leafostuff

[leafostuff]

Adorable Wonyoung is best Wonyoung

🤔mmmh... time to get a job, folks

[leafostuff]

Yes yes yes yes yes, oh my god yes this was an amazing debut fic, the dialogue was amazing, characters were very coherent and everything felt right

Once again, welcome aboard Moss, so happy to have you here

You Write Better When You Improvise

seol yoon-ah x male reader

college au, pwp, build up, fluff (?), smut

8k words

Orientation is loud.

That's the first thought that comes into your head as you step into the auditorium, shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of strangers, all pretending they aren't just as lost as you are.

There's music being blasted from cheap speakers and the occasional whistle of a mic being tested by an emcee trying too hard to impress. The chatters of hundreds of people reverberate and ring throughout the auditorium like a rising tide, layered over the sound of shuffling feet and plastic chairs scraping against the floor.

Someone beside you is already scribbling notes in a welcome booklet like it's a test paper. You step sideways, trying not to elbow anyone, scanning rows of identical tote bags and unfamiliar heads.

In a sea of faces, you're finding it hard to spot her. She said she'd meet you here. "Auditorium B," she texted casually, like it wasn't your first day on a campus you didn't recognise, surrounded by people two years younger but somehow already ahead.

Your phone buzzes again.

jiwoo: i lied. i’m late. again. u love me anyway also they gave us these ugly tote bags lol you: 😐

You sighed. She hadn't changed in the 18 months you were gone. Still the same old chronic texter, serial latecomer, and one of the only people who actually kept in touch while you were halfway across the country doing push-ups at the crack of dawn.

Unlike every other guy your age, you decided to enlist right after graduating high school in hopes that you would be able to complete uni life without any military service disruptions.

You ended up with exactly that — 18 months of routine, of shaved heads and strict orders, of standing at attention while your friends posted party photos from their freshman dorms.

You sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. The AC's doing nothing against the mix of perfumes and colognes, sweat, and nerves lingering in the auditorium. You loosen the strap of your sling bag and take another quick glance around, still no sign of her.

You're debating whether to leave and pretend you never came when a voice calls out — familiar, exasperating.

"God, you're tall. Why'd I forget that?"

You turn just in time to catch Jiwoo elbowing through a pair of freshmen with a grin that says she's not even sorry, tote bag already crumpled like she wrestled it. Her hair's lighter compared to the last time you saw her, dyed in a way that catches the fluorescent lights.

She looks every inch the experienced university sophomore she is — smug, seasoned, and thirty minutes late. You stand almost a whole foot taller than her, albeit not a difficult feat with her petite stature. It's good to see her after only looking at unfamiliar faces all morning, and after seeing none that felt like home.

Jiwoo looks up at you, squinting like she's doing mental math. "Wait," she says, deadpan." You didn't grow again, right? Please tell me the military didn't feed you Miracle-Gro."

You let out a hearty chuckle, the kind that hadn't escaped your throat in a long time. The thing with Jiwoo is that she always knew how to make you laugh. "Nah, just protein shakes and existential dread."

She grins, walking the last few steps and throwing an arm casually around your waist (she's not tall enough for your shoulders). "Welcome to hell, by the way. Civilian edition. I expect full obedience, hoobae."

You groan as you fall into step beside her. "I'm still older than you, y'know."

"I'm a sophomore and you're a freshman. In my books, that makes me the senior here," she shoots back, sticking her tongue out. "And you're gonna be lost for at least a week, so you'd better follow my lead."

Her relentless teasing comes pouring down, just like it did back in high school. It's like she was never gone, and for a second, it almost feels like time never moved at all since graduation.

You both fall into an easy rhythm, dodging slow-walking freshmen and the occasional overenthusiastic orientation group trying to start a cheer. Jiwoo gives half-hearted finger guns at some juniors who clearly recognise her, and you can already tell she's one of those campus names — not quite all-campus famous, but definitely not quite forgettable either.

"You nervous?" she asks after a beat.

You shrug. "Not really. Kind of surreal, though. Like I blinked and skipped a year of life."

"You did," she says. "You skipped the awkward hookups, all-nighters, bad haircuts, and falling asleep in lectures." She stops and ponders for a second, "Actually, in all honesty, you basically missed nothing."

"Except," you say, "you got to be my senior."

Her eyes twinkle mischievously. "And I've been waiting for this payback for a long time. Me, the junior, once bullied by you, now equipped with the same power."

"Bullied? I never bullied you."

"You always took the last banana milk at the convenience store and walked away without looking back."

"That's called being efficient."

"You're evil."

Before you can respond, Jiwoo's gaze catches someone near the auditorium doors.

"Oh! Yoon-Ah!"

You follow her gaze and see a girl leaning lightly against the wall next to the doors, scrolling through her phone. She looks up and waves back when Jiwoo calls, and your breath stutters for half a second.

She's beautiful. Ethereal, even, in the kind of quiet way that makes you stare without meaning to. Clean lines, soft features that remind you of a deer, and an air of calm that contrasts so sharply with the noise of the auditorium. Her eyes land on you with gentle curiosity, and suddenly, you're very aware of how wrinkled your shirt is.

"She's my roommate," Jiwoo says as the girl approaches. "Be nice or I'll tell her all your high school secrets."

You nod, straightening instinctively before frowning at her words. "I was always nice."

"Hi," the girl says with a smile that's both polite and a little amused. "I'm Sullyoon."

You nod again, maybe too quickly. "Hey. I'm—uh. Jiwoo's friend."

Jiwoo snorts. "He's fresh out of the army, awkward as hell, and apparently he forgot how to talk to pretty girls."

Sullyoon blinks, then covers her mouth as she chuckles — an angelical, infectious laugh where her shoulders shake at the same time, and it’s the kind of sound that makes you want to hear it again.

"Welcome to campus," she says. "Don't worry. We're not all freshmen."

"She's your sunbae now, too," Jiwoo says with a wide grin.

You sigh. "Great. Two of you."

Sullyoon glances at Jiwoo, amused. "He's fun."

"Oh," Jiwoo says, as her trademark mischievous grin spreads across her face. "You have no idea."

And just like that, you're being ushered to sit with them, Sullyoon sliding in beside you, Jiwoo plopping her bag down like it’s her house, and the emcee finally getting the mic to stop screeching.

Voices drone on in the background, but your attention has shifted. You're entranced by the presence of the girl sitting beside you; you'd only just met her, and yet it feels calm and grounding, like a quiet island amid the chaotic sea of orientation noise.

Jiwoo's still rattling off stories about campus life, but you catch Sullyoon's eyes flickering toward you now and then — curious, amused, maybe even a little intrigued.

After a while, Jiwoo nudges you both. "Lunch? My treat. By that I mean I'm starving and have zero self-control around campus food courts and I need my friends to accompany me so I'm bribing you with money."

You glance at Sullyoon, who shrugs with a smile. "I'm in. I need fuel to survive Jiwoo's terrible jokes."

You grin. “That makes two of us.”

Jiwoo gasps dramatically, as if she genuinely offended. "Terrible? I'll have you know people pay good money for this level of comedy."

"Who?" you deadpan.

"Me," she says proudly. "I pay myself in serotonin."

The three of you exit the auditorium, stepping into the bright afternoon sun. Jiwoo leads the way, weaving through clusters of freshmen. You walk beside Sullyoon, the noise fading a little as the two of you fall into an easy rhythm.

"So," she begins, glancing sideways at you, "freshman year, huh? Must be weird starting uni after the army."

You chuckle. "Weird is an understatement. It's like everyone else hit pause on life while I was stuck in fast-forward."

She nods. "I get that. I took a gap year before starting uni. Everyone felt so far ahead. That and, well… almost everyone in my cohort's a year younger, so I always feel slightly off-sync."

You laugh heartily, only the second one today, and the first not caused by Jiwoo. "Mine’s two years younger. So there’s that."

She smiles, eyes crinkling just a bit. "Guess you're not alone, then."

There's a pause, and for a moment, it feels like the world around you has dimmed to just the two of you.

Then Jiwoo's voice breaks in, loud and obnoxious as ever. "Welcome to my favourite bubble tea chain! I need a sip of this every day. Also, I’m really craving fried chicken right now."

You muse at Jiwoo's ability to spoil the moment, comparable to a human sledgehammer — but somehow, the warmth lingers, even after the spell is gone. You glance at Sullyoon next to you, her face equally as amused, and you can’t help but think that things can only go up from here.

The first few weeks feel like a breeze, even as the campus hums with the nervous energy of new beginnings and deadlines. Classes roll by in a whirlwind of lectures, discussions, and late-night readings, but somehow, the chaos feels less overwhelming with familiar presences next to you.

Late nights over at Jiwoo's and Sullyoon's dorm become the norm; more often than not, they end with bottles of soju scattered all over the floor, sometimes even shards of broken glass. With Jiwoo's lightweight nature, there are countless times you find yourself carrying her to bed while Sullyoon quietly cleans up the mess.

Sullyoon rarely joins in the drinking, with her being a lightweight herself, so most of the chaos is courtesy of you doing the heavy lifting.

"Thanks for cleaning up again," you say, slumping onto the couch and rubbing your temples. "I may have gone a little overboard with the drinking this time."

She glances over with a small smile, handing you a glass of water. "You say that every time. Maybe next time, try pacing yourself?"

You grin sheepishly. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Her eyes sparkle with amusement, and the easy silence between you feels warmer than the soju ever could. A warmth you feel unfamiliar with, as if she's unlocking some part of you you didn’t even know was sealed shut — something softer, quieter, untouched by the noise of routine and the years that blurred past you.

You steal a glance at her, watching as she methodically wipes the coffee table clean, hair falling slightly over her face. The lamp in the back illuminates her in a soft halo, highlighting and casting a golden hue across her cheekbones.

Her soft hair drops down in a way that brushes gently against her cheek, framing her features with an effortless elegance — the kind she never seems aware of. She tucks a strand behind her ear absentmindedly, focused on the task at hand, but your eyes linger a little longer than they should.

"You always take care of everything," you murmur.

She pauses, not looking up. "Someone has to. You and Jiwoo are hopeless."

You chuckle, leaning back. "I think I’m starting to depend on you too much."

This time, she looks at you. Not with a smirk or a tease, but something gentler, deeper. "Then I guess it’s a good thing I don't mind."

The silence returns, but something's changed. It feels different now. And you wonder if she feels it too.

Midterms roll around faster than expected as April arrives. The campus library becomes your second home. The hushed whispers and scratches people make on paper add to the ambience that helps you with your concentration on your project. A creative writing project, part of a minor you picked up more out of impulse than foresight.

But the further you go, the more you realise you needed it — the writing, the space to untangle your own thoughts, to turn emotions into something readable.

Yoon-Ah, as you've grown to call her, becomes a constant in your life. Late-night ramyeon cooking and spontaneous movie breaks between study sessions become routine. They're not planned, not discussed, just understood.

general seol: i’m hungry :( buldak or neoguri you: why even ask if you always just choose buldak general seol: you never know when I feel like having something more soupy you: and if on that same day, jiwoo miraculously stops cracking puns, then I’ll know for sure the world is ending general seol: whatever we’re rewatching zootopia this time, you don’t get to choose

It surprises you how easy it is — how seamless her presence fits into your days. There's a rhythm now, a shared playlist of habits and glances. She becomes visibly more comfortable, no longer bothered by unintentional touches and knees bumping on the couch during movie time, or shoulders touching on the way back to the dorm from grocery runs.

Late-night calls become more frequent, almost a necessity before ending the day, sometimes going way deep into the night. There are even a couple of times you fall asleep to each other's breathing and wake up the next day with your phone still warm in your hand.

You start to know more about each other, how she has two younger siblings, how she took Spanish classes in high school and travelled to Madrid during her gap year, and the small things, like how she only wore crop tops in her dorm, how she had a playful side to her usually prim and proper self.

And before you know it, she starts joining you during your library time.

"You always look like you’re about to monologue when you're stuck," she teases one afternoon. She's resting her head on the desk with her hair sprawled out across the wooden table, staring up at you as you focus on your typing.

"That's because I am," you reply, deadpan. "I'm a tortured artist, Yoon-Ah. Respect the process."

She snorts, tossing an eraser at you. "You’re just stalling."

But then she sits up, crosses her legs, and says, "Okay. Tell me what your character wants. Start there."

And just like that, without even realising it, she’s helping you write as well.

One weekend in late May, Jiwoo heads home for a family gathering, suitcase in hand, leaving the two of you alone in the dorm. It's raining, and you end up watching another movie together after a grocery run. Halfway through, you realise you've stopped paying attention.

Yoon-Ah is curled into the corner of the couch, blanket up to her chin, hair slightly damp from the walk back from the supermarket, clinging softly to the sides of her face. The faint scent of rain clings to her, mixed with that subtle floral aroma that’s become oddly comforting to you — like an anchor in the middle of the storm.

The dim light casts gentle shadows across her features, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw and the smooth arch of her eyebrows. Her doe-like eyes, usually filled with mirth and amusement, are half-closed now, heavy with tiredness but still holding that quiet spark that always draws you in.

She yawns and turns to you, whispering something about the cinematography — but you don’t really catch it. You just nod.

Your shoulders are touching, and you hesitate to inch your hands closer to hers.

By the time the credits are about to roll, the blanket falls to the ground as she falls asleep.

You can't help but notice her midriff, exposed to the cold breeze of the AC. Toned and smooth, her fair skin taut over gentle curves. A faint line of delicate muscle traces down toward her waist, hinting at quiet strength beneath the softness.

Your eyes move up to her chest, rising up and down, her cleavage visible as her top was slightly pulled down lower than usual.

You swallow, your heart beating a little faster in the dim light. You look away out of restraint, afraid of what thoughts your brain might conjure up.

Just thinking about her in that way intoxicates you more than any other alcohol. 18 months in the military straight out of high school left you in solitary. Apart from a couple of casual hookups with Jiwoo on certain leave days, you were almost new to and deprived of sex.

And with the fast-paced routine of everyone in university life, it's hard to catch anyone's eye. That, and the fact that everyone in your cohort is 2 years younger, which, to you, is a no-go. You draw the line at 1.

Anyway, you spent all your free time with Jiwoo and Yoon-Ah, so it’s not like you're out there looking for someone. Besides, you had more important studies to focus on.

She suddenly mutters something in her sleep, probably just a sound caught between dreams. You pause, then gently pick the blanket up from the floor, draping it over her again. To keep her warm, yes, but that's not the only reason why — though that's what you try to tell yourself.

As you lean back and your eyes drift to the rain streaking across the windows, you're suddenly pulled back to a night about a month ago.

Jiwoo's birthday. It was right before midterms, a spur-of-the-moment party for her that had an underlying, "we're kinda only throwing this party to relax two days before exams" reason behind it, but Jiwoo didn't seem to mind.

It was originally supposed to be a quiet one, just the three of you, and it was meant to be a surprise, but with Jiwoo's quick wits and her sharp eyes, she pretty much caught on immediately.

Much to both your and Yoon-Ah's dismay, she ended up taking over the planning process and invited everyone she knew. The initially planned small celebration in the dorm (which you now considered to be your main place of stay; most nights you just crash on the couch) became a gigantic roof-top party, with only a handful of people you recognised that you could count on one hand.

Yoon-Ah seemed to be on the same boat as you, looking like a damsel in distress, particularly highlighted by her doe-like features.

"Jiwoo sure is famous on campus, huh." You walked over to her, offering her a drink you filled up from the dispenser with a party cup. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took it, soft and lingering, just a split second too long to be accidental.

She glanced up at you with that same faint smile she always wore when Jiwoo was being Jiwoo — fond, exasperated, and just a little bit tired. Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, a quiet laugh slipping past her lips. "You're telling me. I thought we agreed on a quiet surprise, not a K-pop fan meet."

You chuckled, shifting your weight beside her against the railing. From here, you could see most of the rooftop crowd. Jiwoo was laughing with someone across the way, lights stringing overhead, music pulsing low and steady in the background.

But somehow, in that moment, the crowd blurred. Your awareness narrowed until it was just you and Yoon-Ah, side by side beneath the soft glow of the fairy lights. She smelled faintly of rose and something warmer, like vanilla, subtle and familiar — the kind of scent that clung to your hoodie after long nights together and lingered longer than you'd ever admit.

It took a couple more cups before you realised the drinks had alcohol in them, the clear indication being Yoon-Ah's flushed face and slurred words.

A clearer indication would be when she started to inch closer to you ever so slightly, before she fully leaned into your shoulder with a soft sigh, and you could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"You're warm," she mumbled, barely audible over the music, her fingers curling loosely around your wrist.

You laughed in response. Partly out of reflex, partly as a defence mechanism. You were entering uncharted physical touch territory, and your body didn't quite know what to do with itself. “You’re drunk.”

She blinked up at you, slow and lazy, her lashes heavy, lips parted in that loose, unguarded way intoxication sometimes brings. "Nooo, I’m — okay, maybe a little," she drawled, letting the words hang in the air like fog.

Then, without moving her head from your shoulder, she tilted it slightly toward you, her breath warm against your neck. "You’ve got that army energy, you know…"

You turned your head just enough to look at her. "What does that even mean?"

Her smile turned playful — slow, slightly crooked, like the alcohol had softened the lines of her usual expressions. "Like… you'd be really good at… building tents. Giving orders. Kinda in a hot way but... emotionally constipated."

You snorted. "Wow. Thanks?"

"I'm just saying," she murmured, almost sing-song now, like every word required a bit more effort than she meant it to. Her fingers, still wrapped around your wrist, moved slightly — a light, dragging touch that lingered too long to be accidental.

There was a pause. Not long enough to be awkward, but long enough for the air to shift. For her to lean in a little closer, enough for her voice to fall into a murmur only you could hear.

"I bet you lost your virginity before enlistment, huh."

Another thing you learned about her: with her inhibitions lowered from alcohol, she really had no filter with her boldness. It was like a complete 180 from her usual self.

You turned, startled, caught between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment. She was watching you through half-lidded eyes, a mischievous flicker in them despite her intoxicated haze.

"…Seriously?"

She gave a one-shouldered shrug, loose and unbothered. "So? Am I wrong?"

You thought for a bit, wondering whether you should answer her, before finally giving in, "You are, actually." You pondered on whether you should reveal the next part to her.

Yoon-Ah caught on to your hesitation immediately, her eyes narrowing — or at least trying to, given how slowly her facial muscles seemed to be cooperating. Her curiosity was piqued now, stirred awake by the alcohol and her usual inability to let things go once she caught a thread of intrigue.

"What aren't you saying?" she prodded, voice slurred but sharp enough to cut. "Come on. Spill."

You hesitated, rubbing the back of your neck. Then, with a resigned sigh, you caved.

"I hooked up with Jiwoo when I was on leave," you admitted, your voice low. "Just last year. She was… the first."

You braced yourself, unsure what reaction you were expecting — discomfort, judgment, maybe even jealousy — but definitely not what came next.

A soft giggle escaped her lips, quickly bubbling into a full-bodied laugh — loud and unrestrained, the loudest you had heard from her in the almost two months of knowing each other, her head tilting back as she clutched at her sides.

It was the most uninhibited sound you'd ever heard from her.

"That makes two of us then," she managed between breaths, then grinning at the look on your face.

You stared at her, blinking once. Then twice.

"…You’re kidding."

She wiped at the corner of her eye, still laughing a little as the remnants of amusement softened into something gentler, more reflective. "Nope."

You tried to wrap your head around it — not just the confession, but how casually she said it, like it wasn't a bombshell. Like she hadn't just completely rearranged your understanding of the two most constant people in your life.

You tilted your head. "When?"

She shrugged, leaning her weight back against the wall as her body swayed slightly, her arm brushing yours again — whether by accident or intention, you couldn't tell. "Sometime during freshman year. It was… kinda messy. But not dramatic. We were both drunk, bored, and frankly a little lonely." She paused, gaze drifting past your shoulder, out into the haze of rooftop lights. "She kissed me first, if you're wondering."

You weren't sure how to respond, as something shifted somewhere in your chest. You weren't sure whether it was feelings of relief or jealousy, or something in between. But instead of overthinking it, you just went with it.

"Makes sense," you said, lips quirking up. "She is a pretty good kisser. I’ll give her that."

She turned to look at you, blinking slowly — then burst into laughter again, though this time it was quieter, more breath than sound. Her hand found your arm, fingers curling loosely around your wrist as if to steady herself.

"You're the worst," she said, but there was no bite to it. Her thumb brushed against your skin, absentminded, like she didn’t even realise she was doing it. And you didn’t move away.

"I mean," she went on, head tilting slightly, her words still a little slurred but more deliberate now, "I always figured there was something between you two. The way you looked at her. The way she teased you." She squinted at you, expression amused. "But I don't swing that way, if you're wondering. It was just for fun." She looked at you, as if hoping for some sort of reaction.

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Just for fun, huh? You and Jiwoo have pretty interesting definitions of boredom, then."

She scoffs, nudging your arm with hers. "You're one to talk, Mr 'She was my first.' What, no heartfelt confessions? Candlelight?"

"Please, I don't see her that way, and we both know that. I just needed some stress relief from the army, and Jiwoo needed it too."

It was her turn to look at you with her eyebrow raised, so you indulged further.

"Plus, it was in her car. After bibimbap. Romantic as hell."

That earns another laugh — her hand flying to her mouth too late to stifle it. "God, that's awful."

"It was foggy," you say, mock solemn. "We couldn't see out of the windows, Titanic style."

"You did not just compare Jiwoo's Kia to the Titanic."

You shrug. "It makes sense. I was Jack, she was Rose. The dashboard was the iceberg, how it killed the sex."

She groans, collapsing sideways and almost falling over the railing. "You're the worst person I know." You couldn't help but grin.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there in that shared understanding, the hum of the city below, wrapping around the rooftop like a warm current. Then Yoon-Ah's fingers gave a slight squeeze around your wrist, grounding.

You turned to look at her. The rooftop light hit the edge of her cheekbone, casting soft shadows across her face. You suddenly became aware of how close she was — how her knees were angled just barely toward yours, how her lips were parted like she still had more to say but hadn’t quite figured out the words.

"…Are you drunk-drunk?" you asked, only half-joking.

She smiled — slow, sly, knowing. "Maybe."

Then, after a beat: "But not too drunk to know that I’m glad I stayed behind tonight."

Something in the way she said it made your pulse stutter.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol talking, or if it was just her being unfiltered, unafraid. But for the first time, you let yourself lean into it.

"Me too."

Suddenly, a flash of light interrupts your memory, then a low, rolling crack of thunder tears through the room.

You blink, disoriented for a moment, as the rooftop, the party, and the warmth of Yoon-Ah's laugh dissolve into the here and now.

The thunder jolts you back to the dorm couch. The screen is dark, the movie long finished. The rain has thickened into a steady downpour against the windows, and the occasional rumble of thunder rolls through the air like distant cannon fire.

Yoon-Ah stirs from beside you, her body tensing briefly before relaxing again, blinking up at the ceiling with bleary confusion.

"...What time is it?" she mumbles, voice raspy with sleep. Her hair is slightly messy now, sticking to her cheek, and the blanket you'd pulled over her is twisted around her legs. She shifts, then winces. "Ugh, my neck."

You glance at the clock on Jiwoo's desk. "Almost eleven."

She sits up slowly, groaning, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't mean to knock out. What even happened in the movie?"

You shrug. "No idea. I stopped watching after the opening credits."

She lets out a breathy laugh and turns to face you, knees drawn up to her chest under the blanket. "Nice. So neither of us knows how it ends."

"It's fine, it was probably a pretty shit movie anyway." You glance over at her, bundled up in the blanket and her posture curled into a ball on the couch, hair a mess, sleep still lingering in her eyes, giving off the vibe of a domestic girlfriend.

After a moment of comfortable silence, she suggests, "We should probably get back to work, shouldn't we? Don't you still have that one creative writing assignment?"

You groan at the reminder. It's the same one you'd been putting off for weeks, stuck at the same line, the same blank page that somehow felt more personal than it had any right to be. Your task required you to add a mature spin on your piece, and you were struggling with the details.

"I hate that you remember things like this," you mutter, dragging a hand down your face.

She grins, stretching her arms above her head before flopping back against the couch cushions. "Someone has to hold you accountable."

You sigh, already dragging your laptop over from the coffee table and flipping it open with all the enthusiasm of a funeral march. She does the same with her iPad, propping it up on her knees and opening her notes app.

For a while, the only sound you hear is the low hum of rain with the occasional thunder, and the soft tapping of keys and stylus against glass. It's oddly peaceful and domestic, in a way that makes your chest ache with something you don't want to name.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes pass. Then, out of nowhere:

"Hey."

You glance up. She isn't looking at you, still staring at her screen, light reflecting off the frame of her reading glasses, but there's a slight furrow in her brow now. Like she's hesitating.

"Just now, when I was sleeping, I dreamt of something."

Your interest is piqued as you shift closer to her every so slightly.

"That night on the rooftop," she says slowly, "Jiwoo's party... did I ever say anything weird to you?"

You freeze, fingers hovering over your keyboard, mid-sentence.

"...Define weird?"

She finally meets your eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I dunno. I just... I remember laughing a lot. You said something about Jiwoo being a good kisser, and I remember thinking, 'God, I should kiss him just to wipe that smug off his face.'"

You blink, startled, a flush crawling up your neck as you wonder if the alcohol from that day carried over in her system. "You—what?"

"I didn't, obviously." She's still smiling, but her voice has dipped lower, softer. "But I thought about it. That's what I remember."

You sit back slowly, marvelling at the coincidence that just about 20 minutes ago you were thinking about the exact same thing.

"Yeah," you murmur, just loud enough for her to hear. "I remember that too."

Another rumble of thunder rolls outside, low and distant this time.

The silence is different now; it's charged, like a pulled string waiting to snap. She doesn't look away, and neither do you.

Her hair's still tousled from sleep, a few strands falling into her eyes. Her cheeks are faintly flushed, maybe from the warmth of the blanket, maybe from something else. And the curve of her mouth is soft and uncertain, almost as if she's holding something back, like she's waiting for you to break first.

You take her in like you're seeing her for the first time — really seeing her. The delicate slope of her shoulders exposed from the crop top, her toned body that elicited such wild thoughts in your head, and the way she absently rubs a thumb against the blanket's edge.

Her bare legs are folded up beneath her, one foot peeking out from under the fabric, toes curling slightly against the cushion. There's something unguarded about her, her usual sharp wit and lazy confidence replaced with a quiet vulnerability.

She looks at you the way someone might study a half-finished painting, unsure if it's worth finishing, but unable to stop staring.

Your heart starts to beat louder than the rain as you swallow.

"Yoon-Ah..."

Your voice is barely above a whisper.

She doesn't respond right away — just watches you, eyes searching yours. Then her gaze flicks down, just briefly, to your lips.

And that's all it takes.

You lean in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, but she doesn't. Her eyes flutter shut just before your lips meet, unsure at first, like she was still starting to test the reality of it. It's hesitant and exploratory, but because she was her, it felt more warm and real.

Her hand finds your sleeve, fingers lightly curling there, grounding herself. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss just slightly, careful, reverent, like either of you might vanish if you move too fast.

When she pulls back, it's only by an inch. Her breath is warm against your cheek, unsteady, and you can feel the flutter of her lashes as her eyes open.

And in the quiet, with only the rain bearing witness, she whispers, "Just so we're clear," her voice husky, "there's no alcohol talking this time.

You smile, heart still hammering. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."

You lean back in for another kiss, a deeper one this time. She meets you halfway, more determined now.

Her hand rises to your jaw, thumb brushing the edge of your cheekbone. And when your tongue brushes lightly against her bottom lip, asking permission more than anything else, she grants it, parting her lips just enough.

Just when you think you're in control, she overwhelms you. She pulls away from your lips as her hand moves down from your jaw to your chest, pushing you back so that your back is lying on the armrest.

She climbs onto you, straddling your lap as her arms wrap around your neck.

Then, the most unexpected thing comes from her. "You still need help with that assignment, don’t you?"

Not exactly a mood spoiler, but it definitely confused you. "What?"

She grins, tired droopy eyelids gone as her energy seems to have returned, that mischievous glint returning to her eyes. It’s the same one you’d seen so many times during her teasing sessions in the library while you were trying to concentrate. Except this time, she’s seated on your lap, your hands still on her waist and hers around your neck, her breath ghosting across your lips.

"You heard me. Didn’t you say you had trouble continuing that part?" She smirks, her voice back to that low and playful tone.

You'd told her about the requirements of your project, how you were supposed to write something with a heavier, mature tone, and how you were stuck at the steamy scene. "Right, but… why are you talking about it now?"

Her grin spreads wider than ever, her eyes sparkling with a mix of confidence and… seduction?

She leans in next to your ear, breath heavy, and drops an absolute bombshell on you. "Well, you write better when you improvise, don’t you? I can help with that."

You look back up at her, your eyes blown wide open.

Before you���re able to respond, she pulls you back in with her arms and kisses you again. This time, it’s bolder, hungrier, as if she found her confidence and was now projecting it onto you. You have no choice but to respond with equal passion, your tongues meeting in a slow, steady rhythm. Her hands travel all over your hair, pulling you in closer in bunches, making it hurt in a good way.

Your hands travel down from her waist, slipping below the waistband of her sweatpants. She doesn’t object, so you grab a handful of her ass and give it a light squeeze, eliciting a muffled moan, an exhale that just feels so damn good with her lips against yours.

It’s heated, it's passionate, and it’s going way too fast, probably a release of the months of tension since meeting each other.

Her hands leave the mess that your hair is, a mess that she created, and they move down and slip under your shirt. She starts caressing your abs, her touch sending jolts throughout your entire body that even the thunderstorm couldn’t bring out of you.

You decide to just slip out of your shirt completely, and Yoon-Ah follows suit, taking off her crop top, and her perky breasts drop with a bounce. They're small, but to you they're perfect. You take her left nipple into your mouth and she yelps in response, throwing her head back. It only fuels you more, her reaction. You slide her sweatpants off, leaving her clad in her panties.

Regretfully, your mouth leaves her breasts as you take her by the waist, carrying her off your lap, and you lay her down on the couch. You start worshipping every inch of her body, her toned yet soft midriff, her breathy moans and sighs growing in frequency as her body trembled beneath you at your every touch.

Seeing her in this state, your member hardens even further, as you now contemplate moving down further. You leave a trail of kisses down to the elastic waistband of her panties, before looking up at her, more for permission than anything.

"P-please… don’t stop.."

That’s all the confirmation you need. You slip her panties down, revealing her slick opening, wet from all the teasing.

"God, you’re dripping for me already." You slip a finger in her slick folds, more to tease than anything. She shudders, moans getting higher pitched. "Oh, fuck…"

You try putting another finger in, this time with greater difficulty. "Holy shit, how are you this tight?" You marvel at it as your fingers circle her clit with purpose.

"I—oh god—it’s my first time." She tries to bring her knees up, as if overwhelmed by the stimulation.

"I recall someone saying they 'had fun' with Jiwoo before," you say in a playful tone, before focusing on thrusting in and out of her warm folds as your fingers become coated with her juices.

"My first time with a guy, asshole… oh shit, don’t stop, please…" She grabs the cushion, tight, her eyes shut, focusing purely on the pleasure.

"I wasn't planning to," you smirk, fingers thrusting harder. She seems to enjoy the added intensity as she starts to grind her hips against your hand, trying to stimulate it further for her. She’s sweating somehow, even with the AC blasting cold air.

"Wait-please…I need… more," she begs, her hips moving harder. It's the ultimate ego boost for you as you take your fingers out.

She whimpers, actually whimpers, and moves her hands down to pleasure herself with the absence of yours. You move your lips to kiss the inside of her thighs, just beside her dripping opening, drawing a long, breathy moan from her.

You kiss the other side, before finally settling in on her pink folds, watching how her body is writhing with pleasure. Her hands rub harder, just above her clitoral hood, and you watch how her pussy glistens in the light of the dorm.

"Spread further for me, Yoon-Ah," you say as you move in closer to her core. She obeys with little hesitation, mind too preoccupied by the want — no, the need to feel good. Her legs part slowly, exposing even more of herself to you, and you nearly break right then and there.

You decide to reward her, pressing a soft kiss against her pussy, the musky, honey-like scent almost overrides your brain. She breathes heavily, tilting her head back further as she pulls her hand away. Your hand moves to grab the back of her thighs, allowing you to pull your tongue even deeper into her slit as you take a longer lick, tasting the sweetness directly from the source.

"Oh, fuck. Don't stop, please, don’t you ever stop," her voice shakes, trembling with pleasure.

Hearing her in this state only spurs you on even further. You focus on her clit as you mix kisses in with darts of your tongue, circling it with dedication.

You take in the whispers and moans, the ohmygods.They fuel your desire to continue, to make her feel even better, to make her come.

Your tongue flicks across her clit, and you involve your hand in, rubbing the nub just above where your tongue was working. It seems to work wonders as she starts gushing, her slick juices coating your mouth and chin.

"Don't stop, please, god… I’m so close…" she sighs, as if her brain had completely given up on trying to overcome the pleasure. Her body jerks every time your tongue tastes her clit, her body quivers with every rub of your fingers.

"That's it, Yoon-Ah. Just come for me," you murmur against her pussy. She tries to use her hands to bring herself closer to orgasm, the left one pulling you in closer by your hair, the right one rubbing her nipples, stimulating herself further.

With every lick across her folds, she grabs your hair tighter, pulling your head even closer. Her breathlessness and occasional low groan only make your cock throb in pain against your boxers even more.

"Wait… please, I'm almost there, fuck," she bites her lips, hard enough to draw blood, hands travelling all over your hair. You start rubbing the area just above her pussy harder, tasting her folds with renewed vigour, set on making her come.

"Oh, that’s it — oh fuck!" Her legs wrap around you, her thighs clamping around your head as she comes undone. She comes gushing like a waterfall as she tugs on your hair even harder, almost hard enough to pluck it out.

You taste her slick goodness, a mixture of sweet honey and tanginess. "Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to pull that hard," she says in between gasps, body still shuddering. "God, that was… Jiwoo definitely didn't make me cum like that."

You chuckle, "I'm not that experienced either, but I'm glad to be of service."

She lets out an airy laugh, still trying to catch her breath. "It's my turn now, right?"

You glance at her in careful anticipation, "You don't have to if you don’t feel like it."

She shakes her head with a grin on her face, "How could I not after you made me cum like that? We're not done with our improvisation yet, anyway."

You exhale audibly, your cock growing harder against the waistband of your boxers in excitement.

She notices the growing bulge in your pants before palming your member, her soft touch eliciting a low groan from you as your body shudders.

She pushes you back lightly, allowing you to rest your head on the couch, before pulling your shorts down and taking your cock out.

It throbs in reaction to hitting the cold air, before her warm, dainty fingers wrap around it. It jerks involuntarily against her hands, and she giggles.

"He's excited, isn’t he?" She teasingly rubs the tip, her fingers stroking the cock head, before pressing a kiss on it.

The irony of the complete 180 from before, when she was surrendered to your touch, isn't lost on you as she now completely took control over your pleasure.

You let out a low growl, "You fucking tease."

She smiles up at you, a sly look etched on her face, highlighted by the rectangular frames of her glasses. "Consider it payback for that Jiwoo comment just now."

Then, she takes you in her mouth, and it’s just pure heaven.

For someone's first time giving a blowjob, she almost seemed like an expert. Her cheeks hollow as she takes you deeper, almost reaching the base of your cock, occasionally taking you out of her mouth and pressing wet, sloppy kisses along the slide of your shaft.

It's too overwhelming, seeing her head bob up and down, working on your cock. You lie on the couch with one hand resting beneath your head, the other pushing her head further down your shaft.

"Fuck, you’re sure this is your first time?" Your voice drops low, almost like a growl, as you take in all the pleasure. She doesn’t respond; instead, she focuses solely on sucking your cock.

And whenever she pulls back up for air, a trail of spit follows her mouth. Then she licks your tip, tasting it like a lollipop, and when her eyes make contact with yours, that innocent, pouty look etched across her face, you almost come right there and then.

"Fuck, I’m so close, Yoon-Ah. Don’t stop, keep going for me, baby. You’re sucking my cock so good."

She seems to relish your praise as she starts to work the underside of your shaft with her tongue, whilst throating almost your entire length at the same time.

It doesn't take long before you feel like you’re about to burst, and you signal to Yoon-Ah, "Fucking hell, I’m gonna come..."

At that, she gets down from the couch, takes you out of her mouth and strokes you while on her knees. She slightly (adorably) tries to push up he breasts with her other arm.

It’s a sight to behold.

"Come all over me, I want it everywhere," she sticks her tongue out, eyes fluttering in anticipation.

Your cock twitches and jerks with her strokes, and that's when you know you’re about to burst.

"Ohh, fuck…"

Thick, heavy spurts shoot out from your cock, painting the frame of her glasses and her cheeks in white.

The next few spurts land on her breasts, coating her chest in thick globs. She spreads it all the way up to her collarbone and down to her stomach, her whole upper body now glistening in your sticky release, a sight that makes your cock twitch in her hands as she's still jerking you off.

The last few weak dribbles make their way down to her exposed mouth, and she tastes you with a few smacks of her lips.

You're left speechless at the sight of her, and she has the audacity to smile sheepishly back at you.

"Holy shit, that was —,"

The lock clicks.

You both freeze, unable to register what was going on. It’s not the soft kind of hesitation. It’s that primal, heart-stopping, full-body paralysis — the kind where your blood goes cold before your brain catches up.

Yoon-Ah comes to her senses first. "Fuck, is Jiwoo back early?"

You turn to look at her, genuinely horrified.

The door creaks open. A suitcase wheels across the threshold.

"...I'm back early!" Jiwoo calls cheerfully. "You guys will not believe what happened in Jeju—"

Her suitcase falls to the ground with a plop.

“Oh my god. Are you two—?”

END

Apologies, I meant to release this 3 days ago but it took a little longer than expected. The first few thousand words had already been written long ago; the smut was what I struggled with. The small details, as well, like figuring out the Korean university system, or how their national service worked. (I researched, and apparently it's the norm to enrol in university first before enlisting, and they don't even get to book out during NS. Weird huh, @sinswithpleasure @co-reborn).

I was also torn between making this a full-fledged fluff fic or smut fic, but in the end I decided to go for a build-up to light smut. It's not your typical "one-theme" one-shot, but there'll be more of those in future. This is just a fic that I really wanted to try writing and publishing.

I know there's an unsatisfying ending, but if you want a part 2 with Jiwoo, please vote above. Also, my smut writing needs work, that much I know. Hopefully, with my future stories exploring more themes and kinks, I'll be able to flesh it out more.

Anyways, feel free to leave a comment and ask about anything, that'd be greatly appreciated :)

Planted and spread by Moss 🌱

[leafostuff]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN PURPLE KISS IS GONNA DISBAND IN NOVEMBER?!?!!

[leafostuff]

Thats a very good draft

men will do anything except see a therapist @mintwithchoco

[leafostuff]

Not me realising only now that i posted it on Sieun's birthday lmaooooo, anyways happy birthday this adorable sunshine that at the same time is also omega hot wtf

Clean [Ft. StayC's Sieun]

Author's note: yeah i am BFH-ing again, that comeback she looks so hot adjjekekdkwhru,

I wonder how many BFH does it take for me to release my long fics, anyways have fun reading this quickie for my now ult bias

=================================

"How much time do we have?"

"20 minutes, this car wash is slow as shit, but they give results" you answer, looking around the restroom to confirm that you are indeed the only ones inside.

"good" a quick response, meanwhile her hands expertly rid you of your belt, jeans and boxers, leaving you naked from the waist down. "My ass will make you cum in two".

"In the ass today? Daring today are we?" a quick chuckle meanwhile sieun turns around, letting your cock find its favorite spot between her butt-cheeks as she lazily grinds her clothed hips onto you.

"yeah, daddy didnt fill me up in weeks because of his stupid exams, so i thought he could fill a new hole today for fun~" she casually says, as if you are in your shared bedroom and not fucking your girlfriend in a public restroom.

However instead of shame, its excitement that flows through both of your bodies so you can only smile when her hands go into the hem of her panties, slowly lowering them to reveal her bare ass to you while she looks at you with fire in her eyes, the type that without words screams at you 'fuck me rough'.

"I can't wait for you to split my ass open with that huge co-nghh" she cant finish her sentence before you push into her ass, leaving her moaning your name

"god you are so dirty when you are cockdrunk, aren't you?"

"its been so long... without daddy's cock, need it so ba-oh fuck" the first f-bomb is dropped rather quickly as she bites her lips, trying her best to quiet herself, but it doesn't help that you start moving your hips in synchronization to hers.

"And you would definitely get it" you respond, a devilsh smug on your face seeing sieun now closing her eyes, chasing the high of your pleasure, "you said your ass will make cum in two minutes, 30 seconds already passed and i'm not cumming yet".

"Maybe if daddy would bend me over, i could make him fill me already"

This little bitch.

Its a futile attempt to match her brattiness, but before you are able to get your hands on her back she detached her ass from your length, letting you feel a bit of a cold breeze

"not here though..." She says, her eyes turn away from you to now look at one of the stools, it tells you everything you need to know about how bad she wants it.

So without anything said Sieun takes your hand, guiding you into one of the stools, as you both get inside your hands fumble their way into locking yourself meanwhile your girlfriend doesn't waste a second with her hands going on each side of the toilet while her ass up in front of you.

"Im waiting~" Sieun taunts, looking behind to see your cock already twitching while she wiggles her ass dangerously close to your tip, like a matador calling its bull to charge, she cant wait any longer.

So you give in to her, pushing your length deep into her asshole, releasing a deep groan from the pleasure of how tight she feels.

"FUCK", "YES", "DADDY", "MORE" and other colourful pleads come from her lungs, with each pump she gets louder and louder, she doesn't care that someone would hear her screaming.

Meanwhile your pace gets messier, rougher, it doesn't ruin the experience though since the stool is filled with moans of pleasure, sounds of bodies slapping against each other, each piston of your length into Sieun casues shivers throughout your body until eventually you cant stop yourself from the feeling.

The feeling of her.

"Cum daddy"

This is the last words she needs to speak before all of the load you kept inside shoots toward her, the lower back, the peaks of her cheeks, the valley that's between them, the tight ass hole, all of it painted white and in reaction Sieun can only sigh in approval.

She is right about making you cum quickly, it doesn't take long for you to feel completely empty as after the last sprout of the white liquid you finally let your cock rest.

"Thats... How a girl should start her day, everyday" she says with a youthful laugh, quickly standing up from her previous posting she doesn't even look half-tired from the pounding you gave her.

"It sure is a start" you respond, it takes a couple of pants but eventually you also catch your breath,

"We're not finished yet, daddy" she says, catching you already unlocking the door, looking outside to see if someone was outside. You take a look back: Sieun's already on fours again, Ass raised once again, still messy from your cum.

"i hate being dirty, maybe you should call a cleaning service"

================================

Stream "I WANT IT" by StayC yall

[leafostuff]

So technically you can say:

PwP = Porn with Plot

PwoP = Porn without Plot

Maybe i am just overthinking it

I thought pwp was porn WITH plot?

Hell, it could be. Idk, I thought it was without. I used it with the intention of meaning porn without plot 😅

[leafostuff]

YOOOO

THIS WEEKEND.

Celebrate the 2-year anniversary. One weekend only.

If you know, tell your friends.

And if you don't, find a writer who knows what the heck this is and ask them for an invite.

Hope to see you there.

P.S. No fics currently in the works. Sorry.

[leafostuff]

Clean [Ft. StayC's Sieun]

Author's note: yeah i am BFH-ing again, that comeback she looks so hot adjjekekdkwhru,

I wonder how many BFH does it take for me to release my long fics, anyways have fun reading this quickie for my now ult bias

=================================

"How much time do we have?"

"20 minutes, this car wash is slow as shit, but they give results" you answer, looking around the restroom to confirm that you are indeed the only ones inside.

"good" a quick response, meanwhile her hands expertly rid you of your belt, jeans and boxers, leaving you naked from the waist down. "My ass will make you cum in two".

"In the ass today? Daring today are we?" a quick chuckle meanwhile sieun turns around, letting your cock find its favorite spot between her butt-cheeks as she lazily grinds her clothed hips onto you.

"yeah, daddy didnt fill me up in weeks because of his stupid exams, so i thought he could fill a new hole today for fun~" she casually says, as if you are in your shared bedroom and not fucking your girlfriend in a public restroom.

However instead of shame, its excitement that flows through both of your bodies so you can only smile when her hands go into the hem of her panties, slowly lowering them to reveal her bare ass to you while she looks at you with fire in her eyes, the type that without words screams at you 'fuck me rough'.

"I can't wait for you to split my ass open with that huge co-nghh" she cant finish her sentence before you push into her ass, leaving her moaning your name

"god you are so dirty when you are cockdrunk, aren't you?"

"its been so long... without daddy's cock, need it so ba-oh fuck" the first f-bomb is dropped rather quickly as she bites her lips, trying her best to quiet herself, but it doesn't help that you start moving your hips in synchronization to hers.

"And you would definitely get it" you respond, a devilsh smug on your face seeing sieun now closing her eyes, chasing the high of your pleasure, "you said your ass will make cum in two minutes, 30 seconds already passed and i'm not cumming yet".

"Maybe if daddy would bend me over, i could make him fill me already"

This little bitch.

Its a futile attempt to match her brattiness, but before you are able to get your hands on her back she detached her ass from your length, letting you feel a bit of a cold breeze

"not here though..." She says, her eyes turn away from you to now look at one of the stools, it tells you everything you need to know about how bad she wants it.

So without anything said Sieun takes your hand, guiding you into one of the stools, as you both get inside your hands fumble their way into locking yourself meanwhile your girlfriend doesn't waste a second with her hands going on each side of the toilet while her ass up in front of you.

"Im waiting~" Sieun taunts, looking behind to see your cock already twitching while she wiggles her ass dangerously close to your tip, like a matador calling its bull to charge, she cant wait any longer.

So you give in to her, pushing your length deep into her asshole, releasing a deep groan from the pleasure of how tight she feels.

"FUCK", "YES", "DADDY", "MORE" and other colourful pleads come from her lungs, with each pump she gets louder and louder, she doesn't care that someone would hear her screaming.

Meanwhile your pace gets messier, rougher, it doesn't ruin the experience though since the stool is filled with moans of pleasure, sounds of bodies slapping against each other, each piston of your length into Sieun casues shivers throughout your body until eventually you cant stop yourself from the feeling.

The feeling of her.

"Cum daddy"

This is the last words she needs to speak before all of the load you kept inside shoots toward her, the lower back, the peaks of her cheeks, the valley that's between them, the tight ass hole, all of it painted white and in reaction Sieun can only sigh in approval.

She is right about making you cum quickly, it doesn't take long for you to feel completely empty as after the last sprout of the white liquid you finally let your cock rest.

"Thats... How a girl should start her day, everyday" she says with a youthful laugh, quickly standing up from her previous posting she doesn't even look half-tired from the pounding you gave her.

"It sure is a start" you respond, it takes a couple of pants but eventually you also catch your breath,

"We're not finished yet, daddy" she says, catching you already unlocking the door, looking outside to see if someone was outside. You take a look back: Sieun's already on fours again, Ass raised once again, still messy from your cum.

"i hate being dirty, maybe you should call a cleaning service"

================================

Stream "I WANT IT" by StayC yall

[leafostuff]

Just now finished reading the two parts,

As much as taboo stories are usually an off subject for me, this was very well written and the end of the 2nd part was surprisingly adult when it comes to MC dealing with those needs in front of Irene, after all setting healthy boundaries is probably the most sexy thing someone can so

Cursed: Moving (2)

Male Reader x Irene (Red Velvet)

Tags: Smut, Taboo

Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist

.

Part 1

.

There was a lingering guilt you felt if you would describe it that way. There was a part of you that regretted what you did, while another part of you didn’t. It wasn’t the first time you went panty hunting for your sister-in-law’s underwear. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time you had a session like you did in the bathroom either.

Whenever you house sat for your brother and Joohyun, you always had your little fun. Going into their room and finding Joohyun’s drawer full of her panties. Like your little session in the bathroom, you’d pick your favorite one and go to town until you were satisfied. Not just physically but fantasizing as well.

The act itself wasn’t something you did all the time. It was something you did every once in a while. Something you kept in control and only let out once in a while like today.

“You okay?” You look at Joohyun, as she stares at you questionably.

“I’m fine.” You give her a smile as one of her eyebrows raised up.

“If the food isn’t good and you don’t want leftovers, please let me -” You cut your sister-in-law off.

“Your food is good. Really.” You grab more of the leftover meat and some of the side dishes that were laid out.

You quickly stuff them in your mouth. Frantically chewing and trying to swallow the food to make up for your lack of eating and distractions.

“I think you're too kind.” A smile forms on Joohyun’s face as she takes a sip of her water.

“Joohyun, really. Your food is always good. One of the best foods I always enjoy eating. Even if it’s left overs…” You pause midsentence remembering the one dish you didn’t like from your dear sister-in-law.

“Well, besides that one cucumber dish.” You get a chuckle out of your sister-in-law as she knows the dish you're talking about and your disdain for cucumber.

Sitting the cup of water down, Joohyun goes to the fridge. Opening it, she pulls something out of it. You don’t see what it is until she turns around showing you a case of six-pack beer she bought.

“You actually bought it?” A smile and small chuckle comes from you as she makes her way back to the dinner table.

Grabbing a can out of the box, she pops it open for you. Handing it to you before grabbing her own.

“Of course. I asked what you wanted to drink and you said beer so, why not? It is for my dear little brother-in-law anyways.” Her words and tone at the end get to you.

It makes you blush a bit as you can’t help but smile widely at her.

“Cheers.” Joohyun brings her can halfway towards you.

You meet her half way and tap her can. The two of you taking giant gulps of the cold beer before letting out in unison a satisfying ‘ah’. The synchronization gets the two of you laughing together. A moment that you take to heart and cherish.

.

.

You laid on the bed unable to sleep. Tonight’s dinner and events prior got you thinking and reminiscing about it. Food and drinks aside, the talks and catching up with your sister-in-law was something you loved. Sure you saw her around here and there but truly catching up with her and just having some alone with her was something you couldn’t ask more of.

The subtle filtering you had with her, mostly coming from you. The smiles and laughter was something you enjoyed the most throughout dinner. Hell, even helping her clean up was a joy to do. From washing dishes with her and sharing a few hip bumps once you got in each other’s way to a few playful splashes of the water.

It wasn’t all just about dinner though that kept you up. It was the little session you had earlier in the day as well. A few more drinks after cleaning up and Joohyun turned in for the night. The revelations of her taking a shower before going to bed was something that flicked a switch for you.

There was an urge to get a peek at her when she showered. A peek at the divine body you so horribly sought after. Watching her undress and then watching her wash herself as you secretly got off was something you thought of doing. However you didn’t do it. In your ‘buzzed’ state you still had some elegance of morals and allowed your sister-in-law to shower in private.

If there was anything you’d do. It would be to grab whatever panties she wore for the day and get off on it. Getting the nice fresh underwear she just peeled off from her body.

Making your move, you head towards the bath and laundry room. A flick of the lights and your eyes immediately dart towards the dirty laundry basket. You see the newly added clothes Joohyun threw in there.

Grabbing the clothes you had no interest in. You toss them aside one by one until you find what you’re looking for. Beneath the pile of clothes was the white-laced thong your dear sister-in-law wore for the day.

Instantly grabbing it, you take a huge whiff of its fresh aromatic scent. The smell drives you crazy, as you smell the mix of the still lingering laundry detergent and Joohyun’s womanhood. Unable to help yourself, you find the inside of the crotch area. Sticking your tongue out, you drag it across the area getting a taste of the bodily fluids your sister-in-law let out mixed in with the fabric.

You drop your shorts to the ground and start stroking yourself. Each intake and exhale of the panty gets you going as you get a full hard on. One last hit of the panty and you wrap it around your cock. Your rhythm picks up as you start your fantasy on what you would do to your sister-in-law.

As your imagination starts, you want more of the aromatic scent that has been the driving force for you. A look down at the dirty laundry basket and you want to fish out another pair of panties, but you don’t. Instead you settle for the simple white bra that Joohyun most likely wore and paired with the panties you were using. Grabbing it, you take the same hits as you did with the panties. Smelling it and basking in the areas where Joohyun’s most private and sensitive areas were.

The bra was what you needed to maximize your arousal. To help you bring yourself over the edge and have the best nut in a long time.

Letting out soft whispers of your sister-in-law’s name you eagerly continued your masturbation session. Each soft whisper of her name and stroke of your cock was the result of your fantasy about her. That is until…

“Oh!” You snap out of your fantasy and look at where the sound came from.

You see your sister-in-law at the wide open door. Wide-eyed and staring at your cock. You realize what she’s seeing in front of her. It wasn’t just your rock hard cock she saw but what was wrapped around it. The quick movements in her eyes showed how quickly she was putting everything together. Before you know it her eyes shot up and met yours. A shade of pink appeared on her face as she pressed her lips inside.

There’s an awkward, tense, and quiet atmosphere between the two of you. Your sister-in-law is the first to break her gaze on you, looking elsewhere. You keep your eyes trained on her. Unmoving in your position as to see what she had to say or do.

It seemed she was trying to find the right words for the situation but couldn’t. Each attempt from her only leads to her looking at you. In particular your cock. Still in hand, with her white panties still wrapped around it.

You know staying quiet and just staring at her wasn’t going to get anywhere. You make the attempt to explain what you were doing but instead Joohyun is the first.

“I should probably leave you alone… huh?” Her eyes quickly darted to meet yours before looking away and then back at your cock.

You couldn’t really help but stroke your cock a bit to keep it hard. You aren’t sure why but it was perhaps the situation. You being caught red-handed with your sister-in-law’s panties. You don’t say much besides your small shallow strokes to your cock and looking down in a sense of shame. Finally looking away from Joohyun.

“Um, if you want…” Joohyun let out a deep sigh. “You can use some of my cleaner underwear instead of the dirty ones…”

Joohyun’s words trail off as you look at her again. As usual she was the ever helpful sister-in-law you knew her to be.

“Again, I should probably leave you alone... Let you finish up.” Her eyes glue back on to your cock before a subtle bite of her bottom lip.

A quick glance at you and making eye contact with you. Joohyun gives you a shy smile and a nod before taking her leave. Just as your sister-in-law turns, you utter the only words you're able to during this whole time.

“Do I have to be alone?” Your sister-in-law stops in her tracks and doesn’t move a muscle.

“Do I have to be alone… Sis?” You repeat your words again as you slowly start masturbating again.

From behind Joohyun drops her head slightly. You know she’s debating on what to say to you and you're ready for it. You aren’t sure why you became all so confident and brave. Maybe it was you getting caught and you had nothing to lose now, or your dear cousin rubbing some of his rizz on you but you said what you said.

You didn’t want to be alone to masturbate and fantasize about Joohyun anymore. You wanted her here and now. Gone was the thought of any repercussions. The only thought that mattered was you being with your sister-in-law.

“Joohyun…” Your sister-in-law turns around.

She looks you straight in the eyes with her beautiful brown eyes. Closing them she shakes her head.

“We can’t. You know that.” Your sister-in-law doesn’t look at you.

“I know, it’s just…” You're careful with your words. “I don’t think I can just keep doing this.”

Your sister-in-law looks at your cock. Your hands are still clinching on to the panties wrapped around your cock. Her looks snap away from it as some signs of frustration and what to do show on her face.

“Joohyun…” She puts a hand up stopping you.

“You know we can’t do this…” You nod in agreement, waiting for her to continue on what she wanted to say. If she was going to deny you here and now, you’d take it and apologize to her. That is, if she’d take your apology at all.

“However…” Your sister-in-law lets out a sigh, as her word grabs your attention.

“I’ll help you…” The words you just heard are a delight to your ear, as your heart starts to race.

There is some shyness on your sister-in-law's face. The tint of pink she had earlier returned to her cheeks. You want to express your joy in finally having your sister-in-law but no words come from you. The only thing you can do is stroke your cock in preparation as your sister-in-law's gaze shifts towards it.

A deep sigh comes from her, as she collects herself. Staring at your cock knowing what she just offered, she looks at you straight in the eyes next.

“I said ‘I’ll help you’ but… I have some rules and things I want to make clear.” The statement kills you a bit but you were willing to listen to what she had to say.

A few slight nods from you and you agree to whatever rules your sister-in-law has to lay out.

“One, we aren’t having sex. I want to make that clear…” The words kill as you hear them. “I’ll help you using my hand.”

The revelations become clear as to how your sister-in-law was going to help you. It destroyed your expectations and what you thought you were going to get.

“Two, no touching.” Her arms cross themselves as a sign, showing that she was serious about you not touching her.

“Three, This is a one time thing. We won't ever speak of it again after it’s done. It’s a secret between me and you. Your brother cannot find out about this, understand?”

The rules were laid out and made clear. No sex, with your sister-in-law only jerking you off until you came. No touching her of any sorts. The little hand job she was going to give you was going to be a secret between you and her. No else could know, strictly your older brother.

“I understand.” Joohyun nods to your approval of her rules.

“Let’s do this then.”

Dropping to her knees in front of you, your sister-in-law finally comes into full view of your cock. A deep exhale comes from her as she collects herself. She examines your cock, looking closely at it. You couldn’t help yourself but twitch it for her, moving it up and down. The subtle twitch from your cock startles her a bit as she moves her face away from it. A glance up at you and she returns her attention to your cock. Grasping it by the panties still wrapped around your cock, she slowly starts jerking you off.

You let out a soft audible gasp to her touch. One that makes your sister-in-law glance up at you again. Her look almost kills you as it fulfills one of the many things you’ve fantasized about her. Her on her knees with your cock in her hand. Her glancing up at you and doing such a lewd act. A part of you still not believing this was real.

Back and forth Joohyun’s hand stroked your cock. Her gaze back and now fixated on your cock again. Her silk-white laced thong glided along with the motion of her hand. The pressure your sister-in-law applied to your cock was perfect. It wasn’t a death grip nor was it too light. As perfect as her handjob was though, you wanted something a bit more intimate and within the rules Joohyun laid out.

“Joohyun…” She looks up at you.

“Is it possible for you to take off the panties… I want to feel your hand.” Joohyun nods at your request and gives you an affiliative smile.

Unraveling the wrapped panties around your cock, she peels it off. Dropping it to the side, your sister-in-law grasps your cock again. You feel the soft-blissful touch of her palms once they make contact. Her delicate fingers wrapping themselves firmly on your erect cock. You can’t help but lean back on the bathroom counter as your sister-in-law continues jerking you off.

Her hand movement is fluid and graceful. You can’t help but shut your eyes for a bit to get the full feeling of your sister-in-law’s hands wrapped around your cock. Each time she moves up and down your length you feel yourself inch closer and closer towards the inevitable end. An ending you wish didn’t come at all.

“Is this okay?” You look down to see your sister-in-law's beautiful brown eyes stare right up at you.

“It’s perfect Joohyun, keep going.” She nods to your words of affirmation. Something she uses to speed up her handy work.

The switch up in speed tilts you over the edge just ever so slightly. Your head snapping back. It makes your cock twitch in Joohyun’s hand. One she responds back with more pace and eagerness to help make you cum.

“Let me know when you're going to cum okay?” You look back down and nod weakly to her.

Up and down her hand went on your length. The perfect grip around it, along with the perfect speed and stroking pattern. You start to feel your balls tingle as the head of your cock aches for you to release what you needed to.

Your breaths become short as a few gasps escape your lips. You grit your teeth together to hold out longer. To hold out and experience more of your sister-in-law’s touch, but you can’t. A soft grab and massage of your balls from her other hand and you were at your tipping point.

“I’m going to cum… I’m going to cum Joohyun!”

Scooting to the side, Joohyun continues her hand job on you. Her hand movement speeds up, as her other hand caresses and squeezes your balls more. A subtle brush of her thumb against the slit of your cock and you let loose everything you’ve been holding back.

Your head snaps back as spurts and spurts of your cum shoot out from you. Each shot falling to the bathroom floor or glazing your sister-in-law’s hand, as she continued to jerk you through your orgasm. Her milking you for all the cum you had.

As the last spurt of your cum flows out of you, you feel drained. Your head dropping down. A feeling that felt ten times more than what you felt earlier that day. You swore you even came more than you did the first time as well.

Having the strength to finally open your eyes, you see your sister-in-law still on her knees. Your cock still in her hand, slowly working your spent and sensitive cock. She eyes it diligently as you feel her pointer finger and thumb form a tight ring around your cock. You grit your teeth, as you feel her basically try to squeeze and ooze out whatever cum you still had left within you out.

A slow-pleasurable and agonizing-hard stroke of your cock, and you whatever cum that was still within you seeps out. Her thumb quickly rubs over the warm hot cum as she continues to eye your cock. Her, now gently caressing and stroking you until she looks up at you.

You briefly see something in her that you’ve never seen before. A look of lust mixed in with some internal desire she longed for. All that soon fades though as she looks away and gets up.

“I hope you don’t mind cleaning up…” You weakly shake your head, not minding one bit in cleaning up the mess you made. 

“Have a good night.”

With your cum still staining her hand, your sister-in-law takes her leave. Likely to clean up in the privacy of her own bathroom located within her and your brother’s bedroom.

.

.

.

A/N: Something to help hold you guys over till the next chapter or release.

-Closes Library Office-

[leafostuff]

Hi when will you release the Joy fic? Hoping it releases soon.

I will be honest: i really am not sure, like its something that will come out, but considering it would 100% be a longfic + life is kinda busy for me lately, it would take a while for it to come out

But it will, i promise to you that it will release... as soon as ellipus will let me connect to my account and let me continue writing, because not only the Joy fic is there, but there is also another fic i am working on there and if they end up both getting deleted motivation would hella go down for me akdhehwifyehyeykw

Anyways, Sieun

[leafostuff]

The Lee Chaeyoung'z crumbs

Stream Fromis_9 "Like you better" and StayC's "I want it"

[leafostuff]

Do you have plans to write for sieun again?

Your previous smut for her was so hot and you write for her so well so i was curious

Hi Leafo thanks for the kind words! Yes eventually, she's near the top-ish

[leafostuff]

A love letter to writers

Sometimes i wish i had the words to say what i really feel about the stories i love and how much i love them.

With writers like @prael @octoberautumnbox @kooyabooya, @ggidolsmuts, @0cta9on , @erospandemos, @midatwrtr, @usedpidemo, @thewritingrowlet, @thelibrarian69 and so, so, so many other writers who have amazing fics and stories on here, its always a joy to me to open up tumblr and read.

Thats not to say i dont have a couple of good fics myself (at least by what 2,250 people think of them) but for me, the worlds they manage to build and the stories they tell through their words are the ones i love reading about the most.

I am probably yapping about fanficion and smut (and fluff) way too much but I just want to say thank you.

thank you for telling stories that i (and many others) enjoy reading, for writing characters that we can all love from both storytelling wise and just beauty/horny wise.

Thank you for every single writer mentioned here and also many others that weren't mentioned else this post will be the length of my future upload.

Thank you and hope you are having a lovely day, for now have a pretty Seeun

[leafostuff]

The OV renaissance is here and its not stopping anytime soon (hopefully)

Amazing story

Pink

This took a while to finish, and went in a more unexpected direction writing style wise. Finally got something out for Liz too, thanks to her pink jacket last April. I do like how it turned out in the end, and yes, lots of commas, as usual. Back to TripleS!

4,431 words of Kim Jiwon, well, Liz. Enjoy!

University life is monotonous. Yes, even factoring in the fun parts of it, school festivals, long nights out, mountain escapes from Seoul, and the liberal entertainment of vice, never forget the alcohol. No romanticized edit can represent the boredom you feel on some nights, just reviewing, worse, reviewing a topic that's becoming a chore. Though admittedly, dating was the same, a coin toss of a casual relationship, if you can even describe it as that, or a probable, actual relationship. Hopefully, in a perfect world, though, you can have both.

Living alone amplified that boredom. After giving up and shutting my tablet, after two hours I just enunciated my first word: "Fuck." I had already resigned myself to the thought that tomorrow's quiz could be sacrificed. Then, after watching whatever performative rot and gibberish I could see on my phone's feed, I was just about to give it up and try playing a game, offline, of course, to cure boredom, not transform it into anger. Sigh. One more look. One notification. 

[Are you bored?] Jiwon asked. 

I replied, of course I was. It was just past 10, and I wasn't so full, but not too hungry. Typically, it's "break-cum-procrastination time," but now someone asked to crash in my place. I have been dating Jiwon for a bit now. She was adorable on many days, goofy, silly, and fun to be around. Visually striking too, I could go on about how tall she was, but she had dyed her hair pink recently. That made her easier to spot. 

I asked her, and she was just as bored. 

[You want me to come over?]

I shot up in my bed. This could mean anything. I replied that, of course, I did. 

Another notification, her name, next to "sent a photo," with a play button beside it. Touch.

It was a selfie. Jiwon had her glasses on, angling her hand high with the phone, but she had her pink jacket unzipped, but not open, and she was a brunette now. She wrote something on the lower left side, right below her tits, "I missed you somehow," with a kiss mark. Better than porn. It was an immediate yes from me. 

Another reply: [I'll get on the bus. You have beer there?]

I did, just six, the last six. I'm not much of a drinker, but Jiwon had an appetite for four. That was after we'd gotten used to each other, and it drove the conversations up and released her silly side, then turned it up to eleven. So it doesn't surprise me anymore.  Though, like we've done a few times now, whether it's after dates, even when it would've been wholesome during the daytime. It would end up, at her request, with her undergarments down to her ankles, bent over, pressed against the velvet IKEA couch she helped pick. This was going to be one of those nights again. 

Another photo, this time, she pulled her jacket to the side, it was the obvious sight—no shirt—just her cleavage. The shape of her tits tempted me, but I was an easy man when it came to her. I tried to find a more recent photo of myself and sent it. 

Another notification, it was a more wacky selfie, but she had opened what I sent. Jiwon was in the bus now, sitting in the back. I've seen her naked, but her teasing was always something. I remembered her photo and probably asked about the obvious.

[You really don't have a bra?]

[Nothing at all.]

She was just walking in here expecting to get a fucking. The thought of her just going out in public in her pink sweatsuit—such a loud color—while topless underneath, hoping to get her panties pulled down, and get fucked, already made my blood rush down. Though with eyes as big as hers, taking her missionary was always a treat. Yet, even while stressed out reviewing, I haven’t masturbated all day, so she was going to get more than one.

I did try to do something unnecessary. We never found it more annoying than having nothing to snack on after a session, though mostly, we just get delivery, then walk Jiwon back—though once she sucked me off in a shrub—to her dorm. I tried to intellectualize what was about to happen too; Maybe it was just about her time of the month? Maybe I played too much in our chats? Perhaps she found her fingers boring already. Anyway, she was on her way here, and my left hand was probably cheering for me; Finally, somebody else! It was about to roar its praises. 

[Can you pick me up? I don’t have a card, remember? ㅋㅋㅋ]

Oh, right. I thought it prudent to try not to make myself obvious. Maybe I should just throw a thick jacket on, too? Never mind. But anyway, just before I left my apartment, she did send a picture of herself, with a bag with what was probably some sort of bread or anything she could throw in my microwave. But food was the last thing on my mind. 

I wanted to make sure I wasn’t about to fuck on a fuller stomach, so I went into the staircase. Picking Jiwon up in the lobby of my dorm, I was glad that by then, the middle-aged man who often provided whatever semblance of security with a baton had gone up for his late dinner. From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t care much, though he has occasionally recognized Jiwon as she got off the lift—she was a dancer who never liked the stairs.

We got on the lift going to my floor. It was a more economical six-story apartment, a little dated, greyly brutalist, cheap, but not seedy. It was a slow lift so that we could get the usual pleasantries. Seeing our reflection on the elevator mirror, Jiwon grabbed my hand and put it around her waist. Glancing at the display, it says floor 3B, one more. I checked her word for myself and slid my hand up the back of her jacket. Nothing.

Ding! Jiwon just shot me a look before the doors slid open; she knew curiosity would get the better of me. 

We were greeted by an empty hallway, knowing what was about to happen once I shut the door, I just kept in mind that the walls were pretty thick as I put my passcode in and pushed the handle down. Entering, I didn’t turn the AC off, just down a bit, and hearing the electronic lock, I thought of turning it colder. Then I felt a hand grab me and turn me around. So eager.

Jiwon tried to grab my face and kiss me, but I was able to push her gently to the wall and close the gap first. It wasn’t just a peck; a full-blown make-out erupted only a step from the door. Handsy as she was, I grabbed a handful of her ass and the soft flesh of her tit, squeezing ever so gently as I knew later won’t be so much. At this time, the light pink-haired girl whom people, strolling out and about, or on the city bus, had seen mere moments ago was now getting herself groped with her lips on the offensive. Her breathing was getting heavy only a minute in, but she didn’t come here for a kiss and a hug, no? 

Pulling my lips away, I suggested the couch, and in a pause, found ourselves in front of it. As a homebody Jiwon was, she lay down on the armrest, with me having only my knees and an arm to keep me from falling onto her while we continued where we left off. Waiting on me to do something, I looked for the hem of her pants with my fingertips and got it right on the first try, grabbing her ass with my left hand and squeezing much harder than earlier. Her lips on mine, both my hands in her pants, I thought I needed to do some “magic,” well, some sort of it. My fingers had to get this maneuver right. 

Press one finger, press two fingers. For prudence, she did have her panties on. We already had our tongues against one another, so I kissed her deeper. Jiwon moans; perfect. Her half-lidded eyes were wide open while I pulled away.

“You want to eat me out?”

I think I smirked. A bad impression of it, perhaps. Jiwon giggled as I knelt, pulled everything off her leg, and slid my hands back up. A tall girl, she always stood out from many, so don’t let Insta fool you, that also made her legs easier to fold back by the knee as I pulled away from her. She giggled and was expecting it, knowing that I always liked eating her out, and had readied and cleaned herself before she even told me. 

Jiwon knew that teasing me was enough of an excuse to get herself into my room. 

I got a whiff of her flowery scent, but wanted a taste of it. So I gave her thigh a peck, it was soft, so I put another on the other side. It only took a few kisses before there was a hickey on her left thigh, close to where I intended to land my tongue next. One flick right on her clit made it clear to her, hearing a huff leave her mouth. Sliding my tongue up the sides, and like most food, it tasted rather salty. Though quickly, I just paid attention to her pussy, with her letting out a soft moan as she held her breath, and when my tongue finished drawing, to a barely suppressed cry when I sucked on her clit. I was relentless, and that made her even louder, only shutting herself up when she covered her mouth and weakly tried to push me away. As always, it was a weak ruse. 

“You okay?” I asked Jiwon. Our stares met with a nod from her. So I continued, lick after lick, but making sure I sucked on her clit to make it matter. Wasn’t an hour of eating her out last week enough? Guess not. From holding her breath, she had shut her eyes, with her brows furrowed, arching her back a bit, exposing just enough of her skin through her jacket, with her zipper down but not yet removed. 

Slowly, I got a hold of her thighs while I continued to eat her out. It was more of a measure if she tried to lock her legs with my head in between. Between tracing circles over her clit and the occasional suckling that caused her to yelp and moan, I was more and more being greeted with the slow, telltale drip that came with my effort. Then maybe that was my signal flare to stick my finger in, I teased by sliding and poking it, just the tip, before looking up at the trapped lady on my couch. 

Jiwon had her eyes shut as her chest rose and fell, so I wasn’t about to ask. But she had that certain glow that only arousal can bring about. Even as I had dimmed the lights, just reading her face, she wanted to feel that release. She was close, and it was going to be a loud one.

She was holding her breath more now, though moaning more, arching her back and seizing up, getting wetter as her fingers grabbed onto my scalp. Closer now, so another finger in, careful, I shouldn’t be too hasty, rush, and lose the rhythm. I just knew to keep pressing where I got the loudest moans, and suck at her clit that became all the more swollen. The small, pink bulb was exposed and had nothing to hide from this tongue.

I kept pressing at Jiwon’s spot, aware that her juices would leave a stain on the couch as it dripped down my knuckle, hence the weighted blanket she lay on top of. Now, when she was close to cumming, her legs always began to close in around me, and her arms, long as they were, couldn’t push me. They often would do the opposite, and try to pull me further into her. All I could do was oblige, holding out just a little more before the inevitable came knocking. That telltale sign of a rightfully contorted face as that final bated breath left, her weight sinking and back arching as the long moans began. Her hand grabbed onto the couch as her folds tightened around my two fingers. I kept licking, and her other hand tightened around my hair, pushing me in, as she was at the peak of her orgasm now, feeling her drip to my wrist as she slowly began to come down from it.

For the first time in a while, we were able to talk. Catching her breath, a smile came from her as she patted me on the cheek. I commanded. 

“Turn around.”

Jiwon was quite slow in turning herself over, but soon I was able to undo my shorts and put them on the floor. Yet as I readied myself to fuck her, she called my attention, and the next moment, stood right before her mouth as she laid on all fours. She just looked up at me, craning her neck forward as she stuck her tongue out and took my half-hard cock in her mouth, fingers and lips wrapping quickly over the shaft. She looked up and gave five slow bobs, without breaking eye contact, before she shut them and suddenly sped up as she gave me a quick blow, uncaring if I was twitching. Still, she knew when to stop, even when it's been a while. When her lips popped, it only looked like she put on lipstick—using my cock—and it was all ready to go.

So I finally got behind her, and with Jiwon's eyes beckoning me as she shook her butt a little. I do not think of her as one, but she sure likes to act like a whore for me sometimes. So I gave in. Slightly pushing herself back while sliding my cock between her ass, teasing entry between her folds with a loud spank. Then, I slipped in. A whimper left her, and I pushed forward, my cock disappearing between her ass with the tip causing her to flinch a bit, a long exhale then a slap on her ass as I pushed my entire length inside, the tall brunette automatically snapping into that perfect, roaring in a mix of pain and pleasure as it filled her. 

Make no mistake, she always wanted to take it. 

A hand on her hip, another on her asscheek, and I started. No slow start, those few thrusts to make sure that tight fit didn't make me finish so quickly. The quick blowjob already made sure of it. There was no love for now, only lust. I started ramping up to fuck her, as per her request. Pulling my whole length out and back in, lurching her forward as my pace started to reach a tempo. Yet amongst the slapping that started, and the chorus she began to sing, we were enjoying ourselves. Finally, having an outlet for a long week that no amount of bad habits can satisfy.

Faster now, much wetter than a minute ago. Watching Jiwon’s whole body put us in lewd perpetual motion, the recoil from her ass bouncing back at me, one leg up so I can go deeper as it was met by my loins slapping against hers. It was not long before her breaths were getting shorter and feel her wrapping around my cock, only causing me to fuck her harder. I slipped out. I wanted to try something new, so I put both my feet on the couch, much like a squat, and slipped inside her again. She felt tighter this time, with my cock quickly angling downward. This caused a long groan, then a yelp as she turned her head at me, her eyes awash with pleasure as her mouth hung open. I leaned in for a kiss without breaking tempo. Though with how hard I was and my legs already burning quite a bit, I thought it prudent to throttle back and talk for a bit, finally granting myself the satisfaction of trying a position I saw some time ago. 3-2-1, noise.

I leaned in, able to put my legs down but still deep inside Jiwon, my thrusts now at a shallower tempo. I could appreciate her folds now, thinking of myself as so lucky as her lips came onto mine. I was lost staring into her big eyes when I realized, as a single twitch almost washed us over—she was fucking herself on me—but careful to match my tempo and not preempt the inevitable.

“You’re close again?” I asked. Jiwon just nodded and replied, “Maybe you should’ve asked that earlier.”

We continued in that way for a bit, a slow, gentler interlude to the fucking she asked for. Just giving myself enough time for that tightening feeling in my gut to leave me, but I couldn’t just waste the depth I was in. Yet Jiwon was already making use of it for herself. Spank! Her back arched so I might just hit her spot, her shallow, squelchy, but undeniably needy, hops making me shut my eyes as I tried to not cum before she did. Distracting myself with her lips as she made out with me, but amidst the strong stares, flicking of tongues, and slobbering of lips, she begged for me to cum in her if I wanted to. Often, I was tongue-tied when I was close, so I tried to talk. 

“How about you first?” 

She just smirked. Jiwon smirked. It was a signal for me to do something, and I wasn’t having any of it anymore.

Grabbing her by the elbow, I pulled Jiwon up. Such an angle was just right up her spot as I took back control and jammed my hips forward, the same hand I used to pull her to me was now wrapped around her neck. She looked back with an approving smile before the second one caused her to break, making her shut her eyes and bow her head. By the third one, she was a moaning mess again. I kept to the same tempo, deep but shallow, making her feel the entirety of my length as I hit her spot again and again, all while watching her ass bounce for me. Spank! Her moans began to rise again, having done her share of the work, while I fucked her to the end of it. 

She was often at her wettest when she was close, and I couldn’t guarantee I won’t follow her this time. It was delirium from her, telling me to go harder as she shook, trying to prolong the moment before orgasm that she craved so much. Yet, I followed orders, her orders, and as her back further arched, fingers gripping where she could onto me, she came—suddenly seizing up, throwing her head back and letting out a cry of exasperation as her inside squeezed my shaft. Fuck! I tried to think of anything else to distract me from following her. At her tightest, I didn’t stop moving, slow and deliberate. How counterintuitive! But she needed to ride it through, shaking, and catching her breath, her tune changing into low, weak moans as she came down. 

Pulling out, I wondered how I didn’t follow so soon as I plopped down on the couch. Just looking at Jiwon's dripping pussy, watching as it dripped down her leg, her left ass cheek somewhat red from the few hard spanks I gave her. She was face down, ass up, though maybe she’ll have her chance to see just how long I could hold. Yet I was also asking myself: Could she still ride me?

I didn’t think of what to do next. Jiwon could always do that later; it was my turn to tire now. I acted instinctively, standing before her as she lay on her back. She could only look on in shock as I grabbed her by the leg and flipped over, almost wrapping her in the towel. 

“Wait!” Jiwon yelled. 

Then, for a second, the girl I fell in love with leaned up to kiss me, deep, but it told me something. When I opened my eyes, a tit was peeking out of her jacket, grabbing it as I gave her another peck on the lips, before moving down and sucking hungrily on her nipple. She teased me for it, as always. Having her lie down, I grabbed her legs—long as they were—that I needed to angle them a bit sideways. She laid under me, full view, big eyes, round face, a slightly sweaty, long torso, and a pussy to penetrate. Her smile almost took me out of it. 

I didn’t need a guide as I pushed myself back inside Jiwon again, watching her features curl up into a grimace as she placed her head on the armrest. Her legs closed together made her feel tighter, something we discovered a while back, but had never tried with her this wet. It did allow me to do one thing; push my entire cock in. I did, and Jiwon stopped me once, then told me to continue again. 

A few deep thrusts in, just as I was beginning to fall into her siren song, listening to her moans like the way she would kill at noraebang, I almost lost track of the fact that this was supposed to be just a quickie. I then felt that familiar weight in my gut, but this time, it felt like a necessary end, having done what I had wanted. I looked down, watching her hair splayed out and down over the armrest, much messier than when she came, her expression perfectly lewd as usual. All this as my hips slammed into her, length disappearing into her pinkish folds, the recoil continuing us on. Only then could I make out a word that snapped me out of her trance. 

“Cumming!” Who? Her? 

I looked down as Jiwon's pussy contracted around my shaft. I could take it once, but I lost my grip on her legs when it happened another time, not when I was so close, almost falling mid-thrust as they opened headfirst onto her. She just smiled at me as I caught myself. Her arms embraced me and pulled me into her lips as I continued, needing to make up for my lapse. Oh, right, I needed to fuck her. 

My hips began to move again, and leaning over Jiwon a bit, we both knew the jig was almost up. If she goes this time, I'll go too. I watched her eyes dart and saw how I was railing her on the couch. Slowly, her eyes looked back up and found where the sweat had been pooling on my thin shirt, finally managing to focus on me. She knew I missed her well enough—both in idea and as flesh—to give it everything I've got in the first round. I didn't even ask, and she already answered.

"Cum in me."

I slowed down a bit—a mere feint, more so a pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable. Any longer I try, Jiwon might just tell me to stop. Too fast, and she might hit me for going too hard. I needed to time and not to lose the intensity of the moment. Putting our lips together and going deep, both savoring the feeling of leading and following her into the orgasm I owed. Her moans quickly rose in volume with her embrace pulling me tighter, even talking like a pornstar at one point. She knew she did it—and liked doing it—even if my best reply was just a strained "uh-huh". Though too many times before I already told her just how tight she was, if I did, I would cackle at how porno-like it would be saying it in such a tired state. We shared one last look before she mouthed the exact words again as she pulled me in.

Thud! Jiwon let out a squeal while our lips were together. I felt her arch her back as she tightened, with me halfway out as I felt myself follow. Grunting as I unloaded deep into her, as she wanted, being in the middle of orgasm only made us cum both so much harder. Slowing down as we turn into moaning, devolved messes. The sensitivity of it all was a high we chased and came to, and only shared between us. We have given in to our base instinct; this was the outcome. 

I just hovered over as I caught my breath. Jiwon’s lips were much redder now, another kiss, after which she scrunched her nose and said something that made me giggle too. Slowly, I pulled back and sat down, seeing the wet spot on the towel, which only confirmed why it had been so easy to do something that tight. Though I was just shocked at how much I let out when my load started dripping out the moment I pulled back. As she sat up, she told me not to worry about it before heading to the shower.

I just watched as she closed the door to the shower. Grabbing my phone, I thought about her earlier message. So much for that pink jacket; it was nice on her, and I need to throw it in the laundry. We were both sweaty messes, and I did not want it on such new furniture. 

It took thirty minutes, and then a different scene was on the couch. Jiwon and I were huddled in front of it with chopsticks on a bucket of fried chicken. There was never a dull moment with Jiwon. We were more laid back now, in new clothes, though I had to rummage from the pile she would always leave when she came over. The oversized tee she was wearing made clear she had no bra on, maybe it was intentional, or it was just cold. I think we were supposed to do round two. I’m not so sure about that now. I just needed to say something obvious to break my observation. 

“Really, dipping that much sauce with no bra?” 

“You’ve seen me naked, don’t sound surprised now.”

“Fair.” 

“And you’ll see more later too.”

[leafostuff]

It was an honour beta reading this amazing piece, from start to end everything felt in place and in theme for the setting (which is quite rare to see)

See you next summer king

A New Beginning

NMIXX Sullyoon x Male Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst & Smut | Word count: 14k | Tags: Maid, Headpats, Virgin, Blowjob, Missionary, Creampie

Synopsis: You receive a former slave as a gift. What follows is a journey of healing with your new maid.

Warning: Mentions of past bodily harm and psychological distress.

Credits

I. The arrival

It was common knowledge that a 19th-century man in possession of a successful company and a rich heritage was to own a maid. His being didn’t belong in a kitchen; his time wasn’t to be wasted doing laundry. Yet you had little regard for such traditions. Your kin speculated—stinginess, secrets, perhaps a scandal—but the truth was far simpler: you didn’t need a reason. Self-reliance suited you. 

For two years, you’d lived alone in your estate nestled deep in the woods, not only tending to yourself but also hosting guests without assistance. To the surprise of many, the master poured the tea.

It was near dusk, late winter when a carriage crunched its way down the moss-softened path to your door. The horses snorted, breath misting in the cooling air. No grand stone steps. No footman. Only pine wind and silence.

You had just returned from the forest, mushrooms in your hand, sleeves rolled, your white shirt tucked sloppily into worn pants. Had you known visitors were arriving, perhaps you'd have worn one of the jackets your father gifted you long ago.

A knock. You opened the door. There stood a man in a heavy frock coat, posture straight, eyes familiar.

“John,” you exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve never forgotten, my Lord,” the gentleman said. “The help you gave me in the past… I remember you once said you weren’t in the possession of a servant.”

You nodded. “I still am not.”

“Good,” he replied with a faint smile. “Because I have one here with me. And I would like you to accept her as a gift.”

“You want to gift me… a slave?”

“Precisely.” From his pocket, he pulled a golden pin, the symbol of his new title. “I have been appointed royal couturier to the Duke’s daughter. And I owe it all to you—your introductions, your patronage, your faith in a man who once sold thread in the dirtiest corner of the city.”

“You flatter me,” you said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But it was your talent that took you to the palace.”

He inclined his head in gratitude, then stepped down and opened the carriage. A girl emerged. Barefoot. Wrapped in a threadbare blanket. Her eyes are wide and hollow. Her feet met moss rather than gravel, and her thin shoulders shivered in the cold.

“Please accept this slave, my Lord,” the man said. “I made sure to buy the most beautiful one in the county.”

“She is beautiful,” you acknowledged, “but where are her clothes?”

“She had a shirt and trousers when I bought her. I saw no reason to waste fine fabric on a slave.”

“You’re a dressmaker,” you said, your voice flat. “You should know better.”

He didn’t answer. The girl stared at the ground, her shackled ankles trembling. Her skin was marked with scars—especially her back—but her face had been kept untouched, carefully preserved like fine porcelain.

You sighed and opened the door wider. “Your gift is appreciated,” you said quietly. “I will take care of her.”

“The girl is yours now,” he said, bowing reverently. “Do as you please. My gratitude is eternal.”

The girl turned to you and bowed low. “Good evening, master. Thank you for taking me in. I promise I will be good to you.”

Realising you were still holding the mushrooms, you quickly set them aside and offered your hand. She looked at it, puzzled.

You smiled gently. “It’s a handshake.”

Hesitantly, she reached out and touched your hand, her fingers trembling uncomfortably. ��I’m sorry, master. Owners don’t usually greet us with such… respect.”

“That’s the bare minimum,” you said. “Come inside.”

She stepped in lightly, nearly silent. The warmth of the house—faint smoke, pressed leaves—hit her like a foreign scent. You closed the door behind her. There was little needed for a bolt and key. No one lived in these woods anyways.

She clutched a small satchel—too small for any valuable possession. Her clothes were thin and frayed. Her eyes flicked nervously across the room. No canes. No bells. No inked ledgers of punishment.

“You may speak freely here,” you said, like offering her a blanket.

“No need, master. I won’t be in any trouble. You won’t even see me.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She bowed her head. “I’ll do everything you want, whenever you want.”

You reached for a robe hanging near the door. As your hand passed near her head, she flinched—visibly, sharply. Years of training had taught her to stay still, but reflexes didn’t lie.

“Sorry. Did I touch you?”

“No, master. My fault. I’m sorry.”

You held the robe out. “Take this. You look cold.”

“Thank you very much, master. You’re… very kind.”

You inhaled deeply. “I’m not used to having… uhm… someone to look after me. I have no footman. No housekeeper. No cook. There’s little to do,” you said as you scratched your head. “Sorry about that.”

“I’ll make myself useful,” she said. There’s no reason to keep a maid if she’s not deemed useful. She had to find an occupation, or who knows where she might end up.

“I’m sure you will,” you replied gently. “But not tonight. You’ve traveled far.”

You led her down the hallway—not to the scullery, nor a cot in the corner of the kitchen—but to a guest room. A real bed. A folded quilt. A window without shutters.

She stood at the threshold, silent, unsure.

“This will be your room,” you announced. “It is a guest room but I never have guests over so it is a bit dusty. I apologize for that. However, the bed is quite comfy, I hope that makes up for it.” 

You paused for a moment and gestured for her to come in.

“Are you sure, master? A whole room for me?”

“Where else should you stay?” you asked. That statement alone sounded ridiculous to you. Of course, she needed a room. “Thank you very much. I’m forever grateful,” she said, bowing down in gratitude. 

You tried to imagine her previous owner. The aristocrats you have met at the “parties” always seemed to be polite, but they were never kind. Judging by her responses, she must have had a ruthless man. Maybe he let her sleep in a barn, maybe in the basement, or whatever space she found.

“You can rest,” you replied. “No work tonight.”

She nodded. She seemed surprised but grateful. You gave her a nod as well. “Make yourself comfortable,” you told her. 

Then, as you turned to climb the stairs, her voice halted you.

“Please don’t send me back,” she begged. Her voice was frail and trembled. 

You turned to meet her eyes—worn, weary, yet pleading—and your heart was torn to pieces. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said. You pondered on what could have comforted her but chose to leave it. Nothing could have given her security, only time.

When she was finally left alone, Sullyoon took the deepest breath of her life. She was almost afraid to let the air fill her lungs with the freedom you were letting her have. She wanted to believe you. She wanted to believe you were the gift that the sky had given her in exchange for her pains. For the first time in weeks, she let her satchel slip from her shoulder. It hit the floor with a soft thud. She sat down on the edge of the bed. 

And for once, she could breathe.

When she heard your footsteps leave the floor, she let herself go down on the bed. It was as if all the clouds in the sky had gathered under her back in a warm embrace. She hasn’t felt such softness since she was held in her mother’s arms. It was like a miracle. It must have been a dream. She had to wake up or she’d cry in the morning, again.

Her mother used to tell her that miracles always happened to good people. But she wasn’t a good person, was she? She always got things wrong, and her masters always beat her up for it. Surely, she was a bad person; otherwise, they’d never beat her, right?

While you left the girl in her room, you made your way back into the garden. You wanted to take a look at the sky before doing anything else. However, you were greeted at the sight of the gentleman again.

“You’re still here, John?” you asked.

“My lord, sorry, I’m packing up in preparation,” he said. “I’ll leave immediately.”

“No, no, that is not what I meant,” you corrected yourself. “Do you want to come in? I have some food and drinks inside. You have traveled a lot after all.”

“I wish I could, my lord but I’m in quite a hurry,” he said. “I stopped by your mansion because it was on the path but I have to go to the next kingdom as soon as possible.”

“In that case,” you said. “Wait a moment, please.”

You ran inside and took out the pie and cookies you had prepared the other day, and a bottle of beer and wrapped them in a cloth. You went back outside and gave it to John. He looked surprised at first but then smiled widely.

“Please accept this, it will accompany you on your journey.”

“Oh, my lord, you’re too kind, like you have always been. Thank you.” John accepted your gift with jittery hands and quickly stuffed it in his leather bag.

“That said,” you started, brushing your hands. “Do you have like a… dress? For a servant?”

“For the slave?” he said.

“Well, yeah, the girl.”

“I do have some simple shirts here… I think she might fit in them,” he said taking something out from his carriage. “There’s always somebody who might want to buy them so I always carry them with me… here it is.” He took out a gown, a corset, and some shoes.

“Well that should be fine, I guess.”

“Oh, I have a cap as well.”

“That’s perfect,” you said and got your purse. “I think this should do.”

“Oh, no, please, my lord,” he exclaimed. “I will not let you pay. This is a gift. You have done enough for me, so many investments, it would be an insult to make you pay. Please take it.”

“Very well. They have a good trip, John.”

“Thank you very much, till the next time.” 

John departed. You only had a few memories about the gentleman and had to shake your memories to jot back up the other ones. Nothing seemed to have changed. He was still the same joyful, quirky man that you had met years ago. Still working hard, relentlessly.

You ran back up. The girl heard your heels clacking on the hardwood. She immediately stood up, put her satchel in a more presentable position, and awaited you in front of her room. A maid wasn’t allowed to laze around. 

Reaching her room, you were puzzled by her strange behavior. She was upright against the wall, staring blankly at the wall.

“Hey, so I got you some new clothes,” you said and gave them to her. 

Her eyes moved down to the white cloth in your hands. She nodded and looked at you, waiting for an order. Then she looked at them again, realizing they actually were for her.

Her eyes widened, shimmering with disbelief as she stared at the neatly folded clothes in your hands. For a moment, she didn’t move; she just stood there, frozen, as if the world had briefly stopped turning. Her lips parted slightly, trembling with words she couldn’t quite form. Then, almost shyly, her hands reached out, hesitant, as though she feared the kindness might vanish if she touched it. A soft gasp escaped her, and her voice, barely more than a whisper, carried both awe and quiet gratitude:

“F-For me? I… I’ve never…”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and a gentle, almost disbelieving smile slowly bloomed. “Thank you very much, master.” 

When she finally took them, she held them against her chest—not protectively, but tenderly, like they were something precious.

“Anyways, I have a bath down the hall. You can go there and wash up.” 

Her disbelief continued but you quickly left before she could question the words that had entered her ears.

The girl took everything in her hands and went in the direction you pointed. She was overwhelmed by your kindness, which she had never received, for most of her life.

Steam fogged the mirror and curled up from the copper tub in slow, visible breaths. A folded cloth lay beside it—clean, soft, white—and a bar of soap that smelled faintly of lavender. There was no bark in the water, no sting of lye, no frozen bite. Only quiet warmth.

She didn’t move at first. Her hands trembled in her lap, curled inward like they might claw back the memory of cold stone floors and cracked nails.

In the last house, water was punishment. Poured cold in the early dark, scrubbed in silence until her skin burned and bled, always watched. There had been no privacy. No soap unless she stole it. She learned not to feel.

“Take your time,” you said, your voice so mild it made her flinch. You kept a stove in the bathroom as well, since you didn’t want to go back and forth to the kitchen. Luckily for both of her, it was that time of the day when you washed up, so there was already boiling water on the stove. You mixed it with lukewarm water in the basin so she wouldn’t burn.

You didn’t stay, you left her alone to herself after showing her everything she needed in the bathroom and closed the door behind you.

She rose slowly. Her fingers hovered over the basin. Then she touched it.

Warm.

Real.

A sound left her—half gasp, half laugh, the kind no one taught her to make. She pulled her hands back as if she’d done something wrong. Waited. No door opened. No voice shouted. The warmth clung to her fingers.

She dipped them again, then her wrists, then leaned forward and buried her face in her wet palms. And there, in the small wooden room, alone for the first time in what felt like years, she cried—not from pain, but from the terrifying unfamiliarity of comfort.

When she finally undressed and stepped into the bath, she did it slowly, reverently. As though the water might vanish if she moved too quickly. She washed herself in silence, not knowing where to begin or how she were a person who deserved this.

But when she emerged, her skin flushed pink and her hair smelling of herbs, she stood a little straighter. Just a little.

When she was done, she went out to the hallway with her old clothes in her hands and simply stood there. She didn’t know what to do. No order, no task to complete, no other maid to tend to. Hearing your rustling in the other room, she figured she might have to ask you.

She stood in the doorway like a shadow that hadn’t decided whether to enter.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting amber light across the wooden floor. The stew simmered on the table, thick with root vegetables and herbs—its scent rich and foreign. You had set two bowls and two spoons. Her hands twisted into her skirts.

She stood in front of you, bathed in the soft light from the hallway, the simple white clothes draping gently over her frame. They weren't extravagant, just clean, fresh, and unmistakably hers now. The white gave her a new innocence, instead of the torn grey drapes that she was wearing when you first met her.

Her eyes met yours, uncertain but open, searching for a sign—approval, maybe.

“It looks really good on you,” you said with a warm smile. Her cheeks blushed.

“Thank you really much.”

“It seems to be a bit big though. Well, it wasn’t really tailored for you.”

“No, it’s perfectly fine, master.”

“Come here, I’ll be ready in a second,” you said, turning back to the pot to taste the stew you had just finished cooking. She didn’t move. Perhaps she didn’t realize you were talking about dinner—her dinner. She was used to stale bread, scraps, and whatever was left behind. 

So she stood there silently, unsure, confused. She didn’t ask—afraid that it could have irritated you.

The firelight flickered low in the modest kitchen, casting long shadows that danced across the dark wooden walls. She stood near the worn wooden table, hands folded tightly before her, eyes fixed on the scuffed floorboards. You watched her quietly from the doorway.

Finally, you spoke, low and gentle, careful not to startle. “May I ask your name?”

There was a question in her eyes, unspoken but impossible to miss. “Why?”

You stepped forward, slowly, making no move to close the distance too quickly. “If you prefer, I don’t have to call you anything at all. But I would like to. It makes things easier… for me.” 

The smallest tremor shook her frame. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Sullyoon.”

You nodded once, “Sullyoon. I’m glad to know it.”

For the first time since she arrived, she lifted her gaze to meet yours. “You can sit,” you said gently, motioning to the chair in front of you.

She didn’t move.

“It's for you,” you added, pointing at the plate on the table. “It’ll go cold.”

She stepped forward like someone crossing into sacred ground. Her fingers grazed the back of the chair before she dared to pull it out. The legs scraped faintly on the floor, and she winced at the sound.

You served her a ladleful first, then yourself.

Steam coiled up from the bowl—thick, fragrant, unfamiliar. She stared into it like it might be a trick or a test. Then she looked at you, and there was something close to pleading in her voice when she whispered: “I don’t… I don’t know what it is.”

“Just stew,” you said, not looking at her too hard. “Carrots, turnip, a bit of venison. Nothing special.”

She wrapped her fingers around the bowl, just to feel the heat. Her eyes went glassy. Her hands didn’t shake—but only because she was holding herself so tightly together, she had no spare strength left to tremble.

You took a bite, casually, so she’d know it was safe. Only then did she lift the spoon. Clumsily. The first mouthful nearly made her choke. Not because it was too hot, or too strange—but because she had never tasted anything like it. You stared at her, looking at her weird gestures.

She chewed slowly and swallowed slower. Her shoulders stiffened like she expected to be struck by the sound. Then, after the second bite, her eyes welled. She set the spoon down. Not roughly. Reverently.

“I don’t deserve this,” she said in a voice that cracked. Her shoulders shrank.

You didn’t reach for her; she might have flinched like before. Didn’t correct her. You only replied, soft and without ceremony: “You deserve it. You deserve to be fed, everyone does.”

Silence stretched for a long moment, broken only by the quiet clink of  your spoon against the bowl. Then, slowly, she picked up her spoon again. Her mouth moved—almost imperceptibly—into a shape that might one day become a smile.

You continued to eat quietly. She didn’t say anything nor lift her eyes.

II. First days

The first time you saw her washing linen at the stone basin, the sun had not yet reached your windows. You had woken out of habit—there was something about the air just before sunrise that always pulled you from sleep. Outside, the forest was slowly earning the name of the morning. Mist curled along the ground, brushing against the cottage walls, and the trees murmured with the soft voices of waking birds.

She was already working. Of course she was.

She looked small and rigid. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, half hidden beneath a plain brown dress that hung too loosely on her frame. She stood at the basin carved into the back wall of the house, scrubbing shirts in icy water with quick, almost angry strokes. Her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, her forearms red from the cold.

You didn’t intend to sneak up on her—but you moved quietly by habit. Insects don’t care for boots or sudden motion. You stopped under the old oak in the garden, arms full of pressed ferns wrapped in muslin. You were supposed to bring them inside, but something about the steady rhythm of the fabric against the stone held you in place.

She didn’t react to your presence. Either she hadn’t heard you—or, more likely, she had and chose not to respond. Servants were taught not to acknowledge presence unless spoken to.

You cleared your throat.

Her hands froze, suddenly and sharply. The linen twisted in her grip. Her shoulders tensed as if bracing for instruction—or something worse. Then she turned. Her eyes were wide and unsure.

“Good morning, master,” she said softly and dipped her head in a small bow.

“Good morning, Sullyoon,” you said. “Uh… you may use warm water. If it helps.”

Her voice was quiet, rough from disuse. “Thank you.”

That simple word made something tighten in your chest.

A few silent seconds passed. She resumed scrubbing—not with less effort, but with less violence.

You turned toward the moss patch beneath the elm, kneeling to unwrap your bundle. The maidenhair fern curled like a sleeping creature, damp with morning air. You dipped your pen into ink and began to sketch it in your notebook, trying not to glance too often at her hands.

You both continued your work, side by side in silence. You found yourself curious about her. You hoped she didn’t mind you sitting nearby. You hoped she didn’t think you were strange for that. But she showed no reaction—not a single flicker of thought. You weren’t exactly worried… but it wasn’t a good sign either.

It felt like trying to speak to a wall.

You went on with your day in complete silence. Sullyoon minded her own business. Somehow, she always found something to do. 

In the afternoon, you went back to your studio to complete your notes. The late afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows, casting long, dappled shadows across the polished wooden floor. The study was quiet, save for the soft scrape of cloth on wood. 

Being the clumsy person you were, you spilled a whole bottle of ink on the floor. 

You were on your knees, sleeves rolled up, rubbing at a stubborn stain on the floorboards. The room was sparse, but orderly bookshelves lined with well-thumbed volumes, a sturdy desk cluttered with notes and dried flowers, a simple bed neatly made in the corner.

This was the sort of space your uncle would have loved.

You probably got your character from him. Like you, he didn’t care much for aristocratic life. The rigid etiquette, the hollow smiles at those strange gatherings where everyone pretended to adore one another. The constant presence of servants, hovering like shadows, waiting to tie your shoes or pour your drink—as if you were some fragile, incompetent child. He always said it dulled the instincts. That it made people soft.

Your father had called him a wild cat, but he secretly admired him. He’d vanish into the woods for days and return carrying the carcass of some animal he’d tracked, or a satchel of strange roots and herbs no one could name. “You should do things for yourself,” he once told you, handing you a knife that felt far too large for your hands. 

“Because when the people you depend on are gone, what will you do then?”

He taught you how to hunt a rabbit, which, thinking about it, wasn’t the best thing to teach a seven-year-old. But more than that, he taught you responsibility—real responsibility. That if you broke something, you fixed it. No excuses. No waiting around for someone else to clean up after you.

Which was why you were here now, scrubbing the floor like a fool because you’d been careless enough not to tighten the cap of your flask. The ink had spilled and bled across the boards in a dark, blotchy mess. You could still smell it: metallic, bitter. And with every pass of the cloth, you muttered something under your breath that your uncle would’ve approved of but your mother definitely wouldn’t.

Your knees ached. Your fingers were cramping. But you didn’t stop. This was yours to fix.

Sullyoon paused at the doorway, watching quietly. Her eyes followed the steady movement of your hands, the way you bent low to the floor with focused care. No one wearing a shirt like that had ever knelt like this before, and no one had ever rolled up the sleeves of such a fine shirt.

He’s cleaning. Without asking me.He thinks I’m useless. That I can’t even do the smallest thing right.

Her heart pounded. She could not bear to be seen as idle, or worse, a disappointment. Before you noticed, she stepped inside, clutching a worn cloth she’d found folded in a drawer. “Let me,” she said, voice trembling. “I should be doing this.”

You glanced up, “Huh?”

She dropped to her knees beside you, hands shaking as she took the cloth. She scrubbed at the floor, willing herself to do it faster, better—anything to erase the doubt, the shame that sat heavily on her like a stone.

You watched her for a moment longer, then spoke softly: “You… you don’t have to, I was doing it.”

She bit her lip, refusing to meet your eyes. “I must. It is my duty.”

“Thank you Sullyoon, I appreciate it, but I made this stain, I have to clean it myself,” you said but she didn’t budge and kept her hands glued to the floor. You touched her shoulder to get her to stand up but it was useless. She was convinced. Only then did you notice how skinny she was; you could feel her bones.

You got up and sighed. “Thank you again, Sullyoon. I’ll leave you to it.”

Sullyoon was broken. You understood it from the very first moment you saw her, but you didn’t completely grasp its severity until you started living with her. You felt bad for her and you hated being the reason why she was so restless. 

You were cooking again this evening when it happened again. 

You told her that you’d be the one making the dinner while Sullyoon would be putting away the washed cups. She handled the dishes like they were relics. She cleaned them, dried them, and polished them, giving them the attention that you never did.

Then came the sound.  Small—barely more than a clink—but sharp enough to cut through the soft rhythm of your stirring.

You turned just in time to see the cup slip from her hand and fall. It struck the stone floor with a crisp, brittle crack, then burst—blue and white shards scattering across the tiles like startled birds.

Before you could even speak, she dropped to her knees.

“I—I’m sorry, sir—I’ll pay for it, I swear—I’ll fix it, just please—” Her voice was thin and panicked, words tumbling too fast. She was already reaching for the pieces, heedless of the sharp edges, her breath shallow and wild. She cut herself. Blood bloomed along her thumb, but she didn’t react, she was in complete panic.

You set the spoon down and stepped forward. “Sullyoon, no…”

The moment your voice reached her, she flinched—hard. As if struck. As if she expected to be. And when you reached out instinctively, just to help, she recoiled with wide, frightened eyes. She stared at your palm as if a blade was being lowered on her neck.

Your hand froze in the air.

And then, slowly, you did something else. You stepped in and wrapped your arms around her—not tightly, not forcefully. Just enough. You couldn’t do anything else. She had to know. She was safe.

She stiffened at first. You were absolutely still and didn’t let go.

“It’s okay,” you murmured into her hair. “It’s just a cup. It’s all right.”

For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then—slowly—her fingers, still streaked with blood and trembling, curled slightly into the fabric of your shirt.

You held her in silence. Not to fix everything. Just to let her know nothing else would fall apart today. Not here. Not now. You pulled back only when she did, just enough to meet her eyes.

“There’s a bandage in the drawer,” you said softly, nodding toward the cabinet. “But you can use my handkerchief if you’d rather.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. She was fidgeting with her fingers, and tears were pooling on her eyelids. “It must have cost a lot.”

“No, it didn’t,” you said. “It’s just a cup, it’s not important. It happens. We make mistakes.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I stained your shirt with my blood.”

“It’s okay, you can clean it later” 

She didn’t answer. But her gaze lingered. Not direct. Just enough. And in it, you saw something fragile and flickering, like the wick of a candle just catching flame. She didn’t trust you yet. But for the first time, she didn’t fear you.

III. Connections

The sun filtered lazily through the tall windows, draping long lines of gold across the floorboards. Dust swirled like pollen in the beams of light, and the soft scritch of a broom was the only sound in the room.

She swept slowly, carefully around the cluttered corners of the study—shelves burdened with books, small rocks labeled in neat handwriting, glass jars filled with dried herbs and oddities. The air smelled faintly of ink, old wood, and lavender crushed long ago between pages.

You were sitting on the floor by the fireplace, head bowed over something in your lap. She might have ignored you—she usually did when you were immersed in your own silence—but the way you held the little bundle in your hands caught her eye. 

She paused, tilting her head. She took a long breath and spoke to you: “…Are those flowers, sir?”

You looked up, blinking as if returning from a long dream. A faint smile curved your mouth. “They were. Now they’re bookmarks.”

“Bookmarks?” she questioned.

You lifted a small cloth-wrapped book from your lap and turned it toward her. “Pressed specimens,” you said. “Wild orchids, mostly. Some foxglove, a few I haven’t named yet. I gather them when they bloom and dry them between pages.” You flipped the book open carefully, revealing delicate silhouettes flattened and faded, their once-vivid petals like ghosts of color.

She stepped forward, broom forgotten. “You keep them in books? On purpose?”

“Absolutely. Some men press their legacy into ledgers; I press mine into my herbariums.” You glanced up at Sullyoon. “So that they can learn about themselves.”

Her laugh was soft, surprised, imperceptible. A hum at most.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, fingers hovering near the open page but not touching. “I didn’t know they’d keep their shape like that.”

“Sit here beside me, Sullyoon,” you said. Immediately she obeyed, folding her skirt neatly between her legs and sitting on the floor. She looked at the book open in your hands.

“Some fall apart,” you admitted. “Some stain the paper too much. But the patient ones stay.” Your tone was casual, but something about the way you said it made her calm down.

She met your eyes and didn’t look away this time.

“I think you’d like the marsh violets,” you added. “They grow in shadows and low water, but bloom all the same.”

She listened and gave you a small nod. “I might.”

A pause settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Her apron was damp at the hem, and her hair had fallen slightly out of its pins. She didn’t fix it.

You pointed to one of the flowers in the book. “That one there? I found it half-crushed beneath a deer’s print. Saved what I could. I thought it was ruined, but look how the stem curved when it dried.”

She studied the page, then said softly, “Still lovely.”

“A bit like some people I know,” you said, then cleared your throat as if embarrassed by your own sincerity. “Not naming names, of course.”

She laughed again—this time, a little louder. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that in front of a man.

“Have you ever pressed one yourself?” you asked.

She shook her head. “I’ve only pulled weeds”

“Then let’s change that,” you said and stood up. “Let’s go to the woods. You’ll choose your own flowers.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Come.”

Sullyoon hesitated before putting the broom down and shuffled behind you. 

The woods were quiet in the late afternoon, touched by that soft, golden hour when the light slants through the trees and everything seems to pause. The birds had grown quieter, and only the occasional breeze rustled through the canopy overhead, brushing against your cheeks like a whisper.

You walked a little ahead, basket in one hand and the herbarium in the other. Sullyoon followed behind—quiet, as always, but no longer shrinking. Her footsteps were light on the moss, almost inaudible, but they didn’t hesitate the way they used to.

“This way,” you said, nudging a low branch aside for her to pass. “There are plenty of flowers you can pick.”

She blinked up at you, uncertain.

“Just pick a couple,” you added. “If you see anything you like. We’ll bring them back and press them in parchment between books. They’ll last forever that way.”

She hesitated, then nodded softly. You watched her eyes wander to the forest floor—ferns uncurling at the base of trees, clusters of pale bellflowers, wild violets tangled in the roots.

You didn’t speak much. You didn’t need to. You just wandered with her, pointing out little things along the way. A dew-wet spiderweb stretched between two brambles. A patch of moss that smelled like rain. A quiet clearing where blue stars bloomed low to the earth.

She knelt suddenly.

Her fingers hovered over a cluster of soft, peach-pink wood sorrel growing in the shade of a fallen log. She didn’t pick them—just studied them for a long moment, as if unsure she had the right to touch something so delicate.

“You can take a few,” you said gently. “They won’t mind.”

She glanced at you, then carefully snipped one with the shears you handed her. Then another. And another. Her hands were slow and deliberate, treating each stem like a secret. With time, you began to pick flowers with your bare hands, but Sullyoon didn’t act this way. She was deliberate and gentle.

By the time the light began to fade, your basket was half-full with the things she chose. Nothing bright or showy—just soft, quiet flowers. The kind people usually overlook.

You didn’t say anything, but you noticed.

Back in the mansion, you laid them on the table and took them one by one between the books that you reserved for her. “Put it here.”

She hesitated. “Won’t I ruin it?”

“If it happens, let it happen,” you reassured her. “But your hands are way more gentle than mine so don’t worry about it.”

You guided her through the steps—folding the parchment, arranging the bloom, pressing it between two pages. “What if it comes out all crumpled?” she asked.

You smiled. “Then we call it art and pretend it was meant to be.”

She smiled quietly and stared at the flowers. She felt a subtle connection with them. The phrase lingered in her ears as if the words were about her.

You did it again the next day. Sullyoon asked you with such a gentle voice that you dropped everything you were doing and ran outside.

The day was warm enough that the breeze smelled of sap and soil, soft and green like something just woken. She followed you, her boots crunching gently over pine needles. You told her there was a place you wanted to show her—a clearing, tucked behind the ridge, where the trees gave way to open sky and the ground was covered in wildflowers.

She didn’t know what to expect. You continued to describe it with excitement and wonder but she didn’t relieve you. Not until the trees suddenly parted and they stepped into a world that looked as though it had spilled from a painting.

A carpet of color stretched out before them—blues, golds, whites, and purples swaying in the light like a quiet celebration. Butterflies darted low, undisturbed. Somewhere, a lark sang into the sky.

She stopped dead. Her mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. You stepped into the clearing. The flowers brushed against her skirts, and she turned slowly, her fingers grazing the tops as though afraid they might vanish.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“I got lost once,” you said. “Found something better than the path back.”

She looked at you. You were standing with your arms crossed, head tilted to the sky, the sunlight catching in your hair. It was like the sun was hugging its long-lost son, and you were telling him about all the things it missed about the night sky. Sullyoon was enchanted. 

Then you stepped forward—overconfident on the uneven ground—and your boot caught on a root hidden under the grass.

You pitched forward with a startled grunt, arms flailing. There was no dramatic recovery. Just a loud, undignified thud as you hit the earth.

For half a second, she froze—her old instincts flaring. Then, unexpectedly, a sound escaped her—a single, breathless laugh. Then another. And then she was laughing, truly laughing, the sound bubbling out of her like water from a long-clogged spring.

You rolled over onto your back and looked up at her.

She quickly covered her mouth, mortified. “I’m—I’m so sorry—sir—”

But you were already grinning, one hand behind his head as if reclining on purpose. “Don’t you dare apologize for that,” you said gently.

She blinked.

“That laugh,” you said, “was worth every bruised rib.”

A blush crept up her neck.

You sat up slowly, brushing pollen from his sleeves. “I hadn’t heard it before. Thought maybe you still haven’t learned to laugh”

“I didn’t know I did either,” she said softly, surprised by her own honesty.

The two of you sat there in the grass, surrounded by the hush and hum of flowers. You plucked a stem of clover and rolled it between your fingers. “I know you weren’t allowed to laugh,” you said after a while. “But I hope you’ll do it more. Even if it’s at my expense.”

She looked down at her hands, then back at you. “I might,” she said. And then she smiled.

IV. Nightmares

The house is completely silent, and so is the outside, if not for the calm breeze of the night. All animals are asleep, and you have told your maid to go to sleep first while you finish your work.

Sullyoon lies curled on the narrow bed, her thin frame trembling beneath a threadbare blanket. The chill in the air does nothing to quiet the storm raging inside her mind. The pupils under her eyelids spin and flutter, her limbs are tensed, and sweat pours down her forehead.

She remembers the cold floor of the basement, the smell of the moldy walls, and the sound of dripping water. The cane is raised high, a looming shadow falling over her small body. Orders, insults, screams—they all come back. The pain sears her skin, but worse is the silence. The suffocating, unbearable silence. She has not been allowed to cry, or to speak, or to exist in any way that is truly her own.

Suddenly, a strangled scream tears from her lips—raw, involuntary, and desperate. It shatters the stillness of the night like porcelain on stone.

You immediately stand up from your desk and listen carefully. It is definitely from inside your mansion. Robbers?

You move swiftly through the hallway, guided by the flicker of candlelight and the urgency in your steps. At her door, you knock once and open it.

“Are you awake?” you ask, trying to be as gentle as possible but still worried.

Inside, Sullyoon sits upright, heart pounding, breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Shadows dance at the edges of her vision, and her fingers clutch at the blanket. She turns around, and when she sees you, relief washes over her. She takes deep breaths.

“I… I cannot sleep,” she whispers, barely audible.

The door opens slowly.

You step in, candle in hand, its warm glow softening the harsh edges of the room. “May I come in?”

She nods, unable to find her voice again.

You cross the room carefully and sit at the edge of the bed, leaving space between you. “Did you have a nightmare, Sullyoon? Was it… a past memory?”

“Yeah, it was,” she says apologetically. She has been working on herself these past weeks to not bother you again, yet here you are, awake, having to tend to her again. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It could have happened to anyone. Especially you, after what you had been through.”

“I tried to forget, like you told me, but I don’t know why, tonight…”

“It’s okay, we’ll just have to give you more happy memories to remember instead,” you say. You sit down beside her on the bed. You figure it could make her more comfortable. Sullyoon scoots herself closer to you and sheepishly looks at you.

“Thank you for being here,” she says. “You have always been so kind to me.”

“You’re safe here,” you say. “No one will hurt you.”

Her throat tightens, and for a moment, she can’t speak. “The nightmares…” she whispers finally, “They come when the house is quiet. I always try to keep myself busy because of that.”

You nod. “Would it help to talk about them?”

She doesn’t speak right away. Her eyes are distant, unfocused, as though looking past the walls of the cottage into a place far colder and darker. Her hands, which have been trembling on her lap, grip the edge of her nightgown.

You can see the hesitation in her shoulders and the stiffness in her posture. Her breath hitches. She is trying to push it down but can’t anymore.

Then she lets the words spill, halting and rough. Her voice comes in fragments, not full words at first but broken letters. The way her lips curl slightly in disgust at the memory, the way her eyes blink hard as everything flashes before her pupils—you understand.

“They beat me for looking wrong. Speaking wrong. For breathing wrong. I wasn’t allowed to cry or rest. I had to be what they wanted. A shadow. Not a person. And sometimes… it was worse.”

Your heart aches, but your expression doesn’t shift. Only your hand moves, slowly, until it rests lightly over hers. Sullyoon takes it and holds it tight. It gives her courage.

There has been pain. Not the kind that bruises the skin alone, but the kind that creeps into the deepest parts of a person—their dignity, their voice, their sense of worth. There has been punishment for things so small, so human, that to remember them now makes her seem ashamed of having once hoped to be treated kindly.

And there has been silence. Long silences. She has no one to talk to, not a pen to write it down, not a hand to hold. She is trained to stay silent and obey. She shrinks herself smaller and smaller until even her thoughts feel too loud.

“I have to confess, sir,” she starts again, after a long pause. “When I learned that they were going to send me to a new master, I was fearing for my life. If my previous master was this cruel, who knew what my next master would have been like?”

“John brought you here, didn’t he?” you ask.

“Yes. My old master died, and afterward, I was sold along with the other slaves. You call me your maid—which feels like a very noble title to me—but where I came from, we didn’t have such names. And yes, John bought me and brought me here.”

Sullyoon takes another pause and this time her grip lightens. “You surprised me, master. You gave me nicer food on my first night than I’ve ever received during my whole life. And you gave me a room, a bed to sleep in, clothes… I couldn’t believe what was happening.”

“Those were the bare minimums,” you say.

“That’s what you believe in because your heart was so pure,” she points out, “but for me, they were a miracle.” She leans closer to you. “I know I was tense the first few days, but I thought punishment was just waiting for me.”

Sullyoon now looks you directly in the eyes. “And when I broke that cup, I was terrified. Breaking something is the worst thing a slave can do and instead, you hugged… me. That was the first time in my life someone had ever hugged me and it happened when I broke something. I don’t even remember my parents hugging me…”

You smile and turn to face her directly, holding her shoulders with your hands. You hug her. Because she needs it now more than ever. She melts right into your arms, a quiet sob leaving her lips. You pat her head and try to make her feel as safe as possible. She does.

“It feels unreal every time,” she says.

“I will be here every time you need it,” you tell her. “Don’t even ask.”

In the days after the nightmare, something shifted between them. It wasn’t sudden, it was a feeling. Silence no longer felt strained. She no longer flinched when you entered a room. Her shoulders, once tense, began to soften in your presence. When you spoke, she met your eyes more often. Briefly at first, then loner.

You didn’t force her to do anything. You didn’t pry. Instead, you showed her day by day that you cared about her. You’d leave a thicker blanket by her door on colder days, a sprig of dried lavender tucked into her cupboard, books by her nightstand. 

When she dropped something, you’d help her pick it up without comment. At first, she still felt fear when it happened but slowly, she started to smile.

Sometimes, she would sit near you as you sketched plants or wrote notes. She said little, but her presence was steady, and one day, she fell asleep in the chair beside you. It wouldn’t have meant much if it was anyone else but for you, it was huge. You didn’t wake her, you just adjusted the blanket so her shoulders wouldn’t chill. When she stirred and her eyes met yours, she panicked. 

“Sorry! I’m so sorry! I fell asleep,” she would say and bow over and over.

You just chuckled and told her it wasn’t a big deal. It just showed that she felt comfortable around you and she needed that rest anyways.

It wasn’t long before her steps took her to your room on the quiet nights when the dreams came back. She would stand in the doorway with the pillow in her hands, making her small in the shadow of the door. She didn’t ask but she hoped you’d take her. You would always move aside and make room for her. She never spoke much on those nights but sometimes she would hold your hand until sleep returned to her. Other times, she would rest her head against your shoulder so that your breaths would guide her back to calm.

Then Sullyoon became more needy.

On a late morning, she stood in the doorway of the study, hands clasped in front of her apron. She had just finished tidying the herb jars, lined them up perfectly by species and potency, just as you liked them. She lingered there, hesitant, watchin you work. She was fidgeting around with the hem and only looked down.

When you noticed her, you smiled, “They look perfect, Sullyoon, thank you.”

Her fingers tightened slightly. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

You tilted your head. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head quickly. “No it’s just…” Then her voice dropped in a barely audible whisper. “May I… have a hug?”

You blinked once, then set the pen down without a word and crossed the room. Your arms opened without hesitation. She stepped into them with caution but she melted into your embrace as soon as she made contact. Her hands clutched the back of your shirted, face hidden in your shoulder. You swore you could hear her purr.

“You never asked before,” you murmured into her hair. “But I’m glad you did.”

From then, it became more usual. She still didn’t want to be too much of a bother so she only asked it when she did big tasks or after a lot of time. When she swept the entire house and cut the weeds of the garden, she would appear at your side a half-hidden smile and her hands between her ribbons. You would chuckle softly and open your arms.

When she learnt the names of every plant in your collection or finally managed to bake the spiced bread without burning it, she’d look up to you, eyes bright, and murmur, “Do I get a hug now?”

You always said yes.

And sometimes, after she completed a task with extra care, you’d rest a hand gently on her head, brushing her hair back and say, “Well done.” She never said much when you did it, but her eyes always fluttered shut for a moment, and her lips curled into the most contented smile. You always gave her headpats when she looked cute, which was most of the time you saw her.

Sullyoon had gone to the city a couple of times to buy you bread and other groceries before. But it was never for herself. So one time, you tagged alone with her. The town was right at the bottom of your hill so it was about a half an hour walk. The people were lovely, friendly and bright. Most of them were your friends and your name was common knowledge at this opint.

When you arrived, she hesitated at the edge of the main square. Every thursday, there was a big market where the streets became alive with voices, bells, and carts full of summer goods. Her eyes swept across the stalls and storefronts, it never looked this lively.

You offered your arm and she took it to anchor herself.

“I brought you here to buy you something,” you said as you passed the tailor’s window. “You’ve been working hard, and you deserve rewards. Whenever you want something, just ask me.”

Her gaze flicked up to you, startled. “But… I don’t need anything.”

“That’s not the same as not wanting anything.”

She looked away again, uncertain. You didn't press her, only guided her toward the dressmaker’s shop. Inside, it was quiet and warm, sunlight pooling on polished floorboards and bolts of fabric spilling like rivers from their shelves.

The seamstress welcomed you both and stepped aside as Sullyoon took cautious steps around the room.

“Hey, how are you doing?” the seamstress said to you. “Need me to reinforce your pants again? I told you that all that squatting would tear them.”

“Shhh shhh—don’t say that with her here,” you quickly shut her.

“Ohhhhh… sorry about that,” she laughed. “Who is she?”

“She’s my maid.” Sullyoon’s fingers hovered over a bolt of lavender linen, then pulled back before they touched it. 

“You can touch them, you know,” you said, smiling. “You’re allowed, right?”

“Yes, of course,” said the seamstress.

She blinked, hesitated, then finally ran her fingertips along the fabric. Something in her shoulders eased.

The seamstress brought down a few samples and quietly asked Sullyoon to pick a color she liked. After a long pause, she pointed to a pale blue cotton with a soft, woven texture. “That one,” she said quietly. “It reminds me of the sky outside your study window.”

You nodded, pleased. “That’s a fine choice.”

As the seamstress took her measurements, Sullyoon stood still and straight, clearly unsure how to react to being fussed over. But when she stepped out from behind the curtain in a simple try-on dress—light and neat, with a ribbon tied carefully at her waist—you saw her glance into the mirror and pause.

“I… I don’t look like me,” she said under her breath.

“You look like someone becoming herself,” you said.

Her cheeks flushed faintly.

“Yes, I think it’s beautiful. It’s perfect, what do you think?”

“I like it too,” Sullyoon said.

The seamstress folded the chosen fabric with care, wrapping it in brown paper and tying it neatly with twine. Sullyoon stood beside you, her hands clasped in front of her, gaze lowered but flickering with something close to awe.

She hadn’t asked for it. Hadn’t even dared to suggest it. But when you saw the way her fingers lingered on that pale blue cloth, the way she tried not to seem too interested, you knew.

You stepped forward, drawing your coin pouch from your coat.

“I’ll take this one,” you said to the seamstress, nodding toward the fabric. “And the fitting for the dress we discussed. Please make it simple, but well-fitted. Something she can move in.”

Sullyoon’s head lifted slightly, eyes wide.

The seamstress gave you a nod, already scribbling notes. “It’ll be ready in three days. Sooner if I can help it.”

As the payment exchanged hands, Sullyoon shifted beside you. “Wait… you’re buying it?”

You turned to her, gentle. “Of course. I said you could choose something.”

“I didn’t think you meant it.”

“I did,” you said softly. “You deserve rewards. Whenever you want something, just ask me.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. Just a breath—a fragile, disbelieving breath—as she stared at the wrapped parcel the seamstress handed to you.

You turned and offered it to her, holding it out with both hands like something delicate. “Here. It’s yours.”

She reached for it slowly, like it might vanish if she moved too fast. Her fingers brushed yours as she took it, and her hands trembled just faintly as she cradled the package to her chest.

“I’ve never… had something new,” she murmured. “Something just for me.”

You smiled. “Now you do.”

As you stepped outside into the street again, the wind lifted a strand of her hair. She looked back over her shoulder once at the shopfront, then ahead, holding the little bundle close like it might anchor her to the moment.

And maybe, in a way, it did.

V. It’s love

The rain had been falling gently for hours, painting silver lines down the windows and filling the house with the steady hush of water and wind. Evening had settled in, soft and dim, with only a few candles lit in the sitting room where you sat reading by the hearth.

Not a lot of work to do today, so Sullyoon had plenty of time for herself to think.

Sullyoon lingered in the hallway.

You noticed her there—partially hidden by the doorway, one hand resting lightly on the wall as if steadying herself. Her hair was braided loosely over one shoulder, damp at the ends from the short dash back from the woodshed earlier, where she’d gone to bring in more kindling. She was still in her blue dress, but something in her eyes made her look entirely different.

“Is something wrong?” you asked gently, setting the book aside.

She hesitated. Then stepped into the room, fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve.

“No,” she said softly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

You waited.

“I…” Her voice caught, and she tried again, quieter. “I wanted to ask if you could come to my room. There’s something I… I want to say.”

Your chest tightened at the trembling sincerity in her voice. She wasn’t afraid—not like before—but she was uncertain. Like someone offering a fragile thing into another’s hands, hoping it wouldn’t be broken.

“,Of course, whenever you need” you slowly stood up, careful not to startle her.

She turned, wordlessly, and led you through the narrow hallway. The candlelight flickered as you passed, shadows slipping across the floor. Her door was already open, and when she stepped inside, she paused near the bed and sat down. You did the same.

Her gaze was lowered. Her hands clasped in front of her skirt, knuckles pale.

“I’ve been thinking about something for a while,” she said. “But I didn’t know how to say it. Or if I should. But now I feel like… if I don’t say it, I’ll regret it.”

You took a small step closer, but said nothing.

“I’ve never had someone listen to me. Never had someone stay. And I don’t know how to be someone worth staying for…” Her voice faltered. “But when you’re kind to me, and when you trust me with little things, like the pressed flowers or your books or just—your company… it means more than I know how to say.”

You were close now. Not touching, just close.

“And I think,” she continued, barely louder than the rain, “that I’m starting to… love you. And it scares me. Because I don’t know what that’s supposed to look like.”

She finally lifted her eyes to yours.

“I just needed you to know.”

You took a slow breath, heart swelling with something warm and full. She stood there, vulnerable and brave all at once, the candlelight brushing soft gold across her cheekbones and the tremble of her lip.

You reached out gently, so she could see your hand coming, and touched her cheek with your knuckles—lightly, reverently. She didn’t flinch. Her eyes shimmered with something close to disbelief.

Then you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering just a moment longer than necessary, as if to seal something unspoken between you.

“I love you too, Sullyoon,” you said quietly.

It was not grand or dramatic. Just true.

Her breath hitched. Her hands, which had been clenched tightly against her skirt, slowly unfurled. Her shoulders loosened. A single tear slipped down her cheek—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming gentleness of the moment.

“You mean it?” she asked, almost like she was afraid to believe it.

“I do,” you said. “Not because you serve me. Not because you’ve been kind or quiet or patient. But because you’re you. And I’ve been falling for you without even realizing how deeply.”

“I’ve also- I’ve been thinking about the books in your library. I’ve read them and I wondered about what they called “love” and what two people do when they love each other.” Sullyoon gulps. Her insides are stirring and her head is starting to go haywire. But she holds your hand and speaks again. 

“Sullyoon…”

“I want to service you, Master. To show you my gratitude.”

“You don’t have to do that, Sullyoon. There are many ways you have to thank me. You should do it only with…”

“I know. But I want this too,” she confesses. “I remember that you said I should be rewarded as well. This is what I want, master, please.” Sullyoon’s breath is getting warmer. She gets closer to you, this time your shoulders touch, and you can feel the heat of her body.

“I want to be closer to you. A hug is no longer enough. If this feeling…”

“Love?”

“Yeah, love. If what I feel is truly love, I want you to take me, master.” Sullyoon swallows her last hesitation. “My body is scarred and damaged. So I understand if you don’t find me desirable. But I still wish to offer myself to you. This is all I have and I want you to have it.”

“Oh, Sullyoon, I do. And I feel honored that you have these feelings.” You say truthfully.

“Really?” She says. “Master… I will show you everything.”

She takes a deep breath and slowly takes off her clothes. First, her long socks, revealing her long, luscious legs, then her nightgown at once, finally revealing her white porcelain skin, shining under the moonlight. Her whole figure, slender and smooth, together with her small breasts, tempt you. Then you saw her scars. Most of them healed, but there were still marks, and some were deeply etched into her skin.

“H-here I am, all of me.”

Your hand gently brushes against them. You observe how her skin reacted and trembled. Sullyoon’s breath is irregular; she tries to hold it and is surprised by the chills that go down her spine.

“Sullyoon you are… beautiful.”

The girl gasped. “...what?! Me? Beautiful…?” She says, trembling. “You really think so? How could you?”

Your hand goes up to her cheek, brushing under her jaw, and you kiss her. Deeply. Because she wouldn’t have believed any other word that came out of your mouth, you just had to show her. Sullyoon accepts it wholeheartedly. She tries her best to kiss you back, moving her lips with yours, but it is her first time.

She doesn’t know what to do and just sits there, feeling your hands around her face and your lips lovingly kissing her like she never knew.

She looks straight into you, with love, desire, “Master… I feel like my heart is gonna jump out of my chest.”

Sullyoon smiles, and your heart flutters.

“Please, master, I want to do it. Sex, I mean. I want you to show me all of these feelings.” She begs you with the smallest of voices. A whisper. Seductive and pleading. “Please. Won’t you allow it?”

You couldn’t resist. How could you? “I will,” you simply say, trying to maintain your composure. She wants you badly but you only want her more. Now more than anything.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just lie down, here on the bed,” you say, and pat the pillow next to you. Sullyoon follows, making herself comfortable, resting her hands on her belly. She trembles from anticipation.

“Now what—mmh” she’s interrupted by your kiss again. Her hands go on your shoulders as she welcomes you, pulling you in.

A soft gasp escapes Sullyoon's lips as your mouth travels down her neck, her back arching slightly in response. Her breath quickens, her chest rising and falling with increased rhythm.

Your hands come on her chest, caressing and fondling her small breasts. Your fingertips gently pinch one nipple while you massage the flesh of the other. With stimulation coming from two places, Sullyoon has a hard time keeping up with you and starts to whimper helplessly. She breathes deeply between your kisses to accommodate this new feeling.

Your fingers trace lower, skimming across her stomach. Sullyoon's hands tighten into fists, then slowly release. She bites her lower lip, attempting to stifle any further audible reactions.

"Please..." she whispers, though whether it's a plea for more or restraint is unclear. Her body remains mostly still but it’s reacting to every stimulation.

“Arch your back for me,” you whisper into her ear. She complies.

Sullyoon's breathing becomes more labored as you tug her underwear down her legs. She’s desperate. Your hands are so close and she’s so naked in front of you but it’s exactly where she wants to be. She looks at you with eagerness, yearning for your next move.

Once her panties are removed, she’s half-sitting on the cushion before you with legs parted, exposed, and vulnerable. Her expression is still controlled, but the flush on her cheeks deepens, and a bead of sweat trickles down her temple.

She slowly opens her legs wider. “I’m yours now, please do what you want, master.”Her voice wavers slightly, betraying her heightened state of arousal.

Very gently, you start rubbing her swollen clit. Sullyoon's body jerks involuntarily at the first touch, a choked whimper escaping her lips. Her hands fly to her mouth, silencing any further sounds as she struggles to maintain her facade of composure. 

Then you insert your fingers inside her, finding her G-spot and slowly massaging it. You can feel the wetness pooling into your hands, aiding your movement. 

Her hips buck upwards, seeking more of your fingers' movement. The telltale signs of her escalating desire are written across her body - the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the sheen of sweat on her skin, the way her thighs tremble with need. "More… please," Sullyoon manages to say through gritted teeth, her words barely audible over her ragged breathing.

Sullyoon's eyelids flutter closed as she focuses on the sensations coursing through her body. She takes a shaky breath, then opens her eyes to meet yours with a steady gaze.

“Are you okay?” you ask before it gets too much. “Any pain?”

"No pain," she says, her voice a husky whisper. "Please continue…"

Sullyoon inhales sharply as your fingers slide deeper inside her, stretching her to accommodate the added length. Her back arches, nails digging into your hand as she adjusts to the newfound sensation. "Yes," she breathes, "that's it... more."

Sullyoon's hips grind against your palm, clit throbbing in time with the rhythm of your fingers pumping in and out of her. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood in a desperate attempt to overcome the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins.

You take out your hand, now dripping with her juices. She looks at you with confusion and disappointment in her eyes. “Is there a problem?” she asks. No problem. Looking at how much liquid was spilling out of her made you incredibly hungry. You had to get a taste.

As you lower your head down between her legs, Sullyoon gets more worried by the sudden movement. “What are you doing, master?” she pants. “Don’t go there, it’s dirty—ah!”

Sullyoon's eyes fly open as your mouth makes contact with her sensitive flesh, her initial shock giving way to moans of pleasure. Her thighs tremble, muscles clenching around your tongue as you lap at her folds and delve into her core.

"Oh gods, Master!" she cries out, fingers digging into the sheets as you lavishly attend to her most intimate area. "That's... incredible!"

You slurp up her sweetest nectar, nibbling on her lips, sucking on her clit, pushing your tongue into the depth of her hole. Every single movement makes her go crazier. She tastes just as sweet as she looks, and her moans beg you to continue.

Its delightful.

She’s delightful 

Sullyoon's hips undulate against your face, meeting each lick and stroke with increasing urgency. The sensation of your tongue exploring her depths sends jolts of electricity coursing through her veins, reigniting the embers of her arousal.

"Yes, right there," Sullyoon gasps, needy. Her hands finally come onto your head and softly pull you into her. She’s helpless but there’s still that instinct behind her actions that tells her to know her place and not interfere with you. 

But as your mouth seals over her clit, Sullyoon's world descends into chaos. Your two fingers go back into her, stroking her spot, while your other hand pushes down onto her womb to get closer to your fingertips. The pressure on her stomach amplifies her pleasure and her moans turn to screams. She doesn’t know what to say, nor is she able to. You only suck harder and move faster.

“W-wa-wait!” you can barely hear. “Some—something is coming…!” Sullyoon says, almost scared about what her body might do. But you know. You have to make her cum.

A keening wail tears from her throat as the first wave of climax crashes over her, sending shockwaves rippling through every nerve ending.

Her body convulses violently, her back arching as her vision blurs behind a kaleidoscope of colors. Sullyoon's inner walls clench and ripple around your finger, gushing nectar that floods your mouth and dribbles down your chin. It’s thick, white and coats your tongue completely. You carefully lick it all up, scared that it might go to waste.

"P-please, Master!" she sobs, voice breaking as the onslaught of pleasure threatens to consume her entirely. "Don't stop, I can't... I can't..."

As if driven by a primal instinct, Sullyoon starts to grind against your face aggressively, riding out the tsunami of ecstasy. Her moans escalate into cries of pure abandon, echoing off the walls as she surrenders utterly to the sensation.

Finally, with a hoarse scream, Sullyoon's climax crests and breaks, leaving her shuddering and spent in the aftermath. As the tremors subside, she collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily, her chest heaving with each ragged breath.

She collapsed back onto the bed, limbs trembling and lungs heaving as if each breath had to be pulled from deep inside her chest. Sweat clung to her skin in a shining sheen, dripping from her brow, soaking the sheet under her, making her skin saltier. Her cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, strands of damp hair plastered to her forehead.

Sprawled on her side, one arm draped limply over her stomach, she lay still for a moment, gulping at the air like it might steady the pounding in her head. Her heart thudded in her ears, louder than her breaths.

“M-master?” she started. “What was that? What was that feeling? I—something happened, I don’t know…”

You chuckled. “It was an orgasm. You came. That’s the final part of sex, usually. It feels good, right?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Was it the first time?”

A weak nod tells you everything you needed. For a while, she stayed where she was, letting the fire in her lungs dim to a flicker. Her breath slowed—still deep, but no longer desperate. The pounding in her chest began to settle, fading into a steady rhythm.

Slowly, she rose and sat on the bed. “Master, can we do it now? The real thing?” she asked you, even needier than before. If what you just did felt like heaven coming down on her, she couldn’t even imagine what was next.

You started to undress. Sullyoon looked at the bulge in your pants, unattended, that now was starting to hurt from how rock hard it got. You quickly took off your shirt, trousers, and underwear, showing your penis in front of her.

A quiet gasp escaped her lips. She stared at you with excitement. “So… this is your manhood, right?”

You nodded and you kneeled back into the bed. Sullyoon looked into your eyes and asked, “Can I touch it?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” you tell her.

Sullyoon reaches out tentatively, her fingers wrapping around your thick shaft. She strokes you with a gentle, exploratory touch, her touch tentative at first, then growing bolder as she becomes more confident.

"It's so warm and firm," she murmurs, her voice filled with wonder. "I had no idea it would feel this way."

Sullyoon's thumb rubs against the sensitive underside of your cockhead as she pumps her hand along your length. She leans in closer, inhaling deeply as if trying to absorb every scent and texture. She tries to stroke with you more speed, worried she might be doing a bad job but really you’re enchanted by the sight of her doing her best. She’s adorable and it’s turning you on more than you anticipated. 

Her fingertips make you shiver. Despite her hard work, her palms are still smooth and soft.

"I saw the girls doing stuff like this. I want to try it. May I put it in my mouth?" Sullyoon asks, her gaze locked with yours, desire and curiosity burning bright in her eyes. “Yes,” you whisper. It was your turn now to be completely turned on and yearning for her.

With a subtle nod, Sullyoon aligns your head with her lips, then takes you into her mouth, inch by inch. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks gently, her tongue swirling around the sensitive glans. Sullyoon's hands move to caress your thighs, urging you deeper as she begins to bob her head in a slow, rhythmic motion. Her eyelids flutter shut, lost in the sensations of exploring this new intimacy.

After a few moments, Sullyoon pulls back, releasing your cock with a wet pop. She gazes up at you, her lips glossy and swollen, eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

"Is this pleasing to you, Master?" Sullyoon asks, her voice husky from the act.

“Yes, you are doing well, Sullyoon,” you say and pat her head. Sullyoon's lips curve into a sly smile at your praise, her confidence growing with each word. She takes a deep breath, then plunges back onto your cock,determined to take you even deeper.

Sullyoon's throat constricts around the head of your shaft as she gulps you down, her nose brushing against your pubic bone. She relaxes her jaw, allowing you to slide further until the tip kisses the back of her throat.

The vibrations of her moan resonate around your length as she sucks harder, cheeks hollowing and lips stretched tautly. Sullyoon's tongue swirls and teases the sensitive underside, her fingers kneading your thighs for added leverage.

“Mmmh… your lips feel so good,” you let out a heavy groan.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to catch her breath, before diving back down, setting a more rhythmic pace. Sullyoon's fingers dig into your thighs as she suckles greedily, her throat working to take every inch. Sullyoon's head bobs, saliva streaming down her chin as she devours your cock like a starving woman. Her moans grow louder, more urgent, as if she was pleasuring herself.

Her eyes lock with yours, wild and unfocused, as she loses herself in the act. Her mind clouds with lust, every thought centered on bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. With each stroke of her tongue and suck of her lips, Sullyoon strives to prove herself worthy for you.

When you felt like you were getting too close, you pulled out of her mouth. She looked at you, almost disappointed. “That’s enough… i think we are ready” you say, but she can feel the shakiness of your voice.

Sullyoon gazes up at you, her eyes shining with triumph and arousal at your praise. She smiles, the curve of her lips dripping with saliva.

Your hands go around her head and you pull her into a kiss, which she accepts happily. You savor her lips, trying to recover yourself, and adorn her with praises and compliments. Your words alone cause her bodily pleasure and her wetness is pooling into the sheets. 

“I’ll put it inside you now,” you whisper at the end.

Sullyoon's eyes widen slightly at your declaration, a flutter of apprehension momentarily clouding her expression. However, she quickly recovers, nodding resolutely as she realizes your intentions. "I am prepared, Master," Sullyoon says, her voice calm and measured.

She lies down on the bed and shifts position, spreading her legs wider in silent invitation. Sullyoon lifts her hips slightly, helping guide your cock to her slick entrance. Her body tenses ever so slightly as the head of your shaft presses against her, the first barrier to your joining.

"Please…" Sullyoon urges. "Take me now."

Sullyoon's breath catches as the broad head of your cock nudges past her delicate folds, the intrusion is both thrilling and slightly uncomfortable. She bites her lip, tensing as you gradually work your way deeper, the stretch exquisite yet unfamiliar.

You’re knocked back into your senses as well. Her walls are extremely tight, squeezing your cock in its entire length. It’s thanks to her dripping wetness that you can enter her easily. You grit your teeth, you can already feel it coming.

As you continue your measured advance, Sullyoon begins to relax, her body adapting to the new sensation. Her walls clench around your length, welcoming you completely. Sullyoon's eyes lock with yours, you can see the love in her eyes, she’s happy. With a slow nod, she grants permission for you to take control, trusting in your guidance.

"I am ready," Sullyoon confirms, her voice husky with anticipation. "Please… do it."

As your lips meet hers, Sullyoon melts into the kiss, her body responding instinctively to the gentle rocking motion of your hips. She tastes your tongue, finding comfort in your taste while the new feeling between her legs starts to cloud her mind.

Sullyoon's hands come up to frame your face, fingers tangling in your hair as she deepens the kiss. She moans softly into your mouth, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. Her thighs wrap around your waist, pulling you in tighter, urging you to continue the slow, sensual thrusts.

Breaking the kiss, Sullyoon gazes up at you with hooded eyes, her chest heaving with each breath. "More…" she whispers, her voice husky with need. "Please, Master…"

You were trying to hold back for her, but the tone in her voice was irresistible. You start to let go, speeding up the rhythm of your hips bucking into hers.

With renewed fervor, Sullyoon starts to meet your thrusts, rolling her hips to take you deeper. Her inner walls clench around your shaft, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her veins. Sullyoon's moans grow louder, more urgent, her mind turning hazy from lust, losing herself into your rhythm.

“Mmmh!” she moans. You continue fucking her. You’re chasing your own release now. Sullyoon doesn’t care what you do. Every movement, even the smallest, brings her the most pleasure she’s ever experienced.

You don’t want to last longer. You’ve endured enough. Her nails dig into your shoulders, urging you on, silently pleading for more of the exquisite friction.

"I love you," Sullyoon gasps, her voice strained with effort. "Don't stop, Master. Please, don't ever stop."

The room fills with the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh, the lewd squelch of their joined hips. You didn’t think she could get wetter but she did. You were sliding in and out of her without much effort at all. Your hips were now smashing into hers, kissing her womb at every thrust.

"Yes, Master!" Sullyoon cries out, her voice rising in pitch and volume as she surrenders to the brutal pace. "Harder, please! Make me yours!"

With each brutal slam of his hips, Sullyoon's body is driven up the bed, the headboard crashing against the wall. Sullyoon clings to you desperately, nails digging into your back as she tries to anchor herself against the torrent of sensations crashing over her.

Her breasts bounce wildly with each thrust, the hard nipples grazing your chest. Sullyoon's inner walls clench, milking your cock. The pressure builds rapidly, her orgasm coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Master, I'm... I'm almost—" Sullyoon gasps, her words cut short by a loud, uncontrollable moan as her climax rips through her. Her body seizes, back arching as she comes hard, inner muscles rippling around your shaft.

Her orgasm hits her hard—Sullyoon's hips thrust wildly, and her words turn into a mix of incoherent moans. In the chaos, your cock slips out of her climaxing pussy, and you feel her squirt splattering against you. Your fingers quickly deep into her and you finger her pussy to help her ride it out. She creates quite a mess—not only is her cum all over your legs and cock, yet you keep on fucking more of it out of her.

Her body goes limp, sated, and spent. She pants heavily, trying to catch her breath amidst the aftershocks of her intense orgasm. Then she looks at you, with your penis still rock hard. “Master—you—you haven’t orgasmed yet,” she says apologetically.

“Well, no—” you start but Sullyoon interrupts you. “Please use me,” she begs you. “You have to cum too.”

With your fresh instructions, you get back to what you were doing with Sullyoon earlier. You hold her by the waist, and before long, you're back to pounding her pussy with thrusts. Sullyoon handles each thrust like a champ—she even pushes herself back onto your cock while moaning like crazy. Her eyes are glazed over, her jaw loose, but she still knows how to ride your cock and match every thrust flawlessly.

You thrust your cock deep into Sullyoon's cunt. Sullyoon screams at the rhythm—she's still sensitive from the orgasm, and your pounding of her tight cunt drives her wild—but somehow she still manages to bounce herself on your cock. 

You pull Sullyoon down roughly onto your cock, burying yourself deep inside her. Your cock erupts with thick, hot semen, shooting deep into her cunt, and you hardly move at all—just staying hilted in Sullyoon as you let your orgasm wash over you. All you do is shudder and thrust your hips as each wave of cum leaves your body and fills her up. The only thing Sullyoon can do is moan as the warmth of your release floods deep inside her, coating her walls white with shot after shot of your seed filling her womb.

She finally relaxes when you’re done and can barely raise her head to look at you. “Master… what is that? What’s that white liquid.”

“Oh, well that’s semen. Uhm, that’s what males let out when they cum,” you say, shyly. It’s embarrassing to have to explain such things, even after what you just did.

“As long as it’s from you, it’s fine,” she says. Sullyoon lifts her fingers from between her legs, her digits glistening with a thick layer of your cum and juices.

You see Sullyoon bring her fingers to her mouth. Her tongue peeks out from between her lips, and she savors your cum off her fingers as if it were a treat. She maintains her gaze on you while she cleans her fingers of your seed. 

“It tastes good,” she says casually and laughs. You chuckle as well to brush off the awkwardness. You both remain silent for a few minutes, processing what just happened.

“Thank you, master,” she whispers at last. “You never treated me like a slave. I just… I’m so happy to have you.”

“And I’m happy to have you,” you say, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

She looks up at you, tears welling, her voice trembling. “Thank you, master.”

You smile gently, shaking your head. “I’m not your master anymore, Sullyoon. Not after this. You’re more than that. More than a maid. More than a title.”

She blinks slowly, her lips parting. “Then… what should I call you?”

“I don’t know,” you say, a little sheepishly.

She hesitates for a moment, eyes flicking down before rising to meet yours again, a soft light blooming in them. “What about… darling? I saw it once, in one of your books. It’s what people say when their hearts belong to each other.”

You smile, your chest tightening in the best way. “That’s perfect.”

A breathless laugh escapes her, half joy, half disbelief. She leans into you, her head finding its place against your chest, where your heartbeat thuds steadily and surely. Your arms come around her, not to hold her tightly, but completely. She isn’t just in your arms—she is where she belongs.

Outside, the forest stirs with the hush of wind through leaves, but inside, all is quiet.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” you murmur. “Not of the past. Not of tomorrow. As long as I’m breathing, I’ll keep you safe. Because I love you more than anything in this world.”

Her body shakes with quiet sobs—not of sorrow, but release. She clings to you, trembling with emotion, with the enormity of being loved without condition.

“Thank you,” she breathes through her tears. “Thank you… darling. I love you, too.”

The candle flickers low beside you, casting soft golden light over the two of you as the night folds gently around the house. She had never felt so safe in silence before.

THE END

Written, 27 May 2025 - 9 July 2025

Closing notes:

I promised to write this fic almost a year ago after my post received 160 notes. It took a really long time since I was busy, but I never forgot. It turns out I'm more of a summer writer who returns once a year. I hope you enjoyed the story if you arrived at this message.

I'd like to thank @usedpidemo, @leafostuff, and @4m1rz for editing this story. I would also like to thank @erospandemos, who helped write this story and made the cover art.

[leafostuff]

Wow

[leafostuff]

Yesssss

me gon crashoit