spanked. Bad girls don't get a say in this."

"Can't wait," she responds, not obedient, but almost daring as her hands clutch tight to the kitchen counter to brace for the first impact. Neither can you. 

"Eyes forward then, slut," you demand, running the leather down her skin, tracing along every curve until she has no choice but to face away. Before any warning, the satisfying crack of leather connects right against her bare ass, ripping a startled yelp from those bratty lips. A strike so forceful it jolts her body forward and leaves a light imprint on her delicate flesh. 

It puts a smile on your face when you get the same reaction. Another sharp crack cuts through the silence, right against the flesh of her ass with even much force. Another welt, another moan, as this bright red mark begins to form as the color spreads across her flesh. "M-more, please—that stings so fucking good. F-fuck, more."

The next smack sends her hips slamming back into the counter, another strangled noise coming from her mouth right as you hit her harder without thinking. “If it's too much, speak up." 

But the noise she makes is barely coherent. All you can see is the look of excitement on her face as you deliver more stinging slaps to her same cheek, over and over until you've had enough—only switching to the other for an identical treatment and marking the unblemished skin just the same.

"N-never. I love the pain, love the feeling of this belt on my ass—please keep going." Even with the crack in her voice, the smack of leather against bare skin overshadows her cries while you up the ante and show no mercy. 

Over and over with these slaps all over her cheeks, fueled by frustration with Yuna yelping each time you send the belt flying into that sore, marked skin. But she still grinds her hips back at you for more, eager for any ounce of pleasure, and every ounce of pain that comes alongside.

The entire time Yuna stays bent over, loud gasps and pathetic whines for another while these harsh spanks rain down so she can feel the sting that lingers right after. Hard enough to leave her speechless and biting back to not beg you for even worse. She grips the countertop like she'll simply fall over if she doesn't. And after a well-timed hit, you force a break that she doesn't ask for—a moment to collect herself and catch her bearings. A moment to admire the redness that's not going away anytime soon.

"Still want more?" you ask her with a tug at her hair, the belt grazing her tender skin. 

"M-more. Give me everything you fucking have," she can barely breathe out between whimpers, gripping even tighter onto the kitchen counter, so that your next hit to that reddened ass leaves behind an unmistakable imprint on those plump cheeks. "Fucking make it hurt, don't treat me like I can't take it. Harder."

You can certainly oblige her. Harder is exactly what you'll do—each vicious snap of the belt a little more relentless, no pauses between several loud cracks against that aching flesh, causing the most delectable noise as Yuna gasps every single time. Even as you step back, inspecting the artwork you've left on her backside, Yuna is far from satisfied. "I said to fucking make it hurt. But you're holding back on me, stop doing that."

Oh, let her fucking complain. Even with a burning sting on her ass, Yuna can't help but provoke you a bit further, with your grip in her hair tightening. But those slaps only come faster—each vicious hit with the leather cracks over her raw ass, moans muffled as her cheek gets pressed right up against the cold countertop. 

The belt swings wide again, hitting both cheeks at once and making them jiggle, the redness across Yuna's round little ass making a stark contrast against the pure, porcelain skin. And she hears it first before feeling it. 

Another cry of ecstasy that escapes her throat right as the belt brings about more stinging slaps, until you let the folded length of her own belt linger in the air, so she doesn't even know when the next swing will happen. You love nothing more than watching her body tense up—every single nerve on edge knowing another hard smack will come her way the second she even breathes, her reddened ass ready to receive whatever you have left in store for it.

"Like doesn't begin to describe it. I'm fucking crazy for it," she gasps out, when the belt stays far enough away that you give her some sense of relief—until it brushes over the sore, sensitive skin, making the softest touch seem worse than an outright strike. Then it cracks over her cheeks in succession, her thighs clenching together as she takes it. 

"My god, nobody has an ass like this, Shin Yuna. Nobody. Especially now with all these pretty little marks, and those noises you make when I spank you, I could listen to those all fucking day."

You put the belt down and stroke over the red welts from where you may have gone just a little too far, not that Yuna would ever object. She glances back over her shoulder with the biggest smile, even through the tears staining her cheeks.

"That’s as much as you deserve, you desperate little slut.” 

Up her body you wander, pulling her upright and stripping her of that small crop top so your hands have better access. Then straight into the clasp of her bra, cupping her tits once you’ve freed them, kneading with a little force the way you know Yuna loves. 

"I can handle so much more than this, I swear. I could take so much more," Yuna insists with another cute sniffle. The problem is, you know she can. All you have to do is glance between her thighs, and the mess on the tiles tells you enough. 

"I know you can," you breathe in her ear, hand trailing up around her throat until your fingers close tightly around it. Yuna lets out this short and sweet moan in your grasp when you apply more pressure. “But you got what you want. Now it’s my fucking turn.” 

Yuna drips at the thought. There's no sense in resisting her, no point in pretending this wasn't inevitable from the moment she had herself bent over with those tight fucking shorts. You'll give into everything she wants despite pretending to do the opposite. 

"What's that fucking word you keep calling me?" you ask her, the grip around her neck making her thighs clench even harder this time. "Go on."

"D-daddy. That's it. But you said never to—"

"Doesn't apply here. One time, this one time, use it. Use it while I'm shoving my cock in your needy little asshole, understand?"

"Yes—I fucking understand. Y-yes, daddy. Just this once."

A quick release of her throat so Yuna can turn her body in your direction, the tears in those alluring eyes yet to dry up. Your free hand palms over her ass once again, getting a nice, possessive squeeze as a reward for everything she's endured already.

"My ass fucking hurts," she says, laughing it off between shaky breaths and the occasional sniffle. "G-god, this belt fucking hurt more than your hand ever could."

"Are you complaining or bragging?" you ask as your lips meet, hot breath against one another as her slender fingers grasp against the hem of your shirt, up and off within seconds so she can slide her fingers up and down your bare chest. 

"What do you think?" 

Your boxers come off last, not even hitting the ground before Yuna is stroking your stiff cock with this playful expression on her features. Then it's in her grip the entire time you walk her down the hallway and into the bedroom. As expected, she can't keep her hands off of you for more than a second, right up to when the bed frame hits the back of her knees and the only option is falling back onto the mattress.

"God, Yuna, the things I'm going to do to you—the ways I'll ruin you." With her legs spread wide, and thighs glistening with arousal, you get to indulge in the view while Yuna plays with her clit in lazy, drawn-out circles.

“Need you in my ass, daddy—need it now. Isn't that clear?" Oh, how unexpected that she’s going to abuse the permission of that one single word. 

"I can assure you the feeling is mutual," you insist, and join her on the edge of the mattress, taking her hips and flipping her over until she's lying right on her stomach with that sore, marked ass up on display, raised up off the mattress.

She props herself up on her elbows so she’s in position, right in the center of the bed. The sight is perfection—this shameless, insatiable fucktoy, sprawled across your bed with her legs parted, knees sunk into the bed, ready and waiting for you. 

Just as she opens her mouth to say something, you bury your face into those pillowy cheeks, the tip of your tongue swirling against her tight fucking asshole.

"F-fuuuck, it's been so long since I've had your tongue in my ass, daddy," Yuna moans, your spit lubricating her puckered hole all over, the softness of her cheeks pressing deep against your face as she tries to grind back. You shove your tongue deeper, tasting, savoring everything—eating her ass like it's the only reason you let her stay here tonight. The reason why you even opened the front door.

There's nothing better than the unfiltered moans while you plunge your tongue deep into the depths of her asshole, face first against it and greedy, spreading her wide apart while you slip in, those cries of pleasure getting higher. 

You taste—no, you devour her, tongue exploring, thrusting in and out of that tight little ring that clenches around each swipe. This delicious tongue-fuck that gets better the more desperate Yuna sounds, writhing around your sheets and pushing back, all in hopes to keep your mouth where it belongs. 

"This ass belongs to me," you remind her, a harsh slap on the still reddened flesh to make the pleasure even better. 

Yuna spreads her cheeks wider so you can plunge as deep as possible, so you can hear her delicious moans as your spit covers her glistening hole. One long, sloppy lick in and out, tongue so deep in her asshole that all she can do is whimper helplessly for more. 

"D-don't act like you didn't miss this," she says, still as cocky as ever through a breathless groan of satisfaction. Your tongue teases one last time, a thumb replacing it to press into the ring of muscle that's already relaxed, seeing how easy it is to sink into.

She’s more than ready, but you need one more taste before grabbing the lube so you can slide a wet digit right inside the puckered hole of Yuna's ass—fingering her the same way you've done countless times already. 

She's tight, of course, that’s a given, but even as a finger curls inside, this grip around your finger won’t begin to compare once your cock is in the same place. Two fingers is the limit, plunging them deep enough to stretch Yuna just enough so your cock will slide right in. "Only I get to fucking pound your asshole, yeah?"

"O-oh fuck, it's only you, daddy. Nobody else, nobody but you, I promise—your cock in my ass, right where it belongs. J-just you." 

Your fingers finally pop out, and instead the slick, swollen head of your cock is pushing into the tightest, most inviting hole—one long, deep thrust right up until the base, so her asshole can swallow every last inch in a single motion. 

Yuna clutches the sheets so tight, arching her back to push that ass up into the air. She's so tight that you can't even fathom it, this delicious clench around everything stuffed to the hilt—and there's nothing like this. Nobody gets this privilege, you believe. Nobody gets to indulge in the luxury of fucking Yuna's perfect, tight little asshole. Not a single person but you gets to make her moan quite this way. 

"Stop wasting time and fuck my ass. Pound me, p-please. Don't make me fucking beg." 

So much for savoring any of it. You sink your fingers right into her ridiculous hips, gripping her harder than usual to drag her backwards onto your cock. Hard enough to force this groan out of her—so needy and pathetic in the midst when your hips meet her bare ass. A brief moment to take it all in, before sliding almost entirely back and rocking forward with full force. 

"Oh my fucking god—my ass feels so full, shit—"

She's barely breathing between words, and you don't intend on helping her out in that regard at all when you're too busy staring at her red, tender cheeks, loving how they jiggle with every rock of your hips.

“Did you expect anything else?" you ask while giving her a good, harsh slap to that same spot where red is still clear as can be. With such a good view, it's impossible to do anything other than drive deep and begin pounding her mercilessly. "A pathetic fucking slut like you deserves nothing but a rough fuck. And that's what you're gonna get." 

Yuna does little but spew moans and throw her head back when your cock buries deep in her ass. This tightness never gets old, your hips on a mission to bury in her and hit all the places Yuna loves, enough to get her drooling all over your pillows. But her asshole—as snug, warm, and irresistible as it is, you can’t fathom how hard she squeezes every time you drill forward, showing no signs of restraint.

"S-so good," she lets out through short gasps, her face buried in the pillows and her teeth biting your sheets hard. “Love when you treat me like a fucking toy, daddy—"

"Yuna, that's exactly what you are," you tell her while you're so deep in her ass it's almost overwhelming. "So tight, I'll never stop pounding you, fuck. Tightest little hole I've ever fucked."

Yuna glances over her shoulder, while you get a good, tight grip on her hair and tug so she clenches harder, with every stroke balls fucking deep—as rough as you think she needs it. Even as the sound of your cock reaming her ass echoes throughout the entire room, nothing could possibly be enough. 

Your unrelenting, deep thrusts into Yuna's asshole cause the whole damn bed to creak from the violent force of your strokes, pulling her hair harder for that extra roughness she loves. 

No break, not the slightest pause until you absolutely have to—because you could do this all day and not grow tired of the way Yuna moans or how her cheeks bounce when you slam into them. Those cheeks that you get a tight handful of—palms full, and dig your fingers in for some leverage while your thrusts turn animalistic, barely in control at this point. 

But Yuna can take it, you can see it in that fucked out expression. The pleasure written all over her features while her mouth falls open as you show her no mercy—spreading her ass just so you can marvel at your cock hammering in and out, stretched out so wide around you.

"So good, g-god, so deep, love how deep your cock goes," Yuna can barely get out, like it takes all the energy out of her. You know you're not anywhere near wearing her out, not while watching your dick destroy her asshole.

"Not enough?" 

“N-not even fucking close. Give me all you've got, come on," she pleads for in this broken, muffled whine with her face shoved so far against your sheets she can barely breathe. 

Another deep thrust, enough force behind that slams the bed against the wall, loud enough to compete with the sound of her ass slapping against your hips. And when you draw back again, you grab her delicate little wrists, pulling her arms behind her back and using them as leverage—so Yuna can't do anything at all but let her asshole get wrecked.

"More, more—keep fucking pounding my tight ass, come on. D-don't stop, daddy. You know I'm fucking addicted to this fat cock," Yuna pleads so pathetically, immobile and helpless, taking whatever comes next with her arms hostage and your cock impaling her to the hilt.

Your hips do exactly that. Fucking her ass in quick strokes until all she does is cry out for you to destroy her, and then some. Yuna takes everything, the groans and yelps when you give no chance for recovery, the thrusts so deep and noises more depraved by the second. Her wrists pinned by the small of her back so she doesn't even have the chance of touching her swollen clit.

"That cock in my ass feels so fucking amazing. Oh my fucking god, fuck me, fuck my asshole as deep as possible."

When you yank her body back, your hands stay locked around her wrists with enough force for her to gasp. But you’re too busy pummeling her ass to even get a word out—too focused on that impossible tightness wrapped around your cock, the  perfect grip around every inch like it's trying to force you to cum.

"Better get used to this, slut. My cock is going to keep wrecking your tight little ass over and over again for the next two days. And maybe even longer if you really deserve it."

Her wrists go free, only for your hands to find her delicious hips again, slamming back in and using all the momentum to crash into Yuna as hard as your body can muster—until she's pinned flat onto your mattress, trapped right under you without a single break between the thrusts that hit at a different angle. 

With your legs spread on either side of her, your torso stays flat against her naked back, keeping your weight right down over her small frame. The bed shakes each time you enter the deepest parts of her ass, every single stroke her greedy hole swallows up and demands even more than you can possibly offer. 

"That's it, j-just like that. Just keep fucking my ass, love the way that you ruin it—"

"Yuna—" You bring a harsh smack down across her reddened, sore cheek to really punctuate each thrust. "You think I wouldn’t when your ass is squeezing my cock so fucking good?"

Every bit of movement between the two of you happens right where your skin is pressed against hers—sweat on her body indistinguishable from the sweat on yours. Hands around her hips so you can keep a nice, possessive grip while you relentlessly drive forward to pound her body into your mattress, no chance of lasting much longer now. Not with the way you're drilling her, no chance at all.

And yet, you can't tear your eyes away from how her ass looks getting pounded, bouncing every time your hips make contact with the reddened cheeks of her ass.

"If you fuck me any harder, you might actually break this bed," Yuna gasps out, laughter still coming to her lips despite how ruined and breathless she is. That sounds like a good option, if you can’t help it, no matter how rough you need to be with her. Yuna is beyond that—insatiable and incapable of getting satisfied for very long at all, the way most people would. 

But that doesn't mean you won't give your all for this performance. So you get back on your knees, getting each hand full of Yuna's plump ass, sinking your fingertips as much as humanly possible to watch your cock destroy this perfect girl. 

"Then I'll keep going, until we've destroyed my entire goddamn bedroom. That's how much I love pounding your ass."

She just giggles until a moan replaces it, lost in all these noises. You won't stop, not if your legs give out from exhaustion. Every hard and deep thrust has your eyes fixed upon where your hips meet those decadent cheeks. With Yuna face down on her stomach, there’s no better view to watch how well your cock stretches her hole open. 

"You're getting there, I can feel it," she taunts. You hate that you can’t even see her face, but you know she’s grinning. Smug little brat. "Go ahead, fill this tight, little asshole. Use it until you cum."

And she just gets you so riled up, that it's inevitable, as soon as those words leave Yuna's mouth. "I cannot believe I went this long without my cock inside you. When you say it out loud, it just sounds—"

"Crazy? Come on. I know it drove you crazy. The only time you're actually fucking happy is when this big dick is buried in my ass. Not just inside some random girl who's not me, or a warm mouth who's not mine."

God, do you hate when she's right. Hate it with every fiber of your being, but you don't even have time to think about anything else, because these soft cheeks you're palming so hard is the thing that's about to break you first. That same voice that you can't stand on most days, is what helps you unravel—what brings you to that delirious edge and drives your hips with full force for these last few deep thrusts that rattle the bed. 

You start to lose full control, snapping your hips a little too fast, once, twice—before finally bottoming out with her name on your lips and erupting deep inside her ass. It's unstoppable, filling her with your thick, messy release in each deep throb when your cock pumps Yuna full, her asshole accepting it with each final burst of tightness.

"There you go, fucking cum in my ass," Yuna moans out as those harsh clenches milk everything out of you. You ride that high for as long as possible, each furious thrust pumping your seed deep inside, each hammering her body into the mattress—again and again until your balls have nothing left. 

Even after then, your hips don’t cease, fucking the rest of your load deeper inside her tight, filled hole. You can already see your release trickling out, her ass stuffed too full and overflowing with your cum already. "F-fuck, there's so fucking much, it's so thick—oh my god, daddy came so much…” 

Yuna sighs out into the silence, while you're left holding those sore cheeks to catch your breath. Both of you struggling to recover. 

"That's like, several days worth of cum in your ass," you say, dragging your spent cock out of her to get a good look, holding her cheeks spread apart as it flows in a thick mess between her thighs. Your fingers slide right into that gaping, ruined asshole, pushing back whatever cum threatens to drip out.

"Jesus, Yuna. Look at how much is spilling out. Was worried I actually broke you there for a moment when you're this tight."

"Nope. Still perfect. And it's still not enough," Yuna says, insatiable as ever. Only then do you start to peel yourself off of her, her worn-out body a complete sweat-covered mess.

“Too bad. You fucking drained me dry, you greedy slut."

Yuna laughs, and when she rolls over on her back to face you, she's the image of perfection: hair matted all against her forehead with sweat, makeup a bit smeared, her lips and cheeks redder than usual—ruined but still absolutely stunning.

“Like you could ever run out. Not when I'm around…” 

Yuna shifts right in front of you until she's directly in front of your gaze and kneeling between your legs. She smiles up at you and her mouth gets right back on your throbbing, sensitive cockhead. Each obscene slurp makes it a little harder to convince yourself that she shouldn't be staying for the weekend, because you might not ever let her leave. While not a day goes by without you hating her guts, not a day goes by without wanting to pin her up against a wall and fuck her senseless.

Her mouth slides deep, cleaning off everything, and her lips, her tongue running against the slit, and the cute expression the whole time, god—this girl is going to be the death of you.

She drags her tongue in slow, gentle swipes around the head, sucking every single drop clean and looking for more. There's not a single bit of reluctance—her wet mouth eagerly cleaning up your shaft in long strokes. Then she slides both hands around your hips and shoves you back, knocking you off balance until you hit the mattress. Yuna doesn’t give you a second to recover, already between your legs again. 

Now you're the helpless one, that hot little mouth working to fit the entire thick length down her throat. You don't even care about the overstimulation, not with this view of Yuna bobbing her head, those lips sealed tight. 

"Fuck, you’re crazy—“ you let out, running fingers through her messy hair, while Yuna ignores you and devours your spent cock, balls deep down her throat until she gags the slightest bit.

"You love it, though. Because it means you’re gonna fuck me harder now.” 

Maybe you do regret ever opening the door for her and letting her inside your apartment to ruin her. Or maybe you're the one ruined instead. You're not entirely sure at this point. 

"You're gonna have to wait, not everything is at full capacity yet." Yuna cocks her head to the side, stopping her full strokes so she can crawl up and get comfortable on top of you, until you're face to face, inches apart. 

"Daddy got too worn out pounding my ass? Is that my fault?"

All you have the energy for is to brush away strands of her disheveled hair out of the way, so you can stare at her gorgeous face. "Yes. And you can stop calling me that. One time thing, remember?"

Yuna giggles. "No—one time won't be enough. You know I like saying it."

You can’t even hide the sigh that escapes. But you should have known better, you suppose, for letting the floodgates open and allowing her that one time. Now you'll never hear the end of it, and it's going to be rolling off her lips the next time she begs you to fuck her again.

"You'll never listen to anything I say ever, will you?"

You already know the answer to that. But you’ll still indulge in her lips, this unexpected soft kiss after all the roughness. After all the debauchery of tonight, it’s what you both need. 

"Definitely not," Yuna replies, eyes wide and bright. “You’re just gonna have to find a way to shut me up—daddy."

You hate that word with a passion, you'd hate it if you were to hear anyone else say it to you—but for some reason, hearing that coming from those pouty lips, you hate even more that you might grow to love it the same amount. "You get to stay the weekend, and not a minute longer. Got it?"

There's this knowing glint in her eyes, all too confident that you'll break and think otherwise. "Don't be so sure about that. After one more night, you'll be begging me to stay an entire month. Begging me."

A roll of your eyes, and a laugh that’s far too loud escapes, because in truth, she's most certainly right. It's this push and pull between wanting her far away and wanting her around more than ever.

"Yuna, don't push your fucking luck," you warn, the last remnants of trying to distract from the truth.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think? I've pushed far past my limit. Might as well just start moving my things here."

That's a step too far. You'll fuck her brains out as many times as she needs, you'll even allow her to sleep in your bed for as many nights as she wants. This is already too domestic for your liking, but the thought of her staying here without giving you a moment's break? You'd rather perish.

"Absolutely fucking not. Don't even joke about that, Yuna."

"I was kidding," she insists, playing with the locks of your hair, not bothered at all by the agony on your face. "I'm here to get dicked down, that's it. I don't need to take over your whole apartment just to make sure my asshole is stretched." 

"Jesus, Yuna. Why the fuck are you so—"

"Insatiable? Hot? Good at deepthroating you until you explode down my throat? Because it's fun to see you get so flustered, daddy." 

Another one slips past her lips. You're just going to have to live with it at this point, she's so obsessed getting a reaction out of you, and you make it so easy for her. "Fuck off, I do not get flustered. And you need to stop saying that."

"No fucking chance. I'm going to call you that every single time you pound me. I'm going to scream it while you shove my face into your pillows and fuck the shit out of me, while you fold me up and choke me, get me on my knees and gag me until I'm drooling—"

"Yuna, I am not fucking you for at least another hour. Maybe even two."

"That's fine. We don't have to fuck at all, because my ass still fucking hurts,” she says, letting out a noise somewhere near a giggle and a sigh all at once. “I'm going to feel those welts you left on me forever, that belt made my ass so fucking sore that I'm surprised I can even walk. Just thinking about it makes me fucking drip—“

"Could you be any bigger of a slut than you already are?" 

Yuna shakes her head, this soft smile as if your insults only spur her on, as they seem to do. "Never. Not even if I tried." 

[smutmind]

Backseat Deal

IVE Wonyoung X Male Reader

“You know I’m still mad at you, right?”

Wonyoung climbed into the backseat, hair loose and wild from hours under stage lights. Her black ribbed bodycon dress clung to every inch of her, riding up her thighs the second she straddled your lap.

“Five days,” she said, tapping your chest with her nail. “No calls, no kisses, and I still caught you watching my TikToks at two in the morning.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are.”

“Because I’m generous,” she said, rolling her hips once. “You didn’t bitch once this week. Didn’t blow up my phone. You earned a little something.”

She leaned forward. Her breath smelled like lemon tea and leftover gloss. Her messy hair tickled your neck as she whispered, “Bet you’ve been dreaming about fucking this dress off me.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

She laughed—low, bratty, proud.

“Show me how much you missed me,” she purred, sliding off your lap and kneeling between your legs.

Her fingers were slow and deliberate, undoing your jeans while keeping eye contact. “You ever think about how lucky you are? Having me like this? Sneaking off in designer heels to suck your dick?”

You groaned. “Every damn day.”

She giggled, brushing your cock with her lips. “Say please.”

“…Please.”

Wonyoung's smile spread slow and dangerous across her gloss-slick lips. Her nails dragged lightly over your thigh, just enough to make you twitch.

“That’s it?” she asked. “That’s your big moment?”

You opened your mouth, but she was already moving.

She leaned in and kissed the tip once—soft, barely there—then sat back on her heels and stared.

“You beg like a virgin,” she teased. “Cute. Desperate. Kind of pathetic.”

Your breath hitched. She noticed.

Her hand gripped you, loose at first, just gliding over the spit she left behind. She watched your face, waiting for that flicker of tension between your brows. The one she knew meant this is getting to you.

“You miss my mouth that bad?” she asked.

You nodded, jaw tight. “Wonyoung…”

“Oh, we’re using real names now?” she laughed, bending back down. “Then I definitely win.”

Her tongue flicked once across the underside, slow, almost scientific. Just a sample. Then another flick. Then a long, hot drag from base to tip that left you gasping.

“Fuck, your thighs are shaking,” she muttered, clearly delighted.

She opened her mouth and finally took you in—not deep, not even halfway—just enough to wrap her lips around the head and suck.

Hard.

Your hips jerked, and she pulled off immediately with a wicked smirk. “Aww. Too much?”

You swallowed. “Tease.”

“I’m your tease,” she said, licking a fat circle around the head. “Don’t forget it.”

Then she dropped her voice. “Do you think about this? Me, down here, making a mess on your lap?”

“All the time.”

She beamed. “Good. I want you obsessed.”

She took you in again—this time deeper, letting her lips slide further, slower. Her hair spilled across your lap in waves, tangling with the friction of her movements.

Her mouth was warm, tight, impossibly soft. She built a rhythm—not rushed, but relentless. Down. Up. Suck. Moan. A light graze of teeth, just to hear you grunt.

“You’re so loud tonight,” she said between strokes. “Not scared someone might walk by?”

“I don’t care.”

“Mmm. I do love when you’re reckless.”

She spit in her hand and pumped once, watching your eyes roll back. “Look at you. I disappear for five days and you’re ready to blow just from this?”

Her tone dropped, filthier now. “Is this what you wanted while you were scrolling my pictures? Bet you were so fucking hard watching me wave and smile at them.”

You groaned.

She laughed and went back down, bobbing now, quicker. Her throat started taking more—then all.

Then nothing.

She pulled off and sat back again, panting slightly, her lips glossy and swollen.

“Say thank you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Say it,” she whispered, jerking you slow, milking you. “Thank me for coming all this way just to suck you off.”

“…Thank you.”

She smiled like you handed her a crown.

Then she stuffed you back into her mouth and sucked—loud and wet and obscene, like she’d been starving for it. No hesitation now. No games.

Just pressure and motion and breathy moans that vibrated around your cock like a threat.

You barely held it in. She knew.

“You’re close, huh?” she said, hand gripping the base, slowly stroking you. “So twitchy… like you’re about to explode.”

You nodded, jaw clenched. “Fuck—yeah.”

Her smile sharpened.

“Good.” She tilted her head, letting her hair fall across one shoulder, completely unbothered. “Then come all over my face.”

You blinked. “What?”

She giggled. “You heard me. I want it messy.”

Then she stuck out her tongue and kept stroking, harder now, her hand slick and fast. Her eyes locked on yours—challenging, amused, hungry.

“Don’t even think about looking away,” she warned. “You blow it, you look me in the eye while I wear it.”

That was all it took.

Your breath shattered as you came—hot, thick ropes splashing across her cheek, her mouth, the bridge of her nose. She didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just sat there and took it, proud as ever, her tongue catching the last of it.

She laughed softly as you twitched through the aftershocks, wiping under her eye with the back of her hand, inspecting the mess.

“God,” she whispered. “You really missed me, huh?”

You were still panting.

She leaned in and kissed your neck, leaving a sticky print.

“Next time,” she murmured, licking a drop from her lip, “I want it in my hair too. Just to punish my stylist.”

She sat back, wiping her face with her fingers, then licking them clean one by one like it was nothing.

Like it was yours.

“Drive me home,” she said, grabbing your shirt to pat her cheek dry. “Or don’t. Either way, I’m not done with you.”

------ Not really a fan of hers, but this photoshoot is fire. Hope you liked this one

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[chrissssssmut]

Karina winter yeji yuna school smut?

AFTER SCHOOL

Karina, Winter, Yeji and Yuna x Male Reader

I should’ve known something was off the moment Ms. Shin smiled at me during homeroom. That too-sweet kind of smile teachers use when they’re about to ruin your afternoon.

"You’ve been falling behind," she said, tapping her red pen against a stack of missed assignments. "So I’m assigning you to a group for academic support."

My stomach sank.

She continued, writing names at the top of my worksheet with smooth, deliberate strokes.

"Karina. Winter. Yeji. And Yuna. They'll… keep you on task."

I blinked. Thought she was joking. But when I looked over to the corner of the room, all four of them were staring at me—smiling.

Not the friendly kind of smile, either.

Fast forward to now. The final bell has rung. The classroom is empty. Door locked. Blinds down. Lights dim.

And I’m sitting at a desk, laptop in front of me, surrounded by four girls who look like they’re about to pounce.

Karina stands behind me with her arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. Winter leans against the chalkboard like she owns the place. Yeji is seated right on my desk, legs swinging lazily, skirt hiked a little too high. Yuna is in the corner by the windows, playing with the buttons of her blouse.

Winter speaks first. Her voice is soft, cool. Dangerous.

"You're gonna open that laptop," she says, slowly walking toward me. "You're gonna finish everything on that worksheet. And you're not leaving until it’s done."

I open my mouth to protest, but she smiles.

"Unless," she adds, "you need a different kind of motivation."

My throat dries. “Motivation?”

Karina leans down behind me. I feel her breath on my ear before I even hear her voice.

“We’re very… persuasive,” she whispers, fingers brushing my shoulders. “But you have to follow instructions. Exactly. No excuses.”

“Okay,” I mutter, voice shaky. “I’ll work.”

Yeji chuckles and crosses one leg over the other, leaning in until her face is inches from mine.

“You’re gonna be such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Her fingers hook around the loose knot of my school tie. She yanks it gently, pulling me forward until my nose nearly brushes the lace trim of her underwear.

“We’ll make it worth your while,” she says, lips curling into a wicked smirk.

Across the room, Yuna lets out a breathy laugh. Her blouse is halfway unbuttoned now, bare skin peeking through.

“I hope you weren’t planning on leaving early,” she says, tossing her bra onto my open notebook like it’s just another school supply. “Because we’re not stopping until we break you.”

My heart is thundering in my chest. I open the laptop with trembling hands.

Winter moves behind me, sliding her fingers up under my uniform shirt. Her nails rake gently over my ribs, sending a full-body shiver up my spine.

Karina kneels beside my chair, her hands already at my belt.

She looks up at me with calm, unreadable eyes. “Let us take care of the distractions,” she murmurs. “You just type.”

My pants slide down. My boxers go next.

I barely get to the first question on the worksheet before Yeji grabs my jaw and turns my face toward her inner thigh.

“Finish the first page,” she purrs. “You get a taste.”

Karina’s lips wrap around me under the desk. I almost fall off the chair.

She takes her time, tongue working in slow, torturous swirls, lips soft but firm. My hands twitch on the keyboard.

“Don’t stop typing,” Yuna says, hopping up to sit on the desk beside me. She grabs my wrist and pulls it under her skirt. “But keep these fingers busy too, yeah?”

She moans softly as my fingers slip into her, wet and tight and so very ready.

Winter presses her chest against my back, her breath hot on my neck. “I’m going to ride you soon,” she whispers. “But if you cum before we say so…”

She drags her tongue over the shell of my ear.

“…we’ll start everything over from the beginning.”

Karina moans around my cock, her head bobbing rhythmically. Every time I twitch, she just sucks harder, like she’s daring me to lose control. Like she wants to see me beg.

“Focus,” Yeji says, eyes flicking down to my screen. “Get to question five.”

I’m drenched in sweat. Muscles tense. My brain is short-circuiting from sensation overload. I don’t even remember what I’m typing.

Winter slides onto my lap, lifting her skirt. No panties.

She sinks down onto me in one smooth motion.

I bite down a scream.

“You like that?” she whispers, hips grinding slow and deep. “You’re doing so well… but we’re not even halfway done.”

Yuna leans forward, tongue trailing a wet stripe up my chest, giggling as she sucks one of my nipples between her lips. Her hand stays between her legs, grinding against my fingers like a girl possessed.

Yeji’s rocking against my thigh now, one hand tangled in my hair, the other squeezing her own breast beneath her uniform. She watches me like a predator, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every helpless moan I make.

Karina’s still beside the chair, stroking me every time Winter lifts herself up. Her hand moves in sync with Winter’s rhythm. Precise. Lethal.

“You’re going to cum soon,” Karina whispers. “Aren’t you?”

I nod, frantically, stupidly. I can’t hold on.

“No,” Yeji snaps, grabbing my face. “You wait.”

Winter tightens around me, grinding harder, her eyes fluttering shut. “Almost there,” she groans. “Don’t you dare cum until the worksheet’s done.”

I’m dying.

Everything burns. Everything pulses.

Karina strokes harder. Yuna moans louder. Winter rides faster.

Then Karina leans in, lips brushing my ear.

“Last question,” she says, voice honey-sweet. “If you get it right…”

Winter kisses me, full and messy and possessive.

“…we’ll let you cum.”

I slam the final key.

Everything explodes.

Winter cries out, clenching tight. Yuna throws her head back, riding my fingers until her thighs shake. Yeji bites her lip, watching me with wild, hungry eyes as I finally let go.

I cum hard, body wracked with pleasure, every nerve on fire.

Karina strokes me through it, slow and loving, like she wants to milk every drop.

The classroom is filled with panting. Moans. The quiet hum of my laptop.

I’m ruined.

Shirt half-off. Tie gone. Skin marked with lipstick and scratches. My legs are jelly. Brain fried.

Yuna giggles, hopping off the desk and adjusting her skirt.

“You passed,” she says.

“Barely,” Yeji adds, licking her lips.

Winter pulls away from my lap and kisses my jaw, her eyes dark and gleaming. “Don’t fall behind again.”

Karina tucks my shirt back in gently, then kisses my forehead like I’m some kind of good boy she’s proud of.

“Or next time,” she murmurs, lips brushing mine, “we won’t be so gentle.”

The Next Day

I didn’t even argue this time when Ms. Shin told me I’d be finishing today’s work in the library.

She gave me the same knowing smile, the one that sent a shiver down my spine yesterday, and handed me a thick packet of revision problems.

“Quiet place. No distractions,” she said.

Right.

By now, I knew better than to think I’d be studying alone.

And sure enough, not ten minutes into flipping through the pages in one of the back rows—hidden between the history section and some dusty old encyclopedias—I heard soft footsteps. The rustle of skirts. Giggling.

I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

“You really thought you’d get away from us?” Yeji’s voice came first, teasing and low. “That’s cute.”

I looked up just as the four of them stepped into view, uniforms still perfect, but expressions anything but innocent.

Winter shut the book in my hands with a little snap. “Did you miss us?”

Karina knelt beside me again, just like yesterday, but this time she didn’t say anything. Just stared at me with that serene, unreadable gaze, her hand already sliding up my thigh like it belonged there.

Yuna leaned against the bookshelf behind me, stretching her arms over her head like she didn’t care who saw. "Ms. Shin says you need to improve your focus,” she said, licking her lips. “So we’re here to help.”

I glanced around the library. There were a few other students up front, maybe two tables away. The librarian’s desk was clear.

This was insane.

But the heat in my gut didn’t care.

“Guys,” I whispered. “We’ll get caught—”

“We know,” Karina murmured, fingers teasing the waistband of my pants. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Yeji leaned down and dragged her nails down my arm. “You’re already hard. Don’t pretend you’re innocent.”

Winter smirked and pulled a chair across from me, spinning it so she straddled it backward, arms resting on the top. “Here’s the deal,” she said. “You solve five problems. For each correct answer, you get a reward.”

“And if you get one wrong…” Yuna grinned wickedly, fingers playing with the edge of her skirt, “We punish you. Quietly.”

Karina’s hand slipped into my pants, and I choked on my own breath.

I tried. I tried to focus.

The first question was something about historical treaties. I scribbled an answer, hands shaking.

Karina stroked me slowly, watching my every reaction like she was cataloguing them.

Winter got up and circled around to my side. She bent down, her lips brushing my ear.

“Correct,” she whispered. “So you get this—”

Her tongue flicked against my earlobe. Then her hand dipped between my legs, joining Karina’s, making me twitch violently in my seat.

I gritted my teeth, eyes squeezing shut.

"Focus," Yeji sang from behind her hand, pretending to read a book. "You're making faces. They’ll notice.”

I forced myself to the second problem. It was barely legible now.

Behind me, Yuna crouched and slid her hand under the back of my shirt, her nails scratching lightly down my spine.

“Wrong,” she whispered. “You mixed up the year.”

She reached around and grabbed me harshly, jerking me once, twice—just enough to make me see stars—then letting go.

“Bad boys don’t get to cum,” she hissed.

“Third question,” Karina said calmly. “If you get it right, maybe we’ll let you taste one of us.”

I nodded frantically and filled in the blank. Something about revolutions.

Winter peeked over my shoulder and smirked. “Close enough.”

Yeji pulled her chair closer and lifted one leg onto the table.

“No hands,” she whispered. “Just your mouth.”

I looked around—no one close.

Heart hammering, I leaned forward.

Yeji shivered when my tongue found her, legs trembling as she bit her fist to keep from moaning.

“You’re good at this,” she gasped. “Fuck—don’t stop—”

Karina gripped my chin and pulled me back.

“Fourth problem,” she said coolly. “Let’s see if your brain still works with your mouth busy.”

I barely read it. My hands were shaking. I circled an answer and prayed.

Winter checked it.

Then bent down, lifted her skirt, and sat on my lap, no underwear again.

“I’ll allow it,” she breathed, sinking down onto me.

I choked back a moan as her warmth enveloped me, and she immediately began grinding, slow and cruel and tight.

“Don’t. Make. A. Sound,” she hissed.

The table shifted slightly. Books wobbled.

Karina looked toward the front of the library.

“Shit,” she whispered. “Librarian’s coming.”

Yuna moved quickly, yanking a nearby blanket someone had left draped on the study chair and tossing it over my lap. Winter stayed perfectly still, biting her lip hard.

Yeji opened a book and leaned forward, pretending to read with exaggerated focus.

Karina sat back against the shelves, legs crossed, innocent as a nun.

The librarian’s heels clicked closer.

“Everything alright back here?” she asked.

I froze.

Winter didn’t. Her walls clenched.

“Just helping him study,” Karina said smoothly. “He’s working hard.”

The librarian hummed. “Good. Keep it down.”

As soon as she turned and walked off, Winter exhaled hard against my neck and began to ride me again, slower now, deliberately cruel.

“You’re not cumming until the last question’s done,” she whispered. “And we’re all satisfied.”

Yuna climbed onto the table and straddled my chest, pulling my face to her dripping heat. “Make up for question two,” she said.

Yeji stroked herself as she watched me tongue Yuna open, her moans muffled against her arm. Karina leaned down and whispered filth into my ear, her hands tugging and teasing me every time Winter lifted herself up.

“I’m close,” Winter gasped. “Hold on—don’t cum—”

“I’m—shit—I’m gonna—” I couldn’t hold it.

Karina’s nails dug into my thigh.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

Then everything blurred—Yuna came with a high, desperate whimper, Yeji followed moments after with a strangled moan, and Winter finally gasped my name as she pulsed around me, trembling.

Only then did Karina pull my face to hers and kiss me like she owned me.

“You did better today,” she said, stroking me slowly. “We’re proud.”

Winter slid off, carefully pulling the blanket back over my lap.

I was soaked. Spent. Fucked half-senseless.

Karina whispered, “You can finish now,” and stroked me just right.

I came so hard I almost saw white.

We cleaned up quietly—well, they did. I could barely move.

Karina kissed my temple.

Yeji fixed my tie.

Yuna tucked the worksheet into my bag.

Winter licked her fingers clean and winked. “Same time tomorrow?”

I nodded, dazed.

“Good,” Karina said softly. “Because next time…”

She leaned in, lips brushing mine.

“…we’re not letting you leave at all.”

It had been one day since the library.

One day since Karina whispered filth in my ear while riding me behind a bookshelf. One day since Winter, Yeji, and Yuna took turns teasing me to the edge with eyes locked on the door, waiting to see if someone—anyone—would walk in and catch us.

No one did.

But someone noticed.

“Come see me after class,” Ms. Shin said, sliding a post-it on my desk as she walked by.

No explanation. No expression. Just the quiet weight of her words and the way her eyes lingered on me… like she was studying a lie.

Karina leaned over from behind me. “She called you?”

I nodded.

“She knows,” Yeji said from the next desk, not even bothering to whisper.

“She suspects,” Winter corrected, looking too calm. “There’s a difference.”

Yuna, chewing on the tip of her pen, smiled lazily. “So what? She can’t prove anything.”

Karina’s fingers trailed up the back of my neck. “She doesn’t have to prove it. She just has to separate us.”

The idea made my stomach twist.

After the bell, I made my way to Ms. Shin’s office, heart pounding like a drumline. Her door was cracked open.

“Close it,” she said without turning around.

I obeyed.

She didn’t look at me at first. Just tapped her pen against a sheet of paper.

“I’ve taught here for eight years,” she said finally. “And I’ve never had a group as... close-knit as yours.”

I stayed silent.

“The four of them cling to you like satellites. Always orbiting. Always watching. And you… you’ve changed.”

“I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she said sharply, cutting me off. “You’re distracted. Your posture, your eyes. You flinch when someone touches your shoulder. And your test scores are slipping.”

I clenched my fists.

“If something’s happening between you and those girls—something inappropriate—you need to tell me now.”

She turned toward me, eyes sharp and concerned.

“I can help you. I can reassign you. I can call your parents if you're too scared to say anything.”

“I’m not scared,” I said, too quickly.

“So there is something,” she murmured.

Shit.

I backpedaled fast. “No. I just meant—I don’t need help. There’s nothing going on.”

Ms. Shin leaned back slowly, searching my face.

“You’re a smart boy,” she said. “But you’re not a good liar.”

The room felt like it was shrinking.

“If I find out they’ve coerced you—”

“They didn’t,” I snapped.

That caught her off guard.

“They didn’t coerce me. It’s not… like that.”

“So what is it, then?” she asked.

I couldn’t answer. Because the truth was messier than anything she was imagining.

Karina walking into my room without knocking. Winter crawling into my lap with a hungry look. Yeji pinning me to a wall during break. Yuna whispering threats into my ear with a smile on her lips and her hand down my pants.

It wasn’t coercion.

It was obsession.

And it was mutual.

“I just want to focus on school,” I said, the lie catching in my throat. “That’s all.”

Ms. Shin looked unconvinced.

“You’ll work with me from now on,” she said. “No more group projects. No more ‘study sessions.’ You stay after school, here, under my supervision.”

“I—”

“That’s final.”

I left the office feeling like I’d been sentenced.

They were waiting.

Outside the classroom. All four of them.

Karina leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Winter looked like she already knew what happened.

Yeji tilted her head. “How bad?”

“She’s pulling me from the group,” I muttered.

Yuna blinked. “She what?”

“She wants me working under her from now on.”

Karina stepped forward. “She’s trying to isolate you.”

Winter grabbed my hand. “That’s not going to happen.”

Yeji glanced down the hallway. “Where is she now?”

“She’s still in her office,” I said. “Planning whatever ‘private sessions’ she has in mind.”

Yuna smiled, slow and feral. “So we beat her to it.”

“What?”

Karina took my wrist, firm and final. “Storage room. Now.”

The door clicked shut behind us.

No light. Just shadows and breath.

Winter pinned me against the shelf first. “She wants to protect you?”

Yeji’s hands slid under my shirt. “She wants to own you.”

Karina was unbuttoning my pants already. “But she’s too late.”

Yuna pulled her skirt up. “We claimed you first.”

The girls didn’t take turns this time. They swarmed.

Hands everywhere—Karina’s mouth on my neck, Winter’s fingers around my length, Yeji licking up my chest, Yuna grinding on my thigh.

I tried to speak. Couldn’t.

“You don’t want her,” Winter whispered against my ear. “You want this.”

“You want us,” Karina hissed, sinking down onto me before I could even gasp. “Say it.”

“I want you,” I groaned, biting my lip to muffle it.

Karina rode me hard, fast, one hand clamped over my mouth while Yeji held my hips still. Winter and Yuna knelt below, licking and moaning, their tongues trailing over everything Karina left exposed.

“I’ll go to her office,” Yuna whispered between licks. “I’ll tell her to back off.”

Karina moaned. “If she doesn’t... we’ll make her.”

The climax hit hard and fast, Karina milking me dry while the other girls moaned, whispering about how they’d keep me hidden forever if they had to.

Afterward, they dressed me, button by button, fixing my tie like nothing had happened.

“She’s watching,” Karina said. “We know.”

Winter cupped my cheek. “She’ll try to separate us.”

Yuna kissed me softly. “Let her try.”

Yeji leaned close, voice like velvet. “If she takes you… we’ll take you back.”

[ugokuna]

he's the type to notice the way your knee is shaking from anxiety and puts his hand on your knee before continuing to watch the other presentations in class before yours starts next.

he's the type to put his hand over the sharp corner of the table when he sees you bend down to pick up an object that was dropped while still being able to continue stirring the ingredients in the bowl.

he's the type to abruptly pull you to the side by the hoodie when he notices you walking just a little too close to the upcoming light pole. he can't even scold you because you're deep in conversation with your friend. he nearly trips on his own two feet when he sees you turn back to him and mouth a 'thank you' to him when you have a break in your conversation.

he's the type to hand you a napkin when he sees your hand mindlessly moving around the table top, not even sparing him a single glance as you take it from his hand, wipe your mouth with it, and continue on your talk about the latest gossip during dinner.

he's the type to tear the paper wrap away from the straw and put it in your drink and give your usual order to the waiter by the time you come back from the bathroom.

he's the type to poke his fork into the strawberry and feed it to you as you manage to type up your essay and hold a conversation with him, too busy to realize what he's doing. you don't even notice how he quickly feeds himself a piece before giving you another one effortlessly, not once breaking the flow of the conversation.

he's the type to show up at your event that you casually dropped in the group chat for everyone to show up if they can. who, the moment he sees your face beam at spotting him in the crowd, offers you a smug smirk and a thumbs up as encouragement.

he's the type to follow you around the entire apartment as you recount your day to him as you do chores. who even mindlessly follows you to the bathroom and realizes a bit too late what he's done when he hears you shriek at him and push him out.

he's the type to not make a move at you at all. afraid to ruin whatever good thing he has going on with you. he'd rather always be there for you and have you in his life than to be cut off forever.

he's the type to have friends who notice all of this. who doesn't understand how the both of you aren't dating yet; especially when they notice the way your eyes always seem to find his in a crowded room. they see the way you laugh at his corny jokes and the way his eyes go straight to yours to gauze your reaction. the way you always run into his open arms first the moment you win at your event. it's so obvious and yet it's so infuriating and they can't help but watch from the sidelines with their popcorn.

+ roronoa zoro, KAJI REN, HIRAGI TOMA, fushiguro megumi, nicholas d. wolfwood, jason todd, sylus (l&ds), RYUGUJI "DRAKEN" KEN, levi ackerman, MAMMON (obey me), ichigo kurosaki, bakugo katsuki, iwaizumi hajime, kageyama tobio, MALLEUS DRACONIA, deuce spade and others...

[teliphone]

Limerence

Summary: Your relationship with Jaeyi is far from normal. It’s toxic, suffocating and obsessive. Students around you stay away from you to avoid trouble with Jaeyi. A new student enters which stirs things a little. Maybe she could be your escape? Or maybe it leads you to sink deeper into Jaeyi’s trap. 

Warning(s): Smut, Jealousy, Obessesion, Slapping, Chains, Fingering, Overstimulation, Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

-

Yoo Jaeyi and you walk down the halls next to each other… or rather you’re trying to keep up with her. Her hand tightly wraps around yours, pulling you to match speed with her. You let out a small grunt of pain at how hard she’s gripping. She stares forward, ignoring everyone. You spare one glance to the side. Students mumble with each other as they stare at you. They quickly look away when you make eye contact with them. It’s quite sad, you have soon realized. No one dared try to talk to you ever since you got into a relationship with her. All your friends have left you without any reason. You’re constantly stuck with Jaeyi and it's starting to drive you crazy. The only space she allows you is by letting you sit alone at your desk. She sits a few rows behind you, so she can watch every movement you make. 

Jaeyi drags you into her science lab. The little mice run around in their cages. It creeps you out. You never understood how she could easily test on those innocent mice. You pull back slightly to stop her. She narrows her eyes and finally turns around to look at you. You drop your shoulders in annoyance. You aggressively jerk your hands away from her before crossing your arms. 

“What are you doing?” You fum. She breaks into a smile as she straightens her back. 

“I want to spend time with you,” She chirps. You roll your eyes and let out a laugh of disbelief. 

“I’ve been with you all day. Can’t I just spend some time somewhere else?” You huff. She turns around and walks deeper into the lab. She opens one of the cages and picks up a small mouse. She completely ignored you. You can feel your frustration building up. You hate when she blatantly ignores you. 

“I am leaving,” You mumble before walking towards the door. You didn’t wait for her response. You knew she was going to find you anyway. No matter how far you try to hide and escape from her, she always seems to find a way to get you. It scares and baffles you. But what scares you the most is if she leaves you. She has removed everyone in your life… all you have left is her. You need her. You pause at the door handle.

“I’ll… text you,” You hesitate before exiting. Jaeyi secretly smirks as she lifts the mice to her face. 

“Cute,” She mumbles directing it to you.  

-

Class today is different. You stare at the new student, Woo Seulgi, standing in front of the class. She looks innocent and lost. Your eyes scan down to see her fidgeting with the ends of her uniform. Your lips broke into a small smile. You wonder if she could survive in this toxic school. She makes eye contact with you and you smile at her—a small one with no further meaning. You didn’t pay much attention to her after that. Returning to working on your homework. Suddenly you feel a presence beside you. 

“...Can I sit here?” She softly asks. Her doe eyes are cute. The students in the room mumble against themselves. Your seat is usually empty. No one wanted to disturb your studying and gave you space. But truthfully it's because they don’t want to get in between you and Jaeyi. They fear what she could do to them. 

“Yes,” You finally answer. You didn’t care what Jaeyi would think. You've had enough of her controlling your life. You can hear a couple of students softly gasping and mumbling. Seulgi smiles and takes a seat. You stare at her a little bit before looking down at your textbook. Jaeyi quietly analyzes the scene before her. Her facade doesn’t break. In fact, she smiles. It gets her excited. She finds you cute for trying to break her rules and not knowing what it will cause you. 

-

It’s a few minutes after break and you walk back to class. You slide the doors of the classroom open to find it empty. You return earlier than the others. You make your way to your desk til a phone notification catches your attention. You scan the room to make sure you aren’t mistaken. You locate the noises coming from Jaeyi’s desk. You look around to make sure no one is around. Her phone buzzes against her desk a few more times. You couldn’t help but find it interesting that she would leave her phone. With curious eyes, you go to look at her texts. 

‘Please delete the video’

‘I apologized!’

‘I’ll do anything you want!’

Your eyes widen in confusion. What video is this person talking about that they desperately want Jaeyi to delete it? Is she blackmailing someone? Before your thoughts can continue, the door slides open. You quickly glance away from her phone. Jaeyi stands at the door staring back at you. There is an unreadable look on her face. She smiles, but her eyes are emotionless. You slightly gulp and avert your stare. You walk to your desk and act like you weren’t caught red-handed. Jaeyi slowly walks past you while staring at you. You feel your heart racing. She takes a seat on her desk and lifts her phone. Her eyes swiftly read the text messages. She glances up from her phone to stare at you with heavy-lidded eyes. 

She knows you saw it. 

She slides off her desk. You hear her footsteps coming closer from behind. You unconsciously straighten your back. Your awareness heightens. She places her hand on top of your shoulders and grips. Your breathing hicks. She leans her body down til her lips touch your ears.

“Don’t tell anyone,” She whispers softly. You secretly clench your fist underneath the desk. She smirks and tilts her head to look at your face. You quickly stand up to get away from her. Her presence is too suffocating. The sweet scent of her perfume is enough to make your brain numb. Your action causes her to widen her eyes and step backward. You tug the green uniform closer to your body before glaring at her. You fascinate her without even trying. From behind, you can hear the sounds of more students entering the room. They all freely talk amongst themselves happily.

“I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t involve me,” You speak in a low tone. Little did you know, it does involve you. Everything Jaeyi does involves you whether you like it or not. Her lips slowly turn into a small smirk. You didn’t wait for her response and turned your body around. Right at that moment, a student accidentally bumps into you. The drink in her hand falls onto the white of your shirt. You can feel the cold liquid seep into the cloth. She gasps and immediately starts apologizing. You are stunned for a moment before forcing a small smile. 

“It’s okay,”

“No no, I will pay for you,” She splutters. She starts running her hands over your shirt to try and clean it. Her face expresses such stress and embarrassment. Her movement causes the liquid to spread, making your shirt translucent. You softly grab onto her wrist to stop her. 

“I said it’s okay,” You repeat. She stops moving and stares at you with pitiful eyes. Her poor heart feels like it’s escaping her chest. She nervously looks over to see Jaeyi staring at her with a blank expression. You let go of her hand and start walking to the door. You expect Jaeyi to follow you, but she doesn’t. You secretly feel sad and disappointed about it. 

You enter the bathroom and slowly take off your uniform. This leaves you with just a bra on. You plop the white shirt into the sink and switch on the water. You quietly listen and watch the water drench your shirt. You tilt your head to look at the ceiling and let out a deep sigh. What a hassle. You didn’t have an extra pair of shirts meaning you would have to wear this wet shirt back to class. You reach down into the sink and start scrubbing the material. After a few minutes of scrubbing, you lift the shirt to examine it. Water drips at the edges. Good enough. You wring the shirt til it's somewhat dry and put it back on. The coldness makes you shiver. You just have to suffer through til the end of class. 

You take a seat, slightly shivering. The air feels so cold against the wetness of your shirt. It feels uncomfortable having to be in a class like this. You avoid the stares of other students as you take out your textbooks. Among the students, one is particularly more interested. Jaeyi can't stop staring at you as you try to pay attention to your homework. Her eyes slowly examine your back. She sees the wet damp on your back and tilts her head. The wetness has made your shirt slightly translucent. Your bra is so visible, it's almost humorous to her. She can’t help but think it’s like you want her to see it. She starts to smirk and shift against her seat. You’re so exposed, yet you don’t even realize it. You lean forward to straighten your back. Her eyes dilate at the full view of your back. She nibbles her bottom lip as she starts to fantasize about you, specifically your bra. 

She imagines herself running her fingers down your spine to tease you. She traps you between her body and your desk. You would blush so cutely as she leans her face close to yours. It drives her crazy how reactive you are. 

“Stop it,” You glare at her, slightly pushing against her shoulders. She pushes you to sit on your desk. She quickly slides her body between your legs. She smirks and brings her hands to the front of your wet white button-up. 

“Stop?” She hums as she starts to unbutton the first button. By the third button, she can see your bra peeking out. You shyly look away while biting your lips. She slowly finishes off the last button and quickly tugs your shirt aside to expose your front to her. Finally, after seeing your bra through the shirt, she can see it fully. The cold air touches your bare skin. Your cheeks start to burn bright red. Her eyelids become heavy with lust. She brings her hands up to cup your boobs. Her thumb harshly rubs against your nub. Your breathing hicks. You shut your eyes to save yourself from making more noise. Her two thumbs grind against your sensitive nub while groping the soft plush. She repeats the action over and over til your boobs start to become red from her touches. You tilt your head back and let out a soft moan. She smiles at your reaction and rewards you by kissing your neck. You try to clench your thighs together, but her waist stops you. Your lower stomach feels funny. Suddenly you couldn't handle her touch anymore. It’s making your brain turn into mush. You grip onto her wrist causing her to stop. She leans back and widens her eyes in surprise. Your breathing shakes as you glare up at her. Her eyes were black like the void, unreadable. 

“Do you want me to stop?” She asks softly. 

“...Yes,” You breathe out. You didn’t understand why you said yes. The feeling was too much… but it was also so good. She pauses, deep in thought before her eyes quickly shift. 

“Okay,” She simply responds. She removes herself from your body, leaving you breathless on your desk. Your front is still completely exposed. She smiles at the redness on your chest. As you try to collect your thoughts, you hear a camera click. You quickly glare up to see her snapping a picture on her phone. A picture of your touched boobs. She smiles brightly and slides her phone back into her pocket. 

Jaeyi clenches her thighs underneath her desk. She couldn’t believe that just imagining about you caused her to feel turned on. She grips her pencil and smiles. Laughing at herself for being so needy. It’s silly to her. She forces herself to look away from your innocent body and back to her textbooks. This little game you’re playing is just the beginning. 

Seulgi begins to notice how see-through your shirt is. Her eyes widen, and she swiftly takes off her jacket, gently placing it over you for cover. You turn to meet her gaze, and she offers a soft smile before shifting her focus back to her homework. With a smirk, you touch the hem of her jacket, hoping Jaeyi noticed the gesture. She surely did. Though her expression stays neutral, her grip on the pencil tightens, turning her knuckles pale. 

-

Jaeyi’s room is dark and cold as she slams you against her wall. She traps you between her hands. You grunt in pain at the impact. You could tell your shoulders are going to be bruised again. You glare up at her eyes in hatred. Her eyes dilate and you can see the pure jealousy in her eyes. Her tongue brushes the inside of her cheeks. Thoughts swirl inside her head. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. She’s so jealous. So easy.

“You’re laughing?” Her voice low. You playfully move your eyes from her lips to her eyes while you poke her lower stomach. Your fingers slowly drag up to grip her collar. You tilt your head and lean closer to her face. Her eyebrows lift in amusement. 

“You don’t control me,” You whisper. Her eyes darken as she smirks. You shove her back and attempt to walk away. She quickly grabs your wrist and spins you around. You fight against her, but she is surprisingly strong. Her hands naturally wrap around the back of your neck, forcing you to look at her. Your eyes feel like sharp knives while hers look warm. 

“I’m going to prove to you I do,” She hisses. She presses her lips against yours softly. You try to move away, but the hand behind your neck locks you. Her tongue brushes against your closed mouth. Her fingers gently rub your neck. While she kisses you, she pushes you onto her bed. She quickly grabs your hands and pins them above your head. Her knee secretly slots between your legs causing you to moan. With your mouth open, she can deepen the kiss. 

“Kiss me,” She begs. You try to squeeze your legs together, but her legs block you. You jerk your body, trying to get away from the source. You can feel yourself getting turned on. She leans away from the kiss in frustration. Her eyes are lidded and lustful. Your chest moves up and down fast. She dips her mouth down to your neck to lick and suck. You accidentally let out a soft moan. She smiles and bites down on your skin. She pulls away again to look at your eyes. 

“Your moans are sweet,” She hums. Her voice is so soft and seductive. You feel your heart skip a beat. 

“Fuck you,” You snap, feeling your cheeks turn red. She smiles and dips down to your ears. Her breathing tickles you. 

“Stop fighting me,” She mumbles. She sticks out her tongue and licks the outer shell of your ears. You twitch against her body, squeezing your eyes shut. She knew every spot to get you hotter. With a quick movement, she unclasps three buttons from your shirt to reveal your bra. She licks her lips and squeezes her legs together. She’s been turned on since earlier. 

“You teased me all day,” She whispers. She lets go of your wrists and places both hands on your boobs. You lay submissively, not trying to move away and she smiles. She starts pressing her fingers into the softness of your chest. Her eyes glued onto them like she’s addicted. Your nipple hardens and exposes themselves on the surface of the bra. Her eyes flicker up to watch your reaction as she brushes her thumbs against them. Your head tilts back a little and hum a soft moan. Her tongue drags down to the middle of your chest. Her hand continues to squeeze your boobs aggressively. You bring your hands down to her lower neck. You gently gesture her head to look back up. 

“Kiss me,” You blush. She lets out a giggle and moves her body up to capture your lips again. You feverishly move your lips against hers. Her lips feel so soft and plump. You feel like you're floating. She tilts her head, bumping her nose against yours. She keeps the pace to match your needy ones. Her brain turns into a mess when you slightly bite her bottom. She pulls away from the kiss, her chest moving up and down. Her fingers move to unclasp the rest of your buttons. She helps you get out of your green school uniform. She starts taking off hers as well but leaves on her black bra and panties. 

You bring a hand up to cover your red cheeks. You feel embarrassed being the only fully naked one. It makes you feel so vulnerable before her. Just how she wanted. She wants to show how much power she has over you. She moves to the side to grab something out of her bed drawers. Your heart starts to hammer against your chest when you realize what she’s holding. There between her hands is a small silver collar with a small chain. She returns between your thighs and gestures for you to sit up. You obey and she clasps the collar around your neck. She tugs the chains for fun causing you to jerk forward. She pecks your lips. 

“Turn around,” She smiles. Your response is too slow making her tug the chains again. You grunt and it clicks into your head to start moving. You turn your body til you're on all fours, your bottom facing her. You gulp nervously because you can no longer see her. Suddenly you feel a hard slap on your bottom causing you to cry out. Her eyes darken and she smiles sinisterly. 

“You know you’re not supposed to talk to anyone but me right?” She reminds you before slapping again. You bite your lower lip to stop yourself from crying out. 

“I am just protecting you,” She whispers. She tugs the chains harshly making your head tilt back. You choke against the collar, tears starting to form. 

“Say you’re sorry,” She demands. She slaps you again and smiles when she sees your ass turning red. 

“S-sorry!” You cry. She places her cold hands gently against your bruised bottom. She rubs them a little then runs her fingers down to your slit. She rubs your core and chuckles. You’re shamefully wet. It’s like she didn’t have to do much for you to turn into a dirty mess for her. She rubs your juice around your clit. You moan and jerk your body. She continues to circle your clit til she can feel your juices spilling from your core. 

“Please,” You beg, jerking your hips to chase her fingers. She smirks and tilts her head. 

“Yes?” She purrs. 

“...Please put it in,” You blush. 

“Anything for you,” She hums before shoving two fingers into your core. You gasp at the sudden feeling of getting full. You squeeze your eyes shut and grip onto the bed sheets. Your eyebrows furrow in pleasure. She moves her fingers in and out slowly, watching closely at how your hips jerk against her. She feels more turned on and bites her lips. She lets you ride her fingers for a moment. Listening closely to your quiet moans. But you’re moaning too quietly for her. She tugs the chains hard causing you to tilt your head back. It chokes you. She starts moving her hands fast, abusing your walls. You cry out loudly. 

“You react so well,” She mumbles to herself. The sounds of your wet core against her fingers become embarrassingly loud. You moan so sweetly it sounds like a melody in her ears. 

“I’m going to come,” You choke. She moves her fingers faster and tugs the chains harder. You feel so sinister in this position. It makes you roll your eyes back and moan. Her two fingers slide easily against your wet gummy walls. After a few more strong thrusts, you come onto her fingers. You let out a loud high pitch moan. Your silk runs down her knuckles and she chuckles. She lets go of the chain and slows down her movement to let you catch your breath. She pulls out her wet fingers and rubs your clit. Your body shakes and jerks from overstimulation. Just when you thought it was over, you felt her fingers thrust into your core again. 

“I am going to make you come over and over til you turn dumb,” She snickers, slamming her fingers knuckles deep. You cry out and jerk your body away from her, but the chains limit you from moving away. You claw at the collar, but find it useless as your body bounces at each of her thrusts.

“I want to numb your mind til all you think about is me.” 

[thedreamingdevil]

Incest smut with Jeon Somi please! 🙏😭 Write whatever with her, I don't mind! She lacks smut around here 🥲

Don't Get Drunk

Jeon Somi × Male Reader (6,082 words)

Author's note: Sorry for being MIA! The new year has been a bit wild. I got a little too greedy and wanted to write all my ideas at once, but then I ended up not finishing anything. Lesson learned, right? I’m aiming to post one smut piece every two weeks from now on, so wish me luck! Also, my first non-Dreamcatcher smut, woo!

The dim glow of your television paints the walls of your living room in shifting shades of blue as you lose yourself in the hardcore porn playing loudly on screen. Your hand traces the thick veins throbbing beneath the skin of your cock. Each stroke sends a pleasurable jolt through you as you watch the bodies writhe and moan.

Boxers are all you bother with tonight, the cool air raising goosebumps on your bare chest, a stark contrast to the heat building in your groin. You're completely engrossed, riding the edge of release, when a jarring buzz cuts through the porn’s soundtrack. Annoyance flares instantly, a tight knot in your stomach pulling you from the brink of pleasure.

You glance at your phone screen, the bright numbers mocking you: 12:37 AM. Who the hell is ringing your doorbell at this ungodly hour? It’s Saturday night, for fuck’s sake, people are supposed to be out partying, not bothering you in your sanctuary of solitude and self-love.

Before you can fully register your irritation, the doorbell bleats again, a longer, more insistent sound this time, as if the person on the other side is determined to get your attention. With a frustrated click of your tongue, you reluctantly pull your boxers up, the soft fabric momentarily trapping your still-hard dick.

The buzz resonates again, now bordering on aggressive. Fine, you think, you'll answer it and send whoever it is packing. You stomp to the door, adrenaline mixed with residual horniness making your movements jerky. You yank the door open with more force than necessary, ready to unleash a volley of irritated questions, but the words die on your tongue.

Standing on your doorstep are two women. One, a vibrant shock of pink hair, is supporting the other, who is practically draped over her shoulder. And you recognize them instantly. It's your older sister, Somi, completely plastered, and her eternally bubbly, pink-haired friend, Giselle.

Heat floods your face, a flush of embarrassment. You hadn’t expected visitors, especially not now, especially not in this state, shirtless and still smelling faintly of your own musk. You try to subtly tug your boxers higher, hoping they conceal enough. Giselle, however, just beams at you, her smile wide and bright even in the dim hallway light.

“Hey!” she chirps, her voice slightly breathless from the effort of holding up your taller sister. “Sorry to bother you so late, but well, Somi insisted on coming here.” Giselle’s eyes flick towards you, her smile softening into an apologetic curve. “I offered to let her crash at my place, but she was really set on seeing you.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair and pushing down the lingering mortification. Somi is a mess. Her blonde hair, usually meticulously styled, hangs in tangled clumps around her face. Her white blouse is askew, twisted so far to the side that the lacy edge of her bra is clearly visible, and the swell of her tits threatens to spill out of the neckline with every unsteady breath she takes.

She looks up at you, her eyes unfocused and glassy, and a wide, goofy grin spreads across her face. She slurs your name, her voice thick with alcohol. “You’re the best! Thank you for letting me stay!” She doesn’t even wait for you to agree, just assumes she’s welcome, as always.

Giselle’s voice cuts through Somi’s drunken ramblings, bringing you back to the awkward reality of the situation. “Yeah, sorry about this,” she repeats, her pronunciation softening the words. “I really tried to get her to come to my place, but… yeah, you see how that worked out.” She gestures helplessly at Somi, who is now attempting to hug Giselle's arm, giggling nonsensically.

You manage a small smile. "It's fine," resignation coloring your tone. "I know how stubborn she can be when she's like this." It’s an understatement. Somi sober is headstrong; Somi drunk is a force of nature. With a sigh, you reach out and disentangle Somi from Giselle, taking your sister’s weight onto yourself.

Her soft body pressed against yours, her chest bumping against your bare arm. “Thanks for bringing this blondie here,” you say to Giselle, nodding your head in gratitude. “Want to come in for a bit?”

The offer is half-hearted, because the blaring porn audio suddenly registers in your mind, a pulsing rhythm vibrating through the thinly insulated walls.

Luckily, Giselle shakes her head, her pink hair swaying. “Oh, no, it’s really late,” she says, her smile still warm but tinged with tiredness. “I should probably head home. Just make sure she drinks some water, okay?”

You nod, a silent thank you. You can’t quite tell if Giselle heard the muffled throbbing bass from your apartment, but she’s smiling as usual, so maybe she’s either oblivious or just incredibly polite.

“Goodnight!” she calls out, waving as she turns to walk away, her pink hair bobbing in the dim light. “Goodnight, Somi!”

You close the door, the click echoing in the sudden quiet. Then, you turn your attention to the drunken blonde lump in your arms. Somi instantly latches onto you, clinging like a koala, her arms wrapping around your neck, her soft chest pressing firmly against your arm.

You notice then that her short skirt has ridden even higher throughout the evening’s drunken escapades, now barely covering her thighs. You grunt slightly at her unexpected weight, and half-drag, half-carry her towards the living room, her body limp and pliant against yours.

You dump her unceremoniously onto the stool of the kitchen countertop first, her breathing heavy and shallow. You stare down at her semi-conscious form, a jumble of irritation and something else stirring within you.

From as far back as you can remember, Somi has been a constant source of trouble. Always needing rescuing, always making messes, always relying on you to clean up after her.

You’d foolishly hoped that adulthood would bring some semblance of responsibility, some maturity, but tonight proves that she’s only gotten worse. And it’s always you who has to deal with it.

You’re barely an adult yourself, just out of high school, juggling odd jobs to make ends meet. You can barely afford to feed yourself, let alone constantly bail out your trainwreck of a sister.

But as you look at her now, drunk and vulnerable, a different kind of thought surfaces. Maybe, just maybe, Somi’s perpetual negligence, her constant state of disarray, maybe it could be useful to you in some way.

Your gaze roams over her curvy body, lingering on her glossy parted lips, slightly swollen and wet-looking. It drifts lower, to the generous mound of her breasts, straining against the fabric of her blouse, the nipples hardening against the thin material in the cool air.

Finally, your eyes settle on her exposed thighs, bare and pale beneath the hiked-up skirt. Your own cock, still semi-hard from earlier, stirs inside your boxers, tightening with renewed insistence.

The images from the porn movie on the screen flicker in your peripheral vision, blurring with the real, tempting flesh before you; you older sister. A dangerous, thrilling idea begins to take root in your mind.

Somi slurs her words, leaning heavily against the countertop. "Hey... sorry about all the trouble," she says, her voice low and deep. "But you don't mind, right? Cause we're siblings, after all." She lets out a giggle, a wet, bubbly sound that ends in a snort.

She stumbles further into your apartment, clumsily making her way to the couch like she expects you to scoop her up and carry her, like she is some fat, lazy crocodile ready to be provided endless comfort.

Her breasts, unrestrained by a bra, bounce with each unsteady step, quivering under her thin top as she collapses onto the couch, where she sprawls out, limbs akimbo, like she owns the damn place.

You watch her, a low chuckle rumbling in your chest, the predatory feeling already starting to stir. "Of course, sis," you say, your voice smooth, almost too gentle. "I will take care of my sister."

She grins drunkenly, eyes unfocused and glazed over. "Knew I could count on you," she mumbles, already drifting off, her words blurring together.

You watch her for a moment, the image of her sprawled out on your couch igniting a heat in your groin. Quietly, you push your boxers down, the sound amplified in the still room. You reach inside, your fingers closing around the thick shaft already straining against the fabric.

With a swift motion, you pull them down, freeing your rock-hard cock. It springs out, heavy and throbbing, pulsing with anticipation as you approach the couch, your footsteps silent on the carpet.

Lowering yourself, you position yourself directly in front of her face, your cock level with her slightly parted lips. Without a word, you guide the head of your cock to her mouth, the tip nudging against her wet lips.

Then, with a firm push, you slide your cock inside, the warmth and moisture of her mouth enveloping you. You hiss in pleasure, the sensation electric. Somi moans, a confused sound escaping her throat. Instinctively, she tries to pull her face away, a weak resistance against your forceful advance.

But you're ready. Your hand shoots out, gripping the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in her hair, holding her head firmly in place. You push deeper, inch after inch, forcing more of your length into her mouth. Her tongue, surprisingly, wraps around your shaft, massaging you, a primal, instinctive response even in her drunken stupor.

Somi’s voice is muffled, a garbled protest against your intrusive cock. "Mmmph… no…" she manages to moan against your flesh, her hand weakly pushing against your thigh, a pathetic attempt to dislodge you. Her eyes flutter half-open, unfocused and confused.

But you’re lost in the sensation, the friction of her mouth, the growing pleasure tightening your balls. You hiss again, a sharp intake of breath, as you slide in and out, slowly at first, savoring the feel. Her moans of unconscious protest only fuel your excitement.

You lean closer, "Come on, sis," you whisper, the word dripping with a sick intimacy. "I know you’re a good cocksucker." You shift your grip on her nape, tightening it possessively. "Just suck my cock every day, and then you can stay here as long as you want. You don’t have to hear Dad’s nagging at home anymore."

The proposition hangs in the air, a twisted bargain made in the heat of the lustful moment. Somi's head bobs rhythmically, almost unconsciously. Despite her mumbled protests, her mouth tightens around your cock, her body seemingly overriding her conscious mind.

Her back arches slightly off the couch, a subtle shift in posture that reveals a buried desire. Her legs clamp together, rubbing against each other, a telltale sign of her own arousal, even in this forced encounter.

It's as if her body knows, deep down, that she’s a slut at the core, always ready to submit to pleasure. She starts humming unconsciously, a low vibration against your shaft, and more saliva coats your cock, making each thrust slicker, smoother.

You slide in and out of her mouth, her soft lips wrapping tight, almost pleasurably so, around your girth. Her drunken unconsciousness seems to be turning into something else, something more primal and accepting.

Emboldened by her lack of real resistance and her body's involuntary responses, you become rougher, fucking her face deeper, your thrusts becoming faster and more forceful. Somi gags, a choked sound escaping her throat, her eyes watering slightly.

Her free hand, no longer weakly pushing, now clutches at your balls, a tighter grip, a more desperate attempt to push you away, but even then, she's still sucking, her mouth still working against your cock at the same time.

You feel a surge of dominance. "Fuck," you breathe out, your hand tightening on her neck, ignoring her attempts to push you away. "If my sister treats me like this, I don't even need a girlfriend." The thought, crude and selfish, reinforces your actions, justifying your violation in your own twisted mind.

After a few more slow, deliberate thrusts, you feel yourself reaching the edge. Your pace quickens, your groans growing louder, more animalistic. Then, you explode, cumming right inside her mouth, a thick, hot stream of ejaculate erupting from your cock, flooding her mouth.

It just keeps coming, a long, intense orgasm that lasts for nearly a minute. Somi gulps it all down, her throat working reflexively, despite choking and sputtering for air. Finally, you pull out, your cock slick with her saliva and your cum. Somi coughs, a wet, hacking sound, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, her eyes still hazy and unfocused.

"What the fuck was that?" she slurs, her voice raw and thick. You know she’s still not really sober, her awareness only just starting to flicker back.

You answer with a smirk, your voice light, almost joking, hiding the darkness of your actions. "Giselle said make sure I give you water, sis," you say, watching her confused flushed expression. "But I'm not sure it's quite enough."

The flickering images on the television screen cast an erratic light across the living room, but your attention is far from the movie. It’s fixed on Somi, your sister, sprawled haphazardly on the couch. You’d expected a slurry, indignant argument – the usual performance when she’s this deep into her cups.

Instead, she simply rolled, a slow, ungainly tumble, and landed with a soft thud onto the floor. A light snore rattles from her lips. You scoff, a dry, humorless sound. It's pathetic, really. You try to refocus on the screen, but the vibrant colors and action feel hollow, meaningless against the backdrop of this tableau.

The remote clicks in your hand, plunging the room into near darkness, save for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the window. The silence is thick, broken only by Somi’s shallow breaths. Your gaze drifts back to her prone form. A different kind of heat begins to prickle under your skin. You let your eyes trace the curves of her body, the way her shirt rides up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale skin above her skirt.

Suddenly, the images that flood your mind are no longer scenes from the abandoned porn movie. They are scenarios starring Somi, her body pliant and yielding beneath your touch. The forbidden nature of the fantasy ignites a thrill, a dangerous spark that flares in your gut. You feel your cock stir once again, hardening stubbornly.

It’s a slow, insistent rise, fueled by a cocktail of curiosity and a dark, unsettling desire.

A short, mirthless laugh escapes your lips, echoing in the quiet room. "This is fucked up," you murmur to yourself, the words barely a whisper. And it is. Completely, utterly fucked up. Yet, the thought of stopping, of pulling back from the precipice of this madness, feels…unappealing.

A strange inertia holds you captive. No guilt washes over you, no immediate sense of revulsion. Instead, there's a chilling detachment, a sensation of watching yourself from a distance as you stand and, with a grunt, scoop your sister up from the floor. Her limbs are heavy, limp. You carry her back to the couch, the scent of cheap alcohol and something faintly floral clinging to her.

You lay her on her back, her head lolling to the side. Straddling her waist, you plant one knee deliberately between her thighs, feeling the soft give of her panties. Leaning close, your face inches from her slack-jawed, heaving face, you take a shallow breath, inhaling the boozy air she exhales.

Your hand, almost of its own volition, reaches out and closes over her breast, through the thin cotton of her shirt. You squeeze, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh. They’re soft. Softer than you assume. You knead, fondling the yielding mound, and Somi lets out a small, involuntary moan, a pathetic, muffled sound that vibrates against your fingertips.

Encouraged, or perhaps driven by something darker, you grip the hem of her shirt and tug it upwards, over her head. It’s a clumsy, quick motion, revealing her chest. Her breasts are already spilling over the lace edges of her bra, full and ripe. Without hesitation, you reach behind her and unhook the clasp, the plastic clicking open with a sharp sound in the quiet. The bra falls away, and her breasts, pale and heavy, are fully exposed.

A primal urge takes hold. You begin to play with them, your hands roaming over the smooth skin, groping and pulling, your thumbs circling her nipples, teasing them into hard buds. You repeat the circular motion, again and again, a hypnotic rhythm that feeds the growing tension in your groin.

"Fuck it," you breathe, another dry laugh rasping in your throat. "I can’t believe I’m actually doing this." The absurdity of the situation crashes into you for a fleeting moment.

Memories flicker in your mind – images of childhood games in the backyard, of late-night arguments over shared snacks, of sharing secrets whispered under the covers. Somi, your sister, the girl who used to play with your hair for fun and steal your candy. The contrast is jarring, sickening even. But your body, your treacherous body, has a different agenda.

Ignoring the ghost of shared history, you lean down, your mouth hovering over her smooth skin. With an act of transgression, you latch onto her brown nipple. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. You can’t stop now, not even if you wanted to.

You suck on Somi’s nipple, pulling and teasing, the sensation electrifying, forbidden. You taste her skin, a flavor you can’t quite place, something unfamiliar yet intimately connected to her. It’s salty, definitely salty, probably from sweat and the lingering remnants of her drink. But there’s also a sweetness, a subtle sugary note that plays on your tongue. Or maybe you’re just imagining it, your senses heightened by the illicit nature of this act.

It doesn't matter. Lost in the sensation, you keep sucking, alternating between her left and right breast, your hands massaging and kneading the soft flesh, milking them almost, as if trying to extract every last drop of sensation.

Suddenly, Somi’s hands are on your head. At first, they’re tentative, fluttering weakly against your scalp. But then, her fingers clench, digging into your hair, pulling with a surprising strength. She moans again, louder this time, a drawn-out sound that vibrates in your very bones. Her body begins to writhe beneath you, a subtle shift at first, then more pronounced.

Her legs come up, clamping around your waist, her thighs tightening, a silent, involuntary embrace. Her feet kick against the couch cushions, a restless energy fluttering through her limbs. Noticing the reaction, a flicker of something – triumph, perhaps, or a twisted kind of validation – sparks within you.

"Do you like this, Somi?" you murmur against her breast. "Do you want more?" Her eyelids flutter open, revealing unfocused, glazed eyes. She looks at you, a hint of confusion in her gaze, and then, instead of words, a soft whimper escapes her lips. It’s not a protest, not exactly. It’s something else.

Somi’s scent, a heady mix of alcohol and something uniquely her, urges you onward. You lift your head from her breast and trail kisses down her neck, nibbling and sucking at the soft flesh, feeling the pulse jump beneath your lips. Your hands roam lower, across her soft, slightly rounded tummy, towards her waist. You lift her hips slightly, your fingers finding the curve of her ass beneath her skirt.

The fabric is thin, offering little resistance as you squeeze her firm buttocks, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. This time, the whimper is replaced by something sharper, louder. "Wait, fuck…" she curses, her voice thick with sleep and confusion. "What the… what are you doing?" her voice is laced with a growing alarm.

You ignore Somi’s mumbled question, her words slurring slightly, and your hands tighten their grip on her bare breasts. “What…?” she starts to ask again, but you cut her off, your mouth descending to her stomach. You press kisses across her warm skin, the taste of her faintly sweet, before your tongue dips into her navel.

As you swirl your tongue around its depths, Somi’s back arches off the couch with a sharp groan. “Ahh…!” she protests weakly, a confused sound in her voice.

But beneath the protest, you feel the tremor in her body, the involuntary ripple of her muscles as she writhes against the weird, wet slide of your tongue. Her hands come up to your shoulders, gripping them, not pushing you away, but holding on as her body reacts in ways her words don't seem to understand.

Driven by a mounting excitement, you move your kisses lower, the line of her pelvis coming into focus. "Wait," Somi murmurs, but it’s barely audible. You’re already working on the button of her skirt, fingers fumbling with the clasp in your eagerness. With a snap, it gives way, and you roughly yank the fabric down, bunching it around her thighs, then off her legs completely.

You straighten up, her skirt now discarded on the floor, and you place her legs over your shoulders, spreading them wide. Her breath hitches, and a louder grunt escapes her lips as she instinctively tries to clamp her thighs shut. Her hands, still clumsy, reach down, attempting to shield her clothed pussy. “Stop, just… stop,” she mumbles, but her words are weak, unconvincing.

You slap her hands away from between her legs, the sound echoing in the quiet room, leaving her exposed. “Shhh,” you hush her, your voice low. “Don’t be shy, sis. We’re siblings, remember?” You gesture to the darkening stain spreading across the crotch of her panties. “Besides, you’re drunk. It’s okay. You want this, I know you do.”

You become rougher, your fingers hooking into the elastic waistband of her panties. There’s a sharp ripping sound as you tear the fabric apart, the thin material giving way easily. You pluck away the remaining tattered pieces, tossing them aside, leaving her completely bare. “See?” you say, your voice laced with a predatory satisfaction. “Nothing to hide.”

The scent of Somi’s arousal hits you full force, a heady musk that’s intoxicating, like a potent drug. It compels you, driving you to plunge your face directly into her exposed vulva. Her pussy is slick with her own juices, and the aroma is even stronger up close. You lick from the base of her swollen folds all the way up to her hard, throbbing clitoris, savoring every inch of her.

With each slow, deliberate lap of your tongue, you gulp in her flavor, the salty-sweet tang of her arousal filling your mouth. Somi gasps, her eyes fluttering open, wide and unfocused. A moan escapes her lips, soft at first, then growing louder, more desperate. “Please…” she whispers, her voice breaking, repeating the word again, “Please… please…”

Ignoring her plea, you continue to feast on her, your tongue relentlessly working her clit. You suck on the sensitive bud, drawing it deep into your mouth, slurping up every drop of juice she unknowingly produces. Her erratic moans and groans are music to your ears, confirming you’re doing exactly what her drunk body craves.

Holding her hips firmly in place with one hand, you suck her clit harder, then slide two fingers deep inside her wet pussy, curling them upwards against the sensitive walls. Somi’s back arches even higher, her ass lifting entirely off the couch as if she’s trying to grind herself against your mouth and thrusting fingers.

Her moaning intensifies, becoming higher-pitched, more needy, almost frantic. One hand presses against her stomach, flexing and unflexing, while the other hand clenches the edge of the couch, her knuckles white. Her breathing is ragged pants now, each inhale and exhale shuddering through her.

Lost in the intoxicating taste and feel of her, you barely register the shift until it’s undeniable. Somi grunts, her body tensing, and then a choked-off swear word bursts from her lips. A moment later, her orgasm explodes, her nectar suddenly flooding your mouth in a rush of warm, thick liquid.

You greedily drink as much as you can, slurping up the rest as her body shudders violently, then gradually stills. Her breathing remains heavy, ragged, but the tension slowly drains away. Her eyes are still half-lidded, blinking slowly at the ceiling, unfocused and glazed over.

You sit upright between her legs, pulling her closer until her thighs straddle your waist. Your own cock is throbbingly hard and it twitches insistently right in front of her wet, pink entrance. You chuckle, a low, satisfied sound. “Wow, look at you,” you say, gesturing to the slickness between her legs. “You came hard. Guess you had your fun, huh? Now it’s my turn.”

She slowly looks down at you, her expression still hazy, but then, surprisingly, a giggle bubbles up from her throat. She reaches down and her fingers close around her own breasts, giving them a soft, distracted rub, her eyes still drifting.

You watch as, with a languid movement, she cups her breasts, fingers kneading and teasing, her thumbs circling and flicking over her taut nipples, bringing them to hard peaks. A low moan escaped her lips, mixing with your faint breathing. Then, a shift in posture. She hooks her hands beneath her knees, pulling them abruptly upwards, her thighs parting wide, an unapologetic display. Her legs frame the thin triangle at her core, slick and glistening even presented to you like a forbidden offering.

A laugh bubbles up from your chest. "Holy shit, sis," you manage, your voice a little breathless, a mix of shock. "Are you...are you actually into this right now?" Your older sister’s eyes, heavy-lidded with drink, meet yours, a flicker of something mischievous dancing within their depths. She bites down on her lower lip, a playful tug that accentuates its fullness, and a giggle, soft and throaty, escapes.

"Mmm," she hums, her gaze drifting down your body before returning to your eyes. "You've got a nice cock, you know that?" Her words are slurred but clear, each syllable deliberately laced with invitation. "And I think," her voice dropping to a whisper, "you totally need to put it inside my pussy."

The blatant filth dripping from your sister’s usually prim lips ignites something. A hot rush floods your groin. Without a second thought, your hand clamps around your already hardening shaft, the throbbing vein beneath your fingers pulsing with anticipation. You take a step closer, the couch looming, and you smack your engorged cock against the wet folds of her vulva. The sound is wet and resonant, echoing in the quiet room.

Somi’s breath hitches, a gasp turning into a drawn-out moan as the contact sends jolts of pleasure through her. Her body arches off the couch cushion, her hips bucking instinctively against your hand. The slick pre-cum and her own juices splatter outwards, glistening on her thighs and the velvet of the couch.

"Okay then, sis. I'm gonna fuck you now." You straddle her legs, parting them further with your knees, positioning yourself above her exposed core. With agonizing slowness, you guide the swollen head of your cock to the entrance of her slick, warm pussy, feeling the velvety soft lips part to receive you. Then, in one controlled motion, you push forward, sinking into her depths.

Her breath catches again, a sharp intake that quickly turns into a sigh of pure sensation as you slide deeper, the tight walls of her sheath gripping you like a hot glove. You grip her hips, anchoring her as you begin to move, driving forward with a slow thrust. Somi’s back arches even further, her breasts lifting towards the ceiling, straining against their own weight.

Her head throws forward as she tries to steal a glimpse of your cock disappearing deep inside her stretched pussy. You pause at the deepest point, holding yourself there for a heartbeat, savoring the fullness, the intimate pressure, the feeling of being buried inside her. Pulling back just until the tip is still nestled inside her, you slam forward again, burying yourself to the hilt.

A groan escapes her lips, her sweaty body rippling with the force of the impact, her muscles clenching around you in response. You repeat the rhythm, each thrust deeper and harder than the last, fucking your older sister with a growing urgency, your hands gripping her waist, pulling her towards you, meeting each of your deep, hard thrusts with an equally frantic upward lift of her hips.

Somi’s breasts bounce wildly, swaying up and down unevenly, the fleshy mounds jiggling with each powerful stroke, the underside of your balls slapping against the soft crack of her ass with a rhythmic thud. The sounds of your bodies colliding fill the room, punctuated by her escalating moans and your own ragged breaths.

"Oh, fuck," Somi mumbles drunkenly, words thick with pleasure, her hands now clutching at your shoulders, digging into your muscle. "It's so deep," she gasps, "fuck me harder, please."

The raw desperation in her voice is intoxicating. Driven by her pleas and the mounting intensity within you, you snap your hips harder, the pace quickening, the friction building. You lean down, burying your face in the curve of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin, hot and flushed and intoxicating, and whisper against her ear, "If I go any harder, sis, I might just cum inside you and get you pregnant."

Of course, Somi was too far gone to grasp the implications of your words. Her mind was lost in the swirling vortex of pleasure. She just kept mumbling incoherently, her only coherent plea being, "fuck me harder… it's so good… I’m… almost… cumming…" Her toes curled inwards, digging into the couch cushion, and her hands clutched at your back, her nails lightly raking against your skin. Her tits were squished against your chest, their soft weight a delicious friction as your nose inhaled the intoxicating scent from the crook of her neck.

Your breathing grew shallow and rapid, your body straining with the effort to prolong this forbidden bliss. But Somi wasn't holding back any longer. Her movements stilled, her body suddenly going rigid beneath you. A silent wave of tension washed over her, replaced in moments by a shuddering release. You didn't need her to say a word; you felt it instantly, a hot, pulsing sensation as her orgasm flooded down around your pistoning cock, her inner muscles clenching and spasming in rhythmic waves.

The realization that you were fucking your own older sister raw, the echo of her voice begging for more, the wet, slick feel of her orgasm enveloping your cock – it all coalesced into an overwhelming wave of sensation. You reached your own precipice, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Separating your face from her neck, you dropped down, latching onto one of her swollen nipples with your mouth, biting down hard just as you slammed your cock deep, deep inside her canal.

Spurt after spurt of scalding semen erupted inside Somi's pussy, filling her with your forbidden seed. She cried out, a muffled sound as she gripped your hair, pressing your face harder into her boob, her fingers tangling in your locks. You huffed against the soft mound of her breast, every muscle in your body clenched tight, riding the peak of your orgasm. Slowly, languidly, you rolled your hips, prolonging the blissful, taboo-laden experience as your cum continued to pulse inside her.

The aftermath of your release hangs heavy in the air, thick with the scent of sex. You pull back from your older sister, the squelch of your dick leaving her wet depths echoing in the sudden silence that descends now that your ragged breaths are slowing. You shift back onto the plush cushions of your worn-out couch, the withdrawal making your cock feel strangely cold against the air.

A thick glob of your cum oozes from her folds, a pearly trail tracing a path downwards, a rivulet heading towards the shadowed cleft of her untouched asshole. Somi is completely still, lost in the deep abyss of drunken slumber. Her head lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the couch fabric, her breathing shallow and even. Naked and vulnerable, she's laid out, a tableau of post-coital abandon.

A question claws at the edge of your consciousness – will she even remember any of this tomorrow? The thought flits through your mind, quickly followed by a surge of guilt and a thrill of illicit excitement. You’re breathing hard, chest heaving, your gaze fixed on her unconscious form. The soft rise and fall of her chest is mesmerizing, the curve of her body smooth and inviting in the dim light filtering through the blinds.

Then, the weight of reality crashes down on you, solid and undeniable. This happened. You actually went there. You fucked your sister. And not just a quick fumble, but a full-blown, unprotected creampie situation in her womb. There's no erasing it, no taking it back.

A low chuckle wheezes up from your throat, tinged with disbelief. "Fucking crazy," you mutter under your breath. You lean closer to Somi, a whisper inches from her ear. "You liked that, didn't you? You enjoyed that as much as I did, right?" Silence is her only reply, her peaceful slumber undisturbed by your whispered question.

Even in the aftermath, even with the dampness cooling on your skin, your cock refuses to fully submit. It throbs with a semi-erection, a persistent reminder of the pleasure you just experienced, and a blatant demand for more. Her nakedness, the lingering scent of her arousal, it’s all too potent. You can't deny the pull, the urge to dive back in.

Carefully, you slide off the couch, your bare feet padding softly on the worn carpet. You reach for Somi, gently looping her arm around your neck, her limp weighing on you. Then, you bend down, slipping your other arm under her knees, scooping her up in a bridal carry. She’s heavier than you expected, loose and pliant in your arms. You carry her through the narrow hallway to the spare room, the one you usually leave empty for nothing in particular it seems, until now. You reach the bed, a simple mattress on a frame, and gently toss her onto it.

A soft groan escapes her lips as she lands, rolling onto her side, facing away from you. You climb onto the bed beside her, the mattress dipping under your weight. With a hand on her hip, you turn her back towards you, then gently lift her up onto her knees, her ass rising invitingly in the air. Her upper body, still heavy with sleep, falls forward onto the mattress, her breasts spilling out, nipples brushing against the sheet.

You kneel behind her, your own cock stirring with renewed vigor, the sight of her presented ass sending a jolt of lust through you. You press yourself against her, rubbing your semi-hard cock against her wet entrance, feeling it thicken and lengthen with each passing second.

“You shouldn’t have gotten so drunk and come here, Somi,” you murmur into her hair, the words more for yourself than her. “You know that, right?” You nip at the nape of her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat. “And you know you liked getting fucked by your brother. Don’t even try to deny it.” Your voice is filled with the need to possess her. “One round isn’t going to cut it, sis. Not after this. I’m going to fuck you until my cock is sore and limp. Until you wake up and realize what we did.”

Consequences be damned. You’ll deal with the fallout, the inevitable chaos, when it comes. Right now, all that matters is this moment, this chance to feast on your older sister, to brand her with your mark until she’s fully sober and forced to confront the reality of what’s happening.

With that thought burning in your mind, you grind yourself against her hips, and thrust forward, penetrating her slick pussy from behind, driving yourself deep, right to the hilt. Somi lets out a muffled gasp, a sound that could be pleasure, could be protest, lost in the moment as you begin to move.

[faebled-stories]

The Touch of Time

Kinkvember Day 15: Breeding

Aespa Winter (Kim Minjeong) x Male reader

11.6k words

AN: We are halfway done! This is the longest fic so far, I really enjoyed the concept. Thank you all for the continuous support💖

In the distant future, humanity had shed many of the biological “weaknesses” that once defined it. From the moment of birth, every individual was fitted with a slim, almost invisible patch on their abdomen. This patch, designed to suppress primal desires and impulses, was hailed as a revolutionary step forward in the control of human behavior. Gone were the distractions of physical intimacy, the emotional turbulence tied to desire, and the chaotic unpredictability of natural reproduction.

DNA was now quietly harvested from a simple strand of hair, and reproduction took place in sterile laboratories, pristine and efficient. Physical touch, especially in the context of intimacy, was considered primitive, even taboo—an unnecessary relic of a less evolved past.

Minjeong, a young historian with an insatiable curiosity for the “old ways,” had always felt slightly out of place in this world. Her field of study focused on the intricacies of ancient human customs, the rituals and behaviors that had once bound people together. She spent her days in archives and libraries, poring over fragments of lives long gone.

Sometimes, in moments of quiet reflection, she wondered what it might have been like to live in a time when physical connection hadn’t been stifled by a patch. Yet, even with her questions, she had never truly dared to challenge the norms she had grown up with—until the day she discovered the book.

It was hidden, almost intentionally, in a shadowed corner of the university's vast, neglected library, coated in dust as if the world had tried to forget it. The cover was nondescript, worn smooth by time, with no title to hint at its contents. But as Minjeong opened it, a chill crept down her spine, and her heart began to pound.

The pages held something she had only read about in the most clinical terms: they described, in startling detail, how humans had once procreated—naturally, through touch, mutual pleasure, and deep, emotional connection. These words, so evocative and raw, held an intimacy she had never encountered, not even in fleeting dreams. The patch she wore had always silenced any stray curiosity about such things, but now, as she read each vivid passage, something unfamiliar and undeniable began to awaken inside her.

As she pored over the descriptions, a strange, tingling warmth spread through her body. She could hardly believe what she was reading—the language spoke of touch, skin meeting skin, the rush of unrestrained joy, sensations too elusive to truly grasp, yet undeniably alluring. She felt a pull, as though the book was leading her somewhere deeper within herself, a place she hadn’t known existed.

She kept reading, page after page, her cheeks flushing, her breath catching at times as she envisioned the “lost art” of human connection. What would it feel like, she wondered, to touch another person like that? To be touched, to share in a pleasure as mutual and instinctive as the book described.

Unable to contain her fascination, Minjeong decided to share her discovery with her friends. She met Karina, Giselle, and Ningning at their usual café, a sleek establishment with an atmosphere as controlled and pristine as the society it served. They were her closest friends, the only ones who tolerated her historical musings, though they saw them as mere eccentricities.

As they sipped on perfectly brewed coffee, Minjeong took a deep breath, gathering the courage to explain.

“So,” Minjeong began, her voice edged with excitement and trepidation, “I found this book in the library. It’s about... how humans used to procreate, you know, before the patch system.”

Giselle’s eyebrows shot up, and she let out a dismissive laugh. “Oh, here we go again. Minjeong, your obsession with ancient history is cute and all, but nobody wants to hear about people being all... gross and sweaty with each other.”

Minjeong’s face fell, but she pushed on, determined. “It’s not gross. It’s fascinating. The book describes the way they used to connect physically—how touch meant something. They had this thing called ‘orgasms,’ where their bodies would—”

“Orgasms?” Karina interrupted, giggling incredulously. “You mean, like, they’d enjoy rubbing up against each other? Like animals? That’s seriously disgusting.”

Ningning made a face, shaking her head. “I mean, why would anyone want that? We’ve evolved past that kind of stuff for a reason. I can’t even imagine wanting someone to touch me like that. Ugh.”

Minjeong’s cheeks flushed, but she pressed on, hoping to convey what she had felt while reading. “But don’t you see? It wasn’t just about the physical. The book talks about an emotional bond, a connection we can’t even comprehend anymore. Doesn’t that make you curious?”

Giselle leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Curious? More like horrified. People used to waste time on that nonsense when we have perfectly good tech now. Why would anyone choose to go back to those primitive, messy days?”

Ningning chimed in, her tone a mix of disbelief and pity. “And for what, unnie? So we could feel... what exactly? A little thrill? That’s why we have simulations and sensory upgrades. Why would you even want something so... physical?”

“It’s not about just feeling something,” Minjeong said softly, though her voice shook. “It’s about connection. The book talks about something that went beyond just pleasure or physicality. It describes a bond, an intimacy that’s emotional, even spiritual. Don’t you ever wonder what that would be like?”

Her friends exchanged glances, almost as if they were silently agreeing that Minjeong had gone a step too far.

Karina crossed her arms, her expression guarded. “Honestly, Minjeong, you’re starting to sound a little obsessed. You’ve read too many old books, and now you’re idealizing a time when people barely understood themselves, let alone each other. It’s sad, really, how desperate they were.”

“Yeah,” Ningning agreed, shaking her head slowly. “You’re talking about a past that’s been left behind for a reason. I mean, if it was so great, why didn’t people keep doing it? They moved on, unnie. We all have.”

The conversation shifted soon after, with the others eagerly diving into discussions of their daily lives, work, and the latest technological advancements. Minjeong felt a heavy ache in her chest as she realized her friends couldn’t understand, and worse, they had no desire to try.

She thought of the book’s vivid descriptions—the gentle brush of fingers on skin, the shared gasps of pleasure, the promise of something deeper than she had ever known. It was as if she had stumbled upon a secret hidden within herself, and now, in the presence of her friends, that secret felt more precious but also more isolating.

Karina glanced at her, almost scolding. “Listen, Minjeong, you should probably stop reading stuff like that before it gets too far into your head. You’ll end up wanting things that just... don’t exist anymore.”

As they laughed and changed the subject, Minjeong stayed quiet, her mind lingering on the words in the book, replaying them in her thoughts like a forbidden melody. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the book was more than just a historical relic. It was a portal to something lost yet profoundly human—something she had been denied all her life.

Over the next few days, Minjeong’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about the book. The descriptions of intimacy, of deep pleasure, and undeniable connection replayed in her head, each line lingering like a tantalizing whisper. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had glimpsed something profound, something long buried beneath the surface of her controlled world. The idea of experiencing real touch, raw and unfiltered, was impossible to ignore.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, she decided to track down the author. The book seemed modern enough that she guessed its writer might still be alive. Hours of searching through online records and old archives finally led her to a name, yours.

She imagined you as an older scholar, perhaps with a lifetime of wisdom etched into your eyes—a figure hardened by years of research and deep understanding. But when she met you, her expectations unraveled. You were young, intense, and enigmatic, with a kind of fire in your gaze that spoke of passions and convictions hidden beneath the surface. In your eyes, she saw something she hadn’t expected: the same fascination with the past, the same relentless hunger to understand what had been lost.

Sitting across from each other in a quiet café, Minjeong couldn’t help but notice how differently you seemed to see the world. As you talked, your expressions shifted with each thought, a flash of yearning in your eyes that mirrored her own. Your voice carried a weight, each word carefully chosen as if guarding a truth no one else would understand.

“It’s strange,” she murmured, stirring her tea slowly, gathering her thoughts. “I’ve spent so long studying history, but I never realized how disconnected I feel from… everything. And then I read your book, and it felt like something inside me woke up, something that had been quiet my entire life.”

You leaned forward, a softness in your gaze that made her feel seen. “I know exactly what you mean,” you replied, your voice low and warm. “That’s why I wrote it. I wanted to preserve something real, something that made us human. The world today—it’s too sanitized, too empty. The patch has robbed us of something vital, something that our ancestors once cherished.”

She paused, uncertain whether to share her feelings about the reactions she’d faced from her friends. But your understanding eyes, the way you listened as if her words were precious, made her feel safe.

“My friends… they don’t understand,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “They think it’s disgusting to even consider physical touch or intimacy. When I tried to tell them about the book, they laughed. They don’t want to imagine it, let alone experience it. I feel… so alone.”

Your expression softened as you listened, and you hesitated just a moment before reaching out, your hand hovering near hers. The space between your fingers felt charged, almost electric. “You’re not alone, Minjeong,” you said, voice steady yet full of emotion. “I’ve thought about it constantly, too. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to take off the patch… to feel something real. But… I’ve never met anyone who would even consider it.”

Her heart pounded at your words, the thought flickering to life in her mind. She had been wondering the same thing for days—the possibility of removing the patch and experiencing everything the book described. Just imagining it made her pulse quicken, filling her with equal parts excitement and apprehension.

“Do you think…” Minjeong hesitated, searching your face. “Do you think we could try it? Take off the patch?”

You looked at her in surprise, something deeper stirring in your eyes—a longing that mirrored her own. “You mean… actually take it off?” you murmured. “You know it’s illegal, right?”

She nodded, feeling her breath catch, a flutter of thrill and nerves swelling in her chest. “Yes. I know. But… I want to know what it’s like. With you.” She paused, swallowing. “We just met but... I trust you.”

The air around you seemed to shift, growing thicker with the unspoken possibility lingering between you. Slowly, you reached out, your hand brushing gently against her arm, and even this slight contact sent a jolt through her, a strange warmth spreading from the place where your skin met hers.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice soft, eyes locked on hers. “Once we do this, Minjeong, we can’t go back.”

She met your gaze, her heart pounding, her face flushed with a mixture of excitement and something else—an ache she couldn’t explain. “I’m sure.”

The decision was made. Together, you prepared to take a step into the unknown, an act that felt both terrifying and thrilling. Moving in tandem towards stillness of your apartment, everything seemed sharper, as though the air itself were holding its breath with you. Minjeong lay down on your bed, her breathing shallow, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

With a steadying breath, she began to strip, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She lifted her shirt over her head, revealing smooth, bare skin and the soft fabric of her bra hugging her form. Her fingers hesitated briefly before slipping down to unbutton her pants, sliding them off her legs until she stood there, clad only in her bra and panties. The small, smooth patch on her abdomen glinted faintly in the soft light—a mark of society’s control that had rested there for as long as she could remember.

To Minjeong, that patch represented a lifetime of safety, control, and order. It was all she had ever known, a constant presence that quieted any restless stirrings she might have felt. And yet, now, with you beside her, that little patch seemed more like a barrier—a thin, deceptive shield that stood between her and a life of real, unbridled sensation. For the first time, she felt ready to shed it.

You knelt beside her, heart hammering as your fingers hovered just above her skin. A thousand questions flickered in your mind, but one glance at Minjeong’s face told you she felt the same determination you did. This was an uncharted intimacy, raw and vulnerable, and as you gently laid your hand on her side, you felt the heat of her skin, warm and alive beneath your touch.

“Are you ready?” you asked softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, as though the room could be shattered by any louder sound.

Minjeong’s eyes met yours, filled with a trust so complete it took your breath away. She nodded, her voice a delicate thread. “I trust you.”

With a deep breath, you carefully examined the patch, your fingers brushing over its edges, searching for the small, hidden stitches. You had studied its design and knew the mechanics, but this was different. Here was Minjeong, lying before you, vulnerable, willing to let you unlock something deeply forbidden.

Your fingers found the first stitch, and with painstaking care, you began to unfasten it. Each small movement felt weighted with meaning, every shift of your hand a step further into the unknown. As you worked, a tiny prick of resistance tugged back each time you pulled at a stitch, as though the patch itself knew what you were doing, as though it was reluctant to release its hold.

A soft, sharp gasp escaped Minjeong’s lips halfway through, her hand instinctively reaching for you. She clutched your arm tightly, her grip firm yet trembling as she squeezed. Her breaths came quicker, each inhale shallow, as though her body itself were already bracing for the world that lay beyond the patch’s control.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, voice gentle and soothing. You brushed your thumb softly against her arm, steadying her. “Hang in there, okay?”

Your words seemed to ground her, and slowly, she nodded, her face easing as she held onto you. The tension in her shoulders melted just enough for you to continue, and she focused on your voice, your touch, letting the pain drift away.

Finally, the last stitch slipped free. The patch gave way with a faint click, and as you lifted it, Minjeong’s entire body tensed, then softened in a single, breathless moment. Her eyes widened, a gasp catching in her throat as a strange warmth began to spread beneath her skin.

It felt like an electric current, a gentle buzz awakening nerves that had long been asleep. Her pulse quickened, beating fiercely against her ribs, echoing in her ears as her senses seemed to open, stretching in ways she hadn’t known were possible.

The air felt sharper, the softness of the bed more pronounced against her back, the sound of your breathing louder, more intimate. A flush rose to her cheeks, and she blinked up at you, her gaze dazed, overwhelmed by the torrent of sensations flooding her.

Your own breath hitched as you watched her, feeling the weight of her unguarded trust, the openness in her gaze. Her vulnerability mirrored your own, and it gave you the courage to act. With a steeling breath, you reached for your patch, the small, oppressive mark that had governed your life for so long.

Your fingers trembled as you slipped them beneath its edges, the adhesive resisting your touch. Heart pounding, you braced yourself for the pain. Gritting your teeth, you tugged hard. A sharp, searing ache ripped through your side, fiery and almost unbearable, as if the patch was trying to hold on, refusing to let go of the control it had over you.

But then it came free, leaving your skin raw and tingling, and you gasped, clutching the small device in your hand.

As the pain faded, a new sensation filled the space it left—a pulse of energy that rushed through your body, illuminating every nerve. The world sharpened around you, clearer, more vivid, as though a veil had been lifted. The faint hum of distant noises, the warmth of the room, the softness of the bed—everything felt magnified, brimming with a life you had never felt before.

For a moment, the two of you simply sat there, eyes wide, barely able to process the surge of sensations overwhelming you both. Each heartbeat, each breath, seemed to resonate with newfound depth, rippling through you in waves.

You looked at her, marveling at the transformation in her expression, her eyes wide and glistening with wonder. She looked back, her face a reflection of the awe you felt, a silent affirmation that you were both feeling something real, something profound.

“Do you feel it?” you asked softly, voice hushed with reverence, your gaze locked with hers.

Minjeong nodded, her lips parting as her voice came in a soft, breathless whisper. “I feel… everything.”

Without the patch, every touch, every brush of skin felt magnified, alive with a rawness that left Minjeong dizzy. Her senses felt heightened, each nerve sparking as if awakened for the first time. The air seemed thicker, charged with an energy she could almost taste, and her skin buzzed with an unfamiliar intensity. When you reached out, gently placing your hand on her thigh, her entire body jolted as a wave of warmth spread from where your hand rested, pulsing outward. Her breath hitched, her heart thudding as she instinctively leaned into your touch, craving more of this strange, electric feeling she couldn’t name.

Your hand moved slowly, almost reverently, sliding higher as your fingers traced delicate patterns on her skin. Each tiny movement sent sparks through her body, lighting up places within her that had been silent all her life. Minjeong’s body quivered, her skin hyperaware of every inch you touched, as if your fingers were leaving trails of fire in their wake. Her hips shifted involuntarily, her body responding to you with an eagerness she barely understood but couldn’t resist.

When your fingers brushed over the delicate place between her legs, a flood of sensation hit her, and her control snapped, unraveling as her entire being reacted to that single touch. The pressure, the intensity—it was overwhelming. She felt her body arch, a soft gasp escaping her lips as a surge of heat radiated through her, more powerful than anything she could have imagined.

“Oh—oh my God,” Minjeong gasped, her voice trembling as her hips bucked against your hand, her body acting on instincts that felt both new and achingly familiar.

You froze for a moment, watching her with wide eyes as her body trembled under your touch. Minjeong’s breath came in short, desperate bursts, her chest rising and falling as an uncontrollable wave of pleasure surged within her. She reached out, clutching at your arm as if you were her anchor, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of awe, confusion, and something else—a deep, unspoken yearning.

“What’s happening to me?” Her voice was barely a whisper, breathless, as her body shook, caught in a sensation that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You looked down at her, your gaze filled with understanding and warmth, as if you knew exactly what she was feeling. Brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, you leaned closer, your voice low and soothing. “I... I think you just had an orgasm.”

The word echoed in her mind, stirring memories of the book’s descriptions—the culmination of human intimacy, the apex of physical connection that had always seemed like a distant concept.

She remembered the clinical language, the detached explanations, and realized just how shallow those words had been. They hadn’t prepared her for this—something so consuming, so raw it made her feel as though she was discovering a part of herself that had been hidden all her life.

Her fingers tightened around your arm, anchoring herself as she felt the aftershocks ripple through her, each one leaving her a little more breathless. “That was... an orgasm?” she whispered, her voice tinged with wonder and disbelief.

You nodded, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you watched her, your expression filled with tenderness and awe. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Just like in the book... but maybe better than either of us ever imagined.”

Minjeong lay back, her mind reeling, as her body continued to hum with the afterglow of pleasure. She felt alive, awake in a way she’d never known before, as though she’d unlocked something deeply hidden within her. She had just experienced an orgasm—something her body had been denied all her life, a sensation so visceral it left her trembling.

“I... I didn’t think it would feel like that,” She admitted, her voice soft and still a bit unsteady. She looked up at you, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide. “It felt... so much more than anything I read. It was like... like I was completely free, like I’d let go of something I’d been holding onto forever.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing her cheek in a gentle, grounding touch. Your gaze was steady, filled with warmth, as if you truly understood what she was feeling. “It’s different when you experience it,” you said softly, your voice soothing. “The patch kept it all locked away for so long... it makes sense it would feel this intense.”

As the waves of her orgasm began to subside, a new feeling stirred within Minjeong—an instinctual curiosity, an urge she hadn’t anticipated. She felt an almost primal desire to reciprocate, to touch you the way you had touched her. If her body had responded so powerfully, so completely, to your touch, what would happen if she reached out to you?

The thought of seeing you experience that same kind of release, of watching your body tremble and surrender to pleasure, sent a fresh surge of excitement coursing through her, a thrill that made her heartbeat quicken.

Without hesitation, she shifted closer, her fingers reaching out tentatively to trace a line down your stomach. The feeling of your skin under her fingertips felt both foreign and exhilarating. She could feel your muscles tense beneath her touch, your breath hitching as her hand drifted lower, guided by a mixture of curiosity and a lingering echo of the sensations she’d just experienced.

Her movements were deliberate yet hesitant, testing the boundaries of her newfound courage. Slowly, Minjeong’s fingers found the waistband of your pants. With a slight glance up, her gaze met yours, searching for any sign of hesitation. When she found none, she hooked her fingers into the fabric, tugging them down along with your boxers in a single motion, exposing you completely. Her breath hitched, her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t stop.

Her hand moved with a new confidence, wrapping around you gently, the warmth of her touch sending a jolt through your body. You exhaled sharply, the sensation overwhelming, and she couldn’t help but notice the way your body responded instantly to her. A soft groan escaped your lips, your hips shifting slightly toward her touch as if your body was seeking more.

She began to move her hand slowly, cautiously, her strokes experimental but deliberate, guided by what she’d read and a deep, unspoken desire to bring you the same kind of pleasure she’d just felt. The weight and heat beneath her palm were new, almost intoxicating, as she adjusted to the rhythm that seemed to draw those delicious, throaty sounds from you.

“Minjeong…” Your voice was low, breathless, your eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and desire. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she whispered, her determination evident in the way her strokes became more confident. “I want you to feel what I felt.”

Her hand moved steadily, her touch becoming bolder as your body reacted to her. She felt the tension ripple through your muscles, your breathing growing heavier with every passing moment. Each groan, each subtle arch of your hips, sent a shiver down her spine, fueling her desire to keep going.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as her pace quickened, her strokes more purposeful now. The room filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and soft moans, the intensity of the moment overwhelming both of you. She watched your face, captivated, as the tension in your body built toward an inevitable release, your hips moving in time with her hand in a desperate, instinctual rhythm.

Minjeong’s curiosity got the better of her as she adjusted her position, leaning closer to get a better look. Her eyes lingered on every detail, mesmerized by how your body responded to her touch. She wanted to see everything, to witness the effect she had on you up close. Her hand continued its rhythm, her strokes steady and deliberate, her lips slightly parted in concentration as her gaze stayed fixed on you.

Then, with a deep, guttural moan, your body tensed, your muscles tightening as your climax surged through you. Minjeong’s eyes widened as she felt the first sudden, hot burst against her hand. She gasped in surprise, her heart pounding as she watched, unable to look away. The release was powerful, shooting hard and fast, catching her completely off guard.

A warm streak hit her cheek and trailed down to her jaw, while more landed on her neck and pooled in her hands. Her breath hitched as she stared, her lips parting in astonishment at the sight. The moment felt surreal, intimate, and raw, leaving her stunned and unsure of what to say or do.

Her face flushed a deep red as she glanced up at you, her hand still resting lightly against you. “Oh my God,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Did I… did we waste it? I-It’s supposed to… you know… go inside.” Her gaze flicked nervously between you and the evidence pooling in her hands, uncertainty clouding her features.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you came down from the high, your body still trembling slightly from the intensity. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, the glazed expression softening as you met her worried gaze. A gentle smile tugged at your lips, and you let out a low, reassuring chuckle.

“No, Minjeong,” you said softly, shaking your head. “You didn’t mess up. This… this is normal. You did everything right.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, her lips curving into a shy, tentative smile as she glanced down at the evidence of her effect on you. Still holding it in her hands, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Despite her initial embarrassment, a flicker of pride warmed her chest—she’d brought you to this moment, and it filled her with an intoxicating mix of exhilaration and wonder.

Minjeong’s gaze lingered on her hands, her fingers glistening with the warm remnants of your release. A curious expression crossed her face as she processed everything, her mind racing. She had read about this before—about the way a man’s body reacted at the height of pleasure—but witnessing it firsthand, feeling the heat of it against her skin, was entirely different. It was raw, intimate, and strangely captivating.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she continued to look, her curiosity getting the better of her. Almost without thinking, she tilted her hand, letting a small trail of it slide down her finger. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at you as if seeking silent permission. Then, emboldened by the heat still lingering between you, she brought her finger to her lips.

The taste was unexpected—salty, slightly bitter—but it sent a shudder through her, her body reacting instinctively. Her cheeks flushed a deeper red as she licked her lips, the unfamiliar sensation heightening the arousal already simmering within her. The intimacy of the act, the knowledge that it came from you, made her heartbeat quicken.

Minjeong glanced up at you, her eyes dark with unspoken emotion, the lingering taste on her lips seeming to ignite something deeper within her. “It’s… different,” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with a quiet, almost shy desire. Yet there was no mistaking the spark in her gaze as she leaned closer, her curiosity and arousal intertwining in a way that left her yearning for more.

“But… what now?” she asked, her voice small and uncertain. “Does it… does it take a long time to… I don’t know… come back?”

A gentle smile spread across your face as you reached for the edge of the blanket, wiping yourself clean, your gaze warm and understanding. “No, not as long as you’d think,” you replied softly. “Just give me a minute… trust me, with the way I’m feeling right now? It won’t take long.”

Minjeong’s cheeks flushed as she felt the tension still pulsing between them, an intensity that hadn’t faded but had only grown stronger. Though her body had already released once, it was still alive with a hum of anticipation, craving more of the closeness that had only begun to reveal itself. Her skin felt sensitive, every inch of her alive and awake, and the desire that lingered between you both seemed almost endless.

As you pulled her close, your breath warm against her ear, your voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper. “The desire… it’s unbearable, isn’t it? We’ve held it back for so long… now that it’s free, it’s hard to stop.”

She nodded, her own breath catching as she leaned into you, feeling the heat radiating from your body. “I didn’t think it would be like this,” she whispered, her voice soft and filled with wonder. “It’s like… I can’t get enough.”

Your hands drifted down her back, fingers tracing slow, delicate paths that sent tingles down her spine, igniting her senses further. With deliberate care, you reached for the clasp of her bra, unhooking it and sliding the straps down her arms, exposing her to your gaze. She shivered under your touch, the anticipation in her eyes mirrored by the rising heat between you. Gently, you guided her panties down her hips, leaving her completely bare before you.

You leaned in, pressing soft, lingering kisses to her neck, shoulders, and collarbone, each one drawing a soft gasp from her lips. Your mouth trailed lower, worshipping her with every kiss as you explored her body, your lips brushing against her chest, stomach, and hips. The warmth of your touch and the intimacy of your kisses set her skin ablaze, her body trembling beneath you as your affection deepened the connection between you.

She could feel you stirring beneath her, your body responding just as eagerly, recovering quickly and pressing against her with a palpable urgency. Her heart raced, her pulse quickening as she realized just how deeply this hunger ran—not fading, but growing, expanding with each heartbeat, filling every part of her with a yearning she hadn’t known was possible.

Her voice barely a whisper, she looked up at you, her cheeks flushed with desire. “I… I want to do it again.”

A flicker of something intense crossed your gaze, desire deepening in your eyes as her words sank in. You leaned in close, your fingers trailing down her stomach with a deliberate slowness, and her body reacted to your touch as if it had been waiting for it all along, each caress building a tension that left her breathless. “Me too,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “We can take our time… explore every part of this together.”

Minjeong felt her pulse quicken as your hand drifted lower, each touch more confident, and yet filled with care. There was no rush this time—each movement, each gentle caress felt purposeful, as though you were savoring every moment. Her breath hitched as your fingers found her center, brushing over her with a tenderness that set her body alight. She could feel her hips lifting involuntarily, craving more of your touch, her body arching toward you, completely attuned to the rhythm you were setting.

But you held back, your movements measured, each stroke a deliberate invitation to surrender. Minjeong’s hands gripped the sheets, her fingers twisting in them as she fought to keep some sense of control, but every motion of your hand sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her, slowly eroding any restraint she had left. Her mind was hazy, her thoughts blurred as she gave in to the sensations, letting herself feel every spark, every touch.

Your voice, soft and steady, cut through the haze, anchoring her. “I’ll follow what the book says,” you murmured, your tone reassuring yet filled with quiet excitement. “But you can tell me if anything feels too intense… we can go as slow as you want.”

She met your gaze, her eyes filled with trust and anticipation, nodding as her voice caught in her throat. She watched as you reached for the book—the one you’d written, your meticulous research woven into its pages—flipping to a section that you both had studied countless times. Back then, the words were abstract, a roadmap for a journey neither of you had truly embarked on. Now, they felt vivid, alive, as you stood on the edge of turning theory into reality.

Your voice was steady but tinged with wonder as you read aloud, revisiting the descriptions of intimacy that had once seemed so clinical. “This part,” you murmured, “it’s about connection—real, physical connection. It says to feel, not just to touch. To be present in every moment.”

You set the book down beside you, your hands trembling slightly as they moved to her skin. Following your own written guidance, you traced a line down her arm, feeling the softness of her flesh, your touch lingering. “Even after all my research,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, “I never understood how different this would feel. How real.”

Minjeong shivered at your words, her lips parting as your fingers brushed her thigh, gliding lower to gently spread her legs. Her breath hitched, her body already responding to the unspoken promise in your touch. “It says to let the connection build naturally,” you continued, your tone soft yet deliberate. “No rushing, no hesitation… just us.”

Your hand slid between her folds, your fingers moving slowly, reverently, as if committing every detail to memory. Her hips bucked instinctively against your touch, and the sound of her soft moan filled the room. The book’s instructions felt distant now, a framework that was giving way to something far more instinctual, far more profound.

As you continued to explore, positioning yourself over her, you kept your gaze on her, your eyes holding a mixture of tenderness and longing. “According to this,” you murmured, your voice soft and steady, “I’m supposed to… enter you slowly. We can take it at your pace… but once we both reach our climax… I’m meant to stay inside, to hold that connection.”

Her heart pounded, but she nodded eagerly, the words barely leaving her lips as she whispered, “I want that… I want to feel it all.”

With a careful, gentle movement, you positioned your shaft and slowly entered her. The both of you stilled, caught in the shared intensity of the sensation. A rush of warmth spread between you, each of you feeling the other in a way that was beyond description.

Minjeong’s hands found your back, her fingers pressing into your skin as she closed her eyes, losing herself in the overwhelming sensations that pulsed through her. It felt as though her entire being had awakened, each nerve attuned to the rhythm you created together.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost missed your voice breaking the quiet.

“So, apparently,” you began, glancing down at the book with a look of intrigued curiosity, “if two people share an emotional connection, every touch, every sensation can deepen the experience. It says to explore, to learn each other’s bodies, to let it build naturally.”

Her breath hitched as your words settled in the space between you, her body already trembling beneath yours as you began to move again. The slow, deliberate rhythm of your thrusts made every nerve in her body feel alive, each motion sending waves of pleasure radiating through her. She met your gaze, her vulnerability mirrored in the unspoken trust you shared.

You leaned closer, trailing soft, deliberate kisses along her neck, letting your lips linger on her skin. She shivered at the warmth of your mouth, your movements in sync with the rhythm of your hips. Her breath hitched again as you moved lower, your lips brushing against the sensitive curve of her collarbone before descending to her chest. Her body trembled as you kissed her nipples, your tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before your lips wrapped around it.

The sensation was overwhelming, an electric jolt that combined with the fullness of you inside her, making her arch instinctively beneath you. When you began to suck gently, a soft, breathy moan escaped her lips, her hands clutching at the sheets as the intensity of the moment consumed her. Each thrust seemed to amplify the pleasure, the combined sensations creating a crescendo of raw emotion and physical connection.

Her mind raced, her heart pounding as waves of pleasure built steadily within her, each one more powerful than the last. Every pull of your lips, every flick of your tongue, every deliberate movement of your body within hers heightened the connection between you, making her feel more vulnerable and alive than she ever thought possible.

She arched into you, her body moving instinctively in time with yours, her breathing growing shallow and uneven. “This,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion, “it’s so much more than I ever thought it could be.” Her words were punctuated by gasps and soft cries, her body surrendering completely to the rhythm you shared.

Each touch, each calculated movement between you was designed to bring you both closer to that edge, but neither of you rushed.

Minjeong felt lost, spinning in the sensations as you guided her towards a second climax, your every touch bringing her closer to that peak once more.

“I’m close again,” Minjeong whispered, her voice trembling, her body tensing in anticipation. “I can feel it…”

“Me too,” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. Your hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer as you moved with her, your breath hot against her skin. “Let’s do it together.”

Your bodies moved in perfect rhythm, your pace quickening as the tension built between you, an energy so intense that Minjeong felt it vibrating through her very core. Her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps as her hands gripped your shoulders, feeling the second wave building within her, ready to crest.

The pressure was unbearable, the heat flooding through her body as you moved together, faster, harder, each movement pushing her closer to the edge.

“Now,” you whispered, your voice tight with urgency, as if holding back any longer was impossible. “Now, Minjeong.”

Minjeong’s body surrendered completely, her second orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. The sensation was all-consuming, rippling through her in waves that seemed to touch every nerve, every hidden corner of her being.

Her back arched sharply, her head tipping back as her mouth parted in a breathless, almost desperate gasp. The pleasure was unlike anything she had ever known—raw, overwhelming, and deeply intimate.

Her legs wrapped tightly around you, instinctively pulling you closer, as if anchoring herself to you in the midst of her climax. The intensity of the moment only heightened as her inner walls clenched rhythmically around you, pulsing in time with her racing heartbeat.

Each contraction was powerful, drawing you deeper, her body gripping you with an unrelenting tightness that seemed to plead for more, to keep you there, locked in this moment of shared ecstasy.

She felt the warmth of your release flooding her, a sensation that sent an unexpected jolt through her body. It was an unfamiliar but exhilarating feeling, the heat spreading within her and amplifying her pleasure to a level she hadn’t thought possible. It was raw, primal, and so deeply intimate that it made her tremble in your arms, her body shuddering as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

For you, the feeling was equally overwhelming. Her inner walls milked you with a desperate, almost unrelenting rhythm, each squeeze sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. It felt as though her body was drawing out every drop, holding you tightly in a way that made it impossible to hold back. A deep, guttural moan tore from your lips as you gave in completely, the force of your release leaving you trembling.

Each pulse of your release was matched by her contractions, the two of you locked in a perfect, instinctual rhythm. Her warmth surrounded you, heightening the intensity of your climax, every squeeze of her body dragging out the pleasure, making it feel endless. The connection between you was palpable, an unspoken understanding communicated in every motion, every sound, every shared breath.

Minjeong’s cries blended with your own, the room filled with the raw, unfiltered sounds of pleasure. As your climax subsided, the echoes of her soft moans and trembling gasps remained, lingering in the air. You stayed buried within her, her legs still wrapped around you, her arms pulling you close as if she couldn’t bear to let go.

Both of you were left breathless, trembling, and utterly consumed by the intensity of what you had just shared—a moment that transcended the physical, leaving an indelible mark on both of your hearts.

For a brief, perfect moment, it was as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you, entwined and breathless, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of what you had just experienced. The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths, rising and falling together as you clung to each other, feeling the lingering aftershocks of pleasure resonate between you.

Minjeong’s chest rose and fell in sync with yours as she held onto you, her heartbeat slowing as she grounded herself in the warmth and weight of your embrace. The sensation of being so close, so in tune, left her feeling utterly content, yet completely vulnerable.

Each time she felt you shift or tighten your hold, she felt the memory of each pulse, each lingering sensation, flooding her with a gentle warmth, a comfort she hadn’t realized she’d been craving.

Her fingers traced gentle patterns on your back as she lay there, absorbing the reality of what you had shared. She felt every lingering pulse within her, each subtle echo of your release, and the closeness left her feeling both exhilarated and deeply moved. She looked up at you, her eyes soft, a small smile on her lips, still too overwhelmed to find words but hoping you could feel the depth of what this moment meant to her.

You brushed a strand of hair from her face, your gaze filled with a tenderness that matched her own, and pulled her close, holding her as you both soaked in the quiet intimacy. The connection between you was more than either of you had expected—something that reached beyond the physical, beyond what words could express. And for now, the world outside could wait.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke, your voice soft and filled with a wonder that mirrored her own. “That was… more than I ever imagined.”

Minjeong nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak. Her body buzzed with lingering aftershocks of pleasure, her mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of what she’d just experienced. She hadn’t thought it was possible to feel so much, to connect so deeply with another person.

“The book didn’t even come close,” she whispered, her voice trembling as emotions welled up within her. “I didn’t know… it could be like this.”

A gentle smile played on your lips as you brushed a strand of hair from her face, looking at her with a gaze filled with understanding and affection. “Neither did I,” you replied softly. “I can’t believe we went our whole lives without that.”

You lay together in the quiet of the room, still tangled in each other’s embrace, your bodies warm and relaxed as you both reflected on what had just happened. The weight of your decision to remove the patches, the overwhelming intensity of your shared experiences, and the depth of the connection that had formed left both of you in awe. Minjeong realized then, with a clarity that made her heart ache, that she couldn’t go back to the way things were. Not after this.

A warmth stirred within her, different from before—not just curiosity or experimentation, but something deeper, something that felt like an unstoppable need. Her body craved you, not just to explore, but as if she were drawn to you in a way she couldn’t fully explain. The thought of being close to you again, feeling your touch, sent shivers through her entire body.

You noticed her subtle movement, the way she shifted against you, and gently ran your fingers through her hair. “Are you okay?” you asked softly, your voice filled with care and understanding.

Minjeong looked up at you, her heart pounding as her eyes met yours. The connection felt stronger now, more intense, like a current running between you that couldn’t be ignored. “I… I need you again,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Your eyes darkened, a spark of need flashing as you took in her words. Your hand slid down her back, pulling her closer, pressing her body against yours. “Already?” you asked with a faint smile, though your voice betrayed the hunger that mirrored her own.

“I can’t help it,” Minjeong admitted, her cheeks flushing as her body pressed against you, feeling every inch of you against her. “I can’t stop thinking about it… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your expression softened as you held her close, sensing the depth of her need and responding with your own. The air thickened between you as you both gave in once more, realizing that the bond you had unlocked wasn’t something that could be silenced or ignored

She felt you stir beside her, your body responding immediately to the heat in her words. The hunger within her sharpened, an intense, primal need that was more than just physical. It was something deeper, something raw and instinctual that seemed to awaken with every heartbeat, urging her closer to you. Her body ached to feel you again, to pull you closer in every way, and the intensity of her need made her breath catch.

Your hands roamed over her body, your touch igniting a fire beneath her skin. The anticipation sent a thrill through her, her pulse racing as she took you in, the desire radiating off both of you like a palpable heat.

“I want to feel you again,” Minjeong whispered, her voice trembling under the weight of her need. “I want you to… to keep going… to keep bre—”

She hesitated, her cheeks flushing, searching for the right words as her eyes met yours. But you seemed to understand without her needing to say it. Your hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her skin as your gaze locked with hers, filled with both passion and tenderness.

“To keep breeding you?” you murmured, your voice thick with both lust and affection.

Her body reacted instantly, a hot wave of sensation spreading through her at your words. The idea of it—of you filling her again and again, the intimacy of it, the unbreakable connection it represented—was overwhelming. She felt her breath hitch as she nodded, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering touch.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “I want you to breed me… again and again.”

A soft groan escaped your lips at her words, and you adjusted her position, your hands sliding beneath her thighs as you pushed her legs up, resting them on your shoulders. The shift folded her body slightly under your weight, her knees pressed close to her chest as you leaned into her, your body flush against hers. The angle sent a shiver through her as the anticipation built, her heart racing as she felt your hands gripping her hips firmly.

Slowly, you pressed into her, her body stretching to accommodate you, the familiar pressure igniting every nerve in her body. Minjeong gasped, her head falling back against the pillow as the sensation overwhelmed her. The new angle made everything feel more intense—every inch of you seemed to reach deeper, filling her completely in a way that made her toes curl.

Her hands gripped your arms as her hips instinctively rolled forward, meeting your movements as you began to thrust into her, slow and deliberate at first. Each motion sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, her back arching as you leaned further into her, your weight pressing her firmly into the bed.

The pleasure was electrifying, each thrust bringing her closer to the edge, her body trembling beneath you. Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as your pace quickened. Her body folded under your weight as you leaned forward, driving her deeper into the bed.

Your hands slid up her sides, trembling with urgency, before cupping her face gently, your thumbs brushing over her flushed cheeks. The contrast of your tender touch against the intensity of your movements made her gasp, her soft, breathy moans growing louder as you pressed her further into the mattress.

“Minjeong,” you groaned, your voice thick with need, your gaze locking onto hers. Her flushed cheeks and parted lips only spurred you on, the sight of her beneath you, completely vulnerable and lost in the moment, driving you closer to the brink.

“I’m yours,” she whispered, her voice trembling as her fingers clung to your shoulders, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “I’m completely yours.”

Her words ignited something primal in you, and your movements grew faster, deeper, the new angle amplifying the sensation for both of you. Her body tightened around you, her inner walls gripping you with each thrust, milking you for everything you had. The pressure building within her was almost unbearable, her core aching for release as her muscles clenched and fluttered around you.

Overcome by the intimacy of the moment, you leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Her soft, eager response heightened everything, her lips moving against yours with a hunger that mirrored the rhythm of your bodies. The warmth of her mouth, the way she gasped into the kiss, made every nerve in your body feel electrified.

As your lips pressed harder against hers, you felt her trembling beneath you, her inner walls clenching tightly around your member in rhythm with every thrust. Each squeeze sent shockwaves through your body, the intensity of her responses drawing you deeper into the shared ecstasy. Her whimpers were muffled by your kiss, and her fingers tangled in your hair, holding you close as if afraid to let go.

The kiss deepened, slow but intense, a perfect counterpoint to the raw, primal connection of your movements. Her cries became softer, breathier, blending with your groans as the sensations built to an almost unbearable level.

The intimacy of the kiss, combined with the feeling of her pulsing around you, brought you both closer to the brink, your bodies and hearts completely in sync as you moved together toward the edge.

“Minjeong… I’m close…” you murmured, your voice strained, your body trembling as you fought to hold back for just a moment longer, wanting to bring her over the edge with you.

“Don’t stop… please don’t stop…” she gasped, her voice breaking as her hands pressed against your chest, her body trembling beneath yours.

As you tried to hold on, your body trembling with the effort of resisting your release, your position unintentionally shifted. Your hips angled slightly as you pressed into her, and suddenly, your length grazed something deep within her that made her entire body jolt violently.

A sharp, high-pitched cry tore from her lips, her eyes flying open in shock and overwhelming pleasure as her nails dug into your arms. Her expression was a mixture of surprise and desperation, her voice trembling as she gasped, “Oh my God—right there!” Her thighs trembled against your shoulders, her whole body arching into you. “Do that again—please, keep doing that!”

Her reaction sent a rush of adrenaline through you, and despite the accidental nature of the movement, you adjusted to repeat it, angling yourself to hit that spot again. Her cries grew louder, her body tightening around you as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her, the intensity of the sensation completely melted her.

Minjeong's cries grew louder, her body arching beneath you as her legs trembled on your shoulders. The intensity of her pleasure was palpable, each thrust drawing a mix of desperate gasps and cries from her as her walls tightened around you even more, gripping you with a rhythm that was almost too much to bear.

Suddenly, with a powerful thrust, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her with a force so intense it felt as though the entire world had disappeared. The weight of your body pressing her into the mattress, the relentless rhythm of your deep thrusts, the angle perfectly abusing her most sensitive spot—all of it combined into a crescendo of pleasure that overwhelmed her completely.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Minjeong’s mind went utterly blank. The sensations overtook everything else—waves of ecstasy rippling through her as her body convulsed uncontrollably beneath you. Her walls clenched and pulsed around you, milking you desperately, her muscles tightening in a rhythm that seemed to beg for more, even as the overwhelming intensity left her trembling. The warmth of your release filling her, mixing with the previous flood, heightened everything, the feeling of fullness amplifying every pulse, every flutter of her core.

Her body shook violently, her hands clutching at you for grounding as tears welled up in her eyes. A broken sob escaped her lips, her voice trembling as she gasped for air, completely overcome. Her hair was a wild mess, clinging to her damp, flushed face, and her cheeks were streaked with tears she didn’t even realize she was shedding.

Each thrust, each contraction, sent her spiraling further into a blissful haze until her body could only quiver under you, her mind and body utterly consumed by the raw, primal connection.

Finally, her cries softened into breathless whimpers as her climax began to wane, leaving her trembling and spent. You slowed your movements, carefully easing her legs down from your shoulders, and leaned into her, wrapping your arms around her trembling body. She clung to you instinctively, her face buried against your chest as she shuddered uncontrollably, her body still quivering from the aftershocks of her release.

“It’s okay,” you murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as you held her close. Your hands stroked her back in soothing motions, trying to ground her as she came down from the overwhelming high. Her breaths were uneven, and you could feel her trembling against you, her body still wracked with small, involuntary shakes.

Minjeong’s fingers gripped your shoulders tightly as if anchoring herself, her voice trembling as she whispered, “That was… that was so much… I’ve never… I didn’t know I could feel like that.”

You hugged her closer, cradling her against your chest as she melted into your embrace, her trembling gradually easing under your touch. The room was quiet except for the sound of your shared breaths, the intensity of the moment lingering between you. As you held her, her quivers became softer, her body finding solace in your warmth, the bond between you deepened by the raw, unfiltered intimacy of the moment.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, tangled in each other’s arms, your bodies still humming from the intensity of what you had just experienced. Her heart raced in time with yours, her mind spinning as she held onto you, feeling as though nothing else existed but the two of you.

As the aftershocks of their shared pleasure began to fade, Minjeong lifted her head, her eyes meeting yours. The connection between you was undeniable now—deeper and more intense than anything she had ever imagined. It wasn’t just about the physical closeness anymore; it was the way you looked at each other, the way your bodies moved in perfect rhythm, the way her heart seemed to beat in time with yours. She could feel that you were a part of her now, in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and fiercely protective.

You smiled softly, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “That… was even better than the first time.”

Minjeong nodded, her body still buzzing in the blissful afterglow. “I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way,” she murmured, a dreamy smile playing on her lips.

“It’s like we’re rediscovering it all over again,” you replied, your voice filled with wonder. “Every time.”

Her heart swelled, a warmth blooming within her that went beyond the physical. She looked up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the sincerity of her emotions bringing a slight tremor to her voice. “I think I’m falling for you,” she whispered, her words laced with a vulnerability she hadn’t shown before.

Your gaze softened, and your hand cupped her face, pulling her closer. “I’ve been falling for you this whole time,” you whispered back, your lips brushing over hers in a tender, lingering kiss that sent a shiver down her spine.

You lay together, tangled in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. The quiet moments that followed were thick with understanding, an unspoken connection that now simmered between you both.

Each touch, each kiss felt like a rediscovery of something sacred, something you had both been yearning for without knowing. Minjeong could feel the bond between you growing deeper, a realization that filled her with a comforting sense of security, yet also stirred something unsettling within her.

After a long silence, with her head still resting against your chest and her fingers tracing soft patterns on your skin, reality began to creep back into her thoughts. She thought about the future—the knowledge you had uncovered together, and what you would do next. What you had discovered was too profound, too life-changing to keep hidden. She lifted her head, meeting your gaze with a determined look.

“We need to tell people,” she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of the revelation. “We can’t keep this to ourselves. Others deserve to feel what we’ve felt.”

You listened, though a shadow crossed your face, your hand stilling as you gently traced her back. “I know… but who do we tell? And how? Most people… they won’t understand. They’ll think we’re out of our minds.”

Sitting up slightly, Her mind drifted to the three other girls she held closest to her heart “Maybe… we start with people close to us. People we trust. Maybe I could tell my friends.”

Your expression remained serious as you considered the idea. “Your friends? The ones who thought the book was just some weird obsession?”

A hint of uncertainty entered her voice, but she pushed on. “Yes. I mean, they laughed it off, but they’re like family to me. They’ve been my closest friends for years. I love them… and maybe, if I explain it to them, they’ll understand. And who knows? Maybe they’ll want to experience it too.”

At first, the idea of sharing this discovery with her friends was thrilling to Minjeong. Karina, Giselle, and Ningning were her closest friends; they had been by her side through everything. If they could experience the depth of what she’d felt with you, maybe it could change their lives, too. But the more she thought about it, the more her excitement twisted into something else.

The thought of them with you—of any of them touching you, experiencing your closeness, seeing the look in your eyes that had been meant for her—left a sour, unsettled feeling in her chest. She imagined your hands on them, imagined you laughing with them, and it made her stomach clench with a sharp pang of jealousy she hadn’t anticipated.

Her heart pounded, and she felt a fierce possessiveness rising within her. This was different; what you shared was hers. The mere image of anyone else sharing in the same closeness made her skin prickle. She shifted, tightening her hold on you almost instinctively, her fingers curling against your chest as she tried to suppress the surge of emotions.

“Actually… maybe not,” she muttered, almost to herself, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she gazed up at you.

You raised an eyebrow, catching the sudden shift in her tone. “What happened to wanting to tell everyone? Didn’t you say you wanted to help people feel what we’ve felt?”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I do,” she stammered, glancing away. “I just… I don’t think they’d get it—not yet. And maybe not them.”

You chuckled softly, amused by her possessiveness, your eyes glinting with teasing curiosity. “Oh, so now you don’t want to tell them?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips. “Weren’t they your ‘closest friends’ a second ago?”

Her face grew warmer, and she huffed, shifting uncomfortably as she avoided your gaze. “It’s just… they didn’t understand the book at all,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “And besides, I… I don’t want—”

You tilted your head, still smiling as your fingers traced gentle patterns along her back. “You don’t want what?” you asked, your tone soft but teasing. “You don’t want them to know about me?”

A small, frustrated sound escaped her as she buried her face against your chest, mumbling, “I don’t want them to… try anything.”

You chuckled, finding her protectiveness endearing. “So you don’t want anyone else getting too close?” you teased gently, your fingers brushing through her hair.

“It’s not funny,” she grumbled, her cheeks hot as she sulked against you. She sighed, glancing up at you, her voice laced with worry. “What if they’re curious? What if they want to know what it’s like with you?”

The laughter rumbled softly in your chest, and you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close. “Minjeong, you’re overthinking this,” you murmured, stroking her hair. “They don’t need to experience it with me specifically.”

But her mind couldn’t let go. She imagined them asking you questions, seeking the same closeness that had been so deeply personal to her. Her pout deepened as she looked up, her voice quiet but insistent. “But… what if they wanted to try it? What if they wanted you?”

Seeing the worry in her eyes, your expression softened. You brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting your hand linger on her cheek as you held her gaze. “They’re not you,” you said simply, your voice steady and sincere. “What we have… it’s special. No one else can have that.”

Minjeong felt her heart flutter at your words, but a part of her still sulked, her brow furrowing as she clung to you a little tighter. “I just don’t want to share you,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not with anyone.”

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and your voice was warm as you spoke. “You don’t have to. I only want you, Minjeong. You’re the only one I want.”

She let out a soft sigh, nestling closer against you, her tension easing slightly. “But what if they do get curious?” she murmured, almost to herself, her voice filled with a hint of lingering protectiveness. “I know how they are… they always want to try things they don’t understand.”

You chuckled again, finding her jealousy both adorable and sincere. “Minjeong, I promise no one’s going to get between us. If they want to know what we’ve found, we’ll explain it together. But you’re the only one I want to share it with like this.”

She looked up at you, a pout still lingering on her lips, though her eyes softened. “You’re sure?” she asked, her tone almost childlike, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Because I don’t want you to change your mind later… I don’t think I could handle it.”

You gently cupped her face, looking at her with steady, genuine warmth. “I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice sincere as you met her gaze. “Minjeong, I don’t want anyone else. What we have is ours. No one else can even come close.”

A small smile began to spread across her face, and she felt her possessiveness slowly fading, replaced by a warmth that made her cheeks flush. “Okay,” she murmured, though a hint of playfulness glinted in her eyes. “But just so you know, if they do try anything, I’m not sharing.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Good to know. But trust me, they’re not going to get the chance.” You pulled her closer, your arms wrapping securely around her, reassuring her with the warmth of your touch. “Besides, I think it’s kind of cute how protective you are.”

She grumbled, rolling her eyes, though she couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her lips. “Well, you better get used to it,” she muttered, snuggling deeper into your embrace. “Because I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t plan on letting anyone else get anywhere near you.”

A laugh escaped you, and you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “That’s perfectly fine with me,” you murmured. “I’d be happy with just you by my side.”

Finally feeling at ease, Minjeong let herself melt against you, feeling a bit silly for her jealousy but incredibly reassured by your words. The tension and uncertainty that had simmered beneath her feelings now softened, melting away as she realized the depth of what you had both discovered. It was something so much bigger than either of you alone—something that the world had long forgotten.

The patch was supposed to protect humanity from its own vulnerabilities, to mute the wild unpredictability of desire, of connection. It had promised a life of control and purpose, of efficiency and calm. But in shutting out the power of feeling, it had left behind a vast emptiness, a numbness that had become so normalized that no one had even realized what they were missing.

But now, she understood the beauty of that vulnerability, the fire of human connection that couldn’t be controlled or contained. Every touch, every shared breath, every heartbeat reminded her that being human wasn’t something to manage or tame. It was messy and consuming, unpredictable and deeply, deeply real. It was finding peace in another’s arms, feeling the thrill of closeness, and, yes, even feeling possessive and protective of the person she wanted most.

Minjeong looked up at you, her gaze warm but serious. “I don’t think I could ever go back to the way things were. Not now that I know what it’s like… to feel everything so deeply. To be connected to you like this.” Her voice was soft but steady, filled with a quiet determination. “It’s like I’m finally… alive.”

You held her closer, your expression filled with a tenderness that needed no words. “I feel the same,” you whispered. “I don’t want to go back either. And maybe we don’t have to. Maybe we can be the ones who bring back what everyone’s lost. Show people what it really means to be human.”

In the quiet warmth of the room, as you both held each other, Minjeong felt the weight of that purpose settle into her heart. What had begun as a curiosity, a glimpse into forgotten history, had turned into something so profound, something that connected her to the core of her own humanity. It wasn’t just love she felt—it was a fierce commitment to the truth you had uncovered together.

“We’ll start slowly,” she murmured, her voice calm but filled with conviction. “One step at a time. Maybe people will be afraid, maybe they won’t understand… but we’ll show them. We’ll show them what we’ve found.”

You nodded, and your hand found hers, fingers intertwining as a silent promise. “Together,” you said, your voice steady.

As the night deepened, the two of you lay there, wrapped in the knowledge that the connection you shared was precious, rare, and undeniably real. It was the beginning of something new, something powerful. And as Minjeong drifted off in your arms, she knew that whatever lay ahead, you would face it side by side, carrying the flame of a rediscovered humanity—one that pulsed with raw, unfiltered feeling and a love that no patch could ever silence.

You had both rediscovered what it meant to be human, and together, you would awaken a world that had forgotten.

[woollypoison]

Yuna miniseries: Bedroom warfare

Itzy Yuna x m reader a/n: go stream gwbg Word count: 10.5k

You’re looking forward to this. A rare night off, some drinks, catching up with your best friend, and finally meeting the girl who has him acting like she hung the very stars in the sky. He talks about her constantly, non-stop bragging. How she’s different, how she keeps him on his toes. You can’t remember the last time he was this into someone, so yeah, needless to say you were curious.

The roads are getting bad, snow already piling along the curbs. You should’ve come earlier, but fuck it, you made it.

You step up to the door, stomp the snow off of your boots and knock twice before letting yourself in. The second you touch the handle, time stops. The cold hits you, but it's a different kind of cold from the snow. A voice in your head screams that opening this door will certainly lead to doom.

The feeling is so sharp, so visceral, you freeze.

A warning.

You ignore it. This is ridiculous. Staying outside any longer might actually make you freeze. You push the door open.

And then you see her. The voice was right.

Yuna. 

She’s curled up on the couch, leaning casually into the cushions like she’s not a demon wearing human skin. Like she hasn’t detonated a nuclear bomb of all the worst emotions just by existing in this room. And the worst part, you think, is that there isn’t a trace of any of that on her face. Just a perfectly practiced smile as she glances your way, eyes alight with smug confidence and feigned warmness. The bitch. She was prepared.

“Hey, man!” Your friend’s voice cuts through your brain’s searching for an escape route as he claps a hand on your shoulder. “Glad you made it. Roads are getting bad out there.”

“Yeah,” you manage.

Your friend smiles that big, dumb smile of his, completely oblivious to the way Yuna’s gaze hooks into yours like a knife. “Come in, man. Get comfortable.”

You step forward on autopilot, hanging your coat by the door like you’ve done hundreds of times. Yuna watches without a single crack in her facade, her body language relaxed, deliberate. As if she’s making sure you understand—play along. Do not fuck this up.

“This is Yuna,” your friend continues, gesturing proudly. “Babe, this is my best friend. The one I told you about.”

The one she already knew. The one whose hands were once all over her, whose voice whispered filth into her ear, whose name she moaned as he took each hole of hers as his, whose life she set on fire and walked away from without looking back.

Yuna smiles, tilting her head just slightly. “Nice to finally meet you.”

The fucking nerve on her.

Emotions swell inside you, a festering wound ripping open, but your face doesn’t betray it. You match her smile with an empty one of your own. “Yeah. Likewise.”

You sit across from them, forcing yourself to ignore the way she’s curled into his side, the way his hand rests on her thigh like a claim. It’s all too much.

Your friend, completely unaware of the hurricane tearing through the room sweeping up only you and Yuna, leans back with a content sigh. “She’s incredible, man. Like, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like her.”

Yuna meets your gaze, and you’d have died if looks could kill, then smiles at your friend. “You exaggerate too much.”

“Not even,” he laughs. “I told him you were different. I mean, look at you.”

You do. She stares back at you. Right at you. Like she’s daring you to say something.

You force a smirk. “Yeah. I’m happy for you.”

The night stretches on, a slow suffocation wrapped in forced pleasantries and underlying malice.

Yuna brushes past you as she walks to the kitchen, her nails grazing your wrist just enough to feel like a scratch. It’s intentional, a silent reminder that she can still reach beneath your skin whenever she wants.

You let your expression remain neutral, but when she returns and settles beside your friend, you decide to push back. You swirl your drink in hand, voice casual but with deadly precision. “You ever think about loyalty?”

Your friend laughs, oblivious. “Deep question, man. What, you been betrayed by someone?”

Yuna knows. Her grip on her boyfriend’s hand tightens, her jaw flexing for the briefest second before she smooths it over with a small, cutesy sound. “Is that something you’re struggling with?”

A sharp retort, coated in molten sugar.

You grin, eyes transfixed on hers, where her soul would be if she had one. “Nah. Just thinking about how rare it is these days.”

She tilts her head unimpressed, expression unshaken by your taunt. “Guess it depends on who you’re with.”

Your friend laughs again, oblivious to the daggers flying inches from his head. “Damn, this is getting deep for a casual night.” Bless his stupid heart.

Yuna goes on to laugh a little too hard with one of your friend’s jokes, her fingers running over his arm as she throws a glance your way. It’s like she wants you to know. See? I can be happy without you.

While your friend isn’t looking and off to get another drink, you lean in slightly, whispering just loud enough that only her ears catch it. “So how long will it be before you cheat on him, too?”

Yuna’s smile doesn’t waver, but her eyes flicker with a quiet rage. “Didn’t know you were still this bitter. Having a hard time getting over me?”

Your friend is none the wiser, sipping his drink and rambling on about something you aren’t even listening to. He doesn’t see the silent war happening right as he returns, doesn’t feel the tension stretching thin enough to snap.

And Yuna? She sits there, composed, graceful, effortlessly charming. Like she hasn’t spent the entire night digging her nails into old wounds just to watch them bleed.

You can’t wait for this night to end.

Your friend’s phone buzzes against the coffee table, cutting through the forced, suffocating conversation. A moment of relief. He barely looks at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

A pause. His expression shifts. It’s subtle at first, then tightening with concern.That big, dumb smile evaporates.

“What? When?”

Yuna straightens beside him, her fingers curling slightly on her lap. You watch the way her entire body goes rigid, instinctively responding to the shift in energy. The room tilts, like the balance of power is about to change. A ceasefire is called, as your common concern grows ever more concerned.

Your friend exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. No, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hangs up, already moving towards the door.

“I have to go,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “It’s my mom. She’s in the hospital.”

Yuna blinks. “Oh my god?”

The snowstorm outside has only gotten worse, and the roads are probably a nightmare. You’re sure he knows that, but there’s no hesitation in his movements. You can’t blame him, you’d be much the same. He’s already halfway to the door, shoving on his coat.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, then glances between you and Yuna. “You two will be fine, right?”

Like hell you will.

No. No, you won’t be fine. Not alone. Not with her. Anything but that.

You clear your throat. There’s not enough time for an excuse, and you’d feel even worse using one in this situation. You try any resistance anyways. “I don’t think this is a good idea, dude.”

He frowns, halfway into pulling on his other sleeve. “What? Are you serious?”

“The roads are bad. You shouldn’t be out in this. Or I could come with you?”

“It’s my mom,” he says, like that explains everything. And in a way, it does.

You swallow any goodness you have left in yourself, attempting one final protest. “Still—”

“Please, stay here, just in case something happens. Yuna doesn’t know what to do if the power goes out. It’d make me feel more at ease.”

If only he knew half of it. But this is not the time to be selfish. He’s your best friend.

Your jaw tightens. Yuna doesn’t react, doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a damn thing. She doesn’t need to. Everything she wanted to say, you already did. She wants you nowhere near her. But your friend was right. This was the better solution.

Your friend claps a hand on your shoulder. “Just stay, alright? Keep each other company.”

You nod in reluctant agreement. “Yeah. Sure.”

And just like that, he’s gone. The door slams behind him.

A rotten silence taints the air.

The performance shatters instantly.

The false smiles, the polite distance—it’s all destroyed the second his car pulls out of the driveway.

You exhale sharply, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck as you peered over to Yuna. “Fucking hell.”

Yuna scoffs, her arms crossed. “Yeah, I’m not happy about this either.”

She walks past you, and you hate that you recognize every little sway, tilt and strut her body makes. The controlled tension in her shoulders, the barely concealed hostility humming in her eyes. She’s coiled tight, inches away from snapping.

You don’t give her the satisfaction of speaking first. If anything you’d prefer to just sit in silence, minding your own business until your buddy is back.

“Guess it’s just us now.” She laughs. Fuck. So far for silence. It’s sharp, bitter. Venomous. “Like old times.”

Your hands clench at your sides. “Not fucking funny.”

Yuna turns to face you fully, her lips curling into something devious. “Never said it was.”

A charged tension crackles between you, thick with unresolved filth. You can’t look at her without the memories flooding back. The way she felt beneath you as you pounded her down to where she belonged. The way she used to moan your name, confessing her filthy desires and so-called love. The way she made you feel like the only person worthy of her in the whole world—before she tore it all apart.

And yet, despite it all, despite your veins burning with hatred, you can feel it. You know she’s thinking the same thing. Seeing the same memories.

The past isn’t dead between you. Far from it. It’s alive, thrashing, screaming, demanding to be acknowledged.

Yuna tilts her head, breaking your introspection. She’s studying you like a bug nailed to the wall. “You look like you want to say something.”

You exhale sharply. She’s wrong. You don’t want to say something. You want to stay silent. You have to say something. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then fucking say it.”

Your hands tighten into fists, your venomous glands activating. “You cheated on me.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look guilty. Just crosses her arms and raises a brow. “Yeah. I did.”

The sheer lack of remorse in her voice sends you over the edge. You expect her to at least soften, to at least pretend like it wasn’t that bad, saving her own skin. But she doesn’t. She stands in it, owns it, like she’s daring you to throw it in her face. Daring you to do something.

She knows just how to press your buttons. It never works out in your favor, but you bite back.

“And yet I’m still the villain?”

Yuna steps forward, voice razor-sharp, knowing exactly what you’d say. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot. Because you think what I did was worse.”

She doesn’t agree, and the snap in her scowl all but confirms it. “It was.”

You step closer too, closing the distance between you until there’s barely a foot between your bodies. She won’t get the best of you. “You spread your legs for another guy, Yuna.”

“And you turned me into some sex trophy to fucking show off,” she spits.

She’s right, both your words serving as the flame used to light a fuse burning toward an explosion neither of you cares to stop.

Yuna’s voice drops lower, more venomous. “You think fucking me over behind my back was okay? At least I had the decency to keep it private. At least I didn’t—” She cuts herself off, centering herself before continuing. She knows her strikes will land harder if she’s calm to deliver them. “Do you have any idea how it felt?”

You don’t respond. You can’t respond, and she doesn’t stop.

“I found out months later,” she says, voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “Randomly. Just—stumbled across a conversation between you and your drinking buddies. ‘Look at her tits, isn’t she fucking unreal?’” Her eyes are burning now, the reflection of the impending explosion clearer than ever. “And they agreed. Told you how fucking lucky you were. All while I had no idea you were passing those pictures around like a fucking trophy.”

She had you dead to rights, but you didn’t care. “I was drunk.”

Her laugh is pure ice. Unamused and willing to kill. “Oh, fuck you.”

You began forming something that barely resembles an excuse. Against your better judgement. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the fucking problem,” she snaps, stepping forward until she’s practically in your space. “You never thought. You never cared.”

You snapped back, your version of the truth different from hers. “That’s not true.”

Her head tilts again. It’s her tell for being in disbelief, her eyes dark. “Isn’t it?”

Silence. You wanted it not long ago, but now it’s suffocating.

You don’t have an answer.

Or maybe you do, but you don’t want to say it. Maybe there is some truth to you being an asshole.

Yuna scoffs at your lack of response, then turns away. You expect her to storm off, to put as much distance between you as possible, but she doesn’t. Instead, she walks to the counter, grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting there, and pours herself a bottom. She knocks it down without effort.

You frown, knowing what kind of omen this was. “Drinking already? That’s a bad idea.”

She scoffs, pouring herself another. “Yeah, you’re famous for being good with alcohol.”

You don’t respond to her accusation. There’s no point. What she did was worse anyway. “Alcohol makes you messy.”

She smirks bitterly, raising her glass in mock salute about as same as she raises her eyebrows, taking a deliberate sip. “Yeah?” Her eyes catch yours, a toned down version of the scowl she gave you when you called each other all of the worst names in the book. “And whose fault is that?”

You don’t answer.

Yuna leans her hip against the counter, swirling the amber in the glass, watching the shards of ice melt with cold despondency. It’s clear she intends to keep drinking until she forgets you’re here, only further encouraged by you telling her not to. “You know what really pisses me off?” she says, voice flat and almost bored to the point you expect her to start ranting about traffic. “You never once apologized. Not really. Not in a way that meant anything. Kept blaming us falling apart on me.”

You shake your head. Why the fuck should you have? “What would that change?”

She laughs, like she still can’t believe someone like you exists. “Clearly nothing for the better. Imagine if I forgave you and we’d still be together? God, my life would suck.”

She makes you want to punch the wall. Grab the bottle, pour a drink yourself, and then throw it across the room. Instead, you can’t help but just stare at her, the way she’s holding herself together with poison and venom and clear lack of self-awareness.

She turns, propping herself on her elbows the way she used to when you’d talk late at night, half-naked and always moments away from fucking. “You really are some kind of fucked up curse I can’t get rid off, aren’t you?” she says. “Even after the breakup. Even now.”

You move away to the other side of the kitchen. Matching the distance you clearly need, but still not being able to let go of needing to keep her in view. “You’re the one playing house with my best friend. I was fine letting it go.”

She rolls her eyes so hard you can practically hear them. “If I knew he had anything to do with you, I wouldn’t have fucked him in the first place.”

The old rhythm of the fight, the same beats, same dying breaths of your relationship are familiar. “You’re the bitch who started sleeping around before we even broke up.”

She swings her gaze at you, face flushed now, lips parted. “You want to talk about sleeping around? You were fucking half the city before I even finished moving out.”

You try to remember who, but the truth is blurry and unimportant. “That’s not the same. You know it.”

She downs her second drink, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You know what’s different? I never lied about what I was doing.”

You flinch, because you remember the night she found out. Her phone on speaker, your voice in the background with your friends, and her face going still and cold as she listened. You remember the way she threw your shit out the window, the way she didn’t cry until you left.

You let your voice go flat. “What do you want from me?”

She laughs, low and bitter. “Nothing. That’s the point.”

“What about you?” she asks. “Do you actually care about him, or is this fight you’re picking all about me?”

It’s a punch in the gut, and she knows it. You care about your friend, of course you do, but the truth burns in your throat: you care more about not being the one who gets to have her.

You settle for a half-truth. “He’s my friend. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

She snorts. “You always were the hero, weren’t you?”

You let that hang in the air, thick and ugly.

She doesn’t. Waits for you to rot in it, and continues, “You know, the thing about you is, you always want people to think you’re the good guy. Even when you’re doing the same shit everyone else does, you want a gold star for feeling bad about it after.”

You flinch. She sees it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you say.

A pause. “Fuck you.”

She pushes herself up on the counter with ease. She was always stronger than she seemed. Theatrically crosses one leg over the other, lazily taking sips from her drink. It’s almost habitual how you reach for your phone, wanting to frame her, take another beautiful shot she’d thank you for, before posting it on her instagram. You kill that thought, but you can’t be blamed for it.

She just looks so infuriatingly good with the dim kitchen lights barely making her sheer fabric top translucent enough to cast the same checkered patterns on her skin. Her olive-green top hugs her front but leaves her hips open, with that pleated skirt riding so high on her thighs you can almost tell the full color of her ensemble. Her hair a slightly lighter color than leaves in decay, the orange a contrast to the darkness inside her, perfectly framing the soft sharpness of her face.

She’s dangerous, deadly, venomous and poisonous combined—beautiful.

She tilts her head, watching you watching her, and clicks her tongue. “You’re still pissed.”

You don’t answer. You don’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, you turn, bracing your hands against the counter, pretending like you can still create distance.

But she doesn’t let you. Instead, she hops down, her black thigh high boots clicking against the floor as she steps in your space, closing the gap you just tried to make and then some. “Are you fucking scared, or something? Going to ignore me?”

Your jaw tightens. “I think it’s the only option that doesn’t end in disaster.”

Yuna hums, unconvinced. “That’s funny. Considering every fucking disaster in my life has your name on it.”

You exhale sharply, fingers curling against the counter. “Don’t act like you’re some fucking victim.”

She scoffs. “Don’t act like you’re not to blame.”

A thick silence lingers between you, and the storm outside rages harder. Then, she lifts a hand, threading her fingers through your hair. And pulls. Hard. The crazy bitch.

“I know you,” she whispers.

Your hand shoots up, wrapping around her wrist, firm and threatening. “You don’t know shit, bitch.”

“We’re the same,” she says, and makes it sound like an insult. “We’re exactly the fucking same.” She grins, mean and razor-sharp. “And I know you still fucking want me.”

Your fingers tighten around her wrist. You should push her away. You don’t. Instead, you're caught wondering if she’s also reminded of the last time you were together, and how it started with her hands in your hair too but ended with you fucking her against the wall. You don’t prod about it though.

“I knew alcohol would make you messy,” you mutter.

Yuna scoffs, yanking back just enough to glare up at you, eyes flashing. “Oh, fuck off.”

You smirk despite everything. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Her eyes darken, rage flaring hot and immediate. “You’re the last fucking person who gets to talk about self-control.”

Your jaw locks. “And you’re the last fucking person who gets to act like you’ve got any left.”

She locks up for a moment, and then just sighs. Her hand lets go of your hair, and her other finds your free wrist. She pulls it close, you let her, and it lands right over her heart, palm just above her chest.

You can feel the way she hammers against your palm. She holds your hand there, pinning it hard enough you know she’s daring you to pull away first. She won’t let you.

“You feel that?” Yuna whispers deadly soft. “I bet I can feel the same happening inside of you right now..”

You can’t look at her, so you stare at the bruising throb beneath your palm. She’s always been like this—turning vulnerability into a weapon, making every weakness a blade. You remember the first time you saw her cry, the way she clung to you with the same desperate energy, making you dance to her tune using any beat she could.

Your fingers twitch against her skin, a reflex, a mistake. You try to cover it up. “I don’t care,” you say, but your voice cracks on the last word. 

She catches it instantly, a cruel smirk ghosting over her lips. “See? You feel it too.”

You close your eyes and focus on your breathing, trying to remember what you’re supposed to be angry about. It’s so much easier when you can’t smell her. When you’re not staring at the shape of her hips, the color of her lips, the way her skin always felt warmer than anyone else’s. But she’s always been good at making things impossible.

Your breath is controlled. “You don’t know what the fuck I feel.”

Her nails dig into your wrist, her eyes burning with something hotter than her skin. “I know exactly what you feel. I know because it’s the same as me. I hate you so much I can’t fucking breathe.”

“Yeah, I fucking hate you too, Yuna.” Your voice is low, wrecked, and dangerous. “You think I don’t hate you for being a cheating bitch? For what you fucking ruined?”

She laughs, and the sound tunnels into the veins in your neck like a snake's venom. “You think I ruined you? You ruined me first.”

She lets go of your wrist. She leans in so close her breath ghosts across your lips, and you think she might kiss you, or slap you, or maybe both. Instead, she rocks back a half-step, and with a theatrical roll of her eyes, she grabs the hem of her shirt and yanks it up. 

Her tits are as you remember—small, perfect, the kind of delicate symmetry that haunts your every half-drunk jerk-off to that video you promise yourself you will delete—next time, for sure. You’re fucking awful. But so is she. Fucking exhibitionist. She cups them, thumbs rolling over dark nipples already hard from the cold or the fight or both.

“Tell me you don’t still think about these,” Yuna jeers, rolling them in her palms, the motion so practiced it’s less seduction than threat. “What’s the matter?” she says. “They look so good you forgot how to talk?” Her fingers pinch at her nipples, a show for you and only you. “I remember how you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth off them.”

You grit your teeth and look away, but she’s relentless. “What, you’re too good for them now?” She leans in, voice dropping to a hiss. “You worshipped these. Licked them raw, bruised them, bit until I came. That’s the only thing you were ever good at—fucking.”

You want to deny it, to bury her under old resentment or laughter, but your hands are shaking and your throat is closing up and they just look like they fit perfectly in your hand. “They’re not even that special.” You spit it, hoping to make it true.

“Liar.” She tips her head as if considering you, then slaps her own tit, hard, the sound sharp in the silence. “Remember how you’d do this?” Another slap, harder. “You’d make me beg for it when you were mad. You’re still mad, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I remember you begging for it,” you say, voice hollowed out. “Remember you begging like the slut you clearly still are.”

Yuna chuckles, nose wrinkling and points at your twitching fingers. “God, you’re predictable. You can’t even pretend you don’t want it.” She grabs your hand, forces it up against her chest, smashes your palm flat against herself. Her nipple’s hard as glass, her skin hot, electric. “Go ahead and tell me you don’t think about these tits every night.”

You try to pull away, but her grip is iron. Or maybe, it’s the magnetism of her tits working your hands. “I don’t think about you at all.”

“You know what I think? I think the only honest thing you have is your cock.” She moves your hand, thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple the way she likes—hard—notching pain into pleasure, just enough to remind you of every night that ended like this and every morning after that didn’t. 

“You still jerk off to that video of mine you shared?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to. The silence is admission enough. But you will certainly delete it now.

She lets the shirt loose, but it catches halfway, leaving her chest bare and her stance unbothered. She leans in close, close enough that you consider kissing her so she doesn’t say what comes next.

You can’t.

She says, “I know you do. I bet you fucking need it. Bet it’s the only way you can get off anymore.” She trails a finger down your chest, slow and deliberate, then flicks the button of your jeans. “You want me to prove it?”

The words cut something open in you, and you hate her for it, hate yourself more for the way your cock goes hard, for the way your hand refuses to let go. 

She sees it. She feels it in the way your hand pinches her nipple tighter every time she opens her mouth.

“See?” she taunts, voice almost gentle. “You literally can’t let go. You miss me. Miss my taste. Miss how I let you do whatever sick shit you need to get off.”

“Fuck you,” you say, but there’s no real threat behind it. No silence either.

She steps in, her hips buck against yours and her spine arches. “Go on. Do it. Get it out of your system. You know you want to. Ruin another relationship, asshole.”

You lock eyes, both scowling at each other like you want to see blood.

And then, everything explodes.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it doesn’t fucking matter.

Her mouth crashes against yours like a car wreck, all teeth and desperation and violence. There’s nothing soft about it, nothing careful. Just rage and ruin and years of hatred bleeding into something equally destructive.

Your hands tangle in her sunset hair, yanking, punishing, dragging her closer as her fingers dig into your back, nails scraping, desperate to pull you apart just as much as she’s trying to hold you together.

You bite her lip, hard enough to barely not draw blood, and she laughs into your mouth, the sick bitch, dragging you forward by the collar of your shirt until your tongues clash. She fists your hair and yanks your head back so she can look you dead in the eye, her own pupils blown wide and wild.

She tears at your shirt, buttons popping, and you’re just as ruthless—pushing her back until her ass hits the counter, lifting her by the thighs and slamming her down so hard the glasses rattle. Her laugh is muffled by your mouth, but she’s not backing down, not for a fucking second.

She yanks your jeans down in one practiced motion, and your cock springs out, hard and angry. She spits in her hand and jerks you, slow at first, then rough, just short of painful. 

“Look at you,” she taunts, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Such a piece of shit. You’d fuck your best friend’s girlfriend in his own kitchen?”

You grit your teeth, refusing to look away. “You’d let me.”

She grins, mean and triumphant, and leans in close enough her breath is hot on your mouth. “I’d let you do anything, remember?”

You don’t let her have the last word. You reach up, grab her by the throat, just tight enough to remind her what letting you get your way means. “Such a fucking bitch, getting off on cheating. You’re fucking dripping already.”

She bares her teeth in a grin, even as you squeeze, and hikes her skirt up, spreading her legs wide. “And I bet you fucking missed it. Missed ruining me.”

Your body answers on instinct. Fingers slide into her, two at once, rough and unkind, just how she liked—fuck, just how she needed it. She bites her lip, eyes rolling but locked on yours, daring you to go further. Her cunt is soaked, hot, clutching at your fingers like she’s starving. “Still a whore, Yuna,” you murmur against her jaw.

She jerks your cock harder, twisting her wrist with every pump, spit and precum making it filthy. “Still a fucking loser. You’re dripping like a teenager.”

You pull your fingers out, shove them into her mouth. She doesn’t miss a beat, her lips wrapping around them tight, eyes never leaving yours, tongue swirling like she’s refusing to grant you a single ounce of her taste. You pull away, and she smirks, wiping her mouth clean with the back of her hand. “Fucking sicko.”

You go to shove your fingers back in, but she slaps your hand away, eyes gone wide. “Don’t,” she says, voice low. “Stop pussy-footing. I don’t give a shit about your fingers.”

She wants to get fucked, and you’re angry enough to oblige her. You yank her off the counter by the hips, her boots scraping against the tile as you spin her around, pressing her front-first against the humming fridge. 

Her skirt is all bunched up over her ass, and you don't give her a second to play coy, just ram yourself against her, cock hot and thick at her entrance, her cunt so wet there's zero resistance. She's expecting it, braced for it, rocking her hips back into you with a snarl like she thinks she can take anything you've got.

You slam into her like you’re trying to break her. This isn't just about pleasure, it's about taking what’s yours—about hammering every inch of her until she remembers. You palm the back of her neck and shove her cheek to the fridge, hold it there while you drive into her hard enough the magnets rattle off and polaroids slither down the door. She laughs, a shrill and gasping sound, then cuts it off with a ragged moan.

"Fucking little slut," you spit, the words pure reflex now.

She just smirks at your reflection in the metal, voice breathless and mean as ever: "Yeah, keep pretending you don't love it, loser. You always pound like a dog in heat when you're angry."

You clamp a hand around her throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to get her attention. "You belong to me. Always fucking did."

She hisses, "Then fuck like it, asshole."

She coughs out a laugh even as you tighten your grip, her body clenching around you so hard it almost hurts. Her skirt rides higher, exposing pale lines of ass and thigh, the harsh red imprint of your palm already blooming on her skin. “You missed my pussy,” she taunts, wriggling her hips, milking you with every thrust. “Probably couldn't even last a week before you started thinking about it again.”

You want to deny her, but the crackle of her body under you, the heat of her, the way her voice shakes with every ragged inhale—it’s all too fucking much. You yank her hips higher, angle her tighter, so you can slam in deeper, harder, the way she always used to whine for. Yuna makes a guttural noise, forehead pressed cold to the fridge, fingers splayed and bracing as you rut into her like the worst of animals.

She sneers over her shoulder, her hair a whip of fire, mouth ruined with spit and laughter. Her eyes dig in before her words do. “God, your best friend? That’s so fucking low, even for you.” She’s goading you, because where does she get off on? She’s his girlfriend. But the edge is real—she wants you to hurt her, to make it worse for both of you. 

You do. You grab a fistful of her hair and wrench her back, her back arching as you keep her pinned and helpless.

“Admit it,” you growl against the shell of her ear. “You thought about this every day. Couldn’t get yourself off without thinking about me fucking you like this.”

She inhales, sharp like a sob, but you know the sound—it’s the edge of hysteria, the same one you still wake up with hard and guilty. “You wish. You wish I gave a shit.” She’s already close, the heat in her voice melting into desperation as you snap your hips up and in, grinding against her clit the way she always melted for.

You feel her pulse on the brink, body taut as a wire, and you want to drag it out, make her beg for every second. When you slow, just enough to keep her hanging, she shrieks and slams her boot down, catching you in the shin. "Don’t you fucking dare," she barks. "Fuck me harder, you stupid idiot."

You see red. You snap your hips forward, brutal, driving every inch home so she has to gasp, has to bite back her own noises lest she makes you think they’re for you. Her hands slap the side of the fridge, desperate for purchase. “Oh, fuck, yes, like that—don’t stop, don’t you fucking dare—” The voice is shrill, splintered, not herself at all, and you know how close she is by the way her muscles start to flutter and seize.

You lower your voice, inject it like a toxin. “You gonna cum for me? Show me how much you love being my fuckhole?”

She glares back, lips sneered and eyes wet, and hisses, “I fucking hate you.” And then, just to spite you, she squeezes around you, thighs shaking, cunt gripping so hard it feels like she’ll milk you dry. You barely keep it together.

You grab her tighter, knuckles white, palms bruising her hips, and fuck her so hard she’s got to scrabble for traction, boots slipping across the linoleum, boots that make her legs look a mile long. Her cheek and tits mash up against the freezer door, open-mouthed noises leaving her and you’re her only audience.

She’s gasping, cursing, pushing back into you with everything she’s got left. “God—fuck—you—” Each word chopped up and useless between thrusts, but you match her beat for beat.

Her cunt clamps and pulses, the heat of it slick and obscene, and you slam into her until the only thing holding her up is your grip on her hips and her toes barely reaching the floor. The wet impact of your bodies echoes in the quiet house, so loud you wonder if the snow outside could forget even after it melted.

She starts to shake, you feel her whole body shudder. You’d forgotten what this looked like—her going silent, her body wracked and raw at the precipice. You press closer, cheek to the nape of her neck, and rasp it into her ear: “You’re mine. Doesn’t matter what you say. You always crawl back.”

Her back arches, boots scrambling, and you feel her legs give one last valiant effort before she breaks, her knees buckling. You brace her up as she cums, clutching her around the waist as she spasms against you. But this time, it’s different. The orgasm goes so hard she shrieks, a high, ragged sound, and suddenly she’s gushing, the inside of her thighs slick with an impossible heat. She fucking squirts. It’s never happened before, not once, not even in your best self-congratulatory memories.

Yuna sags, legs boneless, and you let her collapse to the floor, boots folding under her as she clings to the fridges doorhandle. The slick puddle spreads around her knees, glistening wet on the tile. She stares up at you in dazed disbelief, face flaming red, every inch of smugness burned out of her for one glorious second.

She glares up at you, lips trembling, still shuddering in aftershock. “F-fuck off—” she gasps, and tries to push to standing, but her legs won’t work. You crouch down, grip her jaw in your palm, thumb digging bruises into the hollow beneath her cheek.

“Doesn’t matter who you fucked, or who you’re fucking,” you begin to degrade. “You belong to me. You always fucking will.” You jerk her head up, make her look at you, make her see it.

She doesn’t recoil. Doesn’t flinch.

She laughs. Not soft. Not amused. It’s cracked and furious and full of something sharp enough to draw blood.

“Belong to you?” she rages. “You don’t get to say that.”

Her voice is a dagger. Her eyes are fire.

“If I belonged to you, you would’ve protected me. You would’ve fucking treasured me. But no. You had to show me off to your drinking buddies like I was some shiny fucking toy—send my body around like a trophy.” She shoves at your chest, not to get free—just to drive her point deeper.

“You ruined me before I ever cheated. You treated me like a fucking prize, and then got shocked when someone else reached for it.”

You open your mouth to shoot back—but she’s not done. Her voice shakes now, but it doesn’t soften. “You ruined what we had the second you turned me into something to make other men jealous of. You wanted them to look. You wanted them to imagine fucking me. So don’t come crawling back now, acting like I’m yours.”

Your jaw tightens. You fire back. “You didn’t just let someone reach,” you growl. “You opened your legs and invited him in.”

“Oh, I fucking did,” she shoots back, eyes blazing. “But you made it easy. You made me feel disposable. So I disposed of us.” She leans in, breath hitting your mouth like fire. “And now?” she says, voice dropping into something cruel and final. “Now your best friend gets everything you lost. Gets to fuck me like this. Every day. He’ll get my moans, my body, my mess. All of it.”

She grabs your wrist, claws digging in, daring you to flinch. “And you’ll remember you had it first—and still fucking lost it. Because you didn’t keep me. You didn’t treasure me. You paraded me.”

You bark out a bitter laugh, your eyes avoiding hers. “Like you were ever something fragile.”

Her nails press harder. “I was yours, you stupid piece of shit.”

She leans in so close your foreheads almost touch.

“You want to fucking own me?” she whispers, but it hits the inside of your skull all the same. “Then you should act like you’re the only one that fucking deserves me.”

You grab a fistful of hair, knot it at the base of her skull, and feel the helpless tremor that courses through her as you haul her up onto her knees. “You need to learn when to shut the fuck up,” you growl.

She snorts, but her mouth is already open and waiting, tongue out like a dare. She braces herself, but you don’t give her time to prepare. You guide your cock right to her lips and shove it in without warning, forcing the head onto her tongue and the rest past her teeth before she can even suck in a breath.

She’s always struggled with you. Always loved to whine about your size, the ache in her jaw, the way it made her eyes water if you even hinted at holding her down and making her take it all. But she never said no.

She gags on you the way she always did, never compromising, never making it easier—for either of you. The wet heat of her tongue makes your knees shake. You want to bury yourself in her, fuck her throat until she sobs, but you don’t. Not yet. You pull until she blinks back tears, the orange strands wrapped around your fist fully tensed.

“I’m not letting you off the hook until you get it all the way down. Nose to skin,” you whisper, digging your heel in because you can, because for once, she’s on her knees in a way that feels like a win.

She faces it head on. Or rather, she tries, but even as she forces her face forward, you feel the resistance—the frantic contraction of her throat, the wet sound of her choking on you, the drip of spit running down her chin. It only makes her clamp harder, fight more. You anchor both your hands in her hair, hold her steady. “All of it,” you say. “Don’t you dare fucking stop. I want to feel you choking on it.”

God, she tries so hard, her mouth straining open around your girth, her hands clutching your thighs for leverage. She's always been so proud—‘I can take it, I can take anything’—but her gag reflex is a cruel fucking adversary, her throat clenching and rejecting even as her eyes water in defiance. She pulls off, coughs hard, wipes the spit string from her mouth with the back of her hand, and glares up, tears streaking mascara in runnels down her cheeks.

“Fucking asshole,” she barks, voice hoarse. “You expect anyone to fit a sewer pipe down their throat?”

“Never heard you complain before,” you sneer, still holding her tangled hair.

She laughs, ugly and bright. “You never asked the impossible before.”

But even in her accusation, she leans forward, tongue swiping the underside, jaw shuddering as she lines her lips up and tries again. She tongues the slit, working you over, cheeks hollowed, and lets your cock slide in, out, in—gradually deeper. She’s making a show of it. She knows you’re watching, knows you want her to suffer for it, but she’s not going to let you win easy. Inch by inch, she forces herself further, the muscles in her neck trembling as she approaches her limit.

You don’t force it. That’s the bargain. She’s the one who decides what’s possible, and she’ll choke herself out before she surrenders an inch of pride.

She gags again, pulls away, gasps for air and spit drips on the floor. Her throat is raw and angry, but her eyes are nearly feverish with exertion and a hatred so rich it could almost be mistaken for love. She clenches her fist, pounds once on your thigh like the world’s dumbest drumline, then sets her jaw and goes in for round three.

She’s determined now, nails digging into your thigh as if she could punish you for the size of your cock.

She sets a rhythm, shallow at first, more theatrical taunts than real progress, but you can see the calculation in her eyes: the miserable, obsessive math of her pride against the next few minutes of her life. She’s going to do it or die trying. 

You let her. Let her fight for it, tongue killing it with spit and tenacity, jaw flexing, lips straining to stretch and seal, every slip and drool and gag making her more desperate to win. She hates you more with every motion, and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Her face is a mess, smeared makeup, cheeks wet, eyes wild and glassy, and you know without asking that she wants you to watch every second of this. Wants you to remember it. Wants to make you remember her.

After a dozen abortive half-bobs and recoveries, she leans her head back, sucks in a gasp, and glares up through her ruined lashes. “If you want it all the way, asshole, help me. I can’t do it on my own.” She wipes the mess off her chin and doesn’t blink. “Do it before I change my mind.”

You twist your hands in her hair and pull, hard as you dare, until her chin is up and her mouth is open and her eyes are locked on yours. “Fine,” you say, and you mean it. She wants punishment, wants to see what you’ll do when she gives you the green light to ruin her. What’s one more thing for her to regret about you?

The first drive in is deliberate, slow enough she can anticipate it, fast enough you know she’ll try to flinch. You bring her mouth to the crown and hold her there, thumbing at her jaw to make her open wider. She breathes through her nose, determined, hands braced on your thighs for the impact. Your cock slides in, meets the first resistance at the roof of her mouth. She gags, just once, and you ease off. You hate her, but you want to enjoy this more.

You let her retreat, let her cough and spit and wipe her lips. “Again,” you demand. She grits her teeth and sets her mouth, and you fuck into her face a second time. This time, you don’t stop until you feel that resistance, the muscular gate at the back of her throat, and you hold there, gentle pressure, waiting. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to breathe around you, but it overwhelms her, the wet, frantic clench of her tongue and throat as she coughs against your length. You let her off, let her gasp for air, let her pride curdle into something even meaner.

“Again,” you growl once more, and she obeys, hating you for it, loving the feeling of it. Third time, she nearly gets it, the tip pushing hard against the tight ring, but she loses her nerve and yanks back, coughing, tears streaming now. She’s a mess, mascara everywhere, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth. She’s never looked better.

She glares at you, wrestles her head back. “I’ll bite if you don’t get this shit over with, this time like you fucking mean it.” 

She clamps her lips around your cock, jerks her head forward and jams you in, nose the shortest distance from your groin for a split second before her body rebels and she chokes, throat seizing, spit and pre-cum leaking out as she yanks off, retching. You almost bust right then and she can feel it. Has always had her tongue on your pulse for that.

You give her a beat to recover. She doesn’t need it. She’s already going back in, driven by spite and the need to prove herself. She works you over, bobbing shallow, then deep, using her tongue like a weapon. Every time she sinks lower, you feel it—her throat fluttering, the tight, desperate seal of her lips. She gets it halfway, three-quarters, then finally, on the fifth attempt, she rams herself down, takes every fucking inch, and stays there, nose mashed to your skin, throat shuddering and pulsing around your cock, impossibly tighter than her pussy.

Hell, it might become your new favorite hole of hers.

She can't make a sound, can't even breathe, but her eyes roll up to find yours, something giddy and hateful and victorious in them as she holds you at the hilt. The last shreds of self-preservation are gone—she's going to black out before she lets you have the last word. 

You count the seconds. One. Two. Three. Her nails score furrows into your thighs, the world narrowing to a white-hot tunnel of pressure and pride. At four seconds, her whole body seizes. At five, she slaps your hip—a desperate, furious signal—and you pull her off, fast, your cock slithering out with a wet gasp that leaves her hacking and sobbing for air. But she doesn't flinch away. She stays on her knees, hanging off your thighs, eyes glazed and wet, mouth open and drooling.

You want to gloat. You want to tell her she finally did it. But the way she's looking at you, spit and tears shining on her skin, you can't say anything. You just stare at each other, panting, until she wipes her face and grins. It's crooked, half-mad, feral. “You really are stupid, huh?” she rasps, eyes wild. “You didn’t win. You just watched me prove I can take more than any other bitch you’ll ever fuck. And I’m not even done yet.”

She reaches up, slow and shaky, and smears the mess off your cock with her palm, then licks it off her hand. Every motion is a dare.

You haul her up, unable to stand the distance, and kiss her. Hard. You don't care about the taste, the mess, the bruises blooming beneath your fingers. You just want her, want to swallow her whole, want to make her stay this time. She melts into you, body limp and boneless from the fight, but her tongue is still a blade—cutting, searching, never surrendering.

The hatred between you is a living thing, snarling and slavering, but it’s got nothing on the hunger.

She breaks the kiss with a sharp bite to your bottom lip, pulling away with blood on her mouth and spite in her eyes.

“That’s all you are,” she whispers, ragged. “A habit I haven’t killed yet. A fuck I regret just enough to repeat.”

You want to slap her. You want to fuck her again. You can’t decide which.

She stares you down, dazed but deadly.

“You’re never going to get over me.” Her grin turns feral. “And I’ll still be riding someone else’s cock.”

You snort. “Yeah? And you’ll be thinking about me the whole time, and you fucking know it.”

Her lips part, ready to strike, but the words falter. For a second, there’s nothing—just the heat of your breath and the metallic taste of blood where she bit you. She stares like you’re a puzzle, or an infection. Then she shoves up from the floor, boots leaving streaks in the puddle she’d made, and stalks to the sink, not bothering to look back. The muscles in her back and ass flex as she leans over the basin and runs cold water, splashing it onto her face, hands, the insides of her thighs. She peels off the soaked skirt, flicking it into the sink. Top goes next, then the bra. She wipes her face, then turns, wearing nothing but black panties still pulled to the side and those tall, stompy boots.

She stands there for a minute, breathing hard, then turns to face you, arms crossed under her bare chest, pushing those tiny tits upwards every so slightly. "You're not done," she says, voice hoarse but level.

"Excuse me?"

She grabs the whiskey bottle, pours two fingers into a glass, and takes it back in one gulp. "Go lie on the fucking couch. Lose the clothes."

You almost laugh. "Why the fuck would I do what you say?"

She leans against the kitchen island, all hips and attitude. "Because you haven't cum yet and your cock is still twitching like it’s begging to knock me up." She grabs another glass, fills it, and sets it on the counter. "If you want to still paint my insides white, you'll go get on the couch and wait for me to ride you so hard you can't even remember your best friend’s name."

You want to argue. You want to stop this all at once the moment she mentions your best friend, but your cock’s still hard and your body’s still shaking and you know, deep down where the ruined part of you lives.

You strip off your shirt and jeans, leave them in a heap by the kitchen, and stalk into the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a resigned sigh. The cold leather against your back makes you shiver, but it doesn't matter. Every nerve is dialed up, every memory still alive in your skin. You lean your head back, close your eyes, try to remember what it was like fucking without destroying lives.

You hear the click of her boots before you see her, the slow, deliberate steps down the hallway. She doesn't bother with theatrics—just climbs right on top of you, knees pressing into the cushions at either side of your hips. Her panties are gone, tossed somewhere between the kitchen and here, and her cunt is still leaking, inner thighs glistening under the living room lamplight.

She climbs onto your lap, straddling you with that same insouciant, unhurried arrogance—like she’s measuring how long you can stand denial, how much you’ll suffer to get her. Her hands frame your face, nails tracing the ridge of your cheekbone, and for a split second her gaze softens. Not love, not even nostalgia, just a shocked recognition of how little either of you has changed, how perfectly you fit together even in pieces. 

She pulls your mouth to hers, tongue hot, kiss bruising, and when she finally angles her hips and lines you up, she doesn’t let you in. Not all the way. Just the head, just enough to make you shudder, just enough to make you beg. She holds you there, hips rocking tiny, hungry circles, cunt squeezing but not taking you in, not yet.

You grab her waist, try to force the issue, but she’s stronger than she looks, core muscles locking you out. “Always so fucking impatient,” she chides, breathless. She tilts her head, hair falling over her jaw, and taunts you with a slow, sinuous grind. “Beg.”

You consider telling her to go to hell, but you’re not that proud. Not anymore. “Please. I need you.”

She rolls her hips, teasing the head of your cock against her entrance, and for a split second you see a tremor in her jaw, something tender that she shoves down the second it appears. She slides down, slow, deliberate, taking you in inch by inch until you’re buried so deep you can’t tell where she ends and you begin. It’s so fucking good, so tight and hot, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t remember why you ever thought you could survive without this.

She rides you hard, but different this time. Not angry, not punishing—for the first time all night, she fucks you like she remembers what it was to want without hate. She keeps her eyes on yours, refuses to let you look away, refuses to let you hide. She kisses you in the gaps between thrusts, little kisses, soft and hungry, and you feel something collapse in your chest. 

You want to tell her to stop, want to tell her to never stop, want to ask if she remembers falling asleep in your arms, if she remembers the promise you made that you’d never let anyone else in. You wonder if she knows you’re breaking in reverse, right here, with her splitting her insides open upon you.

You reach up and run your thumb along her cheekbone. She goes still, breath caught, and for one awkward, naked moment it almost feels like you’re about to say it. That you love her. That you need her. You open your mouth.

She cuts you off with a slap to your cheek. She knows you, and knows what was about to come. “Don’t you dare,” she mumbles, staring you down. “Don’t you fucking dare, because I’ll say it too.”

You nod, silent. You both know what would happen if either of you said it out loud. It would ruin everything, all over again.

She shifts her hips, changing the angle, and it’s so fucking perfect you can see the sun rise in her eyes.

She’s so close you can taste it—the way her breath stutters, the way her body clings. You feel yourself edging, and try to warn her, but she just shakes her head, eyes wild and dangerous. “Do it,” she gasps, voice cracking. “Fucking fill me. You know you want to. I’m yours right?”

It destroys you. You lose it, hips snapping up, cock pulsing deep inside her as you cum, and she collapses down, grinding her clit against you, riding every wave. The feeling of your see spilling inside her, rope after rope bursting hot filling her up tips her over, and she spasms around you, shaking, teeth gritted, lips pressed to your neck. You hold her through it, arms locked, body pressed so close you can feel every aftershock.

You stay there, breathing each other’s air, until the world comes back.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift her head. Just lets herself slump against your chest, heartbeat wild and frantic. You run your hand up her back, gentle, tracing the line of her spine with just fingertips.

“Fuck you,” she says, heaving against your chest, breathing in rhythm with you. “I should still hate you for this.”

“You do,” you say, voice ruined.

She snorts, a tiny laugh, and nuzzles closer into your neck. “Not enough, apparently.”

A long silence. You think she’s fallen asleep, but then she says, so softly you almost miss it, “I didn’t even want to cheat on you, you know.”

You blink, stunned. The words don’t feel real. “You’re lying.”

She shakes her head, hair brushing your lips. “I’m not. I mean it.” Her next words are so quiet you can barely make them out. “I just didn’t know how else to lose you.”

You swallow, throat tight. “I’m sorry for giving you a reason to want to lose me. But you could have just left.”

She shrugs, a flutter against your chest. “I tried. You always came back.”

You pull her tighter, a mix of comforting and restraining her.

She whispers, “I hate what we do to each other.”

You say, “Me too.”

Neither of you moves for a long time.

Eventually she slides off of you, boots clicking as she strides to the kitchen fully naked, a fucking sight to behold, and pours two glasses full of her favorite cheap whiskey.

It’s all starting to become a little too real right now. You really fucked up.

A minute later, Yuna returns with a glass in each hand, knees a little wobbly, causing her to slosh some of the liquid on the floor as she sits beside you on the couch. She hands you a glass. You take it. You don’t toast or say anything. You just drink, side by side, with only the sound of wind and snow outside. The world is quiet, the storm outside muffling every regret and unspoken word.

“There’s no way he’s making it back tonight with this weather,” she opens up. “You know that, right?”

You nod a single time. “Yeah.”

She nurses her drink, gaze fixed on nothing, just straight ahead. “He’s a good person. You don’t deserve him.”

You smile, the taste of her still on your lips. “Neither do you.”

She laughs, and there’s no venom in it this time, just exhaustion. “True.”

You lean back, let the whiskey do its work. You’re so tired your bones feel like glass. The only warmth in the whole house is the furnace glow of her body beside you. You close your eyes.

A few minutes pass before you hear her phone buzz on the coffee table. She glances at it, then silences the notification.

You don’t even need to ask who it is.

She was right. You reach for her hand, and she doesn’t pull away. Instead she laces her fingers through yours, tight and desperate and bruising. The two of you sit there, broken and unfinished, until the world outside is nothing but a white static, and everything inside is a ruin you’re both too tired to escape.

After a while she curls against you, her head on your chest, your hand drifting across her bare back in mindless, endless, automatic strokes. You could almost imagine a different ending, a version where you both said the right things at the right times and never did the wrong things. You could almost imagine something good.

You sit together, not talking about anything that matters, because nothing left between you could ever matter again.

But when she sits on your lap, when she presses her cheek to your throat and breathes you in, you know it’s never over. Not really. Not for people like you.

You fuck on the couch again, slow this time, her hips grinding in lazy circles, your hands roaming her body like you still know every inch by heart. She comes with a soft sigh, legs wrapped tight around you, lips pressed to your collarbone.

She’s the first to speak, when you’re both breathless and spent:

“We’re fucking monsters,” Yuna whispers, and you hum in agreement, too tired to argue.

She cups your chin, angles your face to hers, and kisses you, soft and long. You think it might be over.

But instead, she gets up and heads toward the bathroom. Pauses in the doorway for good measure, poses in a way to frame her ass too good to not stare at, looks over her shoulder and says, “For the record, I still hate you. But I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

You hate her. You love her. You pour yourself another drink, then follow her.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 146: Hedge Magic

This episode references episode 123

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Ao3!

CWs: blood; group sex; oral sex; anal sex; enthusiastic consent

A/N: Another one that's not a request, but it's much softer than the last couple so it'll be a pleasant palette cleanser

####################################

The Technocrats were closing in. You'd lived here for a while without issue, but nobody stays underground for long. You could get away, sure, you knew more than a few tricks to slip through the grasp of a couple of assholes in black suits, but it'd be a shame to lose what you'd built with Andy, not to mention all the stuff you'd accumulated over the last half a decade or so. You had a friend living in New York, a slightly washed up old ascension warrior calling himself Blitz. He owed you more than a few favours from the old days, and would be more than happy to put you up for a while in exchange for some enchanted drugs. Only problem was getting you, your bull-headed squeeze, and a flat's worth of aggregated crap together and across the Atlantic without passing through an airport. Air travel is a pretty risky bet for a tradition mage when they weren't on to you. Right now, airport security was a damn good way to find yourself face-down in a ditch, or worse. The Techs could always find worse.

You had one good ace up your sleeve though. That particular magic that makes such concepts as "here" and "there" meaningless: Correspondence. You smiled to yourself, it was Blitz who first taught you how to teleport, years and years ago, when you were a bright eyed young witch looking to change the world. Now you're older, a little more jaded, a lot warier around outhouse-sized men with German accents. But, you'd retained his lessons, and you knew exactly how to get to NYC before the afternoon. It'd just take power.

Power. That's always the rub. It's different for every tradition. The Hermetics start chanting in dead languages, the Ecstatics get drunk, the Chorus pray, more than a few Virtual Adepts swear by a handful of some stimulant or other, normally washed down with their preferred caffeinated drink. You're a Verbena, from a long line of witches and wise women. Two generations ago, your forebears may have found a goat to slaughter, but you believed in a more ethical form of magic. Blood was still important, sure, but it could be your own. The real catalyst for your power was a little more enjoyable to get: cum, lots and lots of cum. Sex has power, and you knew a few men who'd happily give you some. It'd work with women too, but it's more traditional to seduce a bunch of guys, not to mention more fun.

You lay in the living room, delicately scratching glyphs and runes into your flesh with the tip of an athame. Andy was standing by, watching patiently as blood dribbled from the shallow wounds, beading on your skin before following your curves down to the increasingly ruined mattress you'd dragged in here for precisely this reason. Paul and Brian were coming to see you off, just as soon as they finished up some odd jobs they had to do. They didn't know where you were going, nor how you were getting there, only to light the candles you'd prepared when you'd gone, and find somewhere to burn the mattress. They didn't need to know the why, the closer they came to knowing what's really going on, the more danger they're in. You all knew that. You also had another caller on the way, a serval called Leo, very much another pseudonym. He was an Etherite, but he was also a good lay, and down to fuck whenever so when you were planning your leaving party, you sent an invite.

You finished carving the last letter into yourself, feeling your skin him and prickle with energy as you passed the bloody knife to Andy to put away, before reclining on the mattress. As if on cue, the two lupines opened the door, hanging up their coats, talking between themselves and a Moroccan accent you hadn't heard in years. Seems like everyone's here.

You didn't bother waiting for them to all get ready before getting started. The whole point is to get as much fucking as possible within a short time, and you'd just finished carving yourself up. It wasn't a usual pain pulsing from your wounds. It didn't make you want to rest and heal, it spurred you on. Magical wounds made with a magic dagger, for the purpose of channeling a particularly carnal magic.

You felt your face flushing as you wrapped your arms around Andy, kissing him as his hands slid over you. Your cunt was dripping, dribbling slick over your legs as you grabbed at his balls, each one the size of an orange.

His cock extended from his sheath, hardening between your legs. You closed your thighs around it, humping his shaft as he grunted. The voices from the hallway were becoming more distinct, before stopping altogether and they stepped through the bead curtain into the living room.

Leo laughed "You Verbena, always finding the fun ways of doing things. I call first dibs on her cunt"

You grinned, Andy wasn't going to like that, but that means you'll just get it harder from him later. You stood up, taking in the looks of shock on Paul and Brian's face, contrasted by the feline smile from Leo. You knelt in front of him, letting him push his crotch to your waiting mouth. It'd been so long since you'd been with a felinid, you'd almost forgotten how eager they could be. Your tongue barely started teasing his sack before you felt his hands in your hair.

He pulled you up to the his sheath, purring as your tongue dipped inside, meeting the tip of his rapidly hardening cock. The barbs always felt strange on your tongue, firm and rubbery. You ran your tongue around the tip, feeling him tightening his grip before you leaned backwards, dragging him down before rolling and trapping him under your hips.

"Wanna make my boy jealous?" you murmured into his ear, urging him on before lowering yourself onto him. You rubbed up and down, grinding your clit against his barbed cock, reducing the Etherite below you to a panting mess.

Paul must've gotten over his trepidation, he stepped up, positioning his drooling, knotted cock in front of your face. You put on your best face, opening your mouth as you gazed up into his eyes and stuck out your tongue, inviting him in. Another canid cock rubbed over your asshole, oozing the prodigious quantities of precum they were famous for. You felt a stream of cool lube, massaged into your crack as he pushed gently in.

You shifted slightly, allowing Leo to slide in, the ample amounts of slick letting him sink into you, all the way to the base. You moaned into the cock in your mouth, hearing Paul groan at the vibrations of your voice. You leaned back slightly, feeling your asshole stretch around Brian's member. Your hips rocked gently, feeling the barbs in your pussy, the knot against your ass. Four pairs of hands fondled you, guiding your movements on the men inside you. You let the pleasure wash over you, the barbs in your cunt rubbing against the smooth cock in your rear, the salty-sweet taste of the precum painting your mouth, knowing that this was just the starter, whichever hole came free first would get a foot of minotaur schlong jammed into it.

Waves of sensation flooded over you. Your heart thumped in your ears. Your legs spasmed. Your muscles clenched. Andy pushed your head into Paul's crotch, making you gag on him as he started to pump down your throat. He knew what he was doing, jamming the lupine's knot into your mouth, force-feeding you cum. You gasped for breath between pumps, alternating swallowing and breathing.

Leo wasn't far behind, holding your hips down onto him as he unloaded into you, thick cum squirting inside. You shuddered with the feeling of being filled from both ends. Simmering power building in your cuts flushing you with endorphins. Your legs tightened up against Leo, trapping him in as your cunt milked him dry.

The knot left your mouth with an audible pop. Andy pulled you off Leo, positioning his own dripping rod against your used hole. You were as light as a panting, sweating ragdoll in his hands, your skin streaked with drying blood as you circled your hips on him.

He didn't care for foreplay. He'd just watched you get fucked by three other men, and wanted you to know who you belonged to. You gasped as he entered, the wide flare stretching you. Every thrust made you squeak, every pull dragging a dribble of felinid cum out with it. Your eyes rolled back, you loved it when he used you like this.

Your hand closed around the other lupine, jacking him off as your man used you to jack off. Your legs were still twitching from the last orgasm. You tried to guide him to your asshole, Andy picking up on what you wanted, thrusting into you more than lifting you up, letting you stuff your other hole before he redoubled his efforts. Your moans drowned out your thoughts. The buzzing magic made your head spin. You groped at your tits, feeling the next wave coming over you.

Andy pressed you against the mattress, forcing the other knot inside. As soon as your ass tightened around the base of Brian's cock, that was it. More hot ropes spurted within you. More power fuelled your ritual. More of that delicious haze filled your head. You could barely think at all now, focused on getting a wombful of Andy's spunk. You squeezed on him. You stroked his wide chest. You stuck your tongue into his mouth. You felt those gargantuan balls slapping against your ass. Every shuddering stroke they got tighter, rising inexorably as you sank.

You brought your mouth to his fluttering ear, smelling the musky sweat slicking his wiry fur to his skin. You uttered your command

"Cum in me"

You can't do mind-altering magic. You never learned how. Never wanted to. But as soon as those words left your lips, it was as though you were a master. The shuddering breathing was replaced by deep, braying roars. Andy stuffed the last few inches of his member into you, making you gasp as you stretched. He held you down onto him, throbbing and mooing. Then you felt it. Thick, hot, spraying so hard you could feel the pressure against your back walls. He would've filled you to bursting, had so much of his prodigious load not squirted out of you. It pooled underneath you in a puddle of glue-like seed. Your juices mixed, the cum of the four men, your own natural lubricant, and of course the blood still dripping from your etchings.

Your body buzzed, like a hive of bees were under your skin, trying to get out. You were only dimly aware of Leo herding the other men out. You clung to Andy. Both your hands were on his head, fixing him with your gaze. Your ears rang. You tasted ozone. The seed boiled within you. The world flickered, and the room was gone.

Your head cleared, the intoxicating power spent. You looked up from your lover, his softening cock slipping from you in a flow of cum.

You were in a warehouse, surrounded by a circle of wires and humming server racks. A bored looking man leaned against a pillar; overweight, balding, what hair he had was dyed acid pink, wearing a pair of black jeans and a band t-shirt under a jacket made of more patches than denim.

Blitz.

"Heard you'd be coming to visit" he threw a gym bag at you "change of clothes and documents. You're called Melanie now, and the big guy's Hector. Born and raised in Utah. Help me get your shit in the van"

You dug out your new fake ID. It was immaculate, Blitz was an ass, but he's an old man in a profession where most die young. You pick up some tricks.

Melanie. You could get used to that name. You turned to Andy, now Hector

"Here's to a new life"

[kwilquib]

Party of Three

Kazuha (🦢) X Sakura (🌸) X Reader (📖)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Prompt for @suchsweetstories. Thanks for hosting!

The air hangs heavy, fragrant with warm skin and breathed liquor. Each breath shivers with a chorus of whimpers and muffled groans, until even the hush between sounds feels taut with pleasure.

Kazuha is the trembling center—back arched in a perfect curve. You pin her arms behind her, hips driving forward with relentless rhythm, keeping her weight tilted to meet every thrust. In front, Sakura molds herself to Kazuha’s chest, steadying her while still forcing that exquisite bend. She turns her gaze over Kazuha’s shoulder, eyes locking with yours, a slow smile spreading as Kazuha’s soft cries flutter against her neck.

“This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” she purrs, gaze flicking to yours while Kazuha gasps. “My greedy little slut—fantasizing about me and my boyfriend.”

The words are filthy, but Sakura’s fingers comb Kazuha’s hair with disarming tenderness. Each insult makes Kazuha clench, velvet heat gripping you so hard you curse under your breath.

“Fuck… you’re so tight.”

Sakura’s smile widens—she has both of you dancing on her strings, savoring the power as your control frays and Kazuha dissolves in breathless moans.

“Still hiding that voice?” she murmurs, lips grazing Kazuha’s ear. “We’re giving you everything, and you won’t even let us hear how badly you need it?”

Her hand slips lower. The moment Sakura’s fingers find Kazuha’s clit, a sharp cry rips free. The dam bursts: Kazuha’s once‑muffled sounds swell into shameless, aching wails.

“I‑I… can’t—” she tries, words shattering on her tongue.

“Speak.” Sakura’s command is velvet‑soft, relentless fingers never slowing. “You weren’t shy a moment ago—so eager to tell us every filthy thought.”

Kazuha can only sob, hips jerking as pleasure coils tight.

Sakura chuckles, wicked and fond. “This is your doing. That needy little mind of yours can’t think of anything but sex—”

Whatever she does next steals the rest of Kazuha’s breath: her body arches, clenches, a raw scream spilling as she convulses around you, proof that Sakura is guiding her right over the edge.

“Shit im close!!” you groan.

“Kazhua baby,” Sakura purrs, “You don't mind if my boyfriend cum inside do you?”

Kazuha didn't answer, her mouth still gasping, moaning, too busy with accommodating the pleasure.

“Do you?” Sakura asks again, more demanding now.

“No!” she screams, on the edge of pleasure herself. “Fuck… Please…”

Sakura shifts her gaze to you, “Do it, give it to her” she simply says, “She's ours tonight.”

 As if her words are the trigger, you broke. With a guttural groan that tore from your throat, you poured yourself into Kazuha, a hot, thick rush that felt infinite. Her body convulsed violently beneath you, a raw, keening scream ripping free as she shattered around your climax. The feeling of her seizing, clutching, taking everything you gave her was an electric shock, making you shudder and thrust one last, deep time before collapsing forward, heavy and spent.

Your strength finally gives out, and you shift to the side, collapsing onto the bed with a heavy breath. Kazuha drops beside you, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling as she succumbs to exhaustion. You reach out, gently brushing a few strands of hair from her face, revealing her peaceful expression beneath the mess of it all—soft, flushed, beautiful.

On the other side of the bed, Sakura stretches out, clearly the most energetic of the three. Her smile hasn't faded—still bright, still giddy—as she gazes at Kazuha with something close to adoration. Then her eyes flick to you. She leans in and cups your face, her thumb brushing your cheek.

“Who would've thought, huh?” she murmurs.

You can't help but smile back, still catching your breath. She’s right. You’re still reeling from how quickly Kazuha could shift—from sweet, shy stammering to something so intense it left your head spinning.

Moments earlier the three of you had sprawled in the living room. Sakura on the other edge of the table while Kazuha vanished into the kitchen to fetch more drinks. Party remnants lingered everywhere: half‑eaten cake on the coffee table, the TV still set to karaoke, balloons and pom‑poms drooping in corners, a tower of unpacked boxes shoved aside to clear floor space.

“Party” was generous; truthfully it was just you and your girlfriend scrambling to throw together something for Kazuha’s birthday.   Still, Kazuha’s place in your relationship had always been special. She’d been Sakura’s best friend long before you met her, the very reason you met Sakura at all, and even after playing matchmaker she never drifted away. When it was you and Sakura, things were romantic; when Kazuha joined, it shifted to three friends hanging out—easy, natural. You’d never questioned that balance … until tonight.

Kazuha was still rattling around the kitchen, leaving you and Sakura sitting cross‑legged on the floor.

“It’s been a long day,” Sakura sighed, tapping a sealed box within reach before gesturing to the birthday decorations. “You did so much. We should’ve gotten back from the store sooner,” she teased.

You drained the last of your drink. “I didn’t think—I just did what I could. ‘Go set up while I keep Zuha out’ isn’t exactly a detailed plan,” you laughed.

“At least it worked. We even picked up furniture on the way—efficient, just how she likes.” Sakura polished off her drink, then forked a bite of cake.

“True, but who decides to move right before their birthday? A house‑warming party should happen after unpacking, not during—and definitely not on the same night,” you muttered, keeping your voice low.

“She likes efficiency, 2 parties in one” Sakura repeated around a mouthful of cake. Then she swallowed and murmured, “I can’t wait to get home.”

“We’re not staying?” You blinked. “It’s late, we’ve both had drinks—we can’t drive.” Sakura stared, clearly lining up a rebuttal. “Unless there’s a specific reason you want to go home?”

She set her fork down and crawled around the table to press against you. You wrapped an arm around her.

“Why?” you asked softly.

“Don’t you want to go home?” she murmured.

“And leave Zuha alone?” The playful swat she gave your arm said she disliked that angle.

“Don’t you want to do something at home?” she asked, cheeks coloring.

The penny dropped. “You mean… you want to play?”

She didn’t deny it; the guilty smile said enough. “You want to go home because you want to queue up in League?”

“It’s just—playing with you, I like it more than I expected.”

“It’s been a long day. Even if we did go home, I doubt I’d last a match.” You glanced toward the kitchen. “And you’d leave Zuha alone on her birthday?”

“She’ll understand—she’s my best friend, she knows how much I lo—”

“Understand what?”

Kazuha pads back in, two fresh beers hissing in her grip. You take one, setting it on the table while Sakura scoots aside, suddenly sheepish.

“It’s nothing—you wouldn’t get it anyway,” you tease.

“That’s not fair.” Kazuha drops cross‑legged beside you, popping her can. “Every time I walk in, you two change the subject.”

Sakura exhales. “Fine. We finally did it—together.” She pauses for effect. “lol.”

Kazuha chokes mid‑swallow. “Wait, what?”

“You okay?” you ask, patting her back. “Bit of an overreaction, isn’t it?”

“I just assumed you’d… done that ages ago,” Kazuha sputters.

“Nah,” Sakura says, wiping foam from her lip. “Everyone says it can wreck a relationship if you’re not in sync.”

“They do?” Kazuha frowns, thinking.

“I’ve heard horror stories,” Sakura goes on. “Happy couples break up after one bad match. No synergy.”

Kazuha nods slowly. “Yeah… I guess I’ve heard things like that.” She lifts her can to hide a shy glance. “So—were you two… compatible?”

“We were,” Sakura answers at once, pride bright in her voice.

But Kazuha’s eyes linger on you, waiting. You shrug, grinning. “Yeah, it was fun—though Sakura definitely enjoyed it more. She keeps begging for another round.”

“We ended up doing it all night,” Sakura shyly admits.

Kazuha’s fingers tighten around her can. “All … all night?” she echoes, eyes wide.

Sakura gives a shy laugh. “We lost track of time. I’ve played with others before, but with him it was relaxed and fun.”

You notice Kazuha squirm, clearly unsettled. “Anyway, Zuha, this topic is going to bore you,” you say, glancing at Sakura. “You’ve never played, right?”

“H‑how did you know?” Kazuha sputters, shooting Sakura a glare. “Did Kkura tell you?”

“No,” Sakura chuckles. “You’ve just never brought it up—people assume.”

“I… I—” Kazuha falters.

“Okay, new topic. Furniture?” you suggest.

But Kazuha lifts her chin. “Even if I’ve never done it, I know a lot. I’ve studied.” Both you and Sakura blink at that. “I’ve read plenty.”

“You do?” Sakura perks up.

“Read?” you repeat. “That’s an unusual way to start—most people learn through videos.”

“I’ve watched them,” Kazuha mutters, cheeks tinged pink. “They get repetitive. Reading is more detailed. And lots of people read it too, so I’m not weird.”

“Sure…” you nod slowly, amused. “So, have you played before?”

“No. Never had the chance,” Kazuha says, shifting in her seat. “I can’t just do it with anyone, can I? I want it to be special. I guess.”

“Why? That’s kind of limiting,” Sakura laughs, leaning back. “Just do it yourself then.”

“That counts?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Sakura shoots back instantly.

Kazuha hesitates—then quietly says, “Then… I’ve already done it. A lot.”

“Are you sure it’s ‘a lot’?” you tease. “Because Sakura here is the definition of excessive. She’ll just sit there and do it for hours. Days blur together. I’ve had to physically pull her away some weekends.”

Sakura shrugs innocently, not even denying it.

“How often do you do it then?” you ask, grinning. “Sakura easily gets through ten in a weekend.”

“I… I don’t really keep count,” Kazuha mumbles, practically hiding behind her can. “Maybe… six? A day. If I’m really in the mood, I take the whole weekend.”

Sakura nearly chokes on her drink. You stare.

“…Per day?” you echo, slowly.

“I said maybe,” Kazuha defends, mortified. “I just—if I’m in the zone—I can’t stop once I start.”

Sakura nods solemnly. “She’s one of us.”

“How come I’ve never seen you do it?” you ask, genuinely surprised. Kazuha chokes on her drink. “I mean, if you do it a lot, how come you never told us?”

“Why would I tell you? Well, not now but people don't bring it up casually—or do it in front of others!”

“Well, if you’d told us, we could’ve done it together,” Sakura offers with a sly grin.

“Together??” Kazuha sputters, eyes wide. “You two—seriously?”

“Yeah,” you chime in. “We could’ve formed a three-man party. Played normals or quick play together. Though… playing with Kkura might not be the best idea—she gets really competitive.”

“Yeah—maybe just the two of us at first,” Kazuha says, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, trying to play it cool. “That might be a little less overwhelming.”

“I’m competitive??” Sakura snaps, mock-offended. “I’m not the one who starts swearing every time they get fucked. He just starts throwing insults.”

You turn to Kazuha in your defense. “Hey, it’s only during the game, okay? I’m not actually that kind of person… Right?”

“Yeah—cursing is pretty normal,” Kazuha agrees with a soft smile. “Honestly, I might even prefer the insults.”

“See?” you say smugly, turning back to Sakura. “Kazuha’s on my side. And I’m not the only one with verbal issues—you’re loud too. You make the weirdest moaning noises whenever you get hit. I’ve told you to stop doing that.”

“You don’t like it loud?” Kazuha asked, tilting her head with innocent curiosity.

“Not when she gets that loud,” you sigh. “Someone might overhear and get the wrong idea.”

“Every time,” you continue, “she’s the one getting carried, yet she screams like she’s fighting for her life.”

“I am, though,” Sakura fires back.

“Wait—carried? Screaming? Fighting for your life?” Kazuha’s voice laces with disbelief. “Is it that good?”

“Of course,” Sakura beams. “We did ten ranked placements last weekend. At first, his came out as Silver, but by the time morning hit—bam—we pushed it all the way to Gold.”

Kazuha chokes. “Silver? Gold? Gold?! Isn’t that kind of… unsanitary? I’ve seen videos. I know some people do it, showers, but I didn’t think you two would go that far. Isn’t that dirty?”

“It’s a pretty dirty—some say toxic—rank,” you explain, nodding. “But honestly, we’re enjoying it. It’s better than where we started.”

“I told you we should play all three together,” Sakura insists, already getting excited. “The laptops are in the trunk, right?”

“Wait… are we really doing this?” Kazuha asks, glancing toward you.

You shrug, grinning. “I mean, if that’s what the birthday girl wants—and if you're okay turning your celebration into an all-nighter—why not?”

“Then shouldn’t I do it with you first?” she says, her gaze flicking to yours.

“Hey!” Sakura cuts in. “That’s not fair—leaving me out?”

Kazuha hesitates. “Yeah, I guess that is reasonable… I’m sorry. Okay. Then… are we doing it now?”

“Yeah. Now,” Sakura answers, already sipping her drink like it's settled.

“Now?” Kazuha blinks.

“Yes!”

“Here?”

“Yes, here,” Sakura grins. “What, did you want a penthouse suite or something?”

Kazuha’s brows knit in concentration. “Then… should I start now?”

You and Sakura share a quick, confused glance, her brow raised in silent question. Are we on the same page…? you think.

But before either of you can say a word, Kazuha leans in. Her movements are slow but unsteady, like someone bracing against nerves and alcohol. Her breath is shallow, lips parted slightly, eyes fluttering shut as she inches closer.

Then—her lips press against yours.

Warm. Soft. A little dry.

Your mind goes blank.

The kiss isn’t practiced or smooth. It’s clumsy—her nose bumps awkwardly against yours, and for a second you’re both adjusting, finding some rhythm in the inexperience. But she doesn’t pull away.

In fact, Kazuha leans in more.

Her hand brushes your cheek hesitantly, trembling. Her lips press harder against yours, holding the kiss longer than you expected. It's messy, a little awkward… but honest. She’s trying. Committed.

You can feel it in the way her breath hitches when your lips shift slightly. The way she freezes for a second, then resumes, not knowing what to do—just doing it anyway.

Behind you, Sakura chokes on her beer.

You barely hear it.

You’re too focused on Kazuha—on the quiet vulnerability trembling in her kiss. Not passion, not lust, but raw, unspoken feeling. Hesitant hope.

Eventually, she pulls away. Barely.

Her face hovers close, breath mingling with yours, eyes still shut as if bracing herself for what comes next. When she finally opens them—wide, vulnerable, flushed—they lock onto yours.

But what greets her isn't affection. It's confusion.

Your brows are drawn, not angry, just baffled. Sakura sits frozen next to you, beer halfway to her lips, mouth parted in stunned silence.

“What exactly did you start?” you ask gently, half-smiling through the bewilderment.

Kazuha blinks. Once. Twice. “You… you said—” Her voice falters as panic creeps into her tone. “Wait, what were we talking about?”

“League,” you say carefully. “League of Legends? LoL?”

Her face turns the color of her drink—deep red, all the way to the ears.

Sakura finally finds her voice, her tone flat with disbelief. “Wait. You weren’t thinking about League, were you…? You were thinking about sex?”

“I—I—” Kazuha sputters, hands flailing briefly in protest before she buries her face in them. She sinks back onto the floor, absolutely mortified.

You, still dazed from the kiss, turn slowly to Sakura. “Then you read… wait did she really say she masturbated six times a day?”

Sakura nods stiffly, her lips pressed together in a line as she processes it. Then she glances sideways at you, mouthing silently: Did you like it?

You hesitate.

Because you don’t really know. It was awkward. But there was something… earnest. Unexpected.

Kazuha moves, trying to stand—probably to flee.

“I–I need to—just—leave, I didn’t mean—” she mutters, not even completing the thought.

But Sakura is already behind her. With surprising speed, she wraps her arms around Kazuha from behind, gently but firmly pushing her back into a seated position.

“Where are you going, birthday girl?” she teases softly, chin resting on Kazuha’s shoulder.

Kazuha freezes, breath caught.

Then Sakura glances at you over her shoulder, her eyes playful but half-lidded, her voice low:

“Babe. How about we give this naughty girl of ours a present? Grant her little fantasy—make it come true. Add another layer to her special day, make it a party of three.”

[writerpeach]

Sticky Sweet

IVE Wonyoung x m!reader

21k words

Part 9 of IVED Vanilla Latte

---

Read on AO3

“You’re coming with us.” That is precisely how they phrase it. No 'please,' no 'if you want to,' not an ounce of consideration. "I don't even like clubs—" "And?" Yujin interrupts, lifting a finger up to press against your lips to silence you. "This is non-negotiable." "What if I had other plans tonight?" "When have you ever had something planned that didn't involve either of us?" Wonyoung asks as she finishes applying mascara on her other eye. The two stare you down, arms crossed and unwilling to take no for an answer.

"Exactly," Yujin says as she disappears into the walk-in closet, returning a few moments later with two very different dresses. "Be ready in an hour."

That’s how you find yourself here.

You can hardly hear yourself think over the deafening music, blaring so loud you can feel it through the floorboards of the club these two finagled you into.

But you couldn't miss the chance for these two girls to show off, heels and tight dresses and heavy makeup, expensive jewelry dangling from their ears. Impossible for them not to be the center of attention the moment they step through the door, avoiding this massive line stretching down the sidewalk simply by flashing a smile to the bouncer, being let right through. 

You're pretty sure these two could get out of almost anything with the right facial expression. Just a raise of an eyebrow and a flutter of those luscious lashes, and their wish is everyone's command.

Once the three of you find a booth in the private VIP section, Yujin waves over a server, ordering two bottles of their most expensive champagne without even batting an eye at the price. "Can't believe daddy actually came along," Wonyoung shouts across the table. "Like, actually went to a club with us."

"Like he could ever resist us. All it takes to convince him is a slutty dress like this," Yujin says as she gives this little grin, that confident stare she's mastered over time. "And maybe the promise of fucking me in the bathroom if he's lucky. Right, daddy?"

The two of them giggle, already working on their first glass of champagne while scooting in close. It's a cozy enough booth, enough space that you're all able to slide in on one side, bare thighs brushing against yours and leaving no gaps between any of you. 

On your right, Yujin in this elegant white dress that matches the pearls hanging from her neck, the hem flirting past her hips. And to your left, Wonyoung in this tight, form-fitting black dress with sparkling gems that hug her curves, her long legs crossed so you can see every inch of them. 

"Daddy could never say no to getting his dick wet," Wonyoung says as she tilts her head back, gulping the last of her first glass and sets it down. Yujin laughs at that, almost spitting out her drink.

She’s not wrong. 

“It's too fucking loud in here," you complain, desperate to change the topic as you look around the VIP lounge. 

"Daddy's getting old,” you hear, and it’s Wonyoung, of course, who says that while pouring another glass. And you know she's mocking you, that look of faux innocence that earns a giggle from Yujin beside you. “Or maybe you're just used to listening to my screams and not anything else."

Yujin nearly drops her glass at Wonyoung's brazen remark and doubles over with laughter.

It’s only after the first bottle is almost depleted, that you switch to a couple rounds of shots, with Yujin pouring one down your throat as Wonyoung makes quick work of a margarita, before you even think about getting on the dance floor. 

That’s the excuse you’ll give for these two to grind up on you without hesitation in this packed sea of bodies, hands groping every bit of you they can, cupping your crotch while you return the favor and grab their tight asses, kissing both girls without giving the least amount of care for onlookers.

And you're definitely the luckiest person in here right now.

Almost better when you're not part of the main action, having your two favorite girls get all handsy while you watch. Seeing Wonyoung take the lead is always a delight, fingers running through those silky strands of Yujin's long, jet-black hair, holding her firmly in place as she dives in for a sloppy kiss, pushing her tongue in deep for more than a few moments. 

You’re not left staring for long. Wonyoung isn’t afraid to pull you back in with a tight yank of your collar as she slips her tongue into your mouth without hesitation, the alcohol on her breath lingering.

Yujin's next to follow, biting your ear and whispering all the dirty things she wants you to do tonight, getting her tongue in the mix with Wonyoung, eager to swap saliva back and forth with either of you. 

But Wonyoung isn't content to let her give all the attention, snaking behind you to suck on the exposed skin of your neck with those full, pouty lips that devour you. Her hands wander along your body, sneaking under your shirt, traveling wherever she pleases. 

Yujin is equally relentless, licking and nibbling at your skin until she turns around to grind her hips, pushing that delicious ass on the bulge trapped by your pants. As if you needed a reminder of how turned on you are, your dick hardening with each move they make.

"Daddy's getting a little worked up, isn't he?" Wonyoung murmurs into your ear, leaning forward while the two get a handful of your crotch, and she's not wrong. Two sets of nimble fingers squeeze and stroke along the outline in your pants, so needy, so wanting, and it's almost embarrassing how quickly you've gotten hard, with little chance of hiding it in public. 

"Need another fucking drink," you growl, knowing the last thing you need is them riling you up this much in a crowded space, not that you're going to stay on the dance floor much longer. Making a beeline toward the nearest bar, the two don't stop with all the attention, clinging to your side as you toss back a double shot, hoping the burn will distract you. 

It won’t.

"There's a bathroom upstairs," Wonyoung says so quickly she almost swallows every word, clearly as needy as you are when she yanks on your wrist. "Come on. Both of you. Now."

In a blink, she's dragging both you and Yujin away, which only makes the alcohol hit harder as the anticipation builds. She shoves you both inside, shutting the door behind as quickly as possible, the lock clicking in place to let the magic begin. 

But you’re happy to let them start without you, as Wonyoung wastes no time shoving Yujin against the sink for another drunken, heated kiss, purses thrown aside on the counter. The thud of Yujin's back hits the sink hard enough for her to groan, as the younger girl grabs her by the waist to draw her body tight, narrowing the distance while she shoves her tongue between those soft, willing lips.

Watching them devour each other is almost as intoxicating as the alcohol, and you're content to stand back and enjoy the show, listening to Yujin's throaty moans and needy sighs as the two lock lips, tongues exploring with impatience. 

The two go at it, Yujin with that tight, low cut dress riding up and showing off a sliver of her perfect ass, her black lace thong doing nothing to hide. Wonyoung right beside her, squeezes every bit of ass she can get her hands on, both of them moaning into their kiss and almost completely oblivious to you, the youngest still having the lead this time.

That’s until Wonyoung beckons to get involved with a finger, calling you closer. "Don't just stand there and watch like an idiot, daddy. If you're gonna stare, at least touch, too."

Not an easy invitation to refuse as you step closer to join this scene that’s all tongue, lips and saliva. Your fingers trail up along Wonyoung's bare skin, and you can't help but kiss the curve of her shoulder, working a hand along her hip until you find one of her smooth inner thighs underneath that short dress. 

Nothing in the world can distract Wonyoung at a time like this, grabbing your hand and shoving it right against the crotch of her panties with little thought, her body grinding on your fingers. The panties soak through in what feels like seconds as she groans into Yujin's lips from how you start to toy with her cunt, just grazing against it with each stroke, the wet fabric coating your fingertips with ease. 

"Poor daddy must be so hard," Yujin coos, getting close enough for her perfume to linger as her hands wrap around the back of your head. Like she doesn’t know that already when giving your hair a gentle tug,and crashes her lips into yours, tongue forcing its way in.

And while she claims your lips, Wonyoung helps ease the stress on your dick, creating friction from outside of your pants.

Now you’ve got Yujin’s taste in your mouth, and this needy girl on her knees as she takes care of unfastening everything holding your cock hostage in these tight pants. Her long fingers pull at your belt buckle, quickly shoving your pants down to the bathroom floor, until your clothed cock meets her hungry gaze. With a lick of her lips, she runs her hand along every inch, a grin appearing as she gives a firm squeeze through the fabric that causes a muffled groan. 

"Mm, must need this cock sucked so bad," Wonyoung says, digging fingertips into your boxers long enough to tear them off with a forceful tug. And the moment your cock is freed, she gives the attention you so badly crave, a tight grip around the base while her lips plant the first of many wet kisses.

“Good thing you're already on your knees then, slut," Yujin adds, chuckling before Wonyoung steals another taste, tongue flicking against your leaking slit as she pumps slow and steady. “Sucking off daddy is what our little brat is best at, isn’t it?” 

You couldn’t agree more. There’s hardly any music to distract you through the bathroom walls, bass reduced to a dull thump that makes it easier to drown in every little sound filling the room. Yujin bites on your bottom lip, bringing you into another wet, sloppy kiss, the taste of liquor so prominent on her tongue. And during that kiss, you groan into her mouth when Wonyoung wraps her full lips around your cock, slurping it down with little difficulty. 

“This is why we keep her around,” Yujin giggles while she wraps her arms around you, tracing her tongue up your neck. Wonyoung responds by sliding her lips farther down along the length of your dick, still stroking, leaving you unable to do much else but groan as you're engulfed in that hot, velvety mouth.

"Mmmph," and that’s all you can really hear as she swallows you down, warm mouth so sloppy, cheeks hollowed, head bobbing like there was never any other option but to take your entire length. 

Yujin’s right there, a distraction as much as encouragement, whispering whatever filthy things she can think of, whatever it takes to keep you rock hard while Wonyoung works her magic. It’s hypnotic, the way Wonyoung bobs her head, getting so deep with ease, the wet heat of her throat as she takes these deep, hungry strokes that echo as her lips move to the base of your cock, a combined effort all doing their best to unravel you. 

“Fuck, princess—“ 

And that’s all you can really do as she bobs her head so desperately between your legs, almost seeking approval. 

“Must feel so good, daddy. Our greedy little cocksucker loves it,” Yujin says, smirking as she dives back into another liplock, all lips and tongue and the occasional nibble of your neck. “Spit on that fucking cock, princess. Show us what a messy little whore you’ll always be.” 

It's almost a miracle Yujin even gets out the entire sentence with how much Wonyoung is moaning on your cock.

Whatever thoughts Wonyoung had prior vanish on the spot—unable to resist those kinds of commands. Not a lick of hesitation as she spits on your slick shaft, rubbing it in while you two watch, and she does it again and again, so damn eager to get her warm saliva dripping all over you.

You're more than thankful for the extra attention, because now Wonyoung takes the chance to pin your hips against the bathroom counter, getting nice and deep with the entirety of your dick shoved into her mouth. 

“God—that bratty fucking mouth feels so good,” you manage when Yujin lets you come up for air, lips licking up your neck once more. 

“Only thing she’s good for, right, daddy? A warm, wet hole for daddy to breed and that mouth getting us off. That’s what you’re best at, princess.” 

And it sounds so demeaning out of Yujin’s mouth, but Wonyoung couldn’t agree more, pressing her nose into your abdomen every time she bottoms out, a hand fondling your balls as she does so like she needs to prove a point. 

"Look at her go, daddy,” Yujin says right in your ear, taking a moment to enjoy the show. “Our little deepthroat queen, hungry as ever. On her knees, in a public bathroom. Right at home, isn’t she? Just needs to choke on it."

Wonyoung hums an affirmative moan, as if to agree, saliva hung down her chin while she pulls back slowly, a loud pop when you exit her mouth. And then she’s pumping so frantically, kissing your wet cock, tongue lashing up and down the length. 

"Nobody gives a blowjob like me, huh, daddy? Nice and sloppy, making a mess all over this big cock—“

Yujin only laughs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, princess.”

“But it’s true, daddy tells me that all the time,” Wonyoung says with so much pride in her voice, but Yujin’s too busy playing with your earlobe between her lips to even care. 

She’s not wrong of course, but you can’t admit it—at least not out loud. Wonyoung’s ego is inflated enough. 

But she does have the oral expertise covered, able to drain a load from your balls down her throat in seconds, if needed. And of course, Yujin is also deadly with that mouth, regardless of who’s the lucky recipient. Equal or surpassing Wonyoung on any given day, a master at everything else. Able to get either of you off in a matter of moments, usually first thing in the morning when there’s not much time before class. A quick bounce on your cock or sliding you between those deliciously thick thighs, and you’re gone—ready to start the day with a hot shower and a smile on your face. 

Wonyoung is back on your cock in an instant, so pretty on her knees, lips sealed tight, and moving faster than you can comprehend. She’s the definition of messy, eyes wide, slobbering on every inch, head bobbing, lost in her own world and loving every sound that you make. Not shy in her movements one bit, those lips move down to the base, just dying to please as the entirety of your cock stays shoved into her throat. 

Spit drips off her chin in this greedy attempt to swallow every bit of you, gorgeous doe eyes staring up as she hungrily chokes you down. There’s a pause every now and again to drag her tongue along the tip, flicking so rapidly while your cock throbs desperately in her grip. 

Your head falls back in pleasure, Yujin taking the opportunity to angle your face and shove her tongue in your mouth.

"Can't believe she used to be bad at this," she notes before your mouth is claimed in yet another sloppy kiss. "Now she sucks dick like a fucking porn star."

Wonyoung steals another glance as she pulls her lips away slowly, diving right back for several more strokes that confirm every word from Yujin’s lips. Her enthusiasm can't be matched, her fingers a little too eager, so much saliva dripping off her lips.

"I'm still better at taking it in the ass though," Yujin giggles as she nibbles along your neck and pecks along your cheek.

With each stroke and lick of Wonyoung's warm, slobbering mouth, you find yourself giving in to those obscene moans, unable to contain yourself, a relentless pace to push you closer to your limit. "That bratty fucking mouth really can't get enough, hm, princess?"

There’s no response, not that you need one when those full, luscious lips are heaven—wet and tight, so willing to please, choking down every inch so easily. And that tongue knows how to drive you wild, playing against the underside of your cock, flicking around to hit every last bit of sensitivity. 

No one can deny the results either, leaving a mess of saliva behind, your cock glistening—a blowjob a porn star would be jealous of is about as good as it gets. 

"Pretty thing is making such a mess," Yujin adds. "Got her sloppy fucking mouth drooling all over. Look at her, so hungry, choking on it, sucking down daddy's fat cock like she needs it to breathe."

“Brat makes me feel so good with this sloppy fucking mouth,” you groan, and can hardly speak the words out loud as they try to form, Wonyoung not giving the slightest sign of stopping as she delivers those unforgiving slurps. 

"Won't it feel even better if you fuck her pretty face, daddy?" Yujin's voice is dripping with this wickedness, the lust getting the better of her when she keeps her lips right at your ear, hot breath right up against. "Make her really choke on it, get that throat wrecked, see how far you can really cram it down there, yeah?"

Wonyoung pops you from her mouth with a wet gasp, ready to catch her breath for just a second as she goes back in without a word. 

“That what you want, princess? For me to use that bratty little mouth and make you a real fucking mess?” It's a rhetorical question, given how eagerly Wonyoung nods. The answer is already known, without a single word of refusal on her end.

Anything else is unacceptable. 

"Fucking whore likes that idea," Yujin adds while she hops onto the counter and spreads her legs. "Give her what she wants, daddy—shove your thick fucking cock down her throat. Ruin her, she’s begging for it. Aren’t you?” 

Wonyoung doesn't have a moment to reply. You give no warning whatsoever, too gone on shoving yourself back in that warm mouth, grabbing that silky black hair with both hands, fingers threaded tightly, holding her still as your hips take over. 

You thrust. 

Wonyoung chokes and sputters, spitting all over the base of your cock while Yujin laughs and kicks her feet in excitement, watching intently as the brat struggles.

"She can handle it, don't let up. Make her fucking gag. Wanna see that makeup all messy, fuck her throat like you do her cunt.”

That’s really all the instruction you need. Pumping your hips gets you so deep from the start, and Wonyoung doesn't have much choice but to accept every inch, that tight little throat being tested on how good it can take you. Turns out, like a fucking champ—not that anyone in the room expected anything less. 

So you don’t let up. Because why would you when Wonyoung can take whatever you give and more, inhaling every last inch stuffed down her throat, gagging so beautifully while her gaze never falters. 

And that look—her cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and teary, and she's swallowing your entire length, surrendering to your every desire, your hips driven by lust. 

Yujin couldn't be happier to see her this way, the girl who prides herself on being perfect, now looking so debauched, cheeks stained with tears, several strings of spit dripping off her chin, mascara running so beautifully. 

“Jesus, fuck,” you groan, and it’s you who needs a break from these forceful thrusts, not Wonyoung, letting the image burn into your mind—this perfect canvas being ruined. “Your throat feels so goddamn good, princess.” 

“Of course it does, idiot,” Wonyoung manages to say through all the tears, wanting you back down her throat before you can even blink again. But you’re quick to guide her back, grabbing her head and repeating this all, hips snapping forward, your cock shoving as deep as it’ll go into her mouth. 

She’s completely at your mercy and wouldn’t have it any other way. “Arms behind your back, princess. Let daddy do the work, let him fuck that throat the way I know you love," Yujin demands as your cock makes its way back between those swollen, soft lips, hitting the back of her throat over and over. 

Tear-struck, mascara-run face and all, Wonyoung reaches back obediently and hugs her arms behind her, looking up, waiting to do nothing but take this.

“Pretty fucking toy,” you say, you can vocalize while you're fucking her throat like her watery eyes desperately beg for, every thrust picking up a little bit more speed, as her face becomes a perfect combination of saliva, tears and ruined mascara that looks so gorgeous staining that porcelain complexion. 

"Looks so fucking good, seeing this brat used like this," Yujin chimes in, eyes never looking away from Wonyoung, on her knees, taking every rough, wet slap of your hips that slam against her hungry lips. 

Your words fade into grunts and groans, as your hips thrust on repeat into her face, not slowing down for anything—

And Wonyoung has no qualms about her position, able to take the brunt of these unapologetic slams right down her throat while you palm her head and she gags so shamelessly, balls smacking her chin with each slap, tears falling free. 

“Such a good girl,” Yujin says, with this little smirk, wide and proud, Wonyoung with her mouth stuffed so full to argue otherwise. "Your pretty little toy. Keep going, fuck that face, daddy. She must be so fucking wet from all this."

She’s not the only one, either. 

There’s a familiar, slick noise that almost breaks your focus, and you know exactly what it is—Yujin, who's not shy about sitting on that counter and shoving her hand beneath her dress. She groans, quite loudly, pushing aside the lace of her thong so her fingers can pump in and out of her greedy pussy, eyes not leaving the debauchery happening below her. 

And as bad as you want to take a peek at just how wet Yujin has gotten for the show, you keep your eyes on Wonyoung—forcing her head down the base of your shaft, nose shoved against your stomach, hair tussled with no plans to release the tight grip that's driving you insane. She can't do much but stare up when her lips stay perfectly sealed, up against your balls. 

Muffled gargles escape from her mouth stuffed so full as you continue this relentless motion and spit drooling out like a faucet while you keep her firmly locked into place. 

“God, princess—these lips, this tight fucking throat, feels too fucking good," you groan, throbbing deep in her mouth. 

Wonyoung struggles to catch her breath as you pull away, saliva staining that little black dress of hers, more strings still attached to her mouth and chin. "Hey—wasn't finished with that cock yet," she protests, reluctant to leave her pillowy lips from your length. 

“But daddy must be ready to burst, can tell from those fucking groans," Yujin says, her own breath a little labored from touching herself. "So you get that cum right in your stomach and we can worry about your next load of jizz later."

For Wonyoung, the disappointment fades in an instant at the prospect of getting her stomach pumped full. She licks her lips and wipes the drool from her face before kissing a trail down your shaft, lips lowering, until they latch right onto your sensitive sack, wet tongue running over every bit. 

"This should help empty these heavy fucking balls," Wonyoung murmurs between those loud suckling sounds, humming so contently. Her lips suck and slurp with hunger, lost in the taste, looking up innocently with her smudged makeup and hair a complete mess, hot breath lingering on every bit.

"F-fuck, that fucking mouth, keep going—" You almost lose the ability to speak when her hand grips you firmly, mouth so ravenous on your balls. All of the warm, wet slobber that's been collecting on your shaft makes this so easy, her hand gliding up and down the length while you groan louder.

The strokes only get faster, these sinful slurps much louder, so lewd, so filthy, while your fist takes over, balls ready to be emptied while the pressure builds with every passing second. 

“Daddy’s gonna blow his fucking load,” Yujin says with so much excitement, watching this all unfold. But all you can focus on is Wonyoung, the heat of her mouth, swallowing each of your balls in sequence while your cock aches with these furious strokes. 

"Don't fucking stop, I'm so damn close," you moan out, feeling it all building to a point of no return. So close—right there, her mouth playing on each side of your heavy balls, knowing exactly what will send you over the edge.

"Open that bratty mouth," Yujin commands from the side, rubbing her clit all the while. Wonyoung responds exactly as ordered, leaning back, her tongue hanging out and ready for you to dump your load into her greedy mouth. And that's exactly where you aim, cock right between those pouty lips, resting the head along her warm, waiting tongue as the last couple few strokes finish the job. 

You unload right in her open mouth, and she moans at the first shot that lands on her outstretched tongue, the next thick spurts reaching into the back of her throat. A series of groans follows, as you pump out all you have to give into her mouth, some hitting her lips, the rest pooling onto her tongue. 

It’s euphoric, the intense spurts that leave your cock, and Wonyoung keeps her tongue out obediently, every hot, creamy spurt landing where it belongs, waiting until you've fired the very last of it. 

"Swallow it all, princess," Yujin orders, as if she ever needs to encourage anything of the sort. But that's exactly what Wonyoung does, making this sweet little moan when her head tilts back, and you watch your cum go straight down her throat, tongue swiping across to clean any trace. "That’s our good fucking girl." 

Wonyoung glares daggers right at Yujin for those words, knowing exactly how she feels about them. "Sh-shut up, I'm not—"

"Good? Yeah, we know. Princess gets her face destroyed in a bathroom and daddy's fucking cum right down her throat. Little slut is anything but good."

And that's the praise that Wonyoung prefers, what she craves, tongue out to show you the emptiness, swallowed all down before she gets her lips right back on your cock to make sure she’s got the last of it, every bit. When you can’t take anymore of this insane suction, you push her head off your oversensitive shaft with a groan, trying to catch your breath, hoping there’s no going back for more. 

"You're a fucking mess," is all you say and both Wonyoung and Yujin chuckle, so amused at that obvious observation. 

"Because I was choking on your dumb fucking cock. Not my fault daddy likes to be so rough," she says so proudly, trying to pin her insatiable desires on you. Even through all the ruined mascara, smeared lipstick and smudged eyeliner, there's still this innocence that drips from her lips when they smile.

"Pretty sure that's exactly your fault, princess," Yujin says as she helps Wonyoung to her feet, grabbing a tissue to help clean up her face a bit. Not that there's much she can do to fix such a disheveled appearance in a short time. 

"Ugh, whatever, let's get out of here. This place was nice enough and all, but I wanna get railed somewhere we're less likely to get interrupted," Wonyoung says, as she takes a quick glimpse in the mirror, admiring the work you've done. "Maybe somewhere with a little less fucking noise."

"And you called me the old one," you reply, earning the standard eye roll and huff from Wonyoung. 

"Because you are old, dummy. This music is fucking horrendous, and my feet hurt," she complains, struggling to stand upright as she leans over the counter. 

"God, you really are such a brat. Next, you're gonna want me to carry you out of here." 

"Well—if you're offering, daddy."

"I'm not."

Yujin is all giggles again, leaning over to kiss your lips. It's a tender, soft kiss, a nice juxtaposition to everything that's gone on in this room. 

"I choke on your cock, swallow every drop, and I can't even get carried outside? What's the fucking point then?" Wonyoung whines, a pout forming that does its best to change your mind. 

"Could you be more spoiled?" Yujin asks, stealing your words as if Wonyoung is the only brat in the room.

"Whatever," Wonyoung growls, reaching for her purse and storming out of the bathroom with an exaggerated stomp of her feet. "Daddy better give me a foot massage when we get back then."

You take a moment to look at Yujin as she jumps down from the counter and does a quick glance in the mirror, fixing her hair. Pants zipped back up, you have a final look around to survey the damage done before following these two out the door. "Let's go, daddy. I think our princess might explode if she has to wait much longer."

With another sigh, you make your exit, no concern for anyone who sees the three of you coming out at the same time, heading back out the club as fast as possible.

"Fucking hate clubs," Wonyoung mutters the moment the cold breeze hits, adjusting the neckline on her dress as the taxi pulls up. 

"Get in then, you fucking brat, before you freeze to death."

All you can do is laugh with Yujin as the door shuts and your bodies squish into the backseat. 

✦ ✦

The three of you are more than a little tipsy by the time you finally get back, making it back to your penthouse apartment where the quiet is so very welcome. Once inside, the one very obvious thing you all notice when the three of you step in is how goddamn dark the entire place is. 

The blinds are closed, lights all off, not a hint of moonlight coming in. You glance around in confusion as all three of you come to the same realization—Wonyoung flicking a nearby light switch and having no luck. And again—nothing.

"Power's out." 

Yujin states the obvious, the more sober one at the moment. Wonyoung immediately sighs deeply, like it's the biggest inconvenience of her life as she rummages through her purse in search of her phone. 

"Yeah, no shit. I see that." 

Using her phone as a flashlight, Wonyoung walks further into the entrance and discards her high heels like trash at the doorway, as Yujin drops off her bag and tosses her coat off. 

"I'll check the break—"

"Don't you touch a damn thing," Wonyoung interrupts, grabbing at your shirt and practically yanking you off balance. "Not until you give me my foot massage. My feet are fucking killing me."

Somehow, you've been roped into this, and you barely have time to take off your coat before she's pulling you onto this huge sectional sofa where you take a seat. In the meantime, Yujin is over by the fireplace, getting it set up, lighting up the whole living space in no time. Now Wonyoung takes a seat on the sofa and throws her legs on your lap in a blink, like she's some kind of royalty expecting service, pointing at her bare feet in desperate need of attention.

"You know, you don't always have to wear heels all the time," you say as Yujin laughs from afar, setting up the last touches on the fireplace as she sits on the opposite side of Wonyoung. And that look you get in return—sends a bigger chill than the lack of heat in the apartment. 

"Daddy, why would I not wear them? These long, sexy legs without heels? A fucking waste,’” Wonyoung says, knowing she'll get what she wants regardless, wiggling her toes so you get the message loud and clear. 

She lifts the heel of one foot, raising it higher so there’s no ignoring it. You sigh as you get your hands on her, giving in and pressing your thumbs deep into her sole, massaging slow circles into the soft, sore skin. Just when you begin, her head drops back, letting out a satisfied, exhausted little moan like she's just run a marathon in those stilettos. 

"Comfortable, princess?" Yujin asks sarcastically from the other end, legs crossed as she watches in amusement.

"Very," she answers. "That's amazing, god. Daddy always takes care of his princess, doesn't he?" 

Utterly ridiculous. For better or worse, that answer is always yes, because you’re weak—and that’s putting it lightly, how she has a way of convincing you to do anything she asks. Whatever it is. The princess always gets what she wants.

"This isn't a spa, you know. You're not getting a full treatment," you warn, but it does little to discourage as Wonyoung just smiles, closing her eyes while your thumbs dig in, kneading every tired inch of her arches. 

"Shh, let me relax. Less talking, more rubbing my feet. That's all you need to be doing," Wonyoung says as you pick up the pressure, this spoiled brat looking so happy getting her feet pampered.

As ridiculous as it is, there's something comforting in taking care of Wonyoung. You love watching how her eyes flutter shut as she lets out this satisfied groan, savoring every touch. Her delicate feet are so soft, and so well kept, her nails painted with a fresh coat of polish, a deep red matching the color on her lips. Honestly, there are worse things you could be doing. 

"Don't act like you don't love spoiling me. So does Yujinnie. Both of you just love to take care of me like this."

"Speak for yourself, brat," Yujin fires back, but can't even do so without a smile on her face that tells otherwise. 

All you can do is give her a weak glare in response and go back to giving her that touch she craves. You spend extra attention on the bottom of her foot before switching sides, firmly massaging every part of her heel, her high arches, then digging your thumbs into the ball to work out all the tension. 

At this point, the room has more than warmed up, a roaring fire that feels so nice and cozy as the crackle fills the room. Your focus stays on Wonyoung—who looks oh so good in this light, stretched out on the sofa, legs in your lap and melting at your touch. 

"Princess shuts up so quickly when she's pampered and relaxed,” you say, trailing the pads of your thumb along the curve of each foot, taking in how soft, pale, and perfectly pedicured her feet are.

“Why do you think she acts like such a brat? Because we both give in and spoil her," Yujin muses, with this smirk that you can barely catch while you continue with this massage. "Especially you." 

You'd be a little hurt if it wasn't so goddamn true. Even right now, as the three of you sit on the huge sofa, Wonyoung has you under her complete control. She has the real upper hand in this relationship, despite what it might look like from the outside. Yujin might not cater to her the same way, but the truth is she's as bad as you are—but you'll never pry that out of her. 

But not even that can break the trance she's fallen under from this foot massage, these content sighs while her head remains against the pillow, almost drifting off. The noises alone are better to gauge her reaction, these cute little hums while you dig into a particularly sore spot, making your way to those long toes, tugging them gently, twisting back and forth.

"Does daddy like my painted toes? I did them just for you," Wonyoung murmurs out of the blue, just now glancing up, eyes narrowed and relaxed. You don't say a word and admire the color, how the dark polish contrasts with her milky skin. Those toes curl from the stimulation, a clear sign you're hitting all the right spots. "Answer me, daddy. Don’t you love them? Love kissing my feet and worshiping them?"

"Brat," you mutter under your breath, knowing she'll never drop it. "Do you want me to stop rubbing your feet? Because it sounds like it."

She ignores your threat completely, pressing a foot directly in front of your face with her toes spreading, wiggling around to give you this taunting challenge. "You could never stop, I know. Too addicted to my pretty feet. Now kiss them. They need it, after all the walking around tonight. Kisses. Lots of them."

God, she's really pushing it. Yujin is stifling a laugh at your expense from all this and doesn't even do a single thing to assist, about ready to burst with laughter while Wonyoung's commanding instructions. But you can't deny any of it, in no position to go back on all the devotion you've shown. 

"Well, I'm gonna go check on the power," Yujin finally says, escaping while she can, taking her cue to leave the two of you alone.

And so here you remain alone with this stubborn little brat, getting her wish when you plant a few, chaste kisses on her freshly pedicured feet. And her expression changes immediately, a clear satisfaction written across her face. She makes it so hard to resist the temptation to pamper, guiding her other foot to your mouth to press your lips against that delicate arch, planting kisses on the sole of her foot.

"Much better," she comments, stretching her legs out and using you as her personal footstool. "My cute little masseur, kissing my pretty feet."

You know she's loving it, not even able to hide any moans for a second, content that she doesn't even have to dictate your actions anymore, just lying back and letting you worship her like a goddess. Her toes wiggle and spread apart as you kiss each one, taking a moment to give each equal attention,

"Keep going, daddy, they still feel so sore. Need more kisses to make them all better."

99% sure that isn't the case. In fact, she doesn't look in need of anything else but attention, with her hair falling perfectly, messy strands framing her doll-like face. Wonyoung gives you a smug little smile while her feet angle upward, perfectly positioned for you to plant wet, slow pecks right on her soles, and you're not about to admit she has you so wrapped around her finger, despite evidence to the contrary.

This would be ridiculous to anyone looking in, but the reality is you can hardly tell who is more spoiled here. And so here you sit with Wonyoung's long legs dangling, sitting lazily in your lap. Your lips on her soles, moving up her feet, languid and careful, kisses pressed on each inch.

"Perfect," Wonyoung exhales, those soft sighs gradually picking up as you pay close attention to her delicate arches, still massaging all the while with your hands. You can't exactly resist those gorgeous feet, and the kisses never cease, showing no indication of pulling away from your wandering mouth.

That is, until you hear the hum of electricity around you, the whole living space of this apartment coming back to life. Although there's no Yujin in sight when it happens, and no lights in the living room—which you're pretty sure are both related. 

No complaints here, as you don't mind keeping Wonyoung in the dark and lit up by just the fireplace, turning this into something much more romantic.

With a final few presses of your lips, Wonyoung wonders why you're slowing down on the attention to her feet, already shifting to reposition herself upright in a bit of a pout. You don't say anything, just guiding her foot back to your lips with your focus elsewhere, on a massive rug sitting in front of the fireplace that somehow, has never been put to good use.

"Up," you command, and Wonyoung follows your line of sight, curious but not protesting with the attention you've already lavished on her. She stands to her bare feet with a tiny wobble from the lingering alcohol.

"Dress, off."

"Not even a please?"

You sigh. "Dress off, pretty please," you try again, earning a rather calm tilt of her head. Wonyoung complies in seconds and works on the zipper, lowering the straps down her shoulders. And in no time flat the whole thing is draped at her feet, standing there in just her bra and panties, this pretty set that's pink and silky with cute little bows. "The rest too, now."

Every word that slips off your tongue you expect her to resist in some way, but she doesn't even flinch, unhooking her bra next. Her breasts fall free, the perfect size for her slender frame—just right, perky and delicious, nipples pink and utterly appetizing. 

Then her thumbs loop into the hem of her underwear, and that comes off, all at once. With a lift of her long, slender legs she's tossing them off, standing naked and practically glowing in the light of the fireplace.

"Is there a reason I'm naked and daddy isn't?" 

Your eyes soak her in, and the question hardly registers. Wonyoung, to her credit, has not one shy bone in her body. Her expensive little outfit that sits in a pile on the hardwood floor, nothing left covering that porcelain skin, standing so proud, so bare, so confident. 

Fuck, what a sight—luscious legs that go on for miles, tight stomach that's as toned as can be, curves to die for, a little more meat on her thighs and ass than usual, her wide hips perfectly accentuated. You never tire of staring. Not one single fucking inch goes unnoticed, especially where you draw attention to most, her clean-shaven, tight little pussy that makes your mouth water.

"I'll get to it. Just get on that rug first," you insist, sending her eyes on an inspection of this fancy rug that's been neglected. White and round and enormous, her toes sink in when she steps onto its surface, soft to the touch. It's so cozy on her bare feet, and the fire keeps her naked skin warm. 

"On my knees?" she asks with a glance back, a step further in the middle of this fluffy rug.

"No, not this time. On your back. Get nice and comfortable, princess." 

That's all you say as she lowers herself to the rug, getting on her back and laying against the plush material, sinking into this comfortable surface that feels amazing against her naked body. Her thighs spread wide almost on instinct, so invitingly open for you, arms resting on her elbows. 

You take the time to follow in suit, slowly undressing as you watch her get herself set. Her eyes narrow as she waits patiently, watching closely the more bare skin reveals with every bit of clothing tossed aside, a pile of clothes not unlike hers. Until you're fully naked yourself, staring once more at the outline of her naked body illuminated in the light that the fireplace gives. So goddamn beautiful. How could someone not spoil her when she's such a work of art?

Yujin was right—you do spoil her too much, but who gives a shit? Not you, not ever.

Your feet touch the edge of the soft, white fabric as your body lingers between her spread thighs. Now you're the one getting on your knees before settling on your stomach, right between her long, beautiful legs as you kiss along the soft flesh, gradually working higher, up the inside of her creamy thighs.

"So pretty, princess," you mutter under your breath, soft kisses at her smooth thighs that make her quiver a bit. "So, so pretty. Love your body, these long fucking legs... and this pretty little cunt. Love everything about you." 

You don't know whether it's the alcohol, or how good Wonyoung looks naked, covered in darkness with only the fireplace for illumination, but you just want to lavish her in praise as you mark up her thighs. Each one is met with a kiss, a slow press of your lips to that creamy skin, while you get so close to where you need to be. 

"Mm, daddy. All this is yours, you know," she says, breathing a little heavy. And you kiss up her beautiful skin as your mouth inches even nearer, hearing a faint gasp, knowing what's about to happen. You can't help but oblige, can't seem to control yourself when she's so slick and wet already. 

Wonyoung is beyond stunning, flat on her back on that rug that cost a small fortune, every inch of her skin exposed to your hungry gaze. The view itself is enough for you to savor, watching her chest rise and fall, her long legs parted like an invitation. That's all the teasing you can handle. 

So without a word, you lower yourself between her spread thighs, hearing the anticipation in her shaky breaths, her head leaning back when she senses how close you are, closing her eyes.

And she cries out so desperately once you make contact with your tongue flat, dragging slowly between the delicate, wet folds of her delicious little cunt. Addictive is the only way to describe this sweet, familiar taste as you shove your tongue deep inside her, so dripping and delicious, glistening from the arousal that you gather from each lick. 

"Oh god—"

Wonyoung can't hold a moan for even a moment. She tastes so fucking good, all this nectar dripping from the source as your mouth laps it all up, these noises that escape her mouth with each flick of your tongue, just begging to be devoured.

You don't even hesitate to give her everything she needs, latching your lips onto that sensitive clit and suckling with all your strength, mouth working hungrily as her fingers tangle into your hair.

"D-daddy—don't stop," Wonyoung moans, gasping, both her hands around the back of your skull, pressing you into that velvety flesh to keep your face buried. It isn't that hard to follow directions and stay where she wants, and you fucking love the way she pulls at your scalp, trying to grind into your mouth.

You feed that addiction, and with every frantic flick of your tongue into the slippery, hot depths of her pussy, you keep this feast going. These slurps and whimpers fight for supremacy, leaving her so overwhelmed. Fuck—her scent, that taste, and these desperate whimpers drive you insane, the perfect combination. The moans continue while you eat her out like you're starved, absolutely consumed with pleasuring her.

There’s nothing better than this. 

"Sh-shit, just like that, you're so f-fucking good, daddy," Wonyoung breathes out, melting on the rug as the grip in your hair only gets tighter, relentless. Her thighs hold you in place, firmly clamping onto the sides of your head to ensure you're not going anywhere anytime soon. Not that you would ever—not when this taste is on your tongue, so intoxicating, her juices an endless stream in your mouth.

"You taste so goddamn good—so wet, fuck," you murmur into her wet cunt, lips all coated as your tongue parts her soaked folds with rapid swipes, taking another series of harsh slurps, lapping it all up. "Can't get enough of you, princess."

This is where you make the most of spoiling Wonyoung, not that she hasn't been getting enough of that tonight. But eating her out like this—diving in, slurping away, there's just nothing like hearing the way she falls apart, squirming beneath your hungry mouth.

"Please, m-more," she whines, eyes screwed shut while your tongue shows no mercy on her drooling little cunt. You shoot a glance up every now and then from between her legs to drink in her reactions, nothing more beautiful than the bliss etched on her face, mouth hanging open, thighs squeezing so tight around your head. 

“Fuck, princess—” Barely able to breathe anything but her scent—it's exactly where you need to be, head between her legs, her taste lingering, devouring this pretty girl like nothing else matters.

"D-don't fucking stop," Wonyoung gasps, which isn't ever a plan when she tastes this good, her grip on your hair borderline painful as she tries to ride your face, struggling to form words. "Don't stop, god—please, daddy, please don't—"

That's the best encouragement you can get. Your lips get so greedy, so messy in the process, dragging from the sensitive bud of her clit all the way back down, sinking deep into her deliciously wet pussy with no restraint, lapping up and swallowing every drop.

"Oh g-god, daddy!"

She cries out so loudly you can feel it echoing through the large apartment, arching her back while she writhes against the surface of the rug, rocking her hips into your tongue. All it takes is a couple more ravenous licks until those thighs tense, refusing to let go, toes curling right at the moment of release. 

That's when Wonyoung moans the loudest, hands clutching at your head to hold you right there while she makes a mess all over your mouth, hips bucking, body trembling with a sudden surge as you work through every violent spasm. God, she looks gorgeous while you help her through this bliss, with lips sealed around her clit, suckling just the right way. She holds you in place, grinding on your tongue, riding it out while your tongue gathers it all up, all this arousal that won't go to waste.

"Shit, I'm—fuck, oh god," she continues to moan, breaths so erratic, and you don't stop lapping at this mess until she can't take any more stimulation. You look up, still slurping away on her clit, her entire body still twitching while her grip in your hair loosens, and only then do you ease up—giving as many more licks as possible, getting your fill until she forces your head away. 

"F-fuck, daddy's so good, made me cum so hard," she says after a breath, shaking through the last of this pleasure. And you're not done with her, cleaning up her soaked thighs, licks and kisses along every bit of flushed skin when your mouth finally stops devouring her dripping little cunt. "Felt so fucking good, love making a mess on your face like this..."

The feeling is more than mutual, and that's exactly what you've done, left her breathless, in a heap of exhaustion, her juices sliding down your chin, smeared everywhere. "Nothing better than having your tasty little cunt all over my lips." 

"D-daddy's too addicted, god," she gasps again, just as your tongue swipes back against her overstimulated clit, causing her entire body to jolt. "So s-sensitive, fuck, so—"

Another flick and she's a trembling mess again, and you have to fight the urge to bury your tongue right back in. You could do this for hours if given the chance. But the throbbing ache in your cock distracts—getting impatient while you rise, using every ounce of willpower to keep your mouth away.

"Looks like daddy needs to be taken care of too," Wonyoung says, observing how hard your cock has grown as you lift your body upright, knees right on this luxurious rug. "Come here, let's fix that—get your cock nice and wet."

That's the kind of offer you just can't pass up. Not when you have this girl's messy, delicious cunt eager for you to slide into. You get right into position, stroking your cock from base to tip while you stare right at her perfect little pussy, all parted and exposed, ready to be filled up. 

Neither of you can fight the shared desperation as you run your swollen cockhead along the wet flesh of her pussy, not pushing into her tightness quite yet, just taking it slow, tracing it along those slick lips. Wonyoung lets out a whimper that’s anything but subtle from this tease, and you don't know how much longer you can take, either. Because you know once you do push in—that familiar warmth around your cock, those tight, wet walls sucking you in, you'll never be able to leave without pumping a load deep. 

"Fucking fill me up, I want it," Wonyoung pleads, taking the decision off your hands. And god, that's all you need to hear as you shove yourself right inside that tight little cunt, parting her drenched folds to bury every inch at once, bottoming out with ease. "Oh g-god yes, make me cum again, fuck."

Wonyoung is every bit as tight, just as perfect and wet as the first time, and you can't even handle pulling back out, needing a moment just to savor this sensation before moving a single inch. "Feels so good, your tight little cunt—"

You cut yourself off with a groan, pulling out so agonizingly slow, but almost on instinct you give a deep, rough thrust, burying deep into this heat that's so incredibly addictive. One, and then a few more, both of you taking the time to enjoy the way your cock stretches her open, the wetness, how easy you glide through, the perfect warmth of her cunt begging for more.

"This feels too good, princess," you breathe out, almost not sure you can take the way she tightens around you, how all the wetness drenches your cock. And really, you're the one being spoiled now, pulling out and slamming back in with these full thrusts, savoring every inch of this girl you're addicted to—

It’s unfathomable how good her pussy feels, those moans, her slick walls clinging to your length. "Wet little cunt squeezing me like that. Can't just wait to milk the fucking life out of my cock, can you?"

A moan answers before she gets a chance to, and you really pick up the momentum, hips a little rougher, a little faster, your body unable to resist the temptation, letting lust overtake everything else. There's no holding back when you're buried so deep into her pussy, tossing a leg over your shoulder while you grip her thigh for leverage, getting that much deeper.

"Never can wait for daddy to finish inside my tight pussy," Wonyoung groans, such a perfect mess lying flat on her back, her breasts hypnotically bouncing every time your bodies collide. All this heat you're buried in, the wet sensations of her cunt taking you so eagerly, it makes it impossible to show any sort of restraint. "I love it when you're inside me, so big and stretching me out—more, daddy, need your cum. Don't stop." 

With a leg perched high on your shoulder, that's an easy request to fulfill, the tightness you plunge through demanding nothing else. Just fucking your cock into her, staring at her flawless face that contorts in pleasure, her pink pussy lips swallowing you whole. An addiction to your own demise and you know it. "God—so tight. Your perfect cunt always drives me fucking wild,"

"I know it does, daddy. You can't help yourself, can't help shoving this fat cock deep, filling me up with every inch of you, breeding me over and over. Fill me, fuck—"

Your eyes drift to hers, a stare that's so overwhelming, and she knows she has you right where she wants you—your hips might be the one pumping into this soaked warmth, but Wonyoung is clearly the one taking you apart with her little moans.

So fucking pretty, when she takes you like this, so easy to bury your shaft in her cunt, lost in all that velvety tightness. The moans pick up as you slam into her, driving yourself back in again and again as each thrust pulls more cries from her parted lips, little gasps and whimpers pouring out, chants for you to not stop. 

"Need daddy so deep in me, need that cock right up my guts," she says in such a demanding tone, eyes needy and wide, and there’s no possible denial when your cock is drowning in her juices. "You love pounding my pussy—being balls deep in me, isn't that what you need? What daddy needs to pump me full of that hot cum?" 

And there isn't anything you can say to deny that claim. 

The last bit of self control you possess is drained from hearing that—all it takes is a quick adjustment, lifting her other leg into a similar position, until they're both hoisted in the air, feet dangling, granting you unmatched depth. This angle works wonders on the both of you, giving you unfettered access to her cunt, spreading your legs to really slam deeper than before. 

Your thrusts start slow, taking a moment to gather yourself, knees firmly planted on this soft rug, Wonyoung’s perfect legs balancing in the air. Then you take these rapid snaps of your hips, groaning with every inch you piston in her dripping little hole, taking in the sight of her completely bare body. 

"Oh my god, that's—love you stuffing me so deep, faster, daddy!" Wonyoung gets out with more desperate, incoherent cries of approval that guide your hips as she gets all folded up and takes you, every thrust jolting her petite body. 

You don’t hesitate and do just that, sliding almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force pushes Wonyoung further into the rug, legs almost to her chest, with each slam of your cock causing this lewd, slick noise when you fuck your cock into these slippery depths. 

"Please don't stop," she practically sobs as the next series of deep thrusts go on and on, rough and urgent, nothing gentle about the way your cock plunges straight in. “S-so deep—fuck, feels too good. Don't ever stop fucking me, wreck my pussy, please, unload everything into my womb.” 

Your response is only to drill her harder, impossibly deep, that wet heat just pulling you in and not letting go. Her greedy pussy beckons you to bury yourself to the hilt with each slap of flesh, while your heavy balls bounce against her bare ass.

"My god, princess, your fucking cunt—“ It's damn near impossible to slow your pace now, not with how your cock impales Wonyoung’s tight pussy as she just takes every vicious stroke, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

All you can manage is another groan before trailing off, hips pistoning so frantically, and before you know it—she's already cumming on your cock, feet shaking in the air as the second orgasm rocks her body. And it's followed by another, the sensations too intense to bear, so overwhelmed by your relentless thrusts, toes curling while you keep drilling into her clenching little hole.

By this point, your bodies are covered in sweat, and not because of the warmth of the fireplace. 

Your hips spiral out of control, and you try so fucking hard not to let this end yet, but there's no holding out. Not when you look down and take in this view, seeing Wonyoung taking your cock like her pussy was made for you, tears rolling down her cheeks from how she can't stop gushing all over you, one orgasm melting into the next. 

Those long legs of hers are shaking so hard as you pound her cunt without restraint, the poor rug soaked from the mess she’s making—and you know it's going to be even worse once your release joins hers.

"D-daddy—" 

You can hardly make out her voice all broken as she tries to form words to no avail, sounding more and more fucked out by the second. 

"F-fuck, gonna cum," you bite out between deep, unstoppable groans, eyes glued to her beautiful face as you ram deep into such overwhelming wetness. God, it's never felt this good, this tight, making you lose it as you drive all the way back inside with an even harsher clench surrounding your cock, a promise not to let your cock go anywhere, no chance at escaping until your balls empty. 

"Fill me up, fucking make me a mess—want it deep in my cunt, don't stop until you’ve bred me." Her words trigger this primal urge in you to give in, the lewd squelches between the two of you increasing, no stopping the inevitable.

You can’t take anymore—one last set of thrusts, a final plunge, and you bury yourself as deep as you'll go. The tight grip of her greedy cunt is what makes you unload, a hefty load emptying out from your balls. Matching the intensity in her eyes, you pump massive, hot spurts inside Wonyoung that join her arousal in a thick mess that oozes around your length, nothing left in you but to fuck it deeper inside. 

Every shot empties right where she wants it, all your seed delivered in such a deluge as her clenching walls milk it all out of you, craving it, desperate for it. So much of it floods her to the brim that her cunt swallows up. Once you finally empty that last spurt and relax into your thrusts, you can't even begin to think about doing anything but staying buried deep inside. 

"Shit, all of that is—"

“Inside me. Mm, daddy pumped me so fucking full of his cum," she finishes, panting heavily, so worn out and yet the smile on her face tells you she's nowhere near satisfied. When you lower her legs down gently, they immediately wrap around your waist, holding you hostage inside that heat, keeping your creamy load safe in her cunt.

"And it's all yours," you say, but that's all you have the energy for as you collapse forward, burying your face into her neck. Wonyoung isn't going to let you go anytime soon—those legs are not letting go even after you're totally spent, cock still throbbing inside the grip of her cunt. 

That's more than fine with you, too exhausted, too breathless. There's no complaints here. Wonyoung kisses whatever sweaty skin she can find, soft and gentle pecks as she basks in your mess, dripping everywhere and getting this rug more than a little ruined. Something you won't be sorry about tomorrow.

The fireplace is burning still, but it's nothing compared to the heat still emanating between the two of you. Her hands cradle your head and rake through the mess of hair as you remain a tangle of limbs and fluids.

"Did that feel good, daddy? Feels so hot and sticky—my pussy full of you..." she mumbles into your ear, kissing up your cheek while you stay sheathed within her warmth, not daring to slip out.

You don't have the energy to say anything coherent, not that she ever needs an actual answer.

✦ ✦

And now you’ve both made your way back on the couch after resting up a bit and a much needed shower, lights on but dimmed, fireplace flickering in front of you. Yujin is here as well, back in her pajamas and a makeup-free face, indulging in the view of the clear, starlit night sky that looks so gorgeous through the apartment’s massive double-pane windows. Wonyoung is nestled in your lap, only in her bathrobe, holding a cup of fruit that she snacks on while a bottle of wine gets passed around. 

"So, daddy," Yujin starts, sitting so close that her hand rests on your thigh, fingers squeezing as she steals kisses and giggles. "Did we have fun tonight?"

You grab the bottle from Wonyoung and chug some before turning your attention to Yujin, needing a moment to stare at that pretty face before answering. "More fun once we got home."

"Better once we left that dumb club and daddy folded me in half and made me cum like, six fucking times." 

"Only six? Daddy should have tried a little harder," Yujin teases, taking a long sip from the bottle, looking so good when she does. 

"As if it takes much effort for her."

Wonyoung groans, grabbing the bottle back and finishing what's left. “Not my fault it takes nothing to have me creaming all over his fucking cock."

Yujin chokes out a laugh at how Wonyoung is turning this around and accusing you. “Who's the one begging for this dick nonstop? And who's the one who always makes us late for class because your legs can't stay shut for five minutes?"

"Whatever," Wonyoung pouts, only proving you're right. "Can't help if I wanna be dripping your cum down my thighs for these dumb lectures. It's the only way to not be bored out of my fucking mind."

As per usual, Yujin can't stop laughing at this whole exchange, content to just sit and watch. "Just admit you're both insatiable and leave it at that."

Wonyoung just glares like she's being falsely accused, kissing you before she can form her argument. She doesn't even have to when she can just crash her lips against yours, stealing every moment to slip her tongue in and taste the lingering sweetness of wine on your breath. "Says the slut who can't leave the bed in the morning without swallowing daddy's thick load."

There's no counter to that but a grin on Yujin, not the slightest bit ashamed for all the times you wake up to her skilled mouth between your legs before you're fully awake. "Caught me. Guess all three of us are hopeless."

"Two cumsluts and daddy who can't stop emptying his load in us every chance he gets. Guess we're just stuck with each other," Wonyoung says thoughtfully as she starts peppering soft kisses along your jaw, and Yujin runs her fingers through your hair, as if there's ever been any question. 

"Couldn't ask for anything better." 

✦ ✦

The morning hits like a truck. Even the littlest bit of sun peeking through the curtains is too fucking bright, with every movement you make forcing another groan out as you grab the sheets to avoid getting up. But when you roll over, you realize Wonyoung isn't here, nor is Yujin, the bed far too empty and cold for your liking. 

So there’s really no choice but to find strength somewhere and peel yourself out of the sheets.

Every step down the stairs gets heavier, no less drowsy as your feet finally land in the kitchen and spot Wonyoung who isn't faring any better, Yujin still nowhere to be seen. She barely grumbles out a little acknowledgment when you approach, slumped over the kitchen island, resting her head in her hands. The coffee pot is already halfway gone, away from its original spot, and thankfully, a bottle of aspirin sits alongside an empty mug.

You reach for the pills, popping a couple and chugging a glass of water while Wonyoung just stares at her steaming coffee cup, blank and mindless, struggling to function. Taking a seat next to her, you lean in for a quick kiss to her cheek, brushing dark hair out of her face. A glance over finds her looking worse for wear—wearing the same clothes she went to bed in, a little white tank top and black boyshorts with a pair of Yujin's fuzzy purple socks you gave her on her last birthday. 

"H-hey," you murmur, and pour a cup of coffee with what's still left. A grumpy nod is the only reply you’re getting as you stare into that cup like a trance. 

"Never drinking that fucking much again," Wonyoung groans under her breath. And you can't help but chuckle, because that's the most absurd thing you've heard since the two of you met. Yet, you're surprised to even see her in this state, given Wonyoung and hangovers typically don't co-exist.

"Heard that before," you say, barely having the energy to sit upright as you rub your temple.

"I mean it this time. Feels like a train ran over me," she sighs, still staring ahead without even taking a sip. "That club was a fucking stupid idea."

She sounds so out of it, that it's almost adorable. So very not Wonyoung. Hair all over the place, makeup all but gone, eyes puffy and dark. It's certainly strange seeing her like this, lacking her usual spark.

"Where's Yujin?"

Wonyoung looks up briefly to answer, but even that is a little laborious. "Getting us breakfast from that café around the corner and whatever else will get me out of feeling like death. Because apparently she's perfect and doesn't get hangovers anymore."

That makes sense, but also comes as a bit of a surprise. Wonyoung, so perfectly put together and reserved at times, with Yujin more on the outgoing, spontaneous side. Rare are the moments where roles are reversed like this. 

And while you share Wonyoung's pain, there's some solace in knowing Yujin is doing far better. 

"... you've just been sitting here until she gets back?"

There's as much annoyance mixed in as there is fatigue when she makes her best attempt to shoot a glare, not quite nailing the usual impact. "Daddy—it's either sit here with coffee or spend the next two hours fucking throwing up."

It’s almost comical how there’s a little brat left in her even in this state. All you do is nod in sympathy and caress her messy, tousled hair, stroking idly.

A few moments of comfortable silence pass, until the door interrupts. At once, her face changes. The mere sound of keys fiddling is enough to grab her attention, looking at the door, and that glare fades away.

Sure enough, Yujin emerges, dressed far better than either of you can pull off in jeans and a sweater that does wonders for that gorgeous frame, a hint of makeup and perfectly styled hair, looking so refreshed. For a moment, you're even a little envious, at how not one hint of a hangover shines through those eyes. 

"My poor babies. Looks like you could use this," Yujin teases with a grin on her face, putting down brown paper bags on the kitchen island, clearly enjoying every bit of this a little too much. She pulls out a container and sets down a massive stack of pancakes, followed by two bottles of orange juice, a bowl of fruit, scrambled eggs, and everything under the sun to pick and choose from. "Yujinnie is going to take good care of you two."

When she finishes unpacking everything, already you feel back to life just by how good everything smells.

"About fucking time," Wonyoung replies rather bluntly, grabbing both a bottle of juice and aspirin, unsure which to be more grateful for at the moment. You, however, have never been happier, stabbing a piece of the pancake and shoving it in your mouth as quickly as possible, a heavy dose of sugar and carbs the cure to fix everything.

"Daddy's favorite. Eat up," Yujin adds, kissing your forehead before she leans next to Wonyoung to do the same. Despite the grumpiness, there's a faint hint of a smile that appears on her lips. Just the faintest. It's hard for that sparkle to not appear when there's whipped cream, fresh strawberry slices, and syrup layered on each delectable morsel that she shoves in her mouth.

"Th-thanks, Yujinnie—" Wonyoung barely manages, a rare expression of gratitude given her current state, voice muffled by the ravenous bites that she consumes in such quick succession. 

Yujin sinks into the spot right next to you, and waits for your next bite so she can feed it to you, cutting a piece and then putting the fork back in your mouth. Again and again, while Wonyoung devours hers on the opposite end. You don't necessarily need her to baby you, but it's sweet nonetheless. And clearly, she enjoys feeding you like this, giggling before dipping more pancake into a puddle of syrup, a generous amount for the next bite.

Bite after bite, you feel less like you've been run over and more your old self. Yujin continues, almost on autopilot as she feeds you a continuous supply of pancakes and bacon that gets washed down with plenty of juice, a quick kiss or threading fingers through your hair in between. And Wonyoung, she’s recovering nicely as she uses her fork to shovel some banana slices into her mouth after dipping them into a healthy dollop of whipped cream. 

"Feeling a little better?" And before you can answer, Yujin steals a bite the next time the fork stops, sporting a grin as it disappears past her lips.

"Getting there, thanks. Fuck, really needed this," you mutter back, not quite coherent yet, but words getting easier to forn the more food you get into your system.

"You should rest up," Yujin says, keeping her attention on you, and you’ve never been more thankful to be on the receiving end of her loving care. “Want me to go start a nice, hot shower for the two of you?" 

On any other day, that offer might be too good to pass up, an extended, lazy shower together with Wonyoung. But today? You'll be lucky to manage anything other than collapsing face-first on the first comfortable surface you find. 

Wonyoung seems to share the unspoken desire to do absolutely nothing for the time being, and can only shake her head, refusing in total. "Too much effort," she grumbles, brushing hair out of her face and adjusting the tight white tank top clinging to her skin. 

Yujin just laughs. "You two are so cute when you're this helpless."

You don't even have the energy to respond. 

And when the pancakes are all gone, your head still pounds, but less like a jackhammer and more of a dull ache you can almost tolerate. There's only one thing on your mind as soon as you stand and head for the couch, Wonyoung following shortly after. Meanwhile, Yujin disappears for a moment, returning with a pile of throw blankets, extra pillows, bottles of water and more aspirin she sets on the coffee table.

"Okay, yell if you need anything else," she says, and with a final kiss to each of your cheeks, she’s already disappearing on her way upstairs. "Love you both."

Barely able to answer, you mumble out an incoherent sound and find your way to a comfy spot on the couch, sinking into the cushions. Wonyoung joins, easily collapsed under this warm blanket with her body pressed against you without a word and her head resting on your chest. All snuggled up, it doesn't take long for your eyelids to start closing.

Sometime later, you start to stir, eyes opening just slightly as you realize a few hours must have passed. By the sight of the floor lamp dimmed, the lights in the living room and kitchen off, all signs point toward nighttime, sunlight no longer flowing through the large glass windows in the living room.

There's a weight holding you down that makes it impossible to move, and you know there’s only one culprit—it's Wonyoung, still knocked out, in no hurry to get up either. And that wouldn't be a problem. If not for all that coffee and juice from earlier. 

"Princess—gotta get up for a bit," you mumble, nudging Wonyoung in hopes it'll do the trick. 

"N-no," she groans in protest, so utterly immobile. "Sleep. Don't move. Daddy's too comfy."

"I'll be right back. Need the bathroom, won't take long."

But that doesn't do a thing. Wonyoung refuses to budge, cuddling even tighter to trap you. "Stay. You're warm. Five more minutes." Not like you have an option, with this girl clinging to you, showing zero interest in letting you free.

But five more minutes could easily turn into more—so when those are up, there's not a choice. "Fucking brat, let me out. I'll be quick, promise." You force yourself away regardless of protests, a bigger struggle than necessary. 

"You better—can't sleep well without you."

Not even a minute passes before you return, and she's already stolen every inch of the blanket, all wrapped up, legs outstretched with her fuzzy socks peeking out. You crawl back under the blanket, returning to where Wonyoung demands your warmth the most, and she instantly clings to you again, one arm draped lazily over your chest. This time, for sure, she's not letting you escape anytime soon. 

"Missed you, daddy."

"Wasn't even gone that long."

"But it felt like forever," Wonyoung mumbles, using your body as a pillow. “Now daddy can't leave, ever." 

And she goes back to sleep like nothing ever happened, snuggled into your chest with a leg thrown over you. You pat her head, and now all that’s left is to sleep until you hardly even remember what having a hangover even is. 

---

"Oh, hello, handsome.” 

That sultry, playful tone can only be one person, Yujin right by your side once you’ve awoken again. "Thought you were gonna sleep an entire week." 

There's a kiss planted on your cheek when she steps in view, and that's what sends your eyes fluttering awake—right along with her hand running a comforting path along your face. "Almost did."

Yujin smiles before you push yourself upright, eyes landing on Wonyoung's mountain of blankets, with no sign of her inside. She ruffles your hair as you try to regain your senses, already knowing what you’re about to ask. “She’s in the shower. Taking a long time though… even for her.” 

You don’t think much of it, given that Wonyoung taking long showers is about as common as the sun going down. But there’s this look on Yujin’s face like she knows something you don't. 

A mischievous smile is how that ends, with Yujin placing an arm behind you on the couch. "How was your nap? Feel better after a bit of rest?"

"Way fucking better," you sigh, finally relaxing fully upright in the couch. 

While you wait for Wonyoung's return, you grab a bottle of water sitting on the coffee table—tossing back a couple painkillers to help with any lingering discomfort. And almost on cue, you hear footsteps echoing down the stairs, growing louder. 

Standing at the top of the steps is Wonyoung in a black silk robe, the material thin but not enough to hide what's underneath, stockings hugging her slim legs as the tie of her robe sits loose.

 Her face is all dolled up, perfectly styled hair framing her flawless features, with a sheer red lipstick and dark eyeshadow to finish it off. She still looks stunning—a confident smile on her pretty face as her eyes land right on you. 

"Finally awake, I see. Took long enough," Wonyoung says with the slightest hint of annoyance, as if she wasn’t begging you not to leave before. 

Yujin is laughing right next to you as Wonyoung saunters over. "Don't act like you two hungover idiots didn't both sleep the entire day."

Wonyoung barely acknowledges Yujin, striding toward you in these black stiletto heels, like a graceful model taking every step to perfection. There's a mystery hidden under the robe, and you can't wait for it to be revealed. "Daddy kept me waiting, so I came up with a little something..."

You raise an eyebrow. "You could have woken me—"

"You think I didn't try, dummy? Thought you were dead for a while," Wonyoung says and grabs your wrist to yank you up. Before you get another word out, she's peeling you off the couch and guiding you upstairs towards whatever bedroom is her target.

A shut door and a deep kiss on your lips later, and you’re being backed up towards the bed. A playful shove comes next, then you’re scooting back on the mattress, eager to learn what's under that silk. And so begins the slow process, where she unties the belt of her robe, tantalizingly slow as she draws out each second.

The black satin falls right off her perfect body and crumples in a pile at her feet. You're left with quite the image to take in—Wonyoung looking like absolute sin in this set of black lingerie that covers so little, lace and garters and sheer stockings, the whole package, those stilettos emphasizing everything. 

The finishing touch, the image captured in the tall mirror on the door, Wonyoung’s tight little ass that fills out her lacy black underwear, your attention traveling up from head to toe, absolute perfection filling the reflection. 

"Surprise, daddy," Wonyoung says, hands resting on her hips while you marvel at her sexy little ensemble—a finger tilting your head up to her face for a kiss, right on your shocked lips.

There's no way you're not staring. 

“Fucking hell, princess.” 

Not that you even know where to stare, because there's lace everywhere—pushing up her tits, hugging her slender waist so tight, clinging to every delicious morsel of her petite figure. Those stockings alone are pure filth that you indulge yourself in, drinking in how they accentuate those endless legs, leaving you foaming at the mouth to kiss every inch of them. 

The thing about Wonyoung's brazen displays of confidence is that they're well earned. She knows what her body does, knows how good it all looks—especially when covered in lace and the sexiest fucking stockings you've seen. This tight body can make anyone drop to their knees.

"Daddy's fucking drooling," she says, amused and basking in this view of you helpless and stunned. And what can you really say—what can you really do but just stare shamelessly? 

"Because my princess looks fucking gorgeous. So goddamn beautiful, god, you're just—“ 

“I’m everything. I’m yours, and you’re mine.” 

That doesn't even feel like enough praise, but Wonyoung lights up regardless, clearly enjoying the attention as you caress one leg, fingers running over the soft, sheer fabric of her stockings. It’s hard to resist the temptation to rip them all off with your teeth. 

"I would look so good in this on my knees, sucking daddy's fat cock. Looking up while I choke on it—you can picture it, can't you?"

Without a doubt, the thought of Wonyoung's perfect, pouty lips sliding over your cock in this lingerie gets your dick throbbing hard. It's almost pathetic, how much it stirs at the smallest of things, and she barely needs to tease when you're already salivating at the idea.

"Daddy needs to bend me over the bed and rip this thong right off, doesn’t he? Shove his huge cock in me, fuck me raw, rough and hard till I cum all over it—"

And god, does she know exactly what to say. The filthy imagery fills your head as you lick your lips, a hand brushing up her thigh, slowly to that tiny strip of lace covering her gorgeous pussy. "Princess—"

"Or maybe daddy is still too tired to do all that," Wonyoung interjects before you can think, chuckling as her voice turns more wicked. "Maybe you need me to jump on that hard cock, ride it like a good little whore. Use it the way I want. Until I make you pump another load inside this perfect pussy. Doesn’t that sound nice?"

You can’t possibly be expected to form an answer when she looks like this, all wrapped up and not a thing left to the imagination. A gentle squeeze to her stocking-clad thigh is about the only thing you can do that constitutes a response. 

With the aching arousal surging between your legs as your imagination runs wild, she doesn't miss a moment to place your hands directly on her ass, letting you get a plentiful handful of the flesh in your palms.

"I want you to strip. Right now. Leave the boxers,” Wonyoung commands as she watches the lust grow stronger, not even having to look down to see you've got a massive erection that’s her job to relieve. Now it’s your turn to do as you're told, giving a brief nod while taking your shirt off, then the rest as quickly as you can while she watches every moment.

"On the bed, daddy. On your back." 

Naturally, that comes without argument or resistance. Not like there's much you can really offer, thrown for a complete loop the moment Wonyoung slipped off her robe. Just as soon as you've relaxed back against the pillows, Wonyoung climbs onto the bed, crawling towards your position, close enough so the tent in your boxers is mere inches away from her beautiful face, admiring as she nears. 

"Look at that perfect fucking cock. Looks so big in those boxers," she murmurs, palming it as she speaks, every single word getting to your throbbing shaft. "Should I put these pretty lips on your hard, aching dick? Make it nice and wet before I straddle it and show exactly what a good cocksleeve is?"

Your mouth opens, but you manage little more than a small groan in acknowledgment. It's more than difficult to think straight when she looks at you like that, with these sultry, seductive eyes that just aren't fair, stroking ever so lightly over the front of your underwear.

“Feel good, daddy? I know you want to fuck me. God, I want that so bad too—but I have a few extra things planned.” 

When you see that smirk on her face as she grips your cock, you know she hasn’t planned this alone. You don’t even know where her accomplice is right now, knowing how Yujin loves to watch as much as participate. The fact is, you'll let Wonyoung take all the credit, because you know she’s more than capable of this. 

She’s got you all riled up, on her own, with a slow squeeze around the head of your cock that’s unbearable. 

You want those beautiful, plump lips wrapped around your cock, more than anything. The image can’t leave your mind—Wonyoung between your thighs, making a mess. You’re distracted. Barely noticing as she leans over to the nightstand to slide open a drawer. 

And then she pulls out a set of pink padded leather cuffs, dangling from her fingers. "Here's the real surprise. Yujinnie was kind enough to let me use her toys... and I know daddy wants to get his greedy hands all over me. So that's why we're using these. Now, arms up.” 

You can't say this is what you were expecting, but you're not exactly protesting either.

Another attempt to form words fails, and you need a moment to hesitate—something Wonyoung doesn’t care for. She crawls over your body, kneeling over your chest as you make your eventual decision. 

“Daddy, I said arms up—“

Wonyoung repeats the demand with a surprising amount of calm and patience. And this time, you don’t think it over any more than necessary, wrists held up above your head. In a heartbeat, the soft leather straps clasp around both wrists, keeping them secured to the headboard. You'd be lying if you claimed this was totally foreign territory—but you're used to seeing Yujin with a smile on her lips putting the cuffs on you, not Wonyoung, who's become far bolder in the bedroom since.

So once you feel the leather securing your wrists to the back of the bed, Wonyoung runs her hands along them, testing them a few times just for good measure, unable to hide her satisfaction in watching you struggle. 

"There we go," she purrs. “Daddy looks so good in these…” 

She's already moving down between your legs, eager to get you naked as her fingers slide under the waistband of your underwear. a slight pause while she eyes the massive tent she's caused, thumb massaging idly. 

And with a forceful tug, your underwear is only a brief memory as Wonyoung tosses the garment aside. Her nails trace up your naked thighs, her cold hands lingering right below where you ache the most.

"What should I do first, hm? Suck your dick? Play with these heavy fucking balls? Or maybe just tease daddy’s big fucking cock through my panties—you think that'll drive you crazy?”

So many options, you're not sure how to even process anything beyond the blinding arousal as she stares with those devilish eyes at your throbbing, desperate cock leaking between her fingers.

"Maybe daddy doesn't get a choice. Maybe I just fuck you the way I want," she says, fingers squeezing your shaft, precum oozing out with no end in sight. "Keep you tied up and ride the fuck out of this huge fucking cock. Or if you're lucky—maybe I let you in my ass, since you like it so much."

That's the thing that makes you squirm with need—

Having her tight little ass sinking down on your cock, balls deep, clenching around you and milking you dry—that's a thought that refuses to budge. But while you're imagining all that, Wonyoung focuses on bringing these thoughts to life and slaps your cock hard, not afraid of the reaction as it throbs even stronger. "Daddy gets my pussy first. So I guess you’ll just have to earn my tight asshole."

You're only left staring with eyes wide open as she peels off her barely-there panties, sliding them down so agonizingly slow, revealing every delicious detail hidden underneath. And for your own benefit, her heels stay on as she spreads those long, long legs to give the full view, pussy pink and glistening wet, and oh so inviting.

"Princess—"

"No talking, daddy. That mouth is only for licking my pussy or sucking my tits. Nothing else, okay?"

There's no time to react as Wonyoung lifts the black thong to your mouth, forcing you to take in her scent while her soaked panties drag against your lips. "Can't wait to have this throbbing cock filling my tight little pussy. Doesn't that sound perfect?"

All you can offer are a couple muffled nods while she stuffs those lacy panties into your mouth. The thought alone is intoxicating, especially with how you can taste her arousal on them. She knows you're at her mercy, taking the time to slide up your body, grinding her bare cunt against you on the way down, stockings rubbing against your bare skin. 

But this isn't Wonyoung's usual play—you know she doesn't have the restraint for much else, which only works to your advantage. She’s not Yujin. She isn’t going to drag this out. The urgency in her movements tells you that she wants you buried deep inside her as much as you do, but that doesn't mean she can't savor some moments along the way.

"Daddy needs this, doesn't he? This beautiful cock buried in my pussy—squeezing you so fucking tight, like it was made just for me," Wonyoung tells you like she's teasing herself, a few rapid pumps while her hand leans it against her toned stomach, showing how deep you’ll reach inside.

You struggle for a response, not that you can say much with these soaked panties stuffed in your mouth. Wonyoung lets out this devious little smile as she grinds her slick pussy along your shaft, the warmth so abundant that it has you thrusting upwards on instinct. 

"Aw, daddy can't answer, can he? Want to fuck this tight fucking pussy? Want me to sink down, nice and deep, balls fucking deep—that's all you can think about, right?"

Again, a desperate nod is the best answer you can provide in your stupor, a cloud of desire slowly creeping over your ability to think straight. 

"Daddy doesn't even need to say—I already know you're so fucking desperate for this," she says, lifting up and rubbing that wet little cunt against the sensitive tip that throbs under the littlest touch. 

Desperate doesn't even begin to cover it, pent up from the littlest stimulation Wonyoung grants. And you couldn't even beg with these panties in your mouth even if you wanted to.

"Mmm, looks so big in my little hands—and all of it is going to stretch my pretty little pussy. Because that's what daddy's needy cock is best for, right?" This time, you can't even get out a nod, eyes glued to how she rubs you between her sopping folds, this final tease when she drags you through all that arousal. 

Then, a few lazy strokes. No friction, no satisfying stimulation to alleviate this overwhelming craving. It's infuriating.

"Wonder how deep it will reach. How deep your fat fucking cock will reach inside—splitting me wide open. Until daddy can't resist and spills his cum into this warm hole."

God, it’s exactly what you’re desperate for, those tight lips parting to fit your aching cock. Wonyoung raises her hips and guides your swollen cockhead, not patient enough to let the teasing linger. Her weight drops, and then you’re inside her—every inch she can take, so deep as you both crave.

You don't even fight back a muffled groan while her hips take over, rolling to savor the stretch, the deliciousness of being filled, a perfect straddle with a leg on either side to take you to the hilt. 

"Oh—so fucking full. I can't, f-fuck, daddy feels so fucking amazing, god—this huge fucking cock stuffed inside me where it belongs."

One slow lift of her hips follows another, the sinful wet sounds filling the room with how deliciously slick her pussy is. She envelops your length with ease, the tight grip her cunt holds making your whole body shudder, making your wrists jerk against the restraints, utterly helpless.

That puts a smile on her face. There's no end to this warmth or the slippery glide that swallows you up with no need for adjustment, alternating between harsh drops of her hips and the rolling that sinks every inch of your cock, squeezing you like she knows you need.

“God—how deep is your cock reaching, daddy?" Wonyoung asks through uneven, staggered breaths, head hanging over your own, braced and riding you at this angle where you reach the best place possible. 

Her head snaps back in pleasure, red lips parting as each calculated movement hits just right. And you can't look anywhere else as her entire body slams down on repeat, nothing that could bring herself to stop. 

"Love when this fucking cock fills my wet little pussy—“ A simple groan escapes when she slides up halfway, pausing for impact before dropping down hard again. "When this cock splits me open and makes me cum my fucking brains out. When your heavy fucking balls spill everything in me—god, I love being a slut for daddy to breed, a perfect little cum dump for those huge fucking loads."

"Princess—" you try to say through the fabric, though it comes out every bit muffled, the sound inaudible through these endless bounces.

"What is it, daddy? You wanna breed me already? Is this tight fucking pussy too much to handle?” she asks and gyrates her hips, clenching tight on the way down. Her palms rest on your bare chest, nails digging in while she impales herself on your length with these harsh bounces. 

Another tug on instinct that jerks the headboard back, as if you have any hopes of pulling free, left to watch as she does whatever she wants. With your mouth crammed with lace, there's no fighting these sounds, no chance of anything you say becoming audible. All the same, Wonyoung understands every little muffled noise, finding the perfect angle, every fucking drop that keeps your cock drowning in this slippery warmth.

"Almost there, daddy. You're doing so well—such a good fucking stretch, making my pussy so wet," she breathes out with her head tossed back, ass bouncing on your lap. Whenever your length goes impossibly deep, Wonyoung groans with each rise, these delicious noises that you can’t get enough of. "R-right there, that's the spot."

She bounces that petite frame with reckless abandon, hair a total mess falling around her, hips moving as fast as they can. The bed frame rattles, creaking from how hard those thighs slam down, letting out an audible slap of flesh on every impact, juices glistening from your cock as you stay stuffed in her tight cunt.

Again, you try in vain to utter the words. It's a hard enough task through this balled-up fabric in your mouth, and yet she senses the effort. But that doesn't mean she acknowledges it, far too lost in the sensations as those strokes come with intent—hands pressing down, palms splayed on your chest to guide each slam into her cunt.

"You're gonna make me cum, fuck—so deep in me, daddy. Oh my god, feels so fucking good,” Wonyoung cries out, slick gliding her effortlessly down every inch, using her cunt in the most selfish way possible as the edge looms. 

And that's enough to have you straining harder against the leather cuffs. She's close, the look of desperate, endless bliss etched onto her features when she gets her hips on autopilot, losing all sense of control. 

"Oh fuck, g-gonna fucking cum!” Then she’s right there, the fabric of her stockings rubbing against you when your bodies collide with such frantic desperation. Wonyoung bounces and bounces, refusing to let up, fucking you so goddamn good to chase own release.

Her orgasm hits, and it hits hard—fucking herself through a blinding rush of bliss. It's wet, messy, and god, her pussy just keeps spasming around you, that high going and going while her body shakes, thighs quivering so violently. 

She doesn't ease up on you either, riding like she’ll never get enough, eyelids heavy and head tossed back as she tries to keep going—too delirious to get another word out. Her warm little hole clamps like a vice on your entire length, overwhelming you with all these intoxicating sensations. Such a vibrant image, the sight of Wonyoung struggling to not fall apart while she rides your cock, mind filled with nothing but endless ecstasy.

"F-fuck," is all that comes out from Wonyoung when she brings her hips to a sudden halt and falls forward, removing her panties from your mouth and pulling you into a deep kiss. It's every bit intense and heated, your lips so easily captured, her tongue shoved in your mouth like it belongs there. "S-so good, so, fucking good—daddy made me cum so fucking hard."

Wonyoung is breathless, sweat beading all over, the glow on her skin and satisfaction in her features when her gaze meets yours once again.

"Now daddy must be dying to cum," she finally says through all these pants and gasps while her forehead rests against yours, that impossible to break eye-contact trapping you as your hard cock throbs so deep inside the snug, velvety grip of her cunt.

"You have no idea, wanna fill you, cum deep inside—" 

"Poor daddy. Your balls must be getting so heavy," Wonyoung laughs, giving an overwhelming roll of her hips, as if you weren't aching enough. She cups your face and leans in close, looking at the pink leather wrapped around your wrists. "Daddy must need those off—do you deserve to get your hands all over me when your cock fills my ass?"

"Yes, fuck yes—wanna be buried in your ass, wanna feel how tight you are,” you reply almost instantly, because like hell would you choose otherwise. Wonyoung simply smiles at the desperation on display, taking her time as she carefully undoes the handcuffs and sets you free, one at a time, tossing them aside. 

“Is that where daddy wants to cum? Deep inside my tight little asshole? Sounds so good—fill my ass with all your sticky fucking seed, wanna feel it flood right out of me. Don’t keep me waiting then.” 

As much as you love this tight cunt, the urge for something more has been clawing away. And now that you've been given free rein to do what you please, there's only one place your cock needs.

So just like that, Wonyoung climbs off, all that wetness dripping everywhere when your swollen cock springs free from her heavenly cunt.

She crawls over to the far end of the mattress, knowing what has to come next as she unhooks her bra, tossing that off and out of the way, leaving nothing on her but delicious heels and stockings. You see every curve from behind, watching closely while she gets on all fours, ass looking like absolute perfection, leaving you to salivate once Wonyoung gathers some pillows to hover over.

"Pound me—fucking pound my ass hard. Daddy doesn't need to go easy. I want that dick in my ass, wanna feel all of you stuff me fucking full," she breathes out. 

And even while she says that, you need a moment to stroke your cock and stare, marveling at those creamy cheeks that are about to be your new home. But like the brat said—don't keep her waiting. 

Shuffling over to the bedside table, you barely need to search, finding the small bottle practically empty. Enough left to slide your cock in, and that’s all that matters. And then you’re in position right behind Wonyoung, her sinful little body all there for you to take—

The cap opens, and your hand grips her supple ass, squeezing for a good moment before slicking your length with the cool liquid. Wonyoung, of course, shows impatience when you slide a slippery finger past that tight ring of muscle—a second one quick to join after, both working into her knuckle deep and sinking them in further. 

It's a routine you could do blindfolded. In your sleep, so well rehearsed at this point. The rim of her puckered hole accepts you with such ease, a slight moan slipping when you're halfway, quick to escalate the impatience you both share.

"Hurry up, get your big fucking dick in me, god—"

That's the plan. 

But that's difficult when your fingers have a mind of their own, pumping in and out to enjoy the tightness, how good her ass looks taking them deep. After all, it’s only fair to return the favor and tease her. Not like your cock isn’t aching to get inside either—so a momentary detour is plenty justifiable. Especially with these pathetic whimpers while you finger her asshole.

Her ass just feels too good to let up, a thumb running along her tight little rim, playing and toying until you reach the breaking point.

And then you take your cock, slapping it against those cheeks to get any kind of relief you can get—a few more teasing smacks before you line up. She's ready for it, pleading to be filled when you press your swollen cockhead right along her slicked-up back entrance, ready to sink into heaven and lose yourself. 

But there’s just one more thing missing—

Looking back, you spot the discarded handcuffs, abandoned on the edge of the bed and practically calling out to you. You don’t think twice about making use of them, picking them up in haste. 

And Wonyoung doesn't even see this coming. Her eyes widen with anticipation as you seize her wrists one by one, pulling them behind her back and securing them in place, the click from the final clasp far too satisfying. 

"Fucking brat thinks she's the only one allowed to surprise people," you say, giving her plump ass a sudden spank as a startled gasp fills the room. She tries to look back from over her shoulder, struggling with the way her arms are bound.

"Daddy, p-please, need your cock—“ 

"Shut up, little fucking slut." Another sharp hit on each side of her ass makes the flesh redden with bright handprints, each more aggressive than the previous. These perfectly round cheeks on total display the best canvas as your palm does as it pleases. 

There’s no protesting on her end despite this ambush, and she knows exactly what she’s started, riling you up like this, driving you to such actions—desperate to be put in her place. 

You can't say you've seen a better sight. Wonyoung's back arched with those slender arms held together behind, no choice but to keep that round ass in the air, ripe for the taking. That's the part you focus on most of all, these pale cheeks reddening with your strikes, squeezing them apart, her hungry little hole awaiting your thick cock. "Now the princess gets to be all helpless, doesn't she?" 

Not that she doesn't enjoy the restraint, she revels in it. Hell, she's the reason these handcuffs are even here in the first place. Because they look so good on her when she's begging to be fucked.

"Fucking brat actually likes being handcuffed and punished, huh? Being all helpless and vulnerable when she's taking this cock." She has no counter to that, no means to reply—and her entire demeanor shifts, voice coming through with this timid, flustered tone.

"Daddy, p-please, shove your cock inside, fuck me, pound my asshole—"

“I said shut up, slut. Do I have to gag you with your own fucking panties, princess? Or maybe something else, I'm sure Yujin has something useful around." 

Another harsh slap, hitting the exact same place. The red hue only grows darker while you give another, even harder, followed by a half-dozen more, each one stinging more than the last. 

"N-no, need daddy to hear me when that cock stretches my ass, p-please…"

She melts into submission without any real effort, losing any hope of resistance with the dozen or so smacks on that tight little ass that make her body jolt with each one. “Gonna open you up so wide, ruin daddy’s pretty little fuckdoll, make sure you can’t sit straight for a fucking week.” 

And that’s your cue to end this teasing. 

When the whimpering gets desperate, and the torture has lasted for too long. Pressing the swollen tip to her puckered entrance, Wonyoung groans when you inch in slowly, until her ass swallows you up. 

"God, princess," is all that you choke out as she slowly takes every inch without issue, letting out a sigh with you buried to the hilt. Every breath is ragged, shallow, and unsteady when you start thrusting, everything so warm and tight around your throbbing length. 

But the tightness, god—there's no greater sensation than this hot little asshole welcoming you, all of you. Each stroke becomes an impulse, sliding slowly and deep as you pull out halfway, just to enjoy the way she sucks you back in. 

"Mm, fuck, daddy—s-so good, so full," is all Wonyoung can manage, face into the pillows with her hands behind her back, turned enough so you can still make out her features—and all the pleasure etched there as you pump. "God, more, need you pounding me hard. Didn't I tell you to not take it fucking easy?" 

That's what earns her another hard slap on her ass, one with plenty of force behind it at that sudden defiance that loves to creep up. A reminder that even when her wrists are bound together, she takes what she wants. And once you slide out and right back in, a smack comes down so hard she clenches tight around your shaft, anticipating the pain that follows while you stay buried to the hilt, balls pressed up against her ass. 

Because even as you reward her with more punishing smacks to those creamy, pale cheeks already tarnished with fresh handprints—you know the one thing she hates most is denial.

So that's what you'll do, stay lodged all the way up inside, not moving a single inch. And from the look on her face, Wonyoung catches on, expression fading into something disappointed when she tries to push her hips back. 

"Don’t even think about it, princess," you warn, holding her hips firmly in place. "Not moving an inch until you learn to behave."

"Daddy wouldn't. Know you need to fill up my tight little asshole until I’m gaping and leaking with cum."

Her entire demeanor changes on a dime with those words, looking back like she's the one in control, despite her situation. 

"Wouldn't I? Don't test me. I can easily walk out that door and leave you like this for as long as I fucking want. Find Yujin instead and fill her cunt with the load that's meant for your ass."

"You wouldn't dare—"

"Wanna try me and find out? I'll go track her down, throw her legs over my shoulders and pound that beautiful pussy while all you can do is listen. It'll be her hair I'm pulling, not yours. Her pretty toes in my mouth. Her gorgeous face I'll be painting with my cum—not your slutty fucking holes.” 

"D-daddy, p-please!" she says, voice trembling at the threat. "Need you to stay in my ass, use me like a good little whore—"

"Oh, so now you're good? Only when it's convenient to you, is that it, brat?"

"N-no, just don't leave—don't go fuck Yujin instead. Need you to stay in me and finish."

Like you could ever do anything but that. That ass is absolutely fucking irresistible, the strength required to deny its grasp—it's impossible. 

Besides, you've had your fill of games. Not one more second to waste, your cock needs that tight fucking ass. So once again, you pull those hips back with you and slam into her ass with even more force, shoving every last inch to bury deep. And then you do it again and again, the resounding slap filling the room, hearing her helpless little moans after every thrust. 

"There you go—daddy's in my ass so fucking deep. Knew you couldn't go without your favorite cum dump," she murmurs through another strained moan, and that only makes your thrusts come harder, these unforgiving slams that are anything but gentle. 

If this is how she wants it, then it's a gift you can deliver. Because you're not going to have it any other way either, wanting to make good on your promise to make sure she can’t walk straight and then some. 

"Gonna fucking open you up so much, god, can't take how good this asshole feels, princess—"

Each thrust that buries deep feels so impossibly tight, suffocating your cock when you get balls deep, only staying for enough time to bottom out so you can pound back in once you slide out. 

It drives you fucking mad how tight and warm this hole you’re plunging yourself into, pulling her entire petite frame back whenever you withdraw. Another animalistic groan follows your hard pumps, burying yourself and stretching out her asshole as she's reduced to a moaning mess below you, head buried in a pillow and taking everything you give.

"F-fuck, love daddy's huge fucking cock," Wonyoung groans, taking the rough strokes you dish out with pride. “Love when you get so rough, when you lose control fucking my ass. I can't even do anything but take it like a good little slut." 

She gets it, god, she does. She knows exactly what all these moments do to you, get your body moving like you’re possessed. The way her reddened cheeks bounce when they meet your hips, and the mere sight of these fucking stockings on her never-ending legs makes it even better. 

You’re drunk on the bliss her body brings, and the feeling is mutual. Wonyoung is so eager to take everything you can give, gasping and pleading for even more, as if her ass isn’t the best thing you’ve buried your cock in. And you need more as much as she does, lifting yourself into a squat and leaning forward over her ass, pounding away with reckless abandon in this new angle that gets you even deeper. 

"F-fuck! Love this little asshole getting slammed, daddy’s fucking me so hard—mm, fuck, just like that. Fucking use me, use your greedy little slut, please—“ 

As if you’re even capable of anything else but pounding away at her ass while she drips all over the sheets. All you can even think about is getting deep between those cheeks while your heavy balls smack against her wet cunt, and you’re not sure you’re ever going to be able to leave even after you’ve left a hot, creamy load inside her. 

“Gonna cum so fucking hard in your ass when I’m done with you, slut. Fill it with my load and fuck it deep,” you growl, accentuating your words with a harsh slap to her cheeks, not letting her forget about the painful pleasure she’s addicted to. 

"Don't s-stop," she pleads, crying out when a palm collides again on her ass, craving that harsh sting more than anything. But that’s all she gets for now, putting your all into your hammering thrusts that slam her into the mattress. 

Wonyoung is taking it all like a champ, unable to even touch herself with these bound wrists, forced to endure whatever you give. All she gets to do is take what she deserves and more with every hard, unforgiving stroke that fills her. You need this—god, she fucking needs this just the same, each slam into her greedy little asshole getting more ferocious than the last, bordering on uncontrollable when her ass devours everything.

Not that she'd have you any other way.

"Just like that, nngh—oh god, fuck my ass, fill me up,” she begs, downright delirious from having this cock shoved up her ass, as you fuck into her little hole without any concern, pistoning deep in her tight depths. “Need you to ruin this ass—fill my gaping fucking asshole with cum, please—daddy, use me however you fucking want."

Those words really do you in. Almost as much as the tightness of her ass does. You’re completely lost in these mirrored desires, in the thrusts that spiral beyond control, so rough in her warm little hole that demands more, refuses to relent from such an unforgiving grip. 

You can’t even think about holding back anything now as you grab her handcuffed wrists and use them for leverage. And somehow, that gets you even more merciless—watching how those manicured nails form a fist, desperate to clench onto  anything as you drill her from behind, your eyes glued to where your shaft disappears. 

“You’re mine, princess, you hear that? All fucking mine, every little inch of your tight body.” 

"All yours," she manages out through the mind-numbing thrusts. "Always was, daddy. Just don't stop fucking me like this—"

Wonyoung can't help the desperate sounds that escape. She’s whining and whimpering, drool spilling onto the sheets when you get so deep, when her petite frame nearly gives out, almost unable to keep pace with her own demands. She really does struggle against her own self-control, and you're pretty sure if these handcuffs weren't on, there's not a doubt about the sheets she'd ruin with a hand between her thighs. 

You're fucking her into absolute incoherence, moaning between each harsh thrust and knowing there's no goddamn way to last. As you keep a wrist in your grasp, you reach down to give another hard spank across that pristine, pale flesh, not letting those bright red handprints ever fade. Because she deserves it, she's fucking earned every last one. Every single yelp that follows, the sting all over her sensitive skin that makes her clench tighter—the raw, crimson blush on those cheeks intent on making sure she’ll feel it for days. 

She lives for these spanks, the way your palm marks her, this soreness that feeds her arousal. The only way it could get better would be if Yujin were here—with a paddle in her hands, delivering as many as she can count.

It's that sensation of your hand connecting on each tender cheek, your cock impaling her ass while she remains so helpless, the stuttered little sounds when she takes it. All these things lead right up to the point you can't hold back a moment longer. With your hands back on her hips, the spanks cease in favor of giving your all, to ram in as deep and as hard as this little body can take.

"D-daddy's gonna cum so hard In this tight little hole, isn't he?" Wonyoung asks, more of a plea than a question, every word a little more slurred and broken. 

"Gonna pump you full, brat, fuck—" You feel it building, a steady pressure that has no chance of being contained. One more slap on that sore ass echoes through the room when your fingers dig into her sweaty flesh, and then you're holding her still, slamming your throbbing cock into her ass until the very last moment. 

Then you unload everything inside her. 

You let out a breathy groan as you pump it all deep inside her warm little asshole—one after another, each leaving you satisfied and breathless. Cum spills out in sticky, hot violent spurts as Wonyoung just moans with each shot her ass wrings out, working to empty your heavy balls inside this incredible tightness. 

She claims it all, her tight ass draining everything so desperately, every second a constant squeeze to milk you completely dry. 

It's filthy and sticky and, god, it's everything you need. What you both do. It never seems to stop, each heavy spurt bringing a new violent jerk of your hips that pounds it deep as those reddened cheeks swallow up the final remnants of your release. 

"Mmh, fuck—so full of daddy's cum, deep in my fucking ass. Daddy really destroyed my tight asshole and pumped me full, just how I needed.”  

Wonyoung still slurs her speech while not even thinking about letting you go. Not just yet. You'll stay here, buried in her ass knowing not to even try pulling away. Because those tender cheeks look so amazing stuffed full—nothing compared to what you’ll see the moments after you pull out.

"Good girl." 

That's all you mutter before leaning forward to press your weight down further on Wonyoung, increasing the angle enough so her body is flattened into the soft pillows below. There isn't an inch to move in this new position, your cock so snug all the way inside, still impaling her petite body to keep that creamy white load where it belongs. 

"N-no, not good—can't say that now," she murmurs, every word breathless with this fucked out expression etched on her face, biting her bottom lip and pressing her ass back the slightest. "Daddy's little fucking cumslut, you mean. Don't know the first thing about being good."

And what can you do but laugh while you pepper her flushed skin in kisses, some traveling down her shoulder, ending at the crook of her neck. 

For now, you stay in that position, catching your breath as she finally lets go, her hot little asshole gripping so harshly like it never wants you to leave when you slide out. There's a beautiful trail of sticky white of left behind, leaking right between her cheeks that you spread apart once you finally withdraw your length.

There's no greater sight, the creamy white dripping from that stretched out little hole, seeping between her pale thighs and onto the sheets, while your cock rests against her ass.

"Fuck, you really did wreck my asshole, daddy," Wonyoung almost laughs out in disbelief. 

"Not my fault you love it like that, princess." 

"Of course I do, dummy. Whatever makes daddy cum the hardest," she adds, panting between words to catch her breath, looking so goddamn gorgeous even through the brattiness that will always lurk. The only thing better is those red handprints all over her pale ass, left there as a reminder of what she’s earned. 

You give a firm squeeze of her ass one last time, a slight gasp leaving her when you force a bit more cum right out through her stretched hole, pushing the sticky mess right back in with a thumb that makes Wonyoung clench back around. “You always make me pump you so damn full, brat. Can't control myself around you."

"Wouldn't want you to," Wonyoung mumbles, leaving that thought unfinished as you savor these last moments, how good she looks face down, ass up like this, covered in sweat and cum dripping everywhere, even down her stockings and on the sheets below.

After you've finished enjoying the view, you glance down at her wrists and realize there's still the handcuffs on, wondering whether you should even bother taking them off.

"Daddy…" she whines, reminding you to make a decision when the silence lingers. 

"Yes, princess?" 

"I'm still handcuffed."

Quite the obvious fact—but you play oblivious. "You are. They look good on you, though."

You're not entirely sure you want to free Wonyoung. The pink leather looks gorgeous wrapped around those dainty wrists, her head against the pillows while she remains helpless, bent over with your cum dripping out. There's an appeal to watching her struggle—if only a bit. 

"Daddy! I can't kiss you like this," she complains, and you guess that’s a good enough reason as any to reach over and undo them. 

So you sigh, hoping to not regret it when you shuffle behind Wonyoung to uncuff her. With the restraints off, you kiss her wrists one at a time—rubbing your thumbs over the skin. She's back on her knees in no time at all, facing you on the bed so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, ready to pepper your face with soft kisses.

"Daddy wanted to leave me like that?" Wonyoung asks, this subtle shift into a sweeter tone when she kisses the corner of your lips.

"Thought about it." 

The handcuffs aren't a stranger to being around Wonyoung’s wrists, nor is the color pink—all too fitting on her.

Regardless, she keeps that pout, so unfairly cute when she wears it, a bit too irresistible. 

And so you let those pillowy lips meet yours again. One long kiss leads into another, and there's little effort to fight the hunger in each one as they press deeper. "Don't act like you don't love me fucking you when you're utterly helpless, princess." 

"Never said I didn't," she says, cupping your face in both hands without doing anything else. So you reciprocate, this slow kiss taking over, neither of you eager to end the exchange. That's the effect her lips have on you, so dangerous, more trouble than they're worth, in the best way possible.

"Brat. Should have really gagged you earlier. When my cock was fucking you senseless."

"You won't. Daddy loves making me scream when he ruins me," Wonyoung murmurs against your lips. “Handcuffs or not." 

That's news to nobody. 

✦ ✦

It's not the first time, and definitely won’t be the last that Jang Wonyoung wants more—

Not even an hour later and she's bent over the kitchen counter, right next to the leftover pizza from that one place Yujin loves that stays open after midnight. 

There isn't a single moment of rest for you with your cock back to splitting her ass open as you thrust rough and fast, wanting nothing more than to fill it all over again. Her fingers grab tight on the edge of the counter, your fist in her hair while your hips piston like a fucking train. 

The kitchen counter is more of Yujin's territory, wearing a cute apron without anything beneath while she's making breakfast for you, that sinful, round ass staring you right in the face. 

But Wonyoung insists this is the spot—the moment the two of you wander out of the shower. You're not picky when it comes to railing her into next week, finding the nearest surface, her perfect ass practically demanding your tongue before anything else. 

You're more than happy to indulge, burying your face in between those cheeks and devouring her asshole, craving all her delicious little moans as you find yourself back where you belong. A handful of hair, your cock lodged nice and deep In a mixture of saliva and lube, and those juicy ass cheeks being slapped. That's all you need.

Wonyoung, as expected, gets demanding fast, and it doesn't take long to move things back towards the living room.

To the couch, and a little detour where she ends up in a familiar position, legs stretched out, head over the armrest, hanging right over the edge—all for easier access to that warm little mouth. Then she's upside-down, laying back comfortably to the point where all she can do is wrap her pillowy lips around your cock, taking you so deep down that tight throat and gagging around it. A repeat of earlier last night. 

And before you know it, Wonyoung has you thrusting those hips while buried inside that tight ass yet again, her long legs spread so wide on the living room couch, bare feet up in the air and pointed toward the ceiling while you pound away. 

Fucking her face, her ass, wherever, whenever, Wonyoung seems incapable of quenching her insatiable needs tonight, demanding you use her petite body like she knows no limit. You're not about to tell her no, her warm little asshole sucking you back in at every given chance.

The couch, to nobody's surprise, becomes a wet fucking mess when you're buried so deep in Wonyoung's ass, staring at such a pretty face while she rubs her swollen clit, squirting all over you and the couch cushions in a loud, violent rush. 

After she's cum twice more, things move over to the armchair right next to the sofa—another piece of expensive furniture you're ready to defile. With Wonyoung clinging tight as your cock gets back inside that needy asshole, it's easy to sit her right on your lap, bare back against your chest and pound her like your life fucking depends on it. It's the perfect position to get so close, so intimate, staring at each other while your cock hammers away.

"Can you two keep it down over there?" Yujin asks, not even able to finish the sentence without laughing. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

You know that's a goddamn lie. Yujin steps in from the kitchen, not dressed for bed whatsoever, walking over to your side as you don't slow a thing. With a bowl of cereal and a spoon, she plops down onto the floor when she notices the couch is out of commission. 

"What did you two do to the couch?"

"S-shut up and eat your cereal," Wonyoung manages in between whimpers as her asshole gets wrecked right in front of Yujin's calm demeanor. And she's using the two of you as her own entertainment, the spoon dipping into her bowl, watching like it's all a movie on screen. 

Yujin laughs again. "Didn't answer the question."

“F-fuck you,” Wonyoung fires back, voice hoarse from all the screams and moans. 

Your eyes lock with Yujin's gaze that watches, eating up every second of this visual treat as your hard cock reams into Wonyoung, and you can barely contain how close you are to pumping her full. But Yujin just smirks, giving a quick, amused glance while she's crunching down. "Maybe later. You're a little preoccupied, princess."

Wonyoung doesn't respond right away, slapping her cunt when you slam into her so fucking hard. "If you wanted daddy to yourself, then you should've asked. “A-ahh, f-fuck—this big, thick cock stretching my asshole so much—"

"Don't worry," Yujin says, after an overly dramatic crunch. "I'll empty daddy's balls in the morning. Looks like you two are gonna be busy for a while."

Yeah, you could say that. At this rate, the sun will be up soon and Wonyoung is in one of those moods, you can tell. Every surface is in danger—and the same could be said about your poor cock that won't be given even the slightest hint of mercy.

“God—still haven't stopped, you're fucking addicted to being in my ass," says Wonyoung, locking an arm right behind your neck, whimpering and whining as your shaft pistons away.

"Me? You're the one wanting round whatever since we got out of that shower, you insatiable fucking brat. Taking my cock nonstop was your idea."

"This cock fucks me too well not to," she gasps out, before letting another filthy moan follow through.

Yujin keeps laughing through all of this. At this point, she's used to the sound of your cock splitting Wonyoung’s asshole with a merciless series of thrusts, happy to keep playing spectator. "Both of you are so fucking ridiculous. Two horny roommates obsessed with fucking each other’s brains out."

"Nnngh, fuck—and you're not? If you didn't have that stupid spoon in your mouth it would be on my fucking clit. Y-yes, ah—god, shit, shit, just like that, destroy me, daddy."

But she isn't wrong. That damn smirk is painted on the entire time, and Yujin knows how bad she can't wait to have a turn once Wonyoung finally gets satisfied enough.

Which might be a while.

For now, you can only wrap your hands under Wonyoung's thighs, spreading them even wider to pound up harder from below. Who even knows what ungodly hour it is, how much lube has been used, or how many more rounds you have in you. 

Your cock in Wonyoung, that cereal, and Yujin. A perfect trifecta, and a perfect ending to a perfect night.

[pixiefelixie]

・❥・(ot8 headcannons) THE GIRLFRIEND EFFECT

summary: in which skz start to abandon their old habits after getting a girlfriend, and their fellow members can only watch in stunned horror as love turns these men soft. the girlfriend effect is real. nobody is safe. cw: profanity, just endless fluff and crack, use of she/her pronouns, pls take the humor with a grain of salt <3

chan - the insomniac king was dethroned

bang chan does not sleep. everyone knows that. 

he goes to bed into the next day—3am, 4am, sometimes not at all—and wakes up looking like he’s been in an emotionally toxic relationship with his pillow. it’s a thing. a legend, even. the morning game among the members is always:

“what time do you think chan slept last night?” “over or under 3am?”

so when he walks into morning dance practice looking… rested?

eyes clear. hoodie on straight. skin dewy. shoulders not hunched like a man carrying the weight of three unfinished tracks.

it’s suspicious.

no one’s said it yet, but the members are all thinking the same thing

seungmin narrows his eyes like he’s solving a mystery. then, slowly, he raises a finger and points directly at chan.

“what time,” he begins, voice slow and ominous, “did you sleep last night?”

it’s the sacred question. normally used to roast him. normally answered with some sleep-deprived groan and a “i don’t know, man.” but this time, it comes out… almost reverent. because the idea of bang chan getting a full night’s sleep is no longer a joke—it’s truth.

chan blinks. like he didn’t expect anyone to ask.

“uh…” he rubs the back of his neck, looking oddly sheepish. “y/n was tired. we kinda crashed around midnight.”

midnight.

midnight.

you could hear a pin drop on the dance floor.

jeongin just stares. mouth slightly open. brain buffering.

“you slept... at midnight?” he echoes.

chan shrugs, trying to play it off—but he can’t hide the way his lips twitch like he’s just a little too proud. “yeah, she knocked out so i didn’t want to wake her.”

“s-so you just… fell asleep? did she drug you or something?”

chan just laughs. “nah, i just like being next to her. it’s… easy to fall asleep.”

jeongin looks like he’s witnessing a crime scene. or maybe a miracle. it’s hard to tell.

“he’s broken,” he whispers, still staring. “she’s broken him.”

seungmin doesn’t even blink. he crosses his arms and says, deadpan, “no. she’s fixed him.”

and that day, for the first time in forever, chan doesn’t yawn once.

minho - “don’t touch my ass.”

minho is many things. dancer. cat dad. human embodiment of strange.

but above all?

he’s a butt hunter.

he will grope, slap, poke, and outright ambush the butts of any member foolish enough to turn their back on him. it's not even weird anymore—it's tradition. part of the culture. a stray kids rite of passage.

so when several days go by with no butt activity? suspicion brews.

jisung is the first to notice. obviously. he passes minho in the hallway and flinches out of habit, or trauma—but nothing. not even a threatening twitch.

it’s unsettling. so unsettling, in fact, that jisung decides to take matters into his own hands.

literally.

the next day, backstage at inkigayo, jisung makes his move.

minho’s facing the mirror, fixing his hair. perfect. jisung creeps up behind him like he’s in a nature documentary.

and then—pat. a clean, respectful grab. 

he waits. silence.

minho blinks at his reflection, then turns around slowly. calmly.

then: “don’t touch my ass.”

jisung chokes. “what?”

minho just stares at him. blank. serious. 

“don’t touch my ass,” he repeats, tone calm but final—like he’s scolding a cat for scratching the couch again.

“are you mad at me? jisung sputters. 

that finally gets minho’s full attention. he sighs, and looks up at jisung like he’s explaining something very simple to a very dumb squirrel.

“no. i’m not mad at you,” he says, voice calm. “it’s not about you.”

jisung blinks, confused and still braced for impact. “then what is it?”

minho shrugs, like it’s obvious. “it’s y/n.”

there’s a pause as jisung tries to keep up.

minho sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck. “like… i wouldn’t love it if other people were grabbing my partner’s ass all the time, even as a joke, you know? and yeah, it’s always been just us messing around, but still. she’s my girlfriend. i wanna be consistent.”

jisung stares. “so… you’re retiring from ass play.”

minho gives him a flat look. “don’t call it that.”

jisung holds up both hands, backing off. “okay, okay. sorry. just—wow. that’s actually kind of sweet. and disturbingly mature.”

“you had a good run. but i’m taken now. full package. including the rear.”

jisung almost falls to his knees.

“she’s corrupted you.”

changbin - “i hope you lose your pump.”

changbin is reliable.

rain or shine, comeback or chaos, he goes to the gym.

it’s not a suggestion. it’s not a routine. it’s a spiritual contract with his biceps. if he skips a day, he complains that he can “feel himself shrinking.” if his members skip leg day, he offers to carry them—and their guilt.

so when he’s not at the gym by 10am, it’s weird. when he’s not at the gym by noon? alarming. and when he’s not at the gym at all?

something is deeply wrong.

minho’s the first to text:

you alive or did you get hit by car 

no reply.

by 2pm, some have migrated to the dorms to check on him in person. they knock. no answer. chan tries the handle—unlocked.

and there he is.

changbin. on the couch. blanket over his legs. one arm around you, the other lazily flipping through netflix. a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on his lap.

he looks up. blinks.

“oh, hey,” he mumbles, clearly still half-asleep. “didn’t hear you come in.”

silence.

you offer a small wave from behind the couch. “hi.”

minho squints. 

“where were you?” chan asks, tone sharp like an accusation.

changbin blinks. “sorry?”

“the gym,” minho says, gesturing wildly. 

changbin furrows his brows. “i don’t remember telling you i was going.”

“you never have to tell us,” chan cuts in, clearly distressed. “you always go. we stopped asking you ages ago.”

“you’re the one who made a whole speech about how ‘discipline is showing up even when you don’t feel like it.’” minho scoffs.

you shift under the blanket slightly, sitting up a bit straighter, and speaking up for the first time since the interrogation began.

“i called him over,” you say simply, voice soft but teasing. “sorry none of you have girls asking to spend time with you.”

minho scoffs. 

changbin chuckles beside you, hand up for a high-five. you slap it, grab another handful of popcorn, and lean back with a smile.

chan shakes his head, but his lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. “can’t even be mad. you look happy.”

“you’ve changed,” minho says solemnly, but really, he’s proud. “i hope you lose your pump.”

changbin grins. “you’re just jealous.”

they probably are.

hyunjin - “she likes me when i'm low-effort.”

hyunjin doesn’t just get ready. he curates.

every outfit is a look. every look has a theme. necklaces. earrings. scarves. a gentle waft of expensive perfume that smells like whispered poetry.

so when he walks out of his room wearing—

sweatpants. a plain white t-shirt. no versace. no rings. no 12-step skincare glow. just lip balm.

his roommate, changbin, nearly drops his protein shake.

“hold still.” he steps in front of the door, arms spread like he’s blocking a crime scene. “are you really going out like that?”

hyunjin blinks. looks down at himself like he forgot what he put on. then shrugs. “yeah. brunch.”

“with who, your bed?”

“y/n.”

silence.

“you’re going out with your girlfriend, hyunjin.” he says slowly, 

hyunjin tilts his head. “she likes me just fine this way.”

changbin gestures wildly. “you’re wearing sweatpants.”

hyunjin shrugs again, utterly unbothered. “they're clean.”

“and the plain white tee?”

“she said i look cute when i’m low-effort.”

changbin groans like he’s being personally attacked. “do you know how hard i tried to look good the last time i saw a girl? i changed outfits four times and still ended up sweating through my shirt.”

hyunjin just smirks, grabbing his phone off the counter before opening the door. “maybe you should’ve tried less.” he adds casually, before stepping out. “bye.”

and all changbin can do is stand there, shaking his head, whispering.

“she’s changed him.” 

han - his ego took a sick day

jisung milks compliments. he churns them into butter. whips them into frosting. lives off the validation like it’s a multivitamin.

in interviews, when asked who's the funniest? “obviously me.”

best-looking? “me, but hyunjin’s close.”

most talented? “it’s me. i wrote this question.”

you’re at the jyp cafeteria, trays clinking, the hum of trainees and staff in the background as you sit shoulder to shoulder with jisung at a corner table, while hyunjin and felix are across from you.

jisung’s rambling about something—probably a dream, possibly a conspiracy—chopsticks waving as he talks through a mouthful of rice. that’s when you notice it.

a tiny scrap of seaweed. clinging to the edge of his lip.

you lean in just a bit, tapping the side of your own mouth. “right there.”

he pauses, tongue darting out instinctively to swipe the spot along with a flick of his eyes up at you like, did i get it?

and somehow… it’s stupidly attractive.

and it hits you—hard and fast and stupid:

“you’re so handsome,” you murmur.

hyunjin and felix immediately stop eating.

the air stills.

felix sets down his spoon with a slow, almost reverent motion.

hyunjin glances at felix. then at you. then at jisung. they both brace for it.

this is the moment where his ego explodes.

he’s about to say something cocky. something ridiculous like "thank you for the unnecessary comment—everyone already knows that."

but none of that happens.

instead?

jisung freezes.

his chopsticks stop mid-air. his lips part slightly, like the words never formed.

felix and hyunjin exchange a slow, stunned glance across the table, like they’re witnessing something rare and possibly mythical.

jisung clears his throat. forces a tiny smile. not his usual smug grin—something smaller. bashful.

you tilt your head, soft and sincere as you repeat. “you’re really handsome.”

he ducks his head slightly, mumbling, “stop,” but there’s no bite in it.

you grin.

that’s when hyunjin leans forward dramatically, hand cupping his mouth. “i didn’t know you were capable of being humble.”

jisung groans, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth just to avoid talking. “shut up.”

hyunjin smirks. “you’re blushing.”

“i am not.”

felix points. “then why are your ears the color of gochujang?”

jisung throws him a look, cheeks puffed full of rice like a chipmunk. he chews dramatically, swallows, and finally mutters—

“god forbid i get a little flustered when my girlfriend compliments me.”

hyunjin groans dramatically, flopping back in his chair. “she softened him. he’s fully simmered.”

felix sighs into his hands. “remember when he used to call himself ‘sex on legs’ and say we were lucky to know him?”

jisung shovels another spoonful of rice into his mouth. “still true,” he mumbles.

he then looks at you—blushing, with a small smile.

felix - "i’m keeping her on her toes.”

felix is a certified cuddle bug.

he initiates first, always. doesn’t matter the time, the place, or the number of witnesses. if you're standing still for more than five seconds? he’s already wrapped around you like a weighted blanket if it had freckles.

he hugs everyone. back hugs. side hugs. full-body collapse hugs. the man radiates affection like it’s photosynthesis—he needs it to live, and he makes sure everyone else gets a dose too.

but ever since he started dating you…you started playing this little game. felix has decided to become your greatest enemy.

you step into the recording studio with a bright smile, holding iced americanos.

only felix, chan, and jisung today. chan looks up from the mixing board, immediately grinning. “oh, legend. thank you.”

jisung’s in the booth, mid-bar, rapping like his life depends on it.

you walk over to felix, who’s perched on the couch, headphones around his neck, scribbling notes in a lyric sheet. you set the tray of drinks down on the little table beside him, lean down, and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

then, naturally, you slide your arms around him in a casual hug.

he doesn’t move.

no returning squeeze. no snuggle into your shoulder. no dramatic gasp and full koala-mode cling. just him—smiling, smug.

smiling, but not hugging back.

you pull back just enough to pout. “felix. not this again.”

chan glances up from his monitor, brows raised. “what are you doing?”

felix turns to him. “she always expects the hugs. i’m trying to keep her on her toes.”

you groan. “we live for the hugs, felix. there are rules.”

“i know.” he winks. “that’s why i break them.”

chan leans back in his chair, eyes wide like he’s seeing felix for the first time. “you’ve… developed self-control.”

you sigh dramatically, still half in his lap. “unfortunately.”

felix scoffs, poking your side. “don’t act like you’re some poor victim. you dodge me all the time!”

you narrow your eyes. “okay, fine. if you wanna play that game… how about neither of us do anything?”

felix leans back like he’s genuinely considering it. “alright. okay. deal.”

a beat passes. one whole second.

then—

he immediately lunges forward, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. “too late.”

you squeal as he hugs you tight and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, smug and unrepentant.

“felix!” you gasp, laughing. “you lasted one second!”

he grins into your shoulder. “you looked too cute being all serious.”

chan shakes his head from across the room, muttering, “so much for self-control.”

felix shrugs, arms still locked around you. “self-control’s overrated.”

you could only change him so much.

seungmin - no one knows where the savage went

seungmin has the softest little voice. polite. gentle. that kind of light, effortless tone that sounds like it should be used to offer you tea or read bedtime stories. 

but then he opens his mouth and says something like,

“you look like someone who peaked in high school,” with the same tone you'd use to say, have a nice day.

and that’s the seungmin everyone knows—sharp-tongued, savage, and weirdly charming about it. naturally, everyone assumes he’d be the same with a partner. 

you’re sitting with felix and changbin in the practice room when seungmin walks in, sipping his iced tea. he plops down next to you and greets the group with his usual drawl.

as you start unwrapping a protein bar, he eyes it casually and goes, “is that your second one today?”

you nod with a muffled “mhm,” mid-bite.

across from you, changbin freezes—brows raised, lips already curling like he’s bracing for the roast. he’s heard this setup before. he knows seungmin’s usual follow-up. normally, it’s a deadpan jab about how someone eats like a vacuum, or a not-so-subtle fat joke about needing a second lunch just to function. he’s ready.

but instead?

seungmin leans his head slightly toward you, eyes soft. “you like those ones, right? i’ll grab you a couple more next time i’m at the store.”

you blink at him, surprised—but smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “really?”

he nods, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. then reaches over, gives your knee a light pat.

changbin looks offended. “okay, how come you never say stuff like that to me? i’m the one who put her on those protein bars.”

seungmin doesn’t even look up.

“because when you eat, it sounds like a construction site.”

felix loses it, nearly spilling his drink as he doubles over laughing.

changbin gapes, pointing at seungmin. “i chew normally!”

seungmin finally looks up, deadpan. “you breathe heavy before opening a snack.”

you’re gaping at seungmin, caught between shock and laughter. “seungmin.”

he finally cracks—a tiny, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he turns toward you. he opens his mouth just slightly, so, huffing a laugh, you lift the protein bar and hold it up to his mouth.

seungmin bites down on the protein bar, eyes locked on yours—soft, a little smug, but mostly just… fond. like the insult he threw five seconds ago didn’t exist. like you’re the only thing in the room.

felix watches the entire thing unfold from the corner of the couch, straw halfway to his mouth, forgotten.

“somehow,” he mutters to changbin, stunned. “she’s tamed him.”

jeongin - "she's normal"

jeongin is the maknae 💜. and he loves being the maknae.

gets away with things. never has to go first. everyone looks out for him.

but the second one of his members tries to baby him? it’s war.

if hyunjin tries to feed him a spoonful—he glares like he’s been betrayed. if anyone calls him “innie baby”? he files for emotional damages.

he secretly loves the attention, obviously. but he’ll never admit it. not to their faces. not in this lifetime.

so when he walks off stage after the main performance, sweat-damp and glowing, and heads backstage for a breather before the encore, it’s a complete shock when jeongin lets you be touchy. lets you baby him. cause they’ve all tried and failed.

“you did so well, baby,” you say, all soft and proud, hands reaching up to fix the little flyaways at his temple.

even just the pet name “baby” hits the room like a mic drop.

hyunjin physically recoils. 

jeongin just looks at you—shy smile pulling at the corner of his lips—and quietly asks, “you think so?”

you nod immediately. “i know so. you looked amazing out there.”

he blushes, eyes dropping, but he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans in a little—like your presence is the calm after the storm.

you cup his cheeks briefly, thumbs brushing just under his eyes. “i’m so proud of you, innie.”

another pet name. another shockwave.

this time, hyunjin can’t help himself. he dramatically stumbles backward like he’s been shot. so of course hyunjin takes it as a challenge.

on his way past, he reaches out and ruffles jeongin’s hair exactly the way he knows jeongin hates—fingers scratchy, deliberately messing it up.

“great job, baby,” hyunjin mocks in a high-pitched voice, grinning.

jeongin flinches immediately.

you laugh, covering your mouth as you watch the chaos unfold.

but hyunjin’s already on a mission.

he swoops in again—arms outstretched for a dramatic hug, lips puckered exaggeratedly as he leans in with a loud, “come here, my innie baby—”

jeongin panics, pushing at his chest with both hands. “get off me!”

hyunjin stumbles back, hand on his heart like he’s been betrayed. “come on! what is this? what does she have that i don’t?”

jeongin doesn’t even hesitate.

“she’s normal,” he deadpans, fixing his hair.

hyunjin staggers like the words physically struck him, hand still pressed to his chest in mock pain.

but jeongin’s already turned back to you—his expression softening, that tiny amused smile curling at his lips. you smile back just as sweetly, eyes crinkling, and he swears his heart does a little somersault.

hyunjin stares, genuinely stunned now, voice low and almost reverent.

“i’m… envious,” he mutters. “you’ve surely done something to him.”

author's note: what if skz did something totally out of character and their members lost their minds over it? i love a man completely changing his personality for a woman. sue me. anyways, thank you for reading this. i really hope you enjoyed it! engagement is appreciated, and feel free to leave some feedback 🫶

[myth1cs]

Hold On (Hirai Momo x M!Reader)

Smut; count-on-mi asked why no one wrote about Momo in a red dress so I might as well do it.

Word Count: 2,060

"At the end of the event you'll have to give a short speech. After that we can go home."

Momo sighed and took a sip of her alcohol. Her head was buzzing, she put her hands on her forehead before she slumped down on the seat in the limo. "All of this promotion is so tiring."

Being her manager you naturally knew the toll that being an idol had on Momo. You knew that she couldn't care any less about this event and she'd much rather be home relaxing.

"Is there any more alcohol in the fridge?" Momo murmured out. You checked and found there was some alcohol in there. You nodded your head.

"Of course."

She didn't have time to ask for another glass as the limo arrived at the event. She put on her best happy face as she stepped out of the vehicle. You really commended her for her acting skills. Not many people could act happy and lively while running on little sleep.

The event went as normal. People went up to her to take pictures and she took pictures of her holding some of the company's products. As the event went on you noticed a few of the people were eyeing Momo. It was understandable of course she did look attractive in her red dress. A few people tried to get touchy with her but you stopped them.

The time came for a brief break and food was brought out. "About time, I felt like I was going to pass out." Momo groaned. "We're almost done here. Just tough it out for a while longer." A short while passed before alcohol was being passed out. Momo took a few sips hoping it'd be enough to help her get through the event but it wasn't very strong. "Damn it Y/N I need something stronger than this or I'll lose it."

"You want some of mine?" You offered her your drink. "No, it won't be enough." she responded. It seemed like she was thinking of something before she put her glass down "Do you know where the bathrooms are around here?"

"I think I saw them around here."

"Mind taking me to them?"

"Not at all, follow me."

You led her to where you saw the bathrooms and she followed behind you. Once you two arrived she grabbed your arm and pulled you into the bathroom. "Y/N I swear these events are going to be the death of me." You knew where she was going with this. It wasn't the first time - far from it.

Momo locked the door behind you and when you heard the lock click you started to take off your pants while she took off her dress. Quite often when it comes to events you would have to help Momo de-stress. It wasn't the event themselves that tired her out but the fact that she had to take time away from her break day in order to attend them.

Naturally you were more than happy with helping Momo deal with her stress. Your cock entered her warm pussy - almost as tight as the day you first entered it - and you stretched it out as you entered further. Light moans fell out of her mouth that she tried to suppress so people wouldn't hear.

You started to gently massage her boobs that you knew everyone would kill to touch "Relax Momo I'm here for you." you pushed her against the door to the bathroom being careful not to make too much noise.

The intimacy going on wasn't enough for her though. She turned her head towards you and stuck her tongue out. As if it was a natural reflex you swiftly intertwined your tongue with hers both swirling against each other. You pushed forward wanting to be as close as possible to her.

Both of your bodies were pressed against one another. While you were poking around in Momo's mouth with your tongue you started to rub your thumb against her nipples. She squirmed under you and you shoved your cock deeper into her.

She moaned into your mouth and you couldn't help but to deepen the kiss as she did. You squeezed her ass making her jump in shock "You're going to be the death of me Momo. Fuck I'm going to cum."

"Please cum in me." she pleaded. Being an idol did have its benefits. Since she was always on birth control the two of you didn't have to worry about you pulling out.

The break was about to be over so you quickly sped up your thrusting but you weren't about to ejaculate. Momo checked the time on her watch and saw that break was almost over "Let's just leave it at that." she said with a hint of disappointment in her tone. You agreed and pulled out of her. Both of you started to quickly get dressed before leaving the bathroom. Luckily nobody saw the two of you exit the bathroom at the same time.

Everything went as it should. Momo gave her speech at the end and the two of you got back in the limo that was headed back for the dorms. Momo groaned as she sipped her glass of alcohol that she got from the fridge as she entered "Damn I don't get paid enough for this. Can you believe that most of the money goes to the company?! I hardly get any of it."

She was very clearly starting to get drunk. It wasn't too bad as she mostly just complained about things.

As the ride went on you couldn't help but start to get more and more bothered by the fact that you weren't able to cum in Momo. Your cock started to rise as thoughts of the intimacy you cumming in her came into your mind.

You moved over to Momo's side and looked down at her cleavage. "Still feeling horny?" she asked? You didn't respond and started to squeeze her boobs.

Momo got up and sat on your cock and started to grind against it. You continued playing with her boobs continuously squishing them and feeling their softness. You noticed how Momo's hair was just long enough to cover her neck and you got an idea.

You moved her hair out of the way and started to start marking her on her neck. Softly biting into her skin left a pretty noticeable mark on her and you continued to mark her wanting everyone to know that you had what they wished they had. Momo let out a low moan and started to grind against you at a faster rate.

As time went on you got a bit tired of her dress so you pulled her top half of her dress down which made her boobs pop out. Unclasping her bra and setting it to the side you once again started to squeeze her boobs feeling them without any fabric getting in the way.

When the limo arrived back at the dorms Momo quickly got up and fixed herself before stepping out. You got up and helped her make her way in the building as she was still pretty intoxicated.

It seemed like Momo was ready to go to sleep but you still hadn't been able to deal with your erection yet so instead you led her to the kitchen instead. You kept a bottle with aphrodisiac pills for times like these. Every now and then you'd get hard but Momo wasn't in the mood so you'd put a few pills in her drink to "persuade" her to help you.

"I want to go to bed." she said. "How about just one more drink before bed?"

"Fine but make it quick."

With haste you poured her some alcohol and made sure to drop a few extra pills for good measure. Once they dissolved you gave her the glass which she drank pretty quickly. The pills would take some time before they'd take their effect so you tried to think of ways to stall for time. "Let's go ahead and remove your makeup."

"Now? I'll just do it tomorrow morning."

"You'll be hungover tomorrow morning Momo let's just get it out of the way now so you can rest in bed when you are."

She wasn't happy about it but she agreed. You led her back to her room and had her sit on the bed while you grabbed the makeup remover items and slowly started to remove the makeup off her face.

As you were slowly removing her makeup you noticed she had started to slowly rub her thighs together. You were glad that the pills were taking their effect but you still needed to stall for time.

Once you removed all her makeup you told Momo to wash her hair and get changed into her normal clothes.

Momo washed her hair and was about to change out of her dress before she started to feel herself getting so bothered that she didn't care about going to sleep anymore.

"Y/N want to finish what we started back at the event?"

Without replying you pushed her onto the bed and started to undress. Momo rolled up her dress until her panties were exposed and pulled them down for you to see her wet pussy.

You inserted your tongue into her pussy feeling her walls clench around it. When you rubbed your thumb on her clit she bucked her hips towards your mouth.

Her thighs wrapped around your head and her hands were pushing you to her pussy wanting to feel relieved. "Ah! Yes Y/N please keep going, I- I need you to make me cum."

Those words that fell out of her mouth sent a rush to you making you quickly get up and take off your pants so you could enter her warmth. Her pussy was quickly filled with your cock squelching and tightly wrapping around it as if made for it. Your excitement made you thrust at a sloppy pace. But you didn't care all you were after was chasing that feeling that you were denied all night long. "Ah fuck~"

Pretty noises fell out of Momo's mouth making you all the more horny and making your desire fueled further. Your hands reached out and grabbed her breasts as you started to kiss her leave marks along her collarbone. You didn't care that she had practice in a few days all you wanted was to feel her soft skin.

Momo's eyes rolled back and drool fell out of her mouth due to all the stimulation you gave her. "F- f- fuck I'm going to-" your ejaculation came so fast that you didn't get the chance to finish your sentence before your semen filled up Momo's pussy. So much flowed out that it leaked out of her and stained the mattress. But that's tomorrow's problem as far as the two of you were concerned.

Both of you still extremely horny continued going. After the third time you came in Momo you pulled out and shoved your cock down her mouth. It reached her throat making her gag but you couldn't care less. Tears fell down her cheek as she struggled to breathe but she didn't attempt to shove you back. Her tongue kept sliding up and down your length to the best of her abilities.

It felt like hours to Momo but it was likely less than a minute before your semen painted her throat. You pulled out and enjoyed the view of your cock being covered in her hot saliva. Momo coughed up your semen as she gasped for air.

Still you wanted to do one more thing. Ruin her dress.

You started to quickly rub your cock to cum on her dress. Momo was still dizzy due to the lack of oxygen but noticed what you were doing and helped you pump your cock running her finger through it and rubbing the mushroom tip with her thumb.

A big load of cum came out of your cock and stained her red dress. Whether she didn't care or notice you weren't sure of but she fell asleep shortly after you did.

Giving her breasts one last firm squeeze you got yourself dressed again before leaving her room that reeked of sex.

"Goodnight." you whispered out before you closed the door.

-----------

I'm for real real... I'm still alive and kicking!