nichuuu

[nichuuu]

Paper Houses

Cho Miyeon x M reader

(1st instalment of The View Between Villages)

Word Count: 18k+ Special thanks to @defmaybe for helping to draw out the best version of this fic.

(All the details? Really? Oh wow. Okay…)

(I��m gonna dissociate myself from this so… “you” is gonna appear a lot. Don’t sweat it cupcake—you’re not actually the one in this mess. 

It’s just a bad habit of mine, that’s all.)

--

(You’re lucky. You get the sweet start to it all. For what it’s worth: sweetness is a fucking deceiving concept when you have rose-tinted lenses.)

“You know: out of all the men I’ve dated, you cook the best.”

You raise an eyebrow as you flip the grilled cheese in your skillet. Frankly, there’s nothing to be impressed about over grilled cheese and tomato soup. Cheese sandwiched between two evenly buttered slices of bread, grilled till golden brown and served with a side of hot tomato juice in a bowl. Literally everything has been prepared for you and packed neatly into some package in a grocery store. All you did was heat it up and add a few of your own ingredients.

“Is that a compliment or a flex?” you ask, turning your gaze away from your skillet momentarily to look at Miyeon as she replies. Her face isn’t gonna add value to her answer, but you just like looking at her. She is hot after all. 

She scoffs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Jeez… Can’t a woman compliment her boyfriend in peace?”

You’ve had this conversation before, but you like to entertain her.

“This woman can’t,” you tell her, making sure she can see the smirk on your face as you turn back to the sandwich. You wave your spatula in the air as you speak, almost like you’re referring to PowerPoint slides. “She’s too weird about everything. Never take her seriously.”

“Oh, so we’re just gonna call me weird and neglect the fact you keep your butter in that?” she exclaims, pointing at the butter bell on top of your fridge. It was a Christmas gift from your mom last year, and even though you did think it was weird at first, you have not gone back to keeping your butter in blocks. 

“You keep my fucking butter bell out of this,” you warn, and it’s half joking and half serious. 

(No one fucks with your butter bell.)

Miyeon chortles. You don’t need to look at her to know that she’s raising her hands in the air when she says, “jeez man. Didn’t know you guys were tight like that…”

And it’s stupid exchanges like this that make you appreciate her company by bounds. It’s lonely in the apartment when she’s out being famous; really nice to have her around for the holidays, albeit for a short time. It’s been a while since she’s been back. There’s much to catch up on over an 11 am brunch. You don’t know why she’s up so damn early today, cause normally you guys sleep till the late afternoon, then go figure out what to eat for dinner before lazing around in the apartment.

So with cheese falling from the corner of her lip, she gives you the latest developments in her life. Then it’s your turn, and you're glad to say that nothing’s really of interest in either of your updates. That’s usually for the better: sometimes the news you give each other can be a little heart-attack-inducing, so it’s better that your lives are pretty bland.

“You know,” she says as she wipes her mouth. “I might just keep dating you for your food,” she tosses her tissue onto the dining table and lets out a sigh. “Fucking delicious.”

You scoff and sip on your coffee. “Bet you told that to all the guys,” you reply wryly. “Probably gets them real excited, huh?”

She grins. It’s cheeky, mischievous, maybe even a little naughty. “Not telling.”

“You don’t tell me a lot of things,” you chuckle, and you’re low-key unsurprised to hear a little bit of unintended bitterness in your voice. “Not that it matters or anything… I just value communication.”

Oh, you’re petty. So fucking petty that it makes your skin crawl a little.

Miyeon’s unfazed. 

“Don’t get your tits in a tussle, pretty boy,” she muses. She folds her arms and leans into the table. “You’ll know more when I trust you more. For now: I’ll give you information as I please.”

And you kick yourself because you forget she can be a bit of a handful herself.

“Ugh, what will I ever do with this mysterious woman?” you smirk, resting your elbow against the table as you lean in as well. To be perfectly clear: you’re not mad at her. Her secrecy just bugs you out a little, and she knows it. “Such little knowledge on such a hardened beauty… must be tough to really crack her open and figure her out.”

You love her eyes, and you love to make them roll (in multiple contexts). They kinda gleam as she tilts her head. “Fine… I’ll give you something since you’re so damn desperate,” she drums her fingers against her cheek while her chin nestles itself into her palm. “What I’m about to give you is gonna change your life in so many ways. It’ll probably redefine your whole damn existence.”

You express your interest by leaning in a little more. Miyeon checks her six—like she isn’t in the comfort of her own home—before leaning in. She’s all clandestine. You have no idea what for. 

“You ready?” she checks. And you know she isn’t expecting an answer, but you nod nonetheless. She checks her left and right for good measure. You never know: maybe your lamp is listening.

“I’m aching for cock right now.”

And you guys don’t even make it to the couch.

It’s on the floor next to your table where she has your face in her hands, and she’s kissing you aggressively. She’s properly kissing you, and it makes you knock the back of your head against the floor a little, but it’s really not too big of a deal. 

She lifts her lips off yours and smirks. “For the record: it’s your fault that we aren’t fucking on the couch.”

“Yeah, and I actually paid rent early for once,” you shoot back sarcastically. “And would you mind helping me clean the yacht I most definitely own on my luxurious salary? Thanks a bunch, honey.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. She knows you’re full of shit, but she’s full of the same shit as you. Form a shit pile or something, maybe even a shit mountain if you feel like it. You could really go on for a while about how you two can talk for hours, but that’s not the main event.

The real deal comes when she has her hand beneath the waistband of your pants, slithering down to the very thing she aches for. She has that smile on her face, the one that kinda says “Oh I’m gonna love this” or “you’re gonna love this” or maybe even both. There are ways to distinguish the messages by looking at her eyes, but you’re a little too lazy to go figure it out right now. And before someone calls you a bum, you can’t help it: she has her hand on your cock and a piercing gaze trained on you. How about you try and focus on discerning implicit messages when there's a hot woman touching you in the right places?

“How are you hard already?” she asks, a hint of a giggle in her tone as she presses your shaft against your body. There’s barely any space down there, yet she makes it work so easily. “I didn’t even, like, do anything yet.”

“Well,” you hum, just as she starts to squeeze your member, appling that toe-curling pressure to your tip and smiling as you strain a little. “I can kinda see your tits through your shirt.”

Miyeon raises her eyebrows. She doesn’t even look at her shirt. “Oh?” and she starts to pump. “I didn’t notice that…”

“Totally,” you grunt. “Like how you don’t notice that your shorts are barely shorts?” you continue, but there’s something more bugging you. “And at least pull my pants down if you’re gonna jack me off, would you?”

Miyeon snorts, but compiles nonetheless. She gets your pants and boxers off with ease. It’s one swift motion (it’s practiced grace really), and she gets back to the task at hand before she was so rudely interrupted. 

“What does seeing my tits have anything to do with you?” Her motions are languid and fluid, steady and flowing like a stream. She doesn’t need to look. She doesn't need to guess. She knows you like the back of her hand. “Does it turn you on? Excite you?”

You have it in you to roll your eyes before they shut. “Stop asking these fucking ridiculous questions.”

“It's a basic inquiry.” She laughs in this aloof tone that you know is paired with the most devious of smiles. “So you won’t let me compliment you and you won’t let me ask questions? Tsk. Chivalry is dead.”

Miyeon goes a little faster, adds a twist of her wrist. This is just her hand, mind you, and it’s already ruining you in a way that only she is capable of. The tender touch of Cho Miyeon is something no woman you’ve met could ever replicate, and it takes you to places that you can only visit with her. Those fingers are magic, that mouth is magic—hell, everything about her is magic. 

“Please,” you manage to quip past the jolts of magic being sent through your system. “We both know that you have the answers to all the questions you just asked.”

She giggles—playfully, you might add. This is all a part of the game you play with her; this is the way Miyeon’s cookie crumbles. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Who cares?”

You care: not a lot, but enough to make this as humorous as you want it to be. You kinda only give two shits because it lets you be kinda petty with her, but not that you externalise it or anything. You just have it pent up in you for the fun of it.

“Anyway,” she muses, halting the strokes of her hand to your cock. “Have I told you about how much I wanted you to fill me while I was filming?”

You take a moment to breathe. “No… But do tell.”

And gets to that, but not before ridding herself of her shirt first. By technicality, it’s your shirt, but it shrunk in the dryer at some point, so it just became hers. She gets into the details, the nitty gritty; tells you exactly what she’s imagining during the filming of her Music Video all while you kind just sit there and ogle at her chest. She takes her time, covers the stuff that you don’t really need to know but it’s kinda hot to know — things like “ugh, I needed you to bend me over the hood of that car and just fuck me at that point…” — because you admittedly get off knowing that she ever thinks about you that way and… God, you’re rambling aren’t you? Still pretty fitting though: it’s the way Miyeon talks when she’s thinking nonsense.

“Ugh. Now I’m wet,” she mutters. She speaks as if it’s your fault that she went on rambling about her fantasies with you. “You know you make me like, really horny right?”

“Oh no… Whatever will I do?” you’re really just rolling with it. Not because you want to, but because you want to get this bit where you tease each other over and done with. It’s kinda like marinating meat in the way it makes the sex a little hotter. Truthfully: you’re aching for her. Really: you want nothing more than to just get her pinned beneath you and writhing on your wooden floor. 

And frankly? You could do all of that right now.

So it’s with a bit of grace (and some dexterity) that you flip the positions: now you’re kneeling over her while she is the one that lies on the floor, if that makes any sense. Miyeon isn’t shocked by your sudden movements, more so delighted by the fact that you finally gave in to your carnal urges and just went for it. She smiles, knowing full well that she’s done something that's gonna give her that fuel she needs for the week. You know: sex that’s the opposite of soft; some shit that fulfills some wild thoughts. 

“Gotta say, you’re quicker than usual,” she has that cocky smirk on her face. You wanna wipe it right off her face, and you know just how. “Normally you’re all talk, no– Oh…”

You like that it really only takes a finger pressed against her panties to shut her up. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make her shut her eyes and shut up for a moment. The spot you press on is damp, soaked in that sweet slick. Gently, you trace the outline of those swollen folds. “You were saying?”

She has it in her to laugh—a breathy chortle. “Fuck you.”

“I’m working on that,” you fire back. Your cock twitches a little when you see her jolt in response to your touch. Your finger pressed down on that one spot that makes her weak, and it really works wonders: an airy gasp slips past those thin, luscious lips. The number of times you’ve kissed those lips swollen is not a number countable with 10 fingers.

Miyeon sighs, and it’s a mix of pleasure and frustration in her breath that humors you. She relaxes into the floorboards, her hips rock, her cunt rubs against your fingers. She's searching for some friction — sweet release in lewd movements. You let her move for a bit, watch her shake like the bough of a willow tree as she pleases herself against your fingers. 

“Enjoying yourself?” you quip. 

“Yeah..” she hums. “Passing time while you’re still not taking these shorts off me.”

Of course… How could you be so forgetful?

You stop for a moment to help her wriggle out of her clothing. It isn’t one of her most graceful moments, but it quickly passes. The shorts join your pants on the floor. Her panties are pink — not that subtle shade of pink or even like a darker version of pink. It’s Barbie fucking Pink.

“So we’re feeling loud today, huh?” you ask, letting your finger trail the lacy parts of the fabric. Miyeon smiles.

“Sana gave them to me,” she explains, not the least bit sheepish that her damp spot is visibly darker than the rest of her underwear. “Hope this doesn’t affect you in your work or anything…”

You feel the corner of your lip turn up. “No, no… Of course not,” you assure her, all while you let your hand slip between the fabric and her skin. You can feel her shudder, then you feel the heat of her cunt at the tip of your fingers. “You caught me on the right day actually… Pink’s in my rotation of favourite colours this fine morning.”

“Right,” her voice has a lilt. It’s shuddering a little too. “I knew that… Definitely had that in mind.”

You laugh. Your index fingers slip between her folds. She moans. 

You lower yourself, capture a swollen, taut nipple in your mouth. The sweet suction you deliver makes her gasp. Her hand finds itself in your head.

It’s all quite rhythmical, almost like a routine for the two of you. The way your bodies react to each other feels so natural that you think it might just be second nature at this point. You know her body: you’ve memorised the dips and curves and tender spots; the hot spots, the warm parts and the best parts. She knows you—the way you think, the way you talk; the way you play with her and the things you want to do with her. It would be safe to say that you guys practically have PhDs in the subject of each other, but that’s not a fair statement because you’re both a little more complicated than you let on. That keeps the sex exciting; it makes you crave each other a little more than last time. 

“One or two?” you whisper, letting your finger dip in and out of her lips and getting it all wet in her slickness. She takes a moment to think, or maybe she’s taking a moment to really soak in the teasing. Either way: she takes some time to reply. 

“Two,” she shifts herself a little lower, her clit pressing into the base of your middle finger. It makes her sigh — a low, kinda sonorous escape of air through her lips. “I hope you trimmed your nails this time.”

“That last time was a minor mishap,” you admit. You kinda want to pull your hands out to double-check, but you’re too mired in the moment to assuage your worries. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control.”

She beams like the damn sun. “Good. I like it when you’ve got the reins.”

And that makes you suck in some air through your teeth. 

(God, does she know how to try you on.)

Your digits push themselves inside of her. They’re wrapped in her tight warmth, snug as a bug in a rug or whatever. You love the way her abs kinda flex as your fingers introduce themselves to her insides. It makes the best parts of her pop. Her chest rises a little more than the last time, her breaths becoming a little longer and more drawn out as your fingers explore her like always. The way she jolts when you get to that one spot at the roof of her pussy tells you that she has been primed and ready for this moment, loaded up like a shotgun and the trigger is really just any part of you that makes her cum. It could be your fingers, your tongue, your dick, your thigh—any part of you that can get her to that sweet high. Of course: you’re more than happy to assist. And so your mouth latches itself back onto her breast, tongue licking and swishing and flicking the swollen nipple atop her small yet generously sized breast. You relish the way it feels in your hand as you cup it—not too firmly and not too gently—and give it a squeeze, enjoying how the flesh spills out a little between your fingers but still fits in the palm of your hand.

“How do you only get better at this?” she hisses through her teeth. “I mean, I just saw you last week but… Oh god…”

You remove her nipple from your mouth. “Art is honed. This is art.”

She laughs, then throws her head back to let out a moan. “Well I’ll be damned,” her eyes close as she speaks, resting themselves for a bit so that she can enjoy the feel of your fingers in the best part of her slick. “Paint me like one of your French girls then.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now.

You can’t track the exact moments where she starts to blue screen on you, but you can guess it's somewhere between you pinching her nipple and when you slide a third finger into her. The pressure, the stretching—it’s, like, everything she wants as of right now. She lets out this choked-up cry that you like to hear, the supple curve of her back growing more defined as she arches just a little more. She doesn't hold back, she never does. When you’re making her feel good, you can bet some good money that she’ll let you know. She’ll find her own way to express herself, be it through sound or action or words—sometimes a combination of all three. 

The way she feels around your fingers—delicate squeezing and sweet pressure around your digits as they stretch her to new lengths—is nothing short of enthralling. You can feel her pulse around you, the dull throb of her heartbeat as it beats for the sole purpose of getting all that blood rushing into the right areas. Your hand is kinda messy, fingers coated down to your knuckles in the sweet substance from her heat. Miyeon starts to writhe, squirm. A whine leaves her mouth. It’s followed by another, and another, and another—keeps going till the whiny stream ends with a guttural moan. 

Her legs close around your wrist. Her throat bobs.

“Mmph… baby…” her hand flails a bit as she tries to search for you. She catches your shoulder and her nails dig in. “Your mouth… I want your mouth on me.”

You always loved how forthcoming she is. 

“Miyeon…” you drawl, and this next bit is really just for the fun of it. “What’s the magic word?”

She laughs softly through the pleasure, lets a smile grace your eyes. She doesn’t fight it; she wants it—wants you. She just wants you in any shape or form. Any version of you will do; she’ll take all the different sides of you in a heartbeat. All she needs is you. “Please.”

You’ve never found so much delight in hearing that word. Kinda makes you want to hear it again.

“I can’t hear you,” your thumb presses down onto her clit. Her thighs start to twitch. 

“Please!” she yells that magic word in the form of a shout this time. Your cheeks hurt from how widely you’re beaming.

You retract your fingers. They come up to your mouth so you can taste her off of them. She’s nothing short of delicious, and you can kinda tell that she knows it because she’s smirking as she watches you clean off yourself.

“How are we feeling about the samples?” she has that proud gleam in her eye. “Pineapple’s been in my diet as of late… Just wondering if anything’s different.”

You smack your lips. “Picking up on a little tang here… Can’t be sure though.”

Her hands slide down to her hips, thumbs hooking into the band of her panties and pulling them down her thighs. “No worries. There’s more where it came from.”

The gall of this girl is insane, you’re thinking, smirking as you assist the journey of her underwear down her slim, milky legs. Like all your other clothing, it’s tossed aside. 

Miyeon spreads thighs, bends her knees so that her feet are flat on the floor.  You get in position, let your palms slide down her body with careful consideration: run your hands over the sensitive parts of the stomach, skim that one portion of her inner thigh that makes her shiver. She watches—waiting and anticipating while failing to keep her excitement off her face. 

She is glistening, swollen and plump to your eyes, kinda far ahead considering that you just used your fingers. She’s eager, unashamed and more proud than embarrassed about her arousal. Her legs shift a bit. She looks at you, a fingernail between her teeth as she exhales sharply when your thumb traces the outline of her pussy, careful in its endeavor as you feel the muscles around her slick tense up in response. Oh she’s so damn impatient right now, but she lets you get away with all of this because it gets her off a little harder; the teasing is just part of the show and the climax will probably follow pretty soon, fast and hard

“You’ve been looking forward to this, huh?” you remark, watching as her eyelids flutter when you put a little pressure with the pad of your thumb. 

“Mhm…” she replies. It’s a low hum, one that resonates in her throat rather pleasantly. “You have no idea…”

You laugh. Your eyes roll towards the ceiling then set themselves back on her. “Please… We both know I have some idea,” you stop your thumb on her clit, and you begin to draw small circles around it. “You did tell me” —and you have to pause for a bit to use your other hand to press down on her pelvic area, stopping her from jolting her hips up to get that sweet sensation of your thumb rubbing her swollen nub. She whines a little, a soft plea following suit— “about all the things you wanted to do with me.”

She desperately tries to shift herself, press herself a little more against you. The smooth wooden floor hinders her, the lack of friction failing to aid her. Her brows furrow. She’s frustrated. “Yeah, well, if you know what I want so much, why aren’t you fucking getting to it?”

You wink. “Relax. I’m just letting the meat tenderise.”

“Oh shut it you fucking—  Mmmph!”

And the way you part her with your tongue, it’s like she’s butter and you’re a hot knife slicing her open. You're slow with it, and you don’t stop when Miyeon’s thigh stiffens against your palm, or when she squirms a little and almost got your tongue derailed from its track. You know what makes her tick, what makes her hit the octave and gets her nice and messy for you. If anything gets Miyeon going more than actually fucking—it’s definitely gotta be when you get your tongue on her folds. 

“You’re never gonna let me finish my sentences, are you?” she laughs breathily. You watch her abdomen as it rises and falls together with the quick breaths she takes.

“Dunno…” you nuzzle your face in her folds for a little, giving her time to say whatever she wants for a bit. “You did say that chivalry is dead.”

From your bottom up view of her, you can tell that she just rolled her eyes. “No comment. You won’t let my finish it any— oh my fucking god.”

Now it’s the flat of your tongue against her clit that stops her dead in her tracks. Her juices have begun to lather your tongue in their addictive taste, drawing you into her just a little more with each lap of your tongue. You suck on one of her folds, then your tongue is inside her, and she moans, her hand finding a spot on the back of your head that she can grip on to. She calls you crazy, calls you baby, runs her fingers through your hair. Your tongue dips in, circles, laps; your nose brushes against all the right spots of her skin and it draws out these almost sob-like, quiet sounds from her chest and she’s… Fuck, she’s amazing.

“I might take a while,” she whispers to you. You call malarkey, but play along nonetheless.

“Fuck yes,” your tongue swipes the entirety of her in a long, broad stroke. “Please, by all means princess. Take your time,” you don’t think you could ever sound as enthusiastic as you did right now. She pushes you down a little harder onto her slit, and you delight in how she squirms when you push your tongue a little deeper between her folds.

Her nails start to dig into your scalp a bit, and she starts pushing you down onto her cunt a little more.

“You know,” she speaks with this half-whisper-half-gasp, the type of tone that tells you that she’s fighting to stay in control of her own body. “I— mmph… Sometimes I lock myself in the changing room and just get off to the thought of you eating me.”

You suck on the other fold that you neglected earlier. “Oh yeah?” and you get a finger inside of her. She cries out, abdomen flexing deliciously as she turns pliant under the pressure of your finger getting a hold of that sweet spot. You can feel the heat—it feels like your skin is gonna melt. “Bet you get off real hard to it, maybe even harder than you will in like, two minutes.”

“Two?” she tries to sound a little defiant, but her voice is cracking and it’s really not working out in her favour. Your finger is barely pushing up by the way, yet it seems like she’s got thousands of pascals of pleasure weighing down on every part of her being. “Don’t put yourself on a fucking pedestal… I am nowhere close.”

You hum in reply, saving your energy to suck on her clit. And it’s almost like she’s spring-loaded in the way her thighs clamp around your ears immediately after. Her fingers eat into your scalp, a light, searing pain growing across your head as you kiss her right fold, then her left. You can tell that there’s liquid burning heat running through her body, spilling all over her. Miyeon tries to hold on, tries to prolong this for a little more by getting her nails deep in your scalp. But she’s falling apart, coming undone with each second.

“Baby.”

“One minute left,” you put your lips back around her clit. Her head thumps against the floorboards.

“I—can’t.”

“Ugh. Hate it when you lie.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Just fucking cum.”

And she ruins herself. She loses sense of the world for a bit—convulsing and twitching on the floor while you continue to lick her. No cry leaves her mouth; a strained, choked up phonic gets caught in her throat and refuses to dislodge. Her back arches, her thighs flex. Her world fades for a bit. 

Give or take: she takes a minute or so. When she gasps for air, you know she’s come back down to earth. You welcome her with a kiss to her abdomen as you rise up. Her cheeks are rubicund—flushed and making her glow as she smiles at you. She softly captures your cheeks in her hands.

“Okay,” she huffs, taking deep breaths as she strokes your face with her thumb. “Out of all the men I’ve dated: you can cook and eat the best.”

“Twenty dollars says that you’ve said that to at least four guys,” you muse. “Maybe five if I’m generous.”

She closes her eyes for a moment. Inhales. Exhales.

“Hand on my heart,” she uses one hand to push some hair out of her face. “I’ve only said this to you.”

Ignorance is bliss. Believing her is a sort of ignorance.

You willfully let yourself be blissful because you can.

--

(Then fast forward a little. Maybe like, three hours? Or however long it takes for you to have a nap and a shower to get ready to go out.)

“Are you seriously going out in that?”

And you have to stop at the door. You know that tone all too well.

“What is it this time?” you grumble, turning around to face the bed so that she can get a full biopsy of your outfit. It isn’t a bad outfit in your honest opinion, and you’re no stranger to horrible (unintentional) attempts at making fashion statements. Colour-blindness is a hereditary curse; it’s not your fault that you can’t tell that this shade of blue doesn’t work with that shade of grey and whatnot. “I swear I wore this a week ago and you said nothing.”

Miyeon slips out from under the covers. In your T-shirt, she saunters with purpose and urgency as she makes her way over. She stops in front of you and takes your tie into her hands. “It’s either you lose this tie or do something else to this already god-forsaken outfit.”

You consider the options for a hot minute. You’re kinda proud of this outfit—it took a lot of time and vetting through Miyeon to get it planned out and everything. The tie was kind of a staple piece—as important as the shirt or trousers. To hear that (in essence) you looked like shit admittedly dealt a blow to your ego, but why be petty when you can be cavalier?

“Whatever,” you reply, making no effort to stop her from trailing a nail up your shirt. “I couldn’t really care less about how this woman perceives me tonight. Not even into her anyway.”

Miyeon chuckles. The finger on your chest wraps itself around the top of your tie. “That’s an option as well,” she adjusts the knot, though it doesn’t look like she’s doing it to make you look better. “But can I give you one more alternative?”

“By all means, princess.”

She tugs on your tie, pulls you close. Your lips are just centimetres away from hers. You get a whiff of her scent. She’s using the shampoo you bought her. 

“Stay home,” she makes sure that her voice is kinda breathy, tickles your face as she lets the phonics dissipate into warm air. “Skip the date. You have a smoking hot girlfriend to fuck anyway.”

Oh and it takes you just about everything to stop you from grabbing her by the face and just kissing her. It's so easy: reach forward, get her face (or waist) in your hands and just smash her lips against yours. You know she’s thinking the same thing; but she’s waiting on you, anticipating what you’re going to do next. It’s a sick little game the two of you play, but it’s fun as hell and really doesn’t get boring in the near future.

“You know what my mom would say…” you begin, and you know she’s gonna stop you.

“Say you're sick”—bingo motherfuckers. She owes you five bucks—“tell her that you got the cold and so you can’t show up.”

“Expended on that one… And the work emergency one too,” you regretfully inform her. “And no: I will not be telling them that we’re actually a thing—“

“Cause you want to protect me and blah blah…” she interjects yet again, her fingers moving up and down, closing against her thumb in mimicry of a mouth moving. It’s petty, kinda frustrating—but it’s Miyeon. She’s a handful to deal with at times, but at least she’s your handful to deal with. “Been running the same jig for a little too long, tiger. I know your game.”

“I know,” you admit. “I’m a one-trick Pony and my carrot is you. What’s new?”

She chortles at that, and you take that moment to really get a good look at her because by god is she beautiful. Head-turner, eye-widener, heart-racer — not to be a bore, but again: it’s Miyeon. There’s a lot more about her that you could synthesize into words, but you won’t (not because you don’t want to or anything; but it’s more about the fact that you probably don’t have enough time to get someone to understand her.)

Cause here’s the thing (about her, you and both of you): she’s just as human as anyone, and that means she’s just about as complicated as anyone. You’ve got a story, she’s got her’s, and the two cross somewhere to form a midpoint before they start running parallel to each other before meeting again and running together and… You get it, don’t you?

No? Fuck. 

Okay. She may or may not be able to hold down a relationship; and you may or may not have been able to secure a relationship. You kinda get drunk with her over this revelation one night and you may or may not have joked over the fact that maybe you should get together. And then you may or may not have had the hottest sex you’ve had in years before you may or may not have realised that she’s the best thing to happen to you. It’s all kinda hypothetical to you cause you’re still processing the fact that this is all real. Still wondering if it’s a fling cause it’s only been about 3 months since this started.

(Calm down cupcake, no one likes a party pooper who prods on details in the midst of a story. It’s just… Ugh. The story behind how the two of you know each other is so boring and complicated—full of unnecessary exposition like this whole bit really. It hurts to retell it, so here’s a summary: she used to date your roommate, roommate moved out after they broke up, she stayed and hanged around you, here you are now. Fuck the details, there’s no room for it really. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.)

“Save the charisma,” she tells you, really putting on some breath behind her words. “I prefer it when you use it in bed.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now.

The kiss kinda blurs the line between passionate and sweet (if there even was a line to begin with). It’s quite aggressive, a little tender but also a wee bit emotional. It makes you a little bitter, but don’t get it twisted: you love this girl with all your heart and you’d do anything to stay with her. It’s just that you’d love—more than anything—to lose the shirt and pants you’re wearing to make out with her, and then let things flow as they do. Unfortunately, your parents really want you to meet this girl, and you have to get going or you’ll probably get cut from the will or something.

She tries again. “Stay…”

“Miyeon—”

“I fucking need you… Please.”

It’s just so fucking tempting…. But there are only so many lines you can cross before you find yourself in trouble with border patrol. And if there's anything you hate more than lectures, it’s lectures from your mother.  

Her lips graze yours, hovering just millimeters away. She wants to kiss you—bite your lower lip and pull you into an undoubtedly sloppy lip lock. That will end with your hand somewhere on her body that gets the ball rolling (and we all know where that ball goes). She has it in her to do it; she has the right, the means and the fucking autonomy (and audacity). She’s just waiting on you, seeing what happens when she plants the seed of an idea in your head and waters it a little. 

Unfortunately for her, you’re too damn terrified of your parents to let that seed grow.

“I‘ll see you later,” you whisper, albeit a little reluctantly. “Call me if anything comes up.”

She understands that she’s lost. Doesn’t stop her from giving you that kiss though. “Don’t keep me waiting tonight… I love you.”

Ugh. She’s one hell of a woman, isn’t she?

--

So get this: this woman that your mother found for you is possibly the most boring person you’ll ever meet. She’s beautiful and all, but she has the personality that has just about the same amount of flavour as food in the west before spices.

She spends the meal talking about her job, and you kinda just fix her with a hundred yard stare and tune out. You couldn’t give a shit about computer security really—never was and never will be into that shit. It doesn’t help that your phone is kinda blowing up at the moment. It’s buzzing all over your thigh in your pocket. Pretty trippy, kinda makes you wonder if Miyeon had just slipped one of her vibrators into your pocket.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom at some point. You’re not sure how long she’s been yapping your ear off for, but it kinda doesn’t matter. All you’ve gotten from this meal is really just a handful of nonsense and a migraine. 

Anyway: it’s in the confines of the bathroom store that you check on the ruckus in your pocket. The screen lights up and you find that the spasming of your phone was caused by a combination of posts from a news outlet and from Miyeon. She takes precedence over the news.

Miyeon//8:01 pm: I swear to you I have no idea what’s going on 

Miyeon//8:01 pm: I’m getting this at the same time as you

Miyeon//8:02 pm: I don’t know what’s happening. Please come home.

And the way you open your news app almost instantly makes you feel like you’re all too familiar with this. It’s not a headline, but it might as well be from the way it makes your eyes widen and your breath stop for a second. 

You blink. You blink again. 

The words don’t change. 

Suddenly, you have a valid reason to get out of this dinner.

(How you get home is a little fuzzy, but that’s not really the important part. 

What? The headline? Oh you know it, don’t you cupcake? It was literally the only thing on people’s minds for some reason, as if an idol dating an actor is something unheard of.)

“What the fuck?” you ask when you step through your apartment door.

She sighs as you remove your coat and hang it behind your door. “Look… I’m just as confused as you are—”

“An actor?” you interject. You’ll admit that it’s a little rude, but you’re really just trying to make sense of this as fast as possible. “How long have you known this guy?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t,” she huffs. “I swear to you, hand on my heart and the other on the bible, I am not in love with that man.” She says. “I barely even know the fucker, never talked to him in my life.”

It’s a little hard to look at her right now. You have lots of things to say; lots of feelings and lots of thoughts. If you’re really gonna be honest with yourself: you’re scared, hurt and a little confused. Miyeon’s good at lying—a little too good for your liking. Pair that knowledge with your insecurities, and congrats: you’ve just given birth to multiple insecurities. They’re like little demons running amok in your chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

You can’t do this with her now. Not when all this is all so fresh and new. 

But she catches your arm as you try to walk past her. Her grip is firm, pleading. 

“Please,” she utters, letting her hand slide down your arm to let her fingers wrap around your hand. “Trust me on this.”

You want to. You really want to. And so it hurts you to ask, “Am I just another fling?”

You can see it in her eyes when she realises the motivation behind the question. She doesn’t take long to come to the epiphany—just a little less than a second before her eyes soften and her lips part a little. Her expression scares you. You want to run from this all together and leave it to another day, but God knows that you won’t be getting any sleep with this weight in your head. It’s comical, almost hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that it’s your relationship with her on the line.

You like to think that she can’t express her answer into words, so she kisses you instead. You’ll never know why she chose to kiss you, but it's sweet and so powerful that you can kinda live with that gap in your knowledge. You may or may not have teared a little, and you may or may not have melted into her lips a little too quickly. What you can say for certain: when you find yourself back in those eyes, panting with your face between her hands—the words ‘I love you’ escape your mouth faster than you can think. You don’t say it for the sake of it; you say it cause you mean it. You want her to know that you’ll fight for this relationship, that you’ll fight for her.

And it makes her smile. 

“I’m like, in love with your goofy ass,” she mutters, thumb tracing a path along your cheek. “So don’t you ever think that I’d drop you for some slick-back fuck face.”

That’s more than enough for you. Her smile is contagious as you hold her waist. “Crude. I love you, Miyeon.”

“Yeah. I heard you the first tim—”

Of course: you don’t wait for a finished reply to kiss her. It’s a practice, almost a common tongue at this point.

Miyeon lets her hands fall, gets her arms around your neck while you reacquaint your lips with hers. She’s lovely, fucking divine and maybe even a little addictive—straight up dangerous if you’re to sum it up. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being manipulated, and it’s really only for a second because she’s got her teeth in your bottom lip and she’s dragging them towards her. She wants more—more of you and less of this need to prove her love. She touches your chest, palm flat against your flesh as she deepens the kiss. Ignorance is bliss. Believing her is a sort of ignorance. Kissing her deepens that ignorance, makes you all the more blissful.

“I need you,” you breathe, unashamed by your blatant desire to have her right now. Really: you can’t get enough of her smell right now. “Please Miyeon… Let me be the only one.”

She smiles softly. She runs her fingers through your hair. “Baby, you already are.”

You press your forehead against hers. “I know. But can we just…”

You can’t really verbalise what you want out of this. You want Miyeon, but you don’t just want the idea and concept of her. You long for that connection with her, that union and that closure, not just some fleeting, superficial feelings. This woman is quite literally one of your dreams. It’s selfish to say this, but you want that security—something tangible to know that you’re really hers and she’s really yours, a piece of her that you can hold on to that helps rid your heart of those little demons. You hope she can understand this through your closed eyes.

And something about the way she fixes your hair tells you that she does.

“It’s okay,” she assures you, her other hand finding that one spot on your chest. It feels like it’s touching your heart directly, calming it. “I get it,” her fingers wrap around the knot of your tie, loosening it till it unravels completely. “You’re hurt and scared. Frankly, so am I.”

Miyeon wraps the tie up neatly in her fist. Her hands cross over each other as she reaches down to grab the hems of her shirt. It slips off her, a layer peeled away. Then the tie rolls down from her hand. 

“I want you to know”—she drapes the tie around her shoulders, the thin portion ever so slightly shorter than the broader portion as they hang on either side of those perky mounds—“I will do everything I can to protect you and us.”

She tosses the smaller end across her body, cloth flying over her left shoulder and dangling behind her arm. The broader end is wrapped around her neck—once, twice. 

Miyeon steps closer and takes your hand. The broad end of the tie gets slotted into your palm. 

“And even though I might have to be seen with him,” she coos, and she’s a little clumsy as she reaches for the thin end behind her, but she gets it on her second or third try. “Even though I might have to hold his hand in public,” she slips it between her skin and the loop she’s made, ties it off. “You should know: I am yours.”

She shocks you into silence as always. You know what she’s insinuating. You know that she knows what she’s insinuating. Your eyes search her for consent, and you find that it’s the only thing you can make out behind the veneer of a tender gaze. She checks the makeshift leash she’s made. It’s not coming off anytime soon.

You wrap some of the tie around your hand. Your fingers close around the silky fabric. 

(Just so we’re clear: the tie may look horrible on you, but she looks amazing in it.)

You pull.

And it’s just that. 

Clothes come off, lips meet, sighs fly through the room. Her hands explore you, grab you, pump you; your kisses find the best parts of her, the parts you love the most and the parts she loves attention at. The tie never leaves your hand, and you give it a tug or two when you get your digits in her on the couch. You’ll never forget the way she looks when her head is forced up just after it whips back, the glassy look in her eye as she begs for you, keens for you. Never in your life has anything this debauched been so intimate. You’ve never heard sighs out of you and her so luscious. 

“Princess,” you quite literally growl as you address her. It’s not necessary, but the squelching of your fingers in her slick brings out something in you—a part of you that’s wild and somewhat untamed. “I fucking love the way you moan.”

Miyeon bites down on her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah? She husks, her eyes going half-lidded in pleasure when you get your fingers in the same, soft, tender spot on the roof of her pussy. “It’s all for you. Ngh— A-All yours…”

And you don’t know how you can not believe her at this point.

You pull at the tie. She almost straightens completely. You kiss her. Her moans send pleasant vibrations down your windpipe.

It’s all so perfect. And it somehow gets even more perfect when she cums—waves of heat burning through her system; eyes shut and mouth agape; hands around your neck and your name spilling from her lips in a mix of curses (that mostly contain the word ‘fuck’); body convulsing and twitching in ways that make a low grunt emerge from the depths of your chest as you watch her. She’s beautiful—your beautiful princess.

When it’s over, you let the tie go slack. She crashes against the couch, forcing air back into her lungs with deep breaths. There’s sweat on her face, her body. Your hand finds its place on her tummy as you place small kisses on the corner of her lip, her jaw. Her skin is moist and sticky.

“Have me,” and it’s more so of a demand than a request. “Take me. However you want, wherever you want,” she runs her hands through your hair, “You’re the only one I want.”

You let out a low hum. It lightly vibrates at the base of your throat as you catch her earlobe between your lips. 

“Has anyone told you how fucking beautiful you are?” you can’t help but ask. She searches your face or a minute, then she chortles.

“About half the world,” she replies. “But it means the most coming from you.”

(Oh… That line really means the fucking world to you.)

You kiss her, hard. It’s messy, sloppy, and at some point you guys are scrambling to get on top of each other. She wins at one point, and so she rides you—dropping and rising hard and fast on your cock like a lewd merry-go-round carriage. She’s relentless, letting your cock fill her while she blanks out and just lets herself cry and moan like you don’t have thin walls in your apartment. You let her please herself, throw herself down onto your cock again and again till you decide that it’s your turn to have some fun. The tie is your friend, and you use it to pull her real close to not too kindly hiss your instructions into her ear. 

You’d kill to see the look in her eyes again.

And so you have her against the nearest wall in less than a minute, her back flushed against it and one of her legs bent in the crook of your arm. She reaches between your bodies, grabs your throbbing shaft and rubs your tip against her slit. You feel the heat of her pussy—the desire and depravity that burn in her core. You can’t believe she’s yours.

“I’m gonna put this in me,” she narrates her course of action, all breathy and silky. “It’s gonna fill me, fuck me… Maybe even cum in me.”

“I wouldn’t get ahead of ourselves here,” you whisper, your hand wrapping itself back in the fabric of the tie. “That last part? I dunno… Seems a little optimistic, don’t you think?”

She pushes your head in between her folds—not all the way, but enough to part them. “And why is that?”

You pop your hips, push yourself in a little more. She inhales sharply. 

“I only cum inside good girls.”

The smile that creeps its way onto her face is wicked.

“Trust me,” her hand finds purchase on your shoulder, pads of her fingers digging into the muscle. “I’ll be the best you ever get.”

She puts her weight onto the leg in your arm. You slide into her.

And you both take a moment to enjoy the unity—the feeling of the two of you being joined as one; your out of sync heartbeats that feel like pattering raindrops around your shaft. You want to say something witty, a quip that will get a nice chuckle out of her.

All you can really manage is, “Fuck.”

And in response: “Talk less. Fuck more.”

You draw back, push in. There’s the sopping sound of your shaft going in and out of her, wet pushing into warm flesh. You groan. She sighs. 

Tight, hot, wet, divine.

And it goes without saying: when you pick up the pace, she lets you know that she loves the feeling—the stretching, the filling, the push and pull. It comes to you in the form of pure filth: words that have very little consideration for propriety and no room for decency, something along the lines of “I can’t believe you feel this good. I can’t believe this cock is mine” or “That’s it. Keep filling me. Keep fucking— Oh” or maybe even a mix of both. You can’t be certain, because between you and her, you both know that the undulating of your cock into her tight, creamy heat and the almost torturous pressure around your dick is taking you under by the second. It’s not hard to lose yourself in her when she’s basically a little piece of you. 

Like always, she let her pleasure be known through desperate noises and choked up words. “Keep going, please, fuck—don't stop,” and it sounds like it hurts but you know it’s the other way around. Her pleasure coated tongue makes the lust in her words undeniable, her half-lidded eyes ruining the argument that she’s in any pain whatsoever. You yank on her tie, her body curves closer. You need a better look at that face.

(Trust me, it’s a face you don’t want to forget. 

For lack of a better word: it’s porny as fuck.)

It's a blissful dance – the rhythmic, almost metronomical give of her thighs as you slide yourself home again and again steadily and firmly. The smacking of sweaty and sticky skins colliding is almost evenly paced, sighs and grunts filling the spaces between slaps. She follows your lead, rocks her hips accordingly, angles herself and adjusts so that she can feel you in the deepest parts of her cunt. You lift her leg a little higher, spear yourself a little deeper. You listen to your body, she listens to hers. You give in to your desires.

You don’t mean to blurt it. You don’t mean to make the sex more complicated than it already is. But it happens—it fucking happens and you can’t stop it. 

“I love you,” your voice is nothing more than a rasp. She feels so fucking good around you — squeezing, pulsing and doing every little thing that makes your jaw tighten and you legs tense. “I fucking love you, Miyeon.”

She holds your gaze, then smiles, then nods. She nods vigorously, enthusiastically. “I know… It’s all I’ve ever known.”

Your hand on the tie releases it from your grasp. You catch a bouncing breast in your hand, squeeze the tight and taut nipple with your fingers. The tie shakes violently like a snake writhing, bouncing and swaying with each firm impact against Miyeon’s skin. She mewls, pulls you in, kisses you. She lets herself come undone with her chest flushed against you and your hearts aligned as she lets the cries transfer from your mouth to hers. You pump yourself faster, harder, faster, harder. Your finger digs into the flash near her knee. Your blood is boiling, molten metal spilling over and washing over you—gold rush, acid flux, saturating you in this bliss that numbs you out. You can’t tell where your thrusts start and end. They’re blurred by the heat washing over your eyes. You can’t get enough. The way you fuck her—it feels relentless, merciless, a fire that only burns brighter and can’t be put out, fuelled by the heat of Cho Miyeon flushed against you and the sublime squeeze of her slick heat. Everything about this is hot; everything about her is hot. 

“Don’t you ever let me go,” she hisses. “Fuck— don’t ever leave. This cock is mine. You are mine.”

“Princess, I’d never,” you nuzzle yourself into the crook of her neck, pepper her nicely with kisses. “You. Only you.”

“Yeah,” and her breath is hot on the nape of your neck. “Cause I can’t ever fucking imagine anyone else filling me this fucking good. No one has ever filled me this good.”

And her fricatives feel like acid: Aqua Regia—melting straight through solid gold just to get to you. It makes you burn a little hotter, fuck her a little harder. Your heart burns at the thought of her; your brain melts at the sight of her—glassy-eyed and mouth agape while cock pumps her full of pleasure and want. She finds a spot on your shoulder, whispers her proclamation of love— “I love you I love you I love you— Fuck—”—before she buries her face into your shoulder blade. Her love is an animal call, cutting through the darkness and bouncing off the walls, reaching a soft spot in your heart that you hold for her. Nothing in this world is gonna stop you from turning her into a messy little fucktoy. 

It’s hard to think. It’s hard to breathe. She’s become your world, the only thing you ever want to think about. Anything that isn’t her tight little pussy is irrelevant; what isn’t her thin lips pressed against your shoulder is invalid; no pair of eyes will ever match the glassy, lust-fogged ones that Cho Miyeon possesses. Your pulse is rushing, your head is reeling, your face is flushing. You want her—all of her. You suck hard on the milky skin you’ve caught between your lips, marking her, claiming her. She has no qualms nor worries; she tilts her neck to give you better access to that lovely patch of skin that becomes your canvas. She mewls, presses her forehead harder into your body, grounding herself in the sensation of her skin on yours. 

“I’m gonna fucking fill you, Miyeon,” you drawl. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy and make a mess out of you,”

“Yeah, yes,” she’s barely holding it together at this point. “Please. Oh god please.”

Your hips move on their own now, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you pump yourself into Miyeon with the sole goal of piping her full of your hot seed. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into her in a mindless, fervent fashion, giving in to your desires and your depravity and fucking her like she’s a doll. You relish the feel of her skin in your palms; the feel of her hands pressed against your chest; the sheer, strained phonetic atrocities that rise from the depths of her throat. Your shaft glistens in the light of the room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her hot cunt, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weaker by the second. Miyeon cups your cheek, moans your name. You bury your nose deep in those silky locks of jet black hair. You need every last part of her to be close to you.

She's whimpering, eyes squeezed shut, toes clenching; she’s a coiled up spring, a bundle of nerves waiting to be released. Her bottom lip is between her teeth, her throat bobs. She's coming undone, breaking a little more with each thrust of your cock. You know that she’s cumming before she announces it, and when you fuck her over the point of no return, it’s bliss.

Miyeon melts, head whips back and thumps against the wall, positively combusts on the spot and ceases to hold on to the last bits of herself. She lets herself fall through the pleasure, orgasm almost ripping through her system as she shakes in your grasp. She’s such a precious thing, yet she can look like lust itself when she’s busy cumming all over your cock and whining like her life depends on it. She’s tighter, wetter, even better to fuck. 

She really is the best you’ll ever have.

“Miyeon–”

“Just fucking cum.”

Your line; same effect. You fill her, make a creamy mess of her cunt because you can. You fuck her through it, push your load deeper with each thrust. Your cock pulses, spasms, shoots load after load after load into her pussy till you can’t take it anymore and jitter to a halt, and there’s nothing left but a filthy mess flowing out at the base of your cock where her lips are splayed the widest. It’s a sight for sure. 

(And there really isn’t a word for the moment that the two of you share in that wrinkle in time, that moment where it’s just all warm and fuzzy and you have your forehead pressed against hers.)

You cradle her in your arms, kiss her chest, her jaw, her lips. It’s tender, it’s gentle.

“We’ll figure this out,” she pants through closed eyes. “I promise you: you and me, we’re gonna figure this all out.”

Somehow, you don’t doubt it.

--

(Still here? Great. We’re getting to the good part. Get your special sock out or something.)

So the newest rage of the K-pop scene is the photo of Miyeon kissing him in a car.

It's a publicity stunt—the whole damn relationship. They are supposed to appear in love according to Miyeon, and it was his idea to kiss her. She never consented and he just did it. It’s a pretty lewd photo: up close and personal and all. You can see his lips on hers, his hand on her breast and they’re like, clearly getting it on in three. Pretty steamy if you do say so yourself,

(...)

Oh fucking hell. Who are you kidding describing this photo like you’re just viewing an artwork. It makes your blood boil, and speaking to her after seeing this photo feels like dancing to alarm bells when you feign ignorance and just talk with her like it’s a normal Wednesday. You’re gonna hurt yourself at this rate, but she really means too much.  

She told you that he forced his lips on hers, you believe her to the best of your ability. You kiss her, tell her it’s okay, that she’s doing what she has to do to protect the two of you. She says she’s sorry, that she feels like she’s failed you. You kiss her again—albeit a little half-hearted—and assure her once more that it’s okay. You want to nurse her pain, but you also have your own problems to deal with.

And as if this fucking actor hasn’t interfered enough with your relationship, he has the audacity to call during the make up sex.

Her phone starts to ring when she’s on her hands and knees on your bed, and you’re fucking her into the mattress like she’s some pliant plaything. There's a rage inside you that hasn’t been quenched, and you don’t realise that it’s bringing out that dark side of you till you spank her ass a little harder than you intended to. It doesn’t help that you kinda twitch when you hear her yelp, and it really doesn’t help when she tightens after the second spank. The phone only continues to vibrate next to her head.

“Baby,” she rasps. “My phone…”

“Pick it up,” you hiss. “Pick it up and let whoever the fuck it is hear how you’re being fucked like a slut.”

Degradation has never really been a kink of yours, but you know she’s kinda into it. Even so, you’re not calling her a slut because you consciously want to. You feel like an asshole for being angry, kinda hate yourself a little for not being able to accept that she’s doing what she needs to do. And then you kinda hate her for making you hate yourself and— Ugh. It just gets more complicated the more you try and rationalise it. You can’t stop the hot blood from coursing through your system, fuelling your firm strokes into her tight heat like you’re trying to inject all the hate in your body into her. 

Her hand that was once clawing at the sheets now reaches for her phone. You keep thrusting as she flips it over, keep thrusting as she shows you the caller ID, keep thrusting as she looks back at you with a gaze that says “are you sure?”. You hope she isn’t met by that dark look you often see when you look at yourself in the mirror after a new headline about them hits your screen. It’s funny how one person can flip the idea of make-up sex on its head—turn it from something so tender and beautiful to a spite-fuelled fuck fest that’s gonna make things more complicated. She hasn’t even picked up the fucking phone, but you can hear his sick voice in your head as you drive yourself deeper into her cunt, fuck her harder and faster than you knew you could. She’s in no state to answer the phone, yet her finger taps on the ‘accept call’ button. 

(She would’ve rejected it if she could, but she got into some deep shit the last time that happened. Must’ve been threatened or something for her to pick up the phone while she’s getting fucked.)

“Hello?” she does her best to steady her voice, and she’s doing pretty well considering how loud the smacking of skin against skin is. She presses the phone a little tighter against her left ear. You don’t intend on stopping. Let him hear her being owned by you for all you care. “T-This is a bad… a bad time.”

Damn straight it is. 

Your hand caresses the curve of her ass. You spank her again, making sure that it’s loud and it leaves a red patch on her smooth, creamy skin. She contacts around you, gasps a little as you bend down and pin her down with your weight on her back.

“W-What?”—and it feels like she’s talking to both of you. You hiss into her other ear. “I’m going to fuck you like this,” your voice is actually a snarl, a dark one. Your body is energized by the promise of taking and ravaging the helpless, prone woman beneath you, your words dripping with loathing and your thrusts brimming with spite. “I’m going to fuck you hard and rough, and you’re gonna keep him on the fucking line so he can hear it.”—“No I’m… Jogging.”

She’s terrible at lying. You let her know through each thrust—hard and deep, uncaring for her pleasure or her comfort or anything other than your need to bury yourself again and again inside her body. There’s the need to dominate her, the need to make her yours. You hope this guy can act like he doesn’t care that his supposed girlfriend is being prone-boned by another guy, act like he isn’t totally aware of the fact that Cho Miyeon’s body is never gonna belong to him at any point as long as you’re alive. 

(Keep this between us: but with the way you're going down on her, it feels like the message is being transferred to her and not him.)

You hear indistinct chatter. Miyeon bites down on her lower lip, undoubtedly holding back the stream of cries and sighs and lyrical monstrosities that threaten to burst forth. With her eyes she begs, challenges you to do more. You could be reading her wrong by like, a hundred percent. Doesn't matter, not when you can take every liberty with her body because you couldn’t give more of a shit. There’s more indistinct chatter on the other end of the phone; Miyeon says something along the lines of “no. Don’t buy the choker for me”. You give her a choker—raise yourself up and reach around her to wrap your fingers around her throat. Her whole body tenses when you apply pressure around her windpipe. In no universe does this guy not know what’s going on right now.

Cause she’s there—right there, all choked up and struggling to breathe while the fucker keeps yap-yap-yapping away like he’s some fucking guard dog. It irritates the hell out of you. At some point, he kinda has to hear a squelch or smack or two, maybe even a moan or a cry as well. But he stays on the phone, and not once does Miyeon ever have to address the question of whether she’s being fucked on the other end of the call or not. You thought you were ignorant, but this guy is a whole new fucking level of blissfully ignorant. It feels like his sole purpose is to drive a wedge between the two of you, to make you hate her because you hate him. Again: it’s kinda complicated to say exactly what it feels like to be in this situation. 

And you can imagine the moans she wants to let out. They’ll tumble out of her lips like water down a waterfall, and they’ll mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you lean back down to kiss her neck, stopping at one spot that you know will be good to mark her and sucking hard. It feels like getting back at her—doing all the things you want to do while she can't speak her mind freely (and you know how tortuous it is for her when she can’t moan while she’s being railed like this). You’re not sure why you would ever need to get back at her when she’s done nothing wrong, but I guess it helps to synthesise and dumb down the emotions you’re feeling at the moment.

“Tonight?” she asks. Then she buries her head into the sheets because she can’t hold back this moan that almost explodes from her chest. You’re not squeezing really hard around her throat, mind you—only enough to make her a little uncomfortable, like a tie has been wrapped around her neck. She's getting off on it though: her walls squeeze you a little tighter; her breaths become more ragged and short. Honestly, she's taking your cock so well, and you communicate this to her with a growl. It makes her shudder a hell lot. 

Her other hand clutches the sheets, spasms. She’s pliant, she always is, but it feels like you can wrack her tiny body with so much more pleasure as you keep a hand around her throat and keep your dick pumping in and out of her. You wish you had a mirror to see that pretty face warping under the heat of her lust. You kinda forget that she’s still calling him when she speaks again, cause she follows up with, “I can’t— I can’t believe…”

And if that damn phone call wasn’t happening, she’d be saying something along the lines of “I can’t believe that you’re fucking me this good”.

“Sorry. I got cut off,” she pants. “Yeah… It’s harder to hear me when I’m running.”

Now she's talking to you. The reply is to him, but she’s addressing you. You take her up on it, and the slapping and squelching start to ricochet off the walls and ceiling. What you’re doing should be considered as a whole sin in itself. Technically, it’s adultery, but you’re not too sure if you can even classify this as something that simple. This is jealousy, hate and love mashed into one—a mix of things that kinda shouldn’t go together when you have a woman who’s quite literally like putty beneath you. It doesn’t help that she's this hot, this tight, this wet. She’s straining her moans, and it’s so cute that you want to choke her a little harder. You don’t do it (just clarifying some doubts here), but you almost do. 

“R-Really?”—you’re almost certain that what comes next is gonna be addressed to you. You can imagine her signing your name off on it—”wow… That must be so fucking good.”

Bingo. Gotta say: she’s kinda smooth with it.

“I’m fine. Out… Out of breath” you don’t know how she manages to keep her voice steady. “Y-yeah… I’m gonna come… Don’t worry.”

You hope that she can hold on.

You don’t know how long more you fuck her for while she’s on the phone. It’s a blur; you kinda only see red and you’re still choking her out even after she hangs up. It’s only when she goes, “Oh, fuck, daddy—!” with this breathless, perverse, pleading tone and a voice that’s so loud; her body unable to do anything other than gasp and moan and urge you to really give it to her, and when she says “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” like you’re not doing just that (and only that) at the moment that she’s hung up on him. Now she has every facility available to focus on the rock hard meat she’s receiving. You feel filthy, like you’re doing something wrong.

But hey: the sex is hot and Miyeon’s kinda into it, so you keep going. You keep fucking her into the bed—the same way you would if you were fucking her against the wall or in the shower or against any flat surface, really. It’s twisted, it’s dark, it’s hot; the angle her body is at lets you drive yourself deeper and faster and harder into her wet, tight and hot pussy like you never have before. You’re experiencing a novelty, a new chapter.

(Caveat: is it kinda messed up that you call her a cocksleeve? Not really? Huh.)

“God Miyeon…” you feel like the voice that comes from your throat is not your own. “You’re such a good fucking cocksleeve for me,” and you may or may not be tightening the grip around her throat as you speak. “So tight and wet for me. You’re such a good fuck.”

“Oh daddy, fuck you’re so big and deep in me,” she gasps. She has lots to say, even though air is like a fucking luxury for her. She rarely calls you Daddy, yet she’s using her precious air to do so now. “Fuck, fuck me as hard as you can, daddy! Do whatever you want with me! Own me! Take me!”

You barely recognise the woman she’s become: depraved, sordid and one hell of a hot mess. You love it. It’s fantastic. Fucking fantastic.

And she falls apart under you not long after, writhing and moaning and twitching as this beautiful mess of a woman you’ve made out of her. You want to cum in her, really own her; but your thoughts are fueled too much by the hate in your heart that they're wilder than anything she can ever imagine. 

You pull out of Miyeon, your shaft glistening in the dim light. You get off the bed, pull her away with you. Her mouth opens to say something. You kiss her—shut her up. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention.

“You’ve gotten enough loads inside your pussy,” you husk. “Get on your knees. I want your mouth.”

She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You push down firmly on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Miyeon on her knees with her pretty little princess face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you paint her face in a messy spray of cum. 

And you know what? You’ll do just that.

Of course, Miyeon perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth, grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other. The pace she launches into is hard and fast; blurring her chocolate hair and your vision—taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with rapid urgency while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, the seal sublime; and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. She’s gorgeous, even more so when she’s got cock in her mouth.

Your hand finds a clump of her black, sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. You push her head down onto your cock, pop your hips and start thrusting with firm, slow strokes. She exceeds every expectation you ever had, adapting to you, changing to please you. Your eyes shut involuntarily. Your brain blocks out all sensations that aren’t the wet, hot cavern of Miyeon’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. The backstroke is somehow even better, that pretty little mouth endeavoring to suck you right back in when you draw yourself back out. It feels like time stands still, but Miyeon’s still in motion, and she’s the one making you feel like all the natural laws in the world are being defied.

A small part of you knows that you have to see it happening in order to truly believe it’s all real, so you force your eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Smoky eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you, watering, projecting perverse pleasure with a gaze; hollow cheeks and a seemingly unhinged jaw to accommodate your length; spit leaking from the corners of her mouth, dribbling down her chin.

“Fuck I—” is all you manage to say (or maybe ‘grunt’ is a better word) before your orgasm takes the reins to your body. It overwhelms your senses, but you force your eyes open to watch as you pull Miyeon off your dick just in time. Thick, glistening cum erupts from your tip to land on Miyeon’s face, on her cheeks and nose, painting her smoky features with pearlescent, warm ropes. You paint her face with your hot white seed, and it’s far from an elegant piece of art. She doesn’t look anything like one of the French girls she wanted to be painted like, but the look of utter lust on her needy features is still breathtaking—mouth open, tongue out, eyes closed in delight and bliss.

Ugh, she's one hell of a woman, isn’t she?

And when it’s all over, she takes your cock in her hand and licks off the drops that she’d been deprived of. 

“If you ever do that again.” you love the raspy touch to her voice. The lilt in it is doing wonders too. “I’m gonna make sure that you’ll be calling your mom the next time I blow you.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “Whatever you say, princess…”

The hate seems to fade. Your heartbeat slows.

Maybe this relationship is salvageable. Maybe you guys can last.

You talk to her about it afterwards and apologise sincerely. She says that she didn’t think much of it when it was happening. Then you guys are at peace again.

(What do you think? How long does the honeymoon last? A month more? 

Two?

Generous.

Try one. Fucking. Week.)

--

“Okay. Hands down: this is the best Jjamppong I’ve eaten.”

The growing pile of clam shells beside her bowl tells you that you did something right. It’s the first time you've made this dish, and there’s always that lingering worry that you fucked up somewhere along the way when you eat it for the first time. The soup seasoning is a little off in some places (you don’t know where exactly), but it’s nothing a dash of fish sauce and some chilli flakes can’t fix.

“I mean,” Miyeon continues, speaking between small yet generous mouthfuls of noodles. “You only get better and better at cooking. I don't know how you do it.”

You give a half-hearted smile. Your noodles have kinda gone cold by now: you’ve been stirring them around with your chopsticks for the past five minutes or so. Appetite has become a luxury for you these days, and it’s one of those days where a new article about him and her comes out, one of those days where you both agreed to put a pin on it and just enjoy life. “Well… It’s a lot of love and care, I guess.”

“You can say that again,” she smiles. “Thank you for making dinner. No one cooks like you.”

“Thank you for cutting scallions,” you say. “No one cuts them like you do.”

She laughs and waves it off, then takes another slurp of her noodles. “I honestly don’t know if I like your tomato soup over this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. My tomato soups have always been the peak of my cooking prowess.”

“I really don’t know!” she tells you, grabbing another clam from the centre of the table. “This stuff is all smoky and tasty… It just feels like home and I—”

You drop your chopsticks into your bowl. Soup splashes onto the table.

“How do I keep living like this, Miyeon?” you ask. There are only so many pins in your possession and you feel like you’ve used all of them. “I’d love to sit here and talk to you about how I made this meal like everything’s okay, and this is just Thursday and maybe we’ll get ice cream later… But it’s not like that right now.”

Miyeon takes your hand in hers. 

“I can’t pretend like things are the same when everything’s… different,” you close your eyes, take a breath. “I love you, Miyeon. You’re like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me and… I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

You can hear her take a breath to start speaking. You really want to let her, but there’s too much on your chest. 

“I know you’re doing what you have to, for me, for us,” you want—oh so badly––to just bury your face in your hands right now. But once you do that, the tears will inevitably come and your ability to speak your mind will disappear faster than you can regain yourself. “But it hurts. It hurts to see you holding his hand, walking around and… and kissing him.”

Your heart stings when you see the tears welling in her eyes when you find it in you to look at her. The last thing you want is to see her in pain. This next bit hurts you even more to say, but you know that it’s better to tell her how you feel.

“I feel like I’m an open wound… and you're just pouring salt on me,” and you start to choke up a little. “I’m sorry to put it that way but—”

“No,” she interjects. “No. I get it… I-I understand.”

And for a moment, it feels like everything's okay for a bit.

Then she comes around the table to kiss you, and hell’s bells start ringing all over again. It hurts to kiss her, but it feels so right.

Miyeon leans into you. She kisses you. She pulls you close. She lets you run your hands across her body, down her back. You stand. Your tongue pokes into her mouth. One of you says I need you and you don’t know who it is.

And like when things were okay: you guys don’t make it to the couch.

You get naked. She gets naked. The sex isn’t about pleasure or thrill. It’s the aching within the both of you that drives your shaft into her cunt, rocks her hips as you fuck her. You quite literally make love with her, your strokes passionate and fervent; her cries are earnest and wanton, full of longing. For long moments when her chest is against yours, your hearts are aligned. You wish that you could fuse them together, take away the pain by making the two of you one singular person there on the floor. It feels possible when your dick is throbbing inside of her, pumping her slick with rock hard meat again and again and again.

But the thing that sucks the most is that you can’t do that. You’re two separate people with two separate problems that kinda overlap at the same point.

You have her bent over the counter, propped up on the kitchen sink—anywhere you could reach was a surface for you and her. And normally you’d be a bit of a party pooper about fucking on these surfaces, but today you really can’t give more of a shit. You want to feel like everything’s okay again, like you’re not fighting for your life to hold on to this relationship that’s being torn apart day by day, night by night.

And you may have pieces of each other deep within your souls, but they don’t seem to fit anymore.

When it’s all over and you’re panting against the dishwasher, reality hasn’t changed and you’re still torn. You have a wound that only you can heal through acceptance, yet you can’t find it in you to accept that this is the life you have to lead. You want to love her. You want it so bad. But you can’t find the will in you to love her when there’s another man in the picture, albeit that her love for him isn’t even minimally a concept. You can’t nurse her injuries either, and it hurts to know that as her delicate hands cradle your cheeks. Her touch is perfect, her breaths are soft on your skin. The two of you have tried so hard to make it work, yet you’ve only come so far. The solution to this problem is like thousands of hot fire pokers stabbing you simultaneously, and it only hurts because it’s the only way forward for the both of you. 

“Miyeon,” you can’t quite believe what you’re about to say. The tears streaming down your  cheeks aren’t making anything easier. “Let’s break up.”

(And this isn’t for pity: but you cry yourself to sleep after she leaves that night. Ain’t it fun being heartbroken? You would know how it feels, right cupcake?)

--

Three months, two weeks and one day (about 105 days if you really want to be fully accurate. Go write that down somewhere) pass uneventfully—and by that you mean, you never picked up any of the 138 calls that came from Miyeon. It would have been 140 calls if you hadn’t picked up two of them when you were drunk. But hey, she was drunk too. So it kinda cancels out… at least you like to think that it does. It does, doesn't it? Two negatives make a positive? 

(No?)

Ah well. Anyway,

(Okay, caveat, again: you’re thankful that she hadn’t showed up to the apartment once throughout this period. You’ve been stuck between your anger and a blame that you can’t face because you don’t know if you blame yourself or her or him. Drinking doesn’t help to lighten the ache in your chest, so you tried exercising: running, swimming, even pilates; you tried to pick up music—bought a guitar and everything. Your fingers still hurt when you play chords, and you’re considering giving up at some point; you tried to learn how to make those pain in the ass French desserts, and now you have a fire extinguisher permanently installed in your kitchen because you somehow managed to set fire to macarons; and you tried to write. That didn’t go well. 5 Wattpad users politely asked you to kill yourself. Not fun.

One way or another, your thoughts would end up drifting back to Miyeon, and you’d have to sit in place and kinda stare into the distance for a little. And yes, you did question your choice to end things with her many times if anyone is asking. You kinda hate yourself a little for not trying to make things work, and you also kinda hate her for not insisting on staying to make things work. 

It took two of the three months for you to realise that you were both kinda in the wrong. But it’s already too late by then.

You couldn’t get a grip of yourself and fight off your internal demons; she couldn’t stop doing what she thought was right to protect the two of you. Net-net: it’s a loss for the both of you in the business of love. Now you have to look for a way forward through this grey-area mess that you’ve made, learn to live with the fact that maybe you guys just weren't meant to be in the grand scheme of things.

The updates on Miyeon’s relationship with that damned actor kept coming, but it stopped as of late. But for a while, they were all the rage for gossip blogs. Every now and then, a shitty title like “Cho Miyeon stuns with her visuals on her date” would pop up, and you have to swipe away quickly before you accidentally tap on the notification and see her holding hands with him. You’ll admit that you opened some of the articles just to get a look at her face, then smile to yourself for a bit before you fight the urge to punch the spot next to her where Squid Game wannabe is smiling. You’ve succeeded so far.

You kept away from Jjampong and tomato soup with grilled cheese too. It’s hard to take your butter bell down from the fridge without tearing a little, and the fish sauce and chilli flake panacea for food doesn't apply to a broken heart by the way (it’s just really salty and spicy. You don’t know what you were thinking. Probably drunk. 0/10, please, please, please do not try). The two dishes are too homely; their tastes remind you of her.

Okay. Let’s ‘anyway’ for real this time.)

Yeah, so uh, remember how you said that sometimes the news you give each other can be a little heart-attack-inducing, so it’s better that your loves are pretty bland? Yep… Sad to say that the same confirmed hypothesis still stands, even when you guys are on day 106 of your break up.

This time the news comes in another headline—and you mean like front page, breaking news headline—on Tuesday night. Wonderwall isn’t treating you too well. You’re pretty sure that your finger tips might be turning purple. Your phone buzzes next to you like crazy, just like it did that night, and it’s like having an iPhone seizure. You don’t think too much when you put down the guitar and pick up your device. 

And you only read the first six words to give yourself a valid reason to reset your miscall streak with Miyeon.

Idol Cho Miyeon Slapped In Public…

(The title was a lot longer than that. You should know it since you’re here in the first place.)

It’s in moments like this when you kinda wish that speed dial was still a thing. (I mean there's siri and all, but do you really have time for that right now?) In a blur of great clumsiness, you open your contacts and experience no difficulty in locating her number again. She’s on the top of your miscall list, so it really takes no wizard to figure this out.

You hate that she’s letting it ring for so long. Every brr brr makes you tremble a little more in your seat. If your mum could see you now, you’d probably get an earful for your bad habit of biting your nails.

She finally picks up the phone. It’s good to hear her voice. “Hey…”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Now you realise that in your hurry to check on her, you’ve yet to rehearse what to say to her. The debate between your head and gut almost tears you in two. 

“You okay?” you finally manage to blurt after some struggle. “I saw the news… Just wanted to check if, you know, you’re still up and kicking…”

You hear that familiar scoff from the other side of the phone. “Please. You know that it takes more than that to take me down.”

If your ears don't deceive you, you can hear a bit of a strain in her voice. She hates it when you jump to conclusions though, so you leave it as it is for now. “That’s… That’s great.”

And it’s silent again. If you were in the business of losing her interest, you’d be making crazy profits right now. Okay, better end this fast.

“Well uh,” you begin, stopping for a second to swallow some saliva to soothe your semi parched throat. “I guess—”

“Can I come over?” 

Like she always does, she shocks you into silence. Your throat dries up. Your mouth is the Sahara. 

“I… I miss you… if my miss-calls weren't clear enough about that,” she chuckles. You swear you hear a sniffle. “I’d like to see you again,” and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, “for closure of course… and maybe tomato soup?”

Your heart joins the debate between your head and gut. It wins.

Minutes later, your butter bell is open, a knife scraping out the last bits of creamy butter out of it so that it can be used to evenly butter the other side of your bread. You’re moving on instinct, with glee and excitement. You’re not sure why you’re happy. You’re just happy—happy that you’re gonna see her; happy that you can prepare this dish again without the knowledge that you’re not gonna see her when you turn. It isn’t till the doorbell rings that the joy fades, and in its place comes that familiar tension of a two tonne weight wrapped around your chest. 

You aren’t sure why she rings the door when you haven’t changed the passcode to the lock. If she’s trying to be polite? You appreciate it. If she just forgot the pin? Well… you wouldn’t put that past her either, really. Your gut, head and heart agree you that it’s most likely the latter, and you kinda have to remind yourself as you open the door that she's just as forgetful as anyone else.

“Hi,” you catch yourself staring at her. You don’t mean to look at her dress first, but it’s the first thing your eyes are drawn to; it's been a while since you’ve seen her in anything other than a t-shirt and shorts. The white dress she’s wearing is bedazzled out, the light that’s reflected off of it catching you and making you a deer in headlights for a bit. Then you snap out of it. Your gaze travels up to her face and… “You look… Fucking terrible.”

You love her eyes and you love to watch them roll. “Thanks. You look not bad yourself. Gained some weight?”

You try not to stare. You fail—horribly you might add. 

But in your defence, it’s hard not to look at the purple spot on her milky skin. 

Miyeon covers her cheek. She looks down at your feet like there's something really interesting about them. “Are you, you know, letting me in? Or are we just gonna keep standing here?”

You blink. “R-Right.”

And soon she’s settled into her usual seat, nibbling on some grilled cheese while you ladle out her tomato soup into a bowl. It feels like nothing has changed, but you know that’s not true. Both of you know that everything’s different, that you can’t just give her tomato soup and peck her on the cheek.

“So you play guitar now?” she catches you off guard as the bowl makes a small thunk against the table. It’s in the same spot she always places it, and you know because a woodring has formed in that area. You follow her gaze and see that she’s spotted your Fender on the couch. 

“Sort of?” you reply, a little uncertain in how to rate your abilities. “Just basic stuff, you know?”

She smirks and picks up her spoon, starts chipping away at her soup “So you’re finally digging up the singer-songwriter in you… Good on you, man.”

Again, you find yourself staring at the bruise. It’s a deep shade of purple, splotchy and a sight for sore eyes. From the looks of it, he hit her hard. There’s a burning in your chest—a mix of grief, pity and anger as you watch her eat her food. You wish that you could’ve been there to stop it. You wished that you could’ve just dated her under different circumstances so that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve gotten that ending you wanted. You don’t know how she’s ever gonna cover that up when—

“If you’re gonna get something for this thing, go do it,” she mutters. “Chivalry hasn’t died completely, right?”

You nod and scuttle off. It’s easy to lose track of how long you’ve been staring when you’re lost in your thoughts. Is it scary how this feels like just another conversation between you two? 

The ice pack from when she bought that ice cream cake was still in the freezer, and it’s chilly in your hands as you grab it and return to the table. She has finished her soup—not a single scrap left inside the bowl. She must be starving.

Her grilled cheese is half eaten in her hand; she stares into the distance as she chews. 

(And she’s as beautiful as she can ever be, by the way. A lot of people haven’t seen her the way you see her, and you’re kinda glad that you get to witness that tender part of her that she rarely shows to cameras. It’s… It’s hard to describe what it means to know that someone like her finds it this easy to be herself around you, but you know it’s an honour and a blessing.

But when you're looking at her with your rose-tinted lenses stripped away from you, the notions you hold towards vulnerability become contradictory, because on one hand you know that she’ll never hurt you the way she did, but on the other you know that she’s not the same person when she’s not around you. So at the end of the day, you’re just kinda left figuring out which side of her is the real her. Do you believe what the Cho Miyeon you know tells you? Or do you believe what the Cho Miyeon the world knows? It gets confusing, makes you wonder why she ever has to put up two fronts in the first place. 

Then again, it’s not exactly her fault: she does what she has to so she can stay afloat. No industry is free from dirt. Some are just filthier than others.

I guess what I’m getting at is that… she’s this contradiction in my mind. I want to believe her, but I can’t, yet I still love her like she’s just a regular human and our lives are just a little messy. I know there's this whole argument about the fact that idols are humans too and all, but I guess it’s kinda… undermined? Yeah—undermined by the fact that they can’t exactly lead ‘normal’ lives once they’re famous. Look at me, using these big words.

So I guess… I guess dating her was like the worst of all blessings and the best of all curses. Does that make sense?

…

Ugh. I’m blabbering. 

Sorry cupcake, I’ll get back to it.)

And maybe you forget that she isn’t your girlfriend anymore, or maybe you just kinda blank out in the moment, or maybe you just wanted to do it. For whatever reason: you call her name, and when she turns, the ice pack in your hand is gently applied against her face. You don’t think much of it for like, three or four seconds. But when her wide eyes finally register in your head, there’s a moment where your breath is caught in your throat. 

This is important, so you should know: the silence is fucking deafening. 

She swallows the bit of sandwich in her mouth. “I refused to sleep with him, and he hit me like a girl. Fucking embarrassing on his part,” and there’s that smile on her face as she speaks, the same one that she loves to flash your way when she told you that she loved you. “Barely felt it. Light work.”

You can’t resist—your other hand cradles her unblemished cheek. “Miyeon…”

She closes her eyes. She knows that tone you’re using, the one that’s like ‘don’t lie to me’ or ‘it’s okay, you can tell me’. “Look: when the man that loved you the way no one else loved you breaks up with you, nothing can be more painful than that,” she whispers. Her throat bobs a little. She furrows her brows as her eyes squeezed themselves shut themselves a little tighter. “And that man is you by the way…” her voice cracks, her eyes open, “don’t know if I was clear enough.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now. She always is.

The familiarity of her lips against yours almost makes you melt. The ice pack drops from your hand, your palm taking its place on her face. You kiss her like you used to. You kiss her like you want nothing else but her. You kiss her like you want nothing else but her because you want nothing else but her. She’s home – Jjamppong and Grilled Cheese with Tomato soup — and you don’t ever want her to leave again.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, and you wipe the tear trailing down her cheek. “I should have never… We should have never—”

You shush her with your lips. She lets herself melt into you, her hands running through your hair the way she would sometimes when she called you crazy or baby. You don’t realise how much you’ve missed her touch till now.

“We were both wrong,” you tell her once you break away (rather reluctantly). “So how about we just call it a truce?”

She nods, and she does it enthusiastically. “If it’s cool with you…”

You scoff. “Why would it not be?” and your thumb gently caresses her bruise gently. You want to kill him, but you’ll save that for another time. “I’m the one who suggested it… Guess Chivalry is not all dead, huh?”

And it’s good to hear her laugh again.

“Come here you big idiot,” she giggles, and she kisses you again. 

Then you dive down to her collarbone when you can’t take it anymore. And the rest is history repeating itself.

You know: it feels like you’ve been picked up from the ground. Miyeon has come to get you… she's come to get you.

Maybe everything’s okay after all.

--

(And uh… The media covers the rest. What was it? Like, two weeks later? 

Ah whatever. You know what happens, don’t you? It’s pretty crazy, made headlines and all.

CUBE has some really good lawyers… And liars. Almost the same thing.)

--

“So that’s the story?” 

Nursing your third bottle of cider, you chuckle. You’d thought by fleshing out whole smuts in verbal form would have chased her away by now, yet here she is. Then again: she is an old friend of yours, so you guessed that she’d be rather adjusted to your bullshit. “Are you sure you’re an investigative journalist?” you question her, “I thought you’d ask something more along the lines of ‘what happens after?’.”

From across the booth seat, Chou Tzuyu shoots you a smirk. 

“The news covered it. Why should I pour salt into old wounds?” she admits. Her glass of wine swirls, manipulated expertly by her delicate fingers. “Anyway, I think I got… The main gist of it. Unless you have more information regarding the restraining order filed against you by CUBE, I have no further questions.”

You roll your eyes. No, you do not have any new information about why CUBE decided that you were a danger to Cho Miyeon, and you’ll never know if Miyeon knows either. She was out of town when it happened, and all she knows is what the news reported: you’re allegedly a stalker and hence a threat. You only know that she called and texted you frantically after, but…

You know what? Maybe you’ll think about this another time.

“You do know that, like, you're kinda bad at this right?” and you set your cider bottle aside, letting it join the almost empty whiskey bottle you bought yourself. You fold your hands and lean into the table. The world spins a little. “I don’t know why you’re prying, but I’m guessing that you heard something from the grapevine that you were itching to hear more about. Either that or you’re just… Could it be that you’re desperate to get something fresh, Miss Chou?”

She sips on her wine, leaves the question hanging in the air for a little as she swallows. 

“Keep this between us: I can’t trust Shuhua sometimes,” she muses. “If I’m gonna write about this, I’m gonna have to make sure that all the information I’ve gotten from her can be corroborated,” she pushes a wisp of hair behind her ear. “And for the record: I am not bad. I do my research as thoroughly as anyone else would—enough to know that you are someone who tells the truth.”

“So you’re saying that you trust me as a source?” you can’t help but scoff. “Me, the very guy that got fucked over by CUBE? I could be bigoted and biased for all you know. Or even worse: I’m lying.”

She smiles knowingly. “Respectfully, you have too much… personal voice in this recount that I might as well write an autobiography on your behalf.”

And she stuns you into silence. It occurs to you that you're a little drunk, and you’re pretty sure that you called this woman ‘cupcake’ multiple times. You’re not too sure; you don’t even have half a mind to know what you’re doing or saying.

Tzuyu gulps down the rest of her wine before she rises from her seat. 

“I best be going,” she opens her purse and fishes something out of it. She hands you a card, an address and a phone number handwritten onto it in what looks like a felt pen. “If you want your story to be heard, give me a call… Or a text. Whatever strikes your fancy. I’ll need a version of this that doesn’t include all the fucking and your drunk blabbering,” she shoulders her purse and smiles. “Can’t promise that I’ll buy you a drink to make you talk again, but I can treat you to some really good Chinese dumplings. Maybe we can catch up a little too. It’s been a while.”

You stare at the card, tracing the hooks and curves that form numbers and letters. Your eyes fix back on her. “Why are you doing this?”

She shrugs, and it’s not a “I dunno” type of shrug, but more like a “the proof’s in the pudding, open your fucking eyes” type of shrug. 

“I want to report the truth, and I know you well enough to know that you want that too.”

That's right. Another series. I know I'm doing everything but finishing up Beats Me, and you can go cry a river in my asks if you want. Just kidding, I love all of you, but I want to write what I want to write. Let me have my fun, would you? Also, for the record: I did not finish this 5 days after Beats Me 7. Beats Me 7 was finished before I vanished from tumblr for a bit. This has been brewing since December. You can thank long drives and Noah Kahnan for this.

Anyway, another big thank you to @defmaybe for being such a great sport and reading through the 39 page document that showed up in their discord DMs one fine day. This fic would have been full of typos and horrible grammatical errors if it weren't for them.

Stay safe, Nichu

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 7: Emails I Can’t Send

ft. Kim Minju

Word Count: 10k+

The first few minutes of your meeting are spent by Yeji and Yuna to catch up on life. 

You sit by the side, detached from the conversation as you sip on the latte (what did they put in this thing? It’s so damn good). They relive some highschool memories, ask each other what they’ve been studying—the usual stuff. The croissants at the counter look really good, and you’re wondering if they’ll taste as good as they look. Maybe you should buy one later. 

Yuna reminds you of Ryujin, only if Ryujin looked friendlier and less intimidating upon first glance. Her voice is distinct, her laugh even more so as she does that thing where she moves her feet like she’s running while she doubles over. Her eyes stay focused on her senior who—for the first time since you’ve seen her—is smiling. Yeji’s lanky fingers stay affixed to the straw, moving every now and then to disturb the ice as she stirs the drink. The coffee swirling in milk leaves light brown streaks against the side of her glass, creating these streaky patterns that look like they probably belong on an art piece. There are some details in her life that she briefly touches on but never delves into, probably because you’re there next to her.

Then it’s finally time. You’re dragged back into the conversation when Yeji says, “So you want to join the band?” and suddenly the cat that’s situated just outside the glass door doesn’t have your attention. Yea. Been looking for a chance to play, is Yuna’s reply, I saw you guys play at that bar the other time. You guys were great. 

Eunbi should be here. She would’ve been ecstatic to hear that.

Yeji nods her head, stirring her drink idly as she silently looks at her junior. You hope that Yuna’s stratagem to enter isn’t just flattery. A sinking feeling tells you that it just might be, judging from the way she’s shifting under the gaze of her senior.

“Remind me Yuna: how many years have you played the saxophone for?” Yeji inquires. Yuna’s response is quick, almost rehearsed—five years now. Never stopped playing for a single moment in my life—and Yeji seems rather pleased by it. Yuna sips on her grapefruit ade, casting a glance your way as Yeji drums her nails against the table. You shoot the younger girl a reassuring smile, and hopefully she gets the message that she’s doing great in your books.

Then Yeji unfolds her arms, taps a nail before your crossed arms that rest on the table to get your attention. The same nail points towards Yuna, and its owner simply gestures with her chin. You get what she wants you to do, though you would’ve appreciated it if she’d just told you what she wanted, and you clear your throat while sitting up a little straighter. 

“Um… Yeji kinda has me here to… Talk about my experience.” You internally cringe at your opening statement. What is this? An alumni sharing session? you chide yourself, all while you’re continuing on to whatever it is you have to say, “When you join this band, do expect yourself to be pushed a little. The hours aren’t all that taxing, but you gotta be able to… You know, strike that work life balance, as they say.”

And that’s just about all you have to say. Yeji neither smiles nor glares at you, only giving the smallest of nods as she focuses her attention on her junior. “If we give you a chart, you better learn it by heart by next practice. If we have a gig, practice will get more intensive. There’s a lot of things you need to be able to do Yuna. You can’t just think that you’re up to it; you have to be sure that you can shoulder all of these responsibilities.”

She’s making this sound like military recruitment, you’re thinking. Yuna’s definitely feeling a slight shift in atmosphere, and she’s fiddling with her glass as she stares straight into Yeji’s eyes. If you’re being honest: Yeji is definitely exaggerating the rigor of the band, and it’s probably scaring the poor girl. Your guitarist’s gaze isn’t at its peak intensity, but it’s enough to make Yuna purse her lips in silence, her smile fading from her face. Yeji greets her junior’s silence with a grim expression.

“So. Let me ask you again.” This time, Yeji’s tone is the furthest thing from gentle. “Are you ready to join us?”

Yuna stares at the melting ice in her glass. She takes a sip of her coffee, lets it sit in her mouth for a bit, and then swallows. “I’ll… I’ll text you when I’ve made up my mind.”

And all at once, it feels like all the happiness in the world has been sapped out of this cafe. Yeji stands up, leaving the rest of her latte untouched as she shoulders her bag and pushes in her chair. 

“I’ll pay you for the latte,” she says, albeit a bit too nonchalantly after she’d single handedly brought down the mood. “Text me how much it costs, then text me again once you’re sure that you want in.”

She doesn’t even wait for you, doesn’t even look at you; she just turns on her heel and leaves. And for a moment, you sit there in awkward silence with Shin Yuna. You can’t help but feel bad for the poor girl who’d just been subjected to unwarranted coldness; and you want to comfort her, but you don’t know how. With a sigh, you take the straw out of your cup, bring the glass to your mouth and down the rest of your latte. Yuna’s eyes stayed trained on her own latte, which was close to untouched. She watches as a single drop of condensation rolls down the side of the glass, landing on her coaster and getting absorbed into the material. 

“The band’s… Not as bad as she makes it sound,” you pipe, pausing for a brief moment to consider your words carefully. “Yeji tends to be a little… Mean sometimes.” Now that she has her eyes on you, you can’t help but feel a little shifty in your seat. She’s the type of girl that turns heads when she walks down the street, the type of girl that could probably get scouted by a model agency just by standing at a bus stop and looking at her phone. Not that her gaze is piercing or anything, but it’s just that she’s a little too breathtaking to make you feel okay sitting opposite her in a one on one. “Don’t think too much about it. I think you’ll make a great fit in the band.”

And then you decide to leave. It’s with great embarrassment that you state that you should take your leave, and it’s with great clumsiness and lack of grace that you stand up, bump your knee against the table, mutter a small and push your chair in before making a beeline for the door. The bell on the door chimes as you pull the door open, and it chimes again when you step out, and again when you close the door shut behind you—almost like it was laughing at you. So much for not being awkward. 

“Thought you’d stay in there for a little longer.”

Hearing Yeji’s voice makes you jump, and you turn to find her petting the cat at the windowsill of the cafe. She isn’t even looking at you, not even a glance in your direction as you walk up to her and stop just before her. 

“What the hell was that in there?” you can’t help but question. “You make us sound like we’re a fucking concentration camp while simultaneously making her feel like shit. How the fuck do you even do that?”

She gives the cat one last scratch between the ears, and the feline purrs under her touch. She rises from her squatting position and looks you in the eye. “That’s why I brought you here: to make her feel better.” She lets that linger in the air for a bit. “Okay. I’m going home.”

And she walks right past you like you aren’t going to be traveling in the same direction as her. A grunt of frustration slips out of your lips as you turn and catch up with her, matching her pace step for step. 

“Did you seriously think,” you ask as you match her stride, “that a small ‘it’s alright’ from me would be enough to make her join?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“Same goes for you.”

“What?”

The two of you stop at the traffic light, and she takes the time to adjust her hair over her shoulder and crack her neck like there isn’t someone talking to her on her immediate left. At this point, you are as good as a ghost to her.

“Why can’t you just be nice for once?” you don’t bother hiding the aggression in your tone, nor did you ever intend on doing so. “Is it really that hard? Do we have to go through a trial to earn your kindness?”

The light turns green and she puts away her phone. “I’m only nice to the people I trust, and neither you nor Yuna fall into that category.”

You bite your tongue, and you stay where you are as she walks across the road. She doesn’t look back, and you never expected her to. This conversation is hardly worth your time and emotional battery. You’re better off talking to some moss ball behind a dumpster, and the silence that you’ll receive is more welcoming than anything Hwang Yeji will ever say.

And so you walk elsewither from where she’s going and you just walk. You know for a fact that there’s no point in fuming over her behavior, and there’s definitely no point in figuring out how to get to her. Instead, you walk down a stretch of shops, letting your eyes wander across the various items that are being displayed at the windows: the jewelry, the clothes, the facial products, the bags, the—

Someone calls your name, and her voice is all too familiar. You’ve heard it just recently, over the phone with club music blaring over her voice. So yeah: you don’t need to turn to know who's made you stop in your tracks, but you do just because you need to see it to believe it

Kim Minju looks dazzling in her outfit:a set of black and short shorts that cover up the skin that’s exposed beneath the shirt-dress she wears. The lime green knitted Prada bag she has in her hands is a little bit jarring, a tad out of place on her monochrome outfit, and you guess that she probably grabbed it in a rush to get out of the house. Still: it looks like a purposeful mismatch, and perhaps your sense of fashion is just so bland that you simply just can’t appreciate the complexity of her outfit.

“Hey,” she greets—a mix of shock and surprise and glee on her face as she takes small steps towards you. It isn’t that big of a distance to cross, and she’s right in front of you in two-to-three small steps. She stops for a moment, lets her eyes wander across your face for a bit. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Same goes for you,” you tell her. “Thought we’d just rub shoulders in the club and call it a day.”

Minju giggles, fidgets a little with the strap of her bag that sits nicely on her small shoulder. “You uh… you going somewhere?”

“Well um…” it’s hard to phrase what exactly it is you’re doing right now, because: a) you don’t exactly have a set location in mind and; b) you don’t know how to tell her that you were going away from somewhere that you were going to just now—ugh, it’s confusing to even think about. In the name of reducing the complications of your explanation, you opt for the best response you can possibly give at the moment: “No. Not really. How about you?”.

It’s not a lie; it’s half of the truth… Sort of? Ah fuck, why bother fretting over it?

She smiles, a toothless one where the corner of her lips gets tugged up by a set of invisible strings. It’s a charming little smile, and you have to admit that you love seeing the way it makes her eyes glimmer a little. “I just met my groupmates, and before you ask: it was a horrible session.”

You chuckle. “My condolences.” You rub your palms against your jeans as you speak, “must suck to be the smartest person in the group.”

She’s consistently been the brightest person in the room, perfect GPA, Valedictorian and everything. Sure: she already stands out because of her looks, but her smarts make her the whole package deal. The whole reason you met her in the first place was because you were failing Chemistry so badly in your first year that the teacher had to get her and her straight-As to step in and tutor you. She did a pretty good job, pulled your marks up from an E to a B and kept it there. 

“Oh shut up,” she sighs, though the smile on her face never fades, “you know I hate it when you say shit like that.”

“Do you? Could’ve sworn that you lived off compliments back then.”

She clicks her tongue in annoyance, slaps your shoulder with the back of her hand. She hasn’t changed one bit. “Fuck you. You always were too damn cheeky.”

You shrug in response. She pushes back a strand of hair.

“You wanna grab a coffee?” Her question is one you’ve expected from the moment you bumped into her. 

“I just had a latte, but I wouldn’t mind getting a Croissant.”

***

“You were one mark away from an A—this close to breaking your B streak.”

“It was an A in technicality. Careless mistakes that fuck me over don’t count, Minju.”

“Tell that to the Chemistry department then.”

“I think they would've dunked me in a vat of acid.”

“What type of Acid? Can you still remember which ones can melt skin off bone?”

“Welcome back Little Miss know-it-all.”

“The information will save you one day, mark my words.”

“Well I doubt I’ll ever come into contact with skin-melting Chemicals any time soon.”

“Don’t jinx yourself.”

“Hey, don’t tell me that when you were the one who was dubbed ‘bearer of bad news’.”

“It’s not my fault that I always have to relay the bad news to the class! I was the fucking class president!”

“Oh right.”

“Oh right. You sound so stupid.”

“Says the one giving me a lecture.”

“I’d hardly constitute this as a lecture.”

“Look at you using big words.”

“I’m going to throw this fucking coffee at you.”

“It’s a good latte. I wouldn’t recommend you wasting your money like that.”

“You’re a child.”

“Aren’t we all young at heart?”

“Young at heart is one thing. Immaturity is another.”

“I’d argue that you’re the immature one here.”

“Says the one who’s always getting himself involved in some shit every other day.”

“I wouldn’t blame that on my immaturity.”

“So you do admit that you’re immature.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth.”

“It’s not my fault that you say stupid things.”

“But it’s you that uses my stupid things to… Fuck. That won’t sound right.”

“Did you just lose your train of thought mid sentence?”

“I was running what I was about to say through my head.”

“You do that while you speak? You’re so weird.”

“Oh so you’d rather me spit out nonsense all the time?”

“Yea, so I can insult you over it.”

“Ugh. You’re so kind Minju.”

“Thank you. I pride myself with my heart of gold.”

“The same one that made you a pushover with your ex?”

“We both know that he manipulated me.”

“And you kept making excuses with him because you refused to see the bad in him.”

“Okay, I admit that that was a bit of a misplay on my end.”

“You dated him for two years.”

“I didn’t want to be lonely, okay? Everyone in the damn friend group was dating, I felt left out!”

“But we were in healthy relationships. Yours looked like the physical embodiment of type two diabetes.”

“Oh. So you’d consider your relationship with Kim Chaewon a healthy one?”

“It was till… You know.”

The silence that follows is deafening, and Minju’s smile fades.

“Shit. I went a little overboard with that one,” how apologetic she sounded made you feel bad. Not that you ever intended to be a wet blanket, but the hesitance in your voice must have killed the mood or something. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

You waved it off. “All jokes,” you assure her with a forced smile. “Nothing was or has been taken to heart. I promise.”

She purses her lips, and when she parts them, they make a small smack. You take a moment to take another stab at your croissant and send another bit into your mouth. And yes: it does taste as good as it looks. 

“How are things with you and her anyway?” She asks, setting down her half-full glass of latte. “Are you guys doing alright? Talking now?”

You imagine the look of shock on her face when you tell her that you made out with your ex and fucked her after you took her home, and make the executive decision to skip the details and give her a more vague (and untrue)  answer: “We’re uh… Reconciling I guess.”

She nods, and you can’t tell if it’s one of approval or one of disappointment. She’d been the number one supporter of your relationship with Chaewon; imagine her shock when you told her one fine morning over the phone that the two of you had broken up.

“Forgive me for continuing on this subject, but,” the addition of that but really spoke volumes of how she wasn’t gonna let you interject, even if you really wanted to just stop talking about it. She’s not one to be self-centred, but when she has something to say, you have a guaranteed earnings if you bet on the fact that she’ll get it out one way or another. You always let her get away with it, only because you have a bit of a soft spot for her, and she has a bit of a soft spot for you too—you did spend a large amount of time in your first year of highschool in the library with her after all. “I always thought that you and Chaewon would be, you know, a ‘forever couple’.”

“Well I’m sorry we ruined your drama fantasies,” you reply, trying to bring the conversation back to the light-hearted talk it was just a couple of minutes ago. “Some things just don’t work out in the end—the relationship was just one of those things.”

This time, you decode her nod as one of understanding and sympathy. “Well… As long as you’re okay now.” she rolls her straw between her forefinger and thumb, watching as it twists left and right in her fingers and disturbs the latte before her. “You seem to be doing well with your whole band gig and all.”

“You could say that.” You set down your fork and dab the corners of your mouth with a napkin while you swallow the rest of your croissant. “Chaewon and I will learn to… Coexist eventually. I hope so at least.”

“You guys better sort it out,” she muses. “I doubt I can keep baby-sitting her at the club for much longer. I have a life too, you know?”

“I feel like that’s more of a problem for her to settle than us.” you’re barely hiding the disdain in your voice as you stare at crumbs that are left on your plate. “It’s not my problem if she gets drunk. She made the choice to go drinking herself.”

“But you made it your problem just a day ago,” Minju points out. 

“Only because it was the only way to get her out of that damn club.”

“You could’ve chosen not to come.”

“And leave you guys to deal with her?”

“It was me and Eunbi. We could’ve dragged her out.”

“But—“

“Just admit that you actually cared. You and I both know that you’re too much of a fucking sweetheart to ever let someone struggle when you can help.”

And she stumps you with that one, because you don’t know how to reply to that. Is that a compliment or an insult? Frankly, you didn’t know, but you do know that you’re surprised by the fact that anyone can ever use the word sweetheart in such an aggressive manner. It’s like telling someone you love their outfit before punching them in the face. 

Okay, maybe not that extreme… But you get the gist.

“Maybe I did have a soft spot for her,” you mused. It’s half self-realisation, half-reply. “But even so: you guys would go through all nine circles of hell just to get her up and out of the club.”

Minju draws her lips into a thin line. She lifts her straw to her mouth, lets it hover just in front of her lips for a bit, then places the glass back down on the table heavily. A small, substantial thump sends a small tremor through the table. She stares into her glass. “What even happened when you took her home anyway?”

You shrug and put down your fork to wipe your mouth—actions that mask the fact that you want to cringe at yourself over what happened. You’ve done a lot of lying today (what would your mother say?), and you’re pretty sure that all of this will come back and bite you in the ass some day. But for now, you’d like to save yourself some embarrassment as you say, “Helped her with her hangover. Gave her a meal. Then she left.”

Minju looks at you for a moment. Then she sighs and shakes her head.

“You’re too kind for your own good,” she mutters. Her fingers stay wrapped around her glass as she speaks, beads of condensation slowly running down the clear walls of her cup and sliding down her knuckles. She raises her head, just enough to establish eye contact with you. “Then again: your soft little heart was the reason I had a crush on you.”

Okay. She skipped a lot of ground there.

You blink. You blink again. She stares straight into your eyes throughout—doesn’t break eye contact or anything. Not that you didn’t take her seriously, but just that you were a little… Well, stunned.

“Bottom line: you care about her. Don’t let her manipulate you okay?” Minju tells you, finally raising the star to her mouth and taking a nice long sip from her latte. When the straw is released from between her lips, she smacks her lips in satisfaction and leans back in her seat. You’re still staring if anyone’s asking, and yes: you are indeed thinking, what the fuck?

Minju shoots you a look of disdain. “What?” she asks as she straightens the collar of her shirt dress. “Why are you looking at me like that? Cut it out.”

Okay: aside from the fact that you’re shocked by the fact that she isn’t addressing the elephant in the room (the one that she placed there by her damn self), you’re reeling over the fact that she’s just casually dropped this hell-of-a piece of news on you like it was just an update on life or something; oh I used to like, you know, see you more than just a friend, but no biggie.

You blink. You blink again. She grabs the straw and tosses it out of the glass, gulps the rest of her latte in a single swallow and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. 

“If you’re wondering if the feelings are still there, the answer is no,” she tells you, picking up a napkin to clean up the corners of her mouth. “The keyword was had you big dummy. Stop thinking so much about it. You look stupid.”

The faculties to reply return to you, but you can’t do much but sputter a very confused wha? as Minju examines her nails for a bit. She smirks, then grabs her bag and rises from her seat. 

“If my news is killing you that bad, why don’t we talk about it over a nice dinner?”

***

True to her word, she does open up about everything over the course of the meal, albeit after a couple of glasses of wine.

“You were so cute and so damn loveable,” she muses, unashamed as she pours herself another glass. She took you to some nice restaurant a few streets away, and you’re kinda regretting your decision to eat that croissant for tea because fuck does the food here taste good. Minju settles into her seat, glass in hand as she stares at the scarlet liquid. “You bought me dark chocolate on my period, got me a snack after we had a session because I was hungry… You’re pretty fucking handsome too, you know that?”

All of this is, of course, news to you, and you’re struggling to internalise the fact that she would ever think about you in such a way. Your own wine glass has remained full for the entire duration of your meal, and you choose this time to take a sip to help you process all of… Well, this. 

“So… How long did you, you know, like me?” you can’t help but ask. Not that it was the first question on your mind or anything, but more of the fact that you needed to say something to prevent this conversation from descending into awkward silence. Comfortable was the last word you’d use to describe how you feel. 

“Huh…” Minju mutters. She swirls her glass for a bit. She takes a sip, swirls more. Her gaze turns inwards and her mouth moves in a soundless count. “If you don’t count the summer break where I figured out that I wanted nothing more but to kiss you? About a year and a half.”

You do the maths in your head and come to an epiphany. Minju beats you to it and verbalises your thoughts: yea, yea… I liked you while you were dating Chaewon, which means that I liked you when I was dating that deadbeat baseball player, which meant I was unfaithful by technicality, but I stuck with that sick fuck to try and make you jealous.

Frankly, you’re not too sure why you are being thrown into emotional situations with people of your past over the course of the last two days. You want this to be some sort of dream, and you want, so badly, for Minju to burst out laughing and hit you with a, this was all a joke! I just wanted you to accompany me for dinner, that’s all, and call it a day. Maybe you two could get ice cream afterwards, laugh this silly prank off on a bench somewhere and then bid farewell for the night. But judging from the way Minju stares solemnly at her plate, you can pretty much infer with full confidence that she means every word she says. Even as she chews her steak slowly, you can feel her lingering on some thoughts that she won’t verbalise—not now at least. Maybe she’ll text you about it a couple weeks for months down the road, and all of this will just resurface for, like, a day or two at most. Bottom line: she’s pretty serious about everything she just said, and she’ll most likely remind you of this conversation in this nice restaurant that you can never come back to again. The food is nice but it's nowhere in your tax bracket. 

“So uh,” Minju brings your attention back to her. She leaves you hanging for a bit as she pokes a cherry tomato with her fork and sends it into her mouth. You hear a soft crunch as she chews, and you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable with the presented silence that follows. She dabs the corners of her lips with a napkin. She swallows. “About what happened with Chaewon after you took her to your place: did you leave out the part where you fucked her in the ass on purpose? Or did she drug you and you forgot everything?”

And it feels like time freezes as she picks up her wine glass and gulps down the rest of the scarlet liquid in there. When she looks at you with those piercing, knowing eyes, you wonder how much she knows about you and Chaewon; what does she know and what are the details she has sitting in some locker in the corners of her mind. 

“Chaewon has a pretty big mouth you know,” Minju remarks, a small—almost mocking—pout on her lips as she plays with the vegetables on her plate. “She tells me just about anything and everything that goes on in her life, just saying.”

So that’s enough to tell you that she knows more than she should. You wonder if there are any other people Chaewon runs her mouth to.

“If you’re gonna call me a loser, just do it,” you mutter. You suddenly find the urge to down the rest of your wind irresistible. You act on your impulse, and you grimace a little as the alcohol burns your throat on the way down. It’s probably not recommended to consume liquor the way you are drinking it right now, but you couldn’t care less at this point. You kind of need this drink right now. This day has been full of unexpected things: unexpected meetings to unexpected feelings to god knows what else is on its way. “But before you say anything, she started it. I was the victim.”

Minju chuckles. You don;t really find anything about this entertaining right now, but there will certainly be an element of humour to this conversation that you will probably discover after some hindsight. Minju sets down her cutlery and folds her arms. “I understand”, she tells you, making sure to hold your gaze as she rests her cheek in her palm. “Trust me. Calling you a loser is, like, the 2nd thing on my mind right now.”

“And what’s the first?”

She looks left, then right, then leans in a little. “Was the sex good?”

Honestly, you shouldn’t be shocked. She’s always been a bit cheeky in nature, a little bit lickerish and maybe a little indecent. You’ve seen it, heard it, known it for the longest time—yet you can’t stop yourself from raising both eyebrows when she drops the question on you. MAybe it’s the lack of hesitance; the question coming right at you like a fastball after you gave her your end of the situation. It’s a little devious: the way she just gives it to you straight without any room for silence and pondering. You’ll give her that.

“I mean,” she continues, not even giving you time to even try and rationalise the question. “I imagine that her pussy’s already tight as fuck. Her ass? God I can only imagine what that was like for you.”

Now it’s getting a little confusing. The lines between wry and genuine interest are being blurred here, and you’re not even sure if this is really a conversation you’re having with her right now. Her bluntness and lack of consideration towards you is a little appalling given her remorse in the cafe. Maybe it’s the wine. Yea, it’s probably the wine…

“What the fuck?” Is all you can manage as you affix your gaze on her with a look of shock that could probably win you an award if this was a movie. Minju pushes back some hair, fingers deftly tucking them behind her ear as she fixes you with a look. You have no idea where this conversation is going, and you really, really hope that she doesn’t continue on this line of talk. Of course, you have a bad track record of getting what you wish for. 

Minju leans in even more, gets even closer. You’re not sure if you should move or do anything at this juncture. She cocks her head a little, smirks.

“Wanna find out if I’m a better fuck then her?”

***

Why did you follow her back to her apartment? You don’t even know. Best guess: you weren’t really thinking after she spoke and just went with it. Or maybe: you might have looked at her all weird and somehow ended up agreeing (she’s a sweet talker and you certainly wouldn’t put it past her). There are about ten possibilities that you can think of—eleven if you added the one that just formulated in your brain about a second ago—all of which are equally confusing and hard to fathom. It’ll take some time and probably a cup of coffee or two to figure out.

But focus up: there are a lot more pressing matters right now, matters like the fact that her lips are firmly pressed against yours while your back is against the closed and locked door of her apartment. Frankly, you don’t even know how the hell you two got locked in this kiss; could’ve sworn the two of you were just talking at the restaurant a couple of minutes ago. Everything’s a little hazy, and it’s a little worrying considering that you only had one or two… Maybe three? Yea, probably three… Let’s just say there was a couple more glasses of wine after she asked if you if she could potentially be a better fuck, and here you are now. It seems like your relationship with alcohol and women all lead to the same destination. It’s a problem for sure, but you can settle that later. 

There’s a rather loud smack as she removes her lips from yours—for air of course. Gazing deep into your eyes, she smiles as she tells you, god I’ve always wanted to do that, before she re-establishes the connection of lips. The kiss is aggressive: nothing short of fervent and definitely not holding back on the restraint. If there was a way to properly kiss someone, Kim Minju was certainly taking it up another step. Her tongue pokes through your lips, invades past your teeth and pushes itself deep into your mouth till it dances with yours. It’s starting to get a little messy, a little more raunchy and, uh… Well—you get the gist. Your brain’s certainly not functioning the way it should be. 

Are you drunk? Probably not.

She starts to pull you by the shirt—away from the door and towards the living room. Her place is pretty big, and there's enough space for the two of you to stumble and fumble around till you find a flat surface that you can proper her up on and spread her legs. The surface in question is a table. It’s probably her dining table, and it creaks as Minju undoes the clasp of her sheer shorts that really shouldn’t be classified as shorts in any world. The article of clothing comes off together with your jeans, and they’re both tossed aside before your hands are on her hips and pulling her towards you. Her ass slides over the wood, hissing as her skin drags along a small distance so that she can grip your face in her palms and crash her lips against yours. You close your eyes, enjoy the feel of her warm body pressing against yours while those gentle hands sink fingers into the flesh of your cheeks. A dark part of you takes a little pleasure in the pain.

“Fuck.” You love the lilt in her voice after she breaks the kiss. “I see why Chaewon likes to kiss you now,” she lets her hands roam across your face, brushing away the bits of your hair that fall in front of your eyes, almost as if she wants you to see her and only her. “You kiss so well. Feels like I’m kissing a marshmallow with lips.”

“Do I even want to know how you came up with that analogy?” you question. She grins.

“Just trust it. I did get a higher score than you in just about every subject except music.”

You chuckle. She goes in for a kiss; you make a beeline for the column of milky skin at her neck, savour the sharp inhale that sucks air through her teeth and sounds like more of a hiss. You kiss her jaw, trail it up to her neck then back down to her collarbone. Every touch of your lips on her skin makes her sigh.

“Try not to mark me where people can see,” she whispers. “There’s only so much skin that makeup can cover without ruining my outfits, and foundation is really fucking expensive these days.”

(Now there’s the debate of whether that was a challenge or a precautionary measure. She’s always been a bit of a cheeky one: trying people on and giggling as she does so. You’ve been the victim of her antics before, but it’s kind of hard to deduce whether she’s telling you, don’t do it or inviting you to leave hickeys all over her neck and wherever you could get your lips on.)

“And if I do?” you can’t help but ask. Minju chuckles and pushes you away by your shoulders.

“Don’t.” She’s firm when she says it, almost like she’s chiding you for ever considering it. For a moment, you look each other in the eye as your breaths poke holes through the silence. It’s a little chilling yet a little thrilling, and you can’t help but take in the way she looks in the dim light of the night. In the midst of stumbling in, neither of you ever considered turning on the lights. She’s painted in soft strokes of moonlight, eyes shimmering in the gentle glow of night. Beautiful. She’s always been so beautiful, but never this beautiful. “I know you want to, but don’t,” she reiterates. You’re a little disappointed, but there are, of course, other ways to leave your mark on her.  

And so your hand snakes down and finds its way between her parted legs. Your other hand slithers around that small waist, and it holds her in place as your fingers press against the fabric of her panties. In your arms, she tenses—bristles as you start to feel the outline of her lips against your fingertips. You increase the pressure against her heat. Minju tilts her head back and moans.

Fuck. You don’t think you’ve ever heard such a sound: angelically filthy, airy and soft. It’s already hard enough to grasp the concept of her, one of your closest friends that you haven’t seen in a few good years or so, propped up on her own dining table while you trace the outline of her pussy through her panties and leave her squirming atop the wooden surface. Add the small choked up cries she’s making into the mix and by God do you have a recipe for a haze. Where to begin? This situation shouldn’t be real at all; none of this should be real, this should be a dream. This heat against your fingers. The sight of her mouth parted and her body twitching with each stroke of your fingers. The very realisation that this is as real as it gets, and it’s unfolding right before you by the second.

“Why are you so fucking wet?” you ask, noting the way she shudders as you let your finger hover over the base of her opening for a bit. Her thighs—pale skin painted in the lightest shades of moonlight—twitch in anticipation, almost as if the blood in her veins is loading up inside there and would shoot forward the moment you start moving again. She can’t predict what you’re gonna do next, and it’s killing her in a way that brings you this sick satisfaction. Minju whimpers; you chuckle. “Do you really want it this bad Minju? Has no one touched you like this before?”

(Her bottom lip quivers as she struggles to compose herself. She breathes: raspy and staccato. Strands of hair hang in front of her face, the same one that has this pleading look superimposed over bratty frustration. It’s hot, really satisfying and really challenging you take some liberties with her. Sure: it’d be really fun to just stuff her full of cock and just have your way with her right here and now, but where’s the fun in that? You’ve known her as this smart, preppy girl who’s always gotten what she wants because she’s smart and rich. You can't remember the last time you saw her fail. Maybe she did face a bit of a setback when she was starting out in university, but as far as you’re concerned, she’s in need of a bit of humbling.)

It’s all enough to drive anyone mad really. So you can’t really blame her when she cries oh god just fuck me already! at a volume that would probably get her a noise complaint from one of her neighbours. It’s a little jarring, and it makes you stop and look at her for a second or two. She looks back at you, giving you those fuck me eyes that you didn’t know she was capable of as she starts to bite down on her lower lip. 

With that face and that aura, she—whether unwittingly or not—painfully reminds you of Chaewon. That same bratty persona mixed with that undeniable look of need—it’s killing you to look her in the eye a she starts to grind herself against your fingers, pleading you to get on with it—please, please, please just strip me and fuck me and make me your good little toy—while she fixes you with that pleading look. Her doleful eyes coax you, and it feels dangerous to even look into them, let alone gaze into them as pulls you closer with her legs and grabs your shaft through your underwear.

“Tease me all you want later,” she squeezes your cock—sweet, sinful pleasure. Those weapons of a pair of eyes slice into the deepest depths of your mind, appealing to the darker part of you to let loose and take control. She wants it, needs it more than anything else right now. “You can finger me, eat me, whatever… Just put this fucking cock inside of me and make me scream before you do anything else.”

She’s given you a list of priorities, and they really speak volumes of her personality. Funnily enough, it’s pretty in line with her character: goal oriented and focused on that success rather than the process. You wonder what would happen if you refused to give her that final goal she so desperately craves; what it could do and to what extent would it break her. You take some time to consider this as you slip your hands into the spaces between the upper buttons of her shirt.

“Minju.” You call her name out of politeness in wake of what you’re about to ask her. “How much was this shirt?”

The glint in her eye when she catches your implicit message is enthralling. She pushes her bottom lip behind her front teeth; fixes you with this look that tells you that she's' about to say something that’s gonna satisfy your desires just because she can and she gets off on it.

“It’s Prada,” she tells you. “But I can always get another.”

You grin, and with more strength than intended, you pull against the fabric of the shirt. Unfortunate buttons go flying as the fabric parts forcefully like velcro ripping apart. Nothing tears (surprisingly), but the shirt is most definitely unwearable for a while. You hope she knows how to sow.

She gasps when the cold air of her apartment suddenly hits her skin. You can’t really blame her — it all comes in a rush after she is stripped from her sole piece of clothing. She takes a moment to assess the damage done to her clothes. Her eyes wander along the naked strip of fabric her shirt buttons once called home. Then she looks at you, smirks.

“Hot,” she muses, lowering herself down till she’s on her elbows. “But I think you can do better than that.”

You like a good challenge. And with not too much kindness in your voice, you tell her to get rid of the rest of her clothing. There’s a smouldering look in her eye, and a smirk on her face as she tosses her hair out of her face. Then while she holds your gaze, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulls them down — keeps going till there somewhere far enough down those long, creamy legs for her to kick them aside. 

“That was a limited edition piece, can’t have you tearing that,” she explains, looking at the freshly discarded article of clothing. “My bra though? I got it at a convenience store in Japan. Do your worst.”

The bra doesn’t survive. It’s a shame really… It looked kinda nice. 

And basking in your gaze is a very naked Kim Minju, her skin practically glowing on top of her table as she looks up at you with those eyes of want. You take a moment – admire the supple curves in all the right places and the way her skin seems to ripple a little as she shudders. Three’s no doubt in your mind that the surface she has her back against is cold as hell, but  Fuck… this probably was the best place to have her like this – she looks like a fucking meal.

“You know,” you whisper, your index finger roaming up her body – starting from the base of her belly button and making its way up an imaginary line that you’ve drawn on her body. “You’re kinda fucking perfect.”

She chortles. “Um… Contradictory much?”

“Spare me the lesson,” you mutter, cupping her cheek firmly yet tenderly. You have no idea what this feeling in your chest is right now, but you do know that it’s gonna take you down a path you never explored before. “Now I just wanna make a mess out of you.”

You don’t wait for a reply. Heck, you don’t even give her time to craft a reply. No teasing, no testing the waters; you just get your cock in your hand, line it up with her slit and pump yourself into her for the first time.

And even though she has this look of offence on her face, you know that this is probably the hottest thing she’s ever experienced. It’s a non-verbal statement that tells you that: her eyes burn with a heat you often see in Chaewon when she’s just being a downright bitch, yet her lips part and her head tilts back to let a moan be drawn out from the deepest parts of her. You don’t quite know how you’re processing these cues with the novel sensation of her hot cunt around your cock (it squeezes and pulses at just the right places that make you twitch inside her and it’s like… So fucking hot in there) that welcomes you into the depths of the woman beneath you. Every little thing is just hitting like a fucking sledge hammer now. You can feel her heat around you, burning like fire in this cold apartment. Alcohol must really be setting in.

Minju takes a moment to collect herself, and after she does, she looks at you to send another non-verbal cue your way. 

This one means fuck me.

This whole situation is far from sophisticated; a little more filthy than you care to admit. It’s not what you’re used to with the other women you’ve been with. Eunbi likes teasing, Ryujin likes to play around a little; Karina is just downright submissive, Yeji a little more subservient than she lets on; Chaewon is… well, Chaewon – bratty and really whiny when she fucks.

But Minju? This is a whole new chapter for you. 

First impressions tell you that she’s just downright needy; a little bratty like Chaewon as she starts to whine a little while you start pumping in and out of her slick heat. Her legs lock around your waist, feet crossed behind your back. She pulls you in each time you thrust into her – pulls you deeper into her warmth and moans a little louder when you hit the right spot. You match her speed, and soon you're thrusting her with firm, fast strokes. It makes her throw back her head for a bit, a cry leaving her straining throat as she sets rolls with this tempo.

Her torso remains supported on her elbows, her small breasts that sit proudly atop her chest bouncing with each smack of your crotch against hers. She realigns her gaze with yours. Her eyes stay wide open, gazing right into yours as she holds your attention with this debauched gaze that makes your mind fill with wild, wild thoughts. You’re fucking her on the table, but you’re thinking about what it’d be like to have her against the wall, against the counter, on her knees; riding you on her couch, jumping on your cock on her bed…  

This woman is gonna fucking ruin you.

“Chaewon said that the dick was fucking good,” she’s quipping between her moans, and you know it’s taking considerable effort for her. She has to close her eyes when she speaks, and in doing so she frees you from her hypnotic gaze. “No that it’s actually filling me… I think she could be downplaying how good you feel.”

And you have to smirk. “You think so ?”

Her eyes snap open, traps you yet again. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you feel inside me?” she gasps. You have to admit that it sounds a bit more like she’s demanding you to figure out how good she feels right now/ ow fucking good your dick feels in my pussy? How–ngh… How good you fuck me?”

Emphasis on ‘fuck’ tells you that she likes this pace, this no-nonsense playing field that you’ve established from the moment you filled her for the first time. She never struck you as one to like it rough, someone who likes it when it kinda stings when you fill her. Then again, you didn’t expect her to hold feelings for you either, so you guess the world just has a bunch of mysteries that you have to unpack in your own time.

Currently, you’re just trying to unpack how fucking good she feels around you.

“You’re fucking filthy,” you hiss through your teeth. “Never knew Miss valedictorian liked being railed like this.”

She smiles through her pleasure – a half-curl upturn of the corners of her lips as she lets the sighs and gasps freely depart from her open lips. It would be a cute smile if it weren’t for the fact that you’re literally fucking her on the same surface she eats on. Not that she has any problem with it; it’s just kinda telling of how badly she wants you right now. Pretty hot honestly – feels a little dark but you like the fact that she just couldn’t wait and just found the nearest flat surface she could spread her legs for you on.

“I’ll let you in on something,” and it really looks like she’s pushing back moans in her throat. She isn’t very successful. Effort is commendable though. “As sweet as any girl looks, we all kinda like being fucked like a slut.”

You manage a chuckle. “And does that apply for you?”

You love the way her eyes gleam. She lets herself lie flat on her table. 

“That’s for you to find out.”

And you understand why she’s laid herself across the table for you. It’s an invitation to her body, a request for you to touch the parts of her and hold her like she’s yours. She’s watching you intently, waiting to see what you’ll do while you keep pumping in and out of her. You respond by grabbing her shoulders, pulling her up straight till her chest flushes against yours. Her hands wrap around your neck, her breath in your ear.

“Come on you pussy,” she drawls. “I’m not Chaewon or Eunbi, so stop fucking me like you’d fuck them.”

Your hands find purchase in the firm flesh of her ass. Your fingers dig into the skin.

Then you’re fucking her – hard, fast. It takes her by surprise, by storm. Her gasp is strained, her voice louder in your ear now that she’s dug her chin into your shoulder. Her arms tense around your neck, her thighs tighten around your waist. You can feel her start to tremble as she struggles to keep herself upright. She holds you tighter, closer. She starts to moan more than she gasps. Her sighs turn to whines, her whines to cries and then to keening. 

In a matter of seconds, she’s found herself lost in her own pleasure, willingly and blissfully letting herself slink beneath the steadily growing stream of perverse want and need that flows from her mouth. She doesn’t have any smart quips left in her, no lessons or lectures – just this burning ache for you and the meat between her legs. You can feel the throbbing in her pussy, hear the squelch of your cock sliding between her lips getting louder as you go faster. You want—so badly—to lose yourself in her warmth and her heat. You want nothing more than to just put your lips on hers and kiss her through this wave of passion you’re feeling. 

So—against her wishes—you put your lips on her neck, starting sucking. You sense hesitation in her body, but it quickly fades and she tips her head to the side. She lets you have your way with her, relenting against you and letting you nibble on her skin as you piston yourself in and out of her. 

“I hope you’re giving me something no other girl will experience,” she rasps. She’s shaking a little, her nails starting to dig into your back. “Fuck me like I’m the one that matters. I need it.”

You lift your lips off her neck. The skin is starting to change colour. “Minju,” you don’t know how you manage, but you just do. “You’re the best woman I’ll ever fuck.”

“Mhm?” she hums. It’s a little shaky and it’s high-key hot. “Is—mphm… is my pussy better than Chaewon’s?”

And there’s that common thread between her and your ex: that desire to know that they’re better than someone else. You’ll please her for tonight. “So much better.”

She quite literally twitches at that, reeling in the thought that she’s taking cock better than her friend ever would. “Ngh– am I tighter? Am I wetter?”

You move so that you can look her in the eye. “Shut up and let me fuck you, would you?”

The look in her eyes tells you that she’s proud of what she’s done. She lets her forehead press against yours. Her eyes close. “Okay… But only because I still kinda love you.”

How are you going to deal with her? With this?

You don’t. You dive back into the crook of her neck, lengthen your strokes into her. It’s all too much to handle right now. Too many emotions are in play; too many thoughts need attention. You just want her, no strings attached and no need to spout all this nonsense about love and wanting to be loved. You kinda hate her for it, so you fuck her harder. You don’t like that she’s bringing feelings into this like Chaewon, so you fuck her harder and harder till she’s almost crying. 

She loves it, every second of it.

“Yes,yes,yes…” you can tell that she’s trying not to lose it all together, or maybe you’re just projecting. You can’t shake the feeling that your silence in response to her confession tells her that you’re gonna let her live this fantasy down right now. “Oh god you… Oh my fucking god.”

For long minutes, there’s nothing on your mind except her. You love the way she tenses and relaxes in your grasp, how she lets her body respond freely to your movements; the way her milky, smooth skin starts to bead with sweat, her hair sticking to her back; how her voice is kinda hoarse, how her lips claim your earlobe and she bites a little. As much as she’s frustrating, she’s entrancing. She’s hot, admittedly tighter than some of the girls you’ve fucked but also charming in her own way. Her moans aren’t the guttural type you get out of Karina or Eunbi, but more like a gentle yet kinda sordid exclamation of pleasure. Her breath is hot on your skin, a little hotter than you expect, but hot nonetheless. Her slim figure rocks against you, jolting when you get yourself nice and deep in her cunt, turning her into a nice bundle of nerves.

“I… Fuck… I’ve wanted this for so long,” she gasps. “But you’re here, actually here and… Fuck you’re just so fucking hot.”

And you know that’s her way of telling you that you’re better in real life than you ever will be in her wildest dreams. She’s turned on by the fact that you’re here, in the flesh and fucking her the way she likes it. Even though she surrenders to you, she’s gotten her way tonight. You’re fulfilling her desires just by being here, and your rock hard shaft drilling its way inside of her is really just a cherry on top.

(She’s kinda right: as sweet as she is, she likes being fucked like a slut.)

Even though it’s kinda her fault, Minju is your distraction, your break from it all. You give in: lose yourself in her smell, in her skin, in her flesh.  You let yourself get absorbed in it all — her gasps, her cries; the way her pussy only gets tighter, the way her legs shake around you; the fire in your chest that drives your cock in and out of her cunt in firm, long strokes; the heat of her body against yours as she starts to tense in your grasp.

Then she’s cumming — a hot mess on her dining table as cock spears into her through her orgasm. Her walls clench around you, her nails claw at your back. She cries your name. She says she loves you over and over and over till the faculties of her speech give way and she goes a little slack in your arms. You revel in it, do your best to block out the parts that make you ache a little on the inside; fuck her through the wave of an orgasm she goes through and relish the feel of her tight pussy getting tighter and wetter. You don’t know how to put it into words, but all you can really say is that she’s fucking beautiful through it all – smutty art or maybe even straight up porn. 

When you join her, you don’t even ask if you can cum in her; she’s gotten enough of her way tonight. With a final few pumps into her, you relent to the tingling in your shaft and bury yourself inside her. Your grunt is rather guttural, your load hot inside of her slick wet cunt. She sighs, almost as if she’s welcoming it into her body. You savour the moment. It’s a treat for yourself. 

You stay like that for a bit — leaning against Minju and panting while you gather yourself again. She gently strokes your hair as she smiles at you, more than happy to keep you with her as you regain your bearings. 

And just because she can, she kisses you on the cheek.

You can’t meet her gaze much longer. You turn your gaze downwards as you remove yourself from her pussy, watching as the mix of your juices flow out of her freshly-fucked cunt. She hums as it flows down from her slit. 

“Forget what I said okay?” she requests, sounding remorseful as she takes your cheek in her hand. “You’re good at not taking things to heart, so do that for me, would you?”

You manage a small smile and nod. 

Then she kisses you, softly. 

“Thank you…” she breathes. “You just helped me delete some emails to you that I can never bring myself to send.”

***

You’re kinda in shambles to be honest.

Minju’s showering, which means that you have enough time to think about what your life has become. All these emotions are coming forth so suddenly, so quickly. You barely have time to process your school work and now this has come along and fucked you sideways. It makes your head hurt.

You decide to leave before she can get out of the shower. You can’t bear to see her again, but you do drop a text—Thanks for letting me crash. See you around—once you’re out of her apartment complex. You’re ashamed, but you were raised to know better than to leave without saying anything. But even though you do what you feel is right, something about what you’ve done doesn’t quite sit well with you. 

And you’re in the park when the realisation hits. On the bench, you bury your head in your hands.

You’ve done to Minju what Chaewon did to you.

Had this one sitting in the drafts for quit some time. Realised I actually never posted it so here it is I guess. Happy New Year everyone! Have this unedited work as a gift while I work on another fic because I can.

[nichuuu]

Analogous

Shin Yuna x Im Nayeon x M reader

(2nd instalment of De Selby)

Word count: 14k+

“A younger girl… And I’m talking much younger. Eight years younger than me I think.”

Normally, it feels like you’re worlds apart from Nayeon in her bed. You’re just her toy, her plaything, her doll.

Tonight though: it feels like she’s in the same world as you. She feels here — emotionally and physically present as her nails trace circles on your bare chest. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, or maybe even classic manipulation, but she feels like more than just someone who you fuck on the weekends.

“And you won’t be jealous?” you ask, indulging yourself and playing with her hair a little. She scoffs.

“You talk like we’re dating.” She shifts so that she has a cheek on your shoulder. A relationship with her wouldn’t really fly: she’s not gonna let you take care of her when she loves control more than anything. Still, it’s nice to dream about holding her hand sometimes. “I have no reason to be jealous, so why would I be?”

(It’s a question you’re asking yourself too honestly.)

“Dunno,” you muse, admittedly a little disheartened, “maybe it’s cause you’re kinda freaky… Just a thought.”

She smirks. “Trust me. A younger girl in this thing we’ve got going on isn’t gonna affect anything.” She starts tapping her nails against your chest. “Besides… You know you’re mine.”

Oh…

(Not sure how to feel about that last part.)

*

Last you checked: you weren’t expecting a guest today. 

“Uh,” you can’t help but mutter past her lips as you stagger back into your own apartment. She lifts her lips off yours out of consideration, and she takes a few moments to soak in the look of mixed emotions that has made its way onto your face. You don’t mean to be rude when you point at the other girl and ask, “do you wanna perhaps wanna, you know, fill me in on what’s going on here?”

Im Nayeon turns, looks over her shoulder, smiles. She turns back, cups your cheek with her hand. 

“Thought I’d bring some company tonight, just to spice things up.” Nayeon tells you, turning your head in a way that lets you get a good look at the younger girl standing at the door to your apartment. “Hope you don’t mind.” With her other hand, she makes a come hither motion, and tells the girl to close the door on her way in. The girl does as she’s told, and when she’s next to the both of you, Nayeon takes her by the hand and pulls her closer. 

“Introduce yourself sweetie,” Nayeon instructs—firm yet almost saccharine. Nayeon lets her thumb rub over the girl’s knuckles, a deceivingly sweet smile playing on her lips. “Tell him what we’ve rehearsed. Go on.”

She’s an eye-catcher for sure—the other girl, not Nayeon. Not that Nayeon isn’t already turning heads when she walks just about anywhere, but more that the other girl is just a rather far cry from what you're comfortable with. You’re so used to Nayeon’s gentle, piercing eyes that can probably break you with a look from her; those small, plump lips of hers that kiss you with precision and passion; those bunny cheeks that you love pinching so damn much that it probably should be considered an addiction. But this girl brings something new to the table, and you have to admit that it’s refreshing. 

Smoky, kinda innocent eyes that have a whole foot in the territory of doleful and another foot in the realm of entrancing; luscious long black hair; a face that could make just about anyone melt. Nayeon’s guest is certainly a few years younger than her, and certainly less lecherous than her senior at first glance. You don’t really know where or how Nayeon could pick up a girl that looks as sweet as this, and you certainly want to find out how a girl that looks like the textbook definition of ‘smoking hot’ could ever end up in a place like this. She’s clearly nervous, but you give her credit for being able to stand perfectly still with Nayeon’s hand starting to roam up her arm. 

“I’m Yuna… But you can call me whatever you want.”

The sentence has Nayeon’s fingerprints all over it, and you can assume with full certainty that she’s had this idea stewing in her head for at least a week or two. The smug grin on Nayeon’s face tells you that things are going according to plan, and her fingers latch themselves around Yuna’s forearm. 

“She’s a fun one to play with.” Now she’s directed her attention to you, looking right at you as she pulls the younger woman even close to the both of you: till you can literally feel Yuna’s breath in your ear. “A young little slut to spice things up.”

Nayeon takes her attention away from you, and with gentle hands on Yuna’s cheeks, she pulls the younger girl in for a kiss. It’s simple—no tongue or anything—but it’s enough to make the younger girl squirm a little where she stands. Nayeon’s clearly taking pleasure in this. Even with her lips locked with a girl younger than her, you can clearly see the whisper of a cheeky smile playing on the corners of her lips. You wonder if she’s gonna get more joy out of this than you at the end of the day.

The younger girl is released from the fierce lip-lock. She looks dazed, like she just took a hit of a blunt. Nayeon admires her craftsmanship for a moment, taking in the look on the poor girl’s face as she chuckles softly to herself, “oh my… Someone wasn’t quite ready, was she?”

Yuna’s at a clear loss for words. She tries to speak; her words fail her. You can’t exactly blame her though. Nayeon just kinda chooses when and where to be a bit of a minx, and you just have to roll with it. It’s fun, kinda hot; but not when you’re in a horrible place to get it and she decides that she just wants to blow you at some restaurant that you’re at. It’s a bit of a handful really, and you don’t quite know what to do with her sometimes. Wonder how Yuna fares?

“It’s okay,” Nayeon assures her, “you’re in good company now, though you're free to just watch if you’re still shy.”

The younger girl looks at her senior, then at you, then back to her senior. “I think I’d like to join in on this.”

Nayeon beams, her smile almost sweet if it isn’t for the fact that she’s quite literally happy to see a younger girl get it on with you and her. “That’s the spirit.”

And it’s confusing really: figuring out which of them is gonna make the first move. Yuna’s energy gives her an air of uncertainty, but you can sense some mischief within her that resonates at the same frequency of Nayeon’s. Yet there’s something a little different about her that you can’t quite place your finger on. Her youth is a breath of fresh air; there’s that young energy in her smile towards Nayeon that tells you that she’s eager but somewhat cautious. You would call her a mirror of Nayeon as they start discussing how she wants it, but you pick up on a bit of pickiness in her voice  that strays from Nayeon’s attitude. The older girl before you will take it however she likes, fuck herself on your cock till she cums and kinda leave you high and dry. Yuna on the other hand has some grungy ideas of where she wants you to cum and how she wants it to happen.

Okay, let’s return to home base and consolidate: they're similar but different; kinda conflicting yet go together like dinner and diatribes on a family reunion. There’s reason to believe that they are somewhat two sides of the same coin, yet simple observation contradicts the notion. Bottom line – it’s confusing.

“You know what?” Nayeon has a finger twirled in Yuna’s hair as she casts a glance at you. “How about we get you naked first… Then we figure out what we can do?”

Yuna seems to enjoy the proposal. The two women look at you, and Nayeon gestures with her head to come closer. As your feet land on the wood floor, Nayeon goes at a slower pace of walking as she rounds Yuna and stands behind her. She’s shorter than her by a considerable amount, but it doesn’t make her any less imposing as she pokes her head out from Yuna’s right side.

“Go on. Unwrap her,” Nayeon whispers, running a hand up Yuna’s stomach. “Let’s see what she has in store for us…”

And Yuna is more than glad to lift her arms up for you as you pull her sweater off her body. The girl has an amazing body – you’d give her that. Slim waist, wide hips, hourglass figures so defined that the sands of time would be jealous. A body to die for really, and the appeal only increases as she reaches behind her back and unclips her bra. Nayeon smiles as she tosses her article of clothing aside. 

“Tight and forthcoming?” The older woman muses. “Looks like we have quite the toy on our hands.”

Yuna’s gaze is almost searing as you step up to her. Her breathing is kinda unsteady, but you can’t exactly blame her. She’s half naked in front of two older people, with one of them running her hands along her smooth skin while the other cock their head and examine her from head to toe. If you were in her shoes, your blood would be racing and boiling fast. 

“Do what you want with me,” she whispers. She reaches forward and grasps your crotch through your pants. “I’m yours to take.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did Nayeon teach you that?”

“Nope.” Speak of the devil and she doth answer on the younger woman’s behalf. “I only told her how to introduce herself, didn’t tell her what to say after,” Nayeon explains, a glint in her eye as she stares up at Yuna’s face. “Is it kinda fucked up if I wanna see her suck your dick?”

Yuna glances at her senior, then returns her gaze to you. “A little… But we can make it happen.”

Another point of difference – 2 actually: she doesn’t play around with her words and she’s pretty proactive. You like that. 

It’s a mess as you fumble with clothes, but it doesn’t take long for you guys to rid Yuna of the rest of her clothing and have her on her knees in the living room carpet. Her hands are delicate as she pulls down on the waistband of your boxers and frees your cock, and their even more so when she grips your throbbing shaft with both hands. On the chair that Nayeon pushed you onto, you watch her eyes as they survey what she’s working with.

“Wow…” she mutters, looking over to the right where Nayeon’s lounging on the sofa. “You had this all to yourself?”

Nayeon’s lips slant at an angle. “I know right? Better than any dildo you can find on the market.”

Yuna takes a moment to really look at the cock in her hands, eyes full of lustful wonder as she takes it in from all angles. She lets her mouth hang open for a little as she processes what she’s seeing, then she asks, “how does she even walk the next morning? I mean… This thing is girthy as fuck. Would probably split me open if I’m not careful.”

“It won’t,” Nayeon answers rather spontaneously, tapping her finger against a cushion as she watches Yuna pump your shaft with her lanky fingers. “It’ll fill you just right,” she leans against the handrest of the couch, watching intently as you push away some hair from Yuna’s face, “though I think it’ll look the best in your mouth.”

Yuna gets the gist. Her cheek presses itself against the inside of your thigh as she lifts your shaft and kisses it at the base, and she works her way up to the tip while one hand keeps your twitching cock steady. She gets to your head, and her lips take the sensitive part of you about halfway in, making sure you're looking (and you mean, like, really looking) as she lets her tongue lick the precum off from your leaking tip. Once she’s certain that she has your fullest attention, her jaw slacks and her shoulders rise; she takes a breath, closes her eyes.

There’s the hiss of an inhale — from you — as your head tilts back against the backrest while your cock enters the warm wet tavern of her mouth. She’s almost methodical in the way she takes you in, stopping halfway to adjust the angle of her head so that she can push forwards and down and drive the rest of your meat into your mouth. Her hands steady her, resting against your thighs as she tears a little. She’s a little more patient than her senior, waiting for a bit before she starts moving at a steady pace. Spit’s starting to drip down to her chin – will probably ruin the carpet if you cared enough (and you don’t). Nayeon’s been meaning to change this damn thing anyway. It’s seen too many juices and some dog piss in it from when her pomeranian was over those few times.

“Jesus,” is all you can hiss, through closed teeth of course. The young girl is nothing short of heavenly; she’s almost perfect at taking your dick as she starts to bob her head. The gurgling is kinda loud; spit flows like a stream down your shaft, only to be collected by that fastidious mouth as it traces a path – up and down and up and down. You wonder if there’s some make-up to be ruined.

“Won’t you look at that?” And you don’t even need to look over at the couch to know that Nayeon’s playing with herself. The squelching tells you lots, but the way her speech is kinda breathy tells you more than you need to know. She’s probably really turned by the sight of a younger woman taking cock into her mouth, riled up at the sight of tears flowing down her youthful cheeks. It’s borderline voyeuristic, pretty fucking freaky but also kinda hot. That’s her whole brand anyway. “She’s fucking taking your dick. My god…”

Yuna gurgles on your dick – probably some reply she’s trying to give but fails to because she has dick in her mouth. The suckle of her lips; the slide of her tongue against the base of your shaft; her throat kinda convulsing as she struggles and struggles – you don’t know if it’s all gonna be a bit too much, but now you’re really focusing on not trying to hurt her while your hands grab a handful of her hair in a fist. You’re assisting—or maybe forcing… Low-key goes both ways when there’s a very, very fine line between the two in this context—her, pulling her into your crotch and pushing her off just to pull her in again. It’s a vicious cycle – kinda doubling on the meaning while also butchering it: harsh and repetitive but there’s not a fucking instance where this produces a detrimental result.   

She comes up for air, your shaft pretty much dripping with spit as she takes a moment to gather herself. The gasping is hot, and so is the way she wipes her spit towards her mouth with the back of her hand. “God this is… Fuck...” she mutters, licking her lips while her fist is in constant fluid motion. Bruce Lee would be proud: she is like water.

“Keep it up darling,” the motions of Nayeon’s wrist have gotten quite sharp, sudden and lacking interval. Okay, maybe not sudden, but more… Desperate. It’s not like she isn’t gonna get her fair share of cock or anything, but she hasn’t been over for a while. There’s only so much that a vibrator and her fingers can do; she kinda needs to see it and revel in it for her to actually get off properly. You don’t know if watching a young girl take dick into her mouth is softening the blow dealt to her senses, but you kinda know that it’s still doing a number on her because she’s completely hiked up the hem of her dress to fuck herself with her fingers. There’s not much thought behind her actions, but she’s definitely letting herself go a little wild for the night. She is being indulged after all. 

“Am I doing good?” Yuna inquires, and it’s a question directed to both of you really. You give her a nod; Nayeon’s answer is verbal: Keep that up and you’re gonna make two people cum in the next five minutes. The young girl is pleased. She lets her tongue swirl around your tip, lick the cock before her from base to tip and sneak in some scissoring flicks of her tongue. Your hand finds itself on her cheek, thumb massaging the bone just above the flesh as she giggles and tosses her hair.

“You’re a doll,” you tell her. She smiles.

“That’s one of the many names I’ve been called,” she replies, letting your spit-covered head rub against her cheek. “Though I like the name cumslut the most.”

Oh.

Your grip on her cheek becomes more firm. “Okay then,” and your pushing her to the left so that her lips are in line with your head. “Open wide you fucking cumslut.”

The enthrallment in her eyes is apparent. Obedient, subservient, forthcoming, whatever; she parts her lips and lets her tongue hang out. Her eyelids flutter shut. You pull her forward. Nayeon cusses.

You're unbelievably hard in her mouth, and your member is ever so sensitive to every movement inside those cheeks of hers. The softness of her tongue, slickness of her drool, warmth of her cheeks… Too much to focus on with so little space for appreciation. You settle on fixating on the suction, the sweet vacuum her lips form around your length as she quite literally lets her mouth get used. Two hands around her head – pulling, pushing, pulling, pushing. A hot rhythm, not quite a dance but kinda cyclical like a routine. More perverse than any street jazz choreo you’ve seen though.

“Yuna,” you mutter, “ you’re so – fuck I – ugh… Your mouth.”

Somewhere in her throat, there’s space for a hum. Her hands are behind her back, locked in place by her own accord as she lets you fuck her mouth with no qualms. It’s smooth, almost natural till she gags a little on your dick and has to blink a bit. Slip n’ slide; front and back – she just takes your cock like an obedient little slut. It’s amazing, kinda dark, but still amazing nonetheless. The gurgling and the sound that comes from her throat that’s almost like swallowing; your fingers grasping the silky strands of her hair; eyes meeting hers. Fuck. 

You're desperate for a taste of heaven. You pull her down harder, faster. 

She gags, chokes, sucks a little harder. 

“Fuck this,” Nayeon hisses. “I’m joining in.”

And she straddles you before you can even blink, kissing you fiercely like she’s gonna die the next day and this is the last time she’s seeing you. Somewhere along the way, she’d shed her clothes. Now she’s nude and kissing you, jabbing her tongue into your mouth and exploring the feel of your teeth. Your cheeks are hers to hold, your mouth hers to own. 

She breaks the torrid kiss, “Yuna,” she drawls, playing with your hair as she speaks to the girl while looking at you. “Don’t ruin him too much. Leave some fun for me.”

The vibrations sent down your shaft make you tingle from head to toe – a product of Yuna’s attempted reply. You can’t see her anymore, but you can continue to just flow with the movements of pulling and pushing against her hair as Nayeon dives between her legs to get back to work. The older woman lets a sigh escape from her lips, pushing her fingers a little deeper. You can feel the heat against your crotch. Her hands move a little faster.

“Do you have any idea,” she whispers, her voice kind of striking that middle frequency between the gurgling and the squelching. “How fucking pent up I was in that damn dorm?”

Through your teeth, you reply. “No,” and you kinda twitch a little in Yuna’s mouth. “Do tell.”

She leans in, moans into your ear for good measure. “I was dripping every other day,” she reports, a lilt in her voice as she continues her work between her thighs. “Didn’t help that Momo was bringing a guy over and I could hear them fucking through the walls… My vibrator almost died that week.”

“Well…” you shudder as you speak, a familiar tingle building up from the base of your shaft. "You’ll have to wait your fucking turn.”

She smiles, quite sadistically you might add.

“That’s alright,” she tells you. Her forehead pressed against yours. “Just leave a load for me.”

And you have to hit her with an honest reply. “I’ll always have a load for you.”

“That’s what I thought.” She straightens her back and looks down at you. “I own this dick,” she announces to her audience of two. “Now cum in her mouth. I’m gonna get her to fucking swallow your load.” The orders are barked, not said. “I wanna watch.”

And she turns her toned back to you, leaving you with the view of the delicious curve of her back as she arches it while slicking her fingers with her own juices. You’re trying to hold on, desperately, but there’s only so much you can do when the mouth around you and the two women before you are this hot.

You don’t get to see it when it happens, but you can hear it and kinda imagine it when you cum right into Yuna’s mouth. You bet it’s kinda messy, but you’ll never know. Nayeon’s ass blocks the view – a trade off: view for a view. You hear the older woman hiss her commands—“Swallow. Fucking swallow you filthy little whore”—envison the sight of the young woman struggling to down your load as it pumps ito her wet hot mouth. A groan spills from your lips; a long-drawn sigh filters from Nayeon’s chest; Yuna gulps as she takes it all.

Your dick pops out of her mouth, all messy and slick with juices. Nayeon grabs it, pumps it, and without warning – shoves it into her cunt. 

And all at once it becomes too much: your over stimulated member twitches wildly in the grasps of her slick, hot walls as it begs for a break. The pleasure is horribly abundant, so much that it almost hurts. There’s no time to process the tight heat around you, voice your need for a break. Nayeon starts bouncing on her knees.

“Oh fuck yes.” Her hands shoot behind her, the left one failing to catch the handrest the first timebut gripping it tightly on the second attempt. Her knuckles go white. “I needed this. I needed to be filled by this fucking cock of yours.”

It’s too much; another load surges forth almost instantly. The hot semen paints her walls, shoots up from your already over-sensitive head and flows down her cunt. It leaks out; the squelching gets louder. Yuna’s tongue laps up the mix of juices that flow. Nayeon continues to ride.

Your fingers dig into the flesh of her waist, desperate to assist you in grounding yourself in this seemingly unreal reality. There’s a lack of words that can really describe your predicament, and if you’re to actually bring it across in a coherent sentence, it’ll probably something along the lines of “fuck” repeated at least a million times. You’re stuck in the chain of entry and exits of her pussy, a bundle of nerves beneath Im Nayeon while she mercilessly fucks herself on your cock. Right now: your dick is nothing but a mere toy for her to get off on, and she made that very clear from the moment she started throwing herself down onto your dick.

“Nayeon…” you heave. It’s an effort to even breathe.

“Shut it,” she hisses, not even casting a glance behind her. “I’m cumming on this cock one way or another and I don’t care how many fucking loads you give me.”

Yuna crawls around to the side of the chair. You hazard a glance at the young girl. She’s messy, sweaty and has residues of cum and drool at some areas around her mouth. She reaches out into the chair and takes you by the hand, squeezing it tightly in hers as if she knows that you’re fucking fading by the second. Every slam of Nayeon’s crotch against you is a mix of pleasure and pain, her moans almost like animalistic grunts.

“Fuck… You’re really filling her,” Yuna muses, watching the older girl take her liberties with your dick. “She must be so fucking tight right now.”

You swallow. “Yeah… It’s… Fuck…”

Yuna chuckles. Watching you struggle must kinda humour a little. She gives your hand a squeeze, encouraging you to hold on to what grasp of this world you have left. Her eyes sparkle, almost envious as she sees her senior bouncing on the dick she was taking into her mouth just a few moments ago. Her other hands snakes between her legs, flits circles of respite. Two girls getting off before you, similar but different.

Go ahead. Call this shit Tuesday.

*

“Be nice to her when I’m gone.”

You aren’t sure why Nayeon would need such a huge suitcase for a 10 day trip with her family. There’s no doubt in your mind that there’s probably tonnes of products in there that she wants to bring along for the fuck of it, but the damned thing looks like it was harbouring a small child. Not that Nayeon would ever do that, but it does help to paint a clearer picture of the sheer scale of her luggage. The airport X-ray is about to have a field day with this.

“Of course.” You’re kinda obvious about your ogling from the doorway as Nayeon does her hair with nothing but her leggings on. Yuna is still fast asleep in the room that you’d prepared for her, but you still kept your volume down just to play it safe. 

Nayeon smirks at you through the mirror. “I’m sure she’ll feel right at home with you.”

“Is that sarcasm I’m hearing?”

“Take it however you like. My eyes are up here by the way.”

You chuckle and walk up behind her. “Guilty as charged mademoiselle,” you apologise, though you're not all that ashamed of th fact that she’s caught you in th act of fucking her with your eyes.

Nayeon hits you with a scoff, a rather aloof one that screams ‘got you. Thought you were slick huh?’ even though it was within your fullest intentions for her to catch you looking. She had to be fair to you in this situation — kinda hard to look at anything else. Or maybe you’re misjudging her, maybe she knows full well that you were (and still are) catching a good look at those firm, perky mounds that sit proudly atop her chest. They fit perfectly in your hands, quite like a glove—OJ Simpson would hate that it fits that well—and a nicely-fitted set of bed sheets. What the fuck does that even mean? Frankly, you can’t quite put an explanation to it yourself; you’re kinda listing things that sound and feel right to you — things that give something enjoyable that little kick it needs to become something more congenial. 

(That sort of encapsulates her whole personality honestly. She’s already something to relish, cherish; the type of girl that makes other guys say ‘she’s a keeper’ even though they don’t have the slightest idea of what she really was like beyond cameras and public appearances. Kinda horny all the time, but also wants to cuddle you to sleep and call you all sorts of pet names after you’ve blindfolded and fucked her against three different flat surfaces – maybe breaking some expensive furniture in the process. Dominant, a little stubborn and a little pissy. Need you say more?)

“But for real: make her feel at home,” she says, setting down the curling iron and switching it off. She leaves it to cool down, puts on a sweater while she waits. “Poor girl’s been through enough. I promised her a safe haven, so try to make it one.”

The context behind her request is a little baffling. Just this morning Nayeon told you of Yuna’s falling out with an alleged highschool sweetheart, and she's taking shelter with you guys till legal matters are dealt with and she’s safe and sound. Guy started stalking her apparently, threatened her once or twice too. Fun times we live in.

Helping her hook the clasp of her necklace, you assure Nayeon that only your best effort would go into creating a safe space for her younger companion. Not to brag, but you’re pretty good at making friends—trust me. We’ll be tight before you even know it—with strangers. It’ll be like walking the dog; easy peasy. You get the idea right? Kinda running out of sayings. Nayeon seems pretty pleased with your promises.

“If you guys have fun, do send some videos,” she tells you, opening her drawer to pull out a pair of jeans. “I’ll be missing out on a lot if you don’t. That girl has a body even I wanna ravage.”

“So cock is not enough, huh?” you tease. She flicks her eyes to the mirror.

“Who said it wasn’t enough?” She cocks her head and makes eye contact through the mirror. “I literally ride you till you’re sore. Yuna’s just… an add-on. Like a side dish if you will.”

You chortle. “And I’m the main course?”

“Nope,” she giggles, unfolding her jeans. “That would be me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“If you want an admission of my wrongs, you’ll have to fuck it out of me.”

And she meets your eyes in the mirror. You smile, knowing that she’ll probably let you get away with this one.

“It’s really a shame…” you sigh. “These leggings were, like, really nice.”

*

Couple minutes later you’re giving her a kiss on the cheek as she hurries for the taxi that arrived five minutes ago. In the midst of the commotion, Yuna emerges from her room dressed in one of your shirts – just in time to wave goodbye to her senior before Nayeon slips away. You're not too sure if she’s fully registered the fact that she’ll be stuck with you for a full week, but hopefully once the realisation sets in, you’d already have made her comfortable. 

You turn. The way you meet her gaze is kinda awkward. She has a look of intrigue on her face as she rubs her arms and gazes back at you with those doleful eyes.

You clear your throat. “You uh… You like omelettes?”

*

On your phone screen, Nayeon just kinda stares back at you with a hundred-yard-stare type of look. Hotel wifi has her video freezing at a rate that would make Elsa proud, and she’s barely a human through all the pixelated fuck-what that clouds in front of her.

“I feel like we're focusing on vastly different things here, Nayeon.” You’re hoping that she can hear your voice over the roaring silence of shitty network bandwidth. “Not even a day too… I’m pretty sure the poor girl’s scared shitless of me.”

And while Nayeon’s video and audio buffer, it’s a good time to remind yourself of your mistake. Not that you forgot it or anything, but you just gotta make sure that everything that you tell Nayeon is accurate.

So it turned out that Yuna and breakables don’t really go well together. Nayeon seems to have forgotten to ask you to read some fine-prints, and you basically went in raw when you witnessed  the young girl’s clumsiness. Quite the butter-fingers: she broke a mug and a plate in one slip of her tray from her hands. The sound of shattering porcelain jarred her, and as she attempted to move out of her mess, the Dad in you spurred you to cry out in panic. Don’t move! you practically roar. Poor thing flinched like she’s being held at gun-point, started shivering a little as you rushed over to clear up the shards. You don’t quite know how to comfort her, and so you just tell her to just eat in her room if she’s uncomfortable. She took you up on that, and that ended the first non-sexual interaction you had with her.

Way to go… You deserve a star.

By the time you’re done pacing the room and have thrown yourself onto the bed, Nayeon reconnects back to the call. She’s in a bathroom, wearing airpods and sitting in what looks like a bathtub. From the fact that she's wearing a robe, you’ll bet good money on the really (and you can’t stress this enough) high chance that she’s wearing nothing else beneath that.

“Five star hotel and I get two bars of wifi everywhere except the damn toilet,” she huffs. Guess you were right about what the two of you were focusing on. No prizes for being right though; life’s a bitch. “Anyway, don’t think too much about it. She’s clumsy but she’s not unaware. I’m sure she’ll understand where you’re coming from.”

“Honestly”—you slide under the covers and heave a huge sigh—“I think I might find my thirteenth reason if she hates me tomorrow.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes. Yes: she’s painfully aware that you certainly won’t kill yourself over the fact that you may or may not have made a girl re-live her trauma, but the knowledge of that doesn’t stop her from expressing her disdain towards your little joke.

“Sleep on it. You’ll be fine tomorrow,” she assures you, now in full resolution and crystal clear audio and image. She segways into something else, “By the way, check out the link I’m sending you.”

Toilet wifi is truly doing her wonders cause you get the link in question right after she says it. And you aren’t sporting a fedora when you confidently identify the source as a Reddit thread, but it feels like you should be heading online to buy one and get it delivered via next-day delivery. (Ugh… You can feel the word m’lady threatening to burst forth from your mouth already.) Yuck.

Clicking on the link brings you to a community you’re no stranger to. You’ve heard of it once or twice, but never really had the time or energy to delve into the posts. Nayeon seems to have done some homework though — you’re taken to a very specific post, a clip that kinda blew up when it debuted. 

It takes no Oppenheimer to draw the conclusion that the post addresses Nayeon herself, and she’s clad in that all black bodysuit from that one Talk That Talk performance that hugs her figure and really makes all the curves on her body pop. You’d know: you fucked her in this outfit; railed her on the bed from the back with a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs on her wrists if you want specifics. And if you want even more details: she didn’t let you cum till she’d came 3 times. Fun.

It’s a stunning outfit, and the appeal of the wonders it does to Nayeon’s body is only emphasised by how she runs her hands up from her hips, tracing the hourglass shape of her figure before she flips her hair. A pretty good Gif. Seems to have all 1410 commenters on their knees.

Now mind you: you’re on speaker phone with her right now. With that in mind, it sure as hell feels like Nayeon’s in the room with you as low sighs and salacious squelching starts filtering through Nayeon’s microphone and into your ears. A quick glance at the call window (that’s so helpfully converted to a small rectangle at the top right-hand corner of your phone) confirms 2 things while surprising you with a third find:

1) She’s very much naked under that robe. A bit of a no-brainer

2) She’s playing with herself – legs wide open and one of them (you can’t be arsed to really say which one) propped up on the rim of the bathtub as juice-slicked fingers work themselves between flushed folds.

3) The whole reason you can see the stuff in 2) is attributed to the fact that she's somehow leaned her phone against something in that bathtub to give you an almost artistic view of her. Emphasis on ‘almost’ because the close-up of her pretty, pink pussy is foreground to an even more sordid display of her half-lidded eyes and parted lips — baseness personified really.

Yuna becomes a secondary thought. “So… Has anyone told you that you’re kind of freaky?”

“Hey. I’m just a girl,” she muses, the look on her face a strong contender for the symbol of pure depravity. “Read the comments would you?”

“Twitter’s a much better place for this if—”

“Just stop being a smartass and read the fucking horny comments.”

You’re not intimidated by the aggression behind her voice for once, and it’s probably because she isn’t here to edge you if you don’t shut up. You take a moment to admire just how good she looks in this seemingly sempiternal display of what looks like lust itself, the Gif looping at least 3 times while you’re at it (and it’s like, the best 14 seconds of your life). The sun hits her at just the right, illuminating the best parts of her while shadows further define the shape of her curves – bringing forth the swell of her hips while making her tits and ass look bigger by a rather generous amount. Frankly, she looks good in just about anything really. Clothes on or off; hair tied up or let down; lingerie or fancy dress; lace or solid, she is the embodiment of sex.

“Hurry the fuck up,” she hisses, and it’s dripping with lethal lust and desire like venom from serpent fangs. Okay… There’s some mutual interest here with you and Nayeon. You’ll oblige.

“How nasty are we getting?” you inquire, all while you work the waistband of your pants down past your crotch so that your cock can spring free. You enlarge the window of the call, silently hypnotising yourself with the sight of Im Nayeon’s hand busying itself between her legs. “Are we going from the tame ones and progressing or…”

The look on her face tells you that she doesn’t give a shit; and she’s about this close to ending this filthy call and getting off on her own. Better conscience guides you to pick a random comment from the middle and get going with it.

“This one’s a thought provoker,” you preempt, scanning through the rather raunchy statement left behind by some undoubtedly turned-on user. “It says, ‘I wonder what she tells her stylist when she has to wear such outfits. It's like she must be really asking: I want something that will reveal my whole curvy figure. Nayeon is really the best girl’.”

“Mnph…” — she tilts her head back and lets out a gasp – an implosive suction of air that’s sharp yet so pleasing to your ears. “Curvy and… What was that again?”

“Best girl,” you reiterate, watching with a half-parted mouth as your hand matches the pace of Nayeeon’s fingers pumping in and out of the wet mess on the screen, “looks like someone’s got an eye for details.”

“They’d better. I think I looked fucking hot in that thing.”

You could second that opinion, though it was probably in your best interest to keep reading. This is basically your equivalent of putting fries into bags. You’re kinda okay with it, but you’re struggling to read this next one because of its horrible grammar, “her pussy must feel like heaven. With a tight body like that, she must know how she’s draining balls around the world.”

In the bathtub, she twitches. Her ring and middle finger are drenched when they’re removed from her pussy, but they don’t rest and find solid ground on her clit. They rub circles into Nayeon’s swollen nub, no doubt applying just the right amount of pressure onto the area while Nayeon is breathing all shaky and sounds like she’s been winded. In your books: this is basically her doing a backflip over the fine line between freaky and kinky, and basically exposing you to some new kink that she’s probably picked up from Sana.  If any of these commenters ever really had a sliver of an idea of what she’s really like behind the scenes, you doubt that the comments would be as merciful as this. Anyway, next.

“I bet she likes it raw. She probably loves being a good little fucktoy who takes unprotected dicks into that tight pussy and letting load after load fill her. I mean” —Nayeon starts to shudder a little, quaking and sighing as you get to the more explicit section of his comment—“she’d probably like it if I just ripped that dress off her body and spread her legs. She’ll moan like a slut when I put it in her and just start doing her raw. Imagine the way her tits will bounce. Fucking slut, she was made to be bred.”

She lets out this moan – inexplicable and undescribable. She urges you to keep going. You do just that.

“I want her mouth so bad. Bunny has those dick sucking lips that are made for cock, probably gives mad head and is so fucking sloppy with it. I bet she’ll let the drool drip from the corners of her mouth while she takes me in all the way, and she’ll probably thank me with her eyes when I grab her by the hair and start fucking her throat. I’m gonna destroy that pretty little face so bad, leave her so fucking messy and ruined that she’ll have to stop singing for at least a week. When I cum, I’m gonna make sure it goes down her throat and get some on that slutty face. She’s earned it.”

You’re watching her, pumping your fist around your cock while she lets her jaw slack and lets her moans sort of tumble from her mouth in batches. “More,” she pleads, fingers trembling as she lets her free hand slip beneath her robe and start giving attention to her tits. You’d kinda kill to see them now, but this view will have to do. “Read more. I want to hear it.”

“They're getting nastier,” you inform her. “This whole thread of comments is just 3 guys discussing how they want to share you in a gangbang.”

“Fuck yes. Please…”

She never finishes the sentence, but you get the gist. You persist. 

The next one is kinda paraphrased, partially because you’re projecting your own fantasies while simultaneously deciphering what this guy is trying to say across 5 separate comments. 

“I want nothing more”—and it’s getting really hard to breathe while Nayeon’s fucking herself senseless halfway across the world. Maybe if she hadn’t worn those damned airpods, you wouldn’t be hearing every single sordid little sound she makes (gasps, sighs, moans and a bunch of phonetic mish-mash that began with the letter ‘o’). You can’t tell if she’s already lost to the haze of pleasure, and even if she hasn’t she’s probably holding on by a thread thinner than hair; on the way there and probably reaching within the next five minutes—“than to pound her little pussy raw and give her a fat load.”

“Oh my fucking god…” she’s descending a little further into her own head, sinking beneath the sheer thrill of masturbating while her partner reads out all the perverse things that people would do to her. Her breaths are almost desperate – earthy and kind of like a product of raw emotion; akin to a groan or maybe even a grunt. At the same time, it’s like she’s struggling to take in the air she needs, fighting to find a reason to take a breath and distract her from this debauched world that she’s dived into. It isn’t just her mind that’s twisted here, but the minds of others too.  “Keep going. I need to know how they’re gonna ruin me.”

You’re trying to memorise the next line so you can watch, watch the subtle twitch in her right leg and the grunt-moan hybrid that’s produced from that pleasure stricken throat; the way she becomes a bundle of nerves like you and just starts losing it; the way her fingers go from rubbing to fluttering small circles of heavenly release into her body; the way the round breast that’s slipped out of the robe ripples with each movement from her shoulder. You’re more than happy to watch really; be a witness to the act of her bringing herself to the point of no return as she practically brims with pleasure and bliss that she’s bringing herself. You’re reading is like an add-on, some sick twisted DLC if you really think about it (you’re not really thinking much, but it’s a fun thing to consider). It’s quite like making a drink, albeit a little bit butchered – she’s pouring herself a glass while you wipe the rim with a lemon. The alcohol can spill on your fingers for all you care, you just wanna watch her make it overflow. 

TL;DR: you really wanna make her cum.

“I’ll fuck her mouth while you take her pussy”—this one is read word-for-word, verbatim, letter-for-letter. You like how it’s phrased, not quite poetry but beautiful in its own way—“make her gag on this cock till she’s ruining her mascara. We cum together. Give this little slut the spit roast creampie of her life.”

She half-sigh-half-moans – the type of noise she’d make when she’s on her back and being fucked into the mattress. She shifts, undoes the knot holding her robe together and lets the thing part from the middle and falls at her sides. Leaning back against the end of the bathtub, her pleading comes in the form of whines, soft ones that kinda float around the room while she endeavours to work her fingers a little harder. A free hand kneads her breast. Your breath hitches, cock pulsing in your fist as she arches her back and starts to gasp. You read the next lines, the boner-fueled words of some guy who probably had his cock in his hand while typing this out.

“I want her ass. I’ll make her ride it while she takes it up that bubble butt, then you guys an still fuck her pussy and mouth. She’ll be so messy, probably dripping from her pussy and her mouth while three dicks fuck the shit out of all three of her holes. You know what? I bet she’ll enjoy it. The slut flaunts her body like it’s a fucking prize. She’s asking for it.” 

There are like 2 more comments, but you never quite make it to the next parts. With a cry, Nayeon leans forward in the bathtub. She digs her fingers back into her slit, restarts the squelching and lets your speakers flood with a sordid symphony; squelch after squelch after squelch feels like music to your ears.  “Your cock.” It’s a demand, really raunchy, kinda racy and really (and you really mean really) fucking raw. Can’t quite figure out which part of her strips her of the filter that takes away the pure intoxicating venom that coats her words, but you couldn’t really give more of a shit right now. It’s hot, like, really fucking hot. “Show me your cock. Let me see you stroke it.”

And it’s almost at once that you switch back to the call and flip your camera around. You’ve been going at the same tempo for some time now, and you hope Nayeon can see the utter mess she’s made of you – precum leaking from your tip and your head all swollen and red. She moans, slips another digit inside of her and starts working all three of her fingers harder inside of her. 

“Ngh… I really wish that I could be filled with your cock right now,” she drawls. You’re not too sure if she knows that she’s projecting a shared desire right now. It’d be great to feel those warm walls wrapped around your shaft, slicking it with her juices while she rides you at a steady pace. Fuck… She’s ruining you, isn’t she? “With me baby. Cum. Make a mess for me.”

Her words are a little jumbled, but coherence doesn't really matter when she’s spitting pure filth from her lips. It doesn’t take long for either of you to get there, but you like to think that you meet her where she already is and kinda just go from there. At least that’s what you tell yourself as she convulses and is marred by her orgasm, and your cum leaks down your shaft and flows over your knuckles while you watch Your respective cameras capture it all – witnesses the mess you make at the hands of each other (and yourselves). You have to take a second, sit in the warm puddle of your own mess. It’s pooled on your stomach; cleaning up’s gonna be a chore.

“God…” Nayeon breathes. “Always wanted to try this.”

“Guessed as much,” you reply, sitting up in your bed and looking around for tissues. You spot a box of them on your desk. Great.

“Gotta go. Be in touch soon.”

She leaves you in the darkness of your room. From the corner of your eye, you spot a set of eyes watching you from the ajar door. You make out Yuna’s features before she closes the door, no doubt fleeing the scene. You aren’t sure how much she saw, but you hope that whatever she did see hadn’t scared her shitless.

Anyway, there are larger issues at hand.

*

It’s somewhere on the third or fourth night where it happens. For the record: you don’t go to her. She comes to you.

Weather forecast predicted hail, and for once they’re actually correct. It’s pissing it down – the glass on your room not left unscathed from the assault of hail falling from the sky. It’s awfully noisy, helluva hullabaloo. Hard to sleep in this weather really. You warned Yuna—who seems to have gotten a little more comfortable around you—about the horrid weather that you guys were about to be blessed with, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s fairing alright.

The knock on your door comes around a quarter after one. Yuna steps into your room, her silky nightdress kinda glowing in the low light as she sort of just stands there awkwardly. It’s quite like a child entering their parents room in the middle of the night to inform them that they’ve shat the bed. You look at her from under the covers for a bit, and when she continues to be a deer in headlights, you sit up in your bed. “You okay?”

“I’m um…” she begins, fiddling with her fingers as she speaks. “I-It’s noisy… And…”

You understand what she’s attempting to convey. You move to your right in bed, open the covers and pat on the space you’ve left for her. She smiles, grateful. When she settles into the space where Nayeon usually sleeps, you tell her to holler if she needs anything else. You leave her with that, and your back faces her when you—by the grace of some divine powers—drift off.

You wake up again in the early morning. The sleep wasn’t bad – kinda peaceful and dreamless and you want to close your eyes and drift back off. Unfortunately (actually kinda fortunately in this case), Yuna’s legs entangled with yours snaps you awake. You’re worried that you might have rolled into her while you were asleep (you really didn’t want to fuck up again), but her arm around your torso tells you otherwise. She’s cuddled up to you, head against your back and hugging you like you’re her personal soft toy – the usual kind of cuddling. Frankly, you’re at a loss for words. What happens in between is kind of a blur. You remember her stirring, and you remember turning around as slowly and gently as possible. What you don’t quite remember however, is how she ends up with a hand on your cheek. You vaguely remember her asking for some sort of permission, but your heart is beating so loudly in your ears that you can’t really hear or process much. She’s in the most vulnerable of positions right now, and the worst thing you could possibly do is fuck up. Your mishaps from the first day have you on edge.

And now you’re running through the events again in your head, doing your best to pick up on critical exposition that probably would explain the situation you're in. Words fail you as Yuna’s thumb traces a path across your cheek, sweeping back and forth languidly with the smallest of smiles on her face. Her eyes—those hypnotic doleful eyes—stare into yours, and you’re sniffing out some longing behind that gaze. 

“Nayeon put in a really good word for you,” she whispers, letting her gaze wander across your face. “She said that you were a trustworthy man… Someone who’ll take care of anyone because you can.”

You’re happy to hear of Nayeon’s positive appraisal of you, but it doesn’t stop your bad habit of cracking a joke in tense situations. “And what’s the customer’s review?”

You’re glad that she laughs. If she didn’t, you’d have to expand your list to include a 14th reason. 

“She told me to trust you and that I can feel safe around you,” she reports. She takes a moment to bring her eyes back to yours. Her smile grows wider. “I’m happy to say that I do… Largely.”

And all at once: a two tonne weight around your chest feels like it just dropped a twenty-story height. You aren’t sure if Yuna’s giggling because of the fact that you’re visibly relieved or because you heaved the loudest sigh of relief of your career.

“Man… I thought I’d completely fucked up after the first day,” you admit to her, relishing the feeling of your body relaxing in bed. “Never quite got to apologise for that.”

“And you don’t have to”—her smile is quite soothing to be honest, puts you right at ease after looking at it for a second or two— “I was just kinda shocked… And I kinda have a bad experience of being yelled at. Working on it though.”

Huh. Guess Nayeon was right about her.

“Still though,” you raise, rubbing your eyebrow. “I’m sorry.”

Yuna chortles. Her lips slant at an angle. “Forgiven and forgotten. Happy?”

You smile in response to the progress. “Hey. You go girl.”

She graces you with a wink. A moment of silence follows. 

“Did Nayeon ask you to be touchy with me?” you can’t help but inquire. It’s out of the blue, but hey: a burning question is a burning question. “I mean… It’s not everyday that a cute girl just pulls up in my bed and caresses my cheek.”

“She said that you’ll be fine”—she retracts the hand on your cheek. The two tonne weight starts rising to the 5th floor—“and are you flirting with me?”

(Two tonne weight falls. Phew… What a workout.)

“Maybe.” You don’t really like being blunt cause there’s always some merit in a bit of playing around. Now that you think back on it, you may or may not have picked this up from Nayeon. Damn girl is ruining you. “Take it how you want, just don’t think I’m being sarcastic.”

Yuna smirks a little. “Nayeon did say you like to play around with your words,” she lifts a finger and points away from the bed, “not sure if she influenced you,” she points towards you,  “or if you influenced her”.

“What if we’re both a little guilty?”

“Then I’ll be the outlier. Can I kiss you?”

And it feels like time stops. For the seconds that you stare at her in silence, one brain cell exerts maximum fucking effort to process the weight of her words. You wouldn’t have been as hesitant if she’d just kissed you directly, but now that she’s asking for consent first, you’re high-key at a loss for words. The sun’s starting to rise and the room’s being filled with this sorta radiant glow… Or maybe it’s just her.

“Woah,” you can’t help but muse. Of course, you’re exaggerating by quite a bit. “You are… Super blunt.”

“Figured you could use a change of pace.”

Then Yuna closes the distance between the two of you. She hesitates for a little, hovering over your lips for a bit before she finally decides to press her lips onto yours. It’s kinda sweet; her lips feel amazing and she’s really going down on you. You comb your hands through her hair, let the smell of sweet shampoo kinda intoxicate you a little while she tugs at your lower lip with her teeth. Unlike Nayeon, it feels like she’s kissing you because she wants to. The older girl sometimes makes it feel like she’s doing it for the sake of it, and then proceeds to tear through your clothes to get to your dick. Yuna takes her time, lets her hand on your face get familiar with the structure of your jaw as fingers graze them gently; introduces her index finger and thumb to your chin as she tips it to deepen the kiss a little.

“Hey,” she calls once the kiss is broken. She’s glowing in the light of the room, the smile on her face pretty fucking adorable. “Did Nayeon ever tell you that I look the best when I take it from the back?”

Again: super fucking blunt.

Clothes are never a hassle when you’re kinda in a rush, and Yuna’s night dress slips right off her body like the plate she dropped from the tray. You have her on her back, kinda half-mewing-half-keening as you catch a nipple in your mouth and suck on on it. The toned muscles on her stomach tense and relax, the rapid ebb and flow of pleasure in her system making her body move in all sorts of sensual ways as you palm her other breast.

And here’s the thing you like about Yuna: she lets you take her time with her, really revels in the sweetness of the moment while your trailing kisses down to her crotch. She moans for you – sweet music that tells you yeah that’s the spot while you acquaint and familiarise yourself with her body; she shifts herself accordingly – rolls to her side when you were kissing her plunging collarbones and opens her legs for you when you get to that pretty, pink pussy. It’s like she’s wired to please you, responding to your every move with a move of her own like you’re locked in a dance with her. It’s a welcome change of pace from having to fight and dirty talk your way to even get the chance to fuck Nayeon.

(In case you’re wondering: you do eat her out, but you kinda get lazy to really put into words. All you need to know are these few key points:

Firstly, she’s delicious, sweet and salty and kinda tangy. A bit of a subjective taste but you like it.

Secondly, her moans are really fucking adorable. They’re not even, like, purposefully made that way. She just kinda lets them flow from her mouth – choked-up cries of pleasure while warm thighs wrap around your ears. 

Lastly, when she cums, it’s fucking amazing. It’s like she brings heaven down to earth with her cries and makes sure you get to touch it as much as she can. Her body is fucking riveting – arches deliciously when she arrives and makes you twitch in your pants.

Bottom line: she’s really fucking hot, quite like Nayeon in the way she tries you on sometimes but patient and actually giving you the chance to talk dirty with her. Damn… She really is a change of pace.)

And so: reaching between your bodies with her on all fours, you grasp your cock in your right hand, slipping it between Yuna’s legs. The young woman spreads her thighs as best she can – readies herself for entry. Your head pushes between her lips, waiting for only a moment, before you thrust hard inside her, filling her to the hilt with your cock. She’s awfully tight, really fucking wet and God is it hot in there. You almost think molten iron seems to be brewing in her core.

“Tell me,” she huffs, a sly smile on her face as she props herself up on her elbows. “Am I better? Or is Nayeon still the best?”

You caress the swell of her ass. “Baby… I think you’ll be the best fuck I’ll have in a while.”

It’s almost cruel: the way you kinda just start thrusting without any warning. She likes it though, and you only know because she possesses the bluntness to do so.

“God you’re fucking big.” And her ass ripples with each thrust you deliver into that slick little pussy of her’s. “Fuck… How does Nayeon even manage you?”

(The thing you like about her is how she asks a question like it was some sort of objective statement – not a rhetorical question, just something for you to respond to.)

You fuck her harder in response to that, kinda push yourself all the way into her. The tip of your cock slams against her cervix and her cries ring throughout your room. Your room fills with the sort of visceral sound one would associate with skin slapping against skin. There are definitely some more words to be shared during sex – the girl has a little more things she wants to get off her chest, but what the whole exchange boils down to is a back and forth of her gasping and crying out and saying you’re the best dick she'll ever get and you telling her you love the feel of her little cunt.

(It's really not like you're trying to prove something by being super rough. Yuna just happens to really, really like the feel of a thick cock pounding into her. Maybe Nayeon was right – her taking it from the back was a good idea.

Or maybe she's just a slut.

Who knows?)

"Yeah," you growl. You reach forward and grab a handful of her hair, pull her body against yours. "Take my cock baby."

"I can take it," she gasps, the breath knocked out of her. Her fingers curl against the bedsheets and she's just taking your cock. She's a lot easier to please than Nayeon – less stubborn about being in control, but also much, much more willing to please. "Oh God, fuck me, please..."

You slam deep inside her. Her body jerks forward and the sound that comes from her mouth is a mix between a cry and a gasp. "Please what?"

"Fuck me harder," she says. She's practically begging for it. "Make me cum. Please, please make me cum!"

Taking up her request is all you really wanna do. She didn’t need to add the multiple pleads, but you took some pleasure in hearing it.

You grab ahold of her shoulders, pull her close till she's almost upright. "You're gonna cum around my dick," you growl. You start a series of rapid, hard thrusts and her body goes limp in your arms. "And you're gonna make a mess of yourself."

She nods frantically. She's a mess already, all sweaty and red. The sounds that leave her mouth are incoherent. With two fingers pressing hard and directly against her clit, you start circling on it, making her a complete fucking wreck in the middle of your room as you really try to get her off. There's a sweet spot you find after a moment – the pad of your digits slipping around the nub and her knees give, almost making her buckle until she's flat on her stomach on the bed, crying and shaking as you use her like a toy.

"Please... Fuck... Don't stop, oh God don't stop!" Her cries are like a prayer to you. You've never heard anything like it. You fuck her right through it, watching as her back arches and her legs twitch, until she's almost completely gone. There's only a little bit more left. She just needs a little extra push.

So you decide to go a little hard. You hold her by her hips, keep her legs shut, and thrust directly down onto her pussy with a force you'd only reserve for someone like Nayeon. Her eyes roll back in her head as you really take her like you've wanted to ever since you started; it's almost animalistic how you really try to get her to cum as hard as she can. You can almost feel her orgasm build up in her body. Her breathing grows shorter and more erratic and she's mewling in her throat – so close. You can taste it.

"You like my cock don't you?" You reach around, give her tits a squeeze. She almost cums from that.

"Yes," she whimpers. You know she's not playing the part – she genuinely wants your dick. "Please... Let me cum on your cock..."

(You don’t admit it verbally, but you like it when girls beg. Nayeon never does, and it’s a novelty now that she’s doing it.)

You hold her down with an arm on her lower back. Her head's to the side, hair plastered to her skin with sweat as you fuck her from behind. She's panting and whining, begging you for more; “please please more”. You like that. It's cute. You wanna hear it. So you go harder. She screams into the sheets, but the sounds are muffled, but she's pretty loud nonetheless. It's good to see her let go like this, really let loose and not hold anything back. There's a fire that she ignites inside you. "Fuck..."

It's like a little fire that ignites and grows bigger, burns brighter with each thrust. She's so tight and so fucking wet; the wet sounds that accompany each thrust really turns you on. Your body feels so hot. There's this warmth that spreads across your entire body with every passing second. She moans and cries, whimpering as you nail her into the sheets.

Then there's this moment of clarity that hits her, and she looks back at you – she smiles, eyes half-lidded and she whispers something to you.

"Cum inside me," she says. She's shaking. "Please..."

Your rhythm grows sloppy as you edge closer and closer to the climax. Your cock feels like it's growing harder, bigger – there's this throb in it and your body's all tensed up. It feels like something inside you is going to snap, break loose and make you cum. It's not the best feeling in the world, but the way it grows stronger and stronger really makes your toes curl and your skin tingle.

And she's so beautiful like this: spread out for you, skin sweaty, cheeks red, and ass in the air as you fuck her. It's the best way you can ever imagine her – she looks like she belongs to you like this, her body a playground for your lust, and she wants it just as much as you do. There's a mutual feeling between the two of you.

The pleasure comes and it hits you like a train. It feels like something inside your balls tighten and then snap and then there's this euphoria that envelopes you. You feel your cock pulse with every burst of semen that spurts from the head. Yuna cries as her pussy gets filled and filled, until it's running out and dripping from her cunt, but you can't stop fucking her. You want to feel that sweet, sweet release, to see how long it will go, to really enjoy this moment. She feels amazing, and your heart pounds and you want her so badly. You need her.

She cums — It's a hard, shuddering orgasm that wracks her body. She cums and she screams for you, and she makes a mess of herself as promised. It's really fucking hot – the way she completely loses her composure and her legs shudder violently as you pound her pussy through it all, soaking in the perverted pleasure she brings you while you fuck her freshly-creamed pussy till your hips kinda give. You collapse on her, panting and grunting on top of her while she struggles to breathe.

In this moment. She isn’t like Nayeon in the slightest.

She’s a welcome change of pace. 

*

“Thinking back… There were signs in highschool that I probably ignored.”

And the water sloshes around as Yuna shifts a little in the bathtub. She’s found it to her liking to prop herself up against you, let her head rest against your shoulder while you hold her close to your chest. You’ll admit that it’s a bit of an awkward arrangement, but there was no way you could just not indulge her after she asks to take a bath with you. 

“The worst part is that they weren’t even, like, subtle,” she tells you, just sort of staring out into the distance while she talked.  “He’d punch things when he got angry, even slapped a referee after he lost a game… Love is blind huh?”

You held her a little closer to your chest. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.”

“Yeah, well, my mistakes left me with no physical scars but the emotional ones are plenty.”

You hope she can’t see you grimace. It’s hard to recover from these types of things, especially if you realise the stupidity behind your decisions.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” you tell her, and you really mean it. “It must be difficult… You know: recovering.”

The front of her lips curve up. “Thanks. I try not to let it weigh me down too much but… Just kinda happens to come out every now and then.”

You get it, you really do. Not that you’ve been in an abusive relationship like hers before, but you understand what it’s like. It’s sad really: being unable to break out of a cycle that hurts you the more you try to stay and change it. You admire the young girl’s strength, envy her courage for finally breaking the cycle and freeing herself for good. 

“You’re safe now,” you whisper, moving some wet hair out of her face. “I will never hurt you. I promise.”

She smiles at that. “Thank you,” she says while pinching your cheek, “that means a lot to me.”

Then you bask in the silence for a little, taking in the smell of the bath salts and the feel of Yuna’s soft skin against yours. It’s a pretty romantic moment till Yuna’s bluntness breaks it.

“I’m, like, really wet,” she announces, gazing up at you from her position on your shoulder. You laugh. 

“Didn’t you just cum?”

“Good things come in threes.”

She fixes you with a look, like she knows that you’re gonna give in.

(And you know what? She’s absolutely right. Can’t say no to a pretty girl.)

*

“Well hello to you too.”

Nayeon sounds almost angry on the other side of the video call. On your end, you have your phone’s back camera pointed to the current situation: Yuna atop of you, thighs locked around your cock as her hips rock up and down steadily. Her thighs are warm, pillowy; makes you grit your teeth while she moves languidly.

“Nayeon!” Yuna exclaims, almost too saccharine as she keeps her eyes locked on yours. “We were just thinking of you.”

She isn’t lying. Just moments before her call came, you two were making a joke about how she’d never let you get away with as much as Yuna did. It was a pretty humorous conversation, almost comedic if it wasn’t for the fact that Yuna was tugging your sweats down your thighs. 

But, there she was, still moving in your lap. Yuna leans forward, hands planted on your chest as she continues to rock her hips, ass bouncing a little against your thighs.

You can hear a scoff from Nayeon.

Yuna turns her head to the screen, eyes looking at the phone but her hands still pushing on your chest, fingers flexing. "We really were," she whines, lips jutted into a pout. You watch her as her lips curl into a small smirk just a second later, her teeth peeking out, and you can feel your face grow warm when she looks back at you.

"Tell her what we were talking about," she orders, her voice soft but firm.

"Um...we were just, um—" you stutter out, and your throat goes dry as her hips keep going, her thigh muscles clenching around you.

"Go on."

"We were...just, uh, talking about how you're not here," you finally manage to get out.

"Aww, baby...” Nayeon is smiling. It’s sarcasm by the way; she's enjoying this as much as Yuna is.

Yuna's pout returns. "See, Nayeon?" She continues to roll her hips against you. "We were thinking of you,” she reiterates, making sure she has your eye contact while she fucks you with her heavenly thighs, “I know it's not fair that you aren't here, but he’s just so fucking hard… Someone had to do something about it.”

Nayeon gives a snort. “You two are lucky I’m not alone in my room right now.”

“And what would happen if you were?” Yuna challenges. You don’t recall her being this daring.

“Playing with myself, obviously,” the older girl replies. “You think I’d just watch you get him off with your thighs? I barely let that boy dominate me.”

Yuna chuckles and smiles your way.

“What a horrible situation,” she whispers, moving a little faster. “Luckily I’m here to pamper him.”

“And he’d better enjoy it while it lasts,” Nayeon smirks. “When I’m home he’s–”

Yuna cuts her off by hanging up. You stare wide-eyed in shock as she tosses the phone aside. “Too noisy. I can’t multitask,” she explains. “Call her back later. Let’s get back to it.”

With that, Yuna leans over you, her chest pressed to yours as she gives a slow grind in your lap, her hips moving in a figure eight. Your head rolls back, and you release a loud, drawn-out groan. Her thighs are so smooth against your cock, so warm, so soft. You wish you could bury your face in between them. The way her hips move is incredible; she knows what she wants, knows how to work you.

You try to sit up, but Yuna pushes you back down by your chest. Her lips curve into a smile, and she shakes her head.

"Stay down," she whispers, "you don't wanna ruin this, do you?"

"No."

"Then stay still. I'll make it quick."

Quick is an understatement. She's barely rocking her hips in your lap, but with how soft her thighs are, and the way they grip you like a vice, you know it'll probably be over sooner or later. You make a note to try and make this last for as long as you can. Yuna leans over you again, hands on your chest as she gives a rough buck of her hips. Your head snaps back and you let out a loud groan. She continues to grind against you, slowly, making sure to hit every sensitive part of your cock. You reach up to grab her hips, but she slaps your hands away.

"No touching," she tuts. "Let me do the work. You relax."

Your lips open to protest. She shushes you with a finger. 

"Own me later," she whispers, sliding the finger down to the point where your collar bones meet. "Let me take care of you now."

You gulp, nodding.

Yuna's hands settle back on your chest, nails dragging across your skin, making you shiver. She's looking at you with those doe eyes, those pretty pink lips curled into a smirk as her hips pick up pace. The friction is incredible; Yuna's thighs feel like silk wrapped around your cock, warm and soft; the way they're clamped around you has you seeing stars. Your breath hitches in your throat when Yuna moves faster.

(And another thing about her: she’s so fucking good at pleasuring you that she always makes you lose your ability to think.)

"Fuck..." You moan, throwing your head back. "Feels so good..."

She smiles at that, giving a small hum of approval. "Does it?" She asks. "Good."

You look up at her, watching her roll her hips. She's really putting in work, moving in all sorts of ways to make sure you're feeling the most pleasure. It's not lost on you; she's an angel, and you thank every god there is for having her. Your cock throbs between her thighs, aching. The head is flushed red and leaking precum, which smears all over Yuna's thighs as she keeps moving. Your toes curl in the sheets, fingers gripping the fabric as she rides you.

Yuna continues to roll her hips, giving a few rough bucks when she feels like it. You're groaning and moaning under her, letting out all kinds of sounds that make her chuckle. She's having fun teasing you, getting you close to orgasm only to slow down and watch your face contort with pleasure.

"Don't cum yet," she says softly, running her hands over your chest. "We just started."

"I-I know," you reply, breathless. "But I...fuck..."

Yuna giggles. "That good?"

"Yeah. Fuck… don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby."

You throw your head back, your hips twitching under hers. Yuna chuckles, keeping her thighs locked around you. Your cock aches, throbbing between them as she moves; precum drips onto her legs, which only makes the slide easier for her. You're starting to sweat; your body's temperature rises with each passing moment, the feeling of her thighs overwhelming you. Yuna's so warm against you, so soft and pliable; you can't help but imagine her underneath you, moaning and writhing as you fuck her. The thought has you bucking your hips up into her, causing her to gasp.

"Someone's eager," Yuna teases, running a hand through her hair. "What's going through your head?"

You groan in response, your hands sliding down her sides to grip her hips. "Nothing," you lie.

She snorts, knowing full well what's on your mind.

"Liar." She rocks her hips forward. "What are you thinking about?"

You gaze at her for a moment. "If I said you... Would you believe me?"

She rolls her eyes. "Wouldn't put it past you," she stops moving for a bit to give you the attention. "What are you doing to me in your head?"

"I never said–"

"Please," she interjects "We both know you want to bend me over the nearest fucking surface and fuck my brains out right now."

Her thighs start moving again. Your head falls back and a moan escapes you.

"Can you blame me?" You say. She smiles.

"No, not really. I am pretty hot anyway."

(There’s that little bit of Nayeon in her.)

You nod. "You're so fucking good to me." You manage to get out.

Yuna chuckles. "Wanna know something?"

"What?"

"I love the way you feel between my thighs," she tells you. "And I love how you sound when I'm making you feel good. I want to hear more of it."

With that, she leans forward, pressing her lips to yours. Her hips keep moving, rolling against you at an agonizing pace, causing you to moan against her mouth. She's quite literally giving you everything you want, injecting some mischief here and there that makes it feel like Nayeon possesses her sporadically. She's more gentle though, more kind and more caring too. Okay, not that Nayeon doesn't care, but she's kinda ruthless when she's horny. Yuna's much more caring, and a lot more willing to be a pillow princess. She likes being pampered. She likes being loved on and adored. She wants to be fucked and she wants to be taken care of. It's a mutual feeling between the two of you. You'll worship her, and she'll love you for it.

Yuna pulls away from the kiss, moving to your neck. She gives it a few open-mouthed kisses, nipping at your skin. You sigh, letting your head fall back. She continues to rock her hips against yours, grinding down onto your cock. Her hands slide up your chest, nails digging into your skin, eliciting a gasp from you. 

Yuna chuckles, kissing up your neck to your ear. "You're so big," she whispers. "So fucking thick... Feels so good."

You groan, fingers gripping her hips.

"You like that?" She asks. "Like me talking about your cock?"

You nod.

"I love it," and she talks with a purr. "Love how it feels inside me... How deep it goes... How hard it throbs..." She whispers—no. Moans all this right into your ear. "Fuck... I really want this thing inside me right now."

"Later," you quickly propose. "Please?"

She laughs — sweet and melodic. "Never said that I would put it inside of me," she reminds you. "Now, you zip up and make a mess for me, okay?"

You moan in response, nodding your head. You can't deny her, not when she's making you feel this good.

Yuna keeps moving against you, her thighs clenching around your cock. She moves slowly, her hips rolling at an agonizing pace. Your cock is aching; you can feel yourself getting closer to your climax with each passing second.  Your eyes are glued to her thighs, watching them move. She looks so good on top of you. Her hips are hypnotic; your mind spins as she fucks you.

Your eyes move up to her face. Her eyes are closed, lips parted slightly as she focuses on her movements. Her hands are still on your chest, fingers flexing. Her breathing is heavy, warm breath fanning over your skin. You take in her beauty, letting it consume you. She's so fucking perfect, so angelic. Hard to believe how much of a slut she can be.

"I'm close," you manage to get out. "Yuna..."

She smiles. "Go ahead, baby."

"Don't wanna make a mess." You say.

Yuna giggles, her hips picking up pace. "Too late for that."

That's what sends you over the edge. 

You cum; it’s fucking messy. 

Cum fills the space between your dick and her thighs, slathering and flowing and spurting onto everything it can possibly get on. It slicks the insides of her legs; gets on her ass a little and pools beneath her crotch. Yuna hums in satisfaction, a smile on her face as she turns behind her to survey the damage.

“Clean up on aisle four,” she mutters, reaching back to wipe some cum off her ass. She sends her fingers into her mouth – makes a big show of sucking them clean. You can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight.

“Hey,” you call her, your hands reaching down to grope her ass. “I’m planning to change the sheets tomorrow.”

She gives you a look. “Are you saying that cause you’re actually going to? Or because you just want to fuck me right now.”

Oh and she’s perceiving you almost too accurately. You won’t admit your answer, even to yourself. 

“I dunno,” you shrug. “Either way: we’ll have to change the sheets.”

Yuna matches your game.

“Call Nayeon back,” she instructs. “Let’s show her what she’s missing.”

*

Again: Nayeon just kinda chooses when and where to be a bit of a minx, and you just have to roll with it really.

The decision—for today—was made somewhere halfway through the drive to fetch Yuna. You were just talking about how Nayeon had picked that girl up, and her voice trails off as she passes the exit sign. She just keeps on driving while pretending to look like she’s in the right. The GPS doesn’t lie though: it keeps on promoting her to U-turn at every opportunity that’s available to her. She ignores it of course, kinda tunes it out even though the instructions are really getting annoying now (and not to mention it sounds like it’s demanding her to go back this instant, like a mum who just can’t get her kid to listen). It’s like how she ignores you lately.

“She’s probably gonna think we crashed or something,” you muse, lurching in your seat a little as she takes a left. “We’re like, what, fifteen minutes late or something?”

“Nah,” Nayeon quickly refutes. She stops to let a BMW swerve around the corner before she gently taps on the gas. “She’s probably still packing her things,” the turning signal clicks at a steady tempo, stops after she takes the 3rd exit on the roundabout, “maybe even settling a bit of her make up or whatever.”

This is the most she’s spoken since her return.

You hazard a glance at the GPS. The blue line leading you back to your intended destination only grows longer, sometimes glitching a little as the turn of Nayeon’s car gives it the illusion that you’re heading back when she’s really just turning into a one way street. You can’t tell if she knows where she’s going or if she’s just throwing out random bullshit.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she grumbles, casting a rather nasty glance your way. “I’m just taking a shortcut. That’s all.”

(Is it not painfully obvious where this is going?)

And a few minutes later, she’s got you gritting your teeth in the backseat of her car. No smug remarks from her — she has your balls in her mouth and she’s getting real sloppy in some alley she’s parked in. You don’t know where to begin, where to find solid reasoning for what you’re witnessing and feeling right now. It’s pretty fucking asinine (and she probably knows that it is) and damn straight goes against all branches of logic. In no world does she have a valid reason for being this horny at 11am on a Saturday.

(Actually, there’s one reason: she just feels like it.)

“You do know that we’re both astronomically fucked if anyone so much as glances our way.” You’re ashamed to admit that this actually has you hissing, partly out of annoyance and partly out of pleasure. “You’re fucking ridiculous. I hope you know that.”

Nayeon spits on your cock. Her hands close into a fist around your shaft, her eyes almost empty as she spreads her saliva in a close to even layer over you. “Are you quite done?” She asks. The emptiness in her voice is kinda scary. It makes her sound exasperated, like she’s sick of your reasonings. “You know, you talk an awful lot for someone who literally writhes when I quite fucking literally touch your cock. Don’t act tough on me. We both know who you are. We both know you’re my toy.”

Figuring out if this is part of the bit is the hardest part of your predicament. She plays too much as of late: with her eyes, her tone, her facial expressions… Sometimes it makes you wonder if she really keeps you around just to satisfy her cock cravings or if she really wants you around. Ever since she’s gotten back, it feels like she’s been fucking you and Yuna with nothing but pure hate. You feel it in her eyes, in the violent buck of her hips when she rides you or even in the way she spanks Yuna with a little too much glee. It confounds you; admittedly: you’re petrified of the possibility that she’s straight up jealous of how your relationship with Yuna’s been going since she roped her into this mess.

You can’t help it. You need to know.

You grab her by the wrist, a little harder than you’d like but it’ll have to do. “Stop,” and you don’t mean to be assertive, but it’s all you can summon now. “I need you to answer me honestly.”

In the passenger-side seat, Nayeon fixes her gaze on yours. She tries to struggle from your grasp; you keep a firm grip.

“What are we?” you ask, straightforward; direct. You’ve been with Yuna enough times to know that this’ll elicit an honest response from her. “Cause it just feels like I’m just your piece of meat to fuck and own. We don’t talk, you don’t even look at me when we go to sleep… What are we Nayeon?”

And it makes her freeze. Your sincerity is scary to her — ropes her into your thoughts more than you usually do. She’s silent, face blanker than paper. Her fingers on the hand that you’ve got in your grasp curl a little. “We’re just fuck buddies… That’s all.”

You just stare at her for a second, soak in the weight of that statement. “Then why does it feel like you’re jealous of Yuna?”

“I’m not. What are you even…” You can tell she’s surprised — her eyes do that thing where they widen, and then she blinks. Your question is loaded to her: it catches her in a place where she’s made privy to the fact that her emotions are more out there and perceptible than she’d like.

You raise an eyebrow. “Come on… We both know that’s not true.”

Her plump lips purse. She looks away for a moment.

“And what would you do if I said I was jealous?” she raises. “Kick her out? Stop fucking her?”

She raises a valid argument. Frankly, you didn’t bring this up with the end goal of sorting this out. You just wanted the older girl to accept her emotions, maybe acknowledge that it’s a little petty and then kinda just move on. Of course, nothing with Nayeon is ever really that simple.

“You’re the one that brought her into this,” you remind her, partly because you feel like she isn’t acknowledging her fault in this situation and partly because you have nothing else to say.

She rips her hand away. “So it’s my fault then?”

“What?” you sit up a little in your seat. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Her eyes sear your soul with her frustration. This hurts her more than you think. “I’m saying we’re both a little guilty here,” you clarify. “We both have a part to play in how you feel, so maybe we should just talk this out.”

She goes quiet. Too quiet considering the circumstance.

“Later.” She decides. “I think better with a load inside of me.”

*

So to reiterate: they're similar but kinda different. 

“Jesus… Did you really have to get it on my dress?” Nayeon’s clearly pissed. The wet wipe in her hand rubs at the stain of her dress furiously, as if the aggressive motion will kinda just get it out magically. Yuna retires into your arms, her sweat-matted hair sticking to your chest a little. The syntax behind how you got to this point is more complicated that you’d care to elaborate on, but let’s just say: Nayeon was happier a second ago…

(Okay but to be fair: her dress was in the way when you pulled out. So it’s like, half your fault, but you like to play the victim.)

“Relax,” Yuna assures her senior. “It’ll wash right off.”

Nayeon clicks her tongue in annoyance. “You stop defending him. He knows what he’s done.”

Yuna giggles. She smiles up at you. “Yeah… He does.”

They don’t know it, but they’ve got a pretty good dynamic going: Mother-daughter; Spicy and Sweet; Sour Cream and Onion. They contrast, diverge; but they compliment each other almost perfectly. 

(It’s no family reunion; but it’s dinner and diatribes from here on out.)

—

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Hope you will be full of joy and fulfill your dreams next year!

Anyway! This is lokwey the start of a series where I just kinda explore more filthy and complicated things, stuff that’s just not quite right but somehow works. I won’t be following the same idols and people, so this isn’t exactly an interlinked series. Hard to explain but you guys can just come to your own conclusions really.

~Nichu

[nichuuu]

From Eden

Jeon Heejin x M reader

(1st instalment of De Selby)

PSA: This shit has not seen the editing board because I'm lazy. Fell off real hard. Sorry gang.

Word count: 10k

You liked to think that your first meeting with her after all those years was a fluke. 

As it went for most people who went their separate ways at a point in their lives: there was history between you and Jeon Heejin. It was a little more choppy than you’d like to admit, but it formed the crux of your relationship and you couldn’t just ignore it. She seemed to find no qualms in forgetting what happened between the two of you. And as you caught up with her at a booth seat in some club you guys bumped into each other at, you wondered if you’d overreacted when the two of you had your falling out.

She was possibly kinda bad company for the night – not exactly a face you wanted to see three beers in and ditched by the rest of your friends cause they all got too drunk and found themselves booted from this hellhole. But at the end of the day, they all say that it’s better to be in poor company than to be alone. 

***

To whatever gods that were out there, you thanked all of them collectively for the fact that the toilet that she’d dragged you into was empty. You hoped that the cubicle door was enough to keep whatever was happening in the bathroom privy to its occupants. The music that pulsed on outside the bathroom should be enough to cover you right? 

Heejin—as usual—had no qualms about skipping past the usual formalities of intimacy. Those deft hands were on your belt faster than you could utter her name, and your cock was in her hand before you even knew it. She was gentle with you, stroking you considerately as she laid a hand on your chest. Those fingers made you tingle from the tip down, pushing you to new levels of pleasure you’d no idea you could experience. They gripped you lightly yet firmly, applying pressure at all the right spots to make your toes curl in your shoes and your muscles tense throughout your body. You could only wonder: did she know what she was doing to you? Or was she just getting really lucky. However sordid this situation was, it felt right to you… and maybe to her as well.

“Jesus Heejin”--your hissing through your teeth. It sounds a little more aggressive than you’d like, but you know she’d have no qualms about it anyway–“you sure know your way around a dick.”

The smirk on her face was snitching on the fact that she definitely knew what she was doing. She leaned in, flushing herself against your chest while she continued to deliver languid strokes to the rock hard meat in her hand. “Thanks… He loves a nice handjob from time to time, though I always imagine myself giving it to you instead of him to get into it..”

You summoned the strength to look into her eyes – really gaze deep into those lustful, beautiful orbs she’d been blessed with. Past the want and need, there was an undeniable look of sincerity she held, a wordless soulful confession to you that she had always fantasised you in place of her ‘lover’. It drove you to push a little further, “and what are you thinking about now that I’m actually the one you’re giving it to?”

Heejin thought about it for a moment, almost as if she had a million and one answers that could express her carnal desires. Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past her to actually harbour a million and one answers. She was always a wild thinker in many aspects. She was also diligent, and that translated into the way her hand hadn’t stopped moving throughout the eternity (it was shorter than that, but it sure felt like it) she took to produce a congenial answer. 

“Now that you’re actually here,” she finally answered, making sure to hit you with a smile that blurred the distinct line between sweet and sultry, “I’m thinking about how good you’re gonna fill me with this pretty, thick cock.”

“Pretty?” you couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d heard and read of many ways that people described dicks, but never in your life would you ever expect the word ‘pretty’ to be amongst that mix. Heejin giggled – one of mischief and ‘know-it-all’ energy. It’s pretty – her grip around you tightened, squeezing you with pleasurable force as her movements quickened almost in sync with your breathing – because I like the way it feels in my hand… and I know that this cock is gonna be better than anything that he’ll ever give me. 

She stopped, putting a jarring halt to the pleasure that surged through your system. Her hand on your chest snaked up to your cheek – a sweet action that almost took the pure filth out of the words that followed. “I want you to fuck me–no, own me.”

It felt almost like a command in the way that you immediately wanted to fulfill her request. Her thumb traces circles on your face; her speech only gets filthier, “fuck me like I’m yours. Make me cum so hard that I forget all about him.”

You found yourself back in control of the part of your brain that controls the facilities of your speech and movement. You gingery held the wrist that was delivering those soft strokes of heaven just moments ago and pulled her hand off your throbbing shaft. As much as you’d love to have her jerk you off, there were more pressing matters at hand – namely the situation of her clothing and the fact that it was still on her. You wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close.

“Heejin darling,” you whispered, relishing the way she shivered as your warm breath made contact with her ear. “I can’t do much if you still have all of these damned clothes on.”

She quickly recognised the game that you were playing and was eager to match you step-for-step. She held your gaze as she hooked a finger into the top of the tube top that adorned that wonderful figure and—rather enthusiastically—pulled it down. The nipple covers were quickly discarded and her small, perky breasts caught your gaze. Judging from her smile, she loved that you were staring. 

“You’re nice”, she told you, moving some hair out her face like you were looking there of all places. “He’s always commanding me: take off your clothes, do this, do that… I could get very used to you.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. Her constant comparison of you and the man she was supposed to be loving was making you feel a little better about yourself (even though you knew that was far from the intended effect). You’d like to return the favour; you began running kisses down her body – starting from her lips before making your way down to her collarbone. Her shuddering sighs told you that you were doing something right, and you endeavored to keep up your performance for the rest of… Well… Whatever this session was.

“God… you’re fucking perfect, you know?” you informed her, wondering if she ever knew how much you adored that body of hers. Yes, you were more wholesome at a younger age – looking at her soft features and dorky personality to decide that you liked her. However, innocence never stopped you from stealing a glance or two at her ass when she wore tight jeans or a quick look at her slim figure whenever she wore anything that hugged her body like a glove. You’d never know if she ever caught you looking, but now you’re glad she knows that you are giving her your fullest attention (it was hard not to really).

You weren’t sure if her cheeks were flushing because of your comment or if she was just getting turned on. Either way, she still had remarks to deliver, “perfect is a little strong, but I’ll take the comment because I’m just so humble.”

Mischief was and would always be her idiosyncrasy.

A creak made both of you freeze. Female voices filled the bathroom, accompanied by the sound of heels clacking against the floor as your little getaway location was patronised by unwelcome guests. 

“Ugh… This damned contact lens is not coming out,” an identified voice carped. It sounded like the woman who said it was just in front of the stall that you were in. Judging from the slight look of annoyance that crossed Heejin’s face, you deduced that those were fellow bridesmaids who were in there together with you. With the same expression lingering on her soft features, she reached down and unclasped her jeans. She unzipped them slightly before pulling them down – past the delightful curve of her waist and till they were halfway down her supple thighs.

“Do you need help?” another voice rings out. Heels striked against the floor as another female occupant moved to join the scene; Heejin moved to grab you by the cock and pull you closer (as if the two of you weren’t already skin to skin in that stall).

“Fuck me now,” she hissed, an almost angry look filling her eyes. It was like she was being fuelled by the annoyance that stemmed from the presence of her fellow bridesmaids – using it as an excuse to quickly get filled with cock and have it pumping in and out of her within the next few seconds or so. She was lucky that you were taught to never keep a girl waiting.

Your movements are quick and firm; grabbing her by the waist and turning her around. Her gasp was telling of her surprise towards your sudden movements, but the grin that followed when she turned halfway around to you to watch as you pulled down her underwear told you that she liked how things were moving. Never in your life would you have imagined this: you and Jeon Heejin – each of you half naked in your own respects in a bathroom stall while people chatted freely beyond the wall of the stall. If the teenage version of yourself ever found out about this, you didn’t know how he’d respond.

Your right hand snaked down towards her crotch, and you are pleasantly surprised to find the slick wetness that could very well be running down the inside of her thigh. You could always check, but you liked to imagine. You took your shaft in your right hand. She bent slightly at the waist, her hands pressed against the white wall of the stall. The rest of her tight frame joined her hands soon after you parted the wet lips of her cunt and hilted yourself inside of her. 

Her insides felt like a warm embrace – better than you could’ve ever imagined it to be. It felt like a perfect fit; the throbbing meat within her walls filled her perfectly and felt every small movement the flesh could ever register. To call it heavenly would be downplaying the sheer pleasure she was bringing just by letting you be inside of her. Jeon Heejin felt like something unreal, unfathomable. You doubted that your hastily crafted description of her sweet wet cunt could allow one to process this taste of heaven.

Heejin let out a sharp gasp – loud enough for only the two of you to hear and loud enough for you to know that she too was unprepared for this new experience. From the way the muscles on her back tensed as her walls tightened around you, it felt as if her body was welcoming you. It was almost like she was subconsciously pulling you closer, deeper. You could get very used to this.

You revel in it a little, take in the feelings, the new sensation; the sound of the intentional soft breaths that the two of you were taking. This was certainly a novelty for you, and if you were being very honest with yourself: the events that led up to this moment felt a little too much like a fever dream. You half expected yourself to wake up in the next few seconds, or maybe—

“What are you waiting for?”–of course. It had to be her to really cement the fact that this whole thing was actually real. Sure, it’s inconceivable; but no imaginative power of yours could ever replicate the sarcasm (splashed with hunger) behind her voice, nor could you visualise the smouldering look in her eyes as she bit her lip–“your dick is in me. Do something with it.”

It felt like a challenge. She knew damn well that you always took up her challenges.

Withdrawing yourself from the warmth of her slick, you took a moment to cast your gaze downward. You appreciate the sight of your shaft glistening in her juices for a moment—and only a moment. There were pressing matters at hand—before thrusting back into her and reacquainting yourself with the warmth of her walls. You’d have loved to get into this slowly; unfortunately, Heejin chose the worst possible place to get it on. You’d have to live with her choices (and this isn’t exactly new for you).

And as a third voice joins the fray outside your stall—I think I have some eye drops here. Maybe that could help?—you began pumping yourself in and out of her, slow and controlled with full strokes that filled her to the brim. The voices continued to fill the bathroom as the three anonymous patrons struggled with one of their lenses; you struggled to keep yourself together inside of Heejin’s hot wet cunt. 

“F-Fuck yes,” she hissed. Don’t worry, it was soft. Or you could just be too absorbed by the delightful sound of wet squelching as your shaft appears and disappears between her legs to notice that she may be a tad loud. Even if it was, the trouble outside was enough to keep the other three  “I can’t believe I’m finally getting this dick. God… You’re so… Oh my god.”

It humoured you to see her in this state, though laughing at her would be the pot calling the kettle black; you yourself were trying to hold on to something tangible—that wasn’t her waist cause hot damn was your grip on it doing a number on you. Counterintuitive, but hot nonetheless—to keep you grounded in your senses. Slip up and you’d be dealing with the risk of being found in a girl’s bathroom. 

“Jesus Heejin”–you were trying your best to throw in some dirty talk. It would help to spice things up if it weren’t for the fact that your own words were failing you. Your mind was almost completely consumed by the warm squeeze of her pussy, the small twitches of her walls as you drilled yourself into her tight frame like you were slowly nailing a painting onto the wall of the cramped stall. Actually, you were nailing a painting to the wall of the stall: the way her body moved and responded to your thrusts could easily be considered fine art in your books; her body could be considered a canvas given its pale complexion and its smooth surface. Heejin was an art piece herself – a complicated mix of emotions that could take the place of colour and a mind so complex that no composition could ever capture its essence. Good god… You were hooked on this girl–”you have no idea how fucking good you feel around my cock.”

To be clear: from the moment you started fucking her, she hadn’t turned back to face the wall. This whole time she’d been facing you – eyes smoking under the fire of passion and her mouth slightly parted as if her soft moans and sighs were keeping them permanently open. Simply put – she was hot. If you were to discard the complications behind the sex, one could easily classify this as plain, passionate and simple fucking (in a highly risky scenario that could jeopardize both of your reputations, mainly Heejin’s) between two people who have longed for each other. But the plainness of that sounded unappealing to you; the enthralling fact about this was the complexity of the situation – the thrill behind the immorality of it and the sheer risk behind satisfying your own desires. As she gasped when your hands found purchase in her soft breasts, you wondered if she had the same thoughts running through your head as you (though from the looks of it, she was purely enjoying the sex and probably leaving her thoughts behind. Words fail in times like these – you’d be one to know).

Her voice is unsteady as she hissed through her teeth—harder. Fucking give it to me like I’m yours—to perversely request for more than what you were giving her. To see her this uncouth enthralled you to no end. With one hand on her left tit, you moved to secure her hair in a bunch in your other hand. Her hair was a little far from silky—no doubt from all the dye that it’d seen—but it provided friction for you to grip onto her strands with ease as you decreased the intervals between your thrusts. The sound of wet squelching began to permeate the stall, and it was starting to be accompanied by the soft sounds of skin slapping against skin as you struggled to control your desires to rail the girl before you. Thankfully, the cries of victory from the women outside masked the unsavoury sounds.

“Thank god!” one of them, presumably the one who had their contact lens stuck. You’d affectionately refer to them as ‘Eyes’. “I thought it’d be in there forever. Thanks guys.”

“No worries”, another chimed. It was the second voice you heard when all of them entered. She’d be ‘Two’. “Normally you could take this to Heejin. She’d get you fixed up in a flash.”

“Really?” the third asked. You’ll call her ‘Three’. “Do idols get their contacts stuck a lot?”

“Probably,” Eyes mused, “all that dancing on stage probably isn’t suited for glasses, and who knows what type of contacts their stylists have them on.”

Heejin catched your gaze. Struggling to control her breathing, she managed to confirm Eye’s statement—she’s… kinda right. Oh fuck…—before you pulled back firmly on her hair to shut her mouth. Don’t be mistaken: you loved her personality and all, but now really wasn’t the time for it to shine. For good measure, you sealed her lips with a kiss – sloppy and clumsy and hurried. You squeezed her breast a little harder. 

“Where is she anyway?” Three asked. “I haven’t seen her since she left to go talk to that friend of hers…”

A tongue click of disapproval could be heard. You could imagine that it was followed by a tongue wave of dismissal from the way Two commented, “leave her be. She rarely gets to get out of her schedule. Probably trying to catch up with some old friends or something…”

There was a hum of agreement; Heejin moaned straight into your mouth as you captured her nipple between your fingers and squeezed. If the women outside knew how Heejin was ‘catching up’ with you, you didn’t know how they’d react to the sight of her being fucked raw in a bathroom stall meters away from them. You didn’t know how she was getting away with this, but you weren’t exactly complaining. If it wasn’t for understanding bridesmaids, you wouldn't be able to make a wet mess out of her. Maybe you’d thank them later, but you’d decide on that after you were done with Heejin.

“Was that the guy she was talking about the other day?” Two inquired. You had no idea what she looked like, and it scared you a little that she’d seen your face.

There was a moment of pause before Eyes quipped, “what guy?”

Silence followed Eyes’ question. For a second, you were worried that they’d all picked up on the lewd sounds of you fucking the very girl that they were speaking of. You held your breath, but you didn’t stop pumping your shaft between Heejin’s legs. She was almost like a lifeline – a slick and wet and oh-so-hot one that was keeping grounded in your senses while hooking to the sensation of the slick thrusts inside her pussy. Miracle drug… Or maybe just a drug – either way: Heejin was everything to you right now. Listening in on their conversation was just so that you wouldn’t be found during your few minutes in heaven.

“Nevermind. I think I wasn’t supposed to talk about that,” Two muttered. “Let’s get out of here before someone spikes our drink or something.”

They began discussing more mundane things, and you couldn’t care less about them because all that really mattered was the fact that their voices were fading away. You waited till you heard the sound of the creaky door closing to relinquish Heejin’s lips from your possession. She let out a gasp of air, followed by a desperate cry – loud and pleading now that she had the freedom to speak.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” she hissed. It was almost a snarl really. “Cum with me. Please.”

She was lucky that you: a) had a really big soft spot for her and; b) knew better than to turn a nice girl down.

With a grunt, the hand on her breast shoots to her throat, gripping it tightly as you frantically fuck Heejin to catch up with her imminent orgasm. She was into it, reciprocating by accompanying your hand on her throat and squeezing even tighter. She lets strained cries tumble from her mouth—Oh yes baby… I’m yours. Oh fuck… Oh my fucking god… You’re gonna make me cum so hard—her wells squeezing tighter and tighter around you. Husky was her voice as she pleaded with you to take your liberties—Fucking cum anywhere you like. I just want to be yours—with her, and she was practically shaking in your grasp as you drove yourself closer and closer to the point of no return inside her wet tight walls. Everything – your heart and soul and whatever – pointed you towards making a huge mess out of the women in your arms, and you endeavoured to achieve that goal one way or another.

The tingling at the base of your cock was steadily growing up your shaft. Your thoughts blurred together, nullifying and cancelling each other out till all you could think of was her. With every pump into her, you told yourself that she was yours to take. With every sigh that left her lips, you thought about how many times she pictured this moment in her head. With each gasp and sigh and moan and cry, you fought the urge to hiss through your teeth—Heejin, I love you so much—and admit your feelings for her and how much you’ve missed her touch; tell her how no one made you feel like she could; let her know that for all these years, you’d longed to reconnect with her and sort things out once and for all. Sweet thoughts; perverse desires. The latter wins – all that comes out of your mouth is, “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

And it happened. A little quicker than you’d have liked but there was no way to control the course that the lust of man would take you down. Your cock pops out of Heejin’s heat, glistening with her slick wetness as you pump yourself to completion with your free hand. The hand on Heejin’s throat was pulled down to her crotch, and she used your fingers to rub the swollen nub of her clit as the first ropes of semen shot out and landed on her lower back. She came as the second rope landed on the swell of her left ass cheek, and her knees buckled as the third and fourth spurts hit the fabric of her tube top and the right side of her lower back respectively. You lost track of the rest of your load as Heejin leaned against you, quaking as her orgasm struck her in waves and your load continued to streak her back. It all was so fast. You wondered how either you managed to process your actions in the moment. 

She panted against you, sweaty and spent as she closed her eyes and caught her breath. Your dick stayed flushed against the small of her back, slick with a mix of fluids from you and her. Your hand at her crotch slowly rubs circles into her clit, easing her off her peak and giving you something else to focus on other than how beautiful she looked. You feared that if you stared too long, you’d say something that you didn’t want her to know. The last thing you wanted was to have that moment of intimacy—facilitated by the afterglow of really good sex—to be ruined by some stupid feelings.

“Hey,” she whispered – all soft and tender as she opened her eyes to stare up at you. “That was fucking incredible.”

You managed a chuckle, restraining the urge to kiss her where she stood. She smiled, reached up to cup your cheek as you stared deep into her eyes. For a moment, the world went silent for you and her.

Then she pulled you down to her, kissed you where she stood. The position was a little awkward, your noses bumping each other at odd spots on your faces as she let the sweet nectar that was her lips grace your mouth in a soft and sweet kiss. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced, different from the kiss you’d given her in the midst of fucking her. It felt so right, so tender.

She released your lips with a soft smack, positively glowing as she gazed into your eyes for a little bit longer. 

“Keep this between us,” she whispered, “I love you. I always have.”

***

You stared blankly at her. It was all you could do really.

“What part of this can’t you understand?” she asked. The anger behind her voice was potent, palpable. “I have a boyfriend. Stay away.”

In your hand, the note that you’d plan to hand her felt a little lighter than it had when you first approached. Wishful thinking had you delusional; there was no chance that she would ever go to that dance with you. 

You thought that maybe the friendship could coax her into it – that maybe the years of what almost felt like kinship would drive her to just hear you out for a little bit; yet you seemed to forget that love is blind and can cloud your judgement.

In a moment, it felt like everything you’d built with her had turned to ashes.

***

“Indulge me Heejin. Bring me through your thought process.”

On the bed of your apartment, Heejin tosses her phone aside. Languidly, she flips onto her side, propping her head up with her hand as her elbow dents the pillow. 

“I know,” she mutters, a little bit shamefully if you might add. “Dating another guy to make you jealous and confess is a classic fanfiction folly and all… But I was desperate.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You know that we could’ve just… talked, right?”

Her lips form a line. She sighs and lets her head flop back onto the pillow with a bit of a thump. To be very clear: you aren’t asking her all these questions to guilt trip her into an apology. You are genuinely curious to understand how she was thinking at the period in your lives. It’s a good point of reflection for the both of you considering you both screwed up in one way or another, and maybe even a good chance to offload some emotional baggage. You’ll admit – finding out that she’d dated the guy she was currently with just to get you to run to her and confess your love in highschool was a bit of a shocking discovery. It was foolish, yes… But you wondered why Heejin of all women would resort to such methods. She could be awfully blunt when she wanted to be, and somehow even more blunt when she was telling you that you looked like shit in skinny jeans. You never knew as one to shy away from a confrontation when necessary, and even though she could be a bit of a big dork, she was emotionally aware enough to understand that communication would easily have settled your feelings for each other.

Heejin rolls in the bed, moving close to you so that she can throw an arm around you as she asks, “you’re not mad right?”

“No. Just curious,” you tell her truthfully. She’s silent for a moment, then she looks you in the eyes and opens up: I always meant to talk to you about it. When I heard from Haesul that you liked me I… I was just ecstatic. You were everything I wanted in a man, and I really just wanted to make you mine. Believe me when I say that I wanted to just run to you after the school bell rang and tell you that I loved you too… and maybe ask you out on a date the next weekend.

Her thumb traces circles on your back. You can tell that she’s being sincere from the way she never shies from your gaze. She continues, “but as I’m running to your class down the hall… This guy comes up to me and just tells me that he’s been crushing on me for years and wants to date me. I want to tell him ‘no’ on the spot. I really did. But I see an opportunity to… I dunno… Spice things up a little.”

And you can guess the rest of the story, but you just want to hear her say it just to be sure. Sure enough, she tells you the exact line that you predicted out of her—one thing led to another and then… well, here we are—and you can’t help but chuckle. The whole thing is pretty damn foolish to be honest, and you recognise the fact that if you’d just acted a little less rashly, maybe you wouldn’t have had to go down the path that you did. It’s a folly of the past but it does bring some shame to your present.

“I’m sorry”—she surprises you with this one. You assumed that you guys are past the stage of reconciliation at this point. I mean… You did fuck in a bathroom before she texted you after the wedding she was attending, so it would be kinda right to just conclude that you guys pre-fired the make-up sex—“I was rash and stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising again?” you ask her, “I thought we were through with the sob ‘sorry’s and what-nots.”

“Just for good measure,” she whispers, a gleam in her eyes as she shifts around in your bed a little. “You can never be too careful when it comes to these types of things. Don’t want to make you an enemy again, do I?”

“That wouldn’t be too bad,” you reason, albeit playful rather than serious. She recognises that and scoffs as you continue, “they say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“So what I’m hearing is: you’d stay for the hate sex,” she fires back. You smile.

“Not quite… But somewhat.”

Heejin sighs and slaps your leg. You secretly like pissing her off a little, but she didn’t need to know. 

“Now mister,” she says, hijacking the course of the conversation. “Indulge me and bring me through your thought process, and this isn’t about highschool by the way.”

She presses herself up against you, and you feel her hand slide down your torso and to your crotch.

“Tell me,” she whispers, a bit of smoky sultriness sneaking its way into her voice. “Why are you so fucking hard?”

It’s here that you realise that you’ve kinda walked into a trap. Not that what’s about to proceed is bad or anything, but it’s just that you’re a little disappointed that you hadn’t spotted this a little earlier. There were signs that you ignored when you saw her in your bed – namely the fact that she was wearing a see-through sleeveless dress that had a plunging neckline. If that wasn’t enough, she was blatantly playing with herself when you walked in, staring at her phone with this blanked out expression while her fingers worked between her thighs. If it weren’t for your questions about her relationship decisions, the two of you would probably have been naked and sweating in your bed right now. 

“Can I guy not be excited by a pretty girl?” you’re not trying to play innocent, but you are seeing how far it can get you in this situation just for fun.

“Not this guy.” Heejin’s fingers snake around your cock, gripping it lightly through your pants. “And definitely not when it comes to this girl.”

You chuckle softly and catch her hand at your crotch. You pull it away and lean in to whisper into her ear, “don’t worry Heejin. I’m not ignoring the fact that you’re wearing the easiest thing for me to fuck you in.”

Her eyes brighten. “So you did notice…”

And the kiss that follows is far from tame really. You’re at fault for this one since you initiated it, but that knowledge doesn’t stop you from keeping your hands to yourself as you reach down and locate her pussy. Okay wait, you’re making it sound like it took you some effort to find it when you really only took about a second; it’s really easy considering that the panties she’s wearing were so sheer and thin that you could hardly consider it underwear. It was probably more like a concept of clothing than an actual, tangible thing. And her dress? The hem was a lot shorter than it looked. She probably hiked it up or something.

You’re unsurprised by the slick wetness of her cunt practically dripping out of her at this juncture. She’s probably been holding it in for a while now – suppressing all that lust and hunger to talk about feelings for some 30 minutes before she finally gets the chance to let loose on you. Hats off to her really: she had more control than you’d credit her for.

“Fuck baby,” you whisper, latheing your fingers in her juices by dipping them in between her undoubtedly flushed lips. “So wet for me already.”

“Wetter than I’ll ever be for him,” she sighs, almost breathlessly as she shuts her eyes to enjoy the sensation of your fingers getting familiar with her warm cunt. “You should—mmph… you should be grateful that I’m actually attracted to you.”

“I feel honoured.” you’re being genuine with her, but right now it comes off more as a sarcastic passing comment that leans towards the more tame side of dirty talk. Either way, anything you say would probably end with her putting your dick into one—or maybe all—of her holes and using it to her liking. Not that you’re complaining or anything, but it’s just the way the cookie crumbles. There’s no stopping Heejin’s desire, and there really isn’t a point to trying to stop it. You’d be missing out on, like, a lot. “Though, no pressure, I’d be more honoured if you actually did something about that attraction.”

She smiles, borderline sadistic and a bit more enthusiastic than you’re used to. Her hands are deft as she quickly undoes the knot that keeps your sweatpants around your waist, pulls it off eagerly and makes quick work of your boxers. Your cock springs free, hard and throbbing as she slides out of bed to discard her dress. In record time, she’s between your legs and stroking your shaft with patient strokes of her hand. The cheeky comments that you had beforehand quickly sank back down your chest – replaced by an earthy groan that only Heejin was capable of drawing out of you. 

“You know… I was doing a bit of thinking,” she tells you.

“You do a lot of that.”

Heejin has no comments, only a cheeky little grin as she breathes warm air onto the tip of your cock. It makes you shudder, surging pleasure through your veins down to your bones. She’s oddly good at making you squirm, and you’re not too sure how to feel about that.

“Anyway,” she continues, unfazed by what she’d just done to you. “Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was about to suggest that maybe I could cross out one of my fantasies today.”

You’re no stranger to her wild thoughts that could probably fight that of Sabrina Carpenter. As you’d recently found out: fucking in a bathroom stall was one of many wild fantasies that she’d been wanting to cross out. Now that she had you, she’d been busy crossing more and more of them out. The whole infidelity thing was already a major part of her list considering the fact that she’s doing it with you instead of her ‘official’ partner, and things only get wilder from there. Sex with her can sometimes be like exposure therapy, not that you’ve done it before or anything. 

“And which one are we ruling out today?” you inquire, watching with great interest as she produces her phone from below the mattress and swipes through it eagerly. You never saw her grab the damn thing, but you figured that you were probably too preoccupied with the sight of her undressing to take notice. By the way: the entire time that the two of you had been talking? Yeah, she’s been stroking you through all of that. One can only imagine how you were feeling at the moment.

When you saw her phone, you thought that she was going to open her notes app and start looking through her kinks or something. Nothing prepares you for the sound of a dial tone, and you can only watch as she lays the phone next to your thigh, just out of your reach. 

“No prizes for guessing who I’m calling,” she grins, almost too innocently for your taste. “Try not to make too much noise okay?”

And before anything can be said, she slacks her jaw and draws you into the warm wet depths of her mouth. 

The dial tone only continues as Heejin goes still – adjusting to your size and length and taste and shape and whatever she needs to configure herself to. Frankly: if she’d just started sucking you off with that tight seal around your cock, you would’ve been in perdition in mere seconds after she starts. So you give a small thanks to whoever’s watching over you from up above, and you pray that the person on the other end of the line doesn't pick up. While you utter that silent prayer, Heejin’s tongue introduces itself to your tip, sliding almost gracefully over the head of your cock as her phone rings for the nth time. Another ring; her tongue flattens itself against the base of your dick and melts itself to the surface. You grit your teeth, fearful that the moment you make a sound, the other party would pick up and hear it. She slides up in a fluid motion, almost perfectly seamless if she hadn’t gone too far up too fast. Your cock ends up hitting her in the chin, and she smiles as if it were some cute thing that she was taking care of. 

“Heejin,” you grunt, keeping an eye on the phone screen in fear for both of your lives. “Let’s not—”

The caller chooses that moment to pick up, and this is where the game starts. Your lips shut so fast it feels almost automatic, and Heejin tears her eyes away from yours to focus on the other player of this perverse game. 

“Hi baby,” she greets her ‘lover’, all sweet and cute like she isn’t pumping your saliva-slick shaft in her hand as she calls him a pet name. “I was missing you, so I called.”

“Oh… I’m kinda busy now.” he sounds highly uninterested in her, tone dull and dry as Heejin takes a moment to give your cock a squeeze. “Can you call me back another time?”

For a moment, you’re ecstatic. Maybe you wouldn’t have to be subject to her games this time. 

“Quick chat. Promise,” Heejin fires back. She smiles wickedly, relishing the look on your face as you stare at her in a mix of shock and horror. “Just tell me about your day so far. It’s so hard to wait for you to get home to tell me about your day.”

There’s a moment of silence. Heejin takes advantage of the situation; she puts you back into her mouth and makes quick, sloppy work of your cock. The sound of slurping and gurgling is almost deafening, and there’s no way in hell that this man on the other side of the phone was not hearing all of this as Heejin blew you. You tilt your head back, clenching your teeth to prevent the guttural groan that’s building up deep within your chest from escaping your body. You’re hoping deep breaths of air can fill the space – block the desire to cry out in pleasure at the cusp of being translated into phonetics.

“Fine.” you’re almost grateful to hear that dull voice. “I’ve just been doing some filing and some paperwork… Nothing much really.” 

“Mhm,” Heejin mumbles, your cock still in her mouth. She frees it for a second to deliver a line—that sounds like super important work babe—that’s definitely sarcastic in her head and in concept, but masterfully manipulated to sound sincere and enthusiastic. “Anything else?”

“Uh… No.”

Heejin seems almost too gleeful between your legs. “Great. I’ll give you a quick run-down of my day then.”

She proceeds to give him utter bullshit, lying through her teeth about lazing around in her dorm and eating yoghurt. All the while she’s lazily delivering firm pumps to your cock, the sound of her spit squelching in her own hand a little too loud for your liking. Then she starts twisting, and you feel as if all hell is breaking loose inside of you. Your throat is pricked with the sharp gasps that are fighting to be let out of your mouth, skin tingling with the effervescence of pleasure racing through just about every vein in your body. You’re certain you have a knuckle-white grip on your sheets as uses her thumb to rub against the underside of your slit while her other fingers pull the skin around your head tight to keep the sensitive part of you exposed to her impending assault. 

“Oh, and by the way,” she adds, and you’re wondering what other lies she’s capable of generating right now. “I got a call from my old friend that I met at the club before the wedding… He says he wants to be my personal photographer.”

And now you’re shocked and stunned. What was a passing joke yesterday is now being used against you in a way that you can’t even fathom. Heejin revels in the silence—and all the emotions that could possibly be engendered by that single statement—as she smiles and licks you from base to tip. The layer of saliva around your cock thickens, and she uses that to get more aggressive with her motions. You didn’t know if she has limits to her cruelty, and you really hope that she’s reaching it soon. 

“You know how I feel about that guy…” he begins.

“I know, I know… I’m just telling you to keep you in the know.”—her dismissal of his worries is quick and almost genuine if it weren’t for the fact that she was going against his wishes while she assuages his worries—”wouldn’t want to fight with you again, would I?”

He grunts in agreement. “Stay away from him baby. He’s bad company.”

“Yeah,” she hums, locking eyes with you as she hovers her mouth over your tip. She gives it a swipe of her tongue, smiling as you grimace under the pressure that shoots up from your crotch. “He’s such a bad guy…”

Not that you’re into this or anything, but hearing that drawl—sinful and sultry; raunchy and earthy—made your breath hitch a little. Sure, you’re no stranger to Heejin’s sensual side; but this was a bit of her that you had yet to experience. It felt like she’d dug up a new side to her, something unearthed and unaired, and you’ll be the only one to see it. She could take your breath away in many ways and you’d just found another.

The man on the other end grunts once more. With a gruff “Alright. I’ll text you later”, he hangs up on Heejin, leaving you free to let out the breath that you’d been holding in up till that point. 

“Isn’t he a bundle of sunshine?” Heejin drops the facade almost instantly, using the hand that wasn’t occupied with your cock to retrieve her phone. “Five minutes and twenty-seven seconds… Huh. That’s longer than most of our calls.”

You can only pant and watch as she giggles and tosses her phone aside. She crawls back up the bed and takes your lips into hers, and you’d like to think that it’s a sweet apology for the hell she’d just put you through. Deep down you know it wasn’t, but you’re in the mood for some wishful thinking after what you went through.

“Not sure if I’m being greedy here,” Heejin whispers, “but I’d like you to indulge me just a little more…”

“I’d like to hear this one through first,” you quickly request, because no way in hell were you about to live through those 5 minutes and 27 seconds for a second time. “Can’t let you bite off more than you can chew.”

Heejin laughs, fully aware where this was coming from. 

“Don’t worry. I think you’ll like this one,” she assures you, placing a hand on your chest for good measure. “Hand on my heart, honest-to-god: you’ll love this one as much as the next guy.”

You couldn’t help it. You had to check her – match her step for step.

“Considering that I just saw you lie through your teeth, I think it’s fair to say that I don’t quite trust you,” you tell her as plainly as you can. And it’s not that you actually don’t, but more so the fact that you’re just baiting her into saying something really raunchy that’ll rile the two of you up to no end. Depravity is the root of really good sex after all.

“I promise you,” her lips tilt at an angle as she smiles, “when we're done with this one, I’ll let you cum in my mouth.”

***

You figured that she’d come to you with the news at some point – tell you that he’d found her out and that things are gonna happen and blah blah. What you didn’t expect was for her to show up in the middle of the night to be a bearer of bad news.

“Went back to get a sweater that I’d forgotten,” Heejin’s explaining, a can of beer in her hand and fry in the other. “Open the door and next thing I know, the fucker’s blowing up on me in my face.”

She takes a swig and sighs. “Never liked him anyway… We fought more than we talked. Before you ask, make-up sex was horrible.”

You can only frown and nod in sympathy. You’re complicit in this whole ordeal and so don’t have much of a say in this thing. Guilty as charged, red-handed and whatever. You’re just glad that he didn't come over and beat you up like she said he would. Heejin downs the rest of the beer in the can in a gulp and gently places it on your table.

“Is anything gonna happen to you?” you can’t help but ask out of concern. 

Her smile assures you a little, but her words don’t, “honestly? I don’t know. I’ll find out if my publicist gives me hell tomorrow.”

She rises from her seat. “I’m just glad it’s over,” she says. “Don’t know how much longer I could’ve lived with that dry son of a bitch.”

Her sweater comes off her body. She tosses it at you. In her T-shirt, she struts towards the bedroom, stops in the doorway. With a look over her shoulder, she beckons you to join her—come make my night, would ya?—before slipping into the room.

Always a dance with her.

***

You’re starting to question where Heejin draws the line between her sex life and her regular life. 

(You’ve said this about a thousand times by now, but) Not that you’re carping or whatever, it’s just that sex on the kitchen counter while your instant noodles are clearly being overdone in the pot a few meters away is a bit of a safety hazard. You’re no chef, but bubble frothing out of a closed pot really isn’t a good sign.

“Heejin,” you say, struggling to fit her name between the ragged breaths and frantic thrusts. 

“I know,” she rasps in reply. “Ngh… We can… Turn it off later. I’m so close.”

Pretty solid reasoning in your opinion.

How you got into this situation is a bit more complicated that you’d care to explain, but let’s just say that a late night snack can quickly turn into a literal fuck-fest when Jeon Heejin palmed the shape of your boner as you put a pack of instant noodles into a boiling pot. You didn’t know what came over you really, but after the noodles went in and the pot lid was closed, you had her propped up on the counter and her panties around her ankles. You can figure out how you got to this point. 

Okay: to be fair to Heejin, you did kinda start this whole situation that might just put your lives on the line. You’re the perpetrator, criminal mastermind; yada-yada. But if you were to consider the technicalities, she did aggravate you to fuck her, and by so virtue of that you’re kinda both at fault. Does it make sense? Great, cause a situation where you’re both a little dirty minded makes for really great sex. 

Great… Now you just explained the complicated situation. Eh, who’s exempt from a little contradiction now and then. Anyway… Where were you?

“Oh my fucking god.” she’s moaning a lot louder than usual, loud enough to probably convert her voice into some sort of energy for the homeless or something. Between her thighs lay a wet mess that was the source of all this crying and keening, and your juice slicked cock is the thing that’s driving her wild with ecstasy as she wraps her legs around your waist and pulls you deeper into each thrust with her legs. “Fuck me harder please. I need to cum all over your pretty cock so badly I–”

She barely has it in her to finish her sentence. Her plea is truncated by a sharp cry, and it would be pretty funny if it weren’t for the fact that it's probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard. The cry is almost delicate, fragile to the ear and almost like sweet music that plays in the dark. The keyword here is ‘almost’. Your description rings true, but the fact that she’s such a needy little bitch right now kind of ruins it. ‘Ruin’ is a little heavy handed; ‘taint’ would be a better word. 

Yeah… Her want taints the beauty behind her desire… But only a little.

“I’m cumming”—Heejin’s practically whimpering at this rate. God you’d have quite the mess to clean up later—”I’m fucking cumming on your cock daddy I–Oh… Oh god oh fuck.”

“Fucking cum,” you hiss, saliva flying past your teeth and maybe onto her ear. “Be a good little slut and cum for me. Give me a nice and tight pussy to cum inside of.”

It feels weird, dirty even, referring to Heejin as a slut, but her reaction tells you she likes it. She loves being called your slut. You can see her mouth agape, tongue sticking out a little. She can barely keep her eyes open as the pleasure courses through her. Her nails dig into your back, and you think she might be drawing blood, but the pain doesn't matter right now. The only thing that matters is the sight before you.

She cums hard, and you know this because her walls clamp down on you like a vice. If you could, you would have taken a picture. The sight is just that amazing, but you're also preoccupied. The pressure is just right. The rhythmic pulsing of her walls against your throbbing cock is too much for you to take. Your hips stutter to a stop as you release a deep moan, and she gasps as she’s filled with rope after rope of hot cum.

When you finally come down from your high, Heejin is still panting heavily, eyes still squeezed shut, and legs still wrapped around your waist. You can't hold back the little smile that crosses your face as you watch her catch her breath. She looks so peaceful. It's hard to imagine her as a girl with the dirtiest mouth you've ever heard. 

She peeks an eye open to see you staring.

“The pot dummy,” she reminds you, and the horrors of reality come crashing back all at once.

***

So you do find a little bit of a charm behind really soggy Buldak in the wee hours of the night. It’s not the best thing you’ve tasted, but it had its appeal. The sauce helped to mask the depression in the sad, close-to-slimy strands of dough in your bowls, though it didn’t stop you from experiencing a new texture that was severely overcooked noodles.

“Still think we could’ve left it in a little longer,” Heejin muses, staring at the limp noodle trapped between her chopsticks. “Maybe from there we could reverse-engineer the noodle and re-cook it.”

“Yea. And maybe we don’t fuck when there’s clearly a four minute limit to this stuff,” you add befor slurping up the last few spicy, sad and soggy strands in your bowl. 

“Hey. I’m pretty sure the sex was good enough to offset this abomination,” she huffs, setting down her bowl next to yours. “Besides… We’re kinda both in the wrong this time. It’s not always just me you know?”

“Never said it was your fault.” you’re admiring the way her eyes glow in the dim light. At the right angle, it looked like the light was filling her pupils in the most adorable way. “You’re just inferring shit from a passing statement.”

“Wonder where I picked that up from…” she fired back, though it felt much more like she was conceding defeat than challenging further provocation. It was always a dance with her: unpredictable patterns in constant motion, and all you can do is follow her lead.

Maybe one day you’d find the time - make up for the dance you lost and dance with her for real.

Hi. Kinda posting here again because my therapist said that it was good for me to continue writing to regulate my emotions. This one is kinda messy and unedited cause I just wanted to get this out here for funsies. Anyway, I won't be posting as frequently as I used to, but I will drop by from time to time. No promises that I'm gonna be incredibly active and no promises that I won't disappear of the face of the earth again.

Cheers, Nichu

[nichuuu]

Hello

I really hoped that I wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but things in my life have taken a turn, and I can no longer continue writing. I know I have requests and unfinished business, but I can’t control the circumstances in my life.

My page will remain so you can continue to read the stories. Thank you for this wonderful community. and to my fellow writers: thank you for making me feel at home. Be safe, be kind, and may you always be happy. One last time: this is Nichu signing out.

~Nichu

Edit: kinda back now? Not really as alive as I used to be but eh. I’ll write when I feel like it. Stay safe out there gang.

18/12/24

[nichuuu]

Scatterbrain

Word count: 18k+

They say it takes a village to raise a child. 

To raise a girl as fine as Jang Wonyoung, you’d probably need 3 whole villages.

Two of those three villages would be used to train the way she walks because it’s perfect: classy, poised, elegant. The other one would have to work on her outfits because god would she need those. Hopefully the village doesn’t operate a Shein style manufacturing line. She’d hate that.

Her face is the definition of “striking the gene pool lottery”, and so is the rest of her body. Lanky arms and legs; toned, slim tummy; big, bright eyes that glimmer under the flashing lights. Personally, you like her “you’re on camera” smile the most. She knows this, and she always makes it a point to shoot it your way as she struts towards you. She stops half way to get a flute of Champagne, make that two actually, then grabs another. Those long legs can cover one hell of a distance, and they bring her right to you in a matter of seconds.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she hands you the Champagne flute in her left hand, and the rings on it shine in the light, “cause it’s starting to feel like you’re just stalking me now.”

Of course, it’s the snarky remarks that open the conversation. Jang Wonyoung, airheaded as ever m’lady, and you sip on the Bubbly that she’s very nicely delivered to you. Wonyoung is, of course, a little bit of an airhead in your books (only because she believes that you’re always there for her, nothing else), and it’s never not hilarious to watch her draw her lips into a thin line. It’s not the first time she’s hearing this from you; it certainly won’t be the last. You can’t control where you’re posted to, but you know for a fact that you’ll see her again a couple months down the road.

Cause your meetings with Jang Wonyoung are through pure serendipity really, and you certainly will start calling it that after you read that one story. You know: the one where this guy cheats on his idol girlfriend, who he has a tense relationship with, with another idol that he happens to meet just about everywhere. There’s 0 communication between the two of you when these types of events come around, and neither of you know if either of you will be there or not. Actually, it’s just you really; neither of you know if you will be there. 

“Here for Kwon Eunbi again? Or are you finding someone else?” This question of her’s is customary at this point. Never once has it been perfunctory.

“Well, I was actually here to try and catch an interview with Jo Yuri, but I guess you’ll do,” you reply. Wonyoung scoffs—so I’m second place then?—and you have to assuage her oh-so-damaged ego, “you’re making this inference on your own Princess. I never said anything remotely close to that.”

And it’s that smile on her face that makes you want to kiss her really. It’s gorgeous, it’s cute, it’s beautiful. She’s given you that damned smile so many times that you could probably draw it from memory, though you’d definitely butcher it. The dress is certainly doing it justice, and you watch it brush against the skin of her legs as she shifts her weight to the other foot. I’ve never been that good at inferences. You’re far better than me, Prince, and she’s playing with her hair: twirling and untwirling it around her finger. That ribbon atop her head… Her stylist certainly knows their stuff.

“Think I’ll win an award this year?” Her question draws you away from your thorough examination of her. You take a moment to think, and you have to say, it depends, but I think you could definitely get something in some category. She gives you this inscrutable look, and she’s chuckling to herself as she looks at the crowd and sips on her champagne. You can guess what she’s about to say next: quite the crowd today, huh? And you’d reply, “Don’t think that they’re all here for you”, and that would prompt her to shoot back with, “Then who are they here for? You?”. 

But of course, when do things ever go according to plan?

“Have you thought about my offer?” she asks, and you’re caught off guard. 

Cause here’s the history between you two: Middle school best friends, always kind of inseparable. She was the beauty queen, it girl, and she still is; you were the writer, head of the school magazine, and you’re pretty much writing for the rest of your life. Wherever you went with her, rumours followed—Are they dating? I think they’re just friends. Maybe she’s trying to be the front of the magazine?—but you never thought much of it. It was just a simple friendship to you, nothing more. 

Then the kiss she gave you in high school changed it all.

It was a party, hosted by one of your mutual friends. She kissed you, and no, it wasn’t a Spin The Bottle forfeit, nor was it a dare of any sort; it was a sincere, tender kiss in the garden—unprompted, and away from any prying eyes and soft like silk chiffon. You have to admit, the sensation had your brain mired for a minute or so. But when you came back to your senses, you kissed her right back, and things got complicated after that. 

No one knew of it; it was your little secret. Wonyoung became closer than ever, and next thing you know, she declares the two of you “exclusive” but not dating. It’s because her agency has that funky dating ban thing, and Wonyoung was desperate to find a loophole, albeit a little complex. Of course, you’re willing to stay “exclusive” with Wonyoung in secret, but you started to worry that it can’t stay this way for long after the two of you get out of high school. 

But as fate would have it, your career paths meet at the crossroads, and now you see her every other month or so. You still text her when you can, and the “exclusive” relationship has sustained. Now that she’s an adult and she’s bringing in mad bucks for the agency, she’s informed you of some changes in her contact. From there, the offer was birthed, and you have left it unchecked for the past four months or so, “grey ticked” as she liked to call it.

“You haven’t texted in a while, thought you died,” she continues, leaning on her elbows against the table. “Thank god you’re alive, huh?”

You hoped that she’d just forget about it, but she’s more of a mnemonist than you give her credit for. An award show is the last place you expected to be caught off guard by Jang Wonyoung, but she’s definitely a master of surprise. I uh… I haven’t really thought about it, is a lie you tell her and yourself. She smiles enigmatically, downs the rest of her Champagne. 

“Let’s talk about it tonight,” she touches your chest, and it’s soft like silk chiffon, “you know where to find me, Prince.”

She struts off to join the rest of her members, stops halfway to return her Champagne flute, then looks back at you over her shoulder to give you a small wave. You sip on your Champagne as the silk brushes against her skin. 

It’s a heavy breath that leaves your mouth, and it’s the rest of the Champagne that goes in.

*

302.

Gold lettering, black plaque. It’s grand, pretty elegant. Suits her well. 

Then the door opens. 

In her bathrobe, Jang Wonyoung shoots her “you’re on camera” smile. You’re earlier than expected—she lets you in—Matter of fact, I thought you might not show at all.

And it’s a must to quip back, “thought you’d be asleep by now you big baby.”

When the door closes, it’s straight to work, and here’s how that normally goes: kissing, undressing, foreplay, then finally—fucking. Not that it has to follow that order or anything, but it’s the unspoken schedule that Wonyoung’s written up. God forbid anyone goes against what the princess is comfortable with, not that you’d ever try to either way. Your voice is barely a mumble past her lips—aren’t we supposed to talk about something?—and Wonyoung’s quick to dismiss any queries, “later. There’s always time for it later”. 

So it’s the kiss that’s pulling you back into her. Her front teeth capture your bottom lip, pull, drags it back a little like she’s trying to unwrap you like a present. You hold her waist, and with gentle hands, you push her back against the wall. It’s not that you’re trying to get control or anything; you’re just attempting to give her something to work with, a place to rest as she starts to work on the buttons of your shirt. 

“Are you already naked underneath that?” you whisper, though it’s more of a drawl than a whisper. In response, she momentarily stops with your buttons to slide a section of her bathrobe away, giving you a good look at a column of her naked, milky skin. 

In short: Yes, she is very much naked under that robe.

“Don’t get distracted, my prince. Eyes up here.”

“You’re the one that made me look, princess.”

She’s evidently struggling with the last button of your shirt, and you have to let go of her for a moment to help her get it done. Then it’s off with the shirt, and she flings it against the door for convenience sake. Your belt’s next, and that’s taken care of before you can even say, let me undress you Princess. It does make her hesitate at the clasp of your trousers for a bit. Just for a bit.

“I’d like,” her fingers are moving again, and they’re awfully quick at unfastening your pants, “for you to unwrap me on the bed instead.”

How raunchy of her. Makes you want to try her on.

Your pants fall. Your hand slithers into the bathrobe. Her jaw drops. Wonyoung my darling, and your fingers have captured one of those perky breasts, the right one to be exact. How do you ever—it’s light pressure to the nipple for you; it’s mind melting for her—get away with being such a big slut? Look at you, I’m barely even squeezing here. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes wide, mouth agape and her chin tucked into her neck. Frame it up, take a step back, admire it. It’s the face of someone who’s pent up, the expression of a needy girl who’s been aching to get some dick. Maybe if you guys had met a little sooner, she wouldn’t be this sensitive. But now? A twist of your forefinger and thumb is all it takes to draw a cry out of her, a little more pressure is enough to rain hellfire upon her. What a crazy-hot mess she is; only god knows how to clean her up and get her sorted out.

Open mouth straight to your ear, Wonyoung lets out a breathy gasp. In your fingers, the stiff peak rolls between the pads—back, forth, back, forth: motions that make her weak in her knees. It’s with great effort that she pulls your face back to hers, captures you in her quivering lips. Elegance has long been thrown out the window by now, and it’s not going to be returning for quite some time, as if you ever need it at a time like this. She’s barely holding herself up at this point. Where did the prim proper Jang Wonyoung go? 

The answer’s in her kiss—gone, dusted, she was here just a minute ago though. She’s grasping at whatever inch of your skin she can find, and her nails are definitely gonna be leaving marks on the sides of your neck. You let out a small, wry laugh as you silently observe her behaviour, watching her implore without speaking, badger without requesting. It’s an art form really, the form of expression for the horny and desperate and bratty. When her hands grip your face and her nails sink into your cheek, you pinch a little harder and relish the pleasant vibrations that are sent into your mouth as she gasps. Her palms press into your jaw, and they’d probably crush it if you press any harder. Her feet patter against the wood as she starts to direct you to the bed. You kick off your shoes together with your pants. 

It’s definitely a sight to take in: Jang Wonyoung in a massive king size bed, a thin bathrobe being the only thing between you and that wonderful body being the bathrobe. Maybe if she wasn’t in this state she’s in, she’d gesture to you with a come hither motion, and invite you to remove the fabric from her body. Instead, she opts for a spine tingling mewl, and that’s your invitation to her body. It’s hardly an insinuation; the fact that she wants to be unwrapped like a present is undeniable, she used the word unwrap herself. The bunny knot holding the two pieces of fabric is symmetrical—has Wonyoung’s fingerprints all over it. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s watching you with a half-open mouth, maybe you’d compliment her on her efforts a little, maybe even call her “princess” a couple more times before you properly ruin her.

(But she’s already ruined, ruined by a mere bit of pressure to the nipple. What else can make her tick now?)

Her body is at your mercy and it, quite literally, jerks as you start to pull at the knot, undoing it centimetre by centimetre, millimetre by millimetre, inch by inch. You want to see how long she can watch for, how long she can witness herself be undressed in a painfully slow fashion. Needy as she is, she’s patient as she watches one end of the rope grow longer. 

Longer. 

“Do you want me to speed this up, baby?” The smirk on your face would earn you a pout from her if her nerves weren’t in a bundle at the given moment.

“W-Whatever you want,” she answers, and her voice is brimming with breathy arousal. How are you getting away with all this? She’d grab your wrist and pull by now if she wasn’t so damn needy right now.

You give a dry laugh. “Then I’ll keep at this then.”

Longer.

“Fuck. Just pull it all the way already.” She looks you right in the eye as she begs you to hurry, and now you can see the need brimming in those large, round eyes, the ones that stare back at you with soft intensity, if that’s even possible. She’s good at mixing emotions into her stare.

“I thought you said—”

“Just fucking do it!”

Slack.

And the knot comes undone, and together with it, the robe falls off to the sides of her body—it’s beautiful. Never have you taken so much pleasure in undressing her, but you sure-as-hell have taken this much time to admire that wonderful, slender frame. From your standing view over her, you get down to her level to get a better look at her. It’s all part of the game of course: the way you look her in the eye, the way you touch her jaw ever so slightly to turn it towards you. The kiss is sickly sweet, and she’s starting to taste more and more like that cherry lipstick you gave her when you saw her some time ago at another event. Into your mouth, she lets out a sonorous moan. Your fingertips brush along her skin, slither down from her collarbone to her cleavage—down to that flushed pink region between her equally flushed thighs. Almost instantly, the tip of your digits are coated in slick fluids, and you raise an eyebrow at the girl on the bed.

“I literally touched you.” It’s amusement permeating your voice more than anything. In the sheets, she squirms in the slightest, eyes locked on your fingers that rest against that dripping heat and breath caught in her throat. You know that if you were to shift your finger in the slightest, you’d trigger a chain reaction that you have no power over. Her legs would clamp, her abdomen would tense, her eyes would roll. In the midst of it all, she’d maybe scream, or maybe she’d moan; either way goes. As far as you’re concerned, she’s needy as fuck at the moment, and she’s not going to let anything stop her from cumming.

“Yea, well… I can be sensitive.” Her defence is hardly a solid one, more of a perfunctory reply. Her head’s far from able to formulate a quip to throw back at you; that ability went out the window together with classy Wonyoung. “Put them in.”

You go against her request, and your fingers start to skirt the edges of that swollen, pink slit of hers. A crime—you’re going against the princess’ wishes, but realistically speaking: she can hardly be called a princess at the moment, so why comply? 

A portion of the bathrobe is still clinging on to her breast. You use your other hand to push it away, and the split second of contact makes her flinch. “Jesus. You’re so fucking turned-on right now,” you can’t help but muse, all while your fingers retrace te outline of her swollen lips. She’s shivering, she isn’t breathing quite right. “Do you want to moan, baby? Do you want to moan like a good little slut for me?”

And she fixes you with a glare. “F-Fuck you… Put them in.”

No “please” this time. Shame. If she were more polite, you would’ve obliged; now you’ll just have some more fun with her. 

Your thumb finds the swollen nub, and a little brush is all you need to get her straining like a psycho in a straitjacket. What will I ever do with you Wonyoung?—and she’s getting wetter by the second—You look so pretty when you’re so needy, you know that?—why would you ever, for a second, think that she’d be as refined as the last time? She doesn’t play with herself when she needs to get off; she waits till she sees you again to get off on your cock, your fingers, your mouth. Sexting was off the table, she wants you to be physically there, driving her insane as she lets herself come undone. 

“You know,” and you’re almost laughing as you watch her face twist even further, “that I could do this forever right? I could just lie here, tease you for as long as I want… Or maybe that’s what you want?

She’s messy, so fucking messy. Juices are starting to soak the bed—you can feel it as your fingertips round the bottom of her slit. Housekeeping would certainly question the spot, and the two of you wouldn’t be there to reply anyway. Her cheeks are flushed, the veins of her throat are popping. It takes a considerable amount of effort to stay this composed, but you know that she’s breaking more and more. With each round your fingers make, cracks start to form along that perfectly sculpted face. The fine lines on her forehead begin to show as her brows start to furrow. Strained sounds are coming from her throat as the urge to moan is slowly winning the battle against her will. She wants control, but she can’t have it when she’s a wet, hot mess next to you. She’s being bratty for the sake of it. Your fingers are your leverage against her. It’s killing her. It’s delighting you.

And just like fine China thrown against concrete, her will shatters. 

“Please! Put them in!”

And your fingers stop just at the top of her pussy. It feels like a long minute, but she isn't about to take another second of this. Her thighs clamp against your arm. Her fingers wrap around your wrist in desperation. She begs again. And again. And again. And again, again, again. The bed starts to creak as you start to move your fingers down her lips, down to the very end of her cunt.

God is she dripping.

“Will you moan for me?” you drawl huskily. A finger, two, three rest themselves against her heat. 

“Yes.” There’s barely any of her original self left in there. “Please just—”

The fingers breach her opening. She screams, a high-pitched, keening cry. The noise makes your cock strain in your boxers, and you have to grit your teeth as her inner walls wrap tightly around your intruding digits. A moment of stillness comes, a moment where she’s just breathing raggedly, struggling to process this pleasure that’s racking her body faster than she can comprehend. She’s a ticking time bomb of nerves; the slightest movement in this state could send her into perdition, and she’ll barrel past that point of no return faster than both of you can imagine. God, she’s sensitive. God, she’s a mess. 

The chuckle that departs from your mouth is one of perverse pleasure. “Baby,” you whisper, right into her ear as she struggles to catch her breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, and you watch with a grin as her chest rises and falls. The grip on your wrist is a vice, knuckle-white and unrelenting. She’s begging you, with her eyes, to start moving, and you have to tell her, “I can’t start till you let go of me, baby.”

And it’s with reluctance that she slips her hand off your wrist, but that hand won’t stay empty for long. You guide it to her own breast, and with a soft whisper, you tell her to squeeze. She’s servile. She complies without protest. Her eyes slowly open themselves, and you relish the way they’re lust-glazed appearance looks under warm light while her breaths level themselves out. For a moment, there’s calm. For a moment, it’s tender.

Then your fingers start to move. All hell breaks loose.

Everything she did to calm herself quickly becomes futile; it becomes undone as her back arches in a way that catches your breath in your throat. Your fingers graze her walls, pressed into each other as they slowly draw in and out of her. And mind you: you’re going slow, slow enough to make her feel every bit of your fingers brush against her insides. But it’s enough to make her curse, enough to get her mewling like a damn kitten while her hips start to rock, rubbing her clit against the base of your palm. There’s no way to describe how needy she looks; her want is beyond words, and you’ve barely even started. Three fingers is the most you’ve ever put inside her. Clearly, it’s working wonders for her.

And now you yourself have to admit: you’ve wanted her for some time now. Since the last time you saw her, you’ve fantasised about that slim tummy twitching, about holding that snatched waist once more, about those long legs wrapped around your neck while your tongue and fingers turn her into a pliant plaything. For weeks, you’ve wanted nothing more than pulling Jang Wonyoung apart, reduce her into a withering mess wherever you guys are and get her screaming till she’s sore. You can’t even begin to describe what you’ve done with her in your dreams, nor can you ever convey how it feels to desire her as much as you have. So, you put all of it into action, sordid sentiments channelled into your fingers that are making those cute features twist and contort in perverse pleasure. She’s rambunctious, and her juices are quite literally soaking your hand, spilling the strongest sillage of lust all over the bed. 

“Why do you always have to be so fucking messy?” You’re really just trying to see how much you can get away with at this point, though the answer seems to be: just about everything. Your fingers start moving faster. You love the way her cheeks are starting to flush even more. “Are you always this wet? Or is it just for me?”

The squelching is lewder than you can ever imagine. The sound of her slick, wet heat being breached by your fingers is enthralling. Add the sounds she’s making into that and you have the ultimate erotica audio that can bless mankind. She’s panting, she’s moaning, she’s whining—she’s doing it all really, and you’re just using your fingers. God knows how she’ll react once you’re inside of her, rock hard meat stretching her out instead of a few fingers fiddling around in warm walls. 

But hey, the sounds she’s making are ever so erotic, and she’s definitely making your blood flow to all the right places. She feels out of place; you can’t put your finger on what’s wrong in this whole thing. It’s probably a small detail, something you’d overlook over the sight of her chest heaving as air shoots out and gets sucked back into her mouth, her whole body straining and convulsing against the bed while you get a thumb on her clit and rub at a languid tempo. Probably something miniscule, not worth mentioning because all your attention is focused on the look on her face (you want to mess up the makeup so badly it’s almost frustrating). And no, you’re not trying to make her cum in five seconds; she’s just really riled up—bundle of nerves and trigger happy. Probably hasn’t been treated this way in a while, probably hasn’t had three fingers twisting around, sliding in and out of that tight wet hole slow enough to make her feel every bit of skin against her walls; fast enough to make her combust if you were to speed up, in, like, forever. 

“I–I…” She’s quite literally mewling, and the sharpness in her voice is so cutting that it makes an incision in a bag inside you that’s keeping all the perverse thoughts at bay. The thoughts are leaking out now, and it’s almost impossible to stuff them back in. You want her against the glass: tits against the window and ass in your hands while you pump and pump and pump into that slick tight hole; you want nothing more but to pick her up and have her lock her legs around you, tight frame flushed against you while you nail her against one of these walls that surround you; you want to unhinge that jaw and watch that pretty mouth—now parted to let the stream of moans flow—take your cock in and out between those kiss-swollen lips and watch the drool leak out the corners of her mouth. Shit. It’s killing you. Jang Wonyoung, dolled up. She’s killing you. 

(No way in hell are thighs meant to be this hot, and lips are not  supposed to look this delicious. Yet Jang Wonyoung somehow goes against every fucking norm, fights it naturally and effortlessly and wins like a seasoned warrior. So just for her case: her thighs can be this hot and flushed, and her lips can look this fucking appetising. You kiss her; it’s sloppy, it’s lewd, it’s hot and everything in between. Mark her neck, mark that row of skin above her right collarbone, mark her everywhere. Cusses are flying—god forbid her agency finds out about the things hse says while she’s getting fingered. She's making a mess out of herself. She’s making a mess out of you.

Fingers, just fingers and she’s already looking like this: hair fanned out, frazzled, looking like she just went through a car wash and yet somehow has her make-up intact. Fuck. You want to watch the mascara run, watch it streak while she tears up as she’s choking down cum and she’s struggling to take in air. Pretty little princess, messy and glacially being turned into some improper slut. It’s hard to not smirk while you ruin her with the same fingers you use to type articles about her—fingers that sing praises and can also make her moan enough to make her throat hoarse.)

The rhythm of your hand makes her body roll. Her toes–painted over, fresh manicure—curl into the sheets. Doe-like eyes stare back at you, plump red lips part to gasp your name, throat muscles strain trying to  curse and moan at the same time. The fingers are gliding in and out and in and out and she’s begging you to not stop (like hell you ever would) in those choke up little sobs while she’s—

Oh fuck baby I can’t I can’t I can’t — Anything. I’ll do anything. Please just let me cum. I’m so fucking close baby. Please just let me fucking cum. I’ll be a good girl. I-I promise I’ll be a good fucking girl for you just… Fuck!

—blue screening on your fingers: lost in the sauce or whatever. Pliant plaything, docile doll. You’re certain she hasn’t gotten off in at least a month if the way she’s taking it is any sort of yardstick. She’s far beyond drenched, far beyond salvation and way off the deep end of the “needy” pool—drowning herself in her own sea of sighs and gasps and moans and loose phonics that slip out of her mouth. Ostinato of your fingers squelching in her cunt; half time rhythm of the creaky bed; melody of the chorus of Jang Wonyoung’s voice—music to your ears.

And there’s lots to unpack from the moment you locate that soft spot at the top of her pussy. There’s a lot of cussing, a lot of jolting, a fair amount of whining and your name is thrown somewhere in that mix. You find her lips, she kisses back, one of her hands grabs your arm, nails dig in and stay there. Flurry of actions, filthy language—fucking hell, someone stop her.

Bottom line: lots of action. You find it congenial to start from the part where it quite literally ends her world. Once your digits curled up into that sensitive patch of flesh, it was all over for her.

You can pinpoint the exact moment where the orgasm rips through her body, the exact moment where her muscles seized so perfectly that her back arches. The pulse around your fingers is strong, walls tight around your digits and your thumb gently rubbing on her clit while the pleasure rolls through her body, molten iron libido converting the feeling between her thighs to electricity that makes her short circuit. The moan is breathy if anyone’s asking, and the look on her face—twisted, perverse satisfaction: superimposing need and want—has a whole foot over the line of pornographic. Wires are fraying in her head, her vocal cords are strained, she’s ruining the sheets with her juices; you’re complicit in every damn part of this, and guilt is the last thing on your mind.

Then her back falls back flat against the mattress, and the sheets ripple as her body makes a dense thump against the bed, punctuating the sigh she releases into the air. Nerves are unbundling themselves. She’s sweaty and panting. Your fingers are beyond soaked.

“Messy,” you muse, slowly drawing your juice slicked fingers out of her cunt. You bring them to her mouth. She languidly tastes herself, sweat-darkened sheets hugging the muscles of her shoulders and lining her ribs. She looks so tiny in the bed if you looked over the fact that her legs were dangling over the edge of the mattress, and that’s easy to do once you lean in for a kiss.

(It’s not hard to slip your tongue into her mouth, and there’s barely any fight left in her as you roll her nipple between your index finger and thumb. The sweat-matted hair sticking to her forehead adds a nice touch to her face.)

“Such a good girl.” Your tone is warm as you praise her, and a hand moves to cup her cheek in an act of tenderness. Her eyelids flutter shut. She puts the weight of her face into your palm. 

“Do I get my reward now?” she whispers, and it’s more of a plea than a question really. You take a moment, not to think, but to drag out the suspense for a little more before you give her an answer. You take guilty pleasure in knowing that you could keep her on tenterhooks for the whole night—the only thing stopping you is the throbbing of your cock in your boxers and the look of sheer need on her face. If you could: you’d drag this out a little longer, maybe tease her a little and call her more names. You still could do that, but you’d much rather fuck her instead. 

“Where do you want it?” your thumbs hook into the waistband of your boxers and hook them down. Your cock springs free from its cottons confines, and Wonyoung’s eyes instantly dart to it. She may be a little obsessed with your cock, but only a little when she’s depraved (which is right now). Before you can even react, she has your shaft in her hand, lanky fingers wrapped around it and pumping it with considerate strokes. 

“I want a big load in my ass.” she requests, far from innocent and banking more towards improper, which seems to be a pretty big theme of hers tonight. “I’ve been wanting to feel daddy’s  hot load leaking out of my ass for a long time…” The strokes delivered to your length grow firmer and firmer by the second. “Please?”

The spikes of pleasure her small hand delivers to your system is really making it hard to say no at the given moment. Of course, she’s well aware of it, and she’s definitely feeling so damn smug right now. And so with a very clouded mind, you nod. She smiles smugly, unaware that you’re about to fuck that smug little smirk rig of her pretty face. Conveniently, she’s already on her back—it’ll make the process so much easier. 

“I take it that the lube is in your bag?” You raise. She grins and nods. 

Sure enough, you find it in the exact same place as it usually is: side pocket, right next to her lipstick. You toss it towards her and move around her, slip her ankles over her shoulders. She lies still, unmoving and obedient as her left calf goes past her head, then her right. You lean forward, and she gasps as she's almost bent her completely in half. She’s flexible; this position won’t bring any harm to her, but it is congenial to ruin her asshole and leave her sore for the next day or so, which is exactly what she wants, but probably not how she imagined herself getting it. She cracks open the lube, and with precision, squirts a generous amount of it on the tight ring of her ass, making eye contact with you all the while as the clear liquid gathers at the puckered ring of muscle. The tube is discarded to a side when she’s done, and she uses her hands to spread her asscheeks for you, inviting you to take your liberties with her hole.

“Come on Daddy,” she urges you. “Come fuck this ass,” she continues, her hands spreading her ass cheeks even wider as you start to line yourself up with the tight ring. “Wreck this fucking hole Daddy, I can fucking take it.”

To hear her say those words was almost enough to have you cum right there and then. You press the tip of your cock at the open, gaping hole of her ass, swirling it around the entrance, collecting more of the copious amounts of lube around it. She was generous with the amount of lube she dispensed; you're about to be generous with the strokes you're gonna make inside that ass.

(She yelps when you slide inside her ass. God does it feel so fucking divine.)

She is so tight and wet and hot that you think you could’ve cum with your first thrust inside her. Her pussy was tight and hot, but her ass was even tighter and even hotter. Even though your cock was slick with lube, it did close to nothing to keep the sheer tightness of her asshole from clenching around you like it was a really small glove. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been inside her ass, but it sure as hell felt like a novelty every single time you entered that tight ring of muscle. Fuck. The heat, the tightness—sublime. You think you could cum in a matter of seconds if you didn’t have self control.

“Go!’ she hisses, through the pain and discomfort. “Fuck me. Fuck my ass!”

You would have been happy to stay there, buried balls deep in Wonyoung’s ass, but her own words goad you into moving—slowly at first, but with a steadily increasing pace, you begin to fuck Wonyoung’s ass with long, slow strokes. She hisses—part glee, part discomfort—as your shaft starts to pump itself in and out of her ass. You draw yourself out till only the base of you tip remains inside of her, and then you thrust back in, hard, hard enough to make her yelp out in pained pleasure while she grits her teeth and watches your rock hard shaft fill her ass. It's a perverse show for her, and it brings you a sort of dark satisfaction in knowing that past all that discomfort she’s feeling, she loves the way your cock stretches her out and fills her defenceless little hole. 

With her ankles over your shoulders, you’re practically spearing yourself vertically into her ass, fucking her deep and making her feel every inch of your throbbing meat inside of that hot, tight hole. Every penetration is punctuated by a deep, guttural groan from Wonyoung, sometimes a curse, or something along the lines of: fuck. So fucking full. You know for a fact that the pained sounds you hear now will turn into airy gaps of pleasure once she gets used to the discomfort, and that she’d probably be a mewling mess by the time you reach the stage where she can take you in and out of her ass with only pleasure in her system and no pain. For now, you’ll settle with the pace you have—slow, long strokes in and out of her ass while she squeezes her eyes to block out all sensations distracting her from enjoying the sensation of her ass being filled with cock. You have to admit that she’s doing a great job at it, and your praise vocalises itself in the rather harsh form of, “what a good little slut.” 

(And here’s something interesting you noted: never once in this whole thing did she ask you to stop, nor did you ever think about stopping to let her adjust. If this was anyone else, you would have given them a moment to breathe upon entering, and you certainly would be checking on their wellbeing throughout it all. 

Thing is—the two of you know her too well to know that you could only dream of stopping once you got started with her, and it could only end in two ways. 1) You cum in her. 2) You cum on her. Edge her and you’ll never get the end of it, you would know. The last time you pulled a stunt on her like that, she left you tied to a chair with a vibrator taped to your cock till you were begging and a cummy mess. It wasn’t pretty. She could dominate if she wanted to, but she preferred to be a manipulative brat instead.)

It’s not long before she’s desensitised to the pain, and your slow pace is not enough, no, not for Wonyoung. Next thing you know it, she hissing for you to go faster, fuck her harder—I told you to fuck my ass Daddy. Don’t hold back on me now—and deeper. She swears, all three languages that she knew strung together shabbily like they were put together on some shitty production line and thrown out at random—and while you made little sense of the sounds coming out of her filthy mouth you knew what they meant.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

Then you fuck her ass. Hard and fast.

You almost surprised yourself with the liberties you were taking, drilling in and out of her butt with the same speed and depth that you would use with her mouth and pussy.

“Yes!” she shouts—a loud, full shout. “Yes! Fuck me like this! Pound me, fuck me until you cum in my slutty little ass!”

You grunt in reply, because it was all you could do. The faculties of human language have long since abandoned your grasp and ability, and nothing else exists in your mind except the thought of filling her tight, hothole with warm, white semen. Her eyes lock with yours and you only find that they’re full of need, nothing else (not like she’s capable of displaying any other emotion at the moment). The rest of you, every fibre of your being, was focused on pounding Wonyoung’s tight little hole as hard and fast as you possibly could. Her ankles bounce helplessly behind your head, her knees press into her shoulders and her breath is ragged; sweat drips off your forehead and onto her tits, and your hot breath mixes with hers as you struggle to keep yourself propped up with your arms.

In short: the two of you are sweaty and messy (one more so than the other. Take a pick, not sure if there’s a prize for guessing right), victims of lust and slaves to pleasure. You blame Wonyoung just because you can.

For a few delicious moments, there is absolutely nothing in the world aside from the tight hot sheath of flesh around your cock, the warm flesh of her legs against your shoulders and the strands of sweat-slick hair that fly just about everywhere, all topped with the lewd, filthy, obscene words spilling from Wonyoung’s mouth. For a few delicious moments, she feels nothing but the feeling of her tight hole being stretched and used by the cock that turns her face into a wrought outlet of pleasure while she lets filthy words and exclamations spill from her lips. 

Try as you might, you couldn’t have it last forever. Not when you were already so turned on from watching her writhe and twitch under your fingers. Not when the sheer, pure pleasure overwhelming you was more than enough to cause you to cum at any moment.

And when she orgasms for the second time, her ass tightening exponentially around you—there is little you or anyone else could have done to stop the inevitable.

“I’m gonna cum in your ass, Wonyoung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, your lust and pleasure-addled brain on the edge of losing all comprehension.

“Cum with me! Fill me!” 

And so you do it, burying yourself hilt deep inside the quivering woman’s asshole before filling it with the last of your cum, giving her every last drop you had left in your body, leaving rope after rope inside her sore, well-used, cum-filled asshole. You almost black out, and you quite literally have to dig your nails into the sheets while Wonyoung’s own orgasm takes over her body, making her twitch and her ass contract—milking every last bit of cum from your throbbing, twitching length till it was nothing but a dry, hard rod inside of her creamy asshole. 

There’s silence that is punctuated by both of your ragged breaths. She looks at you, you look at her. And the two of you can’t help but chuckle at the mess you’ve made of each other. You want to remember the way her nose wrinkles as she teases you, “you fucking animal”, and you want, so badly, to burn the image of a sweaty, weary Jang Wonyoung, folded in half beneath you like she was a piece of origami paper, panting and gasping as a fresh load of cum spills out of her ass. 

It takes energy, but you bend down and kiss her, letting her sweaty calves slide off your equally sweaty shoulders as you do. She’s satisfied, for now, and she pulls you down next to her on the hotel bed with one hand and gathers the cum leaking out of her ass with the other. 

“Look at this,” she whispers, and your eyes train themselves on the pearlescent, sticky, slimy, fluids that run down from her fingertips slowly. “You made such a big mess inside my ass,” she chides before bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking your cum right off her fingers like it’s a delicacy. “Now I have to clean all of this up. You’re lucky I like the way your cum tastes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Um… Ew?”

Wonyoung smirks and gently nudges you with her left foot.

“It’s okay,” she tells you, all smug and everything. “I know you love the way I taste too.”

* In the dark, her small hand creeps around your torso and grasps yours. 

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” She’s whispering right into your ear, and it’s a sensation you want to be able to hold on to for the rest of your life. “I know your eyes are open.” The feel of her small fingers rolling the knuckle of your index finger sticks itself in your head like a post-it. “ I can hear and feel you tossing, you know?”

Okay. No dodging. 

The sheets stay still as your shoulders turn. You roll over, face her, and you really just want to capture the way the night lights paint her face: doe-like eyes reflecting glimmering pools of moonlight, warm yellow light painting her cute-yet-so-fucking-gorgeous face in a manner that not even Van Goh could copy, lips parted slightly as if in mid speak. She’s right there—you can kiss her if you really want to.

“Are you still mad at me?” She asks, tender with her tone. “I know that I fucked up, okay?” You can tell that she’s not even trying to look pitiful at the moment, but the way her face is sculpted really makes you want to just hold her to your chest and stroke her hair. Sincere are her words—heart heaved into her mouth. “I don’t blame you if you’re still mad. It’s your right. But… Just hear me out? Please?”

If you were mad, you wouldn’t have let her hold your hand the way she was now. If you were mad, you would’ve pretended to be fast asleep; ignore her pleas and just close your eyes and fall asleep. Alas, you can never stay mad at her for too long.

“I was… Never really angry, Wony.” Your tone is a lot softer than you would ever expect, but you know it’s because you probably needed this talk more than she did. “I... I’m sorry if it came across that way.”

And she studies you for a moment, lets the sound of your breathing fill the space as she furls her upper lip into her front teeth, and it’s a perfect moment for you to try and understand what’s happening in her head. She’s a complex creature really; understanding her is like finding a meaning that everyone can agree on when you look at abstract art.

Down below, you can still hear the cars moving through the street. Billboards and screens are still on, and from the window in your bedroom, multi-coloured lights filter into the room past the blinds like moonlight through bamboo leaves. The sheets you lie in are fresh, and they feel nice and smooth against your skin, and they smell like roses. The mattress creaks a little as Wonyoung shifts her weight, and you have to admit that you’re half-drunk on the scent of her shampoo. 

“You must have been scared,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I got really emotional. I… I shouldn’t have walked out. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that. Not now at least. Maybe it’ll come to you the next morning.

You give her a sweet smile. You hug her to your chest. You want to remember how she feels in your arms.

*

The gentle trickle of water down the arch of her spine is really something—a steady stream flowing down her back, running over the muscles of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts and fraying at her plump ass. You can’t remember the last time you showered with her, but you certainly remember the view being this good. 

In the shower of room 302, Jang Wonyoung lets the warm water hit her skin from the rain shower nozzle. Her hair—wet and freshly shampooed (and conditioned)—sticks to her back. Creamy skin glistens, small beads of water affix themselves to random parts of her body, stay there for one or two seconds, then roll down in streaks, almost as if they too were admiring Wonyoung’s well-sculpted figure.

Slim fingers grasp locks of hair. She lifts and looks over her shoulder, the whisper of a grin on her face as she shoots a beckoning wink. “Are you gonna help me soap my back? Or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?”

“Don’t you have to, like, turn off the water first?” you ask, and you already know what she’s gonna say, but you just want to hear her say it. For memory sake.

“Mmmm.” Her humming as she ‘ponders’ reverberates in the shower, floating over the sound of water from the shower head falling to the floor like rain. “No… Adds to the atmosphere, don’t you think?” 

Ah. There we go.

“Then could you at least step back?” you request. This shower is comically huge—long length, breadth about the same length as your arm span. In the space, she looks so tiny, but you know for a fact that she could probably walk to the other end of the shower in a stride. You’re not one to disregard the facts, but you do like to live with a bit of imagination.

Wonyoung chuckles, low and sonorous. She pushes her hair over her shoulder, then—painfully slowly—walks back till she’s out of the stream of water. Water wastage is the last thing on her mind. She stops when she feels your hands on her back, and she looks over her shoulder, expectant. You move your hands and the soap lathers as it’s spread. You start from the centre of her back, rubbing gently in the section where the muscles of her shoulders meet and working your way outwards and upward to her shoulders. Then it’s down from there, your palms moving in small circles and covering every inch of skin.

“You’re good at this,” she mutters, watching with intent as your hands start to trail to her lower back. “Maybe you should’ve been a masseuse instead of a writer.”

“Uh… Patronising much?” You chuckle, watching as her back muscles twitch a little when you apply gentle pressure. “The pay’s about the same,” the soap makes patterns across the area above her ass—spirals of foam that stick to her skin like styrofoam flowers. “The hours are probably the same… But I don’t think I can live on rubbing someone’s back really hard. I Think I’ll just save this service for you, but only for when we meet.”

Humored, Wonyoung offers a giggle, high pitched and cutting above the sound of water striking the floor tiles. She shifts her weight to her right foot, making her body slant a little. Her skin is soft under your palms. Your hands are going lower and lower, slowly spiralling towards the curve of her ass that’s literally just a centimetre away.

“You know…If you take up my offer, you can do this for me everyday.”

Your hands slow to a stop. You raise your head a little to find her searching for your gaze over her shoulder. “Oh?”

“Yea.” Her voice is low, like a mother trying to persuade her child to eat their vegetables. “Every night, we can be like this: you soaping my back, us chatting… Doesn’t it sound wonderful?”

Your lip furls behind your front teeth. “Yea… It really does.”

And in her gaze, you sense her sensing your apprehension. “What’s stopping you from taking it up then?”

(For context, here’s the deal proposed by her company: the two of you go public with the relationship, get clout for the company, and Starship will let you lead your lives together—no qualms, no disturbances. She can visit you whenever, live with you, appear outside together with you like it’s a regular Tuesday night; you get to date the girl you fell in love with all those years ago for real. Only issue: once you get the last stroke of your signature out on the contract, you practically agree to blurring the line between your private and public life. Press will be all over you like ants after you step on their nest, you probably won’t get to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace, everyone will suddenly want to curry favours with you… Was it worth the sacrifice?)

You find it hard to meet her eyes, and so your gaze affixes itself on your hands. It’s not like you don’t love her or anything, but your apprehension makes you feel like shit. It shouldn’t be this hard to say yes, yet the idea of selling your life of privacy to live a life with her makes you screech to a halt at the crossroads. Sometimes (in these moments), you wished that you didn’t always make decisions with your head and your heart. 

As the shower continues to run, Wonyoung slowly turns around. One hand finds yours, the other gently takes you by the chin and raises your eyes up to her. She’s tall, and the two of you are staring eye to eye; same height, different trains of thought.

The hand on yours guides you to her breast. Eyes locked with yours, she lays your palm flat against her tit. The skin beneath your fingers is slippery, but it doesn’t remove any of the familiarity from the sensation. Then she squeezes, and the flesh spills out between your fingers like putty. She gasps—airy. 

“Don’t you want me?” She whispers, and it’s raunchy more than anything. It isn’t aggressive, but it’s certainly blurring the line between demanding and caring. “Don’t you want to be able to fuck this pretty little pussy every night?”

She’s really far from home base. “Wony…”

“Don’t you love owning me?” She’s squeezing harder. Her knee twitches. Sopa’s spilling out of your fingers. You’re certain that you’re gonna mark her. She doesn’t care. “Don’t you want me all over you? Every night?”

“It’s not that Wonyoung.”

“Then what’s on your mind?” She’s not prodding for an answer, nor is she trying to demand a reason for your silence. She wants to understand you, to internalise what’s going on inside your head. You have no reason to lie.

“Will it all really be okay?” you ask sincerely. “My family, my life… Will… Will it all really be…”

She understands where you’re coming from (if the relieving of pressure around her own breast is any indication), and she’s starting to tune herself to the frequency of your worries. “If you’re wondering if you’re gonna be harassed—you won’t.”

“Yea but—”

“I promise you: I will do everything I can to make sure that you will be safe. You and your family–if so much as a finger is laid on any of you, I will quit.”

“Wonyo—”

“No one will intrude on you. You won’t have to live with the flashing lights. I give you my word: I will make sure that everyone who wants to invade your privacy will leave you alone. You and your family will all be left alone.”

If it’s possible for sincerity to ring clear, Jang Wonyoung has absolutely made it happen. Sweet like honey; she’s left you feeling like you had a spoonful of it. And just for good measure, she steps closer and repeats once more: “I promise.”

Considering that your hand was at the left side of her chest, this was really a “I swear. Hand to my heart” type of deal (whether it’s intended or not is purely up to your discretion). 

And as you gaze into those eyes, you want to remember the way she gazes at you softly, gently, tenderly. If it weren’t for your hand on her tit, you would’ve considered this one of the more tender moments you’ve shared with her. Not that it’s not or anything… Just that it’s a little hard to call this a loving moment when you can literally feel her nipple poking into the flesh of your palm at all times of the conversation.

“Are you sure you won’t land yourself in trouble?” you ask her, and she’s quick to scoff.

“Of course. I make too much fucking money fo those higher up fuckers to not listen to me,” she reminds you. 

Well… Then that settles about everything then.

“Okay,” you tell her. “Okay… I’ll do it.”

The corners of her lips play up in a smile. She leans in, kisses you—no tongue, closed mouth—and lets the hand keeping yours at her breast fall. Long arms wrap around your waist and she pulls you close, flushing her tight frame against your body. When lips part, she whispers a soft I love you, a sparkle in eyes that lingered for a moment.

But only for a moment.

Then—without you noticing—her hand snakes down and grips your rapidly hardening shaft, and she squeezes. This time, the line between demanding and caring is clear as day, and she’s chosen to play her ball to the court of demanding. With a gleam in her eye, she begins stroking with her closed fist, and she pumps your stiff length at a slow but steady rhythm, adding an occasional twisting motion to her wrist, corkscrewing her fingers around your cock, increasing the pleasurable shocks she was sending through your system with each pump of her hand. It was almost like she wasn’t the sweetest, loving girl in the whole world just two seconds ago.

“Jesus fucking…” You can’t even finish your sentence. Your teeth grit. Your fists clench. It’s hard to breathe. “Maybe… A little bit of a heads up next time?”

She smirks proudly, watching as you tilt your head back and let out a groan. “Where’s the fun in that?” And gently, she pushes against your chest, guides you to the wall. When your back presses against the cool tile, she presses herself against you. She leans in, hot breath on your skin, and then the feeling of her lips against your jaw almost makes you yelp. She kisses a path down your jaw, paves a way towards your neck to get cheeky: sucking, nibbling, licking the skin of your neck while she keeps the movement of her hands slow and considerate. The shower continues to run.

Do you know—she breaks contact with your skin for just a second—how fucking horny—her breath’s tickling your ear, sending shivers down your spine—you make me?—and she squeezes a little harder around your shaft, not enough for it to hurt, but enough to feel you throb in your hand and make you gulp a little. She starts going faster—jerking, fucking pumping your length in her closed fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your eyes open; your eyelids flutter shut. Your head rests against the wall, a sigh slipping past your lips. It’s filthy really—down from the way she catches you off guard to the way she makes your skin sore after she’s done feasting. Almost every interaction with her in a private space is as X-rated as this; it’s hard not to get into a situation like this around her. You know: a situation where the two of you are naked and getting really touchy and actively trying to get each other as many times as humanly possible. 

“Fuck yes baby…” you rasp, your nails starting to eat into your palms as she the sound of her hand sliding up and down your dick starts to cut above the steady stream of water. With each rise of her hand, the pad of her thumb plays with the head of your member, and when it sinks down, she twists her wrist in a screwing motion. Rinse and repeat; up and down and up and down and fuck. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

She hums in reply, and she has your earlobe between her teeth the next second, nicking you mischievously, sending small pricks of pain shooting through your system as she adjusts her grip on your cock without ever breaking her motion. Next thing you know, your tongue is inside your ear, and she’s leaning in so close that when you open your eyes, you’re practically looking over her shoulder, looking down the curve of her back that glistens with moisture and soap bubbles.

“I love this cock so fucking much,” she whispers, a bit of a hiss in her words as she takes the head of your cock between her forefinger and thumb and pinches lightly. “It stretches me out when I need it.” her fingers start to trail down your slipper shaft, letting the smoothness of her palm rub against your whole length, “fills me when I want it.” She’s milking the precum out of you, making you all leaky and squirmy as she starts pumping faster. “And it’s so fucking big that I can choke on it. You know how much I love being choked.”

She chooses that last bit to make eye contact with you, and she’s practically served you what she wants next on a silver platter. The next move is clear cut and simple; no words need be spoken. You were going to fuck her—and you mean properly fuck her—with a hand wrapped around that small throat. How you were gonna do it was still a mystery, but you figured that it’d slowly come to you, but it will definitely be related to the mirror and the sink outside and the mirror in front of it. At once, you reach over to the handle of the shower, and you turn it down to the handheld showerhead mode. Wonyoung bites her bottom lip, perverse glee painted all over her face as you use it to wash the soap off her back. She’s watching, waiting, probably drenched down there and aching to be stuffed full of cock.

She’s almost shaking with excitement as you finish washing all the soap off her body. You’d hardly consider her clean, but it won’t hurt to hop back into the shower again once you're done with her. The shower door swings open and you’re cupping her pussy, dripping wet while stumbling out with her, lips locked on hers and her hand on your cock as you push her against the sink of her hotel room. From the moment her mouth opens and let the moans pour out while you rub her clit to the moment her hand leaves your cock to cradle your face, she’s practically radiating need from the pores of her skin. You can’t help but playfully remark, “you’re such a fucking loser”, while your thumb thumps against her clit and sends pleasure tearing through her system. Weak in the knees, she holds on to you for support.

And the moans (those fucking hair-raising moans), they tumble out of those plump lips like marbles down a ramp, and they mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you start to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, doing to her what she did to you in the shower; you give her a taste of her own medicine, and the way she’s titling her head back to let you mark her freely makes it almost seem as if it’s the intended outcome of her actions. It’s like she knew that you would get back at her, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if you ever find out that she gets off on knowing that she can manipulate you in her own bratty ways—get you wrapped around her finger and have you doing all the things she wants you to do without having to tell you. Not that you have something to gripe about it, but you’re just so amused (and that’s just one word to describe how you feel) by how she goes about her ways.

“Come on,” she manages to whisper, all while you’re busy sucking on the skin just below her collarbone till it’s sore. She has a lot of pride in her voice for someone who’s quite literally quivering. “You know you want to fuck me. Give me a good creampie again.” 

You lift your head for a moment, and you take in the look of almost childlike excitement on her face as your hand finds its way to her throat. It’s perverse excitement, that lewd exhilaration of knowing that she was about to get what she wanted, and albeit a little messed up, it was pretty hot in its own way. When your fingers gently wrap themselves around her throat, you can feel every muscle in her body tense in anticipation, as if she didn’t get enough from the bedroom earlier.

“Up on the counter baby. Let me see how messy you are down there,” you whisper.

She knows what to do, and she has herself propped up on the counter and engaged in open mouth kissing. She doesn’t need you to tell her to spread her legs, and she definitely doesn’t need you to tell her how cute she sounds when your fingers slip inside of her, feeling around the mess you’ve made of her and coating your digits in her fluids. Your index and middle finger are slick with her juices when you retract them from inside her, and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“Messy as ever,” you muse, making a show of sucking her juices clean off your fingers. She’s sweet and borderline tangy—a taste that you’re accustomed to, and you will never get tired of it. She’s biting down on her lower lip, the skin wrinkling under the pressure of her front teeth as she makes a sound that’s close to a purr. 

“You made the mess.” She has her eyes locked on yours as you raise an eyebrow, prompting her to follow up after her first statement. Not that you didn’t know what was coming, but more that you wanted to gently coax it out of her, because it was so fucking hot to hear what she had to say next. “You clean it up.”

And you’re more than happy to oblige. She watches you with intent eyes as you sink down to your knees, waits with bated breath as you lower your face till the glistening, pink folds of her pussy are right in front of your face, flushed thighs around your ears. Her excitement is almost palpable, and you can hear the sharp inhale she takes when your palm finds its place on the inside of her left thigh, pushing gently to give you better access to her heat (you’re really just trying to drag out the tension if you were being completely honest with yourself). You lick your lips, lean forward till your mouth is hovering above her slit. 

“You better moan for me this time,” you tell her, and you’re making sure to make your breath hit her slick as you speak. “You have such a wonderful voice. Put it to use.”

Praise mixed with the slight hint of authority—it’s enough to make her nod furiously and implore you with doe eyes to just get on with it. With a smirk, your lips find the swollen nub at the top of her entrance. You suck on it. Hard. And almost at once, her thighs clamp around your ears and her hand is on your head, like it’s some sort of natural instinct for her when you’re eating her out. Keeping to her word, she cries out—keening, whiny and ever so fucking bratty, and it’s the the holy grail of every wet dream. Nothing in the world could bring you more satisfaction than that shrill, airy cry she lets out when the pleasure ripples through her body, and you’re just getting started. 

Your mouth opens and your tongue flattens itself against her folds, (She tastes so good. You want all of it, all of her) and you drag it up her folds, deliberately, painfully slow as you start to lick up that wet cunt. Her back arches; you can feel her struggling to keep a hold of your head; she throws her head back and lets out a gasp; her thighs clamp down a little harder around your head. The pleasure in her system builds up with the slow movement of your tongue, only rising and rising as you lick from the base of her slit to the mid section to the top. When the tip of your tongue flicks her clit, it's almost like an explosion, enough for her other hand to join its pair atop your head, enough to make her cry out in a perverse plea, “Daddy, please!”

(For the record: she’s wanted this from the moment you guys stepped into the shower. She’s willingly turned herself into some pliant little plaything, and she’s probably getting off so hard to it. Frankly, if she wanted to order you around, you’d be up to it, but this is what she prefers.)

And nothing else needs to be said really. You put your whole mouth on her—relishing the shiver that runs up from her thighs up to her body—and get right into making a wreck of her. You lick, you devour, you ravish her: working your mouth on her pussy, lapping up the juices that spill forth from flushed lips with broad, sharp strokes that make her body grow taut and her legs quiver. You tongue her clit, lick up sweet fluids, make her messy and needy and hot in all the right areas till she’s drilling her nails into the back of your scalp and pushing your face against her sweet slick. In half whispers, she tells you just how good you make her feel—oh Daddy I’m so fucking wet!—and you feel a dark part of yourself be fed by these lecherous words—Oh god oh fuck I’m gonna fucking cum if you keep… Fuck!—that leave her half-parted mouth and linger in the air, reminding you of just how wanton she is and how you’re the only person in the world she ever wants to fuck and be satisfied by. You’re hers; she’s yours—a relationship with Jang Wonyoung that any guy would kill for. 

“Daddy—” she gaps, her voice a whole octave higher than it should be as her nails turn into claws at the back of your head. “Fuck I’m cumming. Daddy I’m cumming!”

The pulsing of her pusy against your tongue grows. You continue licking, lapping. One stroke, two strokes—three. She moans, blue screens. You hazard a look up.

Nothing else matters. Only: the sight of that back arching off the marble counter, her thighs around your head trembling and quaking as her hips roll and her mouth parts in a silent scream. You’re certain that there’s blood being drawn from the back of your head, but you're more certain that she’s got enough heat in her core to melt molten iron but a lack of breath that makes her gasp for air as you lick and lick and lick your way into her. You can feel her orgasm getting closer by the second, it’s in her breathing, and in the way her hips are practically thrusting her into your mouth.

And just like the bathrobe from earlier, she comes undone—falls apart and ceases to keep control of her body. She tenses, her thighs go rigid around your ears. Her breath is caught in her throat, her eyes are closed. You stop your work, admire the way she glows as her body twitches and her face twists. Pleasure rips its way through her muscles, her nerves—splits her very being in half as the orgasm rolls through her system. She’s beautiful, and she’s a messy work of art that you’ve created. 

You rise to your feet as she winds down, and her hands leave your head to rest on the counter while her body struggles to process the aftermath of that orgasm. It’s not the first time she’s cum for the night, and it certainly won’t be the last. Her eyes open, and she instantly locs them on you as you brush back some of the hair that sticks to her sweat slicked face. You take her hand and give a gentle tug, and she slips off the counter obediently. You grip her jaw—tenderly but rough enough for her to like it—and tell her to turn around. Servile, she obeys, and in the reflection of the mirror, she watches as your hand snakes its way to her throat and grips it. You’re not squeezing, not yet. 

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy now,” you drawl, gripping your shaft in your hand and slapping it against her slit. The contact makes her shudder, but she remains silent as you place a kiss on her cheek. “Your face is gonna be so pretty when I choke you and fill you.”

“Yes Daddy.” Her reply is a whisper, a borderline drawl that’s airy and raunchy and makes your hairs stand on their ends. She’s looking at you through the mirror, plump lips slightly parted and eyes glassy. “Own me. I’m yours, forever.”

And you’re all too happy to hear that from her.

You slip into her, hilt yourself inside her in one swift motion. 

(Tight. Hot. Wet. So tight.)

She lets out a sigh, low and sonorous, harmonising with your own groan as you press her against the edge of the counter and make the fingers around her throat squeeze. The sound that leaves her throat is the sound of her sigh being truncated, and it delights that dark part of you. Being inside Wonyoung was otherworldly, as it always was, but here, in the bathroom of her hotel, on the night where you’ve agreed to seal a deal with her, she felt downright heavenly.  She squeezes her walls around you, her body thankful for the sensation of being filled by cock, if the intense tightness and slick wetness were any indication; she looks over her shoulder and bites her bottom lip. And when she has your gaze, she mouths something. 

Fill me.

The silence is deafening, but it’s all you need to hear. 

When you withdraw your glistening shaft for the first time you relish in the feel of her walls gripping you, not wanting to release you—but just as quickly they welcome you back inside as you penetrate her again. Soon you are pumping in and out of her at a slow, steady pace, her soft gasps turning quickly into long, drawn out moans as she is fucked against the marble. Her hands steady her body against the counter, her back arched in a way that lets you get a wonderful top-down view of her breasts as they roll together with her body. It’s a concerted effort, but she makes it seem effortless. 

“Be honest.” With the hand around her throat, her voice sounds a little hoarse. It’s hot. “Do you think about this, Daddy? About fucking me like a good little slut?”

“Wonyoung,” you reply, speaking through your gritted teeth. “You have no,” and you punctuate the sentence there with a deeper thrust into her tight slick, a thrust strong enough for her to let out a strained gasp. “fucking idea…”

(In the mirror, you watch as she curls her lips into her mouth and tilts her head back into your shoulder, like she’s submitting her whole being to you and letting you take liberties with her body. You take the invitation, and your free hand finds itself on one of her soft mounds and gives it a squeeze—rough but tender enough to elicit a low moan from her throat that makes your hand around it vibrate pleasantly. 

At the given moment, she’s doing all she can to make herself a pretty little fuckdoll for you, doing her best to encourage you to treat her rough, treat her like you own her. She wants nothing more but to feel the rockhard meat penetrating her tight little cunt stretch her out and fill her the way she wants, all while she’s begging and pleading obsequiously while being obsessed with your cock. It’s a lot to take in for her for sure, but she gets off on it, and you get off on it too—the fact that she’s being all needy and pleading just so she can implicitly tell you to fuck her till she’s raw and can’t fucking walk the next morning. The fact that she’s actually in control while being such a bottom. Bratty manipulation.)

“Then fuck me Daddy,” she tells you, almost pleading. “Use this pretty little pussy. I want it. I fucking need it.”

With her invitation to do more with her body, you’re more than ready to do what you’ve intended to do from the very start. You increase your tempo, and before long you are truly fucking her, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you don’t pull out more than halfway—you concentrate instead on pumping hard and fast, getting as deep as you could inside her given your standing position. She takes it well, like she was made for this. In her world, this was what fucking looked like, and it was the only definition that she was going to live with and she’d take it to the grave. She indulges in the roughness, the almost animal-like way your cock fills her again and again and again, all while she encourages you with cries and moans and sighs that are music to your ears. 

And a notion hits you: she’s going to make you fuck her till she’s the only thing you can possibly think about. She’s going to draw out every single primal urge within you, make you want her like she’s some form of drug and you’re the abuser, and then she’s going to get exactly what she wants—your cum in her pussy. You can’t let her win like that, you can’t. You can tell that to yourself now, but you’re not sure if you can remember it later, not when she practically reeks of the strongest possible sillage of sex. 

Her pussy throbs around you, pulse strong and just a beat behind your thrusts as you thrust yourself in and out of her slick walls, filling her up and drawing yourself out before filling her up yet again. Pure filth spills from her mouth, expletives, sordid sighs and cries and any sound or word that comes to mind. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and from the mirror you enjoy the way she’s almost writhing in against the counter. Ample breasts bounce with each thrust that shocks her body, and it’s almost hypnotic if it weren’t for the fact that that pretty face was stealing the show. The face that was marvelled, the face that was the source of jealousy, the face that was on the face of so many magazines and posters and adored by millions, if not billions—scrunched up, improper and so fucking lewd that it looked like it belonged in a porno instead of an idols face, and you take pleasure in the fact that your cock is ruining the face of a princess, turning her dissolute and so fucking needy that she was as good as a fan begging her for an autograph. This side of her was reserved for you, and only you—her duality is reserved for your eyes only. 

Her body is slick with sweat, rubbing against your own sweaty torso while her body rolls together with your thrusts. “Fuck—” you’re saying, but it comes out as more of a growl than anything given how hard yur teeth are clenching. Your fingers squeeze tighter around her throat. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her pussy to clench even tighter around you—and the added tightness brings succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you’re going insane. You probably are at this rate. “This pussy. It’s so fucking good baby.”

Her reply is a strained gasp, but you get the gist of what she wants to say. She wants, so badly, to tell you how good your cock is making her feel, how well it fucks her, how well it fills her and stretches her and how it’s her favourite thing in the whole world. The squelch of your cock filling her pussy is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the smacking of skin against skin as you press more of your weight against her, pushing her a little more into the corner of the counter and a little more over the line of pathetic. She moans in response to your actions, and it’s telling you: fuck. Harder. It’s better when it hurts. 

And you can feel her juices leaking down the back of her thighs, wetting your crotch and making the smack of skin against skin louder than ever, almost as if it was an announcement: I’m being fucked like a good little slut and I love it. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to you,and for clarity, it’s something along the lines of turning you absolutely feral with her moans and the divine tightness of her pussy that makes you want to cum on the spot. Okay,maybe she is cognizant of how crazy she makes you when you fuck her, but you barely have the capacity to think, let alone rationalise wether thai girl in your arms that your chocking and fucking feel smug in knowing that she’s driving you insane. 

Oh and she loves it when you play with her tits. The way you fondle them is almost aggressive. Scratch that—it’s really fucking aggressive. You’re slapping her tits, leaving red marks all over the milky white skin and pinching and twisting the stiff nubs atop her breasts, all while she mewls and cries out in that strained voice that makes you throb even harder inside of her wet walls and makes you grit your teeth like your a dog waiting to chew on a bone. 

“D-Daddy,” she pushes out, past the fingers that close her airways and past her groans and moans and sighs. “Harder.” And your thrusts are starting to cut her off, but she has more to say. When it comes out, each word that she spits out is punctuated by a thrust of cock into her pussy, and it’s the hottest thing you’ll ever hear. 

Fuck.

You thrust deep inside her. 

Me.

Your cock drives itself deep into her, slicking itself with her juices.

Harder.

And if words could linger in the air, hers certainly would. 

You fuck her hard, and fast, and deep—hammering her into the counter, nailing her defenseless pussy with a pace that you would have thought was rough and callous were it not for the fact you knew this was exactly how she wanted it. All she can do is hang on, grasp onto the counter with a knuckle-white grip with her hands as you take your liberties with her body, fucking her as hard as you can, as deeply as she can take it. The cups on the counter shake, the toothbrush inside one of them shaking under the force. It’s loud,  but you hear none of it. You hear only the sharp sighs of pleasure that leave Wonyoung’s lips, and the wet slap slap slap of your crotch as it hammers her cunt again and again and again, your cock drilling her, pounding her, making her yours if you weren’t already doing that.

It takes a little long, but the haze of lust parts for a moment for you to realise that you're getting closer and closer to getting what she wants out of you. While the thought of burying yourself inside of that quivering, pulsing pussy to let it milk every last drop of cum from you is ever so enticing, that small part of you that wants to own her pushes you to fight against the urges. Not that there’s any harm in giving her what she wants, but it’s just that you don’t want to reward her bratty, manipulative tactics. She knew for a fact that she could tie you up and ride you over and over till you were dry—she’d done it before. But instead, she’s chosen to fulfil her needs in a less direct manner, maybe for fun or maybe just because she felt like it. 

“Yes,” Wonyoung hisses, spit flying into the mirror and her palms slipping on the counter. “Just like this Daddy.” And she’s making sure to make eye contact with you through the mirror, letting her eyes do most of the talking. If anyone’s curious, the look she gives you is saying, I’m your good little slut. Fuck me. Use me. Fill me. Please, and it's nothing short of hot and tethering far over the line of lewd. At this point, neither of you are in a state where you're capable of coherent thought, nor are you capable of thinking about anything else except each other’s bodies and the wet, lewd squelching of cock filling Wonyoung’s pussy. It goes on and on and on, a cycle of your hips hammering the back of her legs and your cock spearing deep into her cunt.  She takes it so well, drinking you in hungrily, coiling around your shaft like a snake as if it was begging for you to stay in her forever. The sight is enough to make your balls tingle and your toes curl, and your hand around Wonyoung's throat tightens to the point where the only thing that can leave her lips is a groan as her airflow is reduced. 

She’s tighter, hotter, wetter. Her pussy fits you like a glove, moulding around your cock as it pumps in and out of her at a pace that you had no idea you were capable of. The hand around her neck is nothing but an outlet of pleasure for you, and she’s loving it. “Such a good girl,” you mutter, watching from the mirror as her mouth slacks and opens while she’s being pumped full of cock. “You were made to take Daddy’s cock, weren’t you?”

Her equivalent of a yes is a sharp, strained groan—an amalgamation of phonics and whatever sounds the lack of air flowing to her throat permits her to make. She’s so fucking messy down there, and your cock is sliding in and out of her with ease, aided by her slick juices that coat your shaft and let it disappear and reappear from between her legs with ease. The motion is almost graceful if it weren’t for the fact that it was a sordid one, and you take a moment to admire the way your shaft glistens in the light of the bathroom while you fuck her the way she wants it: rough, hard and tethering over the edge of callous. If it weren’t for the hand around her throat, she’d be making herself hoarse with all the moaning she’d be doing.

And the hand around her throat is bringing her so much pleasure, if the way her pussy squeezes around you when you choke her is any indication. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked being choked. While she didn’t like gagging on your cock, she sure as hell loved it when your fingers clasped around the muscles and made her gasp. She liked the sensation of being deprived of air, be it when she was riding or when she has her kness buried into her shoulders and was being fucked into the bed like a slut. You were always afraid of hurting her, but when she shots you that look, the one that says, come on, you can do better, you know that she’s getting exactly what she wants, just the way she likes it. It was just a matter of how hard you squeeze around her throat before she either cums or passes out, though the latter has rarely happened before the former.

“Daddy!” she chokes, and you know exactly what she’s about to say next. So you release her throat from her grasp, bunch a lock of her hair in your closed fist and you pull back. Her eyes squeeze themselves shut. Her back arches deliciously, her voice now free to finish shat she’s aching to announce. “I’m fucking…”

You never expect her to finish her sentence. Wonyoung’s eyes open, and a gasp leaves her open lips. Her walls, already vice-like, tighten so hard around you that you think you might come there and then. You feel how close she is. 

“Fucking cum for me, Wonyoung. Cum around my cock like a good little slut.”

Wonyoung does as she is told—and the quivering, trembling orgasm she experiences is almost frightening in the way it overwhelms her body, turning her into a wet, hot mess. Her pussy tightens and pulsates, her fingers claw against the marble counter, and her entire lower body shakes violently, as though she had lost control of her nerves and muscles. For a few beautiful seconds she is utterly overwhelmed by the sensations, until finally she slumps forward in your grasp, breathing heavily. 

It's good. It's so good, but it's not quite enough to get you to your finish. Not yet.

(And if anyone’s asking: it’s not that the sex isn’t good. It’s mind blowing, amazing, and whatever word that can be used to describe “fucking incredible”.  She’s hot, so tight and fucking soaked down there. You’re horny, throbbing and on the verge of filling her full of your seed. But you’ve said it before and you’ll say it again—you’re not rewarding bratty manipulation. As tempting as it would have been to simply pound her from behind until you gave her needy pussy the load of semen she so desperately wanted, you knew that there was something even better that you could do.)

You pull out of Wonyoung, your shaft glistening under the hotel light. Her eyes are wide with shock as you withdraw yourself from her body, pulling her away from the counter—but only enough to have her lean back against you and not stand up completely. Her mouth opens to say something, but she's interrupted when you turn her face to you and kiss her. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, your tongue slipping into her mouth and massaging her own, lapping at the roof of her mouth as her tongue swirled around your own. You bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention. When her eyes flutter open, you whisper, "I'm not finished."

She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You turn her around, push down gently on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Wonyoung on her knees with her pretty little face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you finally bury yourself inside and cum down her throat, but that would just be a repeat telecast of every other night with her. Spice things up; give her the liberty of creativity with your cock. 

And of course, Wonyoung perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth. Grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other, Wonyoung quickly launches into a hard and fast blowjob, taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with a rapid pace while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion, just like she did in the shower. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. Your hand finds a clump of her sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. No, you weren’t going to push her head down onto your cock; you had to give her the space to work on her craft. 

And of course, she exceeds every expectation out there. Your eyes shut involuntarily, your brain unable to handle any sensations beyond the wet, hot cavern of Wonyoung’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft with tight, soft lips. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. With each subsequent entry her tongue becomes more adventurous, beginning with quick swipes left and right on your shaft with each entry and ending each exit with a swirl of the tip around the head of your cock. While she tastes herself on your cock, letting her juices mix with saliva, her hands work in perfect concert with her mouth, one joining her lips at your shaft and pumping up and down, a twisting motion to her wrist while her free hand works gently with your dangling balls, fondling them with considerate fingers. She plays with them softly yet hastily, her fingertips working their magic between the sacs with expert attention.

You are content to stand there with your eyes shut, simply enjoying the feel of your cock pumping in and out of her mouth at a fervent pace, but a small part of you knew that you had to see it happening in order to truly believe it was all real—and so with a not insignificant amount of self-control, you force eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Black locks bob up and down frantically above your cock, doe-like eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you as her cheeks hollow and her jaw unhinges even more to accommodate your length. 

It all becomes too much, and it hits you all at once—having her pump your shaft in the shower, eating her out then fucking her—and you quickly find yourself nearing that inevitable peak.

“Fuck, Wony—” is all you manage to say before your orgasm overtakes your world.

Wonyoung releases your cock from her mouth a split second before you erupt, shooting long, thick strands of hot semen all over her pretty little face. Her face glazes over in pleasure and you are all too happy to watch as strand after strand of cum lands on her cheeks, her pretty little nose, and finally her open mouth and jaw. You watch, through half-lidded eyes drunk with pleasure, as the thick streams of cum flow down her face, dripping onto her upper chest and those perfect breasts of hers. Her face is flushed and her mouth open, as though she herself was on the verge of orgasm (she probably was, and she was going to make it your problem as soon as she got your cum off her face).

You want to remember the way she wipes your cum off her face with the back of her hand, how she licks it all up like a cat licking its own paw before moving to clean the stray strands of cum off the tip and sides of your cock. You want to remember how she rises so gracefully even though she was a sweaty mess, and how she gently takes your hand and guides you back into the shower for another clean up.   

And back under warm water, you want to remember how she kisses you, and how she whispers, “next time, I want that big load in my pussy.”

*

“What?”

And it’s hard to meet Wonyoung’s eyes as you set down the papers from the doctor. You can feel her confusion, her frustration, her rage from across the dining table in your apartment. It isn’t pretty. Nothing about this situation is. 

“It’s a neurological disease,” you tell her, all while you’re looking at the MRI that’s in the middle of the table. You’re really just regurgitating what the doctor told you—it’s the only thing you have the capacity to do right now. “They ran their tests. They told me what I suspected. I’m losing my ability to read and write, to understand language. In 2 years—give or take —I won’t be able to express my thoughts. I’ll be spouting gibberish. What people say, what I see — on pages, street signs, everywhere — they’ll all be unintelligible to me.” She’s silent, and it unnerves you in every way possible. You haven’t even gotten to the worst part of it all. “My mental competence will deteriorate. I’ll have to live off a tube cause I’ll forget how to eat and drink. Dementia will follow shortly.”  

Now would be a great time for her to say something, anything to break this silence. But she is silent, unmoving and reticent in her seat from across you. You have no choice but to gulp and deliver, in your personal opinion, the worst part of it all, “By the time I forget how to breathe I… I would’ve lost all my memories by then.”

She chooses the moment after the last word leaves your mouth to pick up the MRI scan and look at it. 

“So… Everything we’ve built up till now will just… Disappear?” she whispers. She sounds hurt, scared and everything in between. You bite your lower lip. 

“Yes.” There’s no point sugarcoating it, it’s inevitable anyway. Face it now, sulk later… You think that’s the best way to deal with this piece of news. You hope that the matter-of-fact tone of voice that you’ve chosen doesn't betray how frightened you are by the prospect of losing everything you know. “We can’t stop it. It’s in my genes.”

She sets down the scan, and when you look up, you see the tears flowing down her cheeks and it makes you want to cry as well.

She stands up, shoulders her handbag and walks towards the front door. 

“Where are you—” you begin. “I’m going somewhere else to think,” she interjects. 

When she slams the door behind her, you feel like you’ve let her down in so many ways. There’s a burning in your chest that you can’t describe. The first hot tear rolls down your cheek, and you let the rest that well in your eyes flow down without resistance. 

You don’t want to remember what it feels like to be helpless—the emptiness, the rage, the sadness, the confusion is all so overwhelming. But you figure that you’ll have to feel it again at some point down the road. 

Might as well figure out how to cope with it now, when Wonyoung isn't there and you're all alone with your thoughts.

*

When you awaken later that night in your bed in the apartment, it takes you a few moments to determine whether the soft, slim body climbing atop you is real or part of some wonderful dream—but the familiar warmth of your girlfriend, and the soft, pleasant smell of her hair, convinces you that this was all real.

Wonyoung places soft kisses on your neck and jawline, before moving to your mouth and kissing your lips softly. You are still only half awake, but your senses and instincts take over, and you find your mouth welcoming her kiss and returning it with one of your own, your hands moving to either side of her hips and finding, to your surprise, that there was only bare skin there and no clothing.

“Wony…” you begin, as she deepens her kiss, her lips pressing more firmly against yours.

“Shhh,” she answers, “please. I need this. I need you, right now. Please.”

She’s suddenly reappeared after walking out on you, and you have yet to process the slew of emotions that have come your way. Part of you wants to stop her, to talk things out with her so that you could: a) figure out if she was still mad at you and; b) verify that she wasn’t drunk. But the part of you that formed the majority of your conscience knew that she needed comfort as much as you did, and that she needed something to assuage her and make her feel like everything would turn out alright. So you find yourself relaxing underneath her, letting her scent fill your nostrils as her tongue dances with yours.

She straddles you, and your hands begin to run up her naked body, up from her slim thighs to her chest where the ample mounds sat proudly, her nipples erect and stiff. She isn’t wearing any underwear, and your fingers brushing against the slick of her pussy is enough to verify that for you. She’s naked atop of you, kissing you like you just confessed your love to her or like you’re about to go on some mission and never return. It’s not lustful, but it’s full off passion and aims to soothe not stir. 

She breaks the kiss. Her eyes flutter open. In the dark that is pierced by the street lights of the city, you want to remember the way her eyes glimmer and shimmer as she breathes heavily. There’s no alcohol on her breath, and from the way she’s cradling your face, you can infer that she’s not mad at you in the slightest. 

“You okay?” she whispers, and her tone is soft and warm, like that time she spoke in the shower of her hotel about signing that contract with her company so that the two of you could officially start dating. It’s been some time after that, but you still hang on to the way her words made their way to your heart. “I didn’t mean to startle you if I did.”

You respond by nodding, and it’s enough to convey: I’m alright. You brush away the hair that falls in front of her eyes, and you really want to remember how silky smooth her hair feels in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” you ask her, making sure to keep your tone as warm as her own. She blinks, goes silent for a moment, then answers, “I’m making amends.”

She holds your gaze, you hold hers. The staring contest ends when you gently pull her in for another kiss, and you want to remember how she softly moans into your mouth while her thumb, smooth and tender, caresses your cheek.

When the kiss breaks again, her hands snake their way down to your sweats. You assist her in removing your shorts—a very clumsy affair: tangled hands and arms and lots of chuckling. But your cock does finally spring out from your boxers, the ones that have been discarded in the corner of the bed, together with her clothes. When it’s all done, you have the pleasure of witnessing the sight of her slim frame straddling you once more, long legs surrounding you on either side of your thighs while she peppers kisses on your chest. 

“I’m sorry I left you to deal with… Everything. Alone.”  she begins, “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that… I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t angry”

And from your lying position, you lift a hand to cup her cheek. “We can talk later.”

She gets the message, but bends down and kisses you nonetheless. You’d probably have trouble falling asleep later in the night, and she’d wake up and you’d have this same conversation again. You’d rather have it later than now, not when the wound is still fresh.

Wonyoung lets a soft smile play on her lips. You are slightly aware of her raising her hips, her right hand finding its way between your bodies to grasp your wet, erect shaft, and line it up with her entrance. She breaks the kiss for the third time that night, searches your eyes for approval to continue with this. Was it make up sex? You didn;t know if it was for sure, but it sure as hell felt like it. What you do no for certain is: you’d like to experience this now, and you want to etch this in your memory for as long as you can before it fades with the rest of your mind. 

You give her the slightest of nods, and you feel the head of your cock press against her wet, tight opening. Slowly, carefully, Wonyoung lowers herself down onto your shaft, your cockhead parting her tight lips to impale her pussy. She gasps loudly as she impales herself fully, and she opens her eyes slightly to match your gaze. You brush stray locks of hair away to reveal her face fully, and you bring her mouth back to yours to kiss her deeply. As your tongues duel, she begins to raise her hips, drawing your shaft out of her body before lowering it once more, and soon she has found a soft, slow rhythm as she rides you, grinding her warm, tight body against yours. 

She raises herself upright and lets her hands rest on top of your chest. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes closed, lips slightly parted and the wisp of a smile on her lips as she rocks her hips. From where you lie, you watch as Wonyoung takes you in and out of her body with soft grinding motions, riding you slowly, enjoying every entry and exit of your shaft as it fills her over and over in slow, tender strokes that make her shiver. You watch as your shaft appears for a split second or so before driving back into her, each disappearance accompanied by a soft spike of pleasure. As always, she’s letting moans and sighs and gasps tumble freely from half-parted lips as she takes you in and out of her slowly, rocking her hips with innate grace and elegance. All you do is let your hands rest on her thighs, moaning softly to encourage her as she rides you lovingly, tenderly, a far cry from what you’re used to when it comes down to sex with Jang Wonyoung. 

Through the night, your cock glides in and out of that perfect pussy, elicits moans and gasp and sighs and cute little cusses when you hilt yourself deep inside of her and tug a little at her hair. Her hands were always active, sometimes caressing your chest, sometimes on your jaw, sometimes behind your head as she snaked an arm behind your head to keep you locked where you were just so she could sneak in a kiss. You came in her mouth, her ass, her pussy. She came on your fingers, your cock, your mouth. She cussed a lot, almost passed out once or twice. You cussed a lot two, and you caught her when she almost rolled off the bed (the two of you laughed for a minute about that situation before you ended up spooning on the floor, her leg in the air and your cock pumping in and out of her while she had your back to you and your face in her right hand). 

Bottom line: it was wonderful, wonderful make up sex that ended with both of you sweaty and panting and wanting more from each other but you guys just don’t have that energy to keep going. It was a novelty for both of you, and you wanted to remember just how special she could make you feel, even in the impurest of acts. 

*

The flash of the polaroid camera is almost blinding, but you power through and keep your eyes open. Like a child that’s seeing snow for the first time, Jang Wonyoung watches excitedly as the polaroid emerges from the slot in the camera, and she’s all too eager to grab it and lay it face down on the coffee table in your apartment.

“I thought you’re supposed to shake it?” you ask, watch as she fiddles with the camera for a little bit before she snaps a selfie with her newest purchase. She gives you a look that basically translates to, “uh, are you dumb?” and waits for the next polaroid to emerge from the slot before she launches into her lecture. 

“Shaking the polaroid to make it develop faster is a myth,” the way she sounds so official and everything is so cute. You can’t help but smile a little as she sets the other polaroid down. “It shifts the pigments and blurs the photo, but an idiot like you would need a genius like me to tell that to you.”

The remark is clearly meant to be biting, but it’s nothing short of hilarious to you. “When did you become a camera nerd?”

“Ever since I got this,” she lifts the polaroid camera up and hits you with that you’re on camera smile. “Maybe I should do an ad for this brand. Increase their sales, you know?”

She leaves you to think on that and retrieves the first polaroid she took: a picture of you and her on the couch of your apartment. Not the grandest first photo, but hey, a memory is a memory, and you really are just focusing on cherishing those at the moment. As she leaves the couch to clip the polaroid onto the photo rack (a bunch of metal wires on a metal frame with wooden clips to hold photos) she just set up, you grab your journal next to you and flip it to the page you wrote on a few hours before. With your pen (that you now carry around just about everywhere with your journal), you scribble down a new part of today that you want to remember. It was her idea to journal down everything you wanted to remember. 

The entry goes right under the one about Wonyoung’s new camera.

She looks so happy with that new camera. Bet she’s going to go back to the dorm and show it off to all of her members because she’s a fucking child. I hope that…

And you trail off in your writing, What you wanted to say was just on the tip of your tongue just a second ago. Why can’t you remember it? It was literally just in your head a minute ago…

No. 

You shut the journal. It makes a soft yet substantial thud as the leather cover slaps against pages. You place your pen in your pocket, set the journal back down on the couch and stand up to walk towards your girlfriend, who is currently adjusting the angle that the wooden clip holds the polaroid at. She senses you walking up to her, steps aside and makes a space for you to watch her struggle. You would offer help, but you know that it removes half the fun for her when you do something for her. 

She fiddles around a little more, makes a couple of grunting sounds under her breath, curses a little, and next thing you know, she exclaims, “tada!” while pointing at the first occupant of the photo rack. You roll your eyes, throw an arm over her shoulder and look at the slightly blurry photo within the white frame. 

“With the camera,” she tells you, her tone soft and warm like… Like… Fuck. “I hope that we can help our memories live on. Sounds pretty deep huh?”

You can’t help but chuckle in agreement. You take a moment to stare at the two faces that occupy the space in the polaroid, and you hope to God that they will never, ever look foreign to you. It’s a futile prayer, you know, but a glass-half-full mentality is the best chance you have at not spiralling out of control. 

Wonyoung lays her head on your shoulder, silent and all sentimental as she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She lets out a shuddering sigh, and you know that she’s trying not to cry, cause in this situation she’s the one that will end up hurt at the end of it all. You’ll forget the pain of forgetting; she’ll remember the pain of being forgotten. It sucks, but it’s just the way it is. You hug her, hold her close and stroke her hair. You don’t want to forget what she means to you, what you mean to her.

How many more polaroids left till it all ceases to matter?

____________________

Hello! Hope you guys enjoyed this fic. I'm a bit rusty so this one might be a bit funny, but hopefully the style of storytelling I chose didn't fuck you up too bad. Non-linear storytelling will be the death of me. Also: I kinda didn't edit this one too much. My bad hehe.

This was really more of a PSA to cherish the ones you hold close to you, because you never know when they will just disappear. Love the people close to you, cherish them forever.

~Lots of love Nichuuu

[nichuuu]

Lemon.

Word count: 13k+

You decide that you don’t quite like Balls (get your head out of the gutter).

Music: odd. Yes, it’s a fancy mansion—5 floors, the works… But you don’t know how to feel about the sole pianist in the centre of the foyer, the one that’s playing some classical piece that has the people around you murmuring about his technique and sound (whatever the hell either of those meant).

People: you don’t know a good half of them. Scratch that—it’s a sea of strangers

Drinks: strong, way too fucking strong for your liking. The drinks are free of charge, and the bartender clearly didn’t shake this Pina Colada well, but you have to drink it if you want to even try and get into the mood of the party. Around you, men in posh suits and women in flamboyant dresses skirt each other, talk to each other with placid smiles—hoodwinking each other with their highfalutin laughs and smiles to establish connections that probably won’t matter in a couple of days. The only person you’ve talked to tonight is the bartender, and that was just to order your drink. 

This whole place stinks of capitalism, and you feel out of place in your cheaper suit and dress shoes. On your right, some guy is talking about how bitcoin and blockchain will make a grand return, some lady is gossiping about the latest Gucci handbag on your left. In front of you, a man and a woman are clearly flirting with each other, bashful grins on their faces as they hold their fancy drinks in their hands and talk about god knows what. You’re wondering if you should ask for a straw from the bartender just to dip your toes in social interaction.

Wonder why Cinderella was so hot on attending a Ball, thing seems pretty bland to me, you’re thinking, watching the tip of the ice that was shaped like an iceberg melt away and sink beneath the surface of your margarita. Some guy in a tux comes by, orders two glasses of Prosecco—one for him, one for the woman next to him. He’s talking loudly, disrupting your peace and quiet. Your solution: move seats.

From a distance—two chairs away from your original seat—you watch as he takes the two glasses from the hands of the bartender, hands one to the woman, then clinks his glass with hers. He’s preternaturally genteel, and you’d know because you recognised him as the guy that got slapped at the start of this whole thing because he grabbed the ass of someone’s wife. Impropriety, but it’s the behaviour of the newfangled rich. 

Now he’s bragging about his car. Nissan GTR fitted with this engine, this ventilation, blah, blah… Whatever it is he’s saying, the woman’s having none of it. You’re no psychologist, but you can tell that she wants to get out of a conversation; her smile is awfully sweet, but you can see that she’s silently importuring him to shut his trap—her eyes give it all away. You pity her, silently sending her your best wishes as the man grabs her by the arm and leads her back into the sea of people. Personally, you’d be screaming if you were in her shoes.

(Off to your left, just at the edge of your vision, you see your boss talking to a woman. She’s getting touchy, really touchy and really flirty; her hand’s on his thigh, fuck me eyes out to play and on full display—A trite tactic used by these types of women to get lucky with a rich man at these type of events. Luckily for her, your boss is quick to bite on to such bait. God bless them both.)

For the record: you’ve never really enjoyed Balls or anything of the ilk, because quite frankly speaking, you’d much rather burrow up in your bed at home and binge Kimini ni Todoke till you were giggling and squealing like a little schoolgirl. Maybe I’m still young, I’ll learn to like these types of events later on, you tell yourself, I’ll need connections at some point, maybe I should start—

A sickly sweet fragrance crawls up your nostrils, truncating all thought. Perfume, you’re quick to identify, and then you’re aware of the presence of someone on your right. Your grip on your glass grows tighter in the slightest; you’re praying—Please just be ordering a drink, please be ordering a drink.

Frankly, you don’t know why you’d ever think anyone would talk to you, an unimportant cog that just tagged along with his boss because he had nothing better to do. Irrational fears are really a funny thing.

Sharp, clear, resonant—three words that came to mind when you heard the voice of the person next to you, the voice that delivered the simplest of orders: Yamazaki. I want it neat. 

Your first thought is, Damn… Neat Whisky? Someone’s having a horrible night, as you turn your face away from her (if you couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t be able to see you, right?). And just as you’re wondering if she’s gonna take her drink and leave, your question is answered by the soft creak and even softer rustle of shifting fabric from your right. You bristle.

The glass makes a sound against the wood as it’s gently placed down on the table.

(Now would be an excellent time for a subtitle to come in, one that states in square brackets: Awkward silence.)

You can hear her swirling the liquid around in her glass. Fuck, now this is awkward… You’re thinking, and then you’re wondering if you should just get up and leave, absquatulate, skedaddle—any word that can convey the act of disappearing in an instant—right out of there. But as you start to slide your butt off the chair, that voice rings out once more.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

She doesn’t know how her simple sentence has caged you in the most challenging position (to you at least). Now you’re sliding your ass back into the bar stool and you turn and face her—

(Now that you’re looking at her, your second thought about her comes in: God, she’s beautiful. Dark brown hair that falls just past her shoulders like velvet curtains, soft yet somehow piercing eyes, a smile that makes you feel fuzzy all over—probably one of the most attractive women you’ll ever meet. She’s the woman from earlier, the woman that you saw smiling and nodding placidly to that guy who got her the Prosecco. She must’ve found a way to slip away, and she has your full respect for that.)

—and you find that you’re drumming your nails against the base of your glass.

“Shy, huh?” she’s throwing out a guess, watching as the Whisky in her glass slowly swirls to a stop inside the chilled glass. “It’s been a while since I met a shy man. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

You shift in the stool, and your first instinct is to ask her if you two had met before. It’s only after that last syllable leaves your mouth that you realise how stupid of a question it is. You don’t know her, and judging by the fact that she hasn’t called you by your name: she doesn’t know you either. You let her decide whether to oust you as a fool as she scans you up and down.

(Update on your boss and that woman: She’s kissing him now, full on making out. It’s an unsettling sight to behold, and you attribute your queasiness to the fact that they’ve somehow found they’re way behind the woman you're talking to. Your boss doesn't see you; you choose not to see him. God bless them both.)

“Well… Considering that you don’t look the least bit familiar,” she sets the glass down, “and that you haven’t been introduced to me like some product by a crusty, old man… I think it’s safe to say that we’re.”

Now her eyes are on your drink. What are you drinking this fine night? She’s asking, using her chin to gesture towards your Pina Colada. You tell her exactly what it is, and she cringes slightly. They say Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, I say it doesn’t belong fucking anywhere. Oust it as a fruit! she’s telling you, making sure to add a little more emphasis on the word “oust” as she couches her firm belief, something you find rather hilarious considering that it’s your first meeting with her. She sips the Whisky, grimaces a bit, then sets the glass back down to say, we skipped past a lot of formalities, didn’t we?

And here comes the part of talking to strangers that you’re the most comfortable with—Introductions. You think that it is safe to assume that just about anyone would find saying hello and telling someone your occupation much easier than holding up a conversation, what more with a beautiful woman like her. You give her your name, tell her what you do for a living, the usual stuff. She listens, the gleam in her eyes that comes when you’re done talking ever so enigmatic and cryptic. 

“Lawyer huh?” She’s playing with her glass again, “considering were we are right now, I really shouldn’t be this surprised… Yet I am. Little shy for a guy dealing clients on the daily, no?”

Somehow, by the grace of some supernatural force (you call it alcohol), you crack your first joke of the night—I know. The most I ever talked is in court—and you’re relieved that she’s kind enough to humour you (or maybe she really does find it funny. You’ll never know), and gives you an elegant chortle, one that makes your hair stand at their ends as your third thought about her goes through your mind: even her laugh is attractive. Is there anything wrong with this woman? 

And when she tells you her name, you realise why she seems to be exuding this inexplicable aura; Minatozaki Sana, pleasure to meet you, she introduces herself with a generous amount of pizzaz. You’re scanning her up and down at this point, and only now do you take in the expensive dress that dons her slender frame, the same dress that’s accompanied by a glimmering necklace and earrings, 3 rings on her middle, index and ring finger respectively.

“You’re…” you begin.

“The host’s daughter? Yes.”

Now you’re at a loss for words. Well uh… It’s an honour to meet you, is what you plan on saying, but it comes out as a simple, more blunt manner: Oh damn. Sana’s giggling to herself, swirling her Whisky as she watches you struggle to find things to say to her.

“I take it that you don’t come around here often?” she asks. When you raise an eyebrow, she explains how her father hosts a Ball like this every other month to try and find her a “suitor”. Apparently, 27 years old is “too old”  to still be single, so my Dad just gets a bunch of men together and parades me around, she’s carping. The glimmering chandeliers, the array of drinks and food, the vanity of all these people; the dazzling marble floor, the glass sculptures, the embroidered tablecloths; this event, in all its glory and prestige, is all about her. 

Christ, you’re thinking to yourself, money really gets you to places, huh? 

Now she’s explaining how some of the people here are frequent visitors. Mothers and their sons, fathers and their sons, young business men, old business men, middle aged businessman; whoever can afford to come to this lavish Ball—all of them frequent this mansion like moths to a flame, all looking for a chance to ingratiate with the Minatozakis so that maybe, just maybe, they get a chance to get Sana’s hand in marriage. It’s a glorified yet obsolete form of Tinder really.

(Your boss is nowhere in sight now, and you’re pretty sure that the two of them have gone off somewhere to get it on. Maybe this event isn’t just about Sana, it’s about finding a rich person that can spoil you for the rest of your life too. God bless everyone here.)

“So what brings a man like yourself here this fine night?” She seems oddly interested in you (and also very hot on using this fine night as well apparently). You give her the truth that carries your watered down emotions in your tone—My boss asked me to tag along. Apparently all attendees were to bring a male plus one.

Sana chuckles, but it’s one of bitterness.

“So Dad’s reverted to these tactics huh?” you hear her whisper before taking an alarming large gulp of Whisky. She swallows, then sighs, “wonder what he’ll do next… Maybe an arranged marriage?”

Past the frustration and utter disappointment, there’s amusement in her voice. It tells you: if I could, I’d kill my Dad. It’s more of an inference from your end than a message that you’re sure that she’s trying to imply. You always had a bad habit of reading between the lines—probably picked it up from your job.

Sana downs the rest of the Whisky in a flash, wincing as the alcohol burns her throat. She scratches her nose, then turns to you and asks, “say, you don’t look like you want to be here, and neither do I.”

Behind you, you can hear the voice of a man approaching. He’s talking to someone—my daughter should like you very much, you seem like a man that suits her taste—and Sana bristles. Her father, you deduce, noting the way that the woman before you is searching around for an exit. Then you blink, and in that split second, she grabs your hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Just like that, you’re running through a crowd of people, spewing a million-and-one apologies as you jostle your way through the crowd, in tow behind a woman you've known for a grand total of 5 minutes. 

A very unlikely start to a romance really.

*

Now the gears in your head are whirring, your stomach’s churning—there’s no other way to describe how you feel when Sana’s looking at you like that from across the table: small smile, a slight gleam behind those eyes, hand under her chin and fingers tapping against her cheek… She’s got you in perdition just with a look. You’re a guy of relatively taciturn nature, and the last time you went on a date was in university. That date went horribly, and now you’re wondering if this one was gonna go up in flames as well. Your brain urges you to say something to her, but your mouth seems to be sewn shut. 

On the other hand, Sana’s poised as ever. “What’s wrong?” she’s cocking her head and pouting slightly, “nervous?”

You're not ashamed to admit that you indeed are, and that you’ve never really gone out on dates in a long time. Sana seems tickled by this—It’s been a while since I’ve seen a shy man. I like it, she tells you—and assures you that she won’t bite. In fact, she’s glad that you’re quiet and not rambling off about some business venture. She tells you, I don’t recall the last time I’ve been with a guy like you, though I’d appreciate it if you assist me in starting some conversation, and you’re slightly ashamed of your reticence. 

There’s a gleam in her eyes when you start asking her some questions on her personal life, and she finds it congenial to gesticulate in a moderate manner as she answers your questions. Her outgoing nature leaves you flummoxed, and there’s barely enough space in your brain to remember everything she tells you about herself. Born in Osaka, likes yoghurt smoothies, likes to take walks in the park, likes this, likes that… You vaguely remember her telling you this on the night that the two of you escaped that event.

(To jog your own memory: She took you to the garden, where the two of you spent the rest of the night strolling amongst shrubs and other greenery that thrived in Spring. The Pina Colada in your system allowed you to hold a conversation, one that lasted long enough for her to take a liking to you. At the end of it all, she gets your number, you get her’s, and a date’s been settled in some french restaurant she patronises.)

“Now, I don’t expect you to remember all of this,” she’s watching the wine leave streaks against the glass, “but if you do, I believe you're entitled to some extra points.” 

“Points?” you’re keen on inquiring, “we’re keeping a scoreboard?”

Sana simply smiles. For asking that question, minus 2 from you, is her answer—not a very good one if you were to be blunt. You can’t suppress a chuckle as you take a sip from your own wine.

Unwittingly, Sana has eased you into her presence. It suddenly feels like you’ve known her forever (if forever meant 2 weeks that is).

A smooth start to a relationship if you do say so yourself.

*

“Sana, there’s people out there.”

“I know.”

“They might hear us.”

“I know.”

“We could get caught.”

“We won’t.”

It’s the confidence in her voice that irks you really. The lack of hesitance combined with the sheer lack of shame towards the fact that anyone outside the changing room in this damn Prada store could easily raise a phone over the door and start recording. It’s not that she’s not cognizant of this, but more of the fact that she doesn’t give two shits if someone captures a video of her blowing you in this dressing room. Shameless, aplomb, obstinate, are the three words that come to mind when dealing with Sana at the given moment, but there’s no energy in you to convey this to her, not when she wraps her lips around your cock. The outfits that she chose remain untouched behind her, fabrics still in light while the person that chose them remains active on her knees. 

(Almost a year. Almost a year the two of you have been dating. You thought you’d learned all there is to know about her, yet she’s hitting you with new facts and surprises every day, left, right, and centre. There are probably many more things that you have yet to figure out, but they’ll all come to light in due time.)

Really, it’s on you for not exercising due diligence upon entering the store; you should’ve known better from the moment you saw that look in her eyes while she was looking at a dress. But there’s nothing you can do about it now, not when she’s already enraptured you with that damn gaze—the one that exudes want and lust, the one that’s the leaven to your morality in her eyes. She knows that she’s got you wrapped around her finger when your hand rests itself atop of her head as she slowly bobs her head over your crotch. She’s taking her time despite the situation that she’s placed the both of you in. 

“This has always been on my bucket list,” she’s letting her hand run along your shaft, spreading her saliva with each stroke of her palm. Her nails, freshly done just over 2 hours ago, glisten under the light—partially because of her spit and partly because of the gloss. “Everything about this is just so… Eroctic, isn’t it?”

Christ, she’s really into this thrill-seeking thing, you note as you choke out a reply: Not particularly, but whatever floats your boat Sana (obviously, it doesn’t come out as smooth as it should. No one would be able to get out a full sentence with phonics properly strung together if they too were getting blown in a changing room). She’s got a glint in her eye, but it’s covered by your shaft as she slides her tongue down your cock, nose brushing against the base of your cock, just behind her tongue. She knows what she’s doing, she’s given you head before; she’s building up the suspense and waiting for you to beg for more. You really don’t want to indulge her, you really don’t, but there’s not much you can do when she starts placing kisses on your shaft—base to tip in a fervently slow fashion. How far is she gonna go with this, you can’t help but wonder, but you quickly have your question answered in the next second or so.

“Unenthusiastic?” she quips, “minus four”.

She wraps her lips around you and pushes her head forward, and you almost let the people in the store know that something’s going down in here.

You figure that the feeling of her lips wrapped around your shaft will never get old, not when it sends electricity up your spine and makes your hand ball into a fist in her hair. Her eyes seem to glint as you let out a sharp gasp. Yes, you could be caught by an employee at any second. Yes, you could very well be caught on camera by a customer at any second. There were a lot of things to consider when assessing the dangers of the circumstances that Sana has put the both of you in. Yet, none of them take anything away from the pleasure she’s bringing you, not as she starts to bob her head in beat to the metronome in her head. There’s no point in trying to figure out her pace. 

“Jesus… Fuck… Sana I…” Your voice is—somehow—hushed as you struggle to convey how weak she’s making you, but it’s not like you need to anyway—she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s loving every second of the havoc she’s wreacking upon your senses. The slight tug in the corner of her lips is the suggestion of a smirk, and the muffled noise that rises from her throat is the implication of a giggle. 

There's a knock on the door and you bristle; Sana slows down, but she doesn’t stop. Past the door, the voice of the staff that led you to this very room asks if everything is alright in there, and you’re praying that her eyes aren’t set on the floor. Sana locks eyes with you, then darts her eyes to the door to tell you—Answer it goddamnit. Of course, she doesn’t make it easy for you as you open your mouth, applying light suction to your tip as you find the strength to say: Yep, just give us a few more minutes please, making you choke on that last word and sending alarms blaring in your head. Thankfully, the store assistant is kind enough to leave you with a take your time sir, and the shadow of her feet disappear from the gap beneath the door. It’s then that Sana pops your glistening cock out of her mouth.

“A few more minutes, huh?” She’s got drool on the corner of her lips as she rises to her feet. “Better make this quick then. You gotta keep your word as a lawyer, don’t you?”

Her wit is certainly better than most of your colleagues.

(There are customers outside now, you can hear them talking to the store assistant. They sound vaguely familiar… Maybe you heard them at the restaurant? Or maybe they’re colleagues… No, that can’t be it, at least you hope so).

Now for the record: you’ve seen Sana naked on multiple occasions, be it voluntarily or not. The shower, the bedroom, even a public shower at the pool… You could name a lot more places where she’d shamelessly flaunted her nude body before you off the top of your head. “A body to die for” is a fitting expression for Sana; you’ve always wondered if you’d find her on the top of the Google image search if you were to look up “dream bodies”, and you figure that you can probably get her there if you could somehow take pictures with your eyes as she undresses before you. She’s more methodical than anything, straying away from her usual teasing nature for the sake of being quick (that’s what you infer from her behaviour, but really, she could just be extremely horny and desperate. There’s never a solid answer to Sana’s behaviour). Mini skirt, then top, then bra; she’s going through the motions that she’d usually drag out just to get a reaction out of you preternaturally quickly.

Why is she getting naked in a changing room? You have no clue. Your best guess: she’s doing it for the thrill of it. The thought of getting caught completely nude with her boyfriend speared inside of her must be sending lethal doses of adrenaline through her veins. A pretty solid guess if you do say so yourself. No time for anymore guesses anyway—she’s already brought your hand up to her right breast, and she’s closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of your fingers closing around the semi-firm flesh. Her top lip’s furling behind her front teeth, she’s letting her other hand rest on your arm. She’s telling you where she wants it—did you cum in my ass yesterday? Or was it the day before? Ah, whatever… Give me a fucking creampie—in this soft, low voice that sends a velvet chill down your spine. Then she's kissing you softly, sweetly, nibbling on your top lip as usual, all while pushing you to the corner of the room where your feet aren't visible to those outside, flushing your back against the wall. It’s an uncomfortable fit, but that quickly changes when she grips the middle of your shaft and lines you tip up with her slit. The hand on her tit is guided to that slim waist, your other hand quickly finding its place on that symmetrical, slim figure. 

“I don’t care if I cum or not,” she drawls, trailing a finger down your chest, “I just want your load inside me, right here, right now. Just focus on that, nothing else.”

(Half request, half demand—give her an award for being so damn ambiguous. Subtitles that could translate what she truly means would be really, really handy right now. Alas, such a system doesn’t exist.)

Describing how Sana’s pussy felt would be doing her injustice. The feeling was ineffable. From entering her to hilting yourself inside of her, there was never a second of that process where you had an easy time breathing or thinking. You’ve never been so reliant on your senses to keep you grounded in reality, nor have you ever been so glad that Sana’s nails are digging into your shoulder. This position—facing each other, standing and fucking against the wall of (all places) a changing room—is a stranger to the both of you, but the sheer tightness of her cunt working hand in hand with the intimacy of it all has you welcoming it with open arms.

Your hips are moving on their own, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you start thrusting into Sana. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into Sana in a mindless, slow fashion, relishing the  feel of her skin in your palms, the look on her face, the soft moans that are slowly slipping from her ever so slightly opened lips. Then your ability to think slowly returns, and you’re thinking like a damn neanderthal—tight, wet, hot, so fucking good—as your grip on her waist tightens. Your shaft glistens in the light of the changing room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her slick, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weak. Sana cups your cheek, lifts your head, and it’s now that you see how her eyes have been completely glazed over with lust and want. Her face, her figure down to the sounds she’s making; everything about her, about this, is the phantasmagoria of a wet dream.

If you were being completely true to yourself right now: You couldn’t care less if you got caught. 

And as if on cue, the voices approach as soon as you finish that train of thought. 

“Do you provide altercation services?” It’s the voice of a man, closely followed by that of the store assistant: Of course sir. After you try on the suit, you can note how you’d like it to be altered to your liking. 

A shadow of feet appears at the base of the door. Sana cups a hand over her mouth as the door rattles—the customer trying to open it. You stop your movements, breath caught in your throat as the store assistant tells him to use the other fitting room. Sana’s breath is loud in your ears as a second set of footsteps approach, followed by a female voice that asks, “Is my husband in there?” 

Yes ma’am, is the assistant’s reply. Of course, this is hardly the end of it.

Now, as the woman engages the store assistant in conversation right outside your door, Sana lets the hand on her mouth drop. She flushes herself against you as the store assistant answers, and she whispers, “Keep going”.

Endlessly seeking thrill. Classic Sana.

The logical part of you warns you against doing as she says. Sadly, there’s not much room for logic in your head in the given circumstances, not when your balls-deep inside your girlfriend in a changing room. There’s barely enough room for dilemma to occur; Sana’s the sole occupant of your mind, rent-free, free-hold, and really: she’s the only thing that matters right now. 

She almost, just almost, lets out a cry when you spear yourself back inside her. You didn't expect to start so soon, and neither did she. However, catching her by surprise is a novelty to you, and you relish in that brief rush of smugness before you restart your movements. Her mouth is frozen in a silent scream, but her eyes say all that she wants to: smug asshole, I’ll kill you later. You reply by letting your index and forefinger slip into her still-open mouth. 

“Personally, I enjoy the Italian selection more…” The store assistant’s voice is barely audible to you over Sana’s small, muffled moans that manage to skirt your fingers and Sana’s closed lips, and as the lady starts talking about trench coats, Sana coats your fingers with a fresh layer of saliva, turning your fingers slick and slimy with her tongue as she looks you dead in the eye, as if challenging you: Is this the best you can do? Is this the riskiest you can be?

Every question from her deserves an answer, and your’s is to remove your saliva-slicked fingers out of her mouth, draw a circle with her spit just above her collarbone, then whisper right into her ear: I’m gonna mark you right there. The involuntary gasp that she lets out tugs the corner of your lips up into a perverse smile. Slowly your lips drift down to the glistening spot, and you wait just a moment to build up that sweet-sweet suspense. It’s a split second, but it’s a second too much for her to bear—the way her body tenses when you finally make contact is the clearest indication you will ever receive. And when you start sucking, God does she almost drive you over the edge: she tightens, she gasps, she starts twitching; she loves it, every second your lips stay locked around that sweet spot of skin is bliss to her.

You can hear the door to the other fitting room unlock, and you hear the man’s heavy footsteps as he walks out, no doubt in that suit he had earlier. The compulsory question comes: how do I look?

There’s a brief moment of silence, and you’re almost fearful of the fact that maybe, just maybe, their ears are picking up on the ragged breathing and slightly audible squelching coming from the other fitting room. All consternation dissipates when the woman starts to comment on how she looks, but Sana seems to have an answer to his question as well: So good. So fucking good. Harder, let me feel all of you, fuck me harder. Oh fuck, you’re so fucking deep. 

You look dashing honey. The pitch of the woman’s reply harmonises with Sana’s soft whine as your lips leave her skin, the same patch where you’ve left your purple artwork on. I think we can afford to alter the pants—

Sana crushes your lips against hers, hot breath filling your mouth as you feel her lift her leg. You hold the back of her knee (like the gentleman you are), bring it to your side, hold it there. She bites your lower lip, hard enough for her to pull and tug it as you start losing yourself in her: her scent, her breath, her skin—all of it’s so deliciously addicting. You can’t get enough.

Then she’s going straight to moaning into your mouth, letting those muffled cries permeate in the small space and hopefully not outside the fitting room. She’s wet, she’s tight, she’s everything you need right now. You want, so badly, to pull her apart, ruin her till you can’t put her back together, get her begging at the top of her lungs for you to fuck her harder and harder. 

And you’re almost on the verge of calling her a slut. There’s no need for that though, she knows what she’s made of herself.

—so that they’re a little shorter. I think we could also try—

Sana’s figured out the best way to moan: straight into your ear. She’s not letting up with them, and she’s giving you one hell of an array of sounds. There’s the common ah, the not so common, oh, and the very common shit, fuck, fuck me and so good. Her phonics are so loosely strung together that they’re just a jumbled mess, and you're perfectly ensconced with that; you love hearing those lazy, sloppy cries, and they only seem even more melodic at this volume, at this moment. Fuck, record them and play them as white noise as you sleep.

—changing the colours of the buttons? Ooh! Maybe we could even change the stitching around—

She tilts her head back, and you’re peppering her neck with kisses. She loves it, you know she loves it; all this attention, all this adrenaline, all this carnality she’s invoking—all of it for her. Each time you grunt, she knows that she’s the damn reason for it. Every time your fingers dig into her thigh a little more, she knows it’s because of her. Every kiss on her neck, every inch of her pussy you fill with your rock-hard meat, all of it’s for her. She isn’t vain, nor is she a pick me girl, but she sure as hell knows how to make you treat her like she’s the only girl in the fucking world, and you’re more than happy to give her what she wants.

Because it’s always like this with Sana: if she wants it badly enough, she’ll formulate a stratagem to get it, nip her cravings in the bud before they turn into desires that she can’t control. Mind you, she’s not dissolute; she’s just “riding the highs of life” as she calls it. Pretty bullshit and circumlocutory, but you always let her off the hook.

—the pocket area? That’s my two cents. What do you think darling?

Another moment of silence follows, and Sana seizes the opportunity to nibble on your earlobe. Her leg’s sweaty, slowly slipping from your grasp and trembling from the pleasure that’s giving her voice this lilt when she says: Carry me. Fuck me. Cum in me. Please. Pleasure, coursing through your veins, makes you comply in an almost servile manner. It’s precipitous, even fatuous to pull such a stunt in a fitting room of all places, but when your hands are supporting her by her ass and her legs lock around your waist, there’s no turning back.

And as the man starts going off on his own preferences, Sana’s wrapping her arms around your neck, letting you get a look at those bouncing breasts as you reach new depths inside of those slick, warm walls. If she could cry out, she would, but those damn customers outside are placing her in a box here, and it’s clearly frustrating her. If you were at your place, her hands gripping your sheets and her juices messing up your quilt, she could moan, mewl, cry and cuss however loud she wanted. In a way, it was funny to watch her hold back, but at the same time: you so badly want to make her scream, undo her right here and now and make her a mess in your arms, but you’ll settle for what you have right now. What the two of you have created is controlled chaos, and should it be released past that damn changing room door, God knows what will happen.

Now it’s the store assistant’s turn to speak, and she’s giving them a rundown of the pricings. Outside, they’re talking about the possibility of a discount; inside, Sana’s talking about how deep you feel inside of. Outside, the man’s trying to guilt-trip the store assistant by saying how exorbitant the price is; inside, Sana’s exclaiming and pleading in a hushed voice—Own me. For the love of God, fucking o-own me!—as each thrust you make into her pussy sends her further and further down this rabbit hole of pleasure. It takes guts to fuck in a fitting room, but it takes the guts of Minatozaki Sana to be this needy while fucking in a fitting room. The risks of being caught are high, the risk of being heard even higher, but neither of those affect her ardour. At a controlled volume, she’s pleading for you to fuck her harder, faster, unravel every single bit of her being while she tries to keep herself together. It’s one hell of a show, and it’s one hell of an experience too. 

(The sight of her perfect body flushed against yours as she’s fucked in the air, the smell of her sickly sweet perfume, the feeling of that divinely tight pussy wrapped snugly around your shaft like a damned glove, the way those sonorously soft moans filter into your ears. Add these together with the fact that the people outside could hear you at any second, and you’ve got one hell of a recipe for a voyeurist’s wet dream. You’re no voyeurist, but everything about this moment is making you feel like one.

Right now, this is everything to Sana. Having you this close to her, feeling that cool Prada air conditioning against her bare body, listening to you grunt and sigh as you piston yourself in and out of that slick, wet slit… All her needs are being fulfilled, all of her senses heightened and primed, aware of every movement you make inside of her pussy. Sometimes, you feel so good and oh fuck, or maybe even oh god isn’t enough to convey how she feels, so she just opts to let out this strained, strangled gasps that tells you everything you need to know—a maelstrom of emotions and expressions compressed and compacted into one simple “hngh” is enough for you to know that you’re doing something right.)

“You like this Sana?” you find yourself whispering. “You like being fucked like a damn slut with people just outside, don’t you? You like everything about this, don’t you?”

Right now, she doesn’t have that capacity to reply. Of course, you know this, which makes you feel all the more smug as you watch, watching as she slips into a state of complete, utter bliss: her mouth hangs open, her eyes are unfocused, she’s barely holding on to you. The purple mark that your lips have left on her neck sears itself into your sight, and it’s joined by the breathtaking view of her breasts loosely bouncing each time you drive yourself into her. Loose strands of hair are flying, neither of you have any hands free to fix them. Her legs are quaking around your waist, neither of you want to stop just so that she can be back down on the floor. Her eyes are closing, you can feel her heartbeat in her pussy, she’s begging, pleading, fucking imploring you to keep going. 

Christ. You want her to moan as loud as she can for you.

It’s hard not to get turned on by the sight of it, and it’s even harder to keep yourself controlled under the rapidly tightening grip of her cunt. Her breaths are shallow, her head is almost completely limp. She may not seem to be aware of it, but you sure as hell are more than cognizant of the fact that the both of you are about to hit that peak that you’ve been chasing for the past God-knows-how-many minutes.

“Sana.” Uttering her name is all that’s needed to bring her back to the real world. When you have her attention, you give her the sentence that she’s been waiting to hear for so damn long: I’m gonna fucking fill you, and It’s like the air gets heavier when she softly whispers, pleads for you to fulfill her new desire; cum with me. I need it so bad. 

Controlled orgasm would take strength to pull off, and you silently pray that you have that strength as you send one final thrust between her shaking legs. Your cock twitches, spasms and the first rope of your warm seed that’s sent into her waiting walls is enough to send her over the edge. She bites down on your shoulder, quick enough to muffle the cry that escapes her throat. The tightening of her walls seem to coordinate with each spasm of your cock, and they sync up, working together to get every last drop of cum out of you and into her. She lets a soft moan escape her lips with each spurt, as though welcoming it, as though each one were something she long wanted and needed. You let out a single, soft grunt, as though thanking her, as though every twitch of her walls that sends a shock down your cock is a treasure to be relished.

So the scarf that she brought in to try is no longer just an ornament like the rest of the outfits. Even after adjusting her outfit, the fabric still can't seem to cover that hickey you left on her collarbone. The simple solution: Sana waits there, you buy the scarf, hand it to her, she puts it on and the both of you walk out of the store like nothing happened, like the both of you really were in there to try on some clothes, then leave. 

It’s unsuspecting, it’s smooth. The store assistant wishes you a good day, and Sana smiles and waves to her, looking exactly like she did when she entered, plus a scarf. The only difference in Sana’s entrance and exit from the Prada store is the load between her legs.

But that’s a secret for the two of you.

*

“Hey. Could I talk to you about something?”

In your two years of dating Sana, never have you heard her this nervous in your life. The fact that your client isn’t responding to you a day before his trial plagues you no more, and your laptop is shut before she can close the door. 

Your posture—arms crossed atop the desk and back straight—is all she needs. The message is implicit: I’m here, all ears, and she smiles softly as she walks over to the bed. The frame creaks a little as she settles down.

“My uh… My Dad is organising another one of those damned Balls again.” The way she intonates her words tells you that the Ball is the least of her concerns at the moment. “It’s gonna be at the usual time.. Usual place… Not like we can move it anyway.”

You offer her a chuckle to assuage her, diffuse the tension a little. She manages a half-forced giggle at her own joke. Is this a transitional opening? Or is this legitimately the subject of her conversation? you’re thinking, and as you sip from your cup, that subtle shift in her posture is shifting the atmosphere of the room. 

She’s scared, but of what?

“I was wondering,” she drums her nails against her knees, “could I… Introduce you to him tomorrow? M-My Dad I mean.”

And now you suddenly understand why she’s on edge. She’s not scared for herself; she’s scared for you. The head of the Minatozaki clan, Sana’s father—you heard much about him, partly because of the stories that Sana tells you and partly from the things you heard through the grapevine at work. In your firm, there’s a whole box dedicated to storing suits that have been opened by him on the intern’s table (it’s a hilariously off-putting thing to say out loud), and from what you’ve heard: there’s another two in the storage room. Personally, you’ve assisted a colleague in one of his lawsuits, and the emails you billed weren’t pretty. You’d be throwing out a fib if you ever couched that you never once thought: It’s a pretty bad first impression of the man, could he maybe… You know… Stop suing people? Please? but you’re not going to let a mere few boxes and one night of reading through emails determine your perception of Sana’s father. 

And hopefully, he won’t judge a book by its cover too.

“I have a trial tomorrow Sha,” you remind her, but it’s not like you actually expected her to remember this; you whispered it to her while cuddling on the couch a solid week ago. “I don’t know when I’ll end. It might be a little tight for me.”

It's undeniable that she sighs in relief. The blush that follows the breath is a clear indication. She’s glad, too glad. You can't help but ask: What’s up? Think I’ll flub everything when I meet him?

Sana does that thing where she wants to answer, but doesn’t know how to: her mouth opens, closes, opens again—longer this time, then closes again. It isn’t an easy thing to talk about; what your father will think of your partner is never not a touchy matter. All touchy matters should be discussed in comfort (Sana knows that you strongly believe in this, that’s why she’s situated herself on the bed), and you join her on the mattress. 

“WIll he feel that I’m not enough for you?” You’re prodding, all while you gently reach for her hand and grasp it in your own. It’s cold, really cold. You’ll warm it up with your palms, keep them there while she replies, “it’s not that… I know that you’re more than enough for me, that’s what matters to him… At least I think so.”

She’s staring down at her hand, the one that’s slowly heating up via the warmth of your hand. Then what’s making you so worried? you’re asking. She folds her bottom in, past her front teeth. You rub her knuckle with your thumb.

“Yea I… I don’t know what’s making me so worried either,” she finally muses. “Guess I’m just… New to this practice. Never had to do it before...”

Because all the men that have tried to win you over have never lasted for more than a week, you complete in your head, smiling as she lays her other hand over yours. It’s cold too—that won’t do.

And as you set another hand atop hers, she’s asking you for a kiss. Luckily for her, obliging her wants is your specialty, and your lips are quickly travelling that small gap between the two of you. Connection is made, and you physically feel her relax. You know. You know that she belides a truth that she’s not ready to divulge. It’s in her kiss, it’s in her hands, and that’s fine with you. You can infer that it’s not something that’s going to be detrimental to your relationship, and whenever she’s ready to speak about it, you’ll always be available.

Now the kiss is done, she’s asking for fried chicken. You counter-ask if the kiss was to soften you up so that she could ask for her Famichiki. Of course, you get a classic Sana reply: a “maybe”, followed by that mischievous grin. You rise from the bed to grab your coat. 

You're glad that the Konbini is just next to your apartment. Sana’s glad that she gets to be close to you as you walk through the snowy street.

“You know,” she’s whispering, “I really won’t mind if you propose to me one of these days.”

You laugh it off, kiss her on her forehead. 

In your head: you note to start looking for a nice ring.

*

Money can get you to places, but it can also get you a private soundproof karaoke room in a club. Three and a half years of dating—that’s all you need to know: you can bet your left kidney that Sana is taking full advantage of that room.

The bottle of Whisky that she opened to get the room is hardly the main event; Sana, slowly slipping out of that tight black dress she’s wearing, foreground to the default music that’s on the TV, has your unwavering attention. The smile on her face could've been mistaken for a sweet one if it weren’t for the fact that she’s getting naked, and the lack of a bra really doesn’t help with her case either.

“There isn’t a time limit to the use of this room, right?” You know the answer to that is no, the lady at the counter told you so. The question is more of a gauge, an instrument that’s helping you assess her plans for the night.

“If you’re trying to know how long we’ll be here for,” she slings her dress onto the couch next to you, and in her stockings and panties, saunters over with a sultry sway in her hips, “my answer is a secret.”

“I have work tomorrow, Sana.”

“Too bad. Call in sick.”

She picks up the glass of Whisky, raises it to her lips. When she drinks, she lets some of that amber liquid trickle out past her lips, down past her chin and onto her tits. In the light, her wet skin glistens and shimmers, and you once again find yourself in absolute awe with the woman before you. And as she straddles you, glass in hand, the way she uses her fingers to tilt your face up to the light tells you that she’s in control. She takes a sip of the amber liquid, swallows it, then brings it to your lips.

“Be a good boy,” she’s tipping the glass as she speaks, a strong way to convey that there’s no room for disobedience, “say ‘ahh’ for me baby.” 

The glass is cold against your lips, the liquor even colder on your tongue as it flows into your mouth at a manageable rate. When she stops pouring, you take the cue, and you swallow all of it in one gulp. The burn in your throat is oddly rewarding, probably because Sana’s smiling down at you, stroking your hair and telling you how obedient you are as you swallow. Then she makes you open your mouth again, pours another portion down the hatch. 

How does it taste, she’s asking, cupping your right cheek as she swirls the glass. You give her a short honest review of it: It’s good. The answer pleases her, and she sets down the glass in her hand to pick up the bottle from the table next to you. 

“Yamazaki, 12 year old single Malt.” She’s letting you see the bottle under the light, though you have to admit that her tits right next to the bottle are a horrible distraction. “My personal favourite.”

She unscrews the cap and takes a swig straight from the bottle, swallows it without even flinching. She’s always been able to hold her alcohol well, and you know for a fact that she can probably outdrink 5 of your colleagues and maybe, just maybe, your boss too. But you’ll never have a fair gauge on how well she can drink in comparison to your peers; she only drinks around you. 

Your face is back in her hand, and she’s got some more things to say—Drink it neat, on the rocks, add it to another drink, it tastes great no matter what—as she starts to lightly grind herself over your throbbing shaft in your pants. But you know what the best way to drink it is, she asks you. She’s not looking for an answer from you, just finding a way to transition from the Whisky to whatever it is she has in mind—you can tell because she leans down to capture lips right after she throws out the inquiry, kissing you deeply, her tongue playing aggressively on your lips before searching your mouth for its counterpart. The smell of Whisky is so damn strong on her breath, and the only thing hotter than the burning sensation in your throat is the fact that she’s using one hand to play with herself, the bottle of Whisky in the other. You can hear it slosh next to your ear as she raises it. 

And as she breaks the kiss, the thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you doesn’t stop her from providing the answer to her question—it tastes the best when you drink it right off my body—as she straightens herself. The next second, still playing with herself, she’s bringing the bottle to her lips, tipping it just before it touches those red-tinted lips to let the golden liquid flow down her chest and breasts. There's no time to admire; you reach out and catch the rapidly falling liquid, your tongue pressed tightly to her skin to lap up as much of the bitter liquor as you could. Her skin glistens with the Whisky on it. It looks like gold in the snow. She smells like lavender and lust.

Your tongue, saturated with Whisky, finds and captures her left nipple. You close your lips around it, suckling deeply from her chest, enjoying the taste of her body and the liquor that made it spicy and bitter. Sana gasps and moans as you have your way with her chest, fondling her small mounds, suckling both of her taut nipples—roughly, hungrily. You could say that she’s wasted some perfectly good Whisky, but you say that she’s added complex flavours to an already exquisite meal. The blend of alcohol and Sana’s skin is not something you never knew you needed, but now you do. The novelty of it, the sheer lust she’s emanating, all of it makes her tits taste better than ever, and you find yourself leaving marks on her cleavage, the right side of her left breast, the left side of her right breast; every centimetre of skin that can be reached is marked and tasted—your attempt at dipping your toes in a little control in this karaoke room that is Sana’s domain.

Maybe you’re a little over-indulgent in her, maybe you’re just unaware, but you certainly can’t feel her slipping your tie off your neck. By the time you’re aware of the sudden feeling of freedom at your throat, she’s already wrapping your wrists, securing them together with an intricate knot. You know damn well that even the boy scouts couldn’t untie this one, even if they sent their best member. The theory is only enforced when Sana asks you to try pulling your wrists apart, and it feels like they’ve been superglued together. Satisfied, she feeds you some more Whisky off her body, then it’s time for her fun.

Palm flat against your chest, eyes flaring, wicked smile; Sana pushed you back against the couch with graceful authority—something that only she is capable of. Then it’s onto your shirt, and he’s unbuttoning it with practised dexterity: unfastening, pulling—motions so fast that she has your reverence for mastering the art. She takes a moment, parts the fabric covering your chest and runs a fingernail down the centre of your torso. The nail—painted black with little Sakura flowers adorning it—stops at your belt. It isn’t hesitance that keeps her finger there; it’s the innate cheekiness that makes her linger there a little longer, that makes her smile softly as the other hand joins in and starts undoing the clasp of your belt. Not a word is uttered as she pulls apart your belt, then goes straight for the buckle of your belt. 

Then it’s back to kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing as she runs her fingers through your hair. The Whisky on both of your breaths mingle. Admittedly, you’re feeling a little floaty, engendering a pleasant tingle on your skin as she starts placing kisses on your cheek, then on your jaw. Next thing you know, she’s sucking hard at the nape of your neck, marking you with those lovely lips, as if she’s placing a wax seal on you, declaring: you are mine and mine alone. And when she successfully sears the shape of her lips onto your skin, she traces the slick outline with a finger, whispers softly, You have no idea how much I want to own you right now. 

The excitement is palpable, the tension even more so. She’s whispering all sorts of things to you—most of them entailing what she’s about to do with your cock—all while she starts to slip your briefs off of your legs. Your cock springs out of your pants, slaps against her ass and twitches on the rotund flesh. The smile grows wider, devilish dimples appear. And for the record: no, she’s not gonna blow you. She’s gonna make herself cum before anything else happens, and she’s going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before. 

She slides off you, gets back up on her feet. With her back turned to you, she bends forward at the waist, shaking her ass while she uses her thumbs to hook onto the waistband of her panties. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. Her pussy glistens in the light, flushed pink and folds tantalising as ever puffy and swollen with excitement.

She bends her knees, getting down on all fours.

She wiggles her ass at you, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“Bet you wished,” she gets on her back, spreads her legs to get the spotlight on her slit, “that you could absolutely own me like this right now, don’t you?”

She’s so cocksure. It’s driving you crazy. You swallow, your voice barely audible as you utter her name. She crawls to you, sits up, her face in front of yours, so close, so hot. Her hand touches the back of your head, her voice barely a whisper as she grips the base of your cock—but you can’t, and it’s so damn frustrating, isn’t it?—and rubs your tip between her dripping folds, lathering her juices all over your head and smiling all the way through. 

And when you least expect it, she turns and sinks down on your cock.

You throw your head back, groan, the sound of her wetness as she takes your cock into her pussy loud and clear over the music. Your head falls forward again, watching her sink further and further, taking more and more of your cock inside her with every passing moment as she lets a long, drawn-out moan float through the air. When her crotch meets yours and you are fully embedded inside her, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure that leaves open lips. You meet it with a sigh of your own, somehow tearing open your own shut eyes to watch the expression on her beautiful face as you fill her. 

Christ, fuck and god—just some of the words that you want to cry out as she starts to slowly grind herself against you. The ride she’s about to take is one that’s of perverse nature; it’s not going to be a slow, pleasant ride. Naturally, her habit of jumping straight into things leaves her unprepared for what she’s about to experience, so now she has to slowly slowly adjust to your size, like striking the flint over and over next to the fireplace as you hope to get a flame going. Usually, this would be a time where you’d caress that beautiful body, run your hands over that unblemished white skin and pepper kisses all over the places that she loves to be kissed. But she’s not in the mood for that, not when she has this room and you at her disposal. 

Then the fire ignites, and it is merciless, a force of nature—untameable, unrelenting. In your bonds you are unable to resist. You never would’ve in the first place. She begins to move, her pussy tight and slick around your cock. She rides you like she was made to do this, like a pro. She rides you fiercely, roughly, taking you in and out of her tight wet heat, caring little for your comfort or much of anything aside from stuffing herself over and over with thick, hard meat. Throughout it all she is digging into your thigh, crying out like her life depends on it as she goes up, down, up, down—a lewd seat on a merry go round.

Yes, yes, yes—she throws her head back, auburn hair flying like streamers in the wind as she has her way with you—o-oh fuck I need this! I need this so fucking bad! The rhythmic, repetitive motion, her unbridled desire to be filled, it sends you reeling. The pressure on your leg is forgotten, the slight discomfort in your arms pushed out of the way. You can do nothing but watch her ride you. You can do nothing but marvel at how good you feel inside her, how the tightness of her pussy massages your shaft, how the way she takes you so completely into her folds, how you stretch her and make her quiver and quake.

A part of you wishes the mirror were visible from your current position, so that you could watch as Sana impales herself over and over on your cock. You want to watch the expression of pleasure wrangle her cute features, want to watch her full, round breasts bounce up and down, want to watch every muscle of her long, perfectly shaped legs work to throw her body again and again against your cock. But you’ll have to content yourself with the almost equally alluring view of her sweaty back (not that it was a particularly difficult position to enjoy. How could you call it “bad” with the view of her round, full ass as she slams it down against your crotch?). It’s not like you can change anything about this anyway. No—the only thing you can do is sit back, watch, and savour how her ass jiggles as it crashes against your crotch.

Oh fuck, oh yes! I’m so fucking full! I’m so stuffed with this cock!

You lose yourself to the sound of her voice, the feeling of her pussy as it swallows up your cock, the sight of her back arching and her hands shaking. As much as you try, you find yourself unable to move, as though your own pleasure has been drained out of your body, and you are just an observer. You watch as she pushes herself down further on your cock, impaling herself with every thrust of her hips, her voice growing louder and louder as she gets into that dangerous rhythm, the rhythm that makes you think she’s on Acid. Well-formed breasts bounce, you see them past her slender figure. Her shapely, luscious ass ripples. Long legs work overtime, cooperating with the stamina of the girl who is using them to drive herself over the edge like it’s her be-all and end-all. It’s exhilarating. It’s thrilling. 

It’s so fucking hot. 

Oh god. You’re stretching me out so good. This cock feels so damn good!

Two things are getting you at the moment: (1) The sweat glistening that’s building up on her back. (2) The fact that she’s pushing your thighs apart to get more of you inside her. The former sight is a breathtaking process really: beady moisture on that well built back, pooling at all the best places and making her skin glow as some of it slowly trickles down her spine. The latter’s no grain of sand either mind you, maybe even hotter than Sana’s sweaty back if you dare say. Freshly done nails sit just outside the insides of your thighs, the palms that they’re connected to pushing down against the flesh beneath them. They’re indenting the muscles of your thighs, it’s uncomfortable, but only for a second at a time. 

I don’t wanna stop. I don’t wanna fucking stop!

In your restraints, your hands grasp at the flesh that’s so close yet so far, the skin that’s rippling and slapping against yours. Her ass taunts you, tempts you, teases you. It’s so frustrating yet so erotic; you aren’t sure if you should welcome this mix of emotions or reject it before it folds its wings and nestles itself in your chest. The mix of desire and vexation, exasperation and ecstasy—any two emotions that shouldn’t go together are mixing, blending, forming these bubbles in your chest that you can’t explain. 

One woman; innumerable sensations.

You need more. More of everything. More of her.

You wish you could touch her.

You wish you could fuck her.

But all you can do is watch, watch as she starts going down harder, crying out even louder. 

Her body, so flawlessly feminine, is in deadly motion, working you over from the inside like you’ve never experienced. The air is filled with the wet, lewd sounds of her pussy sucking you in your hips slapping against her ass, her moans and groans, her curses that seem to go on perennially, blending in perfectly with that shitty synth in the background.

And you’re just along for the ride.

You have no idea… How good this is.. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And she wants you to see it, she wants you to watch her—it is exactly that kind of attention that she is basking in. So you watch. You watch her, the way she looks back at you, the way her eyes flare as she takes you in, the way her hands claw at your leg. The way she's moaning with that lilt back in her voice. Everything about this spectacle seems like it’s been scripted for some porno, and her body is certainly making you feel like you’re in one. The only grasp on reality that this situation offers is… Well, nothing. And it’s not that there really isn’t anything for you to root yourself in this real world, rather you’re choosing not to make that mental effort to do so; every little corner of your mind is being bled with whatever colour the image of Sana bouncing on your cock is. There’s no room for reality, and it's addicting, enthralling.

Fuck. You can't get enough of her, and you probably never will.

So deep! So fucking… Oh my god!

Your breath is ragged, and it takes every bit of control you have left in you to not cum right then and there. It takes every ounce of focus not to simply give in to her, not to simply melt into the couch, not to lose your mind to the sensation of her tight, wet slick as it swallows you in, pushes you out; fucking itself over and over and over again on your rock hard shaft. You don't know how much longer you can hold out for, and as if she can tell, Sana starts to move faster, her movements getting even more aggressive. The slaps of her ass against your crotch are louder now, and the wet smacking sound of her pussy's getting faster and faster. Her fingers are digging into your leg, her moans more frequent and more desperate. You can feel her tightening around you, the way her walls clamp down, the way her legs are trembling, the way her voice is going up in pitch. 

(It’s the moments of privacy that really get her going; the moments where she can scream and cuss and moan like there’s no tomorrow are everything to her. 

Yes, she likes fucking in public spaces for the thrill of it, but she likes it better when she can hold you freely as you fill her, not having to care for the fact that the way her body’s positioned engenders any discomfort or risk of being heard.

Yes, she likes it when there’s the chance that someone can walk in on the two of you, but the prospect of being able to own your cock, uninterrupted and unheard, thrills her like nothing else in the damn world.

Yes, she likes to see if she can hold in her cries while you’re rearranging her insides in a bathroom stall, but she prefers it much more when she can slam herself down on your cock—be loud and be proud of the fact that she loves every inch of meat that fills her till she can barely breathe. 

Bottom line: she likes chasing that thrill of being caught, but she loves those moments where she’s alone with you in private even more. Now is one of those times, and God… She’s barely herself anymore.

She is a storm of pure, unfiltered lust. And you must say: it’s fucking sublime.)

Then the game changing sentence comes from her, and it's beautiful. 

"I'm fucking cumming!"

The words ring out, clear and loud. And she doesn't stop; she keeps riding you, taking you into her wet hole and milking your cock, using you to bring herself off. It's not until the final second that she slows down, her back arching as she lets out the most satisfying scream that you have ever heard in your entire life. It is all that you can do to watch as she slumps forward, breaths ragged and body twitching as you hold yourself back. It takes everything—every fibre, every cell and every last bit of will—to not cum in her right there and then. And when the final spasm has passed and the shuddering has subsided, when Sana has collapsed against you, your cock still buried inside her, she turns to you.

There are no words spoken, just a mutual understanding of what comes next. She slips off the couch, takes your slick shaft in her hands. A few pumps are delivered, and they’re considerate and slow; she’s good at building tension.

“You’ve already marked my tits. Might as well cum on them.” She’s still got some cheekiness left in her, and that smile is really doing everything for you. 

“Fuck, Sana, I—” “Do it. Paint me.”

You feel the semen gather in your balls before coursing up your shaft and erupting from its tip, landing in thick, wet, warm ropes upon Sana’s creamy skin. Your tip is directed between her cleavage, and the first spurt of cum shoots itself between those wonderful mounds. It’s quickly followed by a second rope, and the third lands on her upper chest. With grace, she manages to direct your spurting cock by the base so the fourth and fifth ropes cover the front of her tits, then the rest don’t matter anymore.

The last ropes of thick, warm semen land upon her face, staining her soft, blushing features with creamy white cum. Some of it lands on her cheeks, on her forehead and onto her open mouth and the thirsty tongue within it. When you finally open eyes you hadn’t known had closed, the picture of Minatozaki Sana, face and chest painted with your warm, thick cum, is one you never want to forget. And as she scoops up your seed with her fingers, she’s got a thing or two to say.

“Excellent load,” she whispers, watching as the cum slithers down her palm. “Plus two to you.”

Just two? Is your reply of false bewilderment. Sana chortles. 

Maybe if you can give me a load up my ass, I’ll consider adding another three points.

*

Now the ring’s oddly heavy in your pocket. 

Sana’s father seems more imposing than he should for a man his size, and looking at the Yamazaki bottle on the desk, you can tell that Sana gets her liking for Whisky from him. 

“I’ve never met you in my life,” he begins, “and now you come here like a friend, asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Sana’s head is bowed. In the corner of the office she sits, hands clasped over one another as she listens in silently. No amount of trials or oral submissions could ever prepare you for this tension.

“Mr Minatozaki… I understand that all of this is sudden,” you begin, but you’re interrupted by a raised hand.

“You know boy… You sure do talk like you know everything about the situation.” His voice is nowhere near threatening as he speaks, and it’s absolutely terrifying. “For a lawyer, you sure do sound quite the fool. Guess I shouldn’t have been expecting much considering your background.”

And it’s that very statement that has you on tenterhooks. You’ve never met him, never even seen his face, yet he knows your occupation which you never even touched on, and from the sound of it, knows what went down in your family. Sana’s head snaps up, her eyes wide as she watches her father produce a file from under his desk. 

“It’s not the suddenness,” the air quotations he uses hold more weight than they really should, “that doesn’t sit well with me dear boy. No, no… It’s more than that.”

The broad leather chair in his office grows constricting. As he rises from his seat, the foam that holds your butt up seems to depress. And as he begins—if you sauntered in here as just a lawyer, I would’ve let you take my daughter in a heartbeat!—his explanation of what’s grinding his gears, you start feeling uneasy. For context on the severity of this feeling: the last time you felt like this was when you first met his daughter.

But you’re not just a lawyer—he’s opening the file in his hands, flipping through its contents—you’re a disgrace to this very world. You shouldn’t even be in this damn house right now. 

Into the file his hand reaches, and out from it: two mugshots. You bristle; Sana gasps (and it’s not that she didn’t know, rather because she was shocked that her father knew.)

So it’s the next sentence that seals your fate. Frankly, you kind of expected it, but it still doesn’t take away from the sheer bedlam that goes down in your head when Mr Minatozaki waves the mugshots of your parents before your face and shrieks at the top of his lungs. 

This isn’t the way you pictured this going. 

Honestly, you never pictured this happening at all.

 “Do you seriously think for a second that I’d let the son of two druggies—two disgraceful, repugnant, filthy, druggies—marry my daughter?”

*

It’s hard to forget what she told you over the phone after your talk with her father (if you can even call it that): we’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out. 

Money can get you a nice fancy Ball, some nice Whisky and a private Karaoke room. Naturally, it can grant you a means to keep the son of two convicted drug abusers that hung themselves in their cells away from your daughter. 

So not even 12 hours after that fate-sealing conversation did you get a phone call from your boss. Next thing you know, you’re uprooted from your workplace in Osaka, transferred to the branch in Nagoya; Sana’s number mysteriously changes itself, none of your letters ever reach her. 

It’s over the payphone, months after all of this, that Sana finally reaches you, and she’s ugly crying over the phone. 

We can fix this, we’ll figure something out. We’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out. 

In a way, she ended up being right. 

And in your suit, you smile as you watch her walk down the aisle. She’s beautiful as ever, and you feel like that white veil over her face is doing her the biggest disservice ever. The little boy carrying the wedding rings seems a little confused, but it only adds to his adorable aura as he stumbles behind Sana. The flower petals are being scattered, the crowd’s on their feet. They’re clapping; you’re crying. Have you mentioned that she looks beautiful?

Oh? You have? Odd…

But just in case it slips your mind, you tell her how beautiful she is in your head, all while she walks right past you and continues to the stage. It feels like the ring boy’s acting stupid to taunt you for being the fool here. 

In a way, she ended up being right. If “We” referred to Sana’s father and that man on the stage, “We” did indeed end up figuring things out. The invite broke you, and this wedding is breaking you even more. You know that this invite wasn’t sent by Sana—she isn’t cruel. This has the fingerprints of her father all over it: the seat close to the aisle, your wristband to authorise your access to the venue holding the same serial code as your father’s prisoner ID… All of it is him. 

But there’s not much you can do about it is there? You chose to come, you chose this for yourself. There was the option to not come, to tear the invite up and go cry in your apartment in Nagoya, but you bought the Shinkansen ticket here, didn’t you? You walked through the doors of this damn place and took your seat, didn’t you?

And the Yamazaki doesn’t taste as good as it should, and the Spring air is sharper than it should be at the afterparty. They’re over there, congratulating the newly weds and wishing them all the best; you’re over here, sipping on your neat Whisky behind a bush as the music roars on.

It really shouldn’t be a question on how she finds you; she knows you too well to know where you’d go at a place like this. And in her wedding gown, she stands where she is, this look of a god-knows-what mix of emotions simmering on her face. You rub your nose with a thumb, sip on the bitter Whisky as your remedy. No words are spoken, not even a “hey” or “how have you been”—both of you know that there’s no use in starting a conversation here. It’ll go sob, fast, and this isn’t the place for it.

There will never be a place for it.

So why not substitute words with actions? 

So in her bare feet, she hikes up her gown, runs over to you, lunges to close those years of separation between you two to hug you like she used to. The Whisky is knocked out of your hands; you’re knocked off your feet. And in the grass, she buries her head into your shoulder and weeps. 

You always thought that only death would make you cry, but now as you hold her for what may very well be the last time, you realise: you're not as tough as you think.

Like a Lemon, the realisation that comes is bitter, and it has you bawling.

Cause maybe in a world that wasn’t so cruel, you could’ve been the one on that stage.

(Then the two of you could be in love, happier than ever.)

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 6: Come As You Are

Word count: 8k+

Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

---------

A call from Kim Minju at this hour is never good news. 

To give context: It’s one in the morning on a Saturday. Office workers and the youth above the legal age for drinking are patronising drinking spots, throwing back a couple of beers and basking in the euphoria that alcohol brings them. Perhaps they're using alcohol to cope with the stress of their lives, or maybe they're trying to numb the pain of recent difficult experiences. In both cases, emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through their systems, memories are resurfacing, and maybe, just maybe, tears are streaming down their cheeks—nothing too out of the ordinary. If you were to receive a call from anyone else at this hour, you would've thought it a request to be escorted back home, or a soused friend dialling in to say incomprehensible things before truncating the call.

But for more context: Kim Minju has been the bearer of bad news since highschool. If you are to combine this with the information above, you know that something has probably gone down, and you’re the only man she can trust to help them. She never calls you on a whim; every call from her is a desperate cry for help. 

As you stare at her caller ID on your phone that vibrates on the table like it’s possessed, you start steeling yourself for what is to come. You’re hesitant to answer, but basic human decency gets the better of you. You can hear the deafening roar of club music in the background when you pick up, and Minju’s yelling into the phone. Even in the quiet of your apartment, you can’t make heads or tails of what she’s trying to convey to you. Even as you holler I can’t hear you at the top of your lungs, she continues to blabber her intelligible words over the pulsing bass of that horrible song that’s playing in the background.

Then it suddenly gets quiet on the other end, and for a moment, you only hear the sound of your heartbeat crunching in your ears. When Minju speaks again, you can hear the wind blowing by in the background, your indication that she’s exited the club. Her voice rings loud and clear in your apartment. 

“Eunbi’s driving to your place, she’ll explain everything,” she’s telling you. “She’ll text when she arrives, get ready to be picked up.”

The urgency in her voice drives you to acquiescence, and you throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. Couple of minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of your singer’s car. She’s running you down on the events that have occurred tonight, and the multiple mentions of Chaewon makes your heart sink further and further. 

It was enough dealing with her in the band. That shrill frequency she could produce with that trumpet was often aptly used to deafen you whenever she could (she sat on your direct right so she could be a bitch with ease). The bowl she used to collect her saliva was often “accidentally” (the way she said that word with such bogus innocence really brought you to your boiling point sometimes) spilt on to the leg of your jeans when you walked by, her trumpet case “coincidentally” (again, bogus innocence with this one) be in the way of your shin as you tried to get to your kit. Her behaviour wasn’t the culprit behind your irritance towards her, rather the fact that her behaviour failed to reflect what she had requested for when the two of you schismed—a clean break.

“She’s thrown up twice now.” Eunbi’s tone is a mish-mash of frustration and commiseration, “She refuses to move, and she's been groped twice. We don’t mean to drag you into this, but you’re the last feasible option.”

There’s an odd feeling of nihility in your chest as the two of you come to a stop at a red light. In the band, you dealt with her on a physical level. But when Kim Chaewon and alcohol merge, you know that you’ll have to deal with her on an emotional level, and that somehow fails to engender any spite or frustration of the ilk. The silence that hangs in the car is unsettling in light of the confusing sensations you’re experiencing (and also due to the fact that usually chatty Eunbi is finding it hard to start a conversation in this atmosphere), yet you find that you’re poised. 

“I’m uh… I’m actually your highschool senior,” Eunbi decides to input, “I used to go to the same school as you, Chaewon and Minju…”

You remain reticent. Eunbi takes the cue and returns her eyes to the road. 

The bouncer almost didn’t let you in because of your shabby fit, but a quick wink and a, he’s with me, from Eunbi was enough to get him to let you through. You easily spot Minju amidst club-goers once you get in.  Those long, luscious jet black locks that flow just past her shoulders and those large round eyes that always seem to be doleful quickly catch your attention as you wade through the sea of people together with Eunbi. She looks the same as she did all those years ago. She stands when you approach; Kim Chaewon’s slumped over the table they’re at. 

“Thank god you’re here.” Her expression tells you that she’s been through quite the ordeal tonight. “I… I hope you understand that—”

She stops mid sentence when you hold up a hand. You understand that such a gesture is impertinent of you, but you can’t help it—there’s too much to process, too much to take in, and a club isn’t the best place to assimilate it all (or to find a lover, an ex lover in this case). Minju steps aside, and you take a moment to look at the sorry sight of your ex—face down on the table of the booth seat and an empty shot glass in hand. 

“What do you want me to do?” you ask them. The two girls look at each other, then Minju tells you to do whatever it takes to get her out of here. 

So there you are—contemplating on whether you should dump a bucket of ice on her or gently wake her up. Basic human decency gets the better of you, and you slide onto the couch next to Chaewon, gently tap the bare shoulder that’s exposed in her outfit. When she raises her head off the sticky, glossy table, you’re momentarily reminded of the countless times you’d woken her up in the same way when she fell asleep in the school library.

Then those eyes—half-lidded and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. The volume of her voice pales in comparison to the blaring House remix of the Barbie theme, yet when she calls your name, it’s the only thing you can hear. She shifts closer—close enough to rest her head on your shoulder, close enough for you to smell the vodka on her breath as she silently sobs against you; Don’t go, don’t leave, she slots in between those heart wrenching cries. Right now: emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through her system, memories are resurfacing, and tears are definitely streaming down their cheeks. 

Eunbi and Minju look on in silence. Eunbi’s lips are pursed, Minju’s eyes are somehow more doleful. Their looks are doing nothing to assuage the turmoil that you’re feeling. You find yourself saying things that you were never prepared to say. 

“She can stay at my place for the night… I doubt she’d want to go anywhere else.”

They look apprehensive, but deep down—they know you’re right.

***

“Uh… Are you sure you want to present this?” 

Chaewon looks up from her presentation script to give a simple, “Hm?”. You were scratching your head as you read over the vivid description of Kurt Cobain's death that she’d included. It detailed the nature of his death, the brutal imagery of small, tiny shotgun pellets blowing a hole through the skull of Nirvana’s frontman on the night of his suicide described in an unnaturally calm tone, as if people shooting themselves through the head with a shotgun was an everday occurance. 

“I mean…” You were doing your best to not sound reprehensive, “I don’t think Miss Kim would appreciate the… Visceral imagery.”

Her look was one of innocence as she asked, why not, and proceeded to further justify her vivid depiction (her argument was that Lee Chaeyeon had presented on Aviccii’s death in equal vividness and your teacher enjoyed it). The theme of the presentations for the week was “the talented die young”, and she’d decided to talk about one of her favourite bands at the time. She was blasting their hit song Smells Like Teen Spirit through the speaker in her room, and you were finding it hard to focus over all that grunge (you didn’t tell her of course, cause that would’ve made her pouty for the rest of the day).

That was one of your fondest memories from dating her. It showed you her tenacity and her stubbornness in insisting that she was correct. It showed you just how determined and strong-willed she could be. You found that you could still recall every detail of that moment as vividly as she described Cobain's death while you watched her walk around your kitchen from the doorway to your room. Her hair is in disarray, the set of clothes that you’d passed her baggy on her slender frame. For the record: She knows how she got here, she knows where she is, she knows you’re awake, and she knows that you’re watching her. In spite of all this, her movements are calm, her hand taking its time to trail across your cabinets as her eyes slowly soak in her surroundings. 

“You know, for someone that said that they wanted a clean break—you’re making things messier than they should be,” you can’t help but tell her. Her hand stops on the handle of your cabinet, her index finger affixing itself there for a minute as she lowers her head. With a sigh, you stuff your hands into your pockets and tell her, “Get out once your hangover wears off.”

You retreat back into your room to get some work done. When you emerge around lunchtime, you find that she’s taken liberties in your kitchen, a piping hot bowl of noodles sitting opposite her at your dining table as she silently slurps on a bowl of her own. You stand there for a moment, then you accost the eating space and stop just before her. 

“Are you being for real?” You can’t help but let the revulsion seep into your words, “You’re telling me that your hangover has lasted this long?”

She’s unwontedly silent. Her pugnacious, bratty nature seems to have dissipated into thin air, replaced by one of taciturn and timidness as she stares blankly into her noodles. She doesn’t look up when you sigh and slide into the other seat, nor does she say anything when you start digging into the noodles that she’s prepared for you (you aren’t one to pass up on a free meal, even if it’s prepared by your ex). 

It’s when you're halfway through your bowl that she finally pipes up, “thank you for taking me in.”

You go still for a moment. 

Then you choose not to reply to her. 

After washing up, you communicate to her that she has till sundown to leave your abode before you head back to your room. You know that she’s going to stay like that stubborn patch of mould beneath the snare drum in the recording studio when you hear her playing Smells Like Teen Spirit on her phone through the door. Once again, that damn song is reminding you of how tenacious and stubborn she can be. Those two traits of hers were really double edged swords for that woman.

Night comes; she still hasn’t left. When you exit your room, you find that she’s asleep on the floor. It seems that she’s found it congenial to sleep on the carpeted surface, even though the futon that you provided her last night is literally an arms length away from her sleeping body. Seeing her that way, you’re momentarily reminded of the times she’d stay over at your place while you were dating, and she’d choose to nap on the floor while you worked—even though the bed was empty. The reasons as to why she chose to do so are still unknown to this day—one of the many unsolved mysteries in your relationship, second only to why she’s being the way she is despite what the two of you have previously agreed on.

To be absolutely clear: the two of you know why you broke up. It wasn’t a case of a one-sided sudden change of heart; there was a reason behind it that you both understood (even though you did need a lot of time to come to terms with it). Yes, it was painful. Yes, it was unexpected. Yes, you did miss her for quite some time. But there wasn’t much you could do about it. She’d set her mind on the breakup, and her stubbornness and tenacity had her on wits end when you tried to talk to her. 

Was there a possibility the two of you could’ve stayed together? Your answer—yes. Her’s—only God knows what goes through that confusing brain.

Once more, basic human decency drives you to do things you don’t want to, and you end up cooking a share of fried rice for her. You lay her bowl next to her on the floor along with a spoon before seating yourself at the dining table to eat. You’re about halfway through a video essay about some game you’ll never play when she stirs from her slumber. 

She spots the bowl, then her gaze wanders to you. Silently, she picks it up and rises to her feet. Now it’s her turn to accost the eating space, except she isn’t belligerent, nor can you sense any hostile intentions.

“Can I sit?” She’s oddly genteel as she points at the chair opposite you. You’ll just end up sitting even if I say no, is your reply. She allows a soft, short chuckle before she slides in. You think about turning off the video essay, but then you decide to not let basic human decency get the better of you this once. 

So with some random guy’s voice filling the air, you and Chaewon partake in your meals in silence. You try not to look at her, but you can’t help but throw a few glances her way as she eats. She decided to grow out her hair over the past few weeks, dye it auburn, and now it drapes elegantly past her shoulders like silky curtains. You can’t read her expression (though you never could to begin with), and you certainly can’t understand why she’s become so quiet. She’s trying to make you lower your guard, soften you up then launch some manipulation tactic is what you’re considering. You won’t put it past her to use a facade of milquetoast nature to try and break past your boundaries. 

“I’ll be out by tomorrow morning,” she suddenly tells you. That was the first time you tore your gaze away from your phone for more than five seconds. How would one normally reply to such a statement? Oh, okay, seems to be one of the better options, yet you choose to go with, “Good, cause I’m not planning to overstay your welcome.”

Chaewon plucks a rice grain off her top lip. “But you’d let Eunbi or Ryujin stay, right?”

There you were, hoping that she’d be as timid and quiet as she’d been for the rest of the day. The nap must have gotten rid of the rest of the hangover, cause you can hear the haughtiness in her voice. 

“Are we really going to have this conversation?” you ask her. The firm look she fixes you with tells you, I’m gonna run my mouth on you whether you like it or not. 

“And here I was thinking you’re being a decent human for once,” you can’t help but mutter. “You’re fucking confusing you know that?”

She bristles in her seat. “You watch your fucking mouth player.”

You’re not one to take offence from such comments. Normally, you’d understand that in the heat of the moment, people can say hurtful things that they don’t mean. It’s natural, completely natural—the adrenaline, the emotions, the tension… All of it can melt together in the form of nasty words that spew forth from a person’s mouth. 

But when it comes from Kim Chaewon’s mouth however… You can’t seem to find that sympathy in you. She knows that you’ve slept with your singer and bassist, she knows that they’ve had you more than once—it’s right for her to feel this type of anger (even though the two of you aren’t even together anymore), yet there’s no part of you—not even a single atom—that wants to take the time to try to understand where she’s coming from and why she feels this way.

“Player?” You don’t mean to sound as pissed as you do. “Player?” you echo again, just for good measure, “What gives you the right to call me that? I’m not the one who couldn’t wait for their partner!”

“It was two years!” Chaewon cries.

“Well you could’ve at least tried.” You’re not even bothering to filter your words now. “You’re a hypocrite for calling me a player when you couldn’t even wait for me.”

“Two fucking years! Do you really expect me to close my heart to love for two whole years just so I can wait for you to get out of the damn military!” The way her tone conveys how right she thinks she is pisses you off, “I’m a human! I need love! Do you really expect me to wait for it for that long?”

She’s on her feet now, hands on your table, breaths heavy. 

She screams, “It’s your fault for signing on so early! It’s your fault for ever thinking that I’d wait!” 

You shoot up from your seat and cry, “Well then damn me for ever trying to believe in you!”

Her face contorts into a snarl. She skirts the table, accosts you with her arm whizzing through the air; she slaps you across the face. As the sting lingers on your cheek, you find your fingers curling into fists. 

“You’re horrible!” She’s hollering at the top of her lungs, “I wish that I never met you!”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of her heavy breathing. Then those eyes—bulging in their sockets and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. She looks just as she did the night the two of you broke up: hair slightly messy, face twisted in a mix of woe and fury, right up in your face as her face starts to flush under the intense assault of emotions and thoughts. She’s close—close enough to grip you by your collar and pull you towards her, crush her lips against yours, kiss you like she did when you were teens. 

And she does just that.

A soft cry slips past her lips, travels into your mouth as she kisses you; It feels exactly the same as it did all those years ago—the meraki, the slight tension in her upper lip, the light quiver in your bottom lip—a familiar comfort you had no idea you missed. Her small waist is captured in your grasp, your face in her hands as she pulls you deeper, kisses you harder. It was like she never left, like she never walked away from you because you had decided to enlist in compulsory military service early so that you could get it over and done with, like she never said, seeing you on the weekends isn't enough for me, I’m sorry. This won’t work out the way you think it will. Let’s just end things off here, nice and clean.

And get this: the whole moment is sweet and all, but deep down, there’s still a small flame of anger alit within you. Even though you kissed her back with equal vigour, you were silently cursing her for making things messier than it had to be; while your hands run through her hair, you find yourself berating her in your head for making you vacillate between missing her and hating her. You aren’t one to be flippant, but Chaewon had the tendency to bring out sides of you that you’ve never seen for yourself. 

Her tongue dives into your mouth, her hand pressed flat against your chest. She’s tugging at the fabric of your shirt, and you’re not sure if she’s trying to pull you closer or signalling for you to take it off. You realise it’s the latter when she guides you hand beneath the fabric of the shirt you gave her, your fingertips grazing the soft skin beneath it. Your palm rests on the flesh of her waist. Her skin was warm to the touch. 

Your mouths part, and you’re quick to ask, What the hell are we doing. She takes a second to catch her breath, then she replies, “I have no clue, but I’m not stopping whatever’s coming next.”

Going with the flow—that was so her. 

You grasp onto the hem of her shirt and gently pull upwards. She’s quick to respond, raising her hands above her head for ease of removal. Then her hands are on your waist band, tugging down at your shorts while your hands skim across her bare skin. She pulls your underwear down together with your shorts, lets them fall and pool around your ankles; her hand is quick to grasp onto your throbbing shaft. 

“Chae.” You can’t help but whisper your pet name for her. She starts placing kisses on your clothed chest, her other hand resting on your shoulder while the hand on your cock begins to stroke it with consideration. She leans in and whispers, “Can we pretend like we never left each other? Just for tonight?”

A foolhardy request. She doesn’t know what she’s doing by asking this of you, nor does she care to consider the possibility that the fulfilment of this request can and will invoke unwelcome emotions in both of you. Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

Her hand on your dick leaves to join and assist the other in undoing her bra. She lets the intimate garment fall to the floor before her, her bare breasts on full display. She’s certainly grown more voluptuous as compared to her eighteen-year-old self, and with that change you find an increase in desire for this woman before you. Chaewon cups her tits with her hands, lifts them up, then lets go; she’s putting on a sordid show. 

“Christ.” Christians certainly wouldn’t approve your usage of the name of their saviour in this abhorrent, impure context. “You’ve… Grown.”

“Puberty works wonders, no?” She’s taken on a playful tone, one that she was always fond of using while the two of you were dating. “Feel them. I know you want to.”

No sane man would ever turn down such an invitation. You can feel her erect peaks poking against your palms as your fingers close around the mounds; your breath hitches when you realise how firm they’ve become. Her hands join yours on her breasts, aiding you and squeezing and kneading while she lets a sigh leave her lips. Then in a whisper, she tells you how much she’s missed this feeling—your hands caressing her just the way she likes, your breath in her ears as you silently play with her like you used to.

Then she asks you, “Do you ever think about me when you fuck those other girls?”

You consider your words carefully. If you’re to be perfectly honest, there were a few times where the sight of Ryujin’s rippling ass cheeks made you think about her; sometimes the way Eunbi moaned reminded you of her. 

But if you’re supposed to pretend like you never left her, some teasing would have to come into play. 

“Depends.” You’re not even trying to hide how smug you are, “In what way are we talking?”

She gives you a look, one that says, you cheeky little fucker, but she plays along of course, offering a soft, Hm, as she pretends to go pensive.

Let’s see—she speaks as she (much to your chagrin) practically rips your hands off her body, all so that she can start circling you—Do their moans sound as cute as mine? Are their bodies as tight as mine? 

She leans in to pop the final question: Do their pussies feel as good as mine?

For the record: No to the first one, a fifty-fifty between yes and no on the second one (they all had amazing bodies). As for the last question, you couldn’t say (not because you didn’t have an answer, but more because ranking them in terms of how good they feel would be doing all of them an injustice).

Dunno, is the answer you offer her, then you follow up with, “Why don’t we find out?”

She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Segueing—impressive.” 

“I’m a laconic man,” you tell her, and, Oh shut the hell up, is her reply as she takes you by the hand and drags you to your room. 

It’s crazy to think that just mere minutes ago, she was on her feet, yelling at you and telling you how odious she finds you; now, she’s on her back, her head propped up against a pillow, still yelling, but she’s telling how good you’re making her feel—Fuck, and, Oh shit is all that’s really leaving her mouth, but the message is implicit—as your tongue applies painfully slow strokes to her soaking pink folds. The hand that slapped you is now scrunching up in your hair, the palm that made your cheek sting pushing your head against her crotch while her toes curl into your mattress. You’re wondering if she’s intentionally pitching up her voice as she moans, or if she’s purposely dragging out her sighs, but it doesn’t take away from the utter sublimity of the act. 

Chaewon’s slick is sweet; it’s tangier than Eunbi’s and tickles your taste buds better than Ryujin’s—you won’t tell her this of course, but it’s not like you’ll have time to communicate all of this while your head being shoved into her pussy. Believe it or not—this is one of the calmer moments of pussy-eating that you’ve experienced, one of the rare occasions where you actually have time to savour the taste of your partner, assimilate the intimacy of it, a far cry from when you were with Eunbi or Ryujin, where the goal was always to make them cum as fast as possible because that’s what they’re craving for. But believe it or not—even though her needy actions make it seem as if she’s desperately chasing her high, Chaewon’s really just trying to make the most of each and every swipe of your tongue, enjoying the way it skirts her clit and laps up her juices that leak out from her pretty, pink folds; all while she’s squeezing her thighs around your ears and begging you, Oh god, put your fingers in me. 

You start with your index finger, using the pad of it to trace the outline of her pussy. Then—just to make sure that she knows that it’s going in too—you let your middle finger join the fray. Your digits graze the skin around her flushed lips, taking their time to cover ground while Chaewon’s reduced to a moaning, mewling mess. What you’re really trying to do here is test the limits of her patience, see how much teasing that small, tight body can really take before her will breaks. It’s a sadistic game you’re playing, but you know that she’s enjoying it as much as you are, even though she is practically screaming at you to stick your digits inside her already.

If there’s anything that this world has taught you, it’s that patience is often rewarding. In this case: Chaewon’s patience was rewarded with the fulfilment of her request. The moan that leaves her half-parted lips is one of satisfaction as you dig your digits into her waiting depths, and they soak in her juices for a minute or two before they start to explore. Her nails dig into your scalp when your fingers dig into the soft flesh on the roof of her pussy. Your name flies out from her lips in a tone of surprise, like she’s taken aback by the fact you remember the exact spot inside her that makes her tick. The smugness on your face says it all, really, and you start to stimulate that spot of sensitive flesh. 

“Oh… Oh my… Oh…” She’s barely able to form the simplest of words. The pleasure you’re providing is racing through her body, filling her from head to toe with perverse need and taking over her bodily functions. You’re not doing anything fancy down there; your fingers are just wiggling against the same spot—a simple action that makes her body react in all sorts of complicated ways: twisting, trembling, twitching… It’s working wonders really. You’re amazed that she’s still as sensitive as ever. 

“Look at you Chae,” you can’t help but deride. “You’re getting so fucking turned by fingers. I don’t remember you being this needy.”

Even if she’s hellbent on retorting, there’s no space for words to leave her mouth—the moans are filling the space in her throat, bottlenecking and filtering out of her mouth in the form of strained cries. From the limited view between her thighs, you make out the image of her biting down on the nail of her index finger. Meanwhile, the nails in your head dig deeper into your scalp, hardly caring for the fact that they may be drawing blood as their owner manages to beg, Keep going. 

Your mouth—now rested enough to continue—rejoins the busy scene; the drawn-out guttural gasp that slides out of her mouth tells you all you need to know—Oh my god. You’re driving me crazy—and you can’t help but smile at the sight of her pleasure stricken face. Chaewon’s barely keeping it together at this point, the dignity that tightly wraps her body is slowly loosening—unravelling at the mercy of your mouth and fingers. The haughtiness, the sheer brattiness—crumbling under the sensations that overwhelm every fibre of her body; now that these perverse thoughts have entered your mind, you find that a dark part of you longs to own her, right here, right now. But of course, patience is rewarding. 

You’re willing to wait.

To say that you’re taking your time to eat her out would be inaccurate. If you’re to be honest, it’s difficult to describe the pace you’re using. Inside of her, your index and middle finger move frenetically, as if you are using them to press the same key on a piano repeatedly to produce the same note—her moans. Outside her, your tongue’s movements are almost sluggish, the broad base of it dragging up her flushed lips before the tip flicks the swollen nub at the top. You’re fully invested, scrupulously ensuring the uniformity of your movements to drive Chaewon to perdition. The movements are neither simple nor complex, rather a middle ground between the two (but you do feel that it leans more towards the former), but it’s enough to drive her crazy. Even if she’s a complicated mess to deal with, deep down—she still enjoys some form of simplicity. 

“Baby.” The way Chaewon’s calling you sends a shiver down your spine, stirring the emotions in your chest and letting some nostalgia bubble up from the depths of it, “I-I’m… I’m…”

Cumming, you complete just as her head violently whips back into the pillow. Then, in arguably the hottest ways possible, Kim Chaewon orgasms. Her thighs clamp around your head, becoming earmuffs as an onslaught of juices assail your mouth. You can hear her mewling past the flesh that surrounds your ears, and the muffled sound is enough to deluge your heart with depraved satisfaction while her body twitches, convulses and strains violently. The last vestiges of dignity that once enveloped her have fallen away, carried off by the sighs and cries escaping from her trembling lips, and as you lift your mouth of her soaking slit and withdraw your juice-slicked fingers, you know that she’s reached a point of no return. 

Patience is truly so rewarding.

“Jesus…” she pants. Once again, believers probably wouldn’t approve of the usage of his name in this context, but something has to cleanse the filth from her body, “When did you get so good at this?”

“Always have been,” you grin. You can tell she wants to roll her eyes, but she hardly has the strength to do so. For a tender moment, you gaze into each other’s eyes and appreciate this moment of inexplicable intimacy, re-living the emotions that were once so present between the two of you. It’s just for tonight. After this, we’ll go back to fighting, you’re telling yourself, and it makes you want to stay like this for a little longer.

But when Chaewon flips herself over onto her belly, the warmth in your chest is shut out and replaced by warped desire. With the tender cheeks of her ass on full display, Chaewon wiggles her behind, inviting you to take your liberties with her body. You take a moment to admire how full they’ve become. 

“Been working on it?” you ask her as you squeeze a handful of flesh. 

“To the best of my ability,” is her reply, followed by, “you like it?”

Your reply is to deliver a soft spank to the right ass-cheek. She barely even yelps upon contact, a small grin on her face as she watches you spread the flesh apart to reveal her entrances. Then she urges you, “Come on now… Pick a hole, fuck it till you fill it with your cum.”

“What if I want both?” You can’t help but be a little cheeky. Chaewon’s bottom lip furls behind her front teeth. 

“I’m not stopping you,” she whispers, “just promise me to cum in me.”

Not a trace of dignity in her words. 

Alright, is what you tell her before your head slips inside of her pussy. You can pinpoint the exact moment where her body almost becomes the only thing to exist in your mind—it’s when those walls clamp down around your shaft, pulsing ever so slightly and still twitching from her orgasm, and it’s enough to make you clench all your muscles while you hilt yourself in her. The sigh you let out hardly synchronises with Chaewon’s gasp. Yet, you find that your thoughts are perfectly in sync as your hands grip onto her small waist, and she props herself up on her elbows and knees. Her hair falls off her back, cascading down her shoulders as she turns her head, catches your gaze to tell you—Own this pussy.

No more words need be said. Eagerly, you begin to pump yourself in and out of Chaewon’s slick, tight pussy, her body tightening around your cock with every thrust in and out, lathering your length with juices that glisten in the low light of your room. The sound of her sighs and gasps quickly rise in volume, a beautiful backdrop to the sounds of your wet shaft penetrating her slick pussy again and again. 

You’ve already lost yourself in her from the moment you stuck your member into her, but you find your grasp on reality somehow slipping further and further with each thrust you make into that amazingly tight body. It’s the nostalgia—that feeling of being able to hold her again, the feeling of being able to fuck her like you did on those nights after you graduated high school, those nights where her parents weren’t home and she wanted you in ever way possible—that’s making you sink deeper and deeper into this new reality that is Kim Chaewon’s body. 

Then her moans start once more; you give in to the carnal emotions that you’ve been doing a really bad job at suppressing, and almost at once, Chaewon becomes the only thing that matters. Her flesh suddenly feels softer than before, her moans and sighs and cries sounding closer and closer to a melody than a haphazard arrangement of notes, and when she rasps for you to fuck her harder, you’re quick to oblige. 

Screw patience, you’re going to take what’s yours right here and now.

Your hands drift up from her waist, grip her shoulders and pull her till her body is almost upright. Your left hand slides down, wraps around her flat tummy; your right follows suit—you’re practically hugging her. Chaewon’s arms reach behind her, lock themselves around your neck and pull her face closer to yours. She doesn’t turn to kiss you—that’d take too much energy, energy that she would rather put into moaning—so you settle on capturing her earlobe between your lips, sucking on it softly while she starts to moan your name. Then, her confessions start. 

I’ve missed this, I’ve missed you… Oh god, I fucking missed the way your cock stretched me out. So good… So fucking good… This pussy was made for your cock.

Those were just some of the many things you managed to make out. The words were hastily assembled, phonics loosely strung together, and then expelled from those beautiful pink lips in a precipitate manner. There were other things like: I love you, I fucking love you and Oh God I love you as well, but your tried not to make to much of it. Even though you’re lost in paradise, lost in her body, your subconscious is still actively fighting to keep her influence out of your head. Things are already messy—both figuratively and literally—as they are, and the last thing you need is to fall in love with memories of Chaewon while you’re fucking her in such a callous, unrelenting manner. Sex and alexithymia towards an ex is never a good combination—yet here you are, rearranging the insides of Kim Chaewon after agreeing to whatever it was you agreed to before you started (it’s not because you chose to forget, but because you truly can’t remember anything past the point where you stepped through the doorway to your bedroom). 

You push away the thoughts (for now), letting them exit your body together with the growl that you release into her ear—Chaewon, why are you so fucking wet?—as your shaft continues to plunge itself between her slick, wet folds. The cheeks of her ass ripple deliciously with each strike of your crotch against hers, eliciting a raunchy exclamation from her body each time she hilts you to the base of your cock. You’re not going particularly fast—Chaewon suddenly has the capacity to reply, I’m always wet for you, baby—but you’re so utterly deep inside her that it’s driving the both of you to perverted elation. The position compromises your speed, but you know for a fact that Chaewon is more than happy to make the trade off, savouring the feel of every inch of you filling her insides at a considerate yet fervent pace. 

“Baby.” Her pet name for you is really doing dangerous things to your feelings, “Harder. Let me feel all of you, just like last time.”

She turns her head to meet your gaze, and it’s only then that you see the tears streaming down her cheeks. Your best guess: just like how nostalgia has its effect on you, it's impacting her too. Her emotions are being dallied with, just as yours are. She’s feeling things that she can’t describe, and she doesn’t know if it’s the rock-hard meat drilling in and out of her that’s making her feel this way, or if it's the fact that she may very well be falling for you again. You may never fully comprehend the intricate workings of human emotions, but as you lean in and gently draw her lips to yours, you hope to help her make sense of her feelings.

Why does she always make things messier than they have to be, your asking yourself, all while her hand finds your left cheek, gripping it tightly as your lips part and she whispers, “Fucking own me. Make this pussy yours, just like you used to.”

Just like last time, just like you used to—two statements that unwittingly conveyed that she’s dabbling in the past in a foolhardy manner. Damn it Chae… Why are you doing this? You’re thinking, even as you’re riotously making her bouncing breasts you handlebars, pinching her stiff peaks with between the gap of your middle and forefinger as you double down on her. You’re wondering, Why do you have to make this so damn complicated, as she leans back into you, and you mark the skin of her neck with your lips. Why couldn’t you just wait for me? Things wouldn’t have to be this way if you just had some damn patience, you’re pondering, all while she starts to throw herself back onto your cock. It’s hard to tell if she truly understands the emotional state she’s put herself in, you tell yourself. The irony of this statement is not lost on you, and you’re inwardly chortling at yourself as you pull yourself out of your own head.

You return to reality, and you find that Chaewon’s cumming once more. Did she announce its arrival? You don’t know. All you know is that her pussy is tightening rapidly around you, her body is shivering and shuddering against you, and her knees start giving out on her. You steady her against your chest, slowing yourself to a halt as you realise how dangerously close to the edge you are. 

When she taps you on the knee, you take it as a sign to gently lay her back down on the bed. With her belly flat against the mattress, Kim Chaewon reaches behind her and spreads her asscheeks with her fingers. She gives you the slightest of nods; you pull out of her freshly fucked pussy, point the head of your cock at the opening of her ass, and begin to press forward.

Chaewon gasps as your head presses against her tight opening, her body refusing to let you in at first—but you press forward with your hips, slowly parting her entrance. Chaewon squirms and quivers as her opening slowly parts, and soon you are finally inside her. Her hands tighten into fists, scrunching up your bed sheets; a grimace of pain overtakes her partially turned head as you penetrate her ass for the first time. She lets a long hiss escape her lips, and you lean down to kiss the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her, bringing your left hand to match hers on the bed, covering her small hand with your own.

Soon you are halfway inside her ass, and you go no further, letting her get used to the new penetration. When you stop moving, Chaewon lets out a long breath that she didn’t know she was holding.

“You okay?” You’re checking on her out of genuine concern. It’s basic human decency, you’re trying to tell yourself, but you have a sinking feeling that she’s unknowingly broken past your defences. 

“Fuck,” she spits, “fuck you’re so big inside me.”

“Do you want to—”

“Fuck no,” she snaps, “fuck, please don’t stop. I want this. I want you. I want you in my ass.”

The soft sigh you let out makes the hair atop her head flail a little as she wipes the tears from her cheeks. She isn’t crying anymore, but she certainly seems a little embarrassed that she let her emotions get the better of her. 

“Keep going.” She can’t seem to raise her head as she speaks, “Fill me, please…”

Basic human decency drives you to compliance, and so you press forward—all the while, your eyes are affixed to the back of her head, your left hand still grasping hers while she shifts around slightly, adjusting herself to take you in better. The small yelps she occasionally lets slip tells you that she’s in discomfort, but not enough to make you stop entering her asshole. It’s too late to turn back now anyway.

It felt like years, but soon you're fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Chaewon’s ass.

You slowly draw your shaft outside of Chaewon’s tightly gripping ass for the first time, and once it is halfway out, you slowly push back inside her. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and soon you are slowly pumping in and out of her body, your pace relaxed as you enjoy the tight, hot flesh of Chaewon’s body wrapped around your cock. You’re glad that the sheer sublimity of the sensation is removing your ability to think, allowing you to steep yourself in the moment with a turmoil free mind.

Chaewon’s tightness is overwhelming to say the least. Her pussy was tight, but her ass on another level altogether. Not as wet, of course, but almost overwhelmingly tight and hot, grasping you tightly with each entrance and exit like a glove. This would be the first time you’re entering her like this, and you aren’t sure if you’re doing it right, but soon she’s taking you in and out of her ass smoothly, the pain and discomfort of your initial penetration quickly lessening and giving way to the novel, new sensation of pleasure from having her ass filled.

Chaewon lets a short, sharp gasp escape her lips when you fill her to the hilt—one that takes her by surprise given the slight look of shock that you make out on her features. You reach down with your right hand, gingerly grip her chin and tilt her face up so you can get a better look at her face. Her eyes are glazed over now with pleasure, locking to yours as you start pumping in and out of her asshole. After a while her gasps lessen and then end completely as she becomes used to the hard length pumping in and out of her butt. She reaches up with her right hand to hold yours, and she pulls it down her chin until it’s at her throat. You didn’t know she was into choking, and she had never made you do it before. Then again, you’ve never had her ass before either—there’s a first for everything.

You feel her warm neck pulsing beneath your palm. She squeezes the outside of your hand slightly, causing you to clamp a little bit around her slim neck. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her ass to clench even tighter around you: succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you are going insane. The novelty of fucking Chaewon’s ass, your hand around her throat, the carnality, the surprising tenderness of the moment–it’s all so damn overwhelming.

“C-Chae,” you call out to her. Her gaze flickers from the wall to your eyes, and you whisper, “Do you… Do you really want me to—”

“Just fucking do it!” Chaewon gasps, barely attempting to filter the want out of her voice, “Choke me! Cum in me!”

With her permission, you were more than willing to let yourself fall over the edge at this point.

Chaewon’s hand—the one that stops your hand at her throat—tightens, as though willing you to increase your grip on her windpipe. You are still afraid of hurting her—you already feel guilty for causing her pain and discomfort (physically and emotionally). But her hand on top of yours, clasped around her throat, dismissed any worry you may have had about taking things too far. Your orgasm beckons, and the hand around Chaewon’s pale throat tightens involuntarily with each thrust in her hot, tight hole.

Do it… own me—her voice is straining—Make yours again. Choke me while you fuck my ass… Use me! Fill me… Fill my ass with your cum!

With a few final, short, hard thrusts into Chaewon’s ass, you bury yourself as deep inside her as you can before finally letting go. Thick, hot cum spurts from your shaft into Chaewon’s willing depths, her hot, tight ass squeezing and pulsing around your cock as if milking every last drop from you. As you cum, your hand around her throat involuntarily tightens, and the moan that escapes Chaewon’s throat turns into a gasp—the dark part of you takes obscene pleasure in that fact.

Both of your bodies quiver and shake as the intense pleasure of your orgasm overwhelms your senses. It seems to last forever—longer than any other orgasm you’ve had. Nothing else exists for those long seconds, aside from Chaewon’s shaking body beneath you and the hot mess you’ve made inside her.

Your cock pulses a few final times as your orgasm slowly subsides and releases the last spurts of cum into Chaewon’s body and you regretfully come down from your high. After a few more seconds of treasuring the feel of the hot, creamy mess you’ve left inside her, you slowly draw your half-soft cock out of her body. Within seconds, white, pearly semen begins to leak out of her and onto the reddened, sore cheeks of her ass. Your eyes remain glued to Chaewon’s still-quivering form as she tries and mostly fails to collect herself. Slowly, she turns on her side, her whole body heaving like she’s completed a marathon. Her inner thighs glisten, your juices and hers flow down her naked skin. It's now that you remember what you agreed to before you started: Just for tonight…

“Hey…” Her voice has a lilt as she beckons you to her side. “Cuddle with me… Just for tonight.”

There she goes again.

Yeah, right... you sigh inwardly. The way she's looking at you tells you that the feelings brought forth tonight will persist as long as she permits. Maybe, just maybe, you should have turned her down, made her come as she was, and kept her at a distance; but she’s already snuggled up in your arms by the time you finish this train of thought. She kisses you on your jaw, then on your neck, then utters a soft good night baby before nuzzling herself into the crook of your neck.

Physically and emotionally, you've made a mess of her. And, in turn, she's made a mess of you too—physically and emotionally.

But you choose to forget that, just for tonight.

***

She slips out of your apartment at God knows what time, leaving like a thief in the night and leaving a note in her wake: I took one of your shirts. Will return it if I feel like it. 

Then below the message: P.S. Forget that last night happened. Go continue being a player. 

“I… Can’t believe this bitch.” You’re leaning against the door—the place where she’d stuck on the note—as you finish reading it. You decide to crumple it and toss it away—it’s the easiest thing to forget about her anyway. 

To be clear: You had no clue what your opinion on Chaewon was anymore, nor did you know what your status with her was (though the note suggests that she’s going to return to her usual bratty behaviour). Sometimes, you wish that there could be a bright digital sign perpetually hanging above her head, providing interpretations to her erratic behaviour. 

Yea… That would be great.

Just as you throw out her bowl of fried rice, there comes a knock on your door. You’re surprised to find Hwang Yeji standing there by herself. 

“O-Oh… Yeji,” you mutter. 

“That has to be the most asinine statement I’ve ever heard,” she derides. You purse your lips and scratch the back of your head, then you ask, “Do you uh… Need to borrow something?”

Yeji sighs and shakes her head. She’s quick to get to the point, “Are you free this afternoon?”

You nod, then she tells you, “I need you to follow me somewhere today. Meet me in the lobby at 3pm.”

She’s about to leave you with that vague request, but you’re quick to ask what this is about. It’s unwonted of her to suddenly request to meet you, and you’re painfully aware (or at least you thought you were) that she knows that this is unprecedented of her. Laconic and biting as ever, she turns back to you and tells you: I need you to help me talk to someone.

“W-Who?” You’re quick to ask. She turns her back to you as she answers.

“My junior. She wants to be our saxophonist.”

_________________________

What is popping gang. I did not get a chance to look through this thoroughly, nor was I able to get anyone to beta read for me :p. Hope you didn't have your bars raised to high for this.

~Nichuuu

[nichuuu]

Own

Word count: 4k+ Thank you to @gangplanksorenji for proofreading & editing and @capslocked for the wonderful tips. Luv you guys < 3

Fuck. 

The expletive leaves your mouth right as Hanni’s tongue makes contact against the base of your shaft. She slides up, licking you up from base to tip. It was inane of you to think that the first thing a global icon like Pham Hanni would want to do after a long week was to take a shower, and you only realised this a second after Hanni dropped down to her knees and undid the string of your sweatpants, the former happening a meagre few seconds after she’d entered. Now here she is, her skin still glistening with sweat from her dance practice earlier as she lathers your shaft in spit. 

“Hello.” A simple greeting contrasts the intricate movements of her tongue, the one that swirled and curled around your shaft, slathering every inch of it in glossy, gooey spit. Her voice, her tone—every vowel, every consonant, every word (down to the last syllable), drips with lust. Well she’s needy today, you muse internally. As soon as she stepped through your apartment door, her hands were already on your waistband and chest, forcing the door shut with your body. The wantonness was ever so apparent in those eyes—the ones that looked up at you as she took her time to tease you. Through the jolts of pleasure that shoot up your spine, you manage a strained hey. 

A playful hand snakes up, grabs you by the balls. Her eyes gleam. 

“You’re full,” she comments. The hand begins a gentle massage of your low hanging fruits. “Been holding it in? To unload inside of you, is what you really want to say. Instead, what comes out is just a simple, raspy yep. The electricity in your veins overrides your brain’s functions, rendering you unable to translate your thoughts into words. The source of this problem is, of course, Hanni, but it's not as if she already knew the effect she had on you; the give away was the look of mischief on her face as her small hand wraps itself around your shaft, pumping with slow, teasing strokes as she let her breath linger around the head of your dick. The next question comes after she delivers a small kiss to your member: How long?

As her lips wrap themselves around you, your hands balled into fists against the door. She expects an answer out of you, but there isn’t much room for thinking when there’s a tight seal around your twitching shaft. For a moment, you think about just grabbing on tight to her skull and fucking her face right there and there. Why couldn’t you? Your shaft was already halfway into her mouth, your hands just centimetres away from her head, a simple motion—Reach forward, grip, thrust—was all you needed. But the control that Hanni has over you liquifies that desire, melting it into nothing but a puddle of a notion in your mind. 

“A-A week,” you miraculously manage to reply. Her eyebrows raise, your shaft sliding right back out of her mouth. The twitching meat rests against her cheek as she stares up at you. 

“A week?” Her lips pout as she speaks. You want those pouty, plump lips to shower your cock with kisses so badly. “You must have,” she slaps your head against the soft flesh on her face, “quite the load for me then.”

If she keeps this up, you have a feeling that the load she’ll get will be a lot bigger than what she expected. Of course, you keep this to yourself. You find it congenial to watch as she pumps your cock with your head resting against her cheek. 

“You know what I really want?” It’s a rhetorical question from her really. You knew exactly what she expected from the moment your dick came out of your underwear; I wanna bounce on your dick, I wanna take you in my ass, I want you to fuck me—All variations of the simple message: Fucking ravish me with your cock.

You know what she wanted, down to the last minute detail. Yet you shake your head. This is more than a simple test of your knowledge on her—it’s a game, a game to see who will follow who’s lead. Right now, it is Hanni who is in charge, this unspoken agreement made between the both of you from the moment she took your cock in her mouth. 

She rises from her knees, takes a step closer. Whispers, “I want you to fucking fill me.”

That’s a new one.

In your opinion, the cussing in the sentence was a bit excessive, but it doesn’t take away from the sheer intensity of the lust that bleeds through her words. Then she drags you by the cock, callous in her mannerism as she pulls you towards the couch. Barely ten minutes after she entered your apartment and she’s already getting right to it, and you are genuinely surprised that she didn’t begin her attempts to draw a thick load out of you at the door.

She tosses you onto the couch, then quickly takes her position between your legs. You have to remind yourself to breathe when those lips take you back into her hot, wet mouth; you force yourself to not break right there and then as she draws upwards with her lips and lets them slide over the head of your shaft. She was playing with you, toying with the rock hard meat between your legs to let the blood flow to all the right parts of your body. All you can do is let out a soft drawl—Fuck Hanni—as she slowly kisses up your shaft, doing what you wished she would do while you were still standing at the door. Her lips make contact with your dick more times than you can count. Her eyes sparkle, the corners of her lips upturned into an innocent smile. She’s intentionally breathing a little harder than usual, letting her breath tingle the head of your cock, 

The wink she gives you tells you that she’s about to take you for a ride. She doesn’t disappoint, the groan that rips through your throat being the sordid tell that she’s off to a great start. She lets her lips travel down your length—further and further till she realises that she can’t go down anymore, retraces her steps, goes down again. All of this is rinsed and repeated (and it isn’t done slowly, mind you) as drool accumulates on your cock, the fervent gurgling that emulates from the depths of Hanni’s throat telling you that she’s perfectly fine the way she is. 

Then she adds her hand, fingers twisting around your slick dick in a corkscrew motion: pumping, stroking, fucking milking you to the best of her ability. She’s pushing you past your limits, overwhelming you with all the sensations she would wreak upon you with what she had available. Your first thought was to grab her by the wrist, pump your shaft even faster with those slender fingers, but then she reads your mind, doing it for you better and faster than you could ever imagine. It slides up and down, up and down together with her lips, spit smiling out between the gaps between her fingers. 

Hanni had given you head before (not that it did anything to blunt the utter pleasure that she was able to impart on your body) and it was always done in earnest. She makes it seem so effortless, smooth in her movements and consistent in speed. Many nights you’d receive head from her just like this, but the sight of that jet-black lock of hair bobbing between your legs, the sound of the lewd gurgling and slurping, the feel of that tight seal around your cock that was her lips… None of it ever got old. 

She kept it so fresh, so… Well, not exactly clean.

Your hand finds itself on the top of her head, the familiar motion of pushing down on it each time she bottoms out executed as you always did. Now, it should be noted that Hanni’s a very thorough person. When she cleans, she cleans thoroughly. When she examines, she examines thoroughly. And now, when she sucks dick, she sucks it thoroughly. Her mouth was warm, tight and so very wet. It slicked your shaft with spit, leaving a glistening trail that was repainted and retraced with even more of her saliva, plump pink lips cramming in every bit of cock that she could fit into that hot little mouth, and by god could take you in. 

Like you said—She was so very thorough. 

Her eyes—those dark brown orbs that reflected nothing but lust—stay trained on you, beseeching you to keep your attention on her as she slobbered on your shaft. Her tongue cushions your base, the top of her mouth directing your cock into her throat. She moves deftly, taking you in and out of that mouth with measure, fervent and pace. Hungry is your initial word to describe her, but then it quickly changes to needy, then to fervour. Finally, you settle on Impatient, because that was the best way to describe her style. 

She was always impatient. Her style was never a gradual ramp up in pace, but rather “fast and stay fast”. The word “”slow” didn’t exist in Hanni’s books, nor did the word “patience” (though you personally wished that they would sometimes). Every motion had to be done quickly and swiftly. There was no room for child’s play. Yes, she could tease. Yes, she could take her time if she really wanted to.  But there really was no need for all of that at the moment, not when she’s bobbing her head between your legs with such gusto.

The black locks bob rhythmically between your spread thighs (there’s no cessation to this allegro) as she takes your shaft in and out of the wet, warm cavern of her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh in random patterns, each entry and exit into her lips sending spikes of pleasure from your crotch to the rest of your body. Every so often, a moan would emit from the depths of her throat, sending pleasant vibrations down your shaft and up your spine. You grunted, groaned and sighed; she gurgled, gagged (every now and then) and hummed. The electricity that courses throughout your body is breathtaking. Now you start to think of a word to describe this feeling.

Heaven. Yeah, that was the word to describe it.

You never realise that your eyes closed themselves, but they snap open when your shaft leaves her mouth with a slick, wet pop. For a second, you thought that it was over. Then you realise that you’re far from callow when it comes to dealing with Hanni, and that she’s probably about to escalate things to another level. You’re only proven right when she wipes the spit from the corners of her mouth and rises to her feet. 

As she strips, you start to take back what you said about Hanni being impatient. To be clear, she was impatient a good majority of the time. Now however, she seemed to be in the mood for a little bit of slow play. Her baggy shirt slowly rises, the hem going past her waist, then her belly button—continues painfully slowly till you see the elastic band of the sports bra that she has on. Then with a grin, she slings it off her body. Her pants are next, displacing in the opposite direction as her shirt at the same, painfully slow rate. Bit by bit, layer by layer, her garments slowly come undone. It drove you to the brink of delarity. If it were up to you, you’d have stripped her, got her on her back with her knees against her shoulders and railed her till you both came in a sweaty heap–and she would’ve let you do just that, but you didn’t.

With a very slight sashay in her hips, she saunters over. She straddles you, thighs on either side of you as she settles down. Your cock nestled snugly in the space between those plump asscheeks, the ones that you lightly spank, then lightly squeeze. Now the formalities come back into play; her lips hover over yours for a brief second before they gently drop to meet yours. She kisses you, softly, gently. For a moment (and just that moment), you forget that she was creating a sloppy mess between your legs just mere minutes ago.

Her hand—It snakes through your hair, slides down to your face, cups if for a second. Then the other slithers up your chest, stopping right at the collar before it gently tugs at your shirt—Take it off, she’s telling you. 

Your hand—Lingers on the firm flesh of her asscheeks for just a moment more, then slides over to the hem of your shirt. The other one slips in, hoisting the thin fabric up and over your head. Then they skate up her sweat-slicked, tight body. They travel up in the same direction and slow fashion of her shirt just moments ago: slowly rising, going past her waist, then her belly button–Continues painfully slowly till you reach those soft, ample mounds that sit proudly atop of her chest. 

Then they squeeze.

Her body—It jolts as her breasts are given the attention they long for, a soft sigh leaving her lips. It leans forward ever so slightly, receives kisses from you on the jaw, then the neck. As it flushes against you, she whispers into your ear, “I’ve been waiting for this…”

Your thumb finds the sensitive nub on her opening. “Oh yea?”

“In the dorm…” she trails off for a moment when your thumb begins to rub her clit in small, circular motions, but then she gets back on track, “I always think about riding you till my legs give out.”

You could picture it clearly in your head: Hanni, curled up under her covers in the dorm, her hand between her flushed thighs and another over her mouth as she fingers herself. She moans your name silently, careful not to disturb the others with her raunchy fantasies. 

“What else do you think about?” You’re curious to know more.  

She falls silent for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your thumb entertaining her clit for just a second, then she says, you.

There it is: the shameless confession. For the record, you knew that she’d get naughty with herself while she was away from you, she sent you videos—that you could only view once—of her playing with herself in the bathtub of her dorm before. Sometimes, an exclusive video comes in; her leg would be on the bathroom counter, her phone in her right hand while the left works itself between her legs. Quietly and just for the camera, she’d moan your name, and it turns you the fuck on.

“And what exactly do you think of when you think of me?” you press. 

Another moment of silence. The admissions spew forth: I think about you folding me in half and fucking me. I think about you bending me over the kitchen counter. I think about you pinning me against the wall. I think about—

She would’ve gone on forever if it didn’t shut her up with a kiss. You consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she imagines all of this while dancing on stage in front of millions of fans, or when she’s in the practice studio learning the steps to the next big hit that they’re about to comeback with. The endless possibilities deluge your mind as you start bringing your kisses down to her jaw, then to her neck.

It's when your lips reach her collar bone that Hanni finally decides to let those hands snake down and grasp on to your cock. It’s when your sigh washes up against her skin that she raises herself up on her knees. She lines you up with her slit, letting you feel the heat of her womanhood as she gently grinds her pussy against the head.

When she sinks down, you feel like blacking out. The tightness, the heat… Fuck, you couldn’t even get started on how wet she is. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her small waist, a sharp exhale forced out of your lungs like a bullet; a guttural moan for Hanni. You’re in perdition barely a second after you get inside of her, and she’s sure as hell not giving you time to adjust. 

Then she’s riding you, fast and hard. Her hands grip your shoulders, her head tilted back. She barely gave you time to adjust to the tightness of the flesh around your cock before she’s moaning like her life depends on it. Your name—amongst the expletives and exclamations that tumble out of her mouth—rings clear in your ears, her arms wrapping around the back of your neck, holding you in place like her frenzied movements would make you start moving away. 

Then for the next few minutes, it’s just fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck that punctuates each entrance, the same lips that delivered the sloppiest of blowjobs just minutes prior parting to let such filth fly forth without much of a filter. She crushes those same lips with yours, kissing you vehemently, hungrily. You think for a second about involving some tongue, but that plan quickly goes to waste when her lips tear away from yours to let out another stream of gasps. 

She was so hot, so utterly tight and wet around your cock, her hips and thighs moving with such perfect rhythm that it was quite literally breath stealing. In the sheer intensity of it all, your hands stayed on her hips, but she grasps your left hand and brings it to a needy, bouncing breast, her fingers pulling yours around her tight nipple, closing around it and squeezing it, clutching the needy, wanton flesh and eliciting a sigh from her lips. She brings your other hand to her face, making you cup it in a tender, ginger fashion that heavily juxtaposes the raw sex that was happening in the midst of it. In a way, it was cute, but only a little. 

In the midst of the overwhelming intensity, you find her right breast, catch it mid bounce and send it straight into your mouth. What left Hanni’s mouth was not exactly a moan, but rather a mewl, one that was high-pitched and so erotic that you wished that you were recording this. Moan louder for me, Hanni is what you wish you could tell her while your mouth sucks on her tit, but alas, one mouth can only handle one thing at a time. You settle with the sighs and cries that make her sweaty chest vibrate ever so slightly, content with the way her voice was getting more and more hoarse from moaning by the second. 

She grips you–roughly–on the back of your head, fingernails digging into your skull as she forces your face deeper into her cute little chest. She’s trying desperately, licentiously, to push her mound deeper into your mouth. Then the other hand slinked to your neck, pushing it towards her while she let an even louder cry rip through the air. You ponder on being playful–deliver a small nibble to the flesh that had been impelled into your jaws, or maybe suck on it hard enough to mark it. But when the oh fuck I want to touch myself leaves her mouth, you decide to divert your attention to back to her clit. Your thumb takes its original position, the pad of your finger swirling it in just the right way to make the flesh around you tighten.

When your jaw gets tired, you let the glistening tit pop out of your mouth. “Fuck Hanni,” you decide to quip, “you’re taking this cock so well.”

Her eyes tear away from the ceiling—which she’d been staring at for the past minute or so—to lock on you. Then in a raspy, airy drawl, she replies—This pussy was made to take your cock.

She could be quippy when she wanted to, and she could definitely be overtly lecherous when she desired to. In this case, she’s a combination of both. The slight tinge of haughtiness in her voice tells you: This cock is mine and mine alone, and I’m gonna ride it till I cum. Then there was the generous dash of want in that honey-like voice that says: I love this cock, I love the way it fills me up and stretches me out. It’s gonna make me cum so fucking hard. 

A woman of multitudes is what she is, and sex only brings out a few of her many layers. As she bounces atop of you, taking your cock in and out of her hot, slick pussy while she moans and gasps and sighs, you realise how content you are with seeing this wanton, needy and dominant side of her. And as she starts going down on you harder and faster, you come to realise how hot this whole situation is. 

Cause picture it this way: A cute, bubbly and pretty Hanni, bouncing relentlessly on your rock hard length that’s slicked with her spit and juices, moaning fervently as she rides you like you’re one of her sex toys, her tits bouncing atop her chest and her thighs quivering around you. It was one of those nights that she felt like being in control, one of those nights where she really just wanted to ride out all of her pent up stress and frustration as she cries, I own this fucking cock. You were more than happy to be her outlet. 

“Oh fuck… Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” That’s all she Hanni can manage as she starts going even faster, crashing down on you even harder. Her hands slip off your body, reaching behind her back and grabbing on to her ankles. She’s relying on her knees to hoist herself up now, and counting on your hands to hold her steady while she fucks herself on your cock. You’re relying on your self control to hold you back from cumming at the titillating sight. 

Her body—curves deliciously in this new position, her flat, toned tummy arching towards you and her head tipping back just slightly past her feet. She feels tighter, hotter, (and somehow) wetter around your cock, soft ‘ah’s floating out from that pretty little mouth. She’s playing with you once more, testing the waters to see what it’ll take to drive you feral. “You like my body don’t you? You’re… You’re so fucking turned on by this fucking body, right?”

“God yes.” 

“You wanna fucking ruin it so bad, huh?” She’s looking you dead in the eye. “Wanna get me on my back,” she bends back further, “and shove this thick fucking cock into this tight fuckdoll don’t you?”

You contemplate just hoisting her up into the air and making her ride you while you are standing, picturing the sight of her face dropping and rising in front of your face as the full length of your shaft spears deep into her tight and wet walls. But when… 

“But when” what?

Up till this point, there was always something stopping you from doing as you pleased. Now however, you couldn’t find anything to stop you from succumbing to your desires–and so you do, scooping your hands beneath that plump ass and rising to your feet. 

“H-Hey!” she yelps in surprise as she’s hoisted into the air. She was a lot heavier than she looked

“What’s wrong?” you challenged, adjusting your grip on her small frame to offer her better support. “Can’t own this cock while you’re standing up?”

She recognises the challenge, straightens her back before you. 

“I can own this cock in any position.” Her tone is unwavering, her ass shifting slightly in your grasp as her legs wrap themselves around you. A dark look crosses her face in the form of a bright grin. With the assistance of gravity, she lets herself fall slightly, rock hard meat driving straight up her hot, wet cunt. The wide-eyed, mouth agape complexion of surprise takes her face as she’s filled to the brim. A shrill, breathy cry shoots out from her chest; it’s music to your ears as you start thrusting upwards and into her waiting walls, the same ones that squeeze down harder around you as the head of your cock starts to knock against her cervix. 

Fuck, is all she can manage to get out before she’s throwing herself down onto your cock. She takes you in—down to the hilt, balls deep—hard and fast, not sparing a single second to catch her breath. Her moans are fragmented, split into different tones as she rises and falls on your dick—sometimes passionate and shrill, other times deep and guttural. She’s maximising her output energy for more pleasure, converting that pleasure into energy that powers the sinful rock of her hips each time she takes you in. Then she’s screaming: Oh god, Oh my fucking god, crying: You’re so deep. I can’t fucking take it!, gasping: You’re gonna–I’m gonna–Oh fuck I’m…

But it’s the declaration that really gets you, the one where she screams into your ear: Oh fuck, I’m cumming!

Just like that, Pham Hanni comes undone as she cums. The orgasm that cuts through her body is terrifyingly violent, but oh-so-wonderful to watch as tight, hot flesh spasms around your cock and that pretty little body convulses in your arms. For beautiful seconds, she is utterly overwhelmed by the sensations, until finally she slumps forward in your arms, breathing heavily. You take that moment of vulnerability to get her on her back, spreading her flushed, trembling thighs and pumping into her body once again. She lets you do that—not that she could fight it in her current state—as she wraps her arms back around your neck and whispers, “Be good… Fill me.”

Then nothing else matters for the next few minutes. Only Hanni’s body exists in the long minutes where you fervently pump your shaft between her legs. She looks so good beneath you, her pussy swallowing your cock whole and her tits spilling out through the gaps of your fingers because of how hard you’re holding on to them. Through her soft, horse moans, she eggs you on: Come on baby, give me that nice big load… Cum in me then fuck it deep inside of me. You know you want to. 

Then she pulls you close, breathing on your ear, imploring you, “Please, please, please cum inside your little fuckdoll… I want it so bad.”

And so you do—burying yourself as deep inside her as you can before finally letting the pleasure overwhelm you. Your cock pulsates as it fills with semen before spurting thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside Hanni’s tight, grasping pussy. She lets a soft moan escape her lips with each spurt, as though welcoming it, as though each one were something she long wanted and needed.

After you empty yourself inside her you withdraw your still stiff, cum-slick cock halfway out of her body before thrusting back in, letting your cock stir the load inside her, saturating her walls, making her already drenched and dripping pussy even more of a sloppy mess. She lets little sighs of pleasure and contentment leave her lips as you take your liberties with her hole, relishing the warm wetness of your cum inside her as you take your last few thrusts into her body, pushing the thick load that she’d been waiting for deep into her. 

You only ever stop moving after your arms give out. You crash atop of her, your ragged breaths hardly in sync with hers as you feel the soreness begin to creep up from your feet to your thighs. Softly, gently, she nuzzles herself into the crook of your neck and breathes, thank you.

You raise your head just enough so that your mouth is next to her ear. “Welcome back.”

[nichuuu]

Show Me

ft. Karina

Word count: 5K+

You weren’t too sure what you were expecting when you got that text from her in the wee hours of the morning.

When it came down to Yoo Jimin, a text at two in the morning was never a request to cuddle up and watch a movie. Simply put, it was a booty call. With all this in mind, you still found yourself taken aback by her bluntness. 

Now to be clear, Karina could hypothetically have half of the men in Korea at her disposal if she wanted. You knew at least ten guys that would willingly throw themselves at her if they had the chance, and they’d certainly kill to be in your position. 

She’d picked you out from a crowd of delirious fans at a concert, locking eyes with you while you were silently marvelling at the beauty of the girls from where you stood. She’d fixed you with a curious gaze, her head cocking ever so slightly as she squatted down, as if she was getting a better look at a product that she was about to buy. Then she stood up, whispered something to her members, then whispered something to the security guard who raised an eyebrow. He looked at her, then at you. 

A couple of minutes later, you found yourself in Aespa’s dressing room, seated on a couch that felt far too expensive for your ass to be on and drinking bottled water from a straw. Jimin came in just a couple of minutes later. Her explanation for your presence in the dressing room was plain and simple. 

We are going to fuck. Now take off your pants.

Karina blew you, you ate her out, then she rode you with your head between her cleavage for what felt like hours. The sex was mind-blowing, leaving you panting and sweaty on the floor of the dressing room. After you’d recovered, Karina called in her manager, who brought in a contract for you to sign. 

“Once you sign this,” Karina had whispered into your ear, the smell of sweat lingering around her, “you get to fuck me and the others all you want…”

In a heartbeat, your signature had been scribbled on the line given.

Just like that, you’d become one of Aespa’s toys. Including you, there were four other guys that served the same purpose that you served, and that would be pleasuring the girls. Each of them was handpicked by one of the girls, and they would serve the idols whenever they called for it. More than one man could respond to the call of one of the girls, depending on who was free at the moment that the message was sent into the group chat. They’d usually send a timing, followed by an address and a couple of suggestive emojis, or a nude if you guys were lucky. In the name of preserving the image of the global stars, you were to discreetly come to the locations sent, ensuring that no one—even your family and closest friends—were to be divulged in the nature of this “occupation”. Should you fail to adhere to this, you would face immediate termination.

With such an intricate and well thought out system, you were surprised when Karina had privately messaged you that night. It was unusual for her to break away from the well established procedure.

After that first time with Karina, you never really had the time to respond to the calls of the girls since they came at such inconvenient hours. You knew for a fact that the three other guys—who were all older than you—Actively responded to the booty calls, the naughty videos of their sessions sent into the group chat being your indication.

When you arrived at the location sent to you, you found yourself at the door of a penthouse in some posh condominium. Karina opened the door for you, clad in nothing but a bathrobe and a set of bunny slippers. 

“Welcome! Glad you could make it,” she smiled, stepping aside for you to enter. She offered you a beer—which you gladly accepted—then directed you to the couch. 

“Haven’t seen you around much… You’ve been busy?” she asked, cracking open the can of Jim Beam in her hand. 

“You could say that…” you replied.

“No worries, I know that life can get busy,” she assured you, “though it wouldn’t hurt too much to let us know, you know? The girls have been eager to meet you since I picked you up.”

She took a swig from her can, then got straight to business. 

“I want your cock.” 

That’s how the night with her started. 

You blinked.

“Huh?” you expressed blankly. She picked up the beer can once more. 

“Your cock,” she repeated, “I want it.”

You were a little surprised by her sudden request, and even more surprised that she’d spoken it so plainly. She may as well have been asking about what you’d been up to that night, for all the flatness and normality of her tone. 

“Why didn’t you call the other guys?” you continued to ask. 

“Why do you think I messaged you privately?” 

She was seated next to you on the couch, a can of beer in her hands as she stared at you. The frivolity in her voice was hard to ignore, the mischievously innocent twinkle in her eyes making you feel all sorts of things, fuzzy being the predominant sensation. 

“I don't know… Maybe it was to deliver a pizza or something,” you answered her. 

She laughed. “God… You’re refreshing in comparison to the others.”

You managed a shy smile. “I um… Thanks?”

Karina leaned forward in her seat. “It’s always those other three who come and fuck us when we call for it, but never you… I’ve gotten used to them, now I’m pretty curious about you.”

She folded up her left leg and tucked it beneath her right. 

“Those guys are all the same—Really horny older men that just want a chance to fuck an idol,” she continued. Then she pointed at you, the base of her slender index finger wet with condensation from the beer can. “But you… I don’t know a single thing about you…”

You sat there silently for a moment. “Well there’s… Not many interesting things to know about me.”

“Nonsense,” Karina scoffed, “everyone has their flair or some kink. You just have to discover it”

Her eyes twinkled as she studied you for a moment. “You strike me as a guy who’s more on the shy side… Am I right?”

You pursed your lips, then nodded.

“And you’re pretty young… A lot younger than those three.”. 

You nodded again. You knew that you were the youngest amongst the men because the other three had put their ages in their descriptions. All of them had nicknames, but you had yet to earn yours.

She let silence hang in the air for a moment as she took a swig. Then—rather abruptly—she asked you, “so how do you like your women?”

You hated how casual Karina’s tone was.

“What do you mean?” you clarified. 

“You know… In bed,” Jimin explained, “how do you like them? Submissive? Dominant? Shy? You have to have a preference.”

Your sex life was pretty lacklustre in your opinion. Vanilla was the only subset you’d ever engaged in, and your session with Karina in the dressing room was the wildest thing you’d ever experienced. You never really ventured outside what you were comfortable doing, staying within the confines of what you were comfortable with. 

“I never gave it much thought,” you admitted. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Then I’d like to see what you can do then.”

She kept her eyes locked on you as she raised the can to her mouth. Dominating a woman in bed was not something you actively craved, though the thought of doing so with Karina did excite you to a colossal extent.

You waited till she finished her long sip. Then, your hand reached for her beer can, removing it from her slim fingers. You placed it back on the coffee table, just a little to the left of the ring of water droplets it’d formed. 

Her eyes remained on you as she tried best to hide the anticipation in her tight, curvy frame. Her lower lip folded inward to allow her front teeth to bite softly into it, the slightest quiver in her soft, pink lips. Your hand slipped past the bath robe as you began at her breasts.

As your fingers wrapped themselves around the swell of her bosom, a soft gasp left her mouth. Your fingers worked in tandem with your palm, squeezing, kneading—Pleasing Karina as you played with her well-formed chest, the soft mound spilling out through the gaps between your fingers. Your fingertips played lazily with the nub that stood at attention, grazing and pinching the brown nipple as you felt her core flutter in anticipation. Her breaths quickened. She trembled with need.

Your hand began its slow journey upward. Your palm—pressed flat against her skin—slid up her tits, past her collarbone and reached her throat. When your fingers closed themselves around her windpipe, she let out a strained gasp, her pupils dilating as her eyes gained a new look, a new gleam.

Want.

Your hand closed around her throat as you wordlessly urged her up on her feet. You started to push her away from the couch, and she stumbled initially, but she quickly found her footing as you dragged her to the nearest wall, small hands clutched around your wrist. When you reached the wall, you pushed her roughly against it. The back of her head made a deep thud as it hit the plaster. You hoped to god that you hadn’t hurt her, but one look at her smiling face told you that you needn’t worry. 

“That’s it,” she drawled, “show me what you can do to me.”

Hand still tight around her throat, you crushed her lips with yours, frenzied, passionate tongues duelling within the confines of her wet, hot mouth. Her hands reached around, gripping the back of your head as though wanting to press her tongue as deep as she could. With your free hand you reached up and squeezed a trembling, soft breast through her bathrobe, then it slid back down her body to untie the string that held the bathrobe together. Karina let the garment slide off her milky shoulders, the glory of her nude body now on full display.

Your fingers found her dripping slit. She moaned into your mouth. Your hand tightened around her throat, her moan slipping into a strained gasp.

“Get on your knees,” you hissed.

Karina slowly dropped to her knees, eyes locked on yours all the while. They were  wide open, dripping with anticipation and perverse gratitude. You could see her body trembling with excitement.

Her fingers worked with practised grace at your pants—Unfastening, undoing, undressing. She unwrapped you like a present, the fiery hot lust in her gaze bleeding her doe-like eyes with want and desire. Your cock sprang from its bounds, hard and stiff, and there was no hesitation when she stuck out her tongue. She began at your base, nestling her entire face into your crotch before her wet, warm tongue darted out and licked you from base to tip. Slowly, she lathered your shaft with her glistening saliva, curling the tip of her tongue around, beneath and all over, licking up your already leaking juices that oozed from your tip. 

Your hand found the side of her head. With care, you gently combed a hand through her soft, silky hair, watching contentedly as Karina’s tongue made a repeated commute on the path that was your shaft, sliding from base to tip, base to tip, over and over and over. She smelt of soap, a sign that she’d gotten ready for you. It would be a shame that the work put into smelling good would come undone in a matter of minutes.

Your right palm approached the front of her head. You pushed forward until you heard a not-so-gentle thud—The sound of her head hitting the wall. The needy moan that left her lips at the impact told you that what she felt is not at all pain, rather a sense of pressure that was derived from a dark part of her. You continued to press her head against the wall as you slid your cock into her mouth, her soft pink lips parting to take it in.

With your hands on either side of her skull, you began to fuck her mouth.

She choked slightly on your first few thrusts, gagging and retching slightly at the unforgiving, stiff meat invading her mouth at a merciless pace. But soon, she got used to it. 

Soon, she adapts, her surprise giving way to experience and lust. Soon, she learned to brace her hands against your thighs in order to keep her head and mouth at a steady enough level to take you again and again without gagging. 

You groaned, moaned and sighed with each thrust into Karina’s mouth, her eyes staring up at you all the while. Her mouth was wet and hot. Her tongue was aggressive and teasing.

Her lips—Those pretty, plump fucking lips that looked so good around your cock—Were wrapped tightly around the thick, hard cock pumping in and out of her face. 

The sight of your shaft, slick with her spit as it plunged in and out of her mouth, was sublime. You can’t keep your gaze from her eyes for long, quickly flicking your focus back on the orbs that were wide open and locked on yours as you took pleasure from her pretty little mouth. They were still needy, wanton and lustful. They still showed her craving, her want, her longing. They began to water, tears falling down her cheeks as her  mascara started to streak her face. She couldn’t give a damn about the mess you’ve made of her face, not when you were using what was yours. Your cock stretched her mouth, made her jaw sore. She didn’t care, didn't even feel the pain. All she could feel is your stiff shaft, pumping in and out, burying and retracting at a relentless pace.

When the tip of your cock first pushed into her throat, she gagged sharply. You were almost afraid you’d crossed the line, afraid you’d actually hurt her. But when one of the hands she had placed on your hips slipped down her body and dove between her legs, you knew that she was loving every second of the treatment. You pushed, thrusting deeper and harder into her mouth. Your head invaded her willing throat with each thrust into her mouth, wet, slurping, gurgling sounds of her slick mouth being fucked over and over again with your  hard throbbing cock filling the air, a lewd melody to your ears as you properly fucked Karina’s pretty little face. 

Soft thuds of the back of her head knocking against the back of the wall resonate in your ears, small muffled and strained moans that escape intermittently floating through the air. There were so many sounds, and they deluged your senses, turning you delirious with pleasure.You used her, and you used her well. The minutes passed, but they felt like hours. Her mouth felt like heaven.

“I’m going to cum down your fucking throat,” you growled. The wet, wordless gurgle that escaped Karina’s throat might have been the most arousing sound you ever heard her make.

With a final thrust, you push your cock as deep as you can inside her mouth, and you release.

When you cum, your cock spurts thick, hot semen right down her throat. She gagged and gurgled, almost choking on your hot load. Her hand that was busy between her legs quickly returned to your thigh, and she quickly learned to swallow to keep pace with the thick liquid being shot into the back of her mouth. 

It was utterly sublime. The sight of her on her knees with her eyes locked on yours, eyelids quivering as she struggled to swallow your semen fast enough only heightens the sheer pleasure of it all. Thick semen mixed with spit spilled from the corners of her lips with a wet cough when she finally failed to swallow fast as you could unload it into her mouth. She gagged again, but made sure to keep your spasming, quivering cock inside her mouth until you finally ran dry and your slick, still-hard cock slips from between tired lips.

She licked it all up, cleaning it all, every drop, from base to tip. She licked you clean, even if she herself looked dirty and filthy while doing so. Her cheeks were stained with dark streaks, her lips and chin glistening from spit, saliva and cum that dripped down her neck.  You reached down and caressed a tear-streaked cheek, taking in her unkempt appearance that paralleled her usual complex. 

“Get up,” you told her, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Her obedience was delightful. When she rose, you spun her around and—not too gently—pushed on the small of her back. Her mascara streaked cheek contacts the plaster, her body arching deliciously, her ass protruding towards you. She looked so deliciously fuckable, and you knew damn well that she knew that too.

“This is what you wanted, right?” you growled, “you wanted to see how well I could use your little body, didn’t you?”

“Fuck yes,” she hissed back immediately, her voice hoarse and raspy, “I want you to fucking use me, use ever part of me to your liking…”

She gasped when your still hard shaft rubbed against her heat. Her hands braced themselves against the wall, her body relaxed and resigned as you deliver a slap to her ass. 

“Fuck Karina,” you couldn’t help but vocalise as you squeeze the firm flesh, “I love your body so much…”

“Do you?” she whispered, “then please fu—”

She never expected you to slip into her mid-sentence. Her sentence is abruptly ended, making way for a moan that cuts in and leaves her mouth. 

“What’s that Karina?” you taunted, “I can’t hear you.”

Her body shuddered as you sheathed yourself completely with her hot, tight pussy. Her walls squeeze down on either side as if they were taking a mould of your cock, imprinting its shape, size and length to fit it like a glove. Then shamelessly, Karina lets her plea tumble from her lips.

“Fuck me.”

The moan that filled your ears was nothing short of erotic when you began to thrust into the waiting depths of that amazing body. Her soft breasts became your surface of contact—your grips on her tight yet curvy body as you pumped yourself deep into Karina’s wanton pussy. She felt tighter than the first time you’d entered her, her moans even more needy than the first time you’d heard them, her body even more delicious than the first time you’d seen it. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders, and you made the effort to push it away so that you can get the best view of her arched back. 

“Fuck! Your—hngh… Your cock is fucking me so good! Ah!” 

For a long few minutes, your eyes stayed on the tantalising curve of her back, admiring the sweat slicked skin that glistened in the light on the apartment as her ass cheeks rippled with each thrust made into her dripping wet slit. Her breaths quickly become ragged, Karina’s lungs quickly becoming unable to keep up with the demand of oxygen that was needed to take the pounding you were giving her. She struggled to stay on her feet, her knees buckling under the weight of the arousal in her being. You had to step a little closer to support her against that wall.

The arousal derived from the videos of her getting fucked by the other men were a mere grains of sand—nothing in comparison to the pleasure that you were experiencing. You’d watch the videos that were taken, observing through the screen of your phone with wide eyes and a rock hard boner as Karina’s body was ravished by another guy. Her cute moans—even cuter in person—would fill your ears through your headphones at home, a rock hard shaft eliciting more cries of similar quality as the sound of her skin slapping against his would emanate from the earbuds in your ears. You could only re-imagine the feel of her warm cunt wrapped around your length, pulsing and pressing in on your member as your hand pumped you to completion. Now that she was right here, getting fucked by you right here, right now, you found that your imagination pained in comparison to what you had pictured in your head. 

To say that her pussy was sublime would be an understatement. You didn’t know what the best word to describe the sensation of fucking her was, but you knew that it would follow closely along the lines of divine. Each entrance felt like heaven, each thrust felt like the embodiment of bliss. The holy grail that was Yoo Jimin’s body was bringing you pleasure like no other, an unparalleled, unchallenged taste of heaven. 

“Oh go… M-My pussy feels so fucking full… O-Oh!” she managed to gasp, “y-you’re filling me! My pussy has never… Felt… So good!” 

You leaned in such that you were right in her ear. “Do you like how my cock stretches you out, Karina?”

“F-Fuck yes! I love it! I… Ah! Fucking love it!” came her whiny reply.

Her body began to rock back against yours, her crotch crashing onto yours. You gritted your teeth; your grip on her left breast tightened. Karina’s hair whipped back, raven black, sweat matted strands sent flying. She looked back at you, her face scrunched in an expression of bliss. Her lips, wrapped around your cock mere minutes before, were slightly parted, giving space for moans and sighs and gasps to spill freely from her throat. Her eyes were filled with need. Against the wall, her hands tighten into fists.

“Pull… On my hair,” she requested wantonly, “pull on it like I’m a fucking doll.”

The emphasis on the word doll aroused you to no end. Your right hand left her breast, capturing a handful of Karina’s hair in a makeshift ponytail that you gripped tightly. You yanked back. Her pussy tightened. An expletive comes flying from her mouth. Your shaft glistened with the mix of her juices and spit, slipping in and out between her flushed, slick folds seamlessly as you held on to that lock of hair like reigns on a horse.

“Yes… Yes… Just… Just like this!” she cried, “fuck me just like this!”

Her eyes were half lidded with pleasure, the tender flesh of her ass cheeks bouncing and rippling. You wished you had a mirror before you, that way you could watch the hypnotic bounce of her breasts as her body was rocked with your thrusts, but you could settle with the view of her trembling back. The tiny, slim figure that so many adored quivered before you, pleasure and excitement wracking her nerves and filling her muscles, occupying every cell of her body while you fucked her with deep, fast thrusts. It looked exactly as it had in one of the videos in the group chat, only difference being that it was more raw and far more lewd.

You freed your left hand from her left breast to push down on her back, the gradient of the curve of her spine becoming steeper as you forced her lower. Your cock reached new depths in this position, spearing deeper into her willing pussy and filling her in a more intimate manner. Her moans, gasps and sighs were lewd notes of pleasure, and they began to crescendo as the thick, hard, throbbing meat plunging into her tight little cunt heightens the pleasure coursing through her system.

At some point, you started to feel her walls growingly tighten. You increased your tempo, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you didn’t pull out more than halfway, concentrating instead on pumping hard and fast. Her body quickly adapted, crashing down harder against you each time you bottomed out inside of her. Her moans turned into her cries, her cries turned into mewls. 

“Oh god… I-I’m—”

She never got to finish her sentence. It took an otherworldly will to not join Karina in her bliss when she came. With a strained cry, you felt her walls clamp down, her body twitching and convulsing. Her legs shook violently, her mouth frozen in a silent scream as you step forward and flush her body completely against the wall. For long minutes, you stayed buried deep inside Karina as she climaxed, holding on to her slim waist to support her. She shook in your grasp, the orgasm overtaking her brain functions and overwhelming her to the point of speechlessness. She takes a moment to wind down. 

“Karina…” you whispered. When she turned back to look at you, you gently placed your lips on hers. She kissed you back with equal tenderness, a small sigh escaping her as you gently fondled her breasts. 

“You’ve been holding on to my tits this whole time,” she remarked, breath fully returned. “You must really like them, huh?” 

“Can you blame me?” you asked. Karina smiled teasingly.

“I can’t… All of the guys love my tits,” she told you, “you’re the only one that hasn’t fucked them yet.”

You took the hint, your cock slipping out of her freshly fucked pussy with a slick pop as you stepped back. Her sweaty body had left an imprint on the wall, the spot where her cheek had been pressed a dark spot of moisture. You could only look at it for a second longer before Karina took you by the hand. She led you back to the couch, getting you settled in on it before she took her place on her knees. 

With a smile, she cupped her heavy breasts with her hands. “You don’t have to tell me when you’re going to cum. I like surprises.”

Karina took a moment to spit on your cock, a long rope of her glistening saliva landing squarely on your head. She pumped your shaft a few times, ensuring that her spit was mixed thoroughly into the mixture of her juices that slicked your member.

When she leaned forward and captured your shaft between her soft, warm breasts, your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, everything seemed to go quiet. It was only when Karina started to move that your senses were restored to you. 

Trapping your cock in a tunnel of warmth and wetness, she began to bounce her mounds along on your length, thrusting the shaft between her breasts—up and down, up and down. You watched the scene play out in front of you, enjoying the pleasure radiating from your shaft, travelling up your spine and intoxicating your brain. Her hands travelled towards the front of her breasts as she captured her own nipples with her index finger and thumb, pinching the stiff peaks as she bounced her mounds up and down on your stiff dick. You weren’t shy, conveying your pleasure through soft groans and sighs. All the while, Yoo Jimin fixed you with a smile, one that was pure and innocent enough to make the adulterated act seem so pure. 

“Do you like it?” she whispered, “do you like my tits milk your cock?”

“Fuck yes Karina,” you hissed. 

She suddenly stopped for a moment. You felt her hands grasp on to yours, guiding them to grip either one of her amazingly soft breasts in each hand. 

“Take control,” she invited you, “set the pace. Cum whenever you want.”

For a moment, you took in the sight of Karina’s tits wrapped around your slick shaft. Then the pure, animalistic desire for pleasure took over, and you were squeezing her breasts together, keeping them tightly-knit around your dick like a sleeve while you pumped between her sweaty cleavage. She let her hands rest on either side of your thighs, a soft gleam in her eyes as she watched your cock disappear and reappear between her mounds.

When she started to stick her tongue out to catch the underside of your sensitive head, the curse that flew out of your mouth was one that was loud and resonant, travelling up into the air and blending with the lewd squelching and slapping in the air. You heard her giggle, a warped sound of delight as she watched you pump faster and faster between her breasts. Her hot breath blanketed the head of your cock, the softness of her tongue cushioning your dick against it as it made it disappeared and reappeared through the tunnel of bliss.

When you came, time came to a standstill. You could pinpoint the exact moment when the first rope of cum left your dick, smearing on the insides of Karina’s tits as your shaft speared past the summit of her breasts. Then you held your position, hot, thick ropes of semen spurting forth and creating a mess out of Karina. She closed her eyes, letting the warm fluid coat her face and chest in content, her hands cupping her breasts for you as your orgasm inundated your mind. Every corner, every inch of your brain was wracked with ecstasy, a feeling like no other washing over your body. 

You weren’t sure when your eyes had shut themselves, but when they opened, you found that Karina had resumed the movements of her breasts up along your shaft, gently and tenderly milking every last drop out of your spent and sore cock. She waits till your dick stops twitching to withdraw before proceeding to eagerly clean herself up, scooping up the gooey ropes that painted her upper body with her fingers so that she could send them into her mouth. You watched her clean herself thoroughly, leaving no stone unturned. 

With a look of satisfaction, she rose up and settled down next to you on the couch. Her hand slipped under your chin, gingerly turning your face towards her. 

“I don't think I want to share you with the rest,” she whispered, “you can be exclusively mine… How does that sound?”

Wearily, you nodded. 

With another one of those pure smiles that purged the sheer filth of the act from the air, Karina sealed the deal with a kiss. 

--------------------------

Hello, this was a pure BFH fic that I wrote, so it's not exactly the most coherent and well edited, but I just want to get it out :p. Hope you guys enjoy!

~Nichuuu

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 5: Tamed

(Ryujin & Yeji)

Being Yeji’s neighbour was more of a nightmare than you’d imagined.

Yes. The prospect of her threats of coming to your house and killing you becoming reality scared you shitless. You knew she meant every word she said. You did what you could to avoid her in your apartment complex, taking the stairs, making sure to leave the house slightly earlier so that you didn’t see her at the lift landing… But no matter what you did, avoiding her was one hell of a sisyphean task. She was just about everywhere. You bumped into her in the lobby, saw her in the nearby convenience store, crossed her at the laundry room… 

It was like she was teleporting to your location each time you left your flat. It didn’t help that the two of you were perpetually on the same bus to campus each morning. She never really said much to you, opting to shoot you with her signature glare that never failed to scare you out of your skin. You wished you could just shrink away from her gaze sometimes, cower from those sharp feline-like eyes that bore into your soul each time you looked into them. She was terrifying to say the least. 

“Sounds like a shitshow for you,” Ryujin mused, staring nonchalantly at the fry in her hand. You set down your drink. 

“Calling it a shitshow would be an understatement,” you corrected. “It’s more of a… Fuck, I don’t know what it is.”

Ryujin chuckled and dipped her fry into her ketchup. “So tragic for you yet so entertaining for us…”

She popped the soggy fry into her mouth and leaned back in her seat. The beeping coming from the Mcdonalds kitchen was starting to irk you more than it should’ve in the given moment. Next to Ryujin, Kwon Eunbi sighed and took a sip of her drink. 

“You ought to try and get friendly with her,” she advised. “If you don’t, it’s gonna be plain awkward. I for one don’t like the idea of being glared at on a daily basis…”

“How the hell do I even approach that woman?” You asked exasperatedly, “What do I say? Oh hey Yeji, I know you hate my guts and all but can we be chill?”

Putting her legs up on the table, Ryujin replied. “I think you could try that.”

“She would cut me in half just by looking at me,” you promptly shot back. Ryujin shrugged. 

“You never know… Might be worth a shot.”

Eunbi sighed and folded her arms. “Sorry Myeong-seok… You’re kinda on your own for this.”

Your lips formed a thin line as you buried your face in your hands. “I know… It makes this whole thing suck a little more than it has to.”

Karina cleared her throat next to you. “You could uh… You know… Try saying hi to her when you see her around?” 

“That sounds like suicide,” you told your pianist truthfully. 

“Being a decent human being doesn’t mean you’re insane,” Karina told you.

“But this is Yeji we’re talking about here,” you reminded her, “I barely even open my mouth around her and she already wants to murder me! What will happen if I say hello?”

Jimin clicked her tongue and drew in a breath. She must’ve remembered that Yeji had an unexplained vendetta against you. You felt like it was due to the fact that you showed up late on your first day. Then again… Who stays mad at someone for that long? You didn’t know Yeji well enough to know if she was the type to hold grudges against people. 

“I’ll try and talk to her one of these days,” Ryujin piped, “maybe I can find a way to get her to be less of a bitch around you, but you’ll eventually have to get around to talking to her you know?” 

“ Yea… I do,” you told her. Trying to talk to Yeji wasn’t exactly on your bucket list, but you knew that you’d eventually have to try and sort things out with her if the band chemistry was to improve. 

Eunbi’s phone started to ring. She picked it up off the table.

“I gotta take this. If you guys have to leave, go ahead,” she told you guys. She stood up and hurriedly walked out of the Mcdonalds. You took a look at your watch and noted that it was getting pretty late.

“I think I’m gonna make a move,” you told your band members, “see you guys.”

They all waved to you as you gathered your things. You waved goodbye to Eunbi on the way out, but she was too absorbed in her phone call to see you. You decided not to disturb her and set off to the nearest bus stop. A couple minutes of waiting and a rather unpleasant ride home later, you found yourself walking down the usual path you took to get home. As you set down the footpath, thunder rumbled off in the distance. You quickened your pace, hoping to get home before the sky opened up above you. 

The gate to the lobby was in sight, the faint warm glow from the lights within the apartment complex illuminating the small space before the door like a fireplace would on a cold winter night. The light was always rather comforting to you, it symbolised security and respite from a long day. 

“Hehe… Eat up little fella…”

Though you were just metres away from the door, the voice that travelled from your left made you halt in your tracks. There was a soft meow, followed by an even softer giggle. 

“There you go… You better lick this bowl clean.”

You refused to believe your ears. But when you turned to the source of the voice, your eyes only served to prove what your ears had made you conclude. 

The voice you heard was indeed Hwang Yeji’s. It sounded foreign at first, but then you realised it was because it had taken on a softer, warmer tone. Your guitarist was squatting before a metal bowl, a rare trace of a smile on her face as she watched a cat eat cat food out of the metal bowl before her. She giggled again, a little louder this time. 

“You look terribly skinny,” she muttered,  tilting her head as she examined the cat closely.  “You don’t have a collar… You must be a stray then…” 

She gingerly stretched out a hand towards the cat. It had dark brown fur, patches of white spotting its body. Her fingers gently rested themselves atop the cat’s head, her knuckles curling and uncurling as she softly scratched the top of its head. You could only stare in shock and awe as you took in this gentler side of Yeji. You’d never thought it’d be possible for her to display affection towards anything or anyone. 

You must’ve stood there longer than you should’ve, for Yeji sensed someone’s gaze on her and whipped her head towards you. Her eyes locked with yours. For a moment, you swore you saw shock behind her eyes, then curiosity… And then they reverted back to their usual coldness. 

“Fuck are you looking at Squeaker?” she spat. 

You snapped out of your trance. “O-Oh… I-I was just… Walking home…”

“Then keep walking home. Don’t bother me,” she replied, fixing you with her usual piercing glare. She turned back to the cat, clicking her tongue in annoyance as she continued to watch it eat. You took that as your cue to leave her with her feline friend and continued to walk back towards the gate of your apartment complex. 

“Myeong-seok!”

You turned back to see Hwang Yeju waving frantically as she ran towards you. In her arm, she cradled a loaf of bread and a six pack of beer. You could also make out a tray of eggs and a pack of sausages. The items looked like they were bound to fall at any second.

“M-Ms Hwang! Be careful!” You cautioned her, brisk walking towards Yeji’s sister. To your amazement, she was able to keep all the items within the cradle of her arm and stopped right before you. 

“Hello!” She greeted you bubbly, “did you just come back from school?”

“Y-Yea…” you answered. You pointed to the groceries in her hands. “Do you need me to take some of those?”

You didn’t expect her to thrust all of her groceries into your arms. 

“Thanks! You’re really sweet!” Yeju beamed, “by the way, thanks for lending us salt yesterday. I think the cooking would’ve been a disaster without it!” 

You didn’t know how this woman had this much energy this late in the night. Your best guess was that it was simply just her personality. Furthermore, this was her third time thanking you for letting her borrow salt. It weirded you out a little, but you figured that it was simply her nature. 

“N-No problem Ms Hwang,” you assured her. 

“We’ve been through this. Just call me Yeju!” she reminded you.

“R-Right… S-Sorry Yeju…”

The older girl smiled, radiating a glow brighter than the street lights. Yeji emerged from the alley. 

“Unnie, let’s go,” she said.

“Aww come on Yeji, at least talk to your neighbour for a bit!” Yeju argued. Yeji fixed her elder sister with a glare. 

“I would rather shove a burning hot pan up my ass,” she grunted, “let’s just go.”

Yeji walked past you. She tapped her card against the reader in the gate. “I’m not waiting for you!”

“Come back here Yeji!” Yeju called. Unfortunately, Yeji had already disappeared into the lobby. With a heavy sigh, Hwang Yeju dug for her keys in her pocket. 

“She’s a lot more cranky these days… Can’t put my finger on it,” she muttered, “sorry for my sister’s behaviour… She’s a little… You know…”

You waved it off. 

“I understand,” you assured the older girl. She seemed relieved.

“Great. Let’s go inside before it starts pouring.”

The two of you entered the lobby. She asked you about your day, how things were going—The usual friendly neighbour stuff. You rode the lift together with Yeji’s older sister, carrying her groceries all the way to her apartment door where she finally took them back from you. With a friendly wave and a chirpy goodbye!, she entered her apartment and left you out in the hallway. You slotted your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “What an interesting woman…”

You headed back to your own apartment just down the hall. 

For the rest of the week, you didn’t see much of Yeju, but the frequency at which you bumped into Yeji seemed to increase. The campus cafeteria—once a haven where you were certain that you would not see Yeji—had become a meeting ground for the two of you. You’d bump into her as she was getting food or travelling to her next classroom, even spotting her from the corner of your eye while you ate your lunch. She was icy as always, her signature look of disdain glued onto her face with super glue, silently berating you as you scuttled by. 

And then there was the cat. It appeared that Yeji would always come down at night to feed the stray in the alley near the complex, whispering to it in a hushed, tender tone. She’d be in the same spot, same position—Squatted just a few metres away from the alley entrance. You made the mistake of stopping and staring the first few times, but soon learnt to keep walking on without looking at her. 

That night as the rain lashed your umbrella and the wind howled incessantly, you walked down the familiar stretch of pavement. Band practice had ended and you’d turned down Eunbi’s offer for dinner to catch up on some work. The concrete was slick with rain water, the warm glow of streetlights reflected in the stream of water that flowed down the pavement. It was chilly. Not winter chilly, but  the type of cold that was unpleasant enough to make you want to huddle up at home with a nice hot drink—That type of chilly. The rain was merciless, fat droplets pelting your face as a gust of wind blew what felt like an ocean’s worth of water towards you. In hindsight, you realised that you may have been better off going to dinner with your singer. That way, you could at least wait out the rain before heading home. 

You walked by the convenience store. The lobby was just a few metres away now. 

“Here… This should keep you warm.” 

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have stopped to look at Yeji. But under the assault of the storm, you couldn’t help but stop and turn to see if that truly was her talking to her feline friend in this weather. 

Sure enough, she was there. In a black raincoat with her hood up, you could make out the smiling features of Hwang Yeji as she slid something into a cardboard box. The box was beneath what looked like a small makeshift shelter, made from sticks and a plastic bag. It kept the rain from attacking the cardboard beneath it, sheltering its occupant from the storm. Yeji reached in and adjusted something, her mouth moving as she whispered something to the cat. You knew that it was in your best interest to set off by now, but you found yourself walking towards your guitarist. 

“There… That should do it,” she said. She’d wrapped a blanket around the cat, swaddling the shivering animal in warmth. Yeji folded the flaps of the box—by just a little—shielding her companion from the rain while giving it ample air to breathe. You stopped behind her, holding your umbrella out slightly such that it shielded the both of you from the rain. You knew that she could sense your presence from the way her shoulders tensed. 

“What did I say about bothering me?” she asked. 

“W-Well… You’d catch a cold if I just left you alone…” 

She turned to look at you. You could only see one of her eyes under the hood of her raincoat. 

Yeji pitched the wet raincoat. “Don’t you see I have this on?”

“I-I know. But the rain’s p-pretty heavy… You could catch a cold from this.”

Yeji clicked her tongue in annoyance.  “What do you take me for? Some girl who’s weak and helpless?”

“N-No! I-I just…” 

“Then why the fuck bother with me? Do you want something out of me?” Yeji retorted, rising from her position to look you in the eye.

The air that already felt dense because of the rain somehow grew denser. Yeji fixed you with one of her usual nasty glares. You felt something bubbling inside you—A balloon of frustration slowly growing and expanding, increasing in volume as it slowly rose up from your core to your throat. The fact that she’d taken your act of kindness for an act driven by the desire to achieve something didn’t sit well with you.

“I… I just wanted to help,” you told her sincerely.

“I don’t need your help. Go away.”

The balloon burst. 

“I don’t get it Yeji,” you began, unable to withhold the frustration from flooding your voice, “from day one, you’ve been at my throat, hounding and threatening me with snarky remarks. I don’t know if you only act this way towards me, but it’s seriously putting me off. I don’t know what I did to piss you off so much, nor do I understand how I’ve been able to piss you off to the extent that you literally despise me. Please, explain it to me.”

Yeji glared silently.  Then she squatted back down and faced the cat. 

“It’s… Not your fault.”

Your grip on your umbrella—that you didn't know had tightened—relaxed a little. “H-Huh?”

Yeji drew in a breath. “Go away.”

The roar of pattering raindrops on your umbrella seemed to go silent.

“W-Wait… What do you mean—”

“Go away or I’ll scream.”

You stood there for a moment. Then you slowly turned and retreated from your guitarist, leaving her vulnerable to the onslaught of water droplets from the sky once more. As you stood in the elevator, your mind seemed to be incapable of handling the creation of a mere string of thought. Yeji’s ambiguous line impacted you more than it should’ve. 

No work was done that night. Instead, you stared blankly at the login screen to your laptop, your fingers frozen on the keyboard. The cup of tea you’d made had gone cold long ago, the condensation on the inner walls of the cup flowing into the liquid and diluting it.

Why is this affecting me so much? I’m not even that close to her… 

You could figure out why Yeji’s statement screwed with you the way it did. However, an hour’s worth of thinking made you realise that it was the desire to receive her acceptance that drove you to care about this more than you should. You frustratedly smacked your forehead with your palm repeatedly, loud smacks carrying your confusement and frustration throughout your apartment. 

“Fuck. This band is messing me up…” you sighed. You took a sip of your lukewarm tea and cringed at its unnatural taste. It seems as though the tea was affected by your mood too. You felt the urge to talk to someone about what had happened, and when it came to Yeji, there was only one person that came to mind. 

From Shin Ryujin’s end, you could distinctly hear the sound of her cracking open a beer as you finished the last bit of your recount. 

“Hm…” your bassist mumbled, “I wonder what that could mean…”

You leaned back in your own chair and sighed. “This is bothering me more than it should. Is that weird? Am I weird?”

“Relax man. I think it’s just your nature,” she assured you, “don’t stress over this stuff, it’s alright to care sometimes.”

She belched loudly. You hurried to move the phone away from your ear.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” you muttered.

“Fuck you sideways Squeaker,” Ryujin retorted. She always had a thing for firing back with remarks that were beyond human imagination. “Anyway, thanks for telling me this. I’ll see if I can try to talk to her sister about it. Maybe she knows a thing or two.”

“Y-Yea… Maybe she does,” you echoed, “do you need help arranging a meeting? I can always just go down the hall and ask…”

“Shit. You live down the hall from Yeji?”

“Unfortunately. She moved in last week.”

There was a brief pause from Ryujin’s end. 

“Go get a six pack of beer for me,” she instructed, “I think I’m gonna be paying a house-warming visit.”

She followed you home from school the next night and retrieved the beer from your place. To your surprise, she’d actually bought a house warming gift for the Hwang’s. 

“The beer is simply a formality,” she told you, slinging the tote bag that contained her gift for the Hwangs over her shoulder. “It’s simply the warmer of souls, the pleaser of—”

“Just take the fucking beer and get out,” you told her. She grinned like a cheshire cat, satisfied that she’d managed to annoy you for the day. She went over to the Hwang residence without another word. You were relatively productive that night, burning through a decent amount of readings and completing two of the assignments that were due the next week. 

And then at 11pm, there was a knock on your door. You were lazing on your beanbag by then, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram and liking random images of capybaras. 

“Coming,” you muttered lazily. You rose and shuffled to the door. Two unexpected guests stood before you when you pulled the door open. 

“Hello!” Ryujin beamed. Next to her, Yeji grumbled something incoherent.

“W-What the…” you stammered. You were more shocked by Yeji’s presence than anything.

“Yeju wasn’t home,” Ryujin explained, waltzing into your apartment, “Yeji opened the door, I entered, cracked open a few beers, Yeji tried to chase me out, I pulled her out together with me, Yeji forgot her keys, here we are!”

The list of occurrences that tumbled from Ryujin’s mouth was nothing far from confusing. 

“I’m going to wait in front of my door,” Yeji muttered.

As the guitarist turned, Ryujin quickly strode over and grabbed her by the arm. “Nuh-uh.”

She dragged Yeji into your apartment and closed the door with her leg. “Let’s spend the time here! It’s so nice in Squeaker’s place!”

“She’s drunk,” Yeji told you.

“Not drunk! Tipsy!” Ryujin corrected, “if I were drunk, I would be slurring my sentences, but I’m not! Take that bitch!”

Yeji rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”

Ryujin blocked the door with her body. 

“You ain’t going nowhere kitty,” Ryujin smiled.

“Ryujin. Move,” Yeji growled. 

“Or what? What are you gonna do Yeji?” 

Yeji sighed and tried to push your bassist aside. With surprising agility, Ryujin grabbed Yeji’s wrist, pinning it against the wall in a swift movement. 

“W-What the hell! Let me go!” Yeji demanded. Ryujin grinned. 

“Nah-ah,” she replied.

Yeji futilely attempted to wrest herself from Ryujin’s grip. The bassist stayed smirking, catching her friend’s hand as she tried to push her away—Yeji’s other hand was pinned against the wall. 

“Relax kitty,” Ryujin whispered to her, “you’re being a very bad girl.”

“R-Ryujin! Don’t you dare!” Yeji warned. The panic was apparent in her voice. 

That was the first…

 Ryujin's smirk seemed to get even more smug . “Why not? We’ve done it before haven’t we?”

“T-That was a one off! I-I was drunk!” Yeji reasoned. 

Ryujin silenced her with a finger on her lips. “You enjoyed it last time, didn’t you?” 

“R-Ryujin… Please…” Yeji pleaded, “n-not here…”

Ryujin casted a glance in your direction.

“Why? You afraid Squeaker’s gonna let the whole world know about this?” she questioned Yeji. 

“Ryujin…” Yeji tried. 

When Ryujin shoved her knee in between Yeji’s legs, you knew that Yeji’s fate was sealed. You had no idea that Shin Ryujin of all people would be able to tame someone as fierce as Yej—Yet there she was, making the impossible possible.

“Anything else before we go on?” Ryujin questioned. Yeji opened her mouth, then she closed it. 

Yeji shook her head. Ryujin beamed.

“Neat,” your bassist mused, “we’ll have a fun time tonight.”

She was quick to drag Yeji over to the beanbag you were on just minutes ago. Then—rather boldly—Ryujin gripped Yeji’s T-shirt and ripped it right off her. 

“H-Hey!” Yeji cried, arms shooting across her chest to cover her vulnerable areas. “H-He’s right there!” 

“Oh relax, will you?” Ryujin scoffed, “he’s respectful. Isn’t that right Squeaky?” 

You flashed an awkward smile. You hoped that Yeji couldn’t see the tent in your pyjama pants.

“Come over here and help me,” Ryujin requested. 

“I-I… I really don’t think I should,” you reasoned, “I-I don’t think she wants me to touch her…”

“Does that really matter right now?” Ryujin rebutted. 

When you continued to stand there awkwardly, Ryujin rolled her eyes. “Ugh… No fun.”

She tugged Yeji’s shorts down, letting them fall and pool around her ankles. Yeji quickly moved and covered up her private parts. She looked rather uncomfortable.

“Ryujin,” you cautioned your bassist, “I-I don’t think we should—”

“I don’t need you being a wet blanket right now,” she chided, “if you aren’t joining, just sit out and watch.”

Every fibre of your body was urging you to just walk over right there and then. However, your conscience told you that doing so wouldn’t be wise. When Ryujin saw that you still remained in your spot, she scoffed. “Lame…”

She pushed Yeji down onto the beanbag. Yeji yelped as she fell into it, a gasp quickly following up as Ryujin fell atop of her.  Ryujin manoeuvred around Yeji’s body to remove the bra from her body. She succeeded and threw it away. In a flash, Ryujin herself was topless, her clothes adding on to the growing pile next to the beanbag. Her lips found Yeji’s, a sloppy makeout session ensuing.

Ryuin continued to assert her dominance over Yeji. Her right hand slowly made its way downward, until it reached the waistband of the simple, white panties Yeji wore. Spending not more than a second or two there, she reached further. The tips of her slim fingers quested below the thin cotton. When they reached a certain point, the gasps and soft sounds escaping Yeji’s lips cleared for a full moan of pleasure as Ryujin’s fingertips finally reached her most intimate parts. The moment that moan left Yeji’s mouth, you could see the smirk on Ryujin’s face grow wider. It was like she’d found a treasure.

From then, Ryujin refused to cease her assault on the guitarist’s body. Her left hand slid down the waistband of Yeji’s panties until the thin, tiny slip of fabric was halfway down the guitarist’s hips, giving her more than enough access to Yeji’s slick heat. You watched as Ryujin’s middle finger disappeared between Yeji’s legs. The rest of her hand covered your view—But the look on Yeji’s pleasure-stricken face told you all you needed to know regarding what that middle finger was doing.

“Look how fucking hot she is,” Ryujin said, her words dripping with lust, “she’s so fucking wet.”

Yehi let her loudest moan yet escape her lips. The sudden thrust and twist of Ryujin’s wrist tells you that she had penetrated the other girl with her fingers. Yeji’s legs close around her friend’s hand. 

“Fuck… Just as tight as the last time,” Ryujin smirked.

You found yourself squirming in place as your shaft continued to strain painfully against your pants. 

“I think you’ll like fucking her,” Ryujin stated, her voice taking on a softer tone, “She’ll be tight and wet for you… I bet you’d cum so quickly… A fucking shame that you’re choosing to miss out on this.”

Ryujin’s ring finger slipped between Yeji’s legs. You knew full well it had joined her middle finger inside Yeji’s body. Yeji’s legs seemed to have turned to jelly. Ryujin’s body covers Yeji’s bare skin, so you let your gaze roam up Ryujin’s toned back. And there, just to the left of Ryujin’s well shaped shoulders, you saw a pink nub rise and fall with each of Yeji’s laboured breaths.

Pink nipples—Yeji had pink nipples.

Yeji’s features—Usually fierce and full of anger—were twisted, wracked and contorted—Pleasure and lust coursed through her system, making her squirm beneath her friend. Her eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, stared up at the ceiling. Her mouth formed a perfect “O” as wordless sounds of pleasure left her lips.

“So tight… And she’s fucking drenched… Little slut,” Ryujin hissed. 

It all quickly becomes too much for the guitarist to handle. The pleasure of it all… It threatened to overwhelm her senses.

“Ryujin, I… Ryujin—” Yeji said quickly, as though she was barely able to form the words, “I’m going to…”

“You like being fingered? You like how I mess up your insides, don’t you Yeji?”

The guitarist’s only response was a long, passionate moan. She was suddenly unable to form words with her mouth. Every sound that escaped her was a moan of pleasure or a noise of the sort. It was like her brain had shut off, the pleasure in her system pushing the ability to think right out of her being.

“Do you like my fingers? Do you like getting finger fucked Yeji?”

Yeji squirmed. Her eyes shut as she moaned softly. It was like she was suddenly ashamed of how quickly and completely she had allowed Yeji to dominate her body and manipulate it to her liking. Ryujin moved her left hand to cup Yeji’s left breast, the index finger and thumb capturing her exposed, hardened nipple and giving it a soft squeeze. 

“Fucking cum Yeji.”

On cue, Yeji let out a scream. Her legs spasmed as an orgasm wracked her body. For several long seconds, Yeji writhes in pleasure beneath the bassist.  Ryujin turned and smiled devilishly at you. It was as if she was asking you whether you liked the little show she had just given you. She rose, leaving Yeji’s sweaty, heaving body on your bean bag as she strutted over. 

“I feel generous tonight,” she told you. Her hand grips your chin, tearing your gaze away from the guitarist before you can even take in her body. 

“Your table should hold my weight, right?” she asked. You nodded numbly. Wordlessly, she saunters over and clears a space for her to sit. Swiftly, she undid the belt that held up her baggy jeans, letting the denim fall off her slender legs. Her panties were off even quicker. 

You smiled devilishly as you undid your own pants and took your cock in one hand. You approached Ryujin, placing your shaft on Ryujin’s wanton pussy and dragging the head up and down her moist, dripping lips. 

Ryujin licked her lips. “She’s watching. Let’s give her a show, shall we?”

Grasping Ryujin’s legs, you raised them so that her calves were on your shoulders. Reaching down and placing your tip at her opening, you slowly pushed inside her. Entering Ryujin elicited a deep, lustful moan from her. You hear a soft set of footsteps approaching from behind. Yeji walked up next to the two of you. She knelt down, eyes glued on your cock that was buried inside her friend.

“T-Tell me how he feels,” Yeji requested.

“Fuck…” Ryujin gasped, unable to answer as you filled her completely. Your hips now touch her soaked, hot crotch as you bottomed out inside her heat. She savoured the feeling of being filled by you once more.

“He’s so big, Yeji,” Ryujin hissed, not taking her eyes away from yours, “he’s so big and thick and he’s fucking stretching me out… I think—”

Her moan cuts through her sentence. You’d cut short Ryujin’s descriptions as you began to move. Slowly, you drew your cock out from her tightly gripping pussy for the first time, savouring the feel of her lips wrapped tightly around your hard shaft as it tried to pull you back into her. You heard Yeji gasp at the sight of your cock drenched in slick, thick pussy juices. 

You drove back into Ryujin. Before long, you’ve settled into a slow but steady rhythm. You took your time, letting Yeji have a long glimpse of your cock as it appeared from between Ryujin’s glistening pussy before disappearing once more into the girl’s tight body. Ryujin was quickly reduced to a quivering, moaning mess as you fucked her. Gone was the girl that dominated Yeji just minutes before.

Her hands gripped the edge of your table with knuckle white grips, her mind and body relishing every thrust you made into her body. Words, cusses, moans… They spilled freely from her lips. 

“Oh, fuck! Fuck me just like that… Fuck me slow… Make me… Feel… Every inch of you! He’s so big, Yeji! He feels so fucking good inside me!”

You tore your gaze from Ryuin’s writhing body.  Yeji had begun to work her hand between her milky legs, her left hand clutching her right breast. You watched eagerly as she captured the pinkness of her nipples between her index and middle finger, delivering a small amount of pressure to the perky nubs.

With a foreign tone of lust, she drawled. “Fuck her… Fuck her harder…”

You grinned as the girl finally give into her desires. Her pleasure must’ve been heightened as she watched the erotic scene play out in front of her. You grasped Ryujin’s thighs and speared yourself deeper and deeper into the girl, using her long limbs as leverage to make each thrust harder than the last.

For long minutes, you fucked her like that. Her toned, slim body rocked back and forth helplessly on the table, her round breasts bouncing wantonly with each impact of your hips into her hot body..

“Oh, fuck! Yes! Fuck me harder… As hard as you want! O-Oh! Fuck YES!”

Ryujin is more than happy to let you have your way with her body. You knew from all the time you’d spent with her that she was more than comfortable with rough sex. Unreserved, you let loose and began o truly fuck her the way she wanted, the way she yearned, the way she loved to be fucked. 

Pounded. That was it—Shin Ryujin loved getting pounded.

You let her legs fall from your shoulders. You spread her thighs, a palm on each one before forcing her onto her left side. Keeping her right leg in the air, you continued to fuck her, giving Yeji the perfect view of your cock as it slid in and out of her friend’s pussy.

The new position drives Ryujin mad. Your first few thrusts into her wet, tight pussy were your indication. Her moans and gasps continued, higher in pitch and louder in volume as you drove deeper and faster into her pussy. The wet, slick sounds of her juices and the wet flesh around your cock reverberates through the apartment as you continued to fuck the mewling, moaning girl. Between her splayed lips, you could feel the heat radiating from her core surrounding your shaft.

“Oh god, Yeji he’s… he’s so big inside me. He’s fucking me so good!”

“How… how does your pussy f-feel, Ryujin?”

“It feels… So good… So full of his cock… M-Mmmmph… I’m so fucking wet! I'm gonna... I'm gonna...”

It was all quickly becoming too much to handle—Watching Yeji be used and Yeji watching you use her friend. Your own peak was rapidly approaching.

“Fuck… I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop fucking me!” Ryujin cried. “Mmmm, I’m getting close!”

“I… I’m cumming!” you heard. The voice was not from Ryuin, but from Yeji. The guitarist was a squirming mess on her knees, her body wracked with spasms as she orgasmed. You tore your gaze from Ryujin to watch as Yeji quivered and shook in her place, her hand working busily between her thighs as the rest of her body straightened involuntarily in pleasure.

“Ohh.. oh, I’m cumming!” Ryujin exclaimed. She took your attention back once again. Her pussy pulsated, squeezing you tightly—The signal of her impending orgasm.

“Where—”

“Inside me!” she answered, cutting you off, “inside me, please! Fill me… Fill me with your cum!”

She came first. The tightening of her spasming pussy around your shaft quickly drove you to orgasm as well. Burying yourself as deep as you can within her hot, slick pussy, you erupted.

Your cock sent stream after stream of thick, hot semen into her body. She tightened around you, squeezing your cock tightly and milking you of every drop. You let yourself savour every second of it, the feel of Ryujin’s body wrapped around you, the feel of her wet walls being painted with cum, the sound of her and Yeji’s moans filling your ears. You were certain that this was paradise.

You stood there exhausted. Soon you finally slipped out of her body with a slick pop. Ryujin turned onto her back, too exhausted to do anything further. White, thick liquid oozes between the splayed lips of her freshly fucked pussy, before a thick stream began to flow from her body onto her flushed thighs and your table.

“Oh fuck…” Ryujin heaved, “that… That was fucking hot…”

She let her legs dangle off the table, keeping them spread as she looked over to her friend on her knees. “Come here and clean me up Yeji.”

The girl eagerly rose from her knees and knelt back down in front of Ryujin’s still spread legs. She doesn’t waste any time, diving in and licking the thick white cum that flowed from your bassist’s pussy like it was a delicacy. Ryujin hummed softly, basking in the pleasure at the feel of Yeji’s tongue attacking her still sensitive lips. When Ryujin had enough, she pushed Yeji’s head away. You swore you saw a hint of disappointment on Yeji’s face.

She slid off the desk. You caught her, holding her steady as she found her footing on her jelly-like legs. 

“Shit… I need to sleep,” she muttered, “Squeaker, carry me to your bed, will you?” 

You complied. You laid her down on your mattress as gingerly as you could, making sure to pull the covers over her nude body. Then, you went over to your cupboard and pulled out a shirt.

“Where… Are you going?” Ryujin asked as you were about to head out.

“I’m just passing this to Yeji,” you told her, “she’ll need this.”

Ryujin hummed and turned on her side. “Sleep next to me when you come back.”

You walked out. Yeji had put her bra and shorts back on and was gathering what was left of her shirt.

“H-Hey,” you called. You walked over and handed the shirt to her. “You’ll need to cover up. H-Have this.”

Yeji stared at the shirt for a moment. It was one of those old anime shirts you picked up from the thrift store. It would definitely be baggy on Yeji’s small frame, but it was all you could really offer her. 

You thought that she’d smack your hand away and tell you to fuck off or something. To your surprise—and some delight—she gingerly took the shirt from you. Wordlessly, she slipped it on. 

“Thanks,” she voiced, “I’ll go now.”

You walked her to the door and opened it for her. “I-Is Yeju back to open the door?”

“S-She should be,” Yeji replied.

“R-Right then… H-Have a good night,” you wished her. She looked at you for a moment. You were certain she was going to call you a slur.

“G-Good night,” she wished back, “I-I’ll see you tomorrow for practice...”

Yeji hugged herself and hurried down the hall. You figured that the embarrassment had made her act like this. Tomorrow, she’d go back to cussing you out like a sailor.

You returned to your room after locking up. Ryujin had fallen fast asleep by then, snoring rather loudly as you silently slipped into the space next to her. 

***

“You think she’ll be awkward when she sees us?” Ryujin asked as the two of you got off the bus. 

“She’ll be fine with you, but she’s gonna kill me,” you muttered. 

Ryujin cackled. “Ah… So this whole thing is no longer my problem!”

You shot her a glare.

“You were the one that initiated things. It still is your problem,” you told her.

“Hey. You both enjoyed it didn’t you?” she smirked. 

“That doesn’t negate the fact that you started the whole thing!” you argued.

“What are you guys getting so heated over?” 

You turned. Kim Chaewon gazed at the both of you, a blank expression on her face. 

“Oh. Hey Chaewon,” Ryujin waved, “we were just having friendly banter. We aren’t gonna kill each other if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Chaewon gazed intently at Ryujin for a moment, then transferred her gaze back to you. “So I was that forgettable huh?”

You blinked. “W-What?”

“You’ve already moved on, haven’t you?” Chaewon questioned, “getting yourself involved in a band with a bunch of girls like I was never important. You’re fucking disgusting.”

Chaewon shoulder-checked you as she walked past, making sure to let her trumpet case strike your shin as well. You winced, a sharp pain shooting up your leg. 

“Fuck,” you hissed. Ryujin quickly held onto you.

“That girl is psycho,” she told you. 

“Bratty is a better word,” you replied, “please don’t tell me she’s gonna join the band…”

Ryujin pursed her lips. “Well… Judging from the fact that she has her trumpet case with her on a Friday—I’d say that Eunbi managed to get through to her.”

“Christ on a fucking pike,” you sighed, “Yeji was enough for me to handle already…”

The pain was slowly fading now. You tapped Ryujin’s shoulder. “I think I can walk this off,”

Your bassist let go of you, letting you walk forward on your own for a bit before jogging up to you.

“Chin up Squeaker,” she assured you, “I’m sure that there’s a way to achieve peace in our band.”

You sure as hell hoped so. If not—you were in for one hell of a ride.

[nichuuu]

MASTERLIST

Series

Beats Me - various idols [ongoing]

Squeaker - Ryujin

Celeste - Eunbi

Caravan - Ryujin & Karina

Settle Down - Eunbi

Tamed - Ryujin & Yeji

Come As You Are - Chaewon

Emails I Can’t Send - Minju

Yeowooya - Joy [completed]

Yeowooya

Je T'aime

De Selby - various idols [ongoing]

From Eden - Heejin

Analogous - Yuna and Nayeon

The View Between Villages - Cho Miyeon and Chou Tzuyu

Paper Houses - Miyeon

Groups

AESPA

Show Me - Karina Caravan - Karina

ARTMS

From Eden - Heejin

G-idle

Paper Houses - Miyeon

IVE

Where Our Blue Is - Rei Scatterbrain - Wonyoung

ITZY

Squeaker - Ryujin Caravan - Ryujin Tamed - Ryujin & Yeji Analogous - Yuna

Lesserafim

Come As You Are - Chaewon

New Jeans

Own - Hanni

Red Velvet

Yeowooya - Joy Je T'aime - Joy

Twice

Lemon - Sana

Soloists

Celeste - Eunbi Settle Down - Eunbi Emails I Can't Send - Minju

[nichuuu]

Where Our Blue Is

(青のすみか)

Word count: 13k+

Even now the blue lives Even now the blue is clear I’ve got a curse for you stuck at the back of my throat. It’s the unvoiced voice that says, “We’ll meet again, right?”

-

“You ever think about dying sometimes?” 

You raised your head from your Jujutsu Kaisen volume to stare at Rei. Her head was tilted up, eyes on the stars that were visible from under the tree. 

“Why do you always ask these pessimistic questions?” you couldn’t help but ask. She gave you side eye. 

“I think that’s just the way you choose to view my questions,” she replied.

“That is a horrible opinion…” 

“And this is coming from the guy reading manga at 10pm?”

You shut the book and sighed. 

“I don’t get to read much at home Rei…”

“And that’s my problem because?”

Your lips formed a thin line. You smacked her with your book. She yelped. 

“Hey!” she chided.

“Cry me a river,” you replied. 

Rei pouted and crossed her arms. “So this is what I get for trying to initiate conversation.”

“Who starts a conversion by talking about death?” you questioned.

“Me. Duh,” she retorted. 

“I think you need to polish your social skills,” you suggested. 

She snatched your book away from you. “And I think that you should stop engaging in bitchless behaviour!”

You clicked your tongue and snatched your book right back. 

“Let me be Rei,” you muttered.

Rei’s haughty expression softened. 

“H-Hey… I-I didn’t mean to piss you off…” she apologised. You waved it off.

“I’m not angry… Just tired,” you told her truthfully. The back of your head rested against the coarse bark of the tree. She shifted herself closer to you. 

“You okay?” she asked you. You nodded.

“I’m fine…” you assured her, “sorry for being so grumpy.”

“It’s fine,” she brushed it off, “we all have our bad days.”

Cicadas chirped in the distance. The lamp hanging from the nail that you’d hammered into the tree illuminated the space around you, the light swaying in the summer breeze. Rei yawned next to you. 

“You wanna know something?” she asked. 

“What?”

She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her face on them. 

“I wanna be an idol.”

You raised your eyebrows. 

“Sounds fun… But—”

“Not a Japanese idol,” she interjected, “I wanna be one of those Kpop stars…”

She piqued your interest. Rei would have these moments where she’d randomly rant about what she wanted to do in the future. One moment she dreamed of being a teacher, the next a Physicist… Being flippant about her future was her specialty.

“Kpop huh?” you mused, “listening to all that Red Velvet finally got to you didn’t it?”

Rei shot you a glare. “I know you’re grumpy, but could you not insult me for like five seconds?”

You raised your hands in surrender. She continued. 

“Just imagine it… Naoi Rei, the next biggest sensation!” she sighed, “I’ll be all over the internet… Those bullies would google my name and regret messing with me… God, it's such a dream…”

You chuckled. Your fingers drummed against the cover of your book. 

“Sounds like fun,” you remarked, “but I heard that the Korean Idols live tough lives.”

She pouted. “Are you saying I can’t take it?”

“I’m not saying anything,” you clarified, “I’m just… Cautioning you…”

She sat up straight. 

“Mark my words,” she declared, pumping her fist into the air. “I will become a star!”

You smiled. She was clearly delusional, but you entertained her. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” you joked. Rei let her hand drop back to her sides. 

“Wanna bet on it?” she wagered. 

“Sure. What are we betting?” 

She sat up straight.

“If I become a Kpop idol… You buy me lunch for a week,” she decided. 

“Deal,” you agreed, “but if you don’t… You buy me a box of these babies.”

You lifted your manga and wiggled it in the air. She laughed.

“Oh you’re on,” she readily accepted, “I’m so ready to burn a hole in your wallet!”

“Same here,” you grinned. Rei stuck out her hand. 

“We shake on it.”

You rolled your eyes and gave her what she wanted. Satisfied, she stood and stretched. You didn’t get up cause you knew that she’d sit back down just a few minutes later. 

“Hey,” she called, “if either of us makes it big in the future… Let’s promise not to forget each other.”

You looked up at her, watching her hair reflect the light from the lamp under the veil of the dark blue night sky. 

“I can get behind that…” you smiled. Rei giggled.

Her eyes reflected the blue of the night sky.

(That was when you were thirteen. She was Naoi Rei—your neighbour and best friend.)

“Hey.” 

You raised your head, blinking rapidly as you adjusted to the light assaulting your eyes. Sleeping in class was never a good idea, yet you persistently indulged in it. Rei waved a paper in front of your face, a gleam in her eyes.

“I secured an audition!” she squealed. 

“Oh… Nice.”

She pouted.

“You could at least be a little more enthusiastic,” she remarked.

“What’s there to be enthusiastic about when I have Math as my first period?” you grunted.

“Aw come on… Just one compliment?” 

You sighed.

“Fine… Great job Rei,” you relented. She seemed satisfied. 

Rei slid into her seat next to you, plopping her bag down on the floor with a loud thump. She took out her books, neatly stacking them on her table and laying her acceptance letter atop of the stack.

“I applied to four other agencies. I think I’ll hear from them soon.”

“Sounds cool.”

“I know right? I can’t wait to see their headquarters!” she exclaimed, “I’ll finally get to explore outside Nagoya! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Very…” you muttered, slowly drifting back into sleep. 

Rei slapped the nape of your neck. “Reciprocate the excitement dammit!”

“Okay, okay! Happy! Yay!” you quickly spouted. Rei snorted.

“I always have to force these reactions out of you… Talk about a one-sided friendship…”

A hand grabbed the letter atop of Rei’s books. With a yank, textbooks and notebooks came tumbling down as the hand withdrew. Your head snapped up. 

“Wow Rei… I didn’t know they accepted ugly ducklings as trainees,” Riko sneered. She was the school’s “it” girl. Gucci glasses, an apple watch, horrible personality and a voice that could possibly shatter glass. To you, she was the epitome of the word “bitch”, a spitting image of Hiter’s missing testicle.

“Give that back Riko,” Rei huffed, throwing a hand out to snatch the paper back. The bully stepped back. 

“I think I’ll keep this actually…” Riko snorted, “hope you memorised the details of your audition Naoi Rei.”

Rei stood up.

“Give. It. Back,” she ordered through gritted teeth.

“Fuck you. You don’t deserve to be an idol,” Riko scowled, “ugly ducks like you would give people nightmares if they saw you on camera!”

The class erupted into laughter, you’d never realised that they’d been watching. You glanced at Rei. Her hands were clenched into fists, her knuckles slowly turning white.

“Get a load of this,” Riko taunted, pointing at a line on the letter, “we find that you have exceptional qualities and possess a unique personality!”

Riko tore her eyes away from the sheet of paper. “Do you feel better about yourself after reading this? All these lies making you feel good about yourself?” 

Rei’s whole body was shaking. She was about to make Riko catch her hands. You had enough. The legs of your chair dragged against the floor as you stood up. 

“Riko… Do me a favour and shut the fuck up,” you muttered. 

She gave you a look of amusement. 

“Wow! Such a hero,” she remarked causticaly, “do you get off following this bitch around like a dog?” 

You turned and strode right up to her. With as much disdain as you could muster, you looked her in the eye and scoffed. 

“Do you feel better about yourself spouting all this bullshit?” you questioned her, “does it really help you sleep at night knowing that you’re just some petty bitch that gets off on insulting others?”

You snatched the paper away from her.

“Hey!” she barked, lunging at you. You took a step back, relishing the look on her face as she lost her footing and fell. Her cronies rushed to get her back on her feet.

“Grow up. Go do something productive with daddy’s money. You’ll feel better about yourself that way.”

You walked back to your seat and settled back down. There was pin drop silence in the classroom. All eyes were on you and Riko. 

“Little shit…” Riko growled, “I’ll have—”

The sound of your homeroom teacher’s heels clacking against the floor alerted the whole room. Students scurried back to their seats, everyone pretending to bury their heads in their books. Riko shot you a dirty glare before storming back to her place.

“Bitch,” you mumbled, pulling in your chair and adjusting your uniform. 

You placed the letter on your desk and smoothed out the wrinkles on the snow white paper. Once satisfied, you slid it back over to Rei. 

“Get a folder for it,” you advised her, “it won’t crumple so easily if you have something to protect it.”

Rei stared at the letter. As you unzipped your pencil case, you could see from the corner of your eye that a smile was slowly creeping up her face. As homeroom started, Rei scribbled out something onto a scrap piece of paper. With tender hands, she slid the message onto your desk. 

Thank you. 

You stared at her pretty handwriting, a small smirk on your face. You flipped the paper over and wrote a reply. 

You can repay me with a fancy dinner once you become an idol.

Rei read your message and chuckled. With her eyes reflecting the blue in your uniform, she nodded and folded up the paper.

(That was when you were fourteen. She was Naoi Rei—your best friend, neighbour and an aspiring star.)

Rei slammed her locker shut as you approached. 

“Hey,” you waved, “how did the audition go?” 

Rei closed her eyes and sighed. 

“Rejected… Again,” she muttered. You let out a breath and patted her on the back. 

“Damn…” you huffed, “you okay?”

Rei opened her eyes. She smiled, an optimistic glow on her face. Her eyes reflected the blue of the locker.

“Yep,” she declared, “there will be more chances. I’m sure of it!”

You had always admired her drive. 

“I like your thinking,” you told her, opening your own locker to retrieve your things.

“It’s the only way to think,” she replied.

“Preach,” you chuckled. 

Rei giggled and leaned against the lockers. 

“Have you found anyone for the dance?” she inquired.

“Nope…” you sighed, pulling the last book out. “I think I just might go alone.”

You closed your locker. 

“What about you?” you asked in return, “heard you turned down Suguru…”

“Mhm.”

“Why?” 

Rei pouted.

“I don’t like his vibes,” she said bluntly, “besides… I think Nakamura Kazuha has been eyeing him rather keenly. I won’t get in that sweet girl’s way.”

She pushed off the lockers and stood up straight. 

“I don’t get it Rei,” you said, walking next to her as you made your way to class. “You’re getting asked out by all the popular and hot guys, but you turn all of them down.”

“What’s so wrong about that?” she refuted, “why should I go to the dance with someone just because they're hot or popular? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

You climbed up a flight of stairs.

“Well personally… I would jump at a chance to go to the dance with a hot and popular guy if I was a girl,” you expressed. 

“But we’re polar opposites,” she reminded you, “you and I are different. That’s our curse.”

You furrowed your brows. “Curse?” 

Rei shrugged. 

“I dunno… I guess it curses us to always be drawn to each other.”

You reached your floor.

“Ever so poetic Naoi-san,” you told her. 

 She grinned. “I top the cohort in literature for a reason.”

You walked with her to her class. Your classes were adjacent to each other, allowing the both of you to hold a conversation before separating.

“So who are you gonna ask to the dance then?” you couldn’t help but inquire. 

“I won’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

She smirked. 

“It’ll ruin the surprise…” 

She left you with that, quickly breaking away to slip into her classroom door. 

“Oi! Rei!” you called after her. She flipped you off through the crack of the sliding door. With a sigh, you were left to ponder on your own as you slinked into your own class. You plopped your books down on your table and hung your bag off the side of your desk. The classroom was noisy as per usual, the incessant chatter of Junior Highschoolers filling your ears. In your stack of books, you located the newest volume of Jujutsu Kaisen that Rei had kindly purchased for you. The cover was still on, Nanami’s face staring right at you as you folded your legs on your chair. 

You peeled off the plastic cover with care, gingerly sliding out the volume like you were handling a newborn child. The smell of fresh pages wafted into your nose, a smile turning up the corners of your lips as you flipped the book open to the first page.

That’s when the envelope slipped out onto your lap. It was light blue, your name scribbled across the cover with a brush marker. An onigiri sticker kept the flap of the envelope sealed. 

Casting surreptitious glances around you, you made sure that no one could see the envelope. After double-checking to ensure that the coast was clear, you unsealed the envelope and pulled out the folded letter within. It smelt just like a new book, the paper crisp to the touch. You unfolded the sheet of paper. 

I like you. Go to the dance with me. 

You almost dropped it. For a good long minute, you sat at your seat, stunned. 

“Yo yo yo! Watchya got there?” your friend chirped, throwing a hand over your shoulder. It took him a few seconds to read the note, and you could feel his eyes widen. 

“Wait… Is this actually…” he muttered. You swallowed. 

“I… I think so…” you whispered. 

It wasn’t the content of the letter that shocked you. Yes, it was the first confession letter you’d ever received, but the sudden reveal of feelings towards you wasn’t what made you flinch. For at the bottom of the page, a familiar handwriting had left its mark. It was an art piece really, but you never ever admired the hooks and curves of her handwriting more than you did that day.

Love, Rei.

Just like that, Rei had made the first move.

(That was when you were fifteen. She was Naoi Rei—your best friend, neighbour, aspiring star… And the first girl to ever ask you out.)

“Yo.”

You opened your eyes. Rei stared down at you, a glint in her eyes. “How long have you been sleeping up here?” 

You sat up and answered her with a lazy yawn. “I’d say ten minutes tops.”

Rei chuckled and settled down next to you.

“I think you should consider sleeping earlier,” she advised. 

You scoffed.

“It’s summer Rei, let me catch a break,” you grunted. She punched you in the shoulder.

“Don’t be grumpy because I’m caring for you.”

“Who said I was grumpy?”

She grinned. “Me.”

You loved the way her nose scrunched when you tickled her. You collapsed onto the mat with her, assaulting the flesh of her body with a barrage of tickles as she giggled and squirmed. 

“Stop!” she wheezed, dodging your nimble fingers that darted in all directions.

“I’ll stop when I want to,” you sneered. 

On the rooftop of your apartment, you tickled Naoi Rei endlessly under the blue summer sky. 

Eventually, you both got tired. With laboured breaths, you both laid on your backs and watched the white clouds dot the sea of endless blue before your eyes. It was a moment of peace, tranquillity… 

“Did you get any news from that agency?” you asked her. Rei let out one of those heavy sighs.

“Yep…” she answered. Her tone told you everything you needed to know. You wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. 

“It’s okay Rei… There’s always other opportunities,” you assured her, “an agency will accept you. I’m sure of it.”

Rei sighed and rolled onto her side. She buried her face into the crook of your neck, her breath tingling your skin. 

“I hope you’re right,” she muttered, “I’m starting to lose hope.”

“Don’t say that,” you frowned, “stay positive Rei… You’ll have your chance to shine.”

She pulled away—just a little so that she could look into your eyes. Here eyes reflected the blue of the summer sky.

“We’re always so different in thought huh?” she pondered. You smiled.

“That’s our curse…”

Rei chuckled and closed her eyes. Your lips met with hers, bodies melting into each other under the clear blue sky. The only thing either of you could hear was the sound of each other's breathing.

(That was when you were sixteen. She was Naoi Rei—your best friend, your neighbour, an aspiring star, the first girl to ask you out and the first girl you ever loved.)

Knock knock knock.

“Coming,” you grunted, getting up from the comfort of your sofa. You set your Jujutsu Kaisen volume down, leaving Sukuna to stare at the ceiling as you shuffled over to the door. When you opened it, she was standing there. Tears ran down her cheeks. She had a letter in her left hand, the paper scrunching under the force of her grip. 

“Rei?”

Her puffy eyes met yours. In the pool of her tears, you could see the blue of her sorrow.

“They rejected me…” she rasped, “they fucking rejected me…”

You stared at the paper in her hands. Your heart twisted.

“Rei—”

“Am I not pretty enough? Am I not doing enough? Am I not likeable? Is my personality all wrong?”

Her fingers were beginning to punch holes in the letter. 

“What’s wrong with me?” 

She looked at you, searching for an answer. You pulled her into your arms. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you duckling… Nothing’s wrong with you…”

She stood there for a moment, her ragged breathing filling your ears. 

Then she buried her head into your chest and cried. Heart wrenching sobs were torn from her being, the last remnants of her dream spilling out together with her wails and screams. You held on to her as tight as you could, fighting back the tears in your eyes as your girlfriend’s dream died before your very eyes.

You held for as long as she needed to be held for. She needed comfort.

(That was when you were seventeen. She was Naoi Rei—your best friend, your neighbour, the first girl to ask you out, your girlfriend of a year, and the victim of a crushed dream.)

“What… What do you mean?” 

Rei stood before you. Long had the gleam disappeared from her eyes, replaced by a soulless expression that remained unreadable. 

“You heard me… Let’s break up.”

Under the blue neon light of the convenience store, Rei looked you in the eye.

“I… I don’t see the point in staying together… We should go our separate ways,” she said, her voice devoid of any sort of emotion. 

“W-What? B-But… Why?” you asked, “d-did I do something wrong? W-Why are you suddenly doing this?”

You took a step toward her. She took two steps back. You stopped. She stopped.

“We’re… We’re different. That’s our curse…” she whispered. 

“H-Haven't we always said that’s a good thing?”

She looked away for a moment, slowly constructing her sentences in her head.

“As different people… I think we should lead our different lives…” She said, sliding her hands into her pockets.  “So yea… Let’s break up.”

“S-So… That's it?” you stammered, “could we at least talk about it?”

Rei chuckled. 

“I think it’s better for us to leave things this way,” she objected, “no hard feelings… it’s just that… You’re the easiest thing to let go of right now.”

She sighed and bit her lip. 

“That’s all from me,” she announced, “I… I hope you find someone that makes you happy.”

Under the blue of the neon light, through the blur of tears, you watched her turn and walk away from you. You tried calling her name, though it came out more as a strained cry.

She didn’t look back. You weren’t sure why you expected her to.

The curse that drew you together now pushed her away from you.

(That was when you were nineteen. She was Naoi Rei… 

And she had shattered your heart.)

Now as she sat before you in a posh omakase restaurant, rummaging through her bag to look for a file, everything she was to you came rushing back in a flurry of memories and emotions. As she set the file down, she kept her eyes on the table as she slid it over to your boss. 

“Thank you,” your boss smiled, flipping open the brown folder to review its contents. You were with her on another one of those client meetups, discussing the nitty gritty details of an event organised by your company's clients. It was set to take place in Shibuya two months from now. There was much to do, much to think of… It was all so fast paced. 

But when Rei walked in behind her boss and you met each other's gaze, everything seemed to come to a standstill. Years after she’d left you in front of the convenience store, she was back right in front of you. 

“It seems like your business has a good idea on what it wants to convey,” your boss mused, flipping through reports and various mock-ups of the venue. 

“Of course. This is a big event after all,” Rei’s boss replied. Your boss nodded and handed you the file. 

“Take a look. Feel free to give feedback,” she instructed. You nodded and accepted the file. 

“Rei here spent lots of time compiling and producing these,” her boss praised. “I can see the effort. Your work has my respect Naoi-san,” your boss complimented. 

“Thank you…” you heard her mutter. Her voice had changed a lot. 

You finished reading through the file as the first course arrived. 

“What do you think?” your boss asked. You set the file down on your right.

“I believe that the plan is… Feasible,” you nodded, “though I have to raise the fact that the logistics exceed the agreed budget by a significant amount…”

“We can always handle that,” your boss assured you, “money isn’t that big of an issue…”

You wanted to argue, but your boss shot you a look. You sighed and caved to her wishes. 

“Very well then… Is it safe to say that this event will take place on the date agreed upon?” Rei’s boss inquired.

“Yes,” your boss answered before you could input. She lifted her sake glass. “Let us toast to a successful project!” 

Glasses were raised, clinking filled the room. As you drank from your cup, you caught Rei’s gaze. 

Her eyes reflected the blue of your shirt. 

***

“You will probably have to go back yourself,” your boss told you. 

“I understand,” you promptly replied, “I will settle my own transport.”

She adjusted the golden earrings dangling from her earlobes.

“Try and make some friends,” she advised, “these types of events are the best way to make connections.”

The elevator door opened, the vastness of the grand ballroom revealing itself to you as you stepped out the doors. You adjusted your suit subconsciously, fiddling with the top button of your jacket. From across the room, Rei’s boss spotted the both of you. He said something to the guests he had been talking to, then brisk walked through the crowd towards the both of you. 

“Thank you for coming!” he beamed, “we’re so glad to have you here!”

“Thank you for inviting us,” your boss answered on your behalf. 

A week had passed since you had that meeting in the omakase restaurant. Work had been hectic for you and your team, but you managed to pull through the week with just enough sleep to keep you sane. The party invite from Rei’s company came as a welcome surprise, and your team gladly accepted the invitation. You opted to come with your boss after work, letting the rest of your team go off without you.

Now as you stood at a fancy looking table, hiding from social interaction by munching on all sorts of food, you wondered if this was really the break you needed. Now that you thought about it, you would have preferred to stay at home and catch up on the latest chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen. Your boss was off talking to Rei’s boss somewhere, you couldn’t really care less. 

“Hey.”

You froze. You were hoping that she wouldn’t be here. 

There was new weight on your plate. You looked down and saw an eclair sitting on the pristine porcelain. 

“Thanks for coming,” Rei smiled, setting down the pair of tongs. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Wordlessly, you stuffed the eclair into your mouth and turned to walk away. 

“Can we talk?” she piped. You stopped in your tracks, the pastry you at leaving a strange bitter taste 

“What’s there to talk about?” you asked. 

She walked around you and stood before you. She was wearing a dress that admittedly looked cute on her, but you didn’t let that comment slip past your lips. The dress was blue, blue like the summer morning sky.

“You know exactly what there is to talk about.”

You chuckled in amusement. 

“I thought you said that it was better to leave things as they were?” you sneered.

“I never said that.” 

“But you did,” you spat. “You said it right in front of the convenience store.”

She looked away for a moment.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

You scoffed. 

“So this is how it’s gonna be then?” you mused. “You’re just gonna deny our past? Way to let me know I didn’t mean jackshit to you…”

“Stop being immature,” she muttered. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Me? I’m the immature one?” you asked, a generous amount of amusement in your voice. “Who’s the one who conveniently forgot about everything we went through?”

There were eyes on you. You didn’t care. 

“Look,” Rei sighed, “we’ll have to work together for the next few weeks… It’ll be better for both of us and our teams if we could just stay on good terms—”

“So what do you expect me to do then?” you interrogated her. “Conveniently forget about everything like you? Sweep everything under the rug and tell everyone that we’re strangers?”

The people around you were silent, watching you with a look of concern. Rei rubbed her brow. 

“I… I’m not expecting you to do anything…” she answered. 

“Then I won’t do anything,” you proclaimed. “We’ll do like you said, leave things as they are.”

In the same fashion she’d left you, you turned and strode away. It wasn’t till the elevator doors closed in front of you did you let out a small sigh. You leaned back into the elevator wall.

You had a few long weeks ahead of you. 

***

She was sitting across you, her eyes reflecting the blue of her computer screen. You didn’t want to admit that you’d been watching her for the past few hours, but you weren’t one to lie. She was focused as usual, her face full of seriousness and determination as her fingers flew across her keyboard. 

Seeing her on a daily basis wasn’t easy. Ever since the party, her company and your company had booked a co-working space for your team and their team to collaborate to work on the project at hand. You’d often make eye contact from across the room, feel her gaze on you as you wrote things down in your notebook… The tension was palpable, and your teammates could feel it. 

“Yo, what’s up with you and that Naoi girl?” one of them asked over lunch one afternoon. 

“Hm?” you asked, hiding the fact that you nearly choked on your tea. 

“I mean… I can’t be the only one that notices the way she looks at you right?” he continued, looking around the table. Heads nodded, eyes contained curiosity. 

“I uh… I don’t catch your drift,” you lied. 

“Aw come on… You like her don’t you?” another piped. “Don’t deny it, we can all feel the tension. Hell, we can almost grab it!” 

A laugh went around the room. You chuckled nervously. 

“I know that work is boring… But you guys can’t possibly be spinning this bullshit to entertain yourselves,” you joked. 

“But—”

“Let’s finish our meals,” you interjected, “we’ve got work to do.”

That was enough to get them to stop prying into your personal life. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to stop them from doing all sorts of funny things. When you walked into the co-working space the next morning, you had to resist the urge to cuss. 

They had all rearranged themselves. Somehow, your teammates had managed to get Rei’s teammates on board, seating themselves in such a way so that the only space available was next to Rei. You gripped your notebook with a vice grip, every bit of your willpower stopping you from bashing all of their smirking faces in as you made your way to the sole empty seat.

“Morning,” Rei greeted you. You remained silent and sat down to begin work. 

And that was the way things were for the rest of the project. No matter how early you came in, your teammates and Rei’s teammates were somehow there before you. You admired the commitment they had put into forcing a close proximity between the two of you, but you’d have preferred if they could channel this level of commitment into their work instead. 

A week before you were due to head to Shibuya, all nighters became a common occurrence for you. As the team leader, your boss expected frequent updates and reports from you, and some of those reports required you to stay up till the wee hours of the morning to be completed. Rei shared a similar problem as her team’s leader, resulting in uncomfortably high amounts of tension when it was just the two of you in the space. She didn’t talk to you, and you didn’t talk to her. 

But that Friday night was different. You were packing your things, Rei was still working. As you slipped in your notebook, Rei broke the silence.

“How long are we going to keep acting like this?”

You zipped your bag.

“I didn’t know we were acting…” you muttered. Rei’s hands left the keyboard of her laptop.

“Could we at least talk this out?” she pleaded.

“I thought you forgot about everything?”

Rei leaned back in her chair. 

“I… I don’t want to keep this up anymore,” she whispered. “I’m tired… I’m tired of having to pretend that we’re strangers to each other.”

You set your bag down on the table. 

“Well… Maybe you should’ve thought about that before conveniently forgetting our past.”

“Don’t—”

“Maybe I’d be more willing to talk to you if you’d just said what you really wanted to say at that party.”

Rei closed her eyes and sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” she strained, “is that what you wanted out of me? Did you want me to apologise?”

You rested your hands on the table. 

“I don’t want an apology, Rei…” you croaked, “I want a reason. I want to know why we had to break up.”

You let yourself make eye contact with her. She looked hurt, like she was the one that had been walked out on that night.

“You left me without a reason Rei,” you whispered, “You just… Left me in front of that convenience store. I called, I texted… You didn’t reply. You cut me out of your life… I could never understand why.”

Pooling tears reflected the blue of the lights shining in through the windows. She wiped her eyes.

“So why Rei?” you implored, letting a tear run down your cheek, “why did you leave?”

She swallowed back a sob. “I-I… I can’t tell you…”

You closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath. 

“I guess we’ll never sort this out then,” you warbled, “good talk Rei.”

You shouldered your bag and left. 

She called out to you, and it was your turn to not look back.

It started to rain after you left the building. You’d never felt that the weather could fit your mood as much as it did that night.

***

She didn’t come to work the next day. Nor the day after. 

“Her Mom called me,” one of her co-workers that was close to her explained. “Apparently she got drunk and sat out on a park bench in the rain. She’s running a fever now… She must’ve been stressed by this project.”

You processed this information.

“Understood,” you replied, “thank you for letting me know.”

In truth, you would have appreciated it if she hadn’t explained why she was absent. You had more things to think about since she’d mentioned it. It made you feel guilty for not saying and talking things out with her like she’d pleaded you to. 

Despite your strong sense of priorities, your focus was messed up. You’d like to blame it on the lack of sleep, but you knew that wasn’t true. You caught yourself thinking about her as you poured your morning coffee. You found yourself in a daze when you were waiting in line for lunch. You realised that she’d been on your mind for a whole day when the last team member left for the night and your report was still blank. 

On Monday of the next week—two days before you were meant to leave for Shibuya—Rei still hadn’t shown up. That day, you made the executive decision to clock out early on the pretext that you needed some rest.  A phone call to your mother and a twenty minute drive later, you found yourself outside of an apartment door. 

It wasn’t any random door. It was Rei’s. Well… Not exactly Rei’s since she still lived with her parents.

“Am I really doing this right now?” you muttered to yourself. You gave yourself a minute to think about what you were about to do. 

“I’m just checking in on her… It’s not weird right?” 

Everything about that situation felt weird to you.

“Ah fuck it.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“In a minute!” a familiar voice called out from the other end. The sound of sandals shuffling against the floor grew louder as someone approached. 

The door opened. 

“How can I…”

She stopped mid sentence, trailing off as she looked you up and down. You smiled sheepishly and waved. 

“Hello Ms Naoi… Long time no see.”

Re’s mother made a sound, an amalgamation of syllables that tumbled out of her mouth in a jumbled mess.

“What… What are you doing here?” she finally managed to ask.

“I… I heard about Rei,” you explained, “is she alright?”

Ms Naoi looked you in the eye. With a sigh, she opened the door wider and stood aside.

“Come in dear boy… There’s much to be discussed.”

She fixed you a hot cup of green tea, setting it before you on the tatami tea table that you recognised from your childhood. Rei’s mother knelt down on the cushion opposite you.

“How have you been?” she asked warmly. 

“I’ve been… Alright I suppose,” you answered. Ms Naoi smiled and nodded.

“You look healthy and well…” she remarked, “you’ve grown so much since I last saw you… When was that again?”

“It was… Quite some time ago,” you replied. To be exact, it was 8 years ago. The last time you ever saw Ms Naoi was 2 months before you broke up with Rei. You were over at their place, helping them fix an Ikea shelf because her father had back problems and couldn’t get it done himself. 

“Where’s Mr Naoi?” you inquired, the short jog of your memory suddenly making you aware of the fact that Rei’s father was nowhere to be seen. Rei’s mother sighed.

“He’s dead,” she stated solemnly, “he’s left us for some time now… Car crash.”

You blinked. 

“O-Oh,” you sputtered, “I… I didn’t know…”

“It’s alright,” she assured you, “you and Rei had split by then, and I’m not the type to tell the whole world that my husband is dead… How would you have known?”

Ms Naoi sipped from her own tea cup. You looked around the house. It was smaller than the original apartment, but cosy nonetheless. Your mother did explain that they’d shifted here for cheaper rent. Monetary problems were your best guess.

“I understand that you and Rei have… Reacquainted,” she began, setting down her cup. You shifted on your seat. 

“I-In a way,” you answered.

Rei’s mother nodded silently. 

“How do you feel about her?”

She’d caught you off guard. You expected her to ease into the hard questions, maybe ask you a little more about the type of work you and Rei were doing… You didn’t think she’d launch such a question 2 minutes into the conversation. 

“I… I-I don’t get what you mean,” you lied. 

Rei’s mother rested her hands on the tea table. Time had not been kind to her. She looked visibly worn, wrinkles covering her once smooth and lively face. Her fingers were filled with calluses, wrinkled and bony—A far cry from the gentle, warm hands that used to serve you a snack whenever you were over at Rei’s house.

“Rei… Rei has been thinking about you alot,” she informed you. “She’s been restless since you two started working together… I hardly see her sleep for more than four hours.”

Ms Naoi wrung her hands.  “She missed you terribly after you both split up… I thought that her final rejection letter from the idol industry would be the most she’d ever cry. I was… So, so wrong.”

You stared at her bony fingers, unable to form sentences to communicate your thoughts. 

“She never told you why she wanted to break up, did she?” 

You found the courage to look Rei’s mother in the eye. Slowly, you shook your head. Ms Naoi let out a breath. “After her father’s back problems got worse, we entered a rough patch. Money was dwindling, times were tough. I had to take on two job’s to keep us afloat… And I overworked myself one day and collapsed.”

Ms Naoi fiddled with her index finger.

“Rei didn’t want me to overexert myself, so she took on part time jobs to help chip in to stabilise our income…”

“That’s why she couldn’t meet me as much…” you whispered. 

Rei’s mother nodded. “Yes…”

Your eyes seemed to focus on one spot on the table. Those loose ends were coming together now, questions that’d been on your mind slowly answering themselves as you made new connections with the new information given to you. 

“I always thought that you were the one that broke her heart,” Ms Naoi chuckled, “I never thought that my daughter would be the one to leave you. She loved you so, so much… So much to the point where I thought she loved you more than me.”

There was a moment of silence as Ms Naoi stared at her hands. 

“But when I found her on that park bench two nights before, I realised how wrong I was.”

She looked like she was about to cry. You spotted a tissue box at the edge of the table. Wordlessly, you grabbed it and slid it across the table. She smiled gratefully and pulled a single sheet of tissue. 

“When Rei’s drunk… The things she hides all come pouring out. That night, she talked about you. She told me everything she’d hidden from you… And from me.”

Rei’s mother dabbed her eyes. 

“That girl… That stupid stupid girl…” she laughed softly, “why did she keep all that to herself?” 

You awkwardly cleared your throat and asked, “What did she say?”

Ms Naoi sipped from her cup. 

“I can’t give you the full rundown of what she told me, but I’ll give you something that I think she needs some help conveying to you.”

Rei’s mother reached over and held your hand.

“I think… She still loves you. She always has.”

***

She still loves you. She always has

A car drove by.

She still loves you. She always has

You walked across the road.

She still loves you. She always has

The asphalt seemed to reflect that very line. Sensory overload was what you felt like you were experiencing—The sun was setting behind the buildings, birds flew, trees swayed… You were suddenly aware of all the smallest movements around you. On the bench, you folded your legs in and stared into the sky. The sea of endless blue was slowly beginning to bleed gold. 

“I need a fucking beer,” you decided. 

And so you got one. From the nearby convenience store, you got yourself an icy cold Asahi, cracked it open, and took a small sip. You wanted a drink, but you didn’t want to get drunk. 

The beer helped to ground you in reality, the ringing in your ears slowly fading as you stepped out of the convenience store. Just down the road, a vendor was selling sweet potatoes. 

Dinner.

Beer. Sweet Potatoes. Park. To you, that was the perfect recipe for alone time. With your back against a tree and your eyes closed, you let yourself process the churning feeling in your chest. You were no stranger to this feeling. Your hand ran through your hair as you let out a frustrated sigh. The churn in your chest was nothing but a jumbled up, churned, mixed amalgamation of emotions. It was funny how one girl could make you feel the way you felt. 

Memories came and went in your head, moments that defined your relationship with Rei replaying like they had when you saw her in that omakase restaurant. A personal cinema in your mind, complete with surround sound and every single emotion you’ve ever felt with her. The blue of your past.

“Hey.”

You opened your eyes. She was standing in front of you, dressed in a blue cardigan and her hair looking akin to a crow’s nest.

“Aren’t you sick?” you asked.

“Not really. I just took an extra rest day.”

Silence.

“By the way… Is ‘Hey’ the only word you know how to greet me with?” you continued. She didn’t reply, opting to settle down next to you. You didn’t move away.

“Figured I’d find you here,” she said, “you dropped by our place?”

“So she told you,” you remarked, “I did drop by. Tell your Mom I’m sorry that I didn’t touch my tea by the way.”

Rei nodded and set her gaze forward. Before you, there were two children tossing a baseball back and forth. The blue of youth. 

“What did Mom say?”

“Not much…  She didn’t disclose any secrets if that’s what you’re wondering.”

She chuckled softly. Even though her voice changed, her laugh stayed the same. The blue of your memories.

“Why did you drop by?” she inquired.

“You haven’t come to work for three days. I wanted to see how you were doing…”

She rubbed her palms on her jeans.

“So… You came on purely a work basis then…”

You sighed.

“Not really… It was more personal than anything.”

She stared at you for a moment.

“I… I suppose we should talk,” she whispered. 

You folded your legs up. “I was just about to say that.”

You glanced over at her. She was fiddling with the sleeves of her cardigan. You held your beer can out to her. 

She looked at it for a moment, then she took it and took a swig.

“You go first,” you prompted. She removed the can from her lips. 

“Right…” she muttered, “I guess I should.”

She handed the can back to you. 

“Mom told you what happened to my dad, right?” 

“Mhm.”

“Then you know why I started working.”

“Yep…”

“And now you’re probably wondering why I didn’t say anything to you.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew that this was the time to tell the truth.

“Yes,” you replied. You heard her head thump against the bark of the tree.

“Well I… I’ll just be frank with you. I didn’t want your help.”

You stayed silent to let her continue. She did.

“I knew that you’d do everything you could to help us out. The prospect of you diving headfirst into my problems scared me, because I knew that you had a tendency to over commit.”

She wasn’t wrong. In junior high, you committed at least half of your time there into baseball, thinking that you’d grow up to be a big shot pitcher when you grew up. No one ever had the heart to tell you that you sucked mega balls at the sport, but you learnt the hard way when you left junior high without ever playing a single baseball game for your school.

“And… That was the exact reason why I broke up with you.” 

You raised an eyebrow, failing to make a link between her predicament and your break up. Thankfully, Rei was thorough with her explanations.

“I knew that if I didn’t leave you, you’d find out eventually, and you’d want to help. Then I’d have to reject you, then we’ll argue and… I-I couldn’t go through that cycle. Yes, it’s selfish. Yes, it’s an assumption. But I… I just had this feeling that I’d rope you into my mess if you started to help us out.”

Her voice was wavering by the second. You didn't look at her because you knew that seeing her cry would make you cry too.

“I had to save you from myself so… I left,” she finished. “That’s… That’s it…”

There was a moment of silence as the long unanswered question had finally been brought to a close. With a sigh, you readjusted your seating position. 

“I suppose it’s my turn then,” you mused.

“Yea… I-I’m listening.”

You’d been thinking about this moment for a while. You had a plan on what to say, what you’d do, how you’d convey your pain and anguish into coherent sentences… But now that the moment was here, your grand speech had been lost in your mind. didn’t know what to say to her. 

With as much courage as you could muster, you opened your eyes and turned your head to Rei. You didn’t know what to make of the look that she gave you, but past her tear-glazed gaze, you could make out the blue that always seemed to be reflected by her eyes.

It was the blue of youth.

It was the blue of your past.

It was the blue of your memories.

It was the blue of your love. 

Blue was the colour of the night sky—the setting of when you made that promise to never forget each other. Blue was the colour of your uniform—the clothes that you’d accepted her confession in. Blue was the colour of the summer sky—the sky that you shared so many kisses with her. So many things, moments, emotions… All dumbed down into one simple colour.

And within Rei’s eyes, that was where your blue was. The blue resided there. The blue remained clear.

“Forgive me but… I’m going to curse at you Rei.”

She sat there. Her mouth hung open ever so slightly, her mind unable to fathom what she could possibly say. A tear rolled down your cheek, summer-like colours dazzling your vision. Rei squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Let it out,” she warbled. “Let’s fight it out if we have to.”

You stayed silent for a moment, thumbing the tab of your beer. The direction you were taking with this would be a far cry from Rei’s long-winded, heartfelt explanation. But then again… The curse of you being different from her still remained. Whether it pushed her away or pulled her back was in your hands

So you looked her in the eye and released the curse that had been stuck at the back of your throat.

“I’m still fucking in love with you Rei.”

You weren’t sure why you had to phrase it in such a strong way, but it simply felt right in your head. Rei watched you carefully, as if waiting for you to continue, but you had nothing left to say.

“Is that it? Is that your thing now? Giving me one-liners and leaving it as that?” 

You could only stare at your beer can.

“I’ve never been good with words Rei… You know that…” 

She went silent for a moment.

“Neither of us have been good at communicating,” she remarked, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “It’s one hell of a problem isn’t it?”

She was right. Neither of you were able to communicate how you truly felt about each other up until that point. Finding the words to tell her how you still loved her was hard, so hard that you had to cuss just to get your point across. It felt rather bleak, even pathetic to an extent if you had to admit.

“I guess that’s one similarity between us,” you chuckled. “Looks like the curse of us being different isn’t as prominent as we thought.”

The corners of Rei’s lips turned up into a smile, one of fondness. “Right… That curse.”

She reached out her hand. You handed her the beer can. She tossed her head back and took a swig.

“Since we’re out here airing our thoughts… Can I say something else?”

“Not gonna stop you.”

Rei set the can between the two of you.

“That night, I told you that you were the easiest thing I could let go of… Do you remember that?”

It was hard to forget. She’d devastated you with that line, left you questioning your self worth for an extensive period of time. Of course you remembered what she said.

“Mhm,” you hummed. 

Rei sat there for a moment.

“That… That was a lie,” she uttered. “It was a lie… You were the hardest thing to let go of.”

You had a feeling she’d say something along those lines. But you still chuckled and said, “Really?”

Rei wiped her eyes. “Yes…” 

You sat on it for a moment, then you asked, “why?” 

“Because I loved you. You were the world to me.”

Loved. Were. Past tense. You wondered if what Rei’s mother had disclosed was true.

“And what about now?”

She glanced at you. “What do you mean?”

“How do you feel about me now?” 

Her lips curled into her teeth.

“I still love you… I always have.”

Ah… There it was. You’d heard it from her mother, you’d heard it from her. Thesis confirmation. 

Your sweet potatoes had gone cold inside the paper bag. You hadn’t touched it since you bought it.

“You know Rei… I’ve thought about what I’d do if you ever told me that you still loved me,” you chuckled. “I had a whole speech planned and everything.”

Your fingers gripped a blade of grass and plucked it out of the ground as you vocalised your thoughts. “But now that you’ve actually said it… I don’t know what to tell you anymore.”

“Neither do I,” she replied.

You caught her gaze. She held it. 

You blinked. 

She surged. 

When her lips pressed against yours, your senses stripped from you as everything went still for a second.  For a moment and only a moment, it felt like all the wrongs in the world had been righted, a void in your chest made whole. It was only when your back hit the grass did your senses come back to you—A sudden wave of sound, a burst of colour, the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed up against your chest on the grass. Your hand instinctively wrapped itself around her waist, holding her close to your body as she kissed you gently, tenderly; letting the kiss burn on your lips for as long as she could allow it.

The blasted need to breathe eventually interrupted. Her lips pulled back. Her eyes fluttered open. There on the grass, in front of a bunch of people who were probably giving you the oddest of looks, Naoi Rei had made the first move on you once more. At this point, it was made clear what you were to each other.

Your voice faltered, a hot tear rolling down your cheek as you called her name. “Rei…”

“Yea?”

Her face fit right into the indent of your palm, a familiarity in the sensation of her warm cheek in your hand.

“Please keep loving me. Don’t let me go again…”

Her hand clutched the fabric of your shirt, gently tugging on your t-shirt; pulling you closer.

“I don’t plan to go anywhere,” she replied. “I’m staying… For good this time.”

Everything about the situation felt so right. Once more, reminiscent of that time on the rooftop under the clear blue sky, your lips found hers. A shared breath, a shared moment. Her body felt warm against yours, her hands finding their place on either side of your face, as if she believed you might disappear if she ever let go of you again.

It was a gentle kiss, one of passion and of love.

It was a gentle kiss, one of longing and of need.

Your blue was becoming clearer than ever.

“Take me out,” she whispered. “Somewhere, anywhere… I just want to be with you.”

Your lips curled into a smile. “Aren’t you supposed to tell your Mom that I’m sorry for not drinking the tea?”

“Fuck that,” she giggled. “Take me somewhere.”

You thought about it for a moment.

“How does a tour of my place sound?”

***

Courage. That’s what it took in that moment to bridge the gap between you and Rei. It felt awkward to be vulnerable around her once more, to be honest and speak your mind around her. You had to re-open old wounds to re-establish that connection between the two of you.

But the effort paid off. 

With her back pressed against your apartment wall, your tongue dug into her mouth. She held your face tightly in her grasp, pulling you in, pulling you closer. She wasn’t going to let go, neither were you.

“Fuck… I forgot how good that felt,” she rasped. 

“I’ve always been a good kisser,” you winked back. 

“Now I’ve got a curse for you—Shut the fuck up.”

Your hand reached under her chin. “Make me.”

She did just that. 

Stumbling, pressing, pulling, tugging… She was far from gentle as she forced her lips on yours. Wild? Frantic? You had no words that could describe how rough she was. You weren’t too sure how you got into the bedroom, and you sure as hell weren’t sure about how your hand ended up beneath Rei’s jeans, but you knew that she was so incredibly needy. 

A smack of her lips. She broke away from you. 

“You always liked to rush into things,” she mused as she watched you unbutton her jeans.

“And you always talked a lot… Where do you find the energy to speak this much?”

Her jeans slide off her legs with ease.

“I dunno… Where do you find the energy to read manga after work?”

“How do you know what I do after work?”

She pointed off to the side. You followed her gaze to the shelf next to your bed. 

“Still into Jujutsu Kaisen huh?” 

You chuckled.  “Uh huh… But I’m into something new now…”

She smirked. “Let me guess… Me?”

She was spot on.

You took off your shirt. She unbuttoned her cardigan.

Unfasten, remove. Unfasten, remove. 

Skin to skin, you pressed your lips on hers. Your hands found the cool skin of her tummy, her hands rested on your shoulders.

“You have a great body Rei,” you told her. 

“Thanks… I’m rather proud of it.”

“As you should be.”

Her hands held your forearms, breath on your neck. Her bra was still on her. 

“May I take that off?” you politely requested. 

“I dunno…” she smirked, “do I want to let you take it off?”

“That’s up to you.”

With a smile, she reached behind her back.  “Give it a second… It takes a bit of manoeuvring.”

“I’m not planning to go anywhere,” you grinned. 

Her eyes met yours. Within Naoi Rei was your blue.

“Neither am I.”

click 

The fabric atop her chest loosened. Left strap, right strap. Off her body and onto the floor. Simple, quick and alluring. Rounded, shaped and inviting—Her tits sat proudly atop her chest, light nipples standing at attention. You found yourself gawking, a tightness growing in your underwear.

“It’s… It’s rude to stare you know,” she quipped.

You snapped out of it. “Sorry.”

“You better be… Did your mother not teach you how you should behave with a woman?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t bring my Mom into this.”

“I bet she’d be real disappointed if—”

Her gasp tore through her sentence. Your mouth found its place on her left breast, gently sucking on the nub atop the mound. Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties.

“You’re so fucking wet,” you grinned. 

“All… Your fault,” she manages to retort, a hint of feistiness in her rebuttal. 

“You’re right. Let me take care of it.”

Your digits slipped past the dripping folds, entering the warmth of her insides as you started to feel around inside of her. Juices coated your fingers, flowing from the tip of your pointer to the base of your wrist. Sighs filled your ears. 

“Baby…” she whined. Her hips bucked when you found the soft patch of flesh on the roof of her walls. She didn’t hold back on her cries when you began to wiggle your fingers, fingertips vibrating back and forth about the same spot as she squirmed on the bed. Luscious thighs clamped around your hand, locking your wrist in place while you worked your magic on her. Her front teeth revealed themselves when she bit down on her lower lip. 

“So… Good…” was all she could say. Wracked with pleasure, driven by need… Rei was a work of art. “L-Like that… Just like that!”

You never remembered her to be this wanton. Then again, it was your first time with her. It was a new side to Rei, a breath of fresh air from the usual cutesy, lovey girl that she was around you. You never knew that she was so well endowed. Then again, Rei never wore anything that flaunted the curves of her body or the swell of her breasts. It was all new to you, a new sensation, a new feel.  Her hips were bucking. Filth continued to pour out of her parted lips. Your mouth found itself back on her erect nipples, giving them the attention that they deserved. Her hand found your head, nails digging into the back of your skull.

“That’s it… Suck them…” she rasped. “Suck my tits, they're yours…”

Your eyes caught hers as you looked up.  “All mine?” 

She nodded furiously. “All… Yours.”

A flurry of motion. Your fingers exit her. Rei’s panties are removed, thrown somewhere in your room. In a matter of seconds, you're positioned above her, cock lined up with her flushed lips.

“I’m gonna own you Rei,” you growled.

With visibly flushed cheeks, she smirked and challenged your gaze. “Less talk. More action.”

You entered her with one firm, strong stroke, burying yourself inside the tight flesh of her body. Rei lets a long, drawn-out moan out as she’s filled with your cock. The moan soon turned into a long string of pleasurable sounds as you began fucking her. Her thighs opened, spread and stayed that way as you begin to fuck her with quick and strong thrusts, firmly spearing yourself within her and making sure she felt each entry and exit in and out of her tight body.

Your delight peaked at the sight before you—Those perfect curves of hers, those large round breasts and her full, flushed thighs bouncing and quivering with each thrust. Her eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, locked on yours from the moment you entered. The blue was replaced with lust and need. 

“So fucking good…” she moaned. “More… Give me more…”

You entered her harder, deeper. You move your palm up her body to capture one of her bouncing breasts. The feel of her sweat beneath your skin as you palmed the soft flesh was titillating. Her hardened nipple poked out between your fingers as you squeezed the sensitive flesh with your hand. Rei clasped your hand on her tits with one of her own. She squeezed your hand, passionate and encouraging, urging you to tighten your grip on her mounds. The soft curse that escaped her lips when you obliged told you everything she wanted you to know—She wanted it. She wanted you. 

“I’m gonna cum,” she said. The way she conveyed it only urged you to do more. Your movements became more urgent. Though your own orgasm was building, you resolved to make sure she enjoyed hers first.

The hand clutching yours on her breast squeezed your own tighter and tighter. With her body almost completely flushed against yours you increased the tempo of your hips as they crashed against hers. Your hand left her breasts, sliding down to grip her full hips, pulling her into your crotch as you thrusted into her. You slammed her against your body even as you thrusted deep with your shaft, impaling her as hard as you could with each thrust.

“Oh God!,” Rei cursed, “I’m gonna cum so hard! Oh! I’m so close… I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna—”

You silence her with a hand around her throat. “Do it, Rei. Cum for me.”

A dark look crossed Rei’s face. As if on command, Rei did just that. You watched as she was ruined by pleasure, losing control of her movements as she withered helplessly on top of your mattress. Her pussy pulsated around you, tightening and loosening, clamping down fiercely around your shaft. Her mouth opened—a soft, strained moan, one of pure pleasure, a gentle release of emotion. You released the hand around her throat.

You slowed your thrusts, letting her slowly wind down from the high while keeping your own orgasm at bay. Sweat glistened on her milky skin, her chest heaving. Her eyes were shut, lips parted to let sweet, fresh oxygen enter her body as she breathed deeply. 

“Why… Are you so good at this?” she huffed.

“I think I’m just a natural,” you grinned. 

Rei rolled her eyes. “You little narcissist. Come here.”

Her lips graced yours. The must of her sweat was wafting into your nose now, but you couldn’t care less. 

“Hey,” she called after you’d broken the seal. “You’re my first…”

You let that sink in. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yep… One and only baby…”

“Wow… I guess I’m… Honoured?” you responded. Rei laughed and pushed your hair out of your eyes. 

“Now’s not the time to tell me how you feel,” she lectured, “now’s the time to make me scream and make a mess out of your place.”

“We’ll have to clean up though…”

She smacked you on the shoulder. “Figure of speech dummy.”

You chuckled. “You know me—I’m bad with words.”

Rei giggled, resting a hand on your chest.

“But you’re not too bad with your actions,” she simpered, “so why don’t you talk less and do more?”

You challenged the jeer head on. “You sure?”

She sat on it for a moment. A familiar grin made its way up her face.

“Are you gonna make me change my mind?” she asked.

“Depends… What if I can?”

“I’ll… Buy you lunch for a month.”

You let yourself grin. “Same wager as last time huh?”

“I guess,” she shrugged. “Now how expensive is your couch?”

***

You were certain that you were bleeding from at least four points on your head, but you didn’t really care. Rei’s nails dug into your skull, acute pricks of pain littering your skull as she moaned your name. You’d found another way to make her squirm.

Your mouth on her crotch drove her off the rails, the loud gasp that left her throat being the biggest indication. You delivered long, slow licks from bottom to top, the flat of your tongue covering every bit of her pussy before settling on her clit. You swirled the tip of it around the hard little bud, bittersweet and tangy taste of her juices flooding your mouth. Her warm, sticky thighs wrapped themselves around your face, keeping you right where you want to be—Between the pillow heaven of her thighs and right in front of that dripping slit.

“Oh… Oh fuck… You eat me… So good,” Rei drawled. Her voice had taken on a new tone, the pleasure coursing through her body filling the filth spilling forth with generous amounts of need.

She’d make a great singer. You thought to yourself as she started to practically flatten you on her pussy. You wondered why all those agencies turned down a honey sweet voice like hers. 

Then again, she wouldn’t be moaning the way she was in an audition. Maybe she would if it was a casting call.

“Oh keep going… I’m so close,” Rei rasped, hips thrusting upwards in a desperation to chase her second orgasm for the night. You were happy to make her cum as many times as she liked. Your goal was to divulge every single method that would make her squirm after all. 

Pure filth—raw, unfiltered curses and explanations began streaming out of those parted lips. Her body tensed, her eyes rolled. 

The quickly built orgasm took Rei completely by surprise. She twitched, quivered, writhed on your couch as the pleasure completely overwhelmed her. You could hardly hold on to her wildly shaking thighs, struggling to keep your mouth locked onto her crotch as she thrashed about. Her sweet fluids dribbled down your chin, dripping onto your couch and ensuring you a rather complicated clean up. A future problem for future you to solve. 

She pushed you off her, her upper limit reached. Her head hit the cushioning of the couch, tremulous legs barely able to stay upright. 

“Change your mind yet?” you jeered.

“Fuck… You…” she managed to spit.

“Ah… Guess not,” you huffed. 

Maybe you needed something fresh…

***

“B-Baby…”

With her slim tummy pressed up against your kitchen counter, you pushed her hair over her shoulder so that you could see the delicious curve of her back. You looked down, watching as your rock hard cock disappeared and reappeared between the folds of her tight little pussy. Your shaft glistened with her fluids, lubricating your member to the point where you were sliding in and out of her almost effortlessly. 

“Harder,” she pleaded, “fuck me harder…”

Both your hands reached around her small frame to fondle those amazing breasts. “You sure.”

She nodded vigorously. 

“I’m a good girl… I can take it…” she whined, “Please… Give it to me…”

There was something about the way she vocalised her infinite need. A certain feel, a certain tone… Whatever it was, a dark part of you relished the way she pleaded to be fucked the way she liked it.

It turned you on to no end. 

Your right hand tore itself away from her breast, snaking up her collarbone and wrapping itself around her throat. Without warning, you applied pressure to her windpipe. A raspy gasp left her as you start to properly fuck her, giving it to her just the way she wants.

“Yes… Y-Yes baby…” she mewled, “fuck me… Fuck me like this… Own me.”

She had said it. She was yours for the taking. 

Drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body, you railed her with quick deep strokes. With each stroke, you concentrated on pumping hard and fast, filling her as much as you could while you relished the tightness of the flesh wrapped around your cock. Skin slapped against skin, mixing with the delightful squelch of her pussy as the two sound waves mixed into an arousing symphony of pleasure. To top it all off, Rei’s strained cries floated above the sounds, filling your ears and filling your desire to make her quiver on your cock.

“Ugh…” Rei strained. She was gripping the counter with a knuckle-white grip, desperately trying to release her pleasure somewhere, anywhere. Her tightness was overwhelming—overwhelmingly tight and hot, overwhelmingly wet and slick. It grasped you tightly with each entrance, just like a glove. It sucked you in, held you, then released you. It was working all sorts of wonders on your body. 

“God Rei… I love your tight little pussy,” you growled into her ear. The hand around your throat limits her to a series of grunts and moans to reply to you. You pinched her nipple with your free hand. Her pussy clenched tighter around you. Her hand finds your one on her throat. She squeezed it tighter. 

“Har… Der…”

You weren’t one to refuse. 

You were practically ramming yourself against her. All the while, her eyes are glued to yours as she looks over her shoulder at you, those eyes glazed with pleasure and lust and just a hint of blue in her eyes, face twisted in a vinous mix of pain and pleasure—unfiltered lust. 

Soon Rei was cumming. Her mouth opened in a frozen, wordless “O”, her body tightening and pulsing around you. Her small, curvy frame quivered and shook as she momentarily lost control of herself for the nth time that night. You slowed your thrusts, gradually coming to a stop just as the tingle in your shaft was at its peak. You wanted to save the load for when she officially changed her mind. 

You almost forget about your hand clasped around her throat as you watched her cum. It was only when she frantically tapped on your hand did you release her throat from your grasp. She gasped, sweet sweet oxygen refilling her lungs as she slumped forward on your kitchen counter. 

“Shit… You okay Rei?” you asked with genuine concern. She gulped down another breath of air. 

“I… Still… Don’t change…” she panted. She didn’t need to complete her sentence, you knew what she meant.

“Feisty little duckling,” you sighed. It was getting frustrating. Your cock was aching for the sweet release of your orgasm. 

But your ego wouldn’t let you cum before she yielded. You decided that perhaps a nice warm shower could change her mentality.

***

The warm water fell over both of your bodies. Her skin took on a smooth, creamy and quality as it flowed over her perfect body, flowing over her round breasts and flying from her outstretched toes as her legs shook with each thrust. Blonde hair was plastered to her face, her cute features twisted by lust and pleasure. Nails dug into your back, arms pressing you tighter against her. Her pulsing pussy tightened around your shaft, a sign of yet another impending orgasm. You redouble your efforts.

“Cumming… Again?” you half grunted, half teased.

“Yes! Oh fuck I’m so close!” she shamelessly admitted.

Adjusting your grip on her tender ass, you lengthened your thrusts. Deep, hard and fast—you fucked Rei with her back against the cool tile, eliciting cries that echoed throughout your shower. Rei wrapped her legs around your waist, spreading her legs wider for you to get as deep as you could possibly go. She was holding on, grounding herself in the midst of her pleasure while she was being fucked senseless.

“Fuck Rei,” you hissed. “You're so fucking tight.”

“So… Full…” she managed. “I’ll… Never… Fuck…”

She could barely form sentences, the corner of her brain in charge of that rendered useless by the throbbing, rock hard meat that relentlessly slid in and out of her pussy. You had been relentless with your assault, thrusting frantically between her thighs from the get go. Your pride didn’t allow you to cum before Rei yielded. Till she did, you would gladly fuck her, finger her, eat her out… You’d make her cum a hundred times over if it meant beating her. 

You shouldn’t be this competitive considering the fact you’d just reunited with her, but something about the carnal way you fucked her and the cries you forced out of that mouth of hers made you believe that she’s enjoying every second of what was happening. She wanted it, loved it, needed it. She was about to break soon, you could feel it.

Her will finally snapped, the last straw on the camel's back laid. Willingly, she dug her face into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck the wager… I… I just need you,” she admitted. “Please… Cum together with me.”

A small sense of euphoria filled you, but it was quickly replaced by the pent up lust within your being. For the next few minutes there were no more words, only the sound of wet flesh hitting wet flesh and the long, uninterrupted stream of wordless moans escaping Rei’s mouth as she willingly gave in to you against the shower wall. Forehead against hers, your measure ploughed her wet, hot pussy again and again, her tight body rocked from head to toe with each impact of your crotch against her own.

Then in a moment of sheer bliss, you both groaned and succumbed to your orgasms. The pleasure that flooded your body was indescribable, warm, hot semen erupts from your shaft into Rei’s pulsating, welcoming depths that milked you of every last drop. Basking in the intimate moment, you held her close to you, her breath filling your ear to the backdrop of the falling water. 

When you pulled out of her, a thick load came oozing out of her creamy little pussy. Her eyes opened, held your gaze… You let yourself swim in the blue that had found its way back into her eyes, as if it never left this whole time. 

“I guess… I changed my mind,” she panted. You chuckled weakly.

“That’s what I thought.”

***

As it would turn out, you’d share a lot more firsts with Rei. Her first time buying a Shinkansen bento, her first ride on a Shinkansen, her first time out of Nagoya… You had the privilege of enjoying these experiences that were all new to her by her side. You’d forgotten what it was like to have her in your life, but the familiarity of dating Rei would come back sooner than you thought. 

Kisses, hugs, whispers. 

“I love you”s, jokes, petty bickering.

Her hand in yours, the blue in her eyes, that smile on her face. 

It all felt so nostalgic, teenage years flying right before your eyes. You’d both aged, but you were both the same teenagers that fell in love all those years ago. She was your everlasting blue, a blue that would never go out of style.

One new thing in your relationship was working together. She had a serious side to her that you were getting familiar with, and she was getting used to your task oriented nature. Notebooks filled with your different handwritings, diagrams were analysed and discussed. You wondered why you never got to work with her sooner. 

Another thing that was new was the sex and the fact that you were working together now. The night before you were both scheduled to leave, you’d learnt that she could fit your whole length into her mouth without gagging. The morning you were set to leave, you learnt that she loved the feeling of being choked while taking your cock in and out of her dripping pussy. The night you got back to the hotel after a briefing, you learnt that she had a tendency to let her hands drift all over you in the shower. She also had a tendency to moan extra loudly while you fucked her atop the sink. 

New day, new things.

“You ever think about dying sometimes?”

You raised your head from your notebook to stare at Rei. With her head resting on a pillow, she stared up at the ceiling.

“Where is this coming from?” you couldn’t help but ask. 

Rei shrugged. “Dunno… Just thought about it…”

“That is a horrible way to think…” 

“And this is coming from the guy working at 10pm?”

You shut the book and sighed. 

“Someone has to be responsible…”

“And that’s my problem because?”

Your lips formed a thin line. You smacked her with your book. 

She yelped. “Hey!” 

“Cry about it,” you replied. 

Rei pouted and sat up. “So this is what I get for trying to initiate conversation.”

“Who starts a conversion by talking about death?” you questioned.

“Me, dummy,” she retorted. 

“I worry for your boss… He wants you to talk to clients?”

She snatched your book away from you. “Nag, nag nag… Jesus, you’re like my Mom!”

You clicked your tongue and snatched your book right back. 

“Someone has to parent your childish ass,” you muttered.

Rei’s haughty expression softened. 

“Yea…” she chuckled. “Guess you’re the best person to take care of me huh?” 

You let out a small laugh. She shifted herself closer to you. 

“You okay?” she asked you. You nodded.

“I’m fine…” you assured her, “just a little tired”

“It’s fine,” she brushed it off, “I understand.”

Rei yawned next to you. You slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to you as you opened your notebook back up.

“You wanna know something?” she asked. 

“What?”

She rested her head on her shoulder. A soft, warm whisper filled your ear. “I love you.”

You didn’t need to look into her eyes to know that the blue was being reflected in her eyes. Your blue would always reside there after all.

For she was Naoi Rei—The girl that shattered your heart and put it back together again. She loved you. She always did.

And you loved her too.

/_______________________\

If you made it all the way here. Thank you so much for reading. I sincerely appreciate all the support you've given me. Have a great day :)

[nichuuu]

Je T’aime

(Yeowooya part 2)[ft. Joy]

Tags: Fluff, angst, titfuck, riding, standing doggy, facial Word count: 9k+

You took a sip of water from the cup before you. Just behind the screen of your laptop, you could see Joy biting her lip in concentration. The ample lighting of her apartment saved you from another migraine as you scrolled through the document sent to you, and it also allowed you to watch her adjust the oversized shirt over her petite frame. You’d both woken up after a crazy round of sex, now it was time to work. 

“Would ‘flamboyance’ be the right word to describe this?” Joy inquired. Setting your cup down, you replied. “I think ‘grandeur’ would be a little more suitable…”

She hummed in agreement and typed away. 

“You know, you look pretty cute with those glasses,” she complimented. Your contacts had dried up earlier that day, leaving you with no other option but to put on your spectacles. You always felt rather self-conscious with the round, clunky frames sitting atop your nose. It felt nice to hear a compliment about them. 

“Do you want me to wear them around more often?” You grinned.

“Maybe,” She replied cheekily. You shot her a look.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really fucking confusing?” You inquired. 

“Maybe…”

You rolled your eyes and took your glasses off. It’d been awhile since you wore them. The weight on your nose bridge was irking you a little. You set it down on Joy’s dining  table, closing your eyes to give yourself a small break. 

“Hm…” You heard Joy hum. You could visualise the pout on her face as she vocalised her moment of thought. 

“Need help?” you offered. 

You heard a faint rustle. Your eyes snapped open. 

Your specs were on Joy’s face. 

“Wow… You’re degree’s pretty low,” she remarked, “Why don’t you just wear these babies around everywhere?”

You stretched out your hand. “Give them back.”

Joy smirked.

“That’s no way to talk to your teammate!” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Give them back please,” you corrected yourself. Joy tapped a finger on her chin, as if she needed the combined power of her five remaining brain cells to come to a decision. 

“No,” she eventually answered. 

A regular person would be a little ticked off by her behaviour, but you liked her enough to put up with her shit.

You heard Joy slide your spectacles back across the table.

“Don’t be annoyed, Ahjussi,” she teased you.  

Retrieving your specs, you replied. “I’m not annoyed.” 

And you were telling the truth.

You heard Joy let out a soft giggle before she resumed her work. It’d been a few weeks after your getaway with her. When you returned back to the office after your time on the beach, you were delighted to hear that your entire team had been dragged through the mud by just about every executive. They gave you the tongue lashing of your life, screaming all sorts of slurs and expletives. Out of courtesy, you apologised, but you did your best to hide a sly grin as you made eye contact with Joy. 

A few hours after you got back, you were called into your boss's office. When you entered, you found Joy seated opposite your boss. As it would turn out, your boss had been monitoring both your work and Joy’s work—despite the fact that she was under different management—and decided that you were both worthy of a promotion. And so, you and Joy began your new journey in a new department as teammates. Better teammates, better desk space, better pay… 

The first couple of days were fine for the both of you. You both acclimatised quickly to the new nature of your work and quickly learnt the process of the strange new place you had been promoted to. It felt unusual to have teammates that actually did work that they promised to do, and it was definitely out of the ordinary to be treated to coffee by your juniors in the team. It was an odd new experience, but you grew to like it.

With the convenience of being located to the desk next to yours, Joy was more playful than ever. When she was in a good mood, Soo-young would drop by and check up on you, leaving all sorts of snacks. When she felt like crap, Joy would sneak into your space to “consult” you, which was code for asking you to meet her in the bathroom for a quickie. Interactions with her became more frequent, and each exchange you had with her made that funny, fluttering feeling you’d experienced in the Chalet grow.

After about a week of working with her, you figured out that you had a crush on Joy. 

“Help me read this email real quick,” she requested. You slid your spectacles back onto your face.

Joy slid her laptop across the table. You spun the screen around so that you could read.

“I think I did a pretty good job. You can feel my sincerity emanating from it,” she mused. She stood up and walked around the table to settle on the chair next to you. 

“We’ll see…” you muttered, scrolling to the top of the page. Her leg brushed against yours. You felt the hairs on your body stand.

You thoroughly proofread Joy’s long email to one of the clients that she’d been assigned to reach out to. She’d always been a good writer, and you knew because you’d read countless emails for her. There was never much that needed to be amended or added in her emails, maybe a few small grammatical errors or punctuation mistakes here and there. You remember that she’d once wanted to pursue a career in writing while she was in highschool, but her parents shut her down the moment she brought it up. 

“Looks decent,” you remarked, sliding her laptop back to her.

“That’s it? Just ‘decent’?” Joy interrogated. 

Giving her a look, you answered. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“A compliment would be nice.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Fine… Your email’s good,” you obliged. 

“Thank you,” Joy smiled. She seemed satisfied with your new response.

You chuckled to yourself and closed your laptop. 

“I refuse to believe that no one has ever told you how confusing you are,” you told her frankly. With a shrug, Joy replied, “It’s because I don’t hang out with naggy uncles like you.”

“We’re the same age, Soo-young.”

“But that doesn’t make you any less of an uncle…”

You picked up your notebook and lightly smacked her over the head. Joy pouted, a feigned look of pain on her face. 

“Keep up the act and I’ll smack you even harder,” you warned her, shaking the notebook in your hand for extra emphasis.

“Alright…” Joy groaned, “Jeez… Take a joke will you?”

“I can take a jokes. Your jokes are just bad,” you smirked. 

“Take that back,” she ordered. 

With a wink, you shot back, “Make me.” 

Joy took a good look at you. You blinked, and she was on you the next moment. Her hands cupped your cheeks, nails tracing circular patterns on your face. 

“Take it back…” she whispered. 

If this happened before you learnt of your crush on Joy, you would’ve reacted normally—Grab her ass, kiss her, scoop her up and take her to the bedroom… You could probably write a five page essay on the various ways you’d own her. 

But it was different now.

You found your heart palpitating in your chest. Your palms were sweaty, your arms stiff at your sides. All the retorts that you came up with instantly left you. 

There was only one question on your mind.

“What’s wrong… Cat got your tongue?” Joy chuckled.

She was pinching your cheeks now, kneading with the soft flesh on your face like a child with playdoh. 

“Is it my turn to be in control?” she asked, “Oh I have been waiting for—”

“What are we to each other?” you interrupted. 

A look of confoundment crossed her face. 

“H-Huh?” 

Her hands stopped fidgeting and fiddling with your face. She looked you in the eyes. 

“What… What are we, Soo-young?” you asked once more. Joy blinked.

“I… Don’t know…” she admitted, “What do you… Want us to be?” 

You looked away for a moment. Now was the opportune moment to ask her out, yet something was weighing down on your heart. Hesitation seemed to be present in every cell of your body, but you were compelled to speak your mind.

“I… I want to date you Soo-young,” you blurted. 

You hardly used her name yet it seemed to roll off your tongue so easily. Joy seemed at a loss for words. Silently, she slipped off you and sat back down on her chair. You swallowed the saliva that was accumulating in your mouth.

“Look… I-I know this is a little sudden and all…” you began. She raised a hand to cut you off. You zipped up as she spoke.

“We… Can’t date,” she told you, a grim look on her face. Your heart sank to your stomach.

Joy pursed her lips. She rubbed her palms against her thighs, her head turning to look out of her apartment window. 

“I don’t have anything against you,” she clarified, “It’s just… I… I don’t think we should be in a serious relationship.”

You nodded solemnly, understanding where she was coming from. You had a feeling that she wouldn’t feel the same way about you, but her rejection still hurt nonetheless. 

“Oh…” you muttered. “I… I see…”

Joy sighed heavily. 

“Look… I…” she started, “I… I think I’ll need some time to think by myself…” 

You nodded. You wanted to respect her decision, yet the urge to try and talk things out with her threatened to overpower your thoughts. You grabbed your laptop and stood up before you let your emotions get to your head. 

“I’ll leave then,” you announced. 

She looked up at you. Her mouth opened. You hoped that she’d say, “Wait”, tell you to sit down and talk things out with her… 

She closed her mouth and let out a shaky breath. She had no words for you, and you decided that you didn’t have any words for her either. 

You packed your things into your bag. You could feel her watching, silently observing you stuff your things into your bag. You knew that things wouldn’t be the same between the both of you from now on, and it was your fault.  You shouldered your bag and headed over to her door. Your hand hovered over the doorknob for a few seconds, a naive part of you hoping for her to call you back. 

But when you looked back at her, she was staring at the floor. There was an unreadable expression on her face, a mix of emotions you’d never seen before. 

“Joy…”

She turned her head. You gave her a small smile. 

“I hope that… You can think this over,” you told her. 

She fixed you with a look—Unreadable.

“Y-Yea… I-I’ll try to…”

You smiled.

“Cool… See you I guess…”

Your hand gripped the cold doorknob. Everything you hoped to say had been said. You opened the door and left her apartment. 

You did your best to not look back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A heaviness in your heart plagued you for the rest of the week. A veil had shrouded your brain, your mind hazy and unfocused. Everything seemed to go by in a haze, bits of information entering your mind here and there as you sat at your desk and slogged away. 

All forms of conversation with Joy had ceased. You did your best to avoid her when you could, but there were inevitable moments like the times where you had to ride the same lift or print something at the same time. In those small moments, you’d shoot a small smile that was sometimes unreturned. You tried to talk to her every now and then, but she never seemed to be interested. It didn’t help that her desk was next to yours.

Loneliness had begun to set in by your second week without Joy. You never realised how much time you’d spent with her till she was completely removed from your life. There were times when the two of you were alone, and you had to fight the urge to call her name in those times, every fibre of your body fighting against the thought of just turning to her and asking to talk. It was hard to see her, and it was even harder to watch as she went about her day like you didn’t exist. 

By the first month, you’d accepted the fact that Joy would never rethink her feelings for you. It was foolish for you to ever think that she’d give it a second thought. You weren’t sure why you genuinely thought that there was hope.

By the third month without her, you were slowly getting accustomed to your new way of life. There was still the dull throb of emptiness in your heart, but you learnt to cope with it by drowning yourself in work.

By the fifth month, you thought you were okay. But that was when Joy texted you. 

It was late. Joy had gone home long ago. When you saw her name pop up on your notification centre, your fingers froze on your keyboard. You stared at your phone screen, silently looking at the icon till your screen turned off. It took you a good moment to come back to your senses before you actually opened your chat with her.  

We should talk. 

You found yourself stunned by the three words she’d sent over a minute ago. Memories that you’d taken months to shut out were flooding back. You typed a reply.

Ok. 

The message was instantly seen. The three dots appeared, moving in a wave as she typed something back. 

We need to talk in person. 

Are you free this weekend?

You raised an eyebrow. When you were still in contact with Joy, she’d always told you that weekends were reserved for her to be by herself. She was strict on this rule, but she was making an exception now. You quickly checked your calendar for the weekend. There was nothing.

Yeah. 

The three dots reappeared. 

Ok. 

She sent you an address, and a quick check on your maps revealed a house that you’d never seen before in your life. It was somewhere off in the outskirts of the city, a long 3 hour drive from your place.

Meet me here at 2pm. See you.

You had questions for her, questions that needed answers instantly, but you decided to reserve them for the day itself.

The weekend rolled around quickly. You couldn’t sleep in the days leading up to your meeting… There was too much to think about.

The drive to the place was somewhat pleasant aside from your heart hammering in your ribcage. You ended up reaching 10 minutes earlier than the meeting time. In an act to not look desperate, you waited till the clock struck two before exiting your car. 

You rang the bell at the cargate and waited. Tje cat in the driveway looked like Joy’s, but you weren’t too sure. The gate opened after a few seconds, a rather loud grinding sound filling the air as it slowly rolled open. You entered the property, stepping around the car and heading towards the door. 

The door to the house opened as you approached. A little girl who looked no older than five stood before you, holding the door open with her tiny little body. You stopped in your tracks. 

“Who are you?” the child asked. 

“H-Hi… I-I’m looking for Jo—I mean… Soo-young,” you told her, “A-Am I at the right place?”

The girl stared at you for a bit before turning her head into the house and screaming, “MOM! SOMEONE’S AT THE DOOR!”

You felt yourself blush as you realised that you probably got the wrong address. 

“S-Sorry… I-I think I might’ve…”

You trailed off when Joy appeared behind the girl. You locked eyes with her. 

She smiled softly.

“Hey…” she greeted you, “Long time no see…”

You blinked, standing there like a deer in headlights. The girl looked up at Joy.

“Mom? Why is he staring at you like that?” she inquired. Joy laughed nervously. 

“He hasn’t seen mommy in a long time,” she explained, “Go inside and help mommy get our guest a drink okay?” 

“Okay!” the child beamed. She waddled into the house, leaving you and Joy alone at the front door. She opened the door a little wider and stepped aside. 

“Let’s talk inside,” she told you. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

“R-Right…” You replied. 

You took off your shoes and entered the strange domain. Old cabinet supporting new flatscreen TV, old book on new coffee table, old clock ticking away next to an even older photo… The place was furnished as if two timelines had collided in the same house. The place clearly wasn’t Joy’s judging by the numerous pieces of furniture that strayed ever so far from her taste. Many things seemed rather out of place, yet there was an oddly homey feel to the house. 

Soo-young led you to the couch and gestured for you to sit. She waited for you to settle down before seating about an arms length away from you. 

“So… How have you been?” she asked first. 

You shifted in your seat and replied, “I’ve been… Alright… How about you?” 

Pinnochio would be jealous of you. 

“I’ve… Been doing a lot of thinking,” she chuckled, “a solid five months of thinking… It’s more tiring than you’d expect…”

The sound of clinking tore your gaze away from Joy. The child came waddling back from the kitchen, carrying a tray that held two glasses filled with golden liquid and topped with a generous amount of ice. She walked past Joy and bee lined it for you. 

“Here you go sir! Apple juice!” she declared. You graciously accepted the beverage, the sickly sweet scent of the nectar wafting into your nose. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. The girl returned a smile before turning to Joy. Joy chuckled and lifted the glass off the tray with elegance. 

“Thank you Yeon-su,” she smiled, ruffling the girl’s hair with her free hand. 

“No problem mommy!” the child grinned, “can we go play when you're done?”

“Sure thing honey. Give mommy and her friend some time okay?” Joy requested.

“Okay! Don’t take too long!” the girl chirped before skipping away. 

Joy turned back to you. 

“She’s so precious isn’t she?” she mused. 

“I… How old is she?” you inquired. 

“Four. Going five in two months,” she answered. 

Four years… She’s had a daughter for four years. 

“Is… She adopted or…” you continued to probe. You knew that you were pushing boundaries here, but Joy didn’t seem to be uncomfortable.

“No… She’s mine,” she replied. You sat there in silence. Joy gave you time to process these new pieces of information in silence as she sipped on her apple juice. 

“So… You’re… Married?” you blurted. Joy laughed. 

“Married? God no!” she spat. 

You stared at the ice in your glass, the slowly melting solids an excellent representation of what your brain felt like. Nothing was making sense. Joy? A mother? You began to wonder how much you actually knew about her. 

“What…” you muttered, “Why… Why didn’t you say anything about this?”

You felt like an asshole for asking such a question. It sounded like it was expected of her to let the whole world know that she had a child. Joy sighed and leaned forward. 

“I… I was just getting to that,” she whispered. 

She swirled her apple juice for a bit. 

“Look,” she started, “I… I’ve been meaning to—”

“MOMMY!” 

Joy’s head instantly snapped towards the direction of her child’s voice. She set down her glass and bolted towards the kitchen. You quickly put down your glass and tailed after her. You followed her into the kitchen and stepped out a glass door into a backyard. 

“What is it, Yeon-su?” Joy inquired, worry in her voice. With a tear stricken face, the little girl pointed to a tree.

“My… M-My football!” she wailed. You looked up and quickly spotted the outline of the black and white ball. It was nestled in between two tree branches, perched like a bird in its nest. Joy drew in a breath. 

“Damn… That’s pretty high up,” she muttered. She looked back down at her child. 

“It’s okay Yeon-su, mommy will get you a new one,” Joy assured her daughter. 

“No! I-I don’t w-want a new one!” the child whined. “I want to keep this ball! No new ball!”

Joy pursed her lips. 

“Sweetie…” she attempted to allay her child. But her daughter was having none of it. 

“I WANT MY BALL BACK! I WANT MY BALL BACK!”

Joy squeezed her eyes shut, her forehead creasing as her brows furrowed. It’d been a while since you’d seen her this stressed. She looked like she was on the verge of letting out a cuss. You examined the tree again. It wasn’t too tall, growing maybe a centimetre or two above the roof of the house. 

Maybe it was your feelings for her, maybe it was your conscience… Something compelled you to act before Joy’s stress levels got out of hand. You walked towards the tree trunk and circled it, looking for a low hanging branch. You found one, muttered a quick prayer, then jumped and wrapped your legs around the bark to start climbing. The coarse bark provided ample grip, allowing you to quickly move up to the lowest branch and get atop of it. You straddled the branch, craning your neck upwards to see how far up the ball was. It wasn’t too far up. 

“H-Hey! W-What are you doing?” Joy asked, “get down! You’ll hurt yourself.”

You ignored her and climbed up to the next branch. You were grateful that its branches weren’t spaced too far from each other. You could use small bursts of energy and rest for a bit on each sturdy branch. 

You did your best not to look down, your hands already shaky and your palms sweaty from just the feeling of being high up. It didn’t take long to reach it, and a simple smack was all that was needed to get it off the tree.

Satisfied, you descended back down from the tree. Getting down was much easier than climbing up, but the fact that you had to look down made it feel harder than it should’ve been.

Even when your feet were on solid ground, your hands continued to tremble. Joy was waiting for you at the base of the tree, a sincere look of worry on her face.

“You okay? You’re really pale,” she checked in. You managed a nod. 

“I’m… Fine,” you assured her shakily.

“You sure?” she confirmed, “You look like you’re gonna shit yourself…”

You nodded once more. Joy’s daughter walked up next to her mother, a bright smile on her face. 

“Thank you mister!” she exclaimed.

You waved it off, beginning taking deep breaths to calm yourself down. Joy’s daughter turned to look at her mother. 

“I like him, Mommy. Can he be my new Daddy?” 

Joy looked like she’d just been shot in the chest. Her daughter looked up at her innocently, examining her mother’s face with an unwavering expression. She caught your gaze, a certain look behind her eyes. 

“I…” she trailed off. There was something going on behind her eyes, something unfamiliar and new. It was that unreadable expression, the same expression she’d fixed you with all those months ago.

Even now, you still couldn’t figure out what it meant.

Joy quickly looked away, blinking rapidly as she turned her daughter around. 

“Let’s go inside Yeon-su…” she instructed. 

“But you didn’t—”

“Let’s go inside,” Joy repeated. Yeon-su seemed to get the message. The fierce tone of her mother didn’t stop the girl from looking back at you as she walked back towards the house. Over her shoulder, the little girl gave you another one of those beaming smiles. 

For a brief moment, you couldn’t tell Yeon-su apart from her mother. 

You followed the mother-daughter duo back into their abode. Joy took her daughter upstairs to settle her down. Joy came back down a few minutes later. 

“I gave her a colouring book… That should occupy her for some time,” she mused, “Sorry for her behaviour just now… I didn’t expect her to—”

“What happened to Yeon-su’s father?” you interjected. Joy licked her lips and stared at her feet for a moment.

“He um… He left.”

You regretted asking. 

“O-Oh…” you muttered, “I-I’m… I’m sorry.”

Joy chuckled, but her laughter couldn’t hide the brief flash of pain that crossed her features.

“I-It’s fine…” she assured you, “the whole reason I asked you here was to show you Yeon-su…”

She raised her head, caught your gaze.

“She’s the reason I can’t date you.”

You felt the air grow heavy. 

“W-What?” you stammered. 

Joy let out a shuddering sigh.

“Look… I just need you to hear me out now,” she requested, “once I’ve said what I need to say… You’re free to go.”

Your silence was consent. Soo-young pursed her lips.

“I… I like you… I really, really like you,” she whispered, “I’ve liked you for a long time, and… I was so happy when you asked me out. It… felt like a dream come true…”

You remained silent to let her speak. She continued.

“I’ve always wanted to be something more with you, to be more than just friends with benefits… But… It can’t be that way, not when I have Yeon-su.” 

A tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, sniffling as she did so. 

“I… I can’t ask you to accept the fact that I have a child. I-I can’t make you just… Bear with the fact that I’m just some whore that got herself pregnant…”

Joy folded her arms over her chest and looked at the ground. There was mucus dripping down her nose that she didn’t bother to wipe. It pained you to see her like this—slowly breaking down in front of you in a moment of vulnerability. Joy had always been playful, naughty and a little cocky around you. You knew her as someone who had the perfect blend of beauty and adorability, someone who always had a smile on her face. Now she was revealing a new side to you, and she had chosen to show this side to you. 

In a way, you felt honoured. 

“And even if you could accept me for who I am and what I’ve done… I can’t ask you to accept that I’ll have to love my daughter over you at times,” she said.

She combed a hand through her hair. The unreadable expression had made its way back into her face. This time, you could see past it.

It was pain. Joy was in pain.

“I’m such an ass aren’t I? I’m making it seem like Yeon-su’s the one standing between you and me…” Joy chuckled bitterly, “That sweet girl did nothing wrong… This whole situation is my fault.”

You stood rooted to the spot, letting the wave of information and emotions wash over you. There were lots of things going through your head and your heart, it felt a little hard to breathe. Joy remained where she was, shoulder shuddering and quaking as she let her hair shroud her face. 

“So… This is why… We can’t date” she strained, “That’s… That’s all I have to say. You… You can go now.”

You watched her wipe her face with the sleeve of her shirt. There was a heaviness in your chest, a stone that weighed down on your heart as you realised that Joy had been battling with these thoughts for months. 

“Soo-young,” you called her softly. She shook her head. 

“N-No… Don’t say anything…” she breathed, “I think it’s best if we leave things here… No hard feelings, no regrets… No secrets left to hide.”

You could feel a tear make its way down your face. You wanted to respect her choice, respect her choice the way you did five months ago… But you couldn’t this time. You knew that if you left your relationship this way, you’d never be able to repair it ever again.

“Go to her…” A small voice in your head urged. 

No regrets.

You slowly walked up to her. With tender care, you drew back the curtains of her hair—pushing the jet black strands out of her face and tucking them behind her ear. 

No regrets.

Her cheeks were wet, eyes puffy and squeezed shut. Gingerly, you reached under her chin and tilted her head up. There was not much to say, but there was much to do. 

No regrets.

You kissed her—a tender, simple yet complicated gesture. 

No regrets.

Joy never made any attempts to shy away. She willingly melted into you, a small whimper escaping her throat. You held her in your arms, feeling each shuddering breath she took send small shockwaves through your chest. You held her in your arms, a buzz filling your head as you let yourself absorb her scent, her taste—the familiar things about her that felt strangely alien in the moment. 

You broke away from her, panting lightly as you watched her slowly open her eyes. You were both crying for your separate reasons, but there was a shared sentiment between the both of you.

We can’t leave each other like this. 

You kissed her again. This time, her arms wrapped themselves around your neck, pulling you in and inviting you to combine with her. There was a longing, a craving that had to be fulfilled. It wasn’t the usual animalistic desire you felt for her. Rather, it was a lust for her love, a want for her close proximity. You wanted her in your life. You wanted to wake up beside her, brush her hair out of her face and kiss her good morning. You wanted to hold her hand as you walked with her in the park. 

You wanted Park Soo-young. 

But could you really look past the fact that she had a child? Could you really see love for who she was? Could you accept that her ex could possibly swoop in and complicate your life?

Well… You wouldn’t know if you didn’t try.

You let your lips leave hers, a brief moment of silence filling the spaces between your laboured breathings. 

“Soo-young…” You whispered, her name rolling off your tongue like it did five months ago. 

“Y-Yea?” she answered, entertaining you. 

Your hands slipped down to her lower back. 

“What if I can accept that you got yourself pregnant by mistake? What if I can accept that you have to love your daughter over me? What happens then?” you asked. Joy sniffled. 

“It’s… It’s not that simple,” she told you.

“It can’t be that complicated can it?” you challenged.

She gazed into your eyes.

“Be honest with me…” she requested, “could you really do that?”

You felt a small smile lightly tug up the corners of your lips.

“Why not?” you challenged, “do you really look down on me that much?”

She giggled, tingling a part of your brain that seemed to remember her laugh so fondly. 

“Well…” she whispered, “I… I guess there’s no harm in… Taking a chance.”

With a bold hope in your heart, you breathed, “Then take a chance on me Soo-young…”

Joy closed her eyes and let out a breath. 

“Just… Promise me that you’ll take care of me,” she pleaded. You nodded. 

“I’ll take care of both you and Yeon-su,” you assured her.

“That’s too much to ask of you,” she reasoned. 

“It’s not,” you whispered, “It won’t be too much for me if we do it together.”

Joy gazed into your eyes, searching your soul.

“Look at you…Going full Prince Charming to woo me,” she teased you.

With equal playfulness, you replied, “But you like the attention don’t you?”

“Maybe…” she smirked.

You both fell silent for a minute. After a while, Joy finally nodded. 

“I trust you to keep your word…” she smiled, “let’s date.”

Your cheeks had never stretched like this in your life.

“Let’s date,” you echoed. Joy reached up and cradled your face in her hands. She pulled you towards her, pressing her lips against yours, and you kissed her back with the biggest smile. 

“Ew…”

Joy quickly broke the kiss. She looked past your shoulder.

“Y-Yeon-su! W-What… What are you doing there!” she squeaked.

You turned and saw Joy’s daughter sitting on the steps, watching intently. 

“I thought you said that you were only friends Mommy?” the little girl questioned. Joy pulled away from you. 

“O-Oh… I-I um…” she stammered. 

As if urged by some comedic timing, the front door swung open. A middle aged woman waddled in, arms ladened with grocery bags.

“Aish… I can’t believe that they were all out of eggs!” the lady grunted as a middle-aged man followed in behind her. 

“You know how supermarkets are honey…” the man sighed, slipping on a pair of sandals.

“Why is it so cold there anyway? It’s like winter—”

The lady stopped when she caught sight of you. Her gaze transferred between you and Joy. 

“Soo-young?” she called, pointing a bony finger at you, “who is that?”

Joy cleared her throat. 

“O-Oh, this is um…” she struggled to answer, “this is… My friend…”

“THEY WERE KISSING GRANDMA! DON’T BELIEVE HER!” Yeon-su unhelpfully inputted. 

“Park Yeon-su!” Joy chided. 

“What? I’m telling the truth! You always told me to tell the truth Mommy,” the daughter rebutted. She clearly took after her mother. 

“Tsk… I… We…” Joy stuttered helplessly. The woman waved it off.

“Aish, we’ll talk about it some other time,” she grumbled. She pointed at you once more and said,  “You. Can you cook?”

“A-A little,” you answered honestly. 

“Good. We need as much help as we can get,” she mused, “date my daughter for all I care. Just don’t abandon her and Yeon-su like that last one.”

She walked past you with her grocery bags in hand. Just like Yeon-su, Joy obviously got her temper from her mother.

“Get in the kitchen! We have to start preparing for the party!” the lady barked. The man sighed. 

“Pardon my wife’s behaviour… She’s always grumpy before these types of things,” he apologised. He walked over and freed up a hand to give you a handshake.

“Welcome to our home. I take it that you’re Soo-young’s new boyfriend?” he asked, gripping your right hand in a firm yet friendly grip.

“U-Um… Y-Yes,” you managed to sputter. He nodded slowly, scanning you from head to toe. 

“I’m her father. Nice to meet you,” he grinned. He had a booming voice, a voice that could make you shit yourself if you heard it in an alley.

“You should come over again next week… I’d like to get to know you better.”

He released your hand and gave you a pat on the shoulder. Joy’s father disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you stunned in your place. 

“They’re pretty chill, don’t worry,” Joy assured you, “we’ll worry about impressions later… Let's go and help prepare the food before Mom decides to behead all of us.”

Joy quickly jogged off to join her parents in the kitchen. As you moved to follow her, you felt a small tug on your pant leg. You looked down. Yeon-su gazed up at you.

“So… Are you my new Daddy?” Joy’s daughter inquired. You smiled warmly and crouched down so you were at eye level with her. 

“I don’t know… Do you want me to be?” you offered. The girl pouted as she thought for a moment. 

“I… I think that would be nice,” she told you, “Please take care of us.”

It felt like a shot of sunshine had been injected straight into your heart. You chuckled nervously.

“I’ll… I’ll do my best Yeon-su…” you told her. The little girl raised her closed fist and stuck out her pinky. 

“Pinky promise?” she probed. You stuck out your own pinky and hooked it with hers.

“Pinky promise,” you echoed, “shall we go help your Mommy prepare?”

Joy’s daughter nodded enthusiastically.

“Let’s go Daddy!” she squealed before running off to join the rest in the kitchen. You stared at the entrance to the kitchen, thinking about what you’d thrown yourself into in the name of love. You were gonna have to get used to it if you wanted to keep your word to both Joy and Yeon-su. 

Joy stuck her head out the door. 

“Hey. You coming?” she asked. You nodded and rose to your feet. 

With newfound energy, you joined your girlfriend in the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it would turn out, the food that you’d painstakingly prepared was not meant for you. 

“Every other week or so, my parents organise a neighbour gathering at our place,” Joy explained as she loaded a duffle bag full containing a few sets of Yeon-su’s clothes. She shut the trunk and scooped her daughter up into her arms. 

Joy had an arrangement with her parents. On the weekdays when she was working, Yeon-su would stay with Joy’s parents and attend school in the nearby kindergarten. On weekends, Soo-young would stay over at her parents place and spend time with Yeon-su. However, today called for special arrangements.

“Are we going into the city again Mommy?” Yeon-su asked, eyes pooling with hope. 

“Only if you want to,” Joy replied.

“Yay!” squealed the little girl in her arms. Joy smiled and opened the door to the backseat. She gently deposited her child into her vehicle and shut the door. 

“Everytime they have a gathering, I take Yeon-su into the city and we stay at my place,” Joy told you.

“So that’s why you have that guest room,” you mused. She smiled and fished out her car keys. 

“Excellent link Sherlock. Catch.”

She tossed her keys to you and rounded the vehicle to the passengers side. You chuckled and got into the driver’s seat. 

The drive into the city didn’t feel as long as it was. Once in town, you settled on a ramen place and had one of the best dinners of your life with Joy and Yeon-su. Of course, an excellent dinner called for an equally satisfying dessert. Yeon-su practically dragged you over to a Gelato shop that she’d spotted along the way and attempted to order a double scoop of sea salt caramel for herself. Unfortunately for Yeon-su, her mother stepped in and stopped the order from going through. 

In many ways, Yeon-su was a mini replica of her mother. They shared the same feistiness, had the same mischievous glint behind their eyes. Of course, good traits like respect had been passed down as well. Joy’s daughter dished out thanks and greetings to waiters like Oprah Whinfrey, earning her multiple smiles as your servers swooned over her. 

“I think she’ll grow to be a fine woman,” you mused, watching as Yeon-su deftly scaled up a playground ladder. Joy's head rested on your shoulder as she idly sipped her yoghurt drink. 

“You think so?” Joy inquired. You nodded. 

“Yea… You raised her didn’t you?” you asked. Joy chuckled.

“It takes a village to raise that girl…” Joy muttered, “I’m just glad that my parents are here for me and her… I don’t want to imagine what life would be like if I hadn’t gone back to Mom and Dad.”

You found her hand and laced your fingers with hers. You felt her smile on your shoulder.

She gave your hand a squeeze. 

“This is nice…” she whispered.

“Yea… It really is,” you chuckled. You were getting Deja vu from your time with her on the beach. 

“You know… Even though Yeon-su was an accident, I never regretted keeping her,” Joy confessed, “She’s… She’s the second best mistake I’ve ever made.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“Second best?” you mused, “What’s your best mistake then?”

“Do you really have to know?” she teased.

“I’d like to,” you answered. Joy giggled.

“Well since you insist,” she smiled, “I think… My best mistake was arriving late for that board meeting and sitting next to you.”

You could feel yourself blushing. 

“Aw shucks…” you muttered, “Hold up… Which part about that was the mistake?”

Soo-young shrugged and replied, “I guess we’ll never know…”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. 

“Sly fox…” you muttered. Joy chuckled, clearly proud of herself.

Yeon-su eventually tired herself out. With leadened feet, she trudged back over to the bench and asked to be carried. You gladly scooped her up into your arms, and the precious girl fell asleep on the way back to the car. 

You found yourself back in the same apartment where you’d been rejected five months ago. You didn’t let the bad memory get to your head as you carried Joy’s daughter into the apartment. She was sleeping like a brick, snoring lightly as you laid her down on the bed of Joy’s extra bedroom. You slipped off her shoes, brushed some hair out of her face and tucked her in for the night. Joy watched you from the door, a fond smile on her face as she observed you. 

“Something funny?” you asked once you caught her looking. Joy unfolded her arms and pushed off the doorframe.

“Nope,” she answered, “let’s go. Let her sleep.”

You switched off the light and walked out the room, shutting the door behind you as you left. Joy had brought out her wine glasses and her favourite bottle of white wine that she usually kept for celebrations. She sat on her couch, silently swirling her glass in her hand as you approached. Under the ample lighting of her apartment, you realised how tired she looked. Faint, dark rings circled the base of her eyes, her expression one of weariness. 

“You okay?” you checked in, settling down and pouring yourself a glass of wine. 

“Yea…” she replied, “Just a little tired.”

You sipped your beverage and leaned back on her couch.

“Wanna call it a day after this?” you offered. She shook her head. 

“Nah…” she grunted, “I still wanna talk with you.”

Soo-young sat up in her seat and reseted her face on her palm. 

“I missed you,” she whispered. 

“Me too,” you vocalised.

She uncrossed her legs. Her elbows rested on her thighs.

“It’s kinda funny isn’t it?” she asked you. 

“What is?”

She sipped out of her glass and said, “We’ve come full circle. This apartment… We started here didn’t we?”

You chuckled softly. 

“Shit…” you remarked, a soft smile on your face.

Joy set her glass down on the table. With a sigh, she laid down, her head resting on your lap. 

“Here… I first let my feelings for you manifest into actions right here,” she breathed, “I never thought that I’d be back here with you as my boyfriend… This is so crazy.”

Her statement made you think about one of the many questions you had for her. You stopped fiddling with your glass and set it down. You let your hands fiddle with Soo-young’s hair instead. 

“Why didn’t you tell me the real reason when I asked you out here?” you quarried. Joy closed her eyes and sighed.

“I… Don’t know,” she told you, “I… I guess I was just scared.”

“Scared of what?” you probed. 

“I… I was scared that I’d lose you…”

Your hands stopped. 

“Joy…” you began.

“I-I know… It’s cheesy, it’s stupid…” she laughed bitterly, “I know I should’ve just came clean to you there and then, but I was scared that you’d freak out and leave me all alone…”

Joy clasped her hands together. 

“I… I guess I was just afraid that you’d do what Yeon-su’s father did to me…” 

You exhaled, a dull throb in your chest. Even though you knew where Joy was coming from, you still felt a little betrayed. It hurt to know that she thought you’d ditch her like that… But then again, you figured that you’d probably think in a similar way if you went through the things she did. 

You cupped Joy’s cheek, your thumb tracing the firm bridge of her nose. 

“It’s alright Soo-young,” you assured her, “let’s stop talking about the past. We should focus on our future together.”

She opened her eyes and gazed up at you. 

“Future?” she echoed airily. You nodded and replied, “Yea… Me, you and Yeon-su…”

She rose from your lap and sat up straight. 

“Are you… Really okay with being Yeon-su’s father?” 

You raised your eyebrows and leaned back into the couch. You had no idea how to raise a kid, let alone care for a child that isn’t your own. But for some reason, you seemed to have a connection with Yeon-su that enabled you to see her as your own. It was inexplicable, but it was there.

“It’ll take some time to adjust, but I think I can do it,” you declared. Joy laid back down on your lap and smiled.

“I think you’ll be a great Dad,” she told you.

“You think so?” you asked. She nodded.

“I trust that you’ll do your best to take care of her…”

She reached for your hand. You gladly gave it to her. With a tender smile, she held your hand above your face, fidgeting and fiddling with your fingers. You let her do as she pleased. 

She let the moment last for a little longer before guiding your hand to her breasts. She laid your palm atop the right side of her chest. You could feel something poking your palm.

“No bra?” you mused. She bit her bottom lip.

“I was hoping to get lucky tonight,” she whispered.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Clothes were off, tongues were in mouths. Hands searched each other's bodies, grasping, groping—going about the process like you always did. It felt so familiar yet so fresh. 

“You sure Yeon-su won’t wake up?” you asked, brushing back the hair that fell in front of Joy’s face as she bobbed up and down between your legs. She let your cock pop out of her mouth, her hand delivering lazy but considerate strokes to your slick shaft. 

“She’s a heavy sleeper,” she assured you, “don’t you think you should’ve worried about this before I started sucking you off?”

“Probably,” you mused, “But then again, there’s always—”

A sharp gasp cut through your sentence as Joy shoved your cock between her ample breasts. The warmth of her mounds surrounded your shaft, hugging your cock perfectly as she began to move up and down, slowly grinding her chest against your slick, hard meat. Your shaft slid in and out between her breasts, her saliva providing an ample amount of lubrication. The size of her mounds was enough to wrap around your member. It wasn’t enough to make it fully disappear between her cleavage, but enough to bring you divine pleasure.

You were breathless, shocked by the pleasure Joy was giving you. She stuck out her tongue, making contact with your head and sending shocks of pleasure shooting up and down your spine. This was the first time she’d done anything like this. The unfamiliarity, the new sensations you experienced… Everything about it made your toes curl into the floor. 

“F-Fuck… Joy…” you groaned. 

“You like this don’t you?” she hissed, “you love watching me milk your cock with my tits don’t you?”

You nodded furiously. Joy smirked, hands squeezing her tits together even more.

For long, pleasureable minutes, Soo-young continued to push your rock hard cock in and out between her warm, slick tits. Her hands squeezed her tender flesh around your cock, fingers interlocking in front of your cock to keep you from slipping out of the lovely embrace of her cute, perfect tits. You watched Joy work, those doe-like eyes on that cheeky face, so warped with lust and need. It was hard to imagine that you were sharing a wholesome moment with her just minutes ago.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me cum Joy.”

Joy started to speed up.

“Then fucking cum,” she replied. She squeezed her breasts even tighter around you, spearing your harder and faster between her tits. She pumped her chest up and down faster, ground her chest against you harder, bottomed out as low as she could. You could feel your orgasm surging up your shaft, rapidly making its way from the base of your cock and seizing control over your senses.

“Soo-young…” you strain. 

“Give me all your cum baby. Fucking paint me…”

Then it hits like the full force of a Tsunami. You felt every single burst of hot semen that shot out from your shaft. The first rope spilled out past Joy’s breasts sending hot, warm cum up her collarbone and onto her jaw. She leaned her face back, letting the rest of your semen cum paint her upper body. Rope after rope covers her chest, some high flying shots hitting her face as she relentlessly continues to take you between her tits. 

It's only when your hand roughly grips her scalp that she slows to a stop. As you laid there panting, she took the time to clean your seed off her body. Cum gathered in her hands, disappearing into her mouth as she cleans herself thoroughly. 

“I missed making you explode like this,” she giggled, rising up to her feet. 

“Could… Tell…” you managed to retort through your laboured breaths. 

She straddled you atop the couch. Her hands cupped either side of your cheek, pulling you into a deep, burning kiss that seemed to still your pounding heart. 

“Let me know when you’re ready,” she rasped, moving down to give your neck some attention. You responded by grabbing a handful of her ass, gently kneading and squeezing the juicy flesh, relishing the feel of it spilling out past your fingers.

Her hand finds your shaft. Your hands hold her waist. 

“I’ve been thinking about you so much,” she told you, “I know I said this before but… I missed you.”

You let your hands roam her curvy body, making sure to linger in all her sensitive spots. 

“I’ve missed you too Soo-young,” you answered truthfully, “It’s been difficult…”

She raises her head, her eyes meeting yours. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You cupped her cheek, your thumb gently rubbing some saliva off her face.

“I know Soo-young… You’d never hurt me…”

She remained silent and lined your tip with her slit. She looked at you for permission, and you gave her a nod. She sank down onto you, your head splaying her slick, flushed lips as she impaled herself on your cock. A long, drawn out sigh leaves her mouth while she fills herself with your cock. You hold her steady, supporting her slim figure as her ass touches the base of your crotch.

Joy leaned forward. You met her with a kiss. Your hands played with her nipples, pinching and twisting to your heart's content as you made her moan into your mouth. She started to grind against you, letting her walls stretch out around your throbbing cock while her breath mixed with yours. 

She’d ridden you multiple times. In the office, in a chair, on the beach… But this was different now. This was more than just a search for pleasure, a carnal flurry of thrusts and cusses… 

There was no other way to describe it. It was love.

Joy raised her hips, drawing your shaft out of her body before coming down once more. She established a tender, slow rhythm as she rode you, grinding her warm, tight body against yours while her sighs filled your ear. You leaned against the backrest of the couch, drinking in the sight of Soo-young taking you in and out of her body. She rode you slowly, enjoying every entry and exit of your shaft, relishing the feel of your cock filling her to the brim.

Her slim, tight body rolled. Her perfect, alluring breasts bounced. The muscles of her thighs and hips contracted and relaxed on either side of you. Her hot body grinded against you, your shaft spearing her tight folds as she fucked herself on your cock. A long string of gasps and moans streamed from her mouth, punctuating every squelch of her dripping pussy and emphasising each thrust you made into her body.

“Fuck,” she manages to say, “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your cock...”

She started to ride you harder, faster—but only a little. You began to feel her pussy tightening around you, the telltale sign of her orgasm building inside her, leaking from her core to every part of her tight body. You brought your mouth hand to her left tit, sucking, licking, assaulting her flesh with your mouth. You drove upward slightly with your own hips, crashing your bodies together just a little harder, a little faster…

Joy’s hair flew behind her head as her head whipped back. 

“Oh fuck!” she cursed, sweat splattering the couch as you slowly brought her to new levels of pleasure. You could feel her racing heartbeat in her pussy, throbbing and pulsing around your cock as she continued her gradual acceleration. She doesn’t stop, her moans and gasps rising in volume in a gentle gradient. Her juices leaked down your shaft, fluids being swirled around the inside of her body as your shaft drives her closer and closer to the edge.

For the first time, Joy orgasmed silently. Her body tensed, her arms locking around your neck as her mouth freezes in the shape of an “O”. Her throat muscles seize, her walls squeezing and pulsating around you as you flushed her against you. It took a long minute for her to come down from her high, but you would gladly hold her tight, bare body for as long as she required. 

Her sweat stickied skin peels off yours. She found your lips once more, digging her tongue into the depths of your mouth. You let her regain her breath, gently caressing the curves of her delicious body as she rested atop of you. 

“Alright…” she finally whispered, “Where do you want to fill me?”

You instantly looked over at the window on your left. Joy followed your gaze, a gleam in her eyes.

“Full circle…” she mused, sliding off your shaft and walking over to the window. Her chest pressed against the glass, her ass sticking out, inviting you to enter her once more. You walks up behind her, slapping your still hard shaft against her ass cheeks. 

“Fuck me,” she hissed.

And you do just that. 

You pumped softly, slowly, enjoying every sensation that you experienced. Joy let her pleasure be known to you, a steady stream of airy sighs leaving her throat as you fucked her. Her palms pressed against the glass, leaving imprints like the rest of her naked body. Her fingers curled into the pane, releasing the pleasure that you gave her. The glass fogged with each breath she took, her sweet voice slightly muffled by the glass.

“Just like that… Fuck me… Fuck me honey.”

“I’m close” you grunted. Joy hummed, thrusting back onto your cock.

“Do it,” she whispered, her eyes cast over her shoulder as she held your gaze, “cum in me. Fill me. I’m… I’m yours…”

Your second orgasm for the night arrived. With one last thrust, you groaned and sent stream after stream of hot semen spurting into Joy’s willing depths. Soo-young let out a soft gasp as you empted yourself inside her, the heat of your seed flooding her freshly fucked pussy. Her body relaxes, slumping against the glass as you paint her insides white. 

It took time to recover. When both of you did, Joy met you with a glowing smile.

“I love you,” she whispered. Your cock slipped out of her pussy, warm cum slowly leaking out of her slit. 

“I love you too Soo-young…” you sighed. She tilted your head towards her, engaging you in the nth kiss for the night. 

Clothes were gathered and tossed into Joy’s room—There was a child in the house after all... Beneath the sheets, Soo-young cuddled up next to you and rested her head on your chest. 

“Good night,” she wished you, “wake me up when you want to tommorow…”

“Alright,” you answered, “sweet dreams Soo-young…”

Your hand rested on her head, gently combing through her sweat matted hair. You felt her smile against you. 

Things weren’t going to be the same for the both of you. From tomorrow onwards, you’d officially enter the day with Joy as your girlfriend. While the prospect was exciting, it admittedly scared you to no end. This was more than just a relationship between two people… There was a kid as well. You had to take care of both of them, and it wasn’t going to be easy.  But you knew that things would all be okay. You weren’t sure what made you feel oddly calm about your new predicament, but you weren’t stressing over it. 

With Soo-young by your side, you had a feeling that everything would be alright in the end. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whats goodie my gang. I decided to try something new with this fic, hope you guys like it :)). Thank you for stopping by and I will see you soon.

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 4: Settle Down

Tags: Mommy kink, orgasm denial, cumshot, rough sex, Anal

The meat sizzled on the grill, grease splattering all over the place. With a pair of thongs, Eunbi flipped the slice of pork over and let it sit for a little more. The rest of the band was engaged in conversation, their chatter becoming a faint buzz in your ears as you stared off into space.

Practice hadn’t gone well that day. After Chaewon stormed out of the room, yelling about how she’d refuse to play for your band for as long as you were in it, the pugnacious brat seemed to be the only thing your mind could focus on. Memories of her came flooding back at random intervals, making you lose focus in the midst of song. You earned a record high of 6 death glares from Yeji that afternoon. 

After practice, Eunbi pushed the idea of going to eat as a band. Everyone enthusiastically jumped on the bandwagon, including Yeji—Who was peer pressured by Ryujin to come—and you wound up at a barbeque place just down the street.

Someone tapped you on your hand. You looked up and found Eunbi staring at you. Concern was written all over her face.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked quietly, careful not to alert the other band members. You smiled and sat up in your seat. 

“I-I’m fine,” You assured her. 

“You sure? You’ve been out of it since this afternoon,” The singer pressed. 

“I’m okay Eunbi,” You reiterated. Eunbi sighed and picked up the pork slice. She placed it down on your plate. 

“If there’s anything you need to talk about… I’m here. In fact, we’re here,” Eunbi smiled, gesturing towards the other band members. 

“I-I’m really fine Eunbi…” You stated. “I’m just… Thinking…”

Eunbi nodded thoughtfully and got another serving of meat going on the grill. She stared into the fire for a moment. 

“Look I… I’m sorry that I brought Chaewon in,” She muttered. “I… I should’ve known…”

“It’s alright Eunbi… I didn’t expect you to,” You comforted your singer. 

The girl sighed. She took a sip from her cup. 

“When did you guys start?” Eunbi asked. 

“Dating?” You confirmed. She nodded.

“Start of highschool,” You told her.

“When did you guys break up?” She continued. 

“About a month or two after graduation,” You replied. 

Eunbi drew in a breath. 

“Damn…  Two years together… That’s quite a bit of history,” She mused. You chuckled bitterly.

“I guess…” You mused. 

“Yo Squeaker!” Ryujin called out to you. “Be a darling and hand me the garlic would’ya?”

You grabbed the small dish of sliced garlic and slid it down the table. Your bassist caught it and shot you a wink. 

“Thanks babe,” She giggled. She’d gotten bolder with you since you first met her and you knew exactly why. 

“Ryujin seems to like you,” Eunbi told you. 

“Ryujin likes everyone,” You replied. 

“Fair enough,” Your singer hummed. “She is one hell of an extrovert.”

You nodded and took a sip of your beer, the bitter liquid washing down the aftertaste of meat. Eunbi distributed the new batch of freshly grilled beef.

“So…” She continued, dragging both of you back to the original topic—Chaewon.

“Let me guess… Why did you guys break up?” You predicted. When it came to Exes, this was a common question that was always thrown out. 

“Yea…” Eunbi muttered bashfully.

“I’d… I’d rather not talk about it,” You told her frankly. She understood and didn’t press any further into your history with Chaewon. She knew better than to re-open old wounds.

Yeji shoved the last piece of meat on her plate into her mouth. After wiping her greasy lips, she rose from her seat and shouldered her guitar bag. 

“It’s late, I’ll get going,” The guitarist declared. 

“It’s eight p.m. Yeji,” Ryujin pointed out. Yeji stepped out and pushed her chair in.

“That’s late enough for me. I have things to do. Bye guys.”

The girl turned tail and left, leaving the five of you behind. Ryujin sighed.

“That girl is too uptight,” The bassist remarked. “Someday, I’ll bring her to a party and get the fun back in her…”

“I’m sure she has her reasons for being the way she is,” Karina reasoned. “Maybe she lives  in a really serious environment.”

“Girl, she lives with her sister,” Ryujin countered. “Yeju’s the embodiment of a crackhead, and her husband is even better!”

“Who’s Yeju?” Eunbi inquired. 

“Yeji’s older sister,” Ryujin replied. “Yeji’s been living with her and her husband since she was in highschool, they got a really cosy place not too far from here. I love crashing there.”

Ryujin popped a beef slice wrapped in lettuce into her mouth and chewed it rather loudly.

“How do you know this much about Yeji?” Sakura piped. Ryujin swallowed.

“I’ve known her since middle school. She’s changed a lot since then, but the old Yeji’s somewhere in there,” Ryujin said. She took a sip from her cup then stared at the golden-yellow liquid inside it. 

“Sometimes I wonder what happened to old Yeji…” The bassist muttered. “She wasn’t like this before…”

You silently ate your slice of meat, silently observing Ryujin in her moment of thought that only lasted for a little over a second. Ryujin eventually pouted and set her glass back down.

“Oh well… I guess we’ll never know,” She sighed. She proceeded to raise her hand and call for another round of beer. 

You only left the barbeque place a little past midnight. Thanks to your self control, you managed to stay sober along with Eunbi, who had been too busy cooking for the band to take a sip out of her own glass. You held the door open for Karina, letting her walk out of the door with Ryujin straddling her back. Your bassist had once again gone to town with the alcohol, but she got knocked out this time around. 

“Jesus christ… She’s heavier than I remembered,” Karina grunted. 

“N-Need me to help?” You offered. Your pianist shook her head. 

“It’s alright Myeong-seok. I can manage her,” Karina assured you. “Kkura! Help me hail a cab will you?” 

“N-Ne!” Sakura squeaked.

“Let me give you guys a lift,” Eunbi offered.

“It’s good Eunbi… There’s a cab right there,” Karina declined, using her head to gesture to the taxi that happened to be cruising down the street. Sakura quickly ran to the sidewalk and stuck out her hand to flag it down. The vehicle came to a stop before the Japanese girl. Karina shot you and Eunbi a smile before hustling over to the cab.

“Be safe! Text when you guys are back!” Eunbi hollered. Karina yelled something in reply, but her words were muffled by the wind that blew by. Sakura opted to hop in with Karina and Ryujin at the last second, and the cab took off into the night. You stood next to Eunbi, watching as the tail light of the taxi moved further and further away till they disappeared from sight. 

“So… How are you getting home?” Eunbi asked you. 

“I’ll probably walk back to campus to catch a bus,” You answered. 

“Let me send you home,” She offered. 

“I-It’s okay Eunbi… I can get home on my own,” You assured her. 

“Fine… Suit yourself I guess,” She sighed. “Come on… We both gotta walk back to campus to get home don’t we?”

You smiled awkwardly and nodded. The two of you set off into the night, walking side by side as you made your way back to campus. Admittedly, it was a little awkward walking back with your singer. Even though you’d slept with her that one time, you still were a little tense around Eunbi. Maybe it was her demeanour, or maybe it was that dazzling face… You didn’t know why you still got nervous around her.

“Weather’s nice tonight, isn’t it?” She mused. 

“Y-Yea… I-I guess…” You answered.

“Do you always answer questions with ‘Yea’ and ‘I guess’? I swear that’s the only thing I hear out of you sometimes.”

You blushed.

“S-Sorry,” You apologised. Eunbi chuckled and playfully smacked your arm.

“Relax Myeong-seok, just having some fun with you,” She clarified. “Jeez… You’re really tense sometimes you know?” 

You chuckled nervously.

“I uh… I’m not really an extrovert,” You admitted. 

“I can tell,” Eunbi replied. “Knew it from the moment you stepped into the studio.”

You managed a sheepish laugh.

“D-Didn’t know it was that obvious,” You mused. 

“Oh it’s painfully obvious,” She told you. “You always look so shocked whenever any of us speak to you. It’s kinda cute to be honest.”

Eunbi laughed softly to herself, kicking aside a small pebble on the pavement. 

“So… How have your first few weeks with us been?” She asked, changing the direction of the conversation. 

“It’s… It’s been fun so far,” You said. 

“Are the practices too intense at times?” She continued. 

“Sometimes…” You answered carefully. “But uh… I-I can cope with it…”

Eunbi fixed you with a look. 

“You sure? Cause that glove on your hand really isn’t helping your case,” She remarked. You hid your blistered hand behind your back. 

“T-That’s my fault… I… Pushed myself a little too hard,” You replied. Eunbi chuckled.

“Alright, alright… Whatever you say Mr Drummer,” She joked. “Just let me know if you feel a little overwhelmed, okay? I’ll help you out as much as I can.”

“I uh… Thanks…” You managed to reply her. She gave you a pat on your shoulder.

“No problem,” Eunbi said. “I wanna make sure that you’re having a great time with us. Fun first, musicality second. No exceptions.”

She gave you a bright smile. Your breath hitched for a second. You turned away to hide the blush on your cheeks.

The two of you stopped at a traffic junction to wait for the green man to make his appearance. Eunbi started to hum a soft tune to herself, rocking back and forth on her heels while she looked around her. It was an old song, one of those upbeat 80s rock songs that your Mom used to play over the small CD player in your apartment. You couldn’t figure out which song it was, but the tune brought a small smile to your face as bits of nostalgia set in. 

Eunbi casted a glance towards you. Noticing the look on your face, she couldn’t help but ask, “What’s got you smiling like that?” 

“S-Sorry,” You quickly apologised. “The song you were humming… It just reminded me of my Mom…”

“Oh, I see…” She nodded. “Your mom listened to rock?”

“Die hard Van Halen fan. She has all the CDs, treats them better than me,” You disclosed. 

“Introduce me to her, I think we’d be great friends,” Eunbi chuckled. 

The red man disappeared, and the green man began walking on the display. You crossed the street with Eunbi and continued on your journey back to campus. A slight breeze blew by, ruffling your hair as leaves skidded across the pavement. You silently watched Eunbi from the corner of your eye, your head reeling as you thought of something to talk about. Alas, Eunbi beat you to it.

“You wanna know something?” Eunbi piped. 

“What?” You replied, urging her to continue.

“I…” Eunbi trailed off. “Ah nevermind…” 

You blinked, a little stunned. 

“O-Oh… Okay…”

You walked in silence for a little more. 

“How are your parents?” She suddenly inquired. 

“O-Oh… They’re good, busy running their Vet clinic in the city,” You told her. 

“Your parents are Vets?” Eunbi mused.

“Yea… It’s kinda sweet,” You remarked. 

“Sounds kinda romantic doesn’t it? A husband and wife in the same profession and they run a clinic together,” She chuckled. “That’s some wholesome stuff… Love it.”

You let out a soft laugh. 

“I guess you could say that…” You said. “How about you Eunbi? How are your parents?”

Eunbi went silent for a little.

“They’re uh… They’re good,” She answered after a second or two. 

“Are they still working?” you inquired. 

“I uh… Don’t know,” Eunbi shrugged. “I haven’t heard from them in a while. Last I checked, they were fine.” 

Judging from her answer, you had a feeling that further questioning wasn’t the best idea. You weren’t the best person to confide in when it came to other people’s personal issues, you let more qualified people handle those. You could never really think of what to say to comfort someone having an absolute breakdown before you, nor did you have the skills to offer any sort of advice to them. You tried to help once—It didn’t go well. 

The mood seemed to dampen after your attempt to make conversation with Eunbi. In your heart, you could sense that something happened to her over the course of your questioning. You weren’t sure what happened, but you were certain that it was your fault. 

“H-Hey… I-I’m sorry if I brought up a touchy subject,” You began to apologise. 

“O-Oh i-it’s fine,” Eunbi allayed you. “You did nothing wrong… The beer’s just kicking in… Getting a little woozy, you know?”

A strong gut feeling told you that she was lying her ass off, but you knew better than to pry into her personal life. The rest of the walk was filled with the awkward silence that you originally started the walk with. The joy seemed to have been sapped out of Eunbi. You silently cussed yourself out for asking the wrong questions. 

It didn’t take long for the both of you to get back to campus. The bus stop was in sight, and you subconsciously quickened your pace to get to the stop. 

“Oh… Are you leaving already?” Eunbi asked. You turned to face her. 

“S-Sort of? The bus stop’s right there…” You answered. Her face visibly fell a little.

“Oh… Alright then… See you around,” She said with a wave. A pang of shame twisted your heart, but You returned the gesture and turned tail to walk away.

The lights of the bus stop were getting closer and closer. You could feel Eunbi’s presence grow further and further from you. It was like the lingering fuzz in your arm after you woke up from sleeping on it, slowly fading till it disappeared. As you stepped under the shelter of the bus stop, an odd sense of emptiness filled your core. Your attempts to shake it off were futile. 

Your bus was coming towards the stop. You turned to look at Eunbi’s figuring getting smaller and smaller as she walked back into the campus. 

The bus came to a screeching stop before you, the doors sliding open to welcome you in. The soft lights within the vehicle cajoled you, urging you to stop in and have a seat in the empty bus, but the usual pull to enter wasn’t there.

“Hey! You getting on?” the bus captain asked you, looking rather ticked off. You looked him in the eye.

You turned and ran back towards the campus. Your legs carried you with renewed energy, an invisible rope pulling you towards your destination. You managed to catch Eunbi just as she was about to enter the turnstyle. 

“Eunbi!” You called her. She whipped around.

“The fuck? Why are you back?” she questioned. You rested your hands on your knees. 

“I… I think… I could use a lift,” You panted. Eunbi blinked, looking a little taken aback. The look of shock didn’t last too long, the corners of her lips pulled up into a gleaming smile. 

“Cool,” She said. “Let’s get you home then.”

~~~

You’d expected her to ask to come into your place from the moment she pulled into the parking lot of your Apartment complex, yet her question still caught you off guard. You didn’t have the heart to turn her down. 

“Hm… Looks cozy,” Eunbi mused as she strolled into your apartment.

“I-It’s not much…” You chuckled shamefully. You weren’t expecting guests any time soon, so you hadn’t really done much of a clean up. One of your hoodies was strewn over the sole chair at your foldable table that functioned as your dining table. Unwashed plates and cups were in your kitchen sink, and you were half certain that that spot where you spilled some apple juice on the floor was still kind of sticky. 

“You look like you don’t receive guests often…” Eunbi mused, picking up your ACDC shirt that was strewn across your beanbag. You’d thrifted it a couple of days ago but hadn’t washed it yet.

“W-Well I uh…” You struggled to answer. “I… Don’t invite people in… At all…”

Eunbi giggled and set the shirt back down. 

“So am I the first person to enter your place?” She inquired. You rubbed the back of your neck. 

“If you don’t count my parents? Yea…” You blushed.

“Hm… Cool.”

Eunbi proceeded to do a little more exploration. She entered your bedroom, which you’d thankfully packed a couple of nights before due to a sudden motivation to do so at 3 in the morning. She casually looked through most of your things, skimming through folders and examining photos like she was given the permission to do so. You trusted her enough to not protest against her actions. 

“You know… You’re neater than I expected,” Your singer mused. 

“Thanks,” You replied. Eunbi set down the photo album in her hand and turned to face you.

“So… When can we get to fucking?”

Her blunt choice of words combined with her too casual tone threw you completely off guard. 

“H-Huh?” You couldn’t help but stutter. 

“Damn… I thought you’d take the hint when I asked to come up,” Eunbi sighed. 

“I… What?”

Eunbi folded her arms. 

“Jesus Christ Myeong-seok… Have I not dropped enough hints on the ride back?”

Admittedly, you weren’t paying attention for about 90% of the ride. You simply nodded and hummed in response to most of Eunbi’s questions and said “oh… cool” to a majority of her statements. In hindsight, you should’ve paid a little more attention. 

Eunbi walked towards you, a slight sway in her hips. 

“Get on the bed sweetie,” She purred. 

“E-Eunbi—”

“Don’t talk back to mommy.”

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as Eunbi stared you down. The power dynamic had shifted, the balance tipping towards Eunbi. This was no longer a friend-to-friend bonding moment. Eunbi wanted you, here and now. There was nothing you could say or do to change her resolve.

You were hesitant, but you slowly walked over to your own bed and sat down on the edge of it. Eunbi walked over to the door and closed it, then she strutted over to you.

“You know what to do, don’t you?” She asked. 

“Yes… Mommy,” You answered. 

“Good. Now strip.”

You complied somewhat willingly, your arms and hand moving on their own to pull your t-shirt off your body. Eunbi was gracious enough to help you out of your pants and underwear, pulling the articles of clothing right off your legs and tossing them into a corner of your room. She settled next to you and gripped your semi-hard shaft. She squeezed it not too gently and slowly pumped you to full measure.  

“Fuck… I forgot just how big you were,” She whispered right into your ear. Her breath tingled your skin. Her hand quickly set itself into a rhythm. 

“You know… I should’ve called you for a booty call sooner,” Eunbi mused, her free hand beginning to explore your body. “Searching for a trumpet player’s gotten mommy so pent up, should’ve called you for some form of… relief.”

You let a soft sigh escape from your lips. Eunbi giggled next to you. 

“Shall I play with you for a bit? Or should I just get right to it like I did last time?” She asked you. Her nails traced shapes on the nape of your neck. She was slowly breaking you down and weaving herself in the holes of your resolve, taking control of you. You knew it, but you couldn’t stop it. Her hand sped up, delivering full long strokes to your throbbing length while Eunbi began her assault on your ear. She nibbled, she licked and kissed, slowly tuning your senses into overdrive. You were her toy to play with. 

“I think… I should play with you for a little,” Eunbi finally decided. “Get you all riled up, then dMake you cum all over me… How does that sound?”

You weren’t in a good state to give her a reply, but Eunbi took the soft whimper that left your throat as a reply.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.”

Her hand stopped abruptly, freeing you from the spikes of pleasure that’d begun to surge from your crotch area. Eunbi gracefully slipped off the bed, deftly positioning herself on her knees before your twitching shaft. She stroked with consideration, taking her time with you as she let her forefinger and thumb apply pressure to your tip before letting her hand glide to the base of your cock. You stifled a moan, your hands stiff at your sides. The pinkness of her tongue poked out from between her lips. She lowered her head, letting you feel the heat against the tip of your cock. Ou squirmed. She smirked.

Her tongue made contact, teasing your tip with the moistness of her tongue. Every muscle in your body seemed to seize up, responding to her toying. Eunbi made sure to keep your eyes locked on hers as she licked the underside of your length. The softness and warmth made you grit your teeth as you watched her lather up the bottom side of your member. You’d slept with her once, yet she somehow seemed to have found an optimal way to bend you to her will. It was cruel of her—yet something about the way she took her time to paint your length in her spit aroused you to new extents. You twitched wildly in her grasp, each small flick of her tongue sending you gasping and grunting in ways you had no idea you were capable of.

Once your singer was satisfied with the control she’d established over you, she released your cock from the grip of her slender fingers. Spreading your legs further apart to allow for better access, she drawled, “Relax baby… Let Mommy please you.”

She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and rested her palms on your thighs. Before you could even process what was going on, the warmth of Eunbi’s little mouth surrounded your length, lips wrapping around your shaft. You couldn’t fight back a groan.

Sloppy… No, incredibly fucking sloppy was the best way to describe the way Eunbi pleasured you with her mouth. She let the drool flow freely from the corners of her mouth, the frothy fluid sliding down your cock unchallenged as Eunbi had her way with the hard, throbbing meat in her mouth. Glossy pink lips followed a strict path—up, down, up, down—relentlessly slobbering over your shaft while applying a near perfect amount of suction around you as she kept her pace. She was a deadly woman of consistency, each bottom of her stroke aiming to take in more and more of your member into the back of her throat. Her eyes visibly watered, but her resolve remained. 

You knew better than to rest your hands anywhere on her body, opting to crumple your sheets with a knuckle-white grip. You could possibly choke the life out of a grown man in seconds. She knew her way around you, the lustful fire in her eyes conveying the joy she derived from making you squirm in your seat while her not too gentle hands fondled with your spit covered sack. Spots danced before your eyes, your world spinning in the handling of Eunbi. 

Your cock popped out of her mouth, a mix of pre-cum and spit dripping from your tip. 

“You’re awfully quiet baby,” She told you, hand lazily pumping your slippery shaft with full strokes. “How will Mommy know if she’s doing a good job if you don’t moan for me?”

She was a playfully cruel woman. A dark part of you enjoyed this side of your singer…

When she took your cock back into the willing depths of her mouth, you made sure to vocalise your pleasure as much as you could. You caught the faint trace of a smirk on her face as she resumed her work. In and out; disappearing and reappearing—You couldn’t get enough of the way Eunbi blew you. 

When she decided that she’d played with you for long enough, Eunbi sadly released your throbbing length from the warmth of her mouth. Wordlessly, she rose to her knees and ridded herself of her clothes. No teasing, no antics. Eunbi was horny and she needed cock, your cock. 

She pushed you back, your shoulders impacting your mattress as Eunbi straddled you. She lifted herself up slightly, her hand reaching back to grab your swollen length and line it up with the entrance to her slit. She wasted no time in hilting you inside of her, a soft cry leaving her lips as she planted her hands on your chest. 

“Fuck… Your cock feels so fucking good inside of me,” She hissed. She raised her hips slightly and slammed herself back down onto you, earning a sharp gasp from you. Eunbi smiled wickedly. 

“Let’s see how long you last inside Mommy’s pussy… Don’t cum till I let you”

She took off. Eunbi rode you fiercely, roughly, taking you in and out of her tight wet slick. She was oblivious to your comfort, the only thing concerning her being filling herself over and over with your thick, hard cock. Eunbi’s nails dug into your chest, her face wild and brimming with need. Beads of sweat had begun decorating her curvaceous body, milky skin glistening under the dim lighting of your bedroom. 

“Fuck baby… So… Fucking… Full!”

She leaned down and crashed her lips against yours. Her tongue invades your month. You let her in. You were helpless, completely unable to resist Eunbi as she took her pleasure from your body. In a weird, twisted way—you were savouring every second of it. The way her pussy clenched tightly around you, so slick and so tight. The way she ripped her gaze from your eyes to cast her head back, sending locks of jet-black hair flying as she sighed and moaned her pleasure. The way her hips and thighs never slowed nor lost their rhythm… So much to take in; so much to feel.

“You love… My pussy don’t you? Do you like… how I fuck your cock with it?” Eunbi hissed between lustful moans. She thrusted her hips against yours, thighs crashing against your hips while your cock speared through her folds.

“Y-Yes Mommy… I-I love your pussy so much!” Came your reply. Eunbi pulled you upright aggressively. 

“Suck my tits baby,” She commanded. You were more than happy to obey.

Her hands gripped your hair and pulled you into her chest. Your face crashed against her breasts, the warm, delicious cleavage between them filled with her sweat. You quickly latched your mouth onto her left nipple and sucked greedily. Eunbi let out a strangled gasp of pleasure.

“That’s it baby… Just like that…” Eunbi spurred you.

You feasted on her breasts, tongue licking and swirling—Giving her the works. Her hips moved a little quicker, no longer taking your entire length into her pussy. Instead, she withdrew only half way before plunging down again to drive you faster and harder inside her tight, drenched pussy. Her juices flowed freely, coating the insides of her thighs and your crotch. Her sighs became shallower and shallower by the minute.

“Baby… You’re gonna make Mommy… Oh god… Oh fucking go—”

Ironically enough, the one who wanted to test how long you could last came first. Her entire body is struck by a bolt of pleasure, quivering, shaking and trembling involuntarily. Cusses spill out of her mouth, paired with intermittent cries of pleasure and other exclamations. From between her tits you could see Eunbi’s features twist, face wracked with pleasure as she holds you firmly against her chest. You yourself were fighting back your own orgasm. Rules set by Eunbi were rules that must be followed.

It took forever for Eunbi to wind down, but the wait was worth it as her hands slackened, allowing you to pull back and witness her bask in the glow of her orgasm. The need for control disappeared for just a little bit, the natural softness behind those eyes returning for a second while she gazed passionately into her eyes. You pulled her in for a kiss, earning yourself a soft moan into your mouth. 

When she pulled away, you could sense the slight change in her demeanour. She smiled warmly and cradled your face in her hands.

“You okay?” She whispered. You nodded, she giggled. 

“Good, cause I still need more.”

Your living room was the next location. She tossed away the ACDC shirt on the beanbag and bent herself over it, looking back to catch your gaze.

“Don’t keep Mommy waiting,” Eunbi rasped. You weren’t one to make a woman wait. You got down on your knees behind her, your tip lined up with her dripping slit. 

“Wait,” She stopped you. “My ass. Fuck my ass.”

She reached back and spread her ample ass cheeks apart for you. You lined your tip up with her asshole. 

“Be quick,” Eunbi instructed. You nodded and pushed right in. Your shaft, lubricated with Eunbi’s juices and saliva, slipped seamlessly into her warm, tight hole. Eunbi yelped, her hand gripping your beanbag. 

“Fuck…” She hissed. “Forgot… How that felt like…”

You gave Eunbi a moment to adjust, content with fondling her ass cheeks as Eunbi drew deep breaths. 

“Okay,” She finally sighed after a minute or two. “Go.”

One word was all you needed to know how she wanted to be fucked. You pumped in and out of her tight little hole, Eunbi rocking back into you with each thrust you made into her body. For what felt like hours, you continued to fuck Eunbi’s hot ass, shaft drilling in and out from between her asscheeks as sighs of pleasure escaped her throat. You took the risk and let your hands roam the curves of Eunbi’s body, reaching around her to grab ahold of her full tits and playing with the soft flesh of her butt. She let you do as you please, focusing on pounding back onto your cock. Her sighs filled your ears, hypnotising you in the sound of her sensual voice. The warmth of her ass roped you deeper into your lust, the scent of her perfume mixing with the smell of her sweat.

“Oh fuck… Oh fuck fuck fuck,” She let the filth spill forth. “God I feel so fucking full… Your cock always fills me up just the way I like…”

She propped herself up on her hands, her slim tummy resting on the bean bag. 

“Keep going baby… You’re… You’re doing such a good job,” she praised between gasps. It was taking everything in your body to keep you from unloading into Eunbi’s ass right there and then. Nonetheless, you persevered. 

Eunbi’s moans coaxed you, her soft sighs spurring you—Every little thing she did while you fucked her drove you wild. You could feel your cock pulsing inside of her, aching to release rope after rope of cum into that tight little ass of hers. All that riding done by Eunbi had already driven you close.

Eunbi definitely knew that you were at your upper limit, but that didn’t stop her from making things harder for you. 

“Speed up,” She prompted with a smirk. “And don’t you dare cum till I let you.”

“But—”

She shot you a glare that silenced you. 

“One more word and I’ll make sure that you’ll never cum tonight,” She warned. Not taking her seriously would be a stupid decision, but you weren’t certain how much longer you could last inside of her. 

Following orders, you picked up the semi-frantic pace. Eunbi tilted her head back, spine arching in a delicious curve. You could see the smirk on her face. It was killing you. 

You couldn’t hold on anymore. Your thrusts into her ass shallowed, your breath quickening as you prepared to let loose. 

“M-Mommy,” You groaned. 

“Don’t you dare.”

“I-I… I can’t!” 

Eunbi abruptly slid forward, withdrawing herself from your cock. She whipped around and gripped your cock tightly, squeezing it in a vice grip as she stared right into your soul. 

“Don’t,” She whispered flatly. “Don’t make Mommy punish you baby…” 

Her grip on your member was not helping to reduce the pressure in your cock. You could feel yourself leaking, your length twitching wildly in Eunbi’s hand. She laid a hand on your chest. 

“Good boy,” She praised once your breathing had settled. “Mommy will let you cum when she’s satisfied, so you better be at your best performance for the rest of the night.”

You gulped and nodded, knowing full well that she meant every word she said. You were in for a rough time.

She tortured you for the rest of the night, making you fuck her in all sorts of positions that drove you insanely close to the edge. Each time she sensed your impending orgasm, she forced you out of her and squeezed your member rather painfully. She made you fuck her over the sink, rail her on the bed, eat her out on the desk… The list went on and on. She kept you painfully close to the edge the whole time, making sure to put on an increasing lewd display of pleasure as you progressed into the night. It got to a point where a perpetual tingle lingered in your crotch area. It was like an itch that you couldn’t scratch. 

Your torture amounted to something at the end of it all. As Eunbi laid on your floor, spent from her nth orgasm of the night, she coaxed you towards her. With your jelly like legs, you somehow managed to waddle on your knees towards her. 

“Kneel… Over me,” She rasped. You did as you were told. With what remaining strength she had left, she reached up and began pumping away at your shaft. With satisfaction written all over her face, she uttered two words. 

“Paint me.”

The orgasm that you experienced would go down in your records as the definition of an explosive orgasm. You felt every burst of semen that shot out from your shaft, cries of pleasure leaving your mouth in streams as Eunbi milked every last drop out of you. Rope after rope painted her tight body, your seed leaving no bit of skin uncovered. Even when the orgasm subsided, warm spurts of cum still leaked out of you, oozing from your tip and dripping onto your singer below you.

Your legs eventually gave way. You crashed down next to her. With a face and body full of cum, she smiled and whispered into your ear. 

“Next time… I’ll let you cum in me…”

~~~

You both collectively decided to skip classes the next day. Eunbi spent the morning at your place, sauntering around your apartment in nothing but her panties and one of your Led Zeppelin shirts. She proved to be an excellent cook, whipping up an excellent breakfast with what you had in the fridge. Pairing Eunbi’s masterful cooking with a rather pathetic cup of instant coffee, you sat down on the floor with Eunbi to have one of the best meals you’d ever eat. 

“God… This is so good,” You told her. Eunbi giggled.

“Please, it’s just a simple meal,” She humbly replied. 

“Simplicity is good sometimes,” You shrugged. Eunbi smiled warmly. 

“Glad you like it.”

It felt like the distance between the two of you had closed after last night. You found yourself  feeling oddly comfortable around her, finding that you could hold a conversation with her without ever descending into awkward silence. You were glad that you got the sudden urge to run after her the night before. 

Before she left, she helped you to clean up the mess you’d both made. Surfaces were scrubbed clean, floors wiped till it sparked. Only when she’d made the place cleaner than when she first arrived did she dress herself in her jeans from last night.

“I’ll return your shirt to you next practice,” She assured you, slipping on her sneakers. “Or maybe you could call me over again…”

You blushed. 

“I think I uh… I think I’ll lay off for a bit,” You muttered. Eunbi giggled mischievously.

“Suit yourself,” She shrugged. “See you next practice then.”

Eunbi left your place, leaving you alone for the rest of the day. You used the rest of the daytime to catch up on some work. Somewhere in the evening, a knock came on your door. You set your pen down and hurried over to open it. When you did, a kind-looking young lady greeted you enthusiastically.

“Hello! I’m Yeju, pleased to meet you!” She beamed. You could feel the positive energy radiating off her. She looked familiar for some reason.

“O-Oh… Hi,” You greeted her. 

“I’m your new neighbour. I just moved into the apartment down the hall yesterday,” She explained to you. “Just wanted to drop by and say a quick hello! Hope we can be great friends!” 

It felt like you were the only introvert in this world. You smiled awkwardly and nodded. 

“N-Nice to meet you Yeju… I-I’m Myeong-seok,” You smiled.

“Wow! You share the same name as my husband!” Yeju laughed loudly. “Small world huh?”

“I-I guess…” You chuckled.

The lady’s name rang a bell in your head, but you couldn’t remember when and where you heard the name from. Fortunately for you, your memory was about to get jogged. 

“Oh! And before I forget,” The lady continued. “Let me introduce you to my sister!” 

She stepped aside. Hwang Yeji stared right back at you, fixing you with her signature death glare. You felt like you were about to shit yourself. 

With an icy cold look, she locked eyes with you and said, “I can’t fucking believe that we’re neighbours now…” 

--------------------

Hai. Wats popping kings and queens.

This was long overdue and I apologies for my procrastination. Hope ya'll enjoy this fic that I re-wrote 4 times because it was funk at the start. Thanks for stopping by to read and have a nice day :).

[nichuuu]

Yeowooya

Tags: Smut, creampie, facial, handjob, teasing, subby joy, doggy, riding, fluff(?) Word count: 6k++

The clacking of your keyboard filled the empty office. Your eyes throbbed in their sockets, begging you for some sort of rest from your computer screen. The minute hand of the clock was slowly approaching the 12 mark on the clock, it would be 1 am soon. Regardless, you were determined to put in those extra hours and finish this damn proposal. With a sip of some extra strong coffee, you let the caffeine take over your senses. You mindlessly typed away, words appearing on the document faster than your mind could process. 

Your teammates had gone out drinking again. Unlike them, you had a sense of responsibility in you, so you were the one who stayed to finish the last leg of the proposal. While your so-called “teammates” were busy celebrating god knows what, you were slaving away in your space, fingers achy and joints sore. 

“Wow… Hard working as ever…” 

You looked up. A familiar face smiled back at you over the cubicle.

“Not now Soo-young,” You huffed, looking back at your screen. From your peripheral vision, you saw the woman pout. 

“Aw… Why so grumpy?” She teased you. You glared at her. 

“I said: Not now,” You repeated yourself. Joy rolled her eyes.

“Fine…” She sighed. Her head disappeared behind the wall of your prison, re-appearing from the entrance to your cubicle. 

“Is it me? Or does this place get messier and messier each time I visit?” She mused.

“Keep your hands off my shit,” You warned her, eyes not leaving the screen.

“I’ll do what I please, thank you.”

You heard her rummaging through some papers on your desk. You wanted to whip around and just let her have it right there, but you were so close to completing your task. Forcing yourself to stay laser focused, you pushed yourself a little more. Your fingers moved faster, the frequency of the clacking increasing. At some point, you felt Soo-young looking over your shoulder, watching silently as words appeared on screen. Then she went back to poke her nose into the papers on your desk. 

“Damn… This paper was dated 2 years ago!” You heard her mutter. “He really needs to sort his shit out…”

More rustling came from behind you. You were on the final stretch now, just a few more sentences left. You could feel your heart beating faster in excitement as you made your way towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

Alas, you typed out the final word. A rather loud yell of victory left your mouth as you saved your work. You crashed back in your chair, feeling more relieved than you’d ever had before. 

“Oh my god… Never again…” You grimaced, massaging your tired eyes. 

“This all seems like a you problem not gonna lie,” Joy chimed in. You opened your eyes. 

“Joy… Please shut the fuck up,” You requested. In response, she dragged your chair out and spun you in a circle. You yelped, quickly planting your feet down in the ground to stop yourself. God forbid those 4 cups of coffee came out of you.

“You’re done with your work! Stop being a grumpy old fart!” Soo-young reminded you. You sighed. 

“Stop nagging. You remind me of my Eomma,” You told her. She scoffed. 

“Maybe you should take better care of yourself. That way I can stop taking care of you like you’re a little kid,” Joy retorted. You wanted to argue against her statement, but she had a fair point.

“Fair enough,” You relented. 

“That’s what I thought bitch boy,” She sneered playfully. You chuckled.

You weren’t sure how to describe your relationship with Soo-young. You started off as complete strangers to each other, strangers that worked 2 desks away and always seemed to go to the same spot for lunch everyday. One fine day, she sat down next to you in the middle of a meeting—she was half an hour late—and introduced herself to you. You spent the long hours of the meeting entertaining yourselves in hushed, clandestine conversations, stopping only when your boss turned back to face the zombie crowd. At the end, you made yourself a new friend and exchanged numbers with her. 

Months passed. You got closer to Soo-young, close enough to call her what all her friends called her.

“They call me Joy,” She told you one morning over some doughnuts and coffee. 

“Joy?” You mused. She shrugged. 

“Yea… I never really understood why, but the name stuck.”

You would come to understand why with time. She truly lived up to her namesake, her bright, contagious smile and her amusing personality making her a true Joy to be around. You liked her company, it made the office feel like less of a slave plantation. 

Your relationship with her was simple up til Christmas day. She invited you back to her place for a couple of drinks after an office party, and you gladly obliged. A few jokes, some snacks and quite a few glasses of wine later, your clothes were discarded together with Joy’s and you were taking her against the window of her apartment. After your fling with her that night, you two made a mutual agreement: What happened would be a one time thing. You were friends, simple as that.

However, neither of you really kept to the first part of the agreement. It was broken just a few weeks after when Joy pulled you into a storage room and sucked your cock.The she proceeded to take your cock up her pussy, your hand clasped around her mouth to prevent anyone from hearing her moans. You broke the agreement two months later, guiding her away from the poolside party at a friends house, ripping her bikini off her and fucking her senseless in the guest bathroom. Since then, sex with Joy happened almost on a weekly basis—sometimes a monthly basis if you two were really busy. No real feelings had manifested for Joy, and Joy certainly didn't seem interested to enter a relationship with you of all people. Hence, the two of you declared yourselves friends with benefits.

“Why are you still in the office?” You asked Joy, powering off your monitor. Soo-young sighed.

“Had to file my team’s paperwork again…” She lamented. “I really hate these slackers.”

“Same here,” You chuckled bitterly. “I just keep saving their asses over and over again while they go out drinking every other night… Ridiculous if you ask me.”

Joy laughed, clearly sharing a common sentiment. 

“Should’ve just shredded all the papers… Let those fucks rot for all I care,” Joy mused. 

“We’re on the last leg of the proposal submissions… Presentations are tomorrow,”  You reminded her. Joy nodded. 

“Yep… Which is exactly why I plan on calling in sick tomorrow,” She said. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Why?” 

Joy scoffed.��

“We’re the same. We both stay for long hours in the office saving our team’s asses, but we get zero recognition at the end of it all cause it’s a ‘group effort’,” Joy lamented. “I’ve been doing all the work. I want to see how they pitch the proposal without me tomorrow.”

You smirked. 

“You’re more cunning than I thought,” You mused. She winked. 

“I’ve got lots of ideas up here,” She said, tapping her head. “You know, maybe you should call in sick tomorrow too…”

You shook your head. 

“As much as I want to let my team burn to the ground, I don’t see myself doing that,” You told her honestly. Joy groaned.

“Oh my god! You and your morals!” She sighed. “Have a little fun! You certainly seem to be able to put aside your little moral compass when we fuck.”

“But that’s because… Because… Uh…” You struggled to argue. 

“Because what huh?” Joy pressed. “Because you like using my tight little body and ravishing my ass? Is that it?”

She wasn’t exactly wrong, but you didn’t want to let her win just like that. 

“And what if that is the reason? What are you gonna do, Joy?” You challenged her. Joy stared at you for a moment. Her brows furrowed, visibly deep in thought. 

“Alright then,” She finally said after some time. “If that really is the reason… I pitch you an offer.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Let’s hear it.”

Joy leaned against your desk.

“If you call in sick with me tomorrow, I’ll let you fuck me tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m guessing there’s a catch?” You prompted. She grinned. 

“But of course,” She replied. “If you fuck me tonight. You have to come to the beach with me tomorrow.” 

“That sounds like more of a win for me,” You told her bluntly. 

“It’s a win-win for the two of us,” She explained. “You get to fuck me and go to the beach—I get to screw over both our teams, get railed and go to the beach. Simple.”

You nodded your head thoughtfully, pretending to think it over. In truth, you had your answer ready for quite some time. 

“So?” Joy urged. 

“I accept your offer,” You answered. Joy grinned. 

“Perfect,” She said. “Now get your shit and let’s go. All this talk about sex has me aching for your cock.”

As she turned to leave, you grabbed her by the wrist. 

“Who said anything about leaving?” You asked. Joy raised an eyebrow.

“My my… Getting mischievous aren’t you?” She teased. 

“Well… Like you said: I can set aside my moral compass when it comes to fucking you.”

Joy smiled that lustful smile. 

“So are you just gonna keep talking? Or are you gonna kiss me?” 

In a flash, you were up on your feet, her tight frame in your arms and her lips on yours. Her hands touched your chest, your own hands on her ass.

“I know the pin to my boss’s office…” Joy whispered. “She has a couch in there.”

A sly grin made its way up your face. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” You asked. Joy giggled. She grabbed your hand, hurriedly pulling you towards the direction of her boss’s office.

Looks like your night was far from over.

You ran to that office with Joy like it was an emergency. Once there, Joy hurriedly punched in the numbers. A series of beeps, a green flash and Joy threw open the door, pulling you in with her.

“Any cameras in here?” You asked her. 

“Nope,” She replied confidently. “Funnily enough, the CEO turns off all the cameras at night to save money on electricity. That’s why we have so many security guards.”

“That sounds oddly convenient,” You mused.

You found a light switch and flipped it on. The room filled with warm light, revealing the spacious office that was at your disposal.

“Christ. Just shut up and undress me already,” Joy huffed. She moved to unbutton your shirt, and you did the same. The lacy fabric of her bra slowly became more and more visible with each button that came undone, heightening your excitement and making your cock twitch wildly in your pants.

Joy tugged at your pants.

“Get this off,” She whispered. You gladly undid your belt and unbuckled your trousers. They fell with a ‘thump’, pooling around your ankles and exposing the very apparent bulge in your underwear. Joy got her skirt off, making quick work of the article of clothing and tossing it to a side.

“Come here,” She said. She captured your lips, hands hooking the waistband of your underwear and pulling it down. You jolted a little when you felt the coolness of her palm against your shaft, but quickly adjusted, relishing the small sparks of pleasure when she stroked your length slowly. Your lips parted with hers, your eyes drinking in Joy’s curvaceous body.

“The usual?” She asked, toying with the tip of your cock.

“You pick,” You told her. There was a gleam in Joy’s eyes as she placed a finger on her lips, deep in thought. 

“I wanna ride you,” She decided. You grinned.

“Sure thing, but I want to eat you out first.”

Joy let go of your cock.

“Then fucking eat me.”

She guided you over to her boss’s desk. She propped herself up on it, spreading her luscious thighs apart and exposing a wet patch on her still-clothed pussy. It would only be a matter of time before her underwear would be discarded as well.

You didn’t need to be invited over. You were on your knees in a flash, hands pushing Joy’s spreading Joy’s legs a little further. Your index finger pressed against the damp spot on her panties, making her gasp when you started tracing the outline of her pussy with your fingertip.

“D-Don’t tease me like that…” She whispered. 

“I like to play with my food a little,” You smirked.  She whined, her voice full of need and desire.  She squirmed atop the desk, eyes squeezed shut and head tilted back. She made no further attempts to cease your teasing. 

When you eventually decided you had Joy riled up, you pulled the thin fabric of her panties off. Her pink folds glistened under the light. You licked your lips, mouth watering at the sight. 

You planted a kiss on her left thigh, then her right. Joy’s legs trembled in anticipation. 

“Look at me Joy,” You ordered. She bit down on her lower lip, eyes locking onto you. Maintaining eye-contact, you leaned forward and placed your mouth on her soaking pussy. 

You’d never forget her reaction when your tongue darted out, sweeping across her slick with the tip of your tongue. Her head whipped back, jet black hair sent flying behind her as she let a sharp sigh escape her lips. You quickly responded with another lick, your tongue tracing a path from the bottom of her slit to the top of her opening. Her juices accumulated on your tongue, her taste lingering in your mouth. 

Joy’s hand found your head. She gripped a fistfull of your hair, your name spilling out from her half-parted lips. Her thighs clamped around your head, the flesh drowning out the whir of the air conditioning — a warm, pillowy heaven. Her moans resonated through her body, her thighs vibrating slightly with each gasp or sigh. Your tongue attacked her folds, the flat side of your tongue brushing up Joy’s womanhood in slow, long strokes. The tip of your tongue flicked the swollen nub at the top of her pussy, playing with her clit to your heart's content as you made Joy writhe with pleasure.  Nails dug into the back of your skull. Her Thighs clamped down harder around your ears. Her juices leaked out of her cunt, pooling in your mouth as Joy pushed your head into her, forcing your tongue as deep as it could go. 

Her thighs shifted down slightly, gripping your cheeks in their grasps instead. 

“Fuck… Keep going… Keep eating me…” She pleaded, face twisting in pleasure. There was really no need for that request. You never intended on stopping till she came. 

It didn’t take long for you to get close to accomplishing your mission. When her thighs tensed around you, you increased the intensity of your assault. Joy’s breaths became shallower, the intervals between her moans decreasing with each one that left her mouth.

“Oh god… I’m cumming… I’m fucking—”

She never finished her sentence. Her throat strained visibly, her vocal chords tensing as the pleasure struck her like a bolt of thunder. In a sweaty, beautiful disarray, Joy orgasmed. Her lips formed a round “o”, her nails threatening to puncture your scalp. You lapped up the juices that gushed out from her entrance, drinking in as much of her as you could. You fell some of her sweet fluids dribbling down your chin, but you’d handle that later. 

You held her body down by her thighs as she shook and quivered on the table. Eventually she settled down enough. She brought her left hand—which had been digging into your scalp—-down to your cheek. She lifted up your head softly. 

“Couch… Let me fuck myself on your cock.”

You smiled. 

“With pleasure Joy.”

You stood up. Grasping her hand, you helped her off the table and onto the couch. Your cock throbbed violently in her hand as she gripped it firmly, guiding the tip of your shaft to her entrance.  Without a word of warning, she dropped down, sheathing you inside of her tight little cunt. Your eyes bulged, a strained sigh leaving your throat. Your hands found her full ass, gripping it tightly. 

“Fuck… I always forget how big you are…” She breathed, slowly grinding against you to adjust to your size. 

“But you never forget how much you love bouncing on my cock, do you Joy?” You asked. 

“Of course…” She replied, eyes glazed with pleasure. “I will never forget how good it feels to be filled with your cock.”

Her hips stopped moving. She shifted on top of you, her hands resting on your shoulders. She kissed you tenderly, tasting herself on your lips. 

“I’m gonna fuck myself so hard on this big cock,” She whispered. 

“Go ahead Joy,” You said. “Show me how you ride this cock.”

When she began bouncing on you, the sensation of her walls gripping and sliding up and down your shaft almost made you black out. You grounded yourself in reality with the aid of the tender flesh of Joy’s butt, your teeth clenching as she impaled herself on you relentlessly. Her pussy pulsed around your shaft, each beat matching her pace. 

“So… Fucking… Big…” She gasped. “I’m… Addicted… To your big cock.”

Her voice was raspy, filled with desire. She wanted this. She needed this.

You smirk, eyes glued to her breasts that were bouncing with each impact she made against you. She caught you looking, taking the hint and leaning forward to give you better access to her assets.

“Thank you,” You smirked through the overwhelming pleasure. You dived in, licking up the sweat between her breasts before shifting slightly to take one of her tits into your mouth. Joy’s walls seemed to clench down tighter around you, responding to the attention you gave her breasts. She moaned louder, riding you faster as your tongue swirled around her taut nipple. 

“Fuck yes, suck my tits. Suck my fucking tits!” She screamed. Her cheeks were flushed, her body glistening with sweat as she rode you fiercely. She wasn’t letting up on her pace, fucking herself harshly on your cock just as she promised. She seemed to be sucking you deeper and deeper between her folds. Each bottom of her strokes squeezed you deliciously, partially forcing you out of her pussy when she rose. The motion repeated, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You could feel the cushion of the couch compressing under your combined weight, Joy’s frantic bounces onto you making it feel like you were on a trampoline. She moaned right into your ear, making your hair stand as her scent filled your nose. Joy overwhelmed your senses. You were going insane. 

She continued riding you, thighs clamped around your waist and her arms wrapped around your neck. You released her tit from your mouth, mounds of flesh glistening in a mixture of sweat and saliva. Joy’s eyes, half-lidded in pleasure, stared into yours. The intimacy was sublime. 

As much as you would have enjoyed letting Joy bounce on your cock forever, you had your limits.

“Joy…” You grunted. She understood. 

She stopped riding you, quickly dismounting you and sitting down next to you. Her hand gripped your shaft, slick with her juices, jerking you off frantically. 

“Quick, choose a place to cum,” She urged you. 

It takes effort. But through your gritted teeth, you manage a reply. 

“Y-Your face. Let me cover your face.”

Joy was on her knees in an instant. Her hand never left your shaft, pumping away with gusto as she closed her eyes. Her free hand fondled your balls, gently massaging your cum up your shaft as your toes curled into the carpet. With a grunt, you let loose.

Rope after rope of your hot seed shoots out of your cock. Joy’s face is covered almost instantly, your load painting her features white in your semen. She squeezed your cock, forcing every last drop of cum out of you. Your body went rigid in overwhelming bliss, your senses numbed by the force of your tidal wave of an orgasm. 

Joy waited patiently for the last drop of your cum to ooze out of your twitching shaft. Her tongue emerged from her cum stained lips, licking up your seed that was around her mouth before cleaning you up thoroughly. You mustered the strength to rest a hand on her head, gently stroking her sweat-matted hair as she worked on your cock, helping you to gently ease down from your high.

“That… Was better than I imagined,” You mused. 

“Ever since when has sex with me been a disappointment?” Joy grinned, gathering bits of your load off her face with her fingers. 

“That’s true…” You mused. Joy giggled, slapping your cock against her face. 

Joy waited for you to regain some strength, content with sucking your cock in the meantime. 

When you could finally stand, you assisted Joy in cleaning up the mess you made on her face. When all was said and done, you and Joy made sure that there were no odd stains left anywhere in her boss’s office. Once you were both sure that your deed would not be discovered, you hastily put your clothes back on. You turned off the lights and slipped out of the office. 

“That was fun,” Joy giggled, hugging your arm. “Now… I expect you to hold up your end of our deal.”

You chuckled.

“It would be rude of me not to after what we did,” You mused. Joy smiled. 

“Good… Then it looks like we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow.”

~~~~~~

The sun shined intensely on your face. Joy’s car cruised down the road, the wind catching her flowy black hair and making her sundress flap a little in the wind. 

“Quit staring at my tits will you?” She remarked. 

“You can’t blame me,” You defended yourself. She rolled her eyes.

“Right. I just look too good in this don’t I?” 

You chuckled, your eyes turning back to the road. The sand and the blue waters were visible now, you were close. 

“Take the exit just up ahead,” You instructed her. 

“I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to backseat drive,” She scoffed. 

“All right… You’re the boss…”

Joy smirked, pushing up her sunglasses a little. When the exit came, you were amused when Joy’s car sped right past it. 

“I thought you said you knew what you were doing?” You questioned.

“I do,” She answered confidently. 

“Then why the fuck did you miss the exit?”

“Cause we’re going somewhere else.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“I thought you said we were going to the beach?” 

Joy smiled innocently. 

“We are, just a different part,” She answered. You gave her a look.

“What?” She asked. “Why are you giving me that side eye?”

You folded your arms. 

“Why are you suddenly changing our destination?” You interrogated. Joy’s lips formed a thin line.

“Relax. I’m not kidnapping you or anything,” She reasoned with you. “Just calm your ass down. We’re almost there.”

You were a little sceptical, but you knew better than to doubt Soo-young. But you still had the urge to have a final say.

“Always breaking agreements,” You muttered. 

“I heard that,” She told you.

“You were supposed to,” You replied. Joy clicked her tongue in annoyance, but you recognised that familiar cheeky glint in those eyes. She was having fun, so were you.

Joy drove for another 10 minutes or so. A roof of a structure slowly emerged, a stand alone seaside chalet revealing itself. 

“We’ll get the beach to ourselves here,” Joy grinned. You chuckled.

“You’re full of surprises,” You remarked.

“And you’re full of shit,” She shot back. 

Joy’s car pulled up to the gate of the chalet. She rustled through her tote bag for a bit before retrieving a remote. With a click of a button, the gate rolled open. Joy drove in, parking the car just outside the entrance to the small house.

“We came here on a team retreat a year ago, I figured out how to book it,” She told you.

“I didn’t ask,” You said.

“But you’re bound to ask at some point,” She fired back. 

She wasn’t wrong. 

You helped Joy to unload the things in her trunk, amused to find that she had brought beverages and meat to grill. You quickly deduced that this would be an overnight stay, realising why she asked you to pack an extra set of clothes. 

You entered the chalet with Joy. While Joy put your things in the room, you busied yourself with storing the meat and drinks in the fridge. It was quick work for the both of you. 

“Look around for a bit, I need to change,” Joy told you.

“Can I watch?” You asked. She slapped your arm.

“Fucking pervert.” 

You chuckled. Joy giggled a little before retreating back to the room and shutting the door behind her. You did as suggested, exploring the place a little while you waited for Joy to emerge out of the room. It was a cosy little spot, complete with an outdoor dining area that offered a breathtaking view of the sea. The view was great, but something told you that the view of Joy’s naked body would’ve been better. 

“All right. Let’s head to the water.”

You turned. Your mouth dried up. 

Joy sauntered towards you, towel in hand. Her wide hips swaying in those skimpy shorts that cut off perfectly around the fullness of those thighs, perky breasts bulging out behind that tight neon-yellow top on her body, bending the words “Life Is Sweet” around her ample tits. Her hair was tied up into a high ponytail, a cap sitting on her head to block out the harsh sun.

“What?” She prompted, giving you a look. 

“N-Nothing,” You quickly replied, shaking off the dirty thoughts in your head. “Let’s go…”

You slid the door open and walked out into the deck. You could hear Joy’s pattering footsteps behind you, and you had to resist the urge to look back and get another good look at her. You’d seen her in all sorts of clothing. Suits, dresses, mini skirts, you’d seen it all. Hell you’d even seen her naked countless times. 

But this? This felt so different for some odd reason. 

Your feet hit the sand, the grains crushing under your feet as you moved towards the water. 

“Wait,” Joy called out from behind. You turned—a little too enthusiastically—and saw her holding out a bottle.

“Put on some sunscreen,” She told you, walking up to you and uncapping the bottle. You held out a palm, and Joy pumped a generous dollop into your hand. You thanked her with a smile before applying the lotion onto your body. Joy busied herself with her own body, the Sunscreen making her skin gleam slightly before she rubbed the lotion into her skin completely. 

“Could you help me with my back?” She requested, turning her back to you. You quickly took a moment to soak in the shape of her ass in those shorts before walking over and taking the sunscreen from her. You pushed down, pumping some of the lotion onto your hand before applying it on Joy’s back. Your hands cheekily slipped under the bits of her top that clung to her back, earning a playful gaze from the woman. You took your time to rub the lotion into her smooth skin, savouring the curves of her body from behind. 

When you decided that you were satisfied, you stepped away. 

“All done,” You smiled innocently.

“You sure took your time. Had a good look?” She teased, catching you red handed. You smirked. 

“Definitely,” You replied. She smiled and pinched your cheek.

“What a cheeky boy…” 

Joy laid down a mat under the shade of a tree, far enough from the tide but close enough for you to quickly access the water. You walked towards the azure blue sea with Joy, wet sand squishing under your feet as you went deeper and deeper. The two of you didn’t go in too deep, stopping when the water hit your knees. A wind had picked up, and Joy stretched out her arms.

“Ah… This is nice…” She sighed. 

“Mhm,” You hummed in agreement. A smile made its way onto the girl’s face. 

“I wonder how our teams are fairing…” She giggled. 

“Not too well probably,” You answered truthfully. 

“Ah well… We all get what we deserve…” She sighed. “And we deserve this nice bit of relaxation…”

You nodded, silently agreeing with her. There was a moment of silence between you two as you both stood there, letting the water sweep around your knees. The sea water left a pleasant tingle on your skin, giving you some sort of a respite to the heat of the summer. 

Joy moved closer to you.  

“You know what’s nice about this?” She whispered. 

“What?” You asked. She stretched out her arm towards the shore.

“We have this segment of the beach to ourselves.” 

She moved in a little more, your bare arms touching each other. You caught her gaze. She smiled. 

“Say…” She began, gingerly reaching for your hand. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“What is it?” You asked. Joy didn’t reply, opting to silently guide your hand onto her toned tummy. Your knuckles slipped past the waistband of her shorts, your fingers coming into contact with something warm and wet. Experience allowed you to deduce what exactly was against your fingertips.

“Ever thought about fucking on the beach?”Joy grinned. 

“Nope… But I’m down to try,” You replied.

As quickly as you had entered the water with her, you found yourselves back up on shore, tongues in mouths and hands on each other. Joy’s mat served as a barrier between you and the sand, providing a perfect place for you to lay Soo-young down and slip your digits into her slick folds. A moan escaped her lips, her front teeth becoming visible as she bit down on her fingernail. You pumped your hand, working your fingers deeper into her slick cunt, your lips peppering her neck with kisses and light nibbles. A stream of moans and whines flowed from Joy’s mouth.

“Oh yes… Right there baby… R-Right fucking there,” She hissed, hips jerking  when your fingers curled up and made contact with the soft flesh on the roof of her walls. 

“You’re so wet Joy,” You muttered. 

“I’m always wet for you…” She replied. 

You smiled. 

“You're always such a little slut for me, aren’t you?” You whispered into her ear. She nodded. 

“O-Oh… Y-Yes… I’m your little slut…” 

Your fingers worked faster, pumping harder and deeper into her warmth. She gasped sharply, her back arching deliciously. You bent her to your will, a dark part of you finding pleasure in making her yours.

“Oh shit… Don’t stop… Please don’t stop,” She whined, her left hand kneading her left breast while her right clung to your shirt sleeve for dear life. She let her sighs and gasps tumble out of her mouth, not bothering to control her volume as her hips start grinding against your hand. Her eyes filled with need, her tight body quivering and thrashing against your hand as she moaned your name into your ear. With each entrance of your fingers, a delightfully erotic squelch filled your ears, mixing with Joy’s filthy exclamations of pleasure. Your lips found Joy’s, muffling her cries with your mouth. Her thighs clamped down tightly around your hand, keeping you deep inside of her while you drove her wild. 

Your left hand found one of her taut nipples, and you gave the nub a pinch. Joy moaned into your mouth, her right hand shifting up and gripping your forearm. You released her lips, allowing you to hear those cute mewls and gasps clearly. Her moaning increased in volume, her eyes widening. 

“Fuck… I-I’m gonna cum,” She said, nails digging into your arm. “Keep fucking me with your fingers! I’m fucking… Oh!” 

Joy came, tight frame shaking violently. Her mouth opened  in a silent scream, pupils dilating further as her thighs quivered around your hand. Her back arched further, her breasts proudly protruding on her quivering chest. Your hand slowed, gradually halting to give Joy a breather through her high.  Her body crashes down on the mat mere minutes later, heaving with each breath Joy took as the bliss faded. Sweat beaded on her brow, her skin glistening deliciously under the light. 

Her weak left hand tilted your chin towards her. She finds your lips once more, holding you in a sweet kiss for a little before releasing you. 

“Fuck me however you want… Just promise that you’ll cum in me this time.”

You smiled. 

“Of course Joy…” You affirmed her. “Let’s get you undressed.”

Her soaking wet shorts were off in a flash, her skin-tight top following closely behind. Joy undid the strings of your shorts, pulling them down to let your hard cock spring out. Her hand gripped your shaft, slender fingers squeezing your member gently as she stroked you lazily. 

“The usual?” She asked. You nodded, feeling a little bit of Deja vu. Joy’s hand left your cock, planting itself behind her. She flipped herself belly down, her big juicy ass raised and presented for you. You pulled your shorts down past your knees before positioning yourself behind Joy. She looked back at you, that devilish smile on her face as you slapped your cock against her ass.  

“Put it in…” She whispered. 

“Patience, Joy… You’re always in such a hurry,” You  told her, taking your time to line yourself up with her slit. While you were aching to enter her, a dark part in you took pleasure in making the girl beg. 

“Please… Please just put in already…” She implored, a wanton expression wiping the smile off her face. You finally relented. 

You pushed your tip in, parting her flushed, pink lips as the rest of your cock slid into Joy’s cunt with ease. You groaned, hands gripping the full cheeks of her ass as you hilted yourself in her tight walls. It was pure bliss.

“God… You’re always so fucking tight Joy,” You hissed, spanking her with an open palm. She yelped in delight, ass rippling under the impact. 

“Fuck me…” She gasped. She was so full of need and lust. 

You did as she requested. Your hips popped back, your shaft redrawing from her slick momentarily before spearheading right back into the depths of her cunt. You gave her no time to adjust, quickly establishing a rough, frantic, carnal pace and taking her pussy. Joy was gasping, crying, screaming in delight, her ass rippling hypnotically with each deep stroke you made. Her little body rocked, the warmth of her ass cushioning your crotch with each entrance. Her hands dug into the sand, fingers buried deep in the grains to hold her steady as you pounded her tight little pussy mercilessly. Her walls sucked you in, pulling you deeper and deeper into her till you could feel the warmth of her core on the tip of your cock. Jolts of pleasure shot up your spine and through your nervous system. 

Joy lowered her upper body to the ground, deepening the angle of your frantic thrusts into her. You reached down, hands quickly locating her swaying breasts and cupping them. You played with her soft ample mounds, relishing Joy’s curves in your palms. 

“Oh fuck Joy… You take my cock so well,” You grunted. 

“My body… Was made to take your cock,” She hissed back. “This pussy is yours. Take my slutty little pussy like it’s yours.”

She made eye contact with you for the nth time. The look in her eyes made something snap inside of you. 

Your palm left her tits, pushing down on the small of Joy’s back. Her face dug into the mat, her thighs spreading even further to take you deeper into her folds. She screams your name, begging you for more. 

You doubled down on Joy, your slick shaft emerging and disappearing between her slick pussy lips.  Her hand reached between your bodies, rubbing frantically at her clit. 

“Oh fuck fuck fuck! Fuck me fuck me fuck me!” She cried, sounding breathless. She was enjoying every last second of her treatment. The waves crashed against the shore, doing little to mask the screams of pleasure escaping from Joy’s lips.

You fucked Joy into the sand, taking control of her body as you bent over her to keep her pinned between you and the mat. 

“How does it feel Joy?” You growled into her ear. “How does it feel being fucked like a dirty little slut?”

Joy struggled to answer.

“It feels… So… Fucking good…”

The pure filth coming from her mouth spurred you, making you fuck her faster, harder… You wanted to fuck her senseless like you always did. Joy loved taking your cock till her mind went blank. Be it in the office, in between her own sheets or even in a car, she relished the feel of your cock stretching her out and fucking her till her brain rattled in her skull. There was no such thing as “Slow” when you were with Joy. 

Your hand gripped her ponytail, yanking back hard till her head was looking straight ahead. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum Joy,” You hissed. “I’m gonna fucking cum inside your tight little cunt.”

“Yes yes yes… Do it! Fill me! I need it so fucking bad!” She grunted. Your hand leaves her hair, both hands gripping her wide hips roughly as you give Joy all you had.

Your orgasm almost made you black out. You buried yourself as deep as you could inside Joy’s body, struggling to keep your upper body upright. Your cock spasmed and pulsated, your body quivering and shaking — absolutely overwhelmed by pleasure. Joy’s sighs drowned out the noises around you, a dull ring in your ears as you pumped your load into her awaiting cunt. It takes an eternity for you to recover. When you do, Joy was quick to request for more. 

“I want it in my ass next…” She told you. Through your sweat-matted hair, you managed a grin. 

“Coming right up.”

You wouldn’t be going back into the water for quite some time.

~~~~

A cool evening breeze ruffled your hair, rustling the leaves of trees behind you as you sat on the deck with Joy. Her head rested on your shoulder, mouth busy chewing on the piece of meat in her mouth. There was a pleasant silence between the two of you, both of you silently listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. 

“Feed me another piece,” Joy requested. You gladly obliged, poking a slice of grilled meat with your fork and bringing it to her mouth. She bit it off your fork, chewing happily. 

“You know… I think we should do this more often,” She told you between bites. 

“There’s a limit on the number of times we can call in sick Joy,” You reminded her.

“Ah who fucking cares,” She said. “We can probably find other loopholes in the system.”

You chuckled. 

“I guess so,” You mused. She tapped your hand. You fed her another piece of meat.

A deep sigh left her mouth. You risked a glance down, noting the look of content on her face as she stared out into the sea. The sun was setting just past the horizon, an orangish-golden glow illuminating the surface of the water. The sunlight blended with the deep blue water of the sea, the sun reflected on the surface of the water. It was… Oddly romantic.

“Thanks for coming out with me today,” Joy said. “I really appreciate it.” 

You smiled. 

“No problem Soo-young,” You replied. “I needed this break either way.”

Joy giggled. 

“I know. So did I.”

“So was I always meant to be invited?” You questioned. 

“Hm… Maybe.”

You feigned offence. Joy laughed and smacked your arm playfully.

“Well… Intended or not, I’m glad you asked me to come,” You told her sincerely. Her expression softened. 

“That’s great… Would’ve been a waste if you didn’t,” She replied. 

Your eyes met hers. For once, past the cheekiness, past the lust and past the mischief, you saw a faint glimmer of… something behind her gaze. Something stirred in you.

You looked back out towards the sea, feeling an odd sensation on your chest. You didn’t know what it was, but it made you hold Joy a little closer.

Maybe… Just maybe… You felt like the two of you were more than just friends with benefits.

-------------------

Hello. Hope you enjoyed this one. I had a little bit of a Joy overdose so...

Anyways, thanks for stopping by and reading! Have a great day!

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 3: Caravan

Ryujin & Karina

Tags: Smut, FemxFem, Threesome, Dom Ryujin, Sub Karina, Teasing, Face-fuck, rough-sex, creampie

Your hand stung at Ryujin’s touch. A hiss left your mouth as she doused your wound with disinfectant, a string of cusses following suit as she dabbed it dry.

“Damn it Squeaker… Why do you still practise when your hand’s already fucked?” Ryujin huffed in frustration. 

“S-Sorry…” You apologised meekly. You winced as Ryujin tightened the bandage around your hand. 

Your friend sighed heavily, taping the bandage on your hand in place. 

“Don’t push yourself too hard… I know you want to perfect your part, but practising this way won’t help,” She cautioned you, shutting the first aid kit. You examined your bandaged hand, wiggling your fingers to check your range of motion. 

“Did I wrap it too tight?” Ryujin checked. You shook your head.

“I-It’s fine… Thanks,” You smiled. The short hair girl patted you on the shoulder. 

“You ought to rest up… You’ve really been going at it these few days.”

You chuckled sheepishly. 

“Well… I guess I just want Yeji to stop yelling at me…” 

“A true people pleaser aren’t ya?” She mused. 

You managed a small laugh.

“You could call it that.”

Ryujin put the first aid kit back in the corner of the recording room. She walked back and sat back down next to you on the couch. 

“How bad does it hurt?” She asked. 

“Not too bad… Just stings a little, but I can play,” You informed her. 

“Let’s focus on healing before playing, shall we?” 

“B-But… What about prac—”

Ryujin wrapped a hand around your shoulder and pulled you towards her. Your head landed on her chest. She ruffled your hair. 

“You need rest, not practise!” She chided you. You used your un-injured hand to free yourself from her grip.

“Alright, alright! I-I won’t practise!” You affirmed her dodging her second grab. 

Ryujin smirked.

“Good boy,” She praised, patting your head. “I will kill you if I ever see you anywhere near that kit, capiche?”

You chuckled and nodded. Ryujin seemed to be satisfied, and she got up on her feet. 

“It’s getting late, we should get out of here!” She declared. “I’m grabbing dinner with Karina. Join me.”

After a shitty day like today, grabbing a meal with Shin Ryujin didn’t sound like a bad idea… She wasn’ exactly requesting either way. You packed your sticks back into your bag and headed out with your bassist. 

It had been a few weeks since your gig at the bar. Ever since the events that happened backstage, Eunbi had made it a point to expand the band’s repertoire in terms of musicality. She unveiled her new idea to you over breakfast the morning after your session with her. The following day, new, purely instrumental songs had been added to the song list. There were more things to perfect now. Amongst the songs that had been brought in, there were quite a few jazz tunes in there. All of them required quick hands and feet, as well as a saxophone and trumpet player…

While Eunbi scoured the campus to find a capable trumpeter and a saxophonist, you dedicated the time you had to perfect your part. Unfortunately for you, after a poor trial run on one of the songs, Yeji had taken the liberty to “supervise” you.

 From the moment she stepped foot into the studio on your first one-on-one session with her, you had a gut feeling that she would make your life a living hell. And you were unfortunately right.

Your perception of Yeji changed. She was no longer scary to you. Instead, she was incredibly fucking scary. She’d cuss you out over the littlest things, critique your playing when you were a split second late to enter, hurl insults at you when the tempo became too fast for you, and the list goes on…

Strangely enough, her snarky, hot-headed attitude towards you seemed to motivate you to get better. You were determined to obtain the scary girl’s approval, hence you practised daily, even when Yeji didn’t expect you to come in. You never skipped a day, drumming till your hands, arms, legs and feet were sore. 

In the first week, you blistered your right hand, earning you a small tongue lashing from Eunbi when she saw you playing with a minor injury. In the second week, two more blisters occupied your hand, but you hid it well enough from your band members. 

That day, you tore a chunk of skin off the bottom of your palm. Ryujin happened to walk to check on you, only to see you cradling your sore hand and hurling profanities at the top of your lungs. She rushed over to assist you immediately, making you appreciate her even more.

It had been a painful few weeks for you to say the least… You felt like you earned that dinner treat. 

You headed down the stairs with Ryujin and beelined it for the campus gate. You found Jimin sitting on one of the benches, idly looking at her phone as you approached.

“Sup baby girl?” Ryujin called to her. Karina’s head snapped up.

“There you are!” The girl exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “I’ve been waiting for your bitch-ass… Oh hi, Myeong-seok.”

You waved. The pianist caught sight of your bandaged hand. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Jimin gasped. You quickly hid your hand behind your back.

“O-Oh… Just a small injury,” You lied. Ryujin slapped your arm.

“Stop the cap,” She scoffed. “He fucked up his hand drumming too fast.” 

You shot her a look. She raised her eyebrows.

“What? Are you seriously planning to hide an injury like that?” She grilled you. You wanted to argue, but you couldn’t exactly justify your actions. 

“Oh gosh… Are you okay?” Karina asked, voice laced with concern. You nodded.

“I’ll be fine… Just gotta be careful…”

Karina sighed. 

“This is because of Yeji, isn’t it? We gotta talk to her and get her to tone it down. She’s being too harsh!”

You silently agreed with Karina, but you also understood Yeji’s motive for being such an ass to you. She struck you as a girl that strived for perfection in everything she did. 99.99% was never enough for her. She always wanted 101% out of herself, expecting it from everyone else she worked with as well. Your high school’s band conductor was just like her, so you knew that she had good intentions. 

“We’ll tackle that problem when we can,” Ryujin told Jimin. “For now, let’s go eat. I’m starving!”

Karina looked like she wanted to continue discussing the matter, but she must have decided against it. 

“Alright… Is Myeong-seok eating with us?” Jimin inquired. 

“Y-Yep,” You confirmed. Karina nodded.

“Right then. Let’s go.”

The three of you took a bus into the city. Jimin brought you all to a fried chicken restaurant that served one hell of a bucket of spicy chicken. Ryujin being Ryujin, ordered a glass of beer for everyone, but you kindly declined. 

“Why don’t you want to drink?” Ryujin interrogated you after the waiter had left. 

“I… I just don’t feel like it,” You said. Truthfully, you were just afraid that you might accidentally end up in bed with Ryujin again if you had a little bit too much to drink. Prevention is better than cure. 

“Tsk. Wimp,” Ryujin teased you. 

“Let him be Ryujin,” Karina chided. 

“Fine… But only cause you said it darling…” The short-haired girl winked. Karina rolled her eyes and looked away.

 Ryujin laughed.

“Damn girl… Why are you so hard to flirt with?” Ryujin asked innocently.

“Cause I don’t feel like flirting with you,” Karina retorted. 

“Ah… So you’re just playing hard to get!” Ryujin chuckled. “I like a tough catch…”

Karina shot her friend a dirty look. 

“W-What? N-No! I-I’m… Ugh! Forget it!”

Jimin looked away, doing her best to look upset but the blush on her pale face really wasn’t helping.

Yoo Jimin and Shin Ryujin shared a friendship dynamic that confounded you more than any other chart had. Ryujin was oddly flirty with the other girl, and Karina didn’t seem to enjoy it—but never asked Ryujin to stop. It was truly an odd bond to try and wrap your head around, but you figured that you’d understand them better after spending more time with them.

The buckets of chicken and the infamous hot wings came after a short wait. You understood why Jimin wanted you to try the fiery fried chicken. It was packed full of flavour, but you quickly regretted the first bite a few seconds after you took it. Thankfully, the restaurant gave out free shots of milk to customers who couldn’t take the heat, and you gratefully threw back a few shots of milk, quelling the fire in your mouth. 

You opted to stick to the classic fried chicken. Ryujin and Jimin on the other hand, busied themselves with the spicy delight. Watching with hidden amusement, you witnessed the two girls experience an entire emotional roller-coaster as they consumed those pieces of chicken. You didn’t understand why they were torturing themselves like that. However, you didn’t really mind watching the two fan their burning mouths as you silently munched on your own chicken. It was quite entertaining after all…

After the two girls had recovered from the spice—with the assistance of milk and beer of course—the three of you finished up and sat in the restaurant, talking over drinks. Karina seemed to be friends with the Ahjumma that ran the place, judging by how she would refill her and Ryujin’s glasses with more beer whenever she noticed that they were empty. You were content with sipping on your banana milk—graciously given to you by the Ahjumma as well—as you made conversation with the girls. Your time with the band had let you become tense when around your members, so you found it easier to talk to the two about life and other things that interested you.

As the night dragged on, the girls downed more and more glasses of beer. You wanted to caution them against getting drunk, but you knew that Ryujin would just call you a wuss and throw back another glass. You could only watch helplessly as they drank, laughed, talked—then drank even more. You had a bad feeling about all of this. 

One of your main concerns would be how they would get home safely. As much as you wanted to trust Korea's street security, you knew deep down that some men would get a little eager if they saw two drunk girls stumbling down the pavement. The thought of what could happen sent shivers down your spine.

And so you ended up having to guide the two girls back to Karina’s place. You thanked god they didn’t get drunk, but they were a little woozy for sure. They held each other's arms, giggling excessively while chattering rather noisily. You walked behind the two girls, feeling a little second-hand embarrassed each time a member of the public shot a glare towards them. 

The two eventually managed to stumble back to Karina’s apartment. You helped Jimin to unlock her door—she wasn’t exactly in the best state to do so herself—and opened the door for the two girls. You waited for them to stumble in. 

Just as you were about to shut the door and leave, a hand grabbed your shirt.

“Get your ass in here Squeaky…”

You were yanked into Jimin’s apartment against your will. As much as you wanted to leave, Ryujin’s grip on your arm made it impossible for you to go anywhere. You could only sigh and shut the apartment door behind you. The two stumbled into the centre of Jimin’s living room, laughing over something. 

“Let’s have more booze!” Ryujin suggested. You didn’t hesitate to butt in.

“I-I don’t think you should…” You advised. Ryujin raised an eyebrow.

“Why? Scared you’ll get drunk and fuck my brains out again Squeaker?” 

Karina gasped. 

“Ryujin! You had sex with Myeong-seok?!” She inquired. Ryujin smiled and put an arm over Karina’s shoulder. 

“I did… And it was fucking amazing~” 

“R-Ryujin!” You chided her. You could remember very clearly that Ryujin was the one that made you swear not to tell anyone about your fiasco. 

“What? Am I wrong?” Ryujin giggled. “Come on Myeong-seok… You remember how much I milked you!”

A blush made its way onto your face. You looked away to hide it, but Ryujin caught on quickly.

“Awww… Look at him, Karina! He’s blushing!” She teased you. Karina’s reply was to cross her arms. She turned away from Ryujin, letting out an audible huff. Ryujin seemed amused. 

“Hey… Are you upset about something?” The short-haired girl questioned. Karina looked back at Ryujin for a moment before turning away again. 

“You fucked him… Without me…”

Ryujin raised her eyebrows. 

“Oh… So you’re jealous?” Ryujin concluded. Karina didn’t even bother to hide the blush.

“I… I’m…” Karina stammered. She struggled to formulate her sentence for a bit before letting out a flustered sigh.

“Fine… M-Maybe I am a little jealous… But only j-just a little…” 

You weren’t too sure if what you heard was correct. It felt a little bit like a conversation that two characters would have in your fever dream.

Ryujin smirked and wrapped her arms around Karina’s waist. 

“Look at you… So red and flustered over me~” Ryujin giggled. Karina didn’t seem to be fighting back against her friends like she usually would. 

“I-I’m not flustered…” Karina insisted. Ryujin chuckled. 

“Yes, you are darling… Don’t deny it…” 

Karina opened her mouth to say something. Ryujin seemed to have other ideas. 

In a flash, Ryujin had her left palm resting on Karina’s jaw. Her index and ring fingers had slid into Karina’s open mouth, playing with the other girl's lips. 

“You want me… You want me again don’t you Jimin?”  Ryujin whispered. Karina’s lips closed around Ryujin’s fingers, a soft sigh escaping her lips as Ryujin pulled Jimin back. The roundness of Karina’s ass flushed against Ryujin’s full hips. Ryujin, emboldened by Karina’s lack of resistance, let her hand snake down the other girl's body. Her palm found Karina’s right ass cheek and squeezed it. 

Karina gasped, mouth opening wider as the sound left her throat. Ryujin dug her fingers deep into Jimin, her digits wiggling around inside the pianist’s mouth. 

“Tell me that you want me Jimin…” Ryujin demanded airily, her right hand beginning to drift upwards to the bust on Jimin’s chest. “Tell me that you want me to take your hot body right here, right now and have you screaming so loud that your neighbours can hear you…”

Ryujin squeezed Karina’s right breast through her shirt. Jimin moaned a lot louder this time, her voice muffled by Ryujin’s fingers.

“R-Ryujin…” She called her friend. 

“Tell me…” Ryujin hissed. 

Karina closed her eyes, breath getting shallower by the minute. Ryujin bent down slightly, licking and kissing Jimin’s neck. Her fingers stayed in Jimin’s mouth, moving ever so gently between the small whines from Jimin.

Karina finally folded. 

“I want you… I want you so bad Ryujin…” The pianist breathed. Ryujin was satisfied with the answer, slipping her slick fingers out of her companion’s mouth. Her right hand left Jimin’s full chest and Ryujin took a step back. Something flashed behind those eyes. 

“Strip,” Ryujin commanded.

Karina reacted almost instantly, hands finding the hem of her shirt and pulling the fabric up and over her head. She undid her jeans hastily, pulling them down to her ankles and kicking them away.

Ryujin licked her lips, slowly circling the scantily clad Karina. You could see her eyes wandering joyously, soaking in the sight of Jimin’s tight yet perfectly curvy body. 

“Come here Squeaker,” She urged you. You blinked, snapping out of your trance. 

“W-What?” You sputtered. Ryujin rolled her eyes. 

“Just get your ass over here man.”

You were hesitant but slowly walked towards the bassist. When you were near enough, she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to her. 

“Have a good look Squeaky… Tell me what you like about her…” Ryujin whispered into your ear. You gulped. 

“Ryujin I—”

She shushed you, a gentle finger on your lips. 

“Take in that body… Then tell me what you like the most about her…”

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander around Karina. You had seen her in baggy clothing most of the time, hiding her large chest behind loose fitting sweaters and hoodies. She would wear tight jeans every now and then, accentuating her ass and the fullness of her thighs. 

But this… This was something else altogether… 

Karina’s pale, milky skin glimmered slightly in her apartment light. Those round breasts were squeezed together in the lacy bra she wore, providing you with ample cleavage to stare at. She wasn’t as endowed as Eunbi was, but she had quite the pair in your books. Her tight tummy glowed warmly under the lighting, revealing her toned abs and cute belly button. 

“So… What do you like?” Ryujin asked once more. You felt yourself clam up, but you managed a reply.

“H-Her face… I-I guess…”

Ryujin chuckled. 

“All that ogling and you said ‘her face’...” She said, “Very well then…” 

She let her arm slide off you, turning her attention to Jimin. 

“On your knees.”

Jimin dropped instantly, her knees hitting the floor with a thud. You winced a little, feeling the second-hand pain from the impact. 

“Mouth open.”

Karina’s jaw dropped, revealing that perfect set of pearly white teeth and pink tongue. Ryujin reached down to the buckle of your belt. 

“Come on Squeaker… Get your cock out,” She smiled, undoing the clasp of your belt.

“W-Wait… W-What?” You stammered, grabbing a hold of her wrist. Ryujin cocked her head and stared. 

“What? Afraid to get your dick sucked by this pretty slut?” Ryujin grilled. 

“I-I… This… This isn’t right…” You reasoned. Ryujin giggled. 

She leaned in towards you, face millimetres away from yours.

“Let me tell you something Squeaker… When it comes to using Karina… There is no right and wrong.”

Her lips crashed against yours, capturing you and a soft kiss. Her body felt oddly familiar against yours. She dug her tongue into your mouth, licking and rodding around as she rubbed your cock through your jeans. 

“So… What do you say Squeaky?” Ryujin asked, lips parting from yours. “You have a good girl on her knees. It’s not right to keep her waiting…”

She locked eyes with you. All sense of morality seemed to leave you as you gave Ryujin a nod.

She assisted you in sliding out of your jeans and boxers, your already hardened cock springing out. Ryujin tossed your pants and undergarments aside. 

“Go on… Fuck that pretty face…” Ryujin urged, gently pushing you forward. “Make sure you leave her in a mess…”

You stepped towards Karina, cock twitching wildly. Karina stared into your eyes, holding your gaze lustfully. Ryujin gently gripped the base of your cock, giving you an experimental pump before she placed your head on the tip of Jimin’s tongue. The warm sensation sent a jolt up your body, making you grunt. Ryujin wiggled your dick back and forth on Karina’s tongue, lubing up the underside of your head. 

“Whenever you’re ready…” She reminded you. 

You didn’t need to be told twice. You cupped the sides of Karina’s face, hips moving forward slowly. Jimin’s lips wrapped around your length, holding your member in place as you steadily hilted herself into her warm, wet mouth. You stopped when the tip of your cock hit the back of your throat, sighing as Karina began applying gentle suction around your hard length. Her cheeks hollowed, innocent eyes staring back at you as you began thrusting into her mouth. You slowly let your shaft slide smoothly between her plump lips, Karina staying perfectly still for you. A groan left your throat, your fingers gripping her face a little tighter.

“Hey, hey… What are you doing, Squeaky?” Ryujin asked. “Didn’t you hear me? Fuck her face.”

You stared at the girl on her knees before you. Her demure gaze faltered for a moment, revealing the hunger and lust behind her eyes.

Something snapped within you. You gripped Jimin’s face tightly. 

Popping your hips back, Karina gags when you slam yourself back in, spit flying out the corners of her mouth as you wildly piston yourself in and out of those pink lips. Drool leaks out of the small openings of her lips, flowing down from either side of your cock. The slimy fluid splattered onto her cute face, each harsh thrust you delivered into her mouth sending your cock deep into her mouth. The surface of her tongue cushioned your shaft, guiding you into her mouth perfectly with each entrance while the gentle suction tried to pull you back with each exit.

“Not quite my tempo Squeaker…” Ryujin muttered in disappointment. You felt her hands on your butt, pushing you deeper into Karina’s mouth.

“Faster…” Ryujin demanded.

You complied eagerly, feeling your hips begin to move at a frantic pace. Karina’s large breasts swayed, her spit dripping onto the floor and onto her tits as you took the young girl’s mouth. She had gotten used to your pace, bobbing her head forward each time you thrusted back in to her warm entrance.

Tears gathered at the corner of Karina’s eyes. Her hands gripped your thighs like vices as she maintained eye contact with you. Her eyes told you everything you needed to know. She wanted it faster, harder, deeper. 

You were practically shoving your cock down her throat. Your eyes left Jimin’s, finding the ceiling to stare at while you pleasured yourself with Karina. The gurgling from her throat sent vibrations up your throbbing cock, shocking you with volts of pleasure. Nothing had ever felt this good. 

Ryujin appeared behind her friend on her knees. You noted that she had already shed her clothes, buck naked as she knelt behind Karina. She pushed Jimin’s perfectly rounded breasts together, allowing you to stare down the ample cleavage. Bits of drool and precum slid down her breasts. Ryujin made it a point to rub the mix of fluids into Karina’s skin. She played with the busty girl’s chest contently.

You couldn’t last any longer in this bliss. With great effort, you looked towards Ryujin

“Down her throat,” Ryujin instructed, reading your mind. “Give that slutty little girl a nice big load down her throat Squeaker…”

With a few more deep thrusts into Jimin’s mouth, you finally reach your limit. Shoving your cock all the way down your throat, you grunt before throbbing inside the tightness of her contracting opening. Ryujin held Jimin’s head in place, holding her steady while you shot your seed down the girl’s throat. She gagged, eyes bulging slightly, but she took it well. You felt every rope that surged up and out of your cock, enjoying the feeling of your hot cum exploding into that tight little mouth.

You recovered. Stumbling back, your cock slipped out of Jimin’s mouth. The girl gasped for air. Her face was in a sloppy mess, small trails of white fluid leaking out the sides of her mouth. Your head hit the floor, chest heaving as you watched Karina gulp down your load. 

You felt a set of hands on your chest, followed by a set of lips on yours. Ryujin kissed her way down, taking her time as she kissed a path down from your lips to your torso. From your torso, she made her way down to your cock. Her tongue darted out, licking up the cum that was left on your dick. She thoroughly cleaned you off with her mouth afterwards, slurping on your length hungrily. She teased you a little more before deciding she had enough. 

Your member popped out of her mouth after some time. She grinned, slapping your glistening dick against her cheek and delivering a few slow strokes. 

“Rest up Squeaky… It’s my turn with Jimin now…” 

She rose from the floor, leaving your cock unattended—much to your disappointment. Ryujin sauntered over to Karina, who had just finished recovering from her face-fuck. The bassist knelt down, capturing the other woman in a kiss. Ryujin’s hands snaked behind Jimin’s back, unhooking the clasps of her bra and pulling the undergarment off Jimin’s person.

Their tongues duelled, a lewd sight unveiling before you. Soft sighs came from each of the girls, floating gently into your ears.

When they parted, a single string of saliva kept them connected. Ryujin giggled, placing her hands on Karina’s shoulders.

“Lay down for me Karina…” Ryujin demanded. Jimin nodded, obediently sinking down onto her back. Once Karina was flat out on the floor, Ryujin captured one of Karina’s taught nipples in her mouth. Her hands roaming all over the pianist’s body, Karina sighing airily. Her legs quivered, eyes closed in pleasure as Ryujin slipped a hand under her panties. 

“Oh… Oh shit…” Karina murmured, a hand gently resting on Ryujin’s head.

“You’re soaking wet darling…” Ryujin chuckled, fingers busying themselves with Karina’s folds. Jimin gasped, eyes going wide. Ryujin smiled devilishly, fingers rubbing a circle beneath Karina’s panties. 

“You must be so turned on right now…” Ryujin continued to taunt. “A horny… little… slut…”

She swished her tongue across the girl’s left nipple, eliciting a strained cry out Jimin. 

“Fuck! O-Oh my god… I’m… I’m a horny slut…” Karina admitted shamelessly. Ryujin smirked. 

“Good girl Jimin… I like your honesty,” She nodded. “Let’s see how much you like this...”

Ryujin pulled Karina’s panties down, exposing her glistening pussy. The short-haired girl slipped her digits into Jimin’s folds, pumping themselves in and out. Karina let a long, drawn-out moan escape past her parted lips, eyes rolling to the back of her head. 

Ryujin licked her lips, watching with contained glee as Karina’s back arched deliciously, thighs quivering violently. The squelching of Jimin’s wet cunt was nothing far from a turn on, her high-pitched moans and sharp gasps mixing excellently with the profanities that tumbled out from her mouth. Ryujin continued to gently work between Karina’s flushed thighs, her hands staying steady, her pace even steadier. She teased the other girl relentlessly, whispering filthy sentences, nibbling on Jimiin’s ear, kneading those full tits… The sight was erotic to say the least. 

“God damn… You’re so fucking hot when you're a mess…” Ryujin mused, twisting Karina’s nipple. Jimin cried out in pleasure, a cute whine cutting through her moans.

You found your hand on your re-erected cock. Stroking lazily, you watched Ryujin make Karina bend to her will, both figuratively and literally. Before you knew it, Karina’s moans and exclamations began increasing in volume. Her hips began to move, forcing Ryujin’s fingers deeper into her slick cunt. Jimin’s hands flew up to her breasts, squeezing them violently.

“O-Oh fuck… R-Ryujin… D-Don’t stop…” Karina mewled. Ryujin cocked her head. 

“Why? Are you close baby girl?”  Ryujin questioned. Karina could only manage a nod, biting hard on her bottom lip while she thrashed against Ryujin’s hand. The bassist didn’t seem to be too amused. 

Ryujin’s free hand shot down to Karina’s crotch, holding the other girl down firmly while she extracted her fingers from the wet folds of Jimin’s pussy. Jimin whined in protest. 

“Shhhh… Whining won’t help you baby…” Ryujin calmed her, examining her glistening fingers under the light. She brought her fingers to her mouth, sucking them clean of Karina’s fluids. 

“Wow… You taste amazing Jimin…” Ryujin mused. She slapped Jimin’s tits, making them sway and redden as she got up on her knees. 

“I got a taste of you… Now you taste me…”

Ryujin straddled Karina’s face in a flash. Facing you, she sank her crotch down onto the other girl’s face, hands pinning Karina’s wrists to the floor. Jimin seemed to know just what to do. 

You watched, absolutely entranced as Karina’s jaw opened. You saw the flash of her pink tongue, followed by a moan from the girl atop of her a split second later. 

“Oh fuck… You always eat me so well Jimin…” Ryujin sighed, closing her eyes as she let the pleasure wash over her. Her words seemed to have encouraged her friend, and Jimin doubled her efforts. Karina’s chin moved deftly, jaw opening and closing in well timed intervals. Ryujin’s breath seemed to hitch in her throat, head whipping back.

“T-That’s it… Eat me out Karina… Eat me out with that slutty tongue,” Ryujin hissed.

Watching became too much for you… You wanted in. 

You crawled over to the two girls. Ryujin opened her eyes just in time to see you on your knees, pumping your shaft mere inches away from Karina’s glistening pussy lips. She bit her lower lip, fighting back a moan before she gave you a nod. 

Your hands shot out, grasping Karina’s panties and pulling them all the way down. You heard a muffled noise come from Karina. Ryujin cried out in pleasure, feeling the reverberation from Jimin’s voice in her pussy.

“O-Oh fuck… J-Jesus… Keep making her moan like that…” She whispered to you. Luckily for her, you knew how to fulfil her request. 

Your palms pushed open Karina’s legs. Her slick lips were ready for the taking, and you weren’t going to wait anymore. You gripped your throbbing length, slapping your cock against Karina’s flushed pussy lips a few times before you thrusted yourself into Jimin. 

Her mouth felt great, but her pussy felt even better. Her tight walls gripped you from the get-go, a hoarse curse flying out of your mouth as you savoured the feel of her walls twitching around you. You didn’t even bother trying to build up on your pace with Karina, jackhammering yourself in and out from her hot slick from the moment you started fucking her. Her pussy made your vision go fuzzy, the sheer tightness of her womanhood sending you into a feral state. You pounded away, slamming yourself into the young girl roughly and relentlessly. You nailed her, speared her, fucked her into a muffled, mewling mess between you and Ryujin. 

Her dampened screams sounded amazing, and Ryujin’s cries melded together with them to form an ear-tingling symphony of pleasure. It was lewd, oh so lewd as you took in the sight of two girls moaning and quivering before you, the squelching, slapping and exclamations of pleasure bouncing off the walls of Jimin’s apartment. Jimin tightened even more around your cock, Ryujin capturing you in a passionate kiss. 

Under the given circumstances, you didn’t expect any of you to last much longer. Ryujin was the first to succumb to her pleasure, a loud scream heralding the arrival of her orgasm. Her tight body trembled atop Jimin, thighs clamping shut around either side of the pianist’s head, forcing Jimin’s tongue as deep as it could go. Her hands left Jimin's wrists, squeezing the mound of juicy flesh on Karina’s chest for dear life as she came.

She collapsed a few moments later, falling to the floor with a thud. She heaved on the floor, sweat-matted hair sticking to her face. 

Karina’s hands were free now, and she used her new range of movement to grab your shoulders and pull you towards her. Her breasts shook violently, bouncing and jiggling hypnotically as you continued your frantic motions. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum…” She spat.

Four words, one shared sentiment.

Her fingers dug into your shoulder blades. Your pace increased, and so did the intensity of her moans. You could feel the dull throb of your second orgasm slowly approaching, a familiar prickle in your cock. 

Karina, unlike Ryujin, didn’t let out a single sound when she came. You only knew she had climaxed when her body stiffened beneath you, mouth gaped open in a silent scream of pleasure. Her already tight walls squeezed the life out of you, gripping your cock firmly while you fucked her through her orgasm. She went limp, her sighs and sharp intakes of breath filtering in through your ear.

“Cum… Cum in me…” Karina whispered, wrapping her hands lightly behind your neck. “Fill my little pussy up… I want to feel it leaking out of me.”

Her words drove you over the edge. You let out a guttural groan, burying yourself balls-deep in Karina’s well-fucked pussy. You throbbed inside of her, your seed oozing out of you and spilling into her. The twitching walls of her cunt milking you tenderly, your eyes closing in bliss. You savoured the sensation of Karina’s body flushed against yours, soft gasps from Karina wafting into your ears with each hot rope that entered her . She finds your lips, bringing you into a soft kiss as the last of your seed gets delivered into her awaiting pussy. 

You slip out of her, shaft sore and flaccid as you roll over and collapse next to Karina’s spent body. As requested, cum leaked out from Karina’s slackened pussy lips, oozing onto the floor. Ryujin finds the strength to crawl over next to you, crashing down on your left and sandwiching you between two equally beautiful and spent girls. 

No words were exchanged as Ryujin rested her head on your chest, her hand lazily pumping your shaft. She let out a sigh of satisfaction, your eyes closing as you enjoyed the tingle of her breath on your sweaty skin. Off on your left, you felt Karina lace her hand with yours.

You let yourself drift off on Jimin’s hard floor, knowing full well you’d have to address this with the two girls the next morning.

~~~~~~

You found yourself back behind the drumkit the next afternoon, a glove–provided by Ryujin herself after you insisted on playing—adorning your injured hand as you tune your snare to perfection. The threesome with Karina and Ryujin had been agreed to be swept under the rug over coffee that morning, followed by another intensive round with the two girls in Jimin’s shower that made you late for lectures that morning. 

The three of you attended classes like nothing ever happened, though when you happened to be in the same lecture as Ryujin, she made it a point to sit next to you and tease you relentlessly. You managed to get her to stop before things got out of hand, but she did force you into a bathroom on your way to the studio, milking your sore cock with her mouth and taking a load up her ass. 

You were exhausted by the time you were back in the studio, but you hid it well under the five cups of coffee you had with Ryujin in the canteen after she was finished with you.

The door to the recording studio burst open, and a thrilled Kwon Eunbi stood at the opening. 

“You guys! I found us a trumpeter!” She squealed. Your interest was piqued, and so was everyone else’s, as all stopped what they were doing. Eunbi quickly stepped into the room, gesturing for someone outside to come in. 

“Come in!” She encouraged the mysterious person. You silently prayed that she had found another guy to accompany you in the band. 

A single Nike air-force one planted itself on the carpeted floor of the recording studio, the leg of its wearer emerging past the door as they stepped in… 

A girl with a bob-cut similar to Ryujin’s entered the room. Your heart dropped as you recognised her side profile, eyes widening as you locked eyes with your ex-girlfriend. 

She stood there, staring back at you with that pink trumpet case in hand. You couldn’t read her expression but you definitely spotted that familiar flash of annoyance in those fiesty eyes before she turned to Eunbi. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Kim Chaewon asked vexatiously, jabbing a finger towards you.

------------------------------

Ngl this was an absolute mess to write. I had to re-write this entire damn thing like 5 times.

Anyway, thank you for reading :)). I'm open to suggestions on who you guys want as a Saxophonist, so leave a comment or an ask if you have someone in mind.

Stay safe, stay swaggy and I'll see ya'll...