#(and react to it if you want to -shrugs- )

[aluckiicoin]

@shallliveoninsong & @maskednihilism ; here's the compromise one gets to see it and the other gets to decide to see it. Fair enough?

The dreamphone dialled for a very, very long time until the connection finally established.

The dream showed a dreary, dark and bare room, filled to the brim with shadowy figures surrounding a shivering blonde creature – trying to curl up into the tiniest ball possible. Hard to tell who it was when the eyes were pressed closed and shackled arms wrapped around bruised knees. The humanoid shades around worked to remedy that however, grabbing at the person, tugging and tearing relentlessly until tears marked unmistakable frightened wide pink and blue eyes. Words, sounds, curses resounded through the room, all in languages that would be foreign, nonsensical. Cruel hands pulled and tore at the blonde until they could bury right into the young one's chest, digging through it with clear delight. Tearing skin open without any remorse. A certain spark of glee wandered over the shadowy beings when the first one managed to excavate a handful of green shiny gemstones.

That's all it took for the shades to become more aggressive, tugging and tearing into their victim's skin viciously, clawing out more and more of the prize – despite the begging, with a complete disregard for the sobs, the tears, the pleas and the suffering of their victim.

They kept digging, pulling, pushing despite the struggles, taking and taking and taking. Their greed marked the poor thing with golden lines, golden shackles, vibrant golden – bleeding – scars.

Ultimately the struggling stopped, the sobbing turned silent, shoulders shaking still, eyes still leaked but otherwise seemingly dead. Hands burrowed into the chest with the same disregard as before but failed to pull forth anything while their victim surrendered to the shackles, sunk into them, if he couldn't be free of them, maybe he could make them his. Only when the fifth, and sixth, and subsequent tries didn't manage to pull out more gems the shadowy figures retreated, left behind the broken weeping empty husk kneeling on the ground.

Useless.

They took all there was to have. At least until he'd clean up and looked presentable – the connection cuts off.

The dreamer likely woke up because of something.

[median-culture-is]

Median culture is wanting to come out to your bf who is accepting of systems but didn't think you were a system when he found out you were questioning :(

.

[sttoru]

Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’ \\ kuna’s an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k

you���ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.

perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.

missing someone.

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

but of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses—the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out. sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. “fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.

[nezuscribe]

arguing with arranged!gojo is difficult because he’s not used to arguing with women and you’re not used to arguing period.

it rarely happens, but when it does it gets really heated between the two of you. you pace around your room, huffing as gojo stands there with his arms crossed, nose flaring.

like that one time he found out that one of the new guards the brought in from the west was somebody you used to fool around with.

yeah that was bad.

“why do you even care!” you snap at him, and he can’t find a plausible reason aside from the fact that he was purely jealous.

this guard that they’d brought in from the west, much to your shock, was somebody you used to see in the late hours of the night. you never did anything frisky, just some shared kisses here and there.

but the moment you saw him, your whole demeanor changed. and gojo could tell. it took a bit of picking and prodding (which gojo is great at) but you eventually told him the story.

and he was not excited to hear it.

“i want him gone,” he tells you and you roll your eyes, shrugging indefinitely.

“fine,” you throw your arms up, “get him out. but what about those girls? you think i don’t want them gone whenever we walk into one of those balls or those dinners? when i see the way they look at you? you think that’s easy for me?”

“it’s different,” his tone is unwavering and cold.

you scoff, shaking your head in dismay.

“what? what’s so different? that i kissed him? big deal!” you feel like you want to cry and yell and jump and scream at the same time.

because it was different. for you. because the men didn’t seem to care that gojo had a new wife, or that he cared for her. but the ladies did. they gossiped in frenzied tones, batted their eyelashes at him even more as if that could cast him away from your spell.

so you didn’t know why he cared so much about this one man. why it should matter to him when he’s had far, far more experiences than you.

you felt hurt that he doubted you, angered with his hypocrisy, and tired from spending the entire day ignoring each other.

“this is going nowhere,” you mutter eventually, picking up your pillow as his eyes drop to your hands, “i’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“what-”

“and don’t follow me,” you bite out, not even glancing behind your shoulder as you begin to sulk out of your shared bedroom to your old one all across the estate.

and sure, maybe you’re not being entirely fair. there’s been some petty arguments when he bumps into one of his old girls, but it didn’t hurt nonetheless when he accused you of lying, when the conversation of your old romantic life was just never brought up.

you wipe at the stray tears on your cheek as you slug down the stairs, sniffling to yourself as you curse your husband to hell and back, when a force unlike any other picks you up from behind.

“what?” you squeal, your body manicured over a strong shoulder, your legs near his torso, your eyes facing his back as you kick at him, “let me go, i’m going to fall!”

“don’t make me laugh,” gojo murmured, one strong arm around your waist, the other around your thighs as he hauls you back up the stairs.

“i told you not to follow me,” you grumble, pinching his back but he doesn’t react.

“you’re funny if you think i’ll let you sleep alone.”

your brows furrow, feeling the need to kick him, but also not wanting him to drop you.

it doesn’t take long for him to reach your bedroom, opening the door with his free hand (unbridled strength if the greatest warrior of the north meant he could pick you up with just one hand) and plops you back on the mattress.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking away, hoping he can’t see the tear marks.

because it did hurt. his words hurt you. they cut deep. and he notices, his gaze softening slightly.

“don’t cry,” he whispers, leaning down to trace your tears away but you swat his hand off of your face.

“then don’t make me cry,” you say with a heavy sigh, siting upwards, back slightly hunched.

you take a deep breath, rubbing at your eyes as you glance upwards at him. it’s been a while since the two of you had fought, and the first time over something serious, and he looks awful.

“i don’t judge you for being with those girls,” you start with a heavy whisper, “you did what you could to stay sane. but don’t judge me for doing the same.”

gojo breathes deeply through his nose, blinking.

“you’re right,” he says after a heavy second, causing you too look up in confusion.

he nods again, his big hand cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he catches the stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“you’re right and i’m sorry,” he repeats, and you’ve never had somebody agree with you before, “i just…saw the way he looks at you and…i didn’t like it.”

you offer him a small nod.

“but he just looked at me,” you shift so that your resting on your haunches, hands in your lap. he towers over you, one hand going to cradle the back of your head.

gojo shrugs, like he can’t put it into comprehensible words how he felt when that guard looked at you with hunger in his eyes. how only he was allowed to look at you with such starvation.

“i didn’t like it,” he can only repeat, and you know he struggles with his emotions, spent years hiding them so that they wouldn’t become his weakness.

“do you want to sleep?” he finally asks you, and you slowly blink, trying to hide the tiredness from your face.

“i’ll still be here when you wake up,” he offers and you crack a small smile, trying to hide it from him.

but your smile drops as you think, eyes darting up to his.

“it’s okay to not like something, and it’s okay to feel angry that you don’t. but don’t ever, ever, make me feel like that again because of it.”

your stare is unwavering, and he feels a certain sense of pride in seeing that. and gojo nods, one steady movement as he drops down to his knees, trying to be level with your gaze.

“you have my full authority to strike me down if i do,” he promises, his hands cupping your face, his words serious but you can’t help but giggle.

“good,” you murmur, tugging slightly harshly on some of the strands of his hair as he winces, pushing you back onto the bed with the sheer force of his body, climbing up into you as he hold you close to him.

you let out another laugh as he acts like a bear cub, not wanting to move an inch away from your warmth as he cuddles into you, trying to finish his massive size compared to you.

the two of you laid in silence, a comfortable one, as he laid his head in your chest, hearing the steady rhythm of your heart.

“i am sorry,” he whispers, craning his neck to look up at you as he rests his chin on your sternum, “i’m sorry.” he says again, his words barely above a sound.

you blink again, moving some of the hair away from his face as you observe his sorrowful features.

“i know,” you whisper back.

gojo finds your hands, interweaving your fingers together, heart tugging when he feels your ring against his skin.

he brings the finger to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the ring as you watch him silently. no other words needed to be said, no words left unspoken as he pulls you into his chest.

because no woman would amount to a sliver of you. and no man would amount to a morsel of him.

[klashwhip]

these past few weeks you’ve been watching tiktoks of people asking their signifcant other to peel/cut oranges for them. you watch the variety of reactions; from a hudband who tells his wife to ‘do it yourself, im not your maid’ to ‘you feel like an orange? i feel like an apple.’

wondering how your boyfriend would react to the request, you secretly record him while the both of you were lying on the bed—deep down you already know how he’d react.

“katsuki, baby,”

he grumbles in reply

“i feel like snacking on some oranges”

“i bought and cut some earlier, it’s in the fridge.”

he went beyond your expectations, you had expected him to be willing but not him reading your mind and anticipating the day you would crave some oranges, “huh…?”

he looks up from his phone and look at you, with an eyebrow raise, “what?”

“how do you know i want oranges?”

he shrugs, “i don’t know, lucky guess,” his mouth curled up a teeny tiny bit.

he can’t just say that he had a feeling you would, that would make him seem like a loser (he is, in every way possible.) he noticed you kept using your citrus lipbalm out of the 20 other flavours. you ordered 2 lemony-orangey-citrusy sodas this week alone, you unconsciously triple sniffed when you walk past the fruits —specifically the oranges—aisle. just a lucky guess.

[sugoroo]

#AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES...

ʚɞ summary: the chronicles of what happens when you share a living space with the jjk men: expect tension, embarrassing revelations and (of course) séx! . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, masturbation, panty stealing, plushie humping in choso's, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, oral (f receiving), 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO — THE LOUD ONE!

satoru gojo is the most irritating, annoying and overly loud roommate you could possibly have.

at all hours of the day, he can be heard through the thin walls separating your rooms doing one (or all) of the following things: shouting down the phone to his bestfriend suguru, raging at his teammates for losing a match in a video game... and even jerking off.

yes, that's right.

and whatever satoru is doing to himself in there simply cannot feel good enough that it warrants the sheer amount of obnoxious moans that he releases; you're sure of it. he has to be playing it up purely to get on your nerves — and to his credit, it works.

so eventually, after yet another hour of trying to focus on doing some work on your computer but being unable to get anything done due to the noises coming from the other room of the apartment, you decide to do something about it.

without stopping to knock, you unceremoniously barge through his door, mouth already open in preparation of the spew of complaints you have ready to throw his way.

but, rather embarrassingly, once you lay eyes upon what he's currently doing, any and every word in the english language disappears from your mind without so much as a puff of smoke.

satoru, for his part, doesn't react at all save for looking mildly amused at your reaction. in fact... you think the pale hand he has wrapped around his cock even speeds up its languid strokes at the sight of you.

"girl, finally!" he sighs dramatically, lips spreading into a wide, impish smile as he beckons you with the curled finger of his other hand. "been waiting for you to get the hint for months now. i was starting to think you didn't want me too, honestly."

"you— what?" you push out awkwardly, wincing through your confusion as you fight the fruitless battle to tear your eyes from his unnecessarily big cock and meet his bright eyes.

"you heard me," satoru hums with an easy shrug, letting out one of those all-too-familiar, almost pornographic moans when he squeezes his own hand around the leaky tip of his shaft. "...or do you not want me too?"

sighing, you raise your thumb and forefinger to rub your stressed temple, shaking your head at the sheer audacity of this man. "you're ridiculous, gojo. i was hoping you were just pretending to jerk off in here— but no, of course you actually are."

"mhmm," he groans raspily between increasingly loud squelches of his cock. wait; is your scolding only helping him get off even faster? oh, you can't make this shit up. "keep talkin' to me just like that, baby."

"first of all, don't call me baby," you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction with a scowl etching its way onto your features. "and secondly, if you're gonna do this... stuff right next-door to me, can't you atleast try to keep it down? some of us have work to do."

satoru rolls his eyes at this, as if he's somehow the one being inconvenienced here; but any real irritation quickly evaporates into pleasure when he starts fondling his heavy balls, tongue lewdly lolling out of his mouth like a bitch in heat.

"i-i'll keep quiet. shit— i'll do whatever you fuckin' want if you just... just get me over the edge here, pretty girl. hah— help a guy out, would you, roomie?"

and damn if that isn't an enticing offer. finally getting rid of the noise around here so you can actually submit a work assignment on time for once?

yeah... you're definitely on board.

"fine," you mutter, attempting to sound as uninterested as possible as you shuffle closer to the bed. "what do you want me to do, gojo? and don't even bother asking me to suck your dick or anything, because who knows the last time you properly washed that—"

satoru snorts out a strangled laugh, shaking his head quickly and peering up at you with wide, darkened cerulean eyes. "n-no... not that. just— just talk to me, please? and call me satoru, not gojo, damn."

"okay..." you huff thoughtfully, brainstorming what you can say to get this over as quickly as possible. eventually, you purr: "are you gonna be a dirty boy and make a mess all over your hand for me, satoru? hmm?"

and, to your surprise and... arousal? that's all it takes to get him to explode, thick ropes of sticky white cum trickling from the reddened tip of his cock as he whines in ecstasy.

huh. maybe your work can wait a little longer.

SUGURU GETO — THE ONE WHO MAKES YOUR PANTIES GO POOF!

suguru geto is a man of many talents.

but in his humble opinion, the one he is most proficient at? oh, it has to be stealing various pairs of his cute little roommate's panties without her even taking notice.

yeah; that's right, his entire underwear drawer is not actually filled with articles of his own clothing, but rather with scraps of material he has swiped from your room over the past few months.

"ugh, i lost another pair of panties!" comes a frustrated groan from you room; you must be on the phone to one of your friends, suguru muses. "i swear, it's like there's a black hole at the bottom of that washer or something."

ah, if only you knew.

if only you knew that while you're busy stressing over the mystery of your missing underwear, suguru is slumped just against the other side of the thin wall that separates your rooms, one of the aforementioned pairs wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock.

he does this more often than he would like to admit — waits until he hears you get on the phone to jerk himself off. why? well, because then he can listen to your pretty voice while he bucks up into his fist. that's why.

"such a clueless girl..." suguru mutters under his breath as his eyes flutter closed, letting himself get lost in the combination of the soft fabric of your panties surrounding his shaft and the sound of you speaking ringing in his ears. "has no idea where her precious underwear keeps wandering off to."

meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, you have a mischievous smile pulling at your lips as you pretend to be utterly oblivious about your panty thief to your confused friend on the other end of the phone.

as if you wouldn't work out it was suguru snatching them — after all, who else could it possibly be? but you figured it was better this way, letting him think he's holding all the cards in this situation.

it only makes it all the more enjoyable for you.

leaning a little closer to the wall, you can faintly hear the familiar sounds of him getting himself off as you slowly dip a hand beneath your own skirt; and you're not wearing underwear, of course, because you don't have a single pair left thanks to your roommate.

you end up dropping the phone carelessly to the ground when suguru's deep, satisfied groan sounds out from his room, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his orgasm swiftly brings you to your own.

so lost in your own pleasure are you that when the door softly clicks open, you don't have time to compose yourself before suguru strolls right on in, seeming much too casual for someone who just came in his hand.

"well well well," suguru hums smugly, tilting his head to the side and peering down at you with a condescending smile. "what do we have here, hmm? did you really think you could outsmart me, beautiful?"

oh.

maybe you really are clueless if you genuinely thought he didn't know you were pretending to be as such... but would it really be such a bad thing if he decides to punish you for your attempt at deception?

TOJI FUSHIGURO — THE ONE WHO NEVER PAYS RENT!

toji rarely (if ever) pays his part of the rent for your shared apartment.

he doesn't even bother trying to lie to you and tell you he'll scrounge up enough cash to cover it next time it's due, because he already knows you wouldn't buy that for a second.

so, instead, he offers you something else to keep you sated. something that he can say without a shadow of a doubt he can give to you better than anyone else could even hope to.

cock.

because if he keeps you in a perpetual state of bliss underneath the sheets of his bed, how can you possibly have any time remaining to think of such trivial things like paying the entire monthly rent on your own?

"mmm... what was i saying again, toji?" you slur, voice just delirious with pleasure as he pounds into you from behind, one strong hand effortlessly keeping your face pressed against the mattress.

"nothin', baby," toji lies easily, threading his thick fingers through the back of your hair in a distractingly tender gesture as his mean hips keep up their ruthless pace. "just relax and let y'erself feel me, yeah?"

"but—" you protest weakly, followed by an involuntary hiccup as his pudgy cockhead reaches that spongy spot inside of you once again. "i have a feeling it was important..."

"nah," he grunts dismissively, free hand snaking down to where your bodies are connected to rub messy, stimulating circles around the puffy bud that is your clit. "don't worry about it, pretty."

"...okay. if you say so." you mumble eventually, brain far too hazy from his skilful ministrations to bother putting up much of a fight against his convincing words.

toji's scarred lips spread into a victorious grin behind your back at how easily you give in. he just loves having you like this — so cockdrunk you can't even remember what you were talking about from one moment to the next.

and when the time inevitably comes for you to pay the rent on behalf of both of you yet again, he already knows you won't bat an eye; because, in the big scheme of things, what's a little cash matter if it means you get to have access to his sinful dick game whenever you so desire?

yeah... he'd say it's a pretty fair trade.

but the best part of all is that toji thinks he's the mastermind behind this little arrangement when in reality, if you were looking for a roommate who could pay their rent, you would never have picked someone who looks as jobless as he does in the first place.

but you'll continue to let him believe it was his idea; because, after all, he fucks you better when he's feeling proud of himself.

CHOSO KAMO — THE SECRETLY PERVERTED ONE!

choso doesn't mean to be perverted; not really.

but whether intentional or not, he finds himself desperate for anything that reminds him of you each time he gets himself off: a t-shirt, a pair of underwear, or even one of the cute little plushies you have lined up on your bed.

he wonders, fleetingly, what you'd think of him if you could see him humping one of your stuffed toys while you're out at work — would you be disgusted? would you kick him out and start the search for a new roommate?

or would you, just maybe... take pity on the poor boy and lend him a helping hand?

by the benevolence of some undefined higher power, choso doesn't have to mull over the answer to his question for much longer. because apparently, he was so desperate to release the desire coursing through his veins that he forgot to check the time before starting like he usually would.

so when he hears the tell-tale sign of the door opening and indicating that you've just come home from work, he has nowhere near enough time to cover up what he's been up to in your room while you were gone.

well, shit.

"hey cho, what are you doing in my— oh." comes your dumfounded voice as you peek your head around the slightly ajar doorway, eyes widening in a manner akin to a cartoon character at the sight of his sinful state.

choso blushes profusely, attempting to hide his face by ducking it into his shoulder with a muffled whimper of embarrassment. to his horror, his pathetically hard cock is fully exposed to your view, nestled between the soft limbs of one of your plushies where he had previously been thrusting.

you both stay completely silent for a few long moments, neither of you daring to move a single muscle... but it isn't long before your body is climbing onto the bed to join him before your mind can even begin to process your movements.

"w-what are you doing?... are you gonna hit me? because that would be okay, you can d-definitely hit me if you want!" choso squeaks hurriedly, peeking out from his shoulder and looking for all the word like a puppy who just got caught doing something naughty by its owner.

"i'm not gonna hit you, choso," you chuckle softly, carefully tugging your abused, slightly sticky plushie out from underneath him and tossing it away. "i wanna help you. don't you wanna try doing that to something other than a stuffed toy, hmm?"

"...oh, f-fuck!" he whines loudly, hips rutting just once against the mattress before his cock cruelly betrays him and spurts buckets of cum at the mere thought of being inside of you.

choso hides his face in shame again, figuring he must've absolutely ruined his chances with you now. because there's no way you would still want to help him after witnessing that little display, right?

wrong.

when you tug his head away from his shoulder by one of his scraggly pigtails and pull him into a searing kiss, he realizes maybe his pretty little roommate was just as perverted as him all along.

KENTO NANAMI — THE RESPECTFUL ONE!

kento is very fond of you; his sweet roommate who always wakes him up for work in the morning if he happens to accidentally oversleep and leaves him homemade dinner in the fridge to cheer him up after a late shift.

he figures these things making him feel attraction towards you is fairly normal — but it's the other, not-so-intentional things that make him go crazy for you the most.

when he spots you walking around the apartment in nothing but one of his oversized shirts and a pair of socks because your clothes are in the communal washer... or when he silently observes you bend over to grab something from the bottom cupboard in the kitchen?

yeah, those are the things that really make it hard for him not to pounce on you like some kind of feral animal.

it all comes to a crux when you come home in tears one night, babbling about your fool of a boyfriend having the audacity to cheat on you. hmph, nanami never liked him anyway.

but there's no time for petty jealousies now — no, now is the time for him to make you realize that what you've been craving has been here all along, living in the room right next-door to yours.

so he pulls you into a gentle kiss, pouring all of his pent-up affection into the gesture as he effortlessly lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, positioning himself between your spread legs.

"i want to make you forget about him, beautiful," nanami whispers, voice rough with sincereness as he places a soft peck on the corner of your lips. "may i?"

and you're nodding shakily, but it isn't enough. he reaches up with a large hand to grasp your chin in a firm yet tender grip, thumb stroking over your skin. "use your words for me, dear. come on, i know you can do it."

"y-yes. please, kento."

and that's all it takes for nanami to fall to his knees, brushing his lips over the insides of your thighs as he slowly works his way upwards. god, he's wanted to do this for so long — if for nothing else then to thank you for taking such good care of him and never asking for anything in return.

but oh, is he going to give you something in return now; specifically, in the form of his hot mouth attached to your cunt, tongue lapping up every drop of your translucent juices as if it were the finest wine on the menu of a high class restaurant.

he can't help but wonder, while he's buried nose-deep in your sweet pussy, why on earth a man would choose to cheat on a goddess such as yourself.

but he supposes it doesn't matter, if it means that he's the one who finally gets to worship at your altar from now and for as long as you'll allow him the honour of doing so.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! 🐇

>゜))彡 taglist — @rafecamerons-national-anthem @ts1mp0ne @vheavxly @enjoymyloves @tv-girllover07 @husherstan @smthabsolutelyunhinged @multisection @onlyrealjoy @hoelesslyt @nina357

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

FUCKING NOBODY:

ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOBODY EVER:

MY MOTHER TELLING ME TO STOP TALKING ABOUT MY TRANS FRIENDS, STOP TALKING ABOUT BEING GAY, STOP PULLING MY BROTHER UP ON BEING RACIST, AND GENERALLY "STOP DOING THINGS TO AGGRAVATE" MY LITERAL SELF PRONOUNCED NAZI BROTHER BECAUSE "IT JUST MAKES HIM MORE DETERMINED":

I WISH I WAS FUCKING JOKING

[batwynn]

I’ve been poked and I reacted to a bunch of things. Like every plant ever. But not fucking

POTATOES???

I’m off to go get poked by things I’m allergic to to prove I have the thing I already know I have and have 30+ years of evidence of but doctors gotta poke so if I’m away for a few days it’s because the potatoes finally got me.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Love is a Verb

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 3k words

warnings/tags: fluff, allusions to smut, Simon gets in his feelings™️

It was the first time that you dropped a plate stacked high with heart-shaped pancakes in front of him, that you realized just how much Simon had been starved for love in his life.

“What’s this?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, staring down at his plate as though it were a bomb in need of defusing.

“Breakfast? You’d mentioned pancakes the other day and I’ve been craving ‘em since.” You shrug, walking back towards the stovetop where the next batch are waiting to be flipped over.

“They’re- you’ve never-” You glance back over your shoulder at him, watching as he appears to struggle to find the words for what he means to say. He looks almost out of place, his large, hulking frame sitting at a breakfast table with flowers adorning it (he’s the one that brought you that bouquet, of course), his bed head on full display. “You’ve never made ‘em like this before.”

“What, like hearts?” You giggle, scooping up the last of the breakfast onto a plate, making your way back to the table, seeing Simon give you a nod in confirmation. “I just wanted spread some love to my love. Is that alright?”

Setting your plate down next to his, you go to take a seat before you feel two muscular arms wrapping around your middle, pulling you backwards and seating you onto his strong lap.

“‘Course s’alright.” He mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss wherever his lips may land on you. From those two words alone, you can tell his throat is getting scratchy, and you almost think you hear the slightest sniffle coming from him. You can’t help the surprised blush that creeps through you. You weren’t expecting him to react this way. You’re willing to bet he also wasn’t expecting to react this way.

Knowing that communicating, as well as understanding, his feelings isn’t something that always comes with ease for Simon, you decide to give him a moment, not wanting to put him on the spot. You spread some maple syrup across your stack, tilting it in the direction of his plate and receiving a grunt of confirmation before you drizzle some onto his as well. Taking your cutlery in hand, enjoy your breakfast in quiet bliss, taking turns feeding bites to yourself and your shadow behind you, always receiving a loving squeeze to your thigh after each piece you slip between his lips.

“Mum never made anythin’ like this.” His revelation arrives just as your chewing on your last bite, stomachs content, hearts even more full. You can count on one hand the amount of times Simon has brought up his family to you. You’re aware of the circumstances, and while you don’t know every detail (nor do you need to), he has over time opened up to you about what happened. “Not ‘cause she didn’t love us. I think she would’ve if she-” he clears his throat, and you readjust yourself in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulders, rubbing reassuring circles into the muscles your hands come across.

You don’t want to overwhelm him by looking at him as he opens himself up to you, but you want to reassure him that you’re listening, you’re here with him. He can tell you as much or as little as he wants to, and you’ll listen.

“Beth did though. Once or twice.” He adds, resting his chin atop your head, running a hand through your hair. “I mean, I’m sure she did it more than that but, I saw her do it, once or twice. For Joseph.” Your grip around him tightens ever so gently at the mention of his late sister-in-law and nephew. You’ve never seen a picture of the boy, but you can just picture him, a small little blond head of hair, maybe with eyes like his, running around, keeping his young parents busy. Knowing the fate his family endured, a shiver runs through you, but you don’t let it overcloud the moment that Simon is sharing with you. Certainly not when it appears he’s thinking of them fondly right now, reflecting on his past with a happy lens.

“I’m sure he must’ve loved it.” You whisper into the skin of his neck, sending goose bumps sprawling across the flesh.

“He did. Tommy too.” At that he gives a slight chuckle, shaking the two of you. “Even when we were younger, he could always eat us out of house and home. Was like you couldn’t get anything to stick to his bones, either, that kid. More than half the time I wound up shop liftin’ it was to feed his skinny arse.” You sit there together for a moment, holding one another, basking in the newest glimpse of his past that Simon has just offered you.

“They would’ve loved you.” He mumbles into your hair, emotion evident in his voice, his grip on you tightening desperately, as though you two might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold you close enough. “Think you would’a liked em as well.” At that you pull away from his shoulder, slipping your hands to cradle each side of his face, bringing his forehead to meet yours.

“They loved you, Si. Of course I would love them too.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to each corner of his mouth, the top of his nose, each closed eyelid, before returning to his mouth.

It’s the next week when you decide to finally tackle the last of the moving boxes. You and Simon finally moved in together a few months ago now, and Simon seems to have placed more priority on ‘christening every room’ (also known as fucking you senseless over each and every available surface in the place) over unpacking.

The handful of boxes that are left are more of the miscellaneous, don’t really have anywhere to put them, sort of items that you can’t exactly part with but don’t have any real use for. Most of it being your stuff. His time in the military has left him without a need for many material items, and so you’re surprised to find a smaller box shoved to the back of the pile labeled as ‘Simon’.

Upon opening it, you find it contains a variety of what appears to be memorabilia he’s collected throughout his time in the military, small souvenirs from his travels, old folded up uniforms, and what not. But slipped between two folded shirts, you can feel something more sturdy. Carefully slipping it out of the box, you discover a frame containing a multitude of medals.

In spite of being in love with a Lieutenant, your knowledge of the military is still slim. You don’t recognize any of the medals shining up at you, but they are numerous, and you can tell they must be incredibly important, something he’s worked so hard to earn. Why is he keeping this tucked away?

“Hey Si!” You shout in hopes that he’s near enough to hear you.

“What are you up to now, mischief?” He asks, his tone playful as you hear his footsteps approaching. “Christ, we’ve still boxes left?”

“Acting as if you don’t purposefully walk around them every day.” You tease back, rolling your eyes at him. You stand up, turning to face him with the frame clutched to your chest. He takes you in and raises a brow in question as to your discovery. “What are these?”

He steps closer to glance at what you’re holding, shoulders tensing for a moment before releasing, letting out a deep sigh.

“Ah. S’nothin’.” He tries to reach to take it out of your grip, but you swing your arms behind your back, hiding it from his grasp.

“What do you mean nothing? Doesn’t look like nothing to me, mister award winner.”

“They’re not- I don’t-” he seems to struggle with his words, and it’s only then that you realize perhaps he doesn’t view these medals in the same way you do.

“Do you not like ‘em?” You ask, bringing the frame back around to your front, glancing down at them with a more quizzical eye this time.

“I just- I’m not always proud of how I earned em, love.” He attempts to explain, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Some I reckon’ I don’t mind but- all just seems unnecessary to me. I did my job, all there is to it.”

“Are these like, the kind they have big ceremonies for and then someone pins them on you in front of everyone?”

“Somethin’ like that.” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his large chest.

“And let me guess, you never attended any of them?”

“Don’t need all the fanfare, lovie.” He says, stepping forward and slowly slipping the frame from your grasp, tossing it back into the box you’d found it in. “All I need’s right here.”

“I just wish you’d let yourself be celebrated sometimes too, Si…”

“Well if it’s celebratin’ my birdie is wantin’, how’s bout we go celebrate with you on top of the washing machine eh? Don’t think I’ve made you cum up there yet.” You roll your eyes at his changing of the subjects, but can’t contain the giggle that erupts out of you when he swings you over his shoulder, apparently having decided the laundry room is exactly where you two are going now. “Just put a load in the machine, only right I put a load in here too.” He adds with a smack to your ass.

You’re worried you’re about to make an absolute fool out of yourself. No, you’re sure you’re about to look like an idiot. You know how much that man loves you, but even this might be exaggerating. Glancing at the clock above the stove however, you know it’s now or never. The candles around the room have been lit, the lights are dimmed, his favourite meal is cooking in the oven, soft music is playing from the record player, you’re wearing Simon’s favourite dress on you, and you even went as far as to spruce up your hair and makeup for this. In theory, everything is perfectly set up and in its place.

So why then, do you feel so mortified as you hear the sound of keys jingling the lock at the front door? Oh right, because it’s him you’ve set this all up for.

“Hi sweetheart,” he shouts to you as he walks in, too preoccupied with removing his boots and gear to look up yet. “Smells really good, what’s-” He cuts himself off upon walking into the kitchen, eyes landing on the unusual scene before him. You watch as his irises glance around the room, taking it all in, before landing on you. He’s still stood a few feet away from you, but you swear you can see his pupils dilate as his eyes roam up and down your figure.

“Hi.” You whisper meekly to him, wringing your hands nervously behind your back.

“Hi.” He answers back, taking an apprehensive step towards you. “What’s all this then?”

“First you have to go get dressed.” You inform him, jutting your chin in the direction of your shared bedroom. The small smile working its way onto his face helps boost your confidence, nerves slowly dissipating.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. Even laid out your clothes for you, so you don’t have to think about it.”

“We goin’ somewhere?” He asks, beginning to undo his belt already. The movement catches your attention, likely his intention, and his smirk widens upon seeing you blush.

“Nope. We’re just celebrating at home.”

At this, he freezes his movements, belt halfway slipped out of his belt loops. His gaze scans your face, looking for anything he might have missed.

“Shit. Did I- did I forget something, baby? I did-”

“No, no no no!” You cut him off with a slight giggle, coming up to him now to lay your palms across his chest. “No, you’re okay Si. You didn’t forget anything, I’m just surprising you.” You reassure him, knowing that he only calls you baby when he’s worried he’s in trouble (or when he’s already in trouble, crouched between your thighs attempting to earn his way out of the dog house).

“You didn’t have to do any of this love.” He says, hands pulling the rest of his belt out, before he loops it around you, using it to pull you even closer to him.

“You don’t even know what I’ve done yet, mister. We’ll see if you still like me in a bit.” You stand up on your tippy toes, planting a kiss to his Adam’s apple, fingers reaching up to slowly lift the skull printed balaclava off his face. Your lips follow each inch of skin revealed as you finally slip the fabric off his visage, exposing the face of the man you love. “Now go get dressed before I change my mind.”

With a kiss to the forehead and a squeeze to the bum, your man releases you from his grasp to obediently follow your command, making his way towards the bedroom. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you turn towards the cabinets, pulling out the secret you’d been hiding, the reason you’re doing any of this.

Minutes later, Simon is walking back into the room, dressed in form fitting black dress pants, and his large hands are finishing up the last few buttons of his white button-up shirt, the buttons appearing minuscule in his grasp. Your eyes land on his figure, and suddenly the smell of the food in the oven isn’t why your mouth is salivating so much. He glances up at you, eyes meeting and each of you fights off a small blush and a shy smile, as though you’re seeing your dates for the prom for the first time.

“You’re so handsome, Si.” You tell him, stepping closer to him.

“Think you’re just desensitized to me at this point, love.” He attempts to deflect, but you see the blush deepening across his pale cheeks. “Besides, I oughta be kissing the ground you walk on birdie, just look at ya…” He reaches a hand out towards yours, spinning you around gracefully, taking the time to admire you entirely.

The look in his eyes is glazing over, as he licks his lips, eyes unable to tear away from each inch of skin you have exposed. You’re equally become as hot and bothered, but you’ve got a goal tonight, and you want to see it through, for his sake.

“Before dinner, I uh- I wanted to do something for you.” You say, stepping back enough that your backside meets the edge of the counter top. Your hands feel behind you for what you’re looking for, hoping he can’t see what you’re attempting to conceal for just a little longer. “I don’t need to explain to you how hard you work, everywhere you go, you’re always taking care of others, Si. And you don’t get even nearly as much thanks as you should, and-”

“Love,” he tries to cut you off, stepping closer to you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hold on, I really want to say this. To do this.” He nods at your interjection, accepting to hear you through. “Ever since I met you, you’ve changed my life Simon Riley, and I know I’m not the only person in the world who can say that. You are a good man, a hero to many, a leader to others. You’re just- you are good, Si. I promise you are.”

You can’t help the emotion beginning to seep into your voice now, but it’s important to you that he hears every word you have to tell him, and that he knows you mean them.

“I don’t know everything you’ve done, and I don’t want to. Your job terrifies me, and every time you walk out the door I’m scared you’re going to get hurt but- you’re so good at what you do, Simon. They couldn’t do it without you. You’re important, you’re needed.” At this, you slip the frame of medals out from behind your back, bringing them in front of you for Simon to see. “That’s what these are, at least in my eyes. They’re reminders that you’re meant to be doing what you’re doing, but most importantly, they also mean you made it back. You made it back to me.”

His warm hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear that’s spilled over your lashes, his palm staying to cup your cheek affectionately.

“You’re right, we don’t need all the fanfare, all we need is right here. But some occasions call for a celebration. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll let me put these on you? Just once, just this one time, I just- I need you to know how important you and your accomplishments are to me.”

Wordlessly, he nods to you, his own eyes appearing to be brimming with emotion. Sniffling, you turn the frame over, opening up the back before carefully slipping it off. Your fingers gingerly pick up the first medal they find, bringing it up to his firm chest. You look into his eyes once more, ensuring that this is okay with him. All you see in his gaze is pure, undeniable love. One hand reaches between the fabric of his shirt and the warm, scarred skin across his pec, as the other brings the medal to the front of the button-up. With all the devotion and tenderness in the world, you secure the medal to his front, slowly slinking your hands away to see if it’ll stay in its place.

When the medal does not budge, you repeat the process over with the remaining medals, until one side of his shirt is significantly weighed down compared to the other side, and both your hearts are bursting with affection for the human being stood before you. Sliding your now empty hands up his shoulders, his calloused palms resting on either side of your waist, his eyes communicate to you everything that his lips will never need to tell you. You know him. And you know what you mean to him. That’s why as he shuts his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead, you find yourself whispering the sentence you hope to tell him every day of your life:

“I love you too.”

[loves0phelia]

hello! hope you’re okay after the ending, honestly I don’t think any of us are.

I wanted to request a rafe x pogue reader where it’s that boat storm scene and instead of Sarah falling it’s reader and she’s just drowning and Rafe jumps in after her. He doesn’t know why he did it but he just has a soft spot for her and it’s just really angsty but also cute.

thanks! I love your account btw!

In The Sea

Summery: the anon

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A\N: thank you to everyone who has been requesting it makes me very happy xxx

You stand at the edge of the deck, clutching the railing as the boat rocks, waves rolling against the hull. The salty breeze whips your hair around your face, and the peaceful ocean sounds made you think about the current situation.

You didn't expect Rafe to save you and your friends from being arrested, much less expect him to find a boat big and resistant enough to drive you all to Morocco Africa to find the blue crown. It was truly a surprise considering you and Rafe's history.

“So what? Are we just on our way to Africa now?” Kiara asked the group as if she couldn't believe that Rafe Cameron was willingly helping them.

“Quick little weekend trip?” She added to her previous sentence.

“What about Rafe? We know what he did to the cross and now we want to go after the crown with him?” You and the rest of the pogue's lips go into a thin line at the memory.

“Sarah, you're his family, how do deal with him” John B said, finding no other options.

“I don't- I don't know, I think maybe y/n might have a chance of convincing him to behave but..” she shrugged and you felt the stares of your friends burn holes through you. Your past relationship with him was a secret to nobody.

“We- we just have to talk to him, or at least try” You proposed earning a frown from JJ.

“Talk to Rafe? When has he ever just communicated with us?” 

“Talking to him is the only option we have, but you're definitely not talking with him,” John B said and as expected everyone nodded and hummed, agreeing. JJ was in no place to talk with Rafe.

“Why not? What did I do?” He asked, getting almost frustrated.

“We all know you and him are far from being civil, the last thing we need is you triggering him and causing trouble” His girlfriend, Kiara, tried to explain the easiest way but he still got defensive. After a couple of bickering from JJ and John b You finally decide to go speak with him, who was driving the boat not too far away from the deck.

“Hey,” You knock on the metal and rusted door before entering and walking up to him. His eyes catch yours and there's a tension between the two of you. But Rafe only tilts his head to acknowledge you.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his stare. "We just want to talk," you say, steadying your voice as the rest of your friends beside JJ follow behind you.

“All right let's talk” Rafe chuckles, and it’s low, almost a whisper. 

Your mind goes almost blank as you take him in, you haven't been this close since you were forced in the same room by Sighs men last year. You had almost forgotten how much you missed him.

“You guys be cool I'll be cool” His voice snapped you out of your daydream, realizing you had missed a bit of the conversation.

“So now you want peace?” Pope leaned back and scoffed, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

“I just saved all your asses, how about a thank you?” He glanced at all of you one by one, but he only earned silence,

“Listen I don't want any part of your little fairytale treasure hunt bullshit, I'm just looking for Groff” He’s breathing heavily, holding himself back from adding more snark,

“Hey, Rafe!” Before anyone can react, JJ’s fist flies through the air, cracking against Rafe’s jaw with a force that echoes.

Rafe’s head snaps back, his expression stunned for a split second before he crumples, hitting the hard metal floor. For a moment, everyone is frantic, staring at the lifeless form sprawled across the floor, his eyes closed, completely knocked out.

“holy shit”

“Jesus JJ what's your problem”

“Whoo that felt good” Tired of JJ's crazy actions the girls walk away shaking their heads in disbelief until you are the only one staying behind.

JJ stands over him, breathing heavily, the adrenaline still pulsing through him as he looks down at Rafe. His fist is red, already bruising, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“What is wrong with you?” You look at him, feeling a rush of shock mixed with panic. You fall to your knees next to Rafe and quickly look over his injuries, softly rubbing your thumb on his jaw.   “If he didn't do it I was going to do it” Pope added only worsening the situation. You shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows at his sentence.

After the pogues agreed it was probably not a good idea to let Rafe free in case he woke up and decided to shoot you all with his “peacemaker” you tied him up in a small cabin. His head hung low, his wrists were bound to a stainless steel pole and his legs were uncomfortably folded beneath him. Your heart clenched at the sight of him but still decided to leave him there until he woke up.

You open the door to the cabin slowly with a tray of warmed-up canned spaghetti in hand, it wasn't the best but it was all the boat had.

“I brought you food..” You whispered before bending down to place the tray in front of him.

“great” he sighed.

“I found aspirin in the medicine cabinet, I figured you'd have a headache, maybe even a concussion” 

“Right… are you gonna throw it in my mouth like a seal or something” He scoffed again clearly angered,

“They don't trust you Rafe… but if you do the right thing maybe they will open up a little bit”

“I am doing the right thing! I helped you” He tried pulling against the restraints but failed. 

“I know okay? I know but unfortunately, I don't have a choice but to let you in here until we get there, I'm sorry” you whispered and pushed the tray closer to him. “Please eat,” You said and left closing the large door behind you.

For a moment you stayed behind the door listening closely. “Y/N come back!” he grunts and kicks his feet on the ground. “Fucking untie me please!!” he screamed and you jumped when you heard the tray you had just put down on the floor fly into the wall.

Pope leaning over the side, is the first to spot the flicker of movement beneath the water. "Guys! I see one!" exclaims, his voice a mixture of excitement and focus. He scrambles for the fishing rod, almost knocking over the tackle box in his rush.

John B is right beside him, laughing. “We've got our dinner!" he laughs.

“Guys, this one’s huge!” Kie giggles with the boys knowing we were all set for dinner time tonight.

You all spent the rest of the day cooking the fish you caught and preparing side dishes with some good music in the background.

Until it was time for Rafa's second meal.

You open the door carefully and his eyes catch yours, this time you don't speak, simply set the tray of seasoned salmon down in front of him.

Has you were about to close the door you hear him.

“Wait, y/n. Can you please- can you give me the fork” his tone is much softer than before so you can't deny him. 

You get down and pick up the utensil his bound hands couldn’t reach.

“Thank you” He murmured, and you barely heard him as you closed the door behind you once again.

The sky darkens ominously as thunder rumbles in the distance, low and threatening. Waves crash harder against the hull of the boat, tossing it with a force that leaves you gripping onto anything within reach. The storm monitor flashes red to show the storm coming ahead of you.

“That's not good,” John B says.

“We're gonna have to try to blast through it,” Pope says, not finding any better options.

“Why can't we go south?” Kie asks genuinely.

“The current is gonna be against us we don't have a choice” John B agreed even after trying to find safer options, the boat's roar has Pope push the lever controlling the engine to the max. 

The waves make the boat shift side to side making it difficult to stay up and steady.

Another massive wave crashes over the side, drenching them all, and you lose your footing, sliding across the deck until Kie grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Hold on to something” Kie yells at you pope and Sarah and you all grip onto the nearest thing.

“Hey!” a distant voice echoes through the walls.

“Cut me loose! Y/N! Somebody!” Rafe screamed and banged his fists on the wall.

“Get me out of here!” Everyone listens but doesn't move a finger.

“We have to let him out” You scramble to your feet but jerk back when Cleo grabs your wrist.

“No!” she says trying to stop you but you pulled back.

“He's gonna drown” You pull open rapidly the drawers trying to find something sharp, able to cut the thick ropes wrapped around Rafe's hands.

The storm is relentless, its fury tossing you around like a rag doll as you try to reach him.  

You cling to the railing, struggling to stay upright as the boat lurches violently, nearly sending you sprawling across the floor. Your legs buckle under you. You come crashing through the door and walk onto the water-soaked floor knife in hand.

“Cut me loose” he begs.

Crouching in front of him you began frantically cutting the rope. Your muscles burn with how much pressure you're using.

“Shit,” You say when a sudden jerk of the boat makes your face come inches apart from his, lips almost touching. You don't have time to think as you regain your balance and continue cutting the bounds.

“There! Come on” you yelled and quickly grasped his hands to pull him up from the floor.

You both run to shelter but the boat jerks side to side even more violently,

“Something is wrong I have to go see!” 

“No!” Rafe tried holding on to you but you were already rushing away onto the deck where waves came crashing, a massive wave rose out of the dark, towering over the boat like a shadow.

You barely had time to think before it crashed down, an icy, unforgiving wall of water that slammed into you with the force of a sledgehammer. The impact was too strong and you were thrown backward, landing hard on the deck. Pain explodes through your shoulder, the wind knocks from your lungs. Dazed and gasping, you try to get up, but the boat tips again, and before you can stand, another wave strikes.

This one is worse, merciless, catching you just as you struggle to rise. Your fingers graze the edge of the railing, but the slick metal slips through your grasp. In an instant, the world spins as you are thrown away from the boat, the cold, raging ocean swallowing you whole.

The water is a shock, freezing and chaotic, disorienting you as you plunge beneath the surface. You thrash, fighting to reach the surface, lungs burning, but the waves toss you back and forth, each effort to rise met with another rush of icy water.

Back on the boat, Rafe catches a glimpse of you disappearing over the side, and his heart stops. “Y/N!” he screams, panic cutting through the storm. Without a second thought, he scrambles to the railing, nearly slipping himself as he peers out into the dark, searching for any sign of you.

“Where is she!” Sarah came rushing to her brother

“She fell overboard” he yells already reaching for a rope with the floating boyee. He’s soaked, exhausted, and barely steady, but there’s no hesitation as he jumps in after you.

“Rafe no!” She screams after her brother.

A wave slams into Rafe. “Y/N!!” he yells in the water as he sees you trying to stay above the water far away.

With the last of your strength, You swim faster and harder towards Rafe and reach out when you're near, fingers brushing his arm, grasping it tight. Rafe holds you with everything he has.

“I got you” But you don't hear him in the storm.

You both hold on to each other your arms around his neck and his around your waist as the boat floats away and the night turns into a void.

“Hey, open your eyes, look at me” You feel gentle hands grasping on your face as you finally sit up coughing out the water that filled your lungs.

“That's it” The hands rub your back in a comforting way.

The sand is hot beneath you, warming up your skin, and with exhaustion, you fall onto Rafe's chest.

“Hey you okay?” panicked, he grabs onto your shoulder and pushes you a little bit to take a good look at your face.

“You jumped after me,” you whispered.

“Of course I did”  You look up at him, heart pounding, feeling a rush of gratitude, fear, and something deeper—something that’s been smouldering beneath the surface, unspoken, for far too long. Your eyes shine with tears, not sad and not happy either but grateful. 

His hand reaches up, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you feel your heart racing even faster under his gaze, intense and unreadable, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Without another thought, you lean in, closing the space between the two of you as you press your lips to his, a spark igniting into a wildfire the moment you connect. Rafe’s surprise melts away instantly, and he kisses back, fierce and unrestrained, his hands finding your waist.

The kiss is charged, fueled by adrenaline, and a longing that neither of you can deny any longer. Your hands find his shoulders, clinging to him, grounding you in his warmth, his strength, the feel of his heartbeat thundering beneath your touch. 

Rafe’s fingers trail up your back, sending shivers along your spine, and his lips move against yours with an urgency that speaks of everything left unspoken.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, Rafe’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes searching yours as he lets out a shaky laugh, almost in disbelief.

“You saved my life” you smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your lips. “I love you, I've always loved you” you whisper, and before you know it, you're kissing again, the ocean waves crashing nearby, the world forgotten as you lose yourselves in each other.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Send request xxx

[amaranthinespirit]

christmas with simon riley (happy holidays <3)

simon had never spent christmas with anyone before. his home situation growing up was never the best, and he never had a good enough relationship to stick around to during the holidays.

despite this, simon is the best gift giver, and you're honestly surprised this is his first time celebrating the holiday.

he's extremely attentive, some things he got you were things you had completely forgotten about, but he didn't forget. he's the type to note down everything that had interested you throughout the year, and if not given for your birthday, it was going under the tree (the one he insisted he'd chop down himself).

and he didn't expect anything in return, actually he insisted that you didn't get him a gift because "already got wot'i want," he'd shrug, telling you that you're all he needed, and it was true. he was perfectly content with all that he had.

but come christmas morning, after breakfast was in the oven and wrapping paper scattering the floors, there was only one gift left, and it didn't have your name on it.

simon's brows furrowed as he eyed the little wrapped box behind your back, pink wrapping paper and a white frilly bow with a skull sticker stuck to the box. undoubtedly for him.

your hands were clammy, handing over the small box that dwarfed in his tentative hands. he took it, but not without a small murmur, "told'ya not t'get me anythin', love."

you only shushed him as he gently tore the wrapping, eyes boring into the plain, grey box before he slid the top off. you were anxiously bouncing on your feet for his reaction, watching the way he froze as his eyes locked on the contents of the little box.

you fiddled with your hands, you couldn't see his reaction because of the way his head was tilted down, and it wasn't until you sat next to him did you see stray tears streaming from your eyes.

"si...?" you asked quietly. you weren't sure how he would react, you had discussed it before, but the conversation would always drop.

he turned to you, eyes glossed over with the corners of his lips upturned, wrapping his arms tightly around you. clenched fists against your back, and in one of them, the positive pregnancy test you gifted him.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere soldier with Stockholm syndrome

Part Two of Yandere Soldier

Yandere Soldier - Stockholm Syndrome

Yandere! Solider who can't get you to talk to him. You'll sit curled in the corner of the bed, resolutely looking anywhere but at him.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you books, flowers, even old picture albums he finds stashed at the bottom of your cupboard. And still nothing but silence.

Yandere! Soldier who's beginning to think nothing will ever break it. That he's stilled that vicious tongue of yours forever. Who hates himself for what he's done, but what choice did he have? Yes, he's taken you from your home and family and all that was familiar. But was an interrogation room really the better option?

Yandere! Soldier who comes home with a nasty cut all across his arm. Some dumb kid got smart and slashed him when his back was turned and now he's forced into recovery leave for a week.

At first, you just watch him struggle to change his bandages. But something about his injury, this reminder of mortality, sticks with you. You pluck the roll of bandages straight out of his hand and wrap his injury for him.

Yandere! Soldier who stays frozen while you work, terrified of frightening you away. Who basks in the intimacy of it - your bowed head, the delicate smell of your perfume, the pulse fluttering at your throat.

Yandere! Soldier who has to swallow and breathe before he can find his voice again.

Спасибо

Thank you.

You shrug and let go of his arm. Yandere! Soldier who hates to loose your touch. Who wants to pull you back and force you to cradle his face in your palms. But he doesn't want to ruin this tiny bit of progress.

Yandere! Soldier who fills the silence with his stories. Who tells you about his training, his childhood, the places he's been deployed to and how happy he was to leave them. Who teaches you words in his native language, even if you don't bother repeating them.

Yandere! Soldier who comes home exhausted and aching, who sprawls on the bed with a groan and instinctively reaches for you.

Yandere! Soldier who has to bite back a yelp of surprise when he feels your climb onto his back and straddle his waist. You slowly knead at his muscles, massaging away all the knots and tension and lingering aches.

Yandere! Soldier who has to stifle a moan because it feels so damn good.

Yandere! Soldier who finds you waiting at the door the next morning, still as quiet as a monk. He's immediately suspicious. Are you going to make a run for it? Instead you stand on your tip toes and press a quick, uncertain kiss to his cheek.

Yandere! Soldier who keeps touching the place you kissed him, even when it's hidden under his mask.

Yandere! Soldier who cooks you dinner most nights, even if he's dog tired, even if all you do is push it around your plate.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you news of the city and the war effort. The resistance is faltering, it's leaders hunted and put down like dogs. Part of him hopes the news will make you more pliant. Why fight the inevitable?

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't like the way your eyes get hard when he talks about the resistance, the way you clench your jaw and look away from him.

You mutter something and it takes him a moment to decipher it.

"I should be out there with them."

Yandere! Soldier who tries and fails to contain his anger. Who grabs your jaw and pulls you up to face him.

"If you were out there, you'd be dead. Can't you be thankful?"

You're quiet again after that and he stops bringing it up.

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't leave anything sharp around the apartment, but is still surprised when you ask him to trim your hair. He sits on the bed with you between his knees, carefully filtering the hair through his fingers. You're so close to him - willingly - that it makes him feel almost lightheaded.

Yandere! Soldier who carefully dusts the cuttings off you and is secretly pleased when you don't flinch away.

Yandere! Soldier who isn't sure how to react when you start greeting him at the door. At first he watches you warily, expecting you to bolt the second you can. But for some reason you don't and a part of him insists that you're starting to like it here.

Yandere! Soldier who exercises every evening, his shirt off and his black fatigues slung low on his hips. He likes it when you watch him and he'll usually throw in a few extra push-ups just to impress you. He complains that he doesn't have enough weight around for his workouts and you take to draping yourself across his back when he needs it.

Yandere! Soldier who finds himself craving you, even with your cold silence. Who is constantly aware of you around the apartment and has to force himself to look away.

Yandere! Soldier who turns off all the electricity in the dead of winter and claims it was damaged in the fighting. It's icy cold in old buildings like this and it doesn't take long for it to wear you down. Soon you're curled up against him, glaring at him to keep his hands to himself.

And he does, for the most part.

Yandere! Soldier who wakes up to you sobbing, your face pressed into his chest. He tries to soothe you, but you flinch away. You whisper between the sobs, sounding afraid and hateful and needy all at once.

"I love you..."

Yandere! Soldier who instantly understands what's happened. He's spent the better part of his life in war zones afterall, and it's more common than you'd think. Yandere! Soldier who secretly hoped for this outcome all along.

Yandere! Soldier who soothes you as best he can, stroking your hair until your sobs turn to whimpers. He presses his lips to your forehead and tells you to relax, that this was bound to happen, that's it's not your fault.

Yandere! Soldier who holds you in his scarred arms and knows that he's finally caught you, body and soul. Who says the words you long for but dread hearing.

я тоже тебя люблю

"I love you too."

[tender-rosiey]

MOOOOOOREE SUKUNA WITH HIS SHY DAUGHTER🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

lull — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: this idea holds a special place in my heart (also am i back? who knows)

your daughter squirms restlessly in her futon, her tiny hands clutching the edges of her blanket.

she’s been unusually fussy tonight, her soft murmurs rising each time you try to ease her into slumber.

you sit beside her, brushing a hand through her fine hair. “d/n,” you murmur gently, “it’s time to sleep.”

she shakes her head, her lips trembling in that way that precedes a fit of tears. “mama stay,” she whispers, her wide eyes glistening.

you sigh, glancing toward the doorway where sukuna leans, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the room.

his usual scowl is firmly in place, his arms crossed as he watches the scene unfold with thinly veiled impatience.

“she won’t settle,” you say softly, your voice carrying a tinge of exasperation. “it’s been almost an hour.”

sukuna raises an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flicking between you and the tiny, restless figure on the futon. “she’s three,” he grunts. “just tell her to sleep.”

“oh, yes, because commanding a toddler works so well,” you reply dryly, shooting him a look. “why don’t you try?”

his eyes narrow. “me?”

“yes, you.” you stand, brushing off your kimono. “she’s your daughter too, isn’t she?”

sukuna clicks his tongue, clearly displeased, but he doesn’t protest further. he steps into the room, his presence overwhelming the small space.

your daughter freezes, her wide eyes locking onto him as she clutches her blanket tighter. she’s always been shy around him, despite—or perhaps because of—his imposing nature.

you stifle a smile as you watch the scene unfold, stepping back to lean against the doorway.

“go on,” you urge, folding your arms. “show me how the mighty king of curses handles bedtime.”

he glares at you but kneels beside your daughter’s futon.

she stares up at him, her small frame looking even tinier next to his broad shoulders. for a moment, neither of them moves, the silence stretching taut between them.

sukuna finally exhales through his nose, his expression softening—just barely. “d/n,” he says, his deep voice unusually gentle, “it’s time to sleep.”

she blinks at him, her grip on the blanket loosening slightly. “not sleepy,” she mumbles, her voice barely audible.

sukuna frowns, glancing over his shoulder at you.

you shrug, clearly enjoying his discomfort. he turns back to your daughter, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and awkwardness.

“close your eyes,” he tries again, his tone more commanding this time.

her bottom lip wobbles. “no…”

you bite back a laugh, and sukuna shoots you a murderous glare. he sits back on his heels, clearly at a loss. then, as if remembering something, his gaze flicks to you again.

“she likes when you sing to her,” you offer helpfully, knowing full well how he’ll react.

his scowl deepens. “I don’t sing.”

“well, tonight you do,” you reply, your grin widening. “come on, sukuna. you’re her father. she’ll fall asleep in no time.”

he looks like he’d rather fight a dozen curses barehanded than follow your suggestion, but your daughter’s soft, expectant gaze leaves him with little choice.

he sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair before turning back to the little girl.

“what do you want me to sing?” he asks gruffly, his voice low.

she hesitates, her tiny fingers playing with the edge of her blanket. “lullaby?” she whispers, her eyes darting to you for reassurance.

you nod encouragingly at her, then at sukuna. “go on,” you urge. “she’s waiting.”

he grumbles under his breath but clears his throat.

the sound is awkward, hesitant—so unlike the confident and domineering man you know. your daughter watches him intently, her wide eyes filled with curiosity.

he begins, his deep voice rough at first, as if the act of singing is foreign to him. but as he continues, his tone evens out, and the melody flows smoother.

it’s a simple tune, one you’ve hummed countless times to your daughter, but hearing it from sukuna feels different.

your daughter’s eyelids begin to droop, her small body relaxing under the soothing tone of his voice. her hand rests on his knee, gripping it ever so slightly.

you can’t help but smile, your heart swelling at the sight of sukuna—fearsome, unyielding sukuna—softened by the presence of your child.

as the lullaby comes to an end, sukuna’s voice trails off, and the room falls silent. your daughter is fast asleep, her breathing slow and steady.

sukuna watches her for a moment, his crimson eyes unreadable. then, almost hesitantly, he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from her face.

“she’s asleep,” he mutters, his voice quiet.

you step forward, kneeling beside him. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

his eyes flit up to yours as he glares at you. “you won’t speak of this ever again, you hear?”

“of course,” you say, though the smile tugging at your lips suggests otherwise.

sukuna rises to his feet, his towering form casting a shadow over the futon.

he looks down at your daughter, his expression softening in a way that you have become used to whenever it involved your daughter.

without a word, he turns and strides toward the door, pausing only to glance back at you. “you coming?” he asks.

you gently pet your daughter’s head before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. you look at him and smile, “yeah.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will sneeze in your face

check out my buy me a coffee!

[planetaryupscaled]

Fabricated Persona

Male Reader x Wonyoung

Tags: 28k, smut, anal, creampie, oral, dub con, tw

The story is not ours; we are simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

It was 1:32 a.m. when the doorbell rang. Curious, I went to the door and peered through the peep hole. Wonyoung was standing outside the door. It took a moment just to admire her pretty face, she was gorgeous.

I unlocked the door, but before I could greet her properly, Wonyoung had pushed past me and made a beeline for our kitchen. I closed the door hastily and followed her, just in time to see her bend over our sink. Several of my lustful fantasies were given a sharp kick in the groin. She raised her arm and waved angrily at me as I stood awkwardly in the hallway.

“Where’s my sister?”

“Sleeping.”

“Get over here,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Hold my hair back!” she hissed.

I approached her from behind and grabbed the bunched hair she was holding in her right hand. I turned on the faucet and let it run. Wonyoung seemed to react to the sound of running water and sighed, bending over the sink and pushing her ass into my crotch, unconsciously, I think.

“If you think you can make it,” I said, ignoring the warmth of her behind, “I can take you to the bathroom. I don’t want you to clog the sink.” She gave an annoyed groan. “Fine then,” I said, sweeping more of her hair behind her ears as we both leaned over the sink, waited for her to get sick again. “Fun night?” I inquired.

“Oh fuck you,” she grumbled, placing her hands on the sink’s rim and relaxing a little. “I didn’t know you were back in town,” I said.

“Stop talking,” she grunted. I realized that Wonyoung was drunk, and it probably took as long as it did for me to realize it because I was gradually sobering up. I realized, however, that she was probably more drunk than I’d thought, and I reminded myself not to let her fall asleep with us in this precariously impolitic situation.

Wonyoung heaved. The strain on her body drove her ass backward into my groin forcing me to reach out to keep from tipping off my feet. I grabbed, unsurprisingly, at the prominent curve of her anatomy, her right breast.

She didn't shrug me off because she was probably too drunk to care. I used the handhold to get myself back on my feet but then, failing to be slapped, I kept my hand where it was. Wonyoung groaned as she leaned over the sink, ass straight out. I realized too late that I was unapologetically copping a feel.

Was it worth it? Definitely. It reacted against my fingers with a springy vitality, its swollen roundness so elegantly pronounced on an attractive woman in this inelegant state. I squeezed. Here this poor girl was trying to barf in my sink and I groped her like any drunken frat boy. Call me an asshole, I regret nothing.

I gave one more tentative squeeze before she swatted my hand away. My dick stirred in my pants and I hoped that she didn’t feel it, or was too far gone to care.

“I’m fine!” she barked. She must have thought I was trying to keep her on her feet. “Keep your hands off my tits,” she told me. Maybe not.

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah,” she said with a smirk. We waited together for her to vomit again but after fifteen minutes she finally asked to be sat down in the kitchen and given a glass of water. I had brought her a blanket and was about to retire when she grabbed my wrist and told me to get her purse. She had left it on the kitchen table when she smashed into the kitchen. I picked it up, handed it to her.

I sat down next to her on the couch and watched her cross her legs. The jeans had so many holes and rips that I could clearly see the muscles in her thighs flexing against each other. She searched for something inside the purse and I saw no harm in taking the opportunity to stare right down her cleavage while she had her head bowed. I had never had such an unobstructed view of her chest and after leaning over the sink for so long her breasts were now fully in view. But I was satisfied with the sight before me, her chest expanding greatly as she regained her breath from the awkward crush of bending over the sink.

Wonyoung pulled her hand away from her purse and pressed something against my forearms. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Money.” she said. Right. Wonyoung snapped her purse closed and put it on the ground at her feet. She kicked off her shoes. Then she laid her fingers over her bare knees and finally looked up at me. Clearly the girl was pissed, but she wanted me to see her anger, not the fear behind it. I saw both and was curious, not to mention still buzzed enough to want to take my new mental images with me to the bathroom.

“I need you to hold this for me.”

“The money?”

She let out an annoyed grimace. “I can’t believe my sister dating a dummy.”

“Hey,” I said, handing the money back, “if that’s the way you want to be.” She shoved her hands against mine. “No, sorry, God. Just take the money.”

“Jinyoung…”

“Don’t!” she hissed. “Don’t let her know. Put it someplace she won’t find.”

“Um,” I said, trying to put my thoughts into words. “I don’t—”

“Please,” she said. That was new.

“Okay,” I said, more from exhaustion than common sense.

“And I won’t tell her you touched my tit.” I chuckled. “That was an accident.”

“Whatever. You stare at them all the time.”

We left it at that and Wonyoung curled up on the sofa. I took the money and hid it in the same panel of my toolbox where I hide my cigs. The next morning Wonyoung was gone. According to Jinyoung she was staying with their parents for a few days. I actually forgot about the money for a few weeks until I tried to sneak a cigarette the next month. Wonyoung called her sister a few weeks after that to invite us to her new place. We drove over. But Jinyoung hardly spoke the whole time and I realized that she’d actually been fairly distant for the last week. I asked if there was something the matter. After some cajoling, she told me that a few weeks back, some money were stolen from her parents’ house. The money had been saved for a rainy day. Instantly I thought of the cache of bills stashed in my toolbox.

“Do they know who took it?” I asked. Jinyoung shook her head. “Nothing else was taken so whoever stole it must have known it was there.” She paused for a moment, “…that means it must have been someone in the family.” Jinyoung was visibly shaken. I wondered if I should say something but decided to hear the rest first.

“Who?” I asked. Jinyoung sighed. “They’re not sure. The last time they had anyone over was weeks ago and they just realized the money was missing this week.”

It had to have been her sister. I wasn’t sure for what, and I definitely didn’t know why she thought she could get away with stealing something so conspicuous, but there it was. Yet a shred of doubt clung to my mind. Maybe it was a complete coincidence. Maybe last month Wonyoung had just come into a fortuitous quantity of money and wanted to unload it somewhere without telling her sister. Yeah… Right.

We were on our way up to Wonyoung’s apartment when Jinyoung suddenly stopped. “I forgot the wine,” she said. I myself had forgotten we were here to celebrate Wonyoung’s birthday. “I’ll go,” I said. “Just tell me what to get.”

“No, no,” Jinyoung was already putting a list together in her head. “I also need to get a card and that chocolate she likes.”

“Alright, well, let’s go.” I started heading back towards the car.

“No,” she said. “Stay here. I think Wonyoung’s setting up for the party later.”

I didn’t relish the idea of spending time alone with Wonyoung. She had never been my biggest fan. But it might give me a chance to find out what was going on with the enigmatic cash. After Jinyoung gave me a quick kiss and sprinted back to the car, I walked up the slightly damp stairs to Wonyoung’s place. When she opened the door, she was beaming. But the smile vanished when Wonyoung saw it was me alone.

“Where’s my sister?” she said flatly.

“Had to go pick up some things. She asked me to help you.” I followed her into the apartment.

“Everything’s already set up,” she said distractedly. As she crossed to the kitchen, I got a look at her swivelling bottom. The party was not for several hours and she had yet to get fully dressed. Wonyoung was wearing gym shorts and a black cropped top. She trod barefoot through the small but welcoming apartment. Banners and streamers hung from the ceiling and a table stacked neatly with cups and an assortment of alcohol was pushed against the wall. When I closed the door, Wonyoung was all business.

“Do you still have the money?”

“Uh—” I started. “Yeah.”

“Is it with you?”

“Why would I have it with me?”

Wonyoung rolled her eyes as if somehow it was her great misfortune to be partnered with so inept a criminal companion. Her lips, which were pressed together in a firm arc of disapproval, were a deep red. She began to speak again but I volleyed first. “Where’d you get that money anyway?”

She narrowed her eyes and placed her hands coolly on her hips. Even half-dressed she was a knockout. Her black hair was a little longer than shoulder length and straight and shiny as leaking oil. Her skin was pale and smooth like a porcelain. Then of course there was her chest, amply stacked below her round shoulders. Wonyoung’s painted nails tapped against her hips, probably wider than she liked but undeniably curvaceous. She had thighs that looked like they could wrap around a man’s back with dire consequences.

“Before you ask if that’s my business,” I said, raising a finger to staunch her bubbling protest, “bear in mind you did leave the money in my care.”

“What…” she spat. “‘Bear in mind,’ ‘in my care,’ who the hell talks like that?”

“Are you angry because I’m choosing my words carefully or because you’re trying to figure out an excuse?”

Wonyoung gave me an icy glare. “It’s just money,” she said. “I started a new bank account and I hadn’t withdrawn all the cash from my old one. I didn’t want to be walking the street with that much on me so I wanted Jinyoung to hold it for me.”

“But you told me not to tell Jinyoung.”

Wonyoung’s lips twitched. “You were a little drunk, maybe you don’t remember,” She said “…and I didn’t want her to see me drunk,” she said quickly. “That’s all I meant. You could have told her about the money.”

“Should I tell her when she gets back?”

Wonyoung swallowed hard. I could see the gears working overtime behind the white cloud of her eyes. I wanted to see how much she would admit to before I brought up about the burglarized. “No,” she said slowly. Then, “Where is it?”

“The money?” I asked.

Wonyoung nodded. A few strands of bangs fell over her eyes fetchingly. I couldn’t help notice her breasts jiggle slightly too. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“It’s… safe,” I said. A strange but powerful notion peeked from within the dark recesses of my brain.

Wonyoung wiped the hair back from her face and bit her lower lip. We were standing roughly ten feet apart from each other, she at the counter of her kitchen and I very close to the front door. “It’s not my money,” she said.

“Oh?”

She narrowed her eyes again. “You jerk.”

I held up my hands. “Hey, I didn’t take the money. And I’m pretty sure I know where you got it from.” This shook her. “What do you mean?” she said.

“It’s your parents, isn’t it?”

“How did you know?” was out of poor her beautiful mouth before she knew how to reattach her poker face. She winced and brought her palm to her face. “My sister…”

“Yes, Jinyoung is really upset about that.”

“Does she know?” she said frantically.

“Not yet.”

Wonyoung sighed. She leaned her head to one shoulder. “Okay. So, what?”

“You tell me.”

“Are you going to give me the money?”

“I don’t think so. I feel pretty bad about your parents.”

“They can spare it,” she said acidly. “Do you want to know what I need it for?” I thought about that but I realized I didn’t really care. “No,” I said simply. This pissed her off. “God, you’re so— Fine! Let’s just sit here until Jinyoung gets back so you can tell her all about it!” Wonyoung began to tromp out of sight, into the bedroom, when I raised my alternative.

“Who said I was going to tell her?”

Wonyoung stopped. “You’re not?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet. You need the money, I guess, but I don’t know if that makes it right to keep it.”

“If you give it to Jinyoung she’ll ask where it came from.”

“True,” I replied.

“So… what?” Wonyoung asked, frowning and looking at me over an open mouth. “Are you gonna give me the money?”

“I could be persuaded,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Wonyoung asked. “You want some?”

I grinned. “No.” My eyes were unapologetically lingering on her cleavage. Wonyoung actually followed my gaze to her own chest. When she looked up, she had this rage in her eyes. “You better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking.” She said.

I crossed my arms. “What am I thinking, Wony?”

“You’re a fucking jerk,” she said. “I’m telling Jinyoung.”

“Tell her what? That I stared at your chest because you stole the money?” She stared at the ground for a half second before looking up at me from under her dark fringe of hair. “What do you… want?” she asked.

“Well let’s get one thing out of the way first. What do you want?”

It took longer than it should have for Wonyoung to realize we were making a transaction. But she got it eventually. “I want…” she stopped herself and cleared her throat. “The money. I want you to bring it to me.”

“Okay,” I said. “You took it for your own reasons. I wash my hands of that. One day maybe you can square it with your family.”

“What do you want?” she asked apprehensively. There was a note of tension that eased into an uncertain fear.

“Um,” I said. “Take off your shirt.” Wonyoung looked offended but also surprised. “That’s it?”

“No. But that’s the start.”

Wonyoung seemed to weigh herself on either foot. She glanced at the door. “If… Jinyoung will be back soon.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. Outside I tried to project a cool control. Inside I was equal parts giddy, excited, fearful. Part of me was given over entirely to the lustful query of how far this could possibly go. I knew exactly what I wanted to do… But part of me didn’t see how Wonyoung could submit to it. She must have really needed that money.

“You want to see my tits?”

“Well, that and a little more,” I said.

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

I smiled. “Wony, I don’t want to have sex with you—”

“Then what?”

“How about a titjob?”

Wonyoung made a face. “Ugh. You’re disgusting.” I shrugged happily. “Okay. I’ll give Jinyoung the money when we get back, you and I can just sit here on our hands until she gets back.”

“There’s no way I’m letting your dick anywhere near me.” She said. I looked over at the chairs arranged by the door and sat down. I hooked my ankle over my knee and sat back, arms folded.

“You scumbag…” Wonyoung growled. Then she took three steps forward and crossed her arms over her taut belly. Her fingers grasped the thin fabric of her shirt and she pulled up. I was so excited I almost forgot to say, “Slowly…”

Wonyoung grumbled from somewhere in her shirt but that sound was swallowed by the smooth glide of fabric rushing against her bare skin. Wonyoung pulled up with her lithe arms and then all of a sudden, the swollen undersides of her pale breasts dripped from underneath, sprung from the cotton like fat dewdrops. I saw the first and then the second pink nipple peek from the black top and then sink down with its sister, falling solidly against Wonyoung’s chest and giving a beautiful trembling quiver. She must have been glaring at me as she balled up her shirt and tossed it onto the drink table. But I was enraptured. I drank in just the sight of Wonyoung’s full, exposed breasts. They stood out from her chest, the beautiful nipples pointed not at me but at my forehead, almost the ceiling. The areolas were smaller that made the slope of her unfettered bosom so much sweeter somehow, it was delicate. That, ultimately, was the defining attraction to Wonyoung’s breasts. They were the budded fruit of all her womanly sweetness, a blossomed youth that was sexual and feminine. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Wonyoung crossed over to me. She stopped when she was standing only about three feet away and crossed her arms under her boobs and tried to look bored. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s—”

“No,” I said. “The less you talk the easier this will be to explain.” Wonyoung was furious. But half naked. So, the effect was diminished. I was horny as hell and my dick was doing everything it could to grow hands and undo my zipper itself. “Squeeze yourself,” I said.

Wonyoung grabbed her tits in either hand and squeezed, quickly, and dropped them. She gave an evil grin.

“Do it better than that,” I said. She sighed and raised her hands.

“You’ve just been waiting for this day, haven’t you?” she sneered.

“Oh yes, ma’am,” I replied cheerfully.

“What’s the matter? My sister’s tits not big enough?”

“About the same, but I like yours more, apparently.”

“You freak…” she mumbled as she drew her index fingers across her dark red buttons. “Spit on your hand,” I said. Her eyes snapped open. “What?”

“Spit on your hand and rub it on your tits. Rub it all over.” She licked her hand defiantly and smeared it over her left breast.

The skin on her nose wrinkled. It looked like she was ready to hurl another insult but glanced fretfully at the door for an illuminated realization that if her sister walked into the door she’d have both tits in her hands, presenting them to her boyfriend in lustful supplication. Wonyoung brought her palm up to her chin and spat in it, glaring at me. “Spit on your hand again.” I said. This time she did it without protest.

Wonyoung rubbed her saliva into her skin. “Do it again,” I commanded. “Ugh,” she said. She spat again and rubbed it over her breast. It was beautiful. The smooth sheen of her pale skin was now glistening under her apartment lights. I told her to repeat the same for her right tit.

“Lick your palms.” Wonyoung licked her palms and ran them over her breasts. She ran her hands down her chest, to her taut belly. I made her do it several more times. After a minute both of Wonyoung’s breasts were coated in the sticky lather of her saliva. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I reached down to my pants and yanked down the zipper. I’d barely unhooked the button before my dick popped out of my boxers and stuck straight out at Wonyoung. She actually jerked back at the sight of it.

“Holy…” she stammered, looking a little ridiculous, her cheeks shiny from the excess moisture of her spit. ‘Oh my god,’ she moaned. “I can’t believe you’re going to do this. This is so fucking gross.”

I kicked off my shoes and pulled my boxers down with my jeans. I stood up to hook them off my ankles and faced Wonyoung. Separated by less space than we’d ever shared, I gazed down into her muddy brown eyes. “Your dick is poking into my stomach,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Spit on your hand again.” I smiled as she glared up at me and spat what she had left into her palm and rubbed. A wet smacking sound of sticky skin arose between us and I gently pried her hands away and laid my hands on her tits.

I let Wonyoung go on glaring as I ran my fingers over her wet chest and weighed each breast in my hand. Her skin yielded to me. I leaned down and sniffed the spit on her chest and ignored Wonyoung as she slapped ineffectually at my shoulders. I gave her nipples two very welcoming kisses and she pushed me away.

I sat down heavily in the chair, dick sticking straight in the air. I asked her to squeeze herself a few more times before commanding her to get on her knees. Surprisingly she did this without comment. Wonyoung was now sitting with her head and neck more or less aligned with my lap. Her raven hair trailed down over her shoulders. She stared at my dick as it wagged before her nose. Her tits were inches from brushing against my balls. “Let’s get this over with,” she said.

“How do I do this, I’m not that big, it’s not gonna work.”

“Make it work, Wony, rub in it.” I said. Wonyoung didn’t answer. She just leaned in and rubbed her palm over the top of my cock, pressing it hard against her chest. “Is that what you want?” she murmured.

“That’s what I want.”

“You want me to rub my tits over your dick, you shit?”

“Harder,” I commanded her, and she complied. I stroked the back of her neck and humped forward to rub my balls against the sticky surface of her slick stomach. “Ugh,” she groaned.

“You don’t like my balls rubbing against you?”

“No,”

“You don’t mind that dick though.” I said, she didn’t say anything. I couldn’t help myself. I figured if she was willing to go this far, she couldn’t protest to a little dirty talk. “Aren’t you a little slut.”

Wonyoung knew what I was doing. She kept her eyes trained down at my cock peeking up through the tops of her breasts and bent low until it almost hit her neck. Then she flexed and came up again, my swollen dick rubbing down her cleavage and leaving a slimier trail of precum on her smooth pale skin. “Yeah, I’m a little slut,” she replied. “You like getting off on your girlfriend’s sister? That get you off, asshole?”

“Yes,” I said. I grabbed her shoulders and ordered her to rub her tits. “Harder,” I told her. “You want to fuck these tits harder?” she spat. That gave me an idea.

“Spit on it,” I told her.

“On what?”

“You know what.” — A long white trail of spit left Wonyoung’s lips and dribbled over the slit and onto my cockhead. “Kiss it.”

“No,” Wonyoung said. She didn’t look up. Her raven black hair framed her hands wrapped around my cock.

“Spit on it again.” A thin line of saliva left her angry mouth and missed my cock. It hit the wet surface of her breasts and she shook her chin to separate it from her mouth, finally using her hand to wipe it off her lips. “Don’t bother.” I told her.

“I can’t… I’m out of spit.”

“Then use your mouth.” I said as she continued to rub my dick with her breasts. She looked up at me defiantly.

“Use your mouth, Wony. I want my dick wet.”

“That wasn’t what you said you wanted…”

I pulled her hands away. Wonyoung stayed on her knees and wiped at the streaks of spittle on her chest. I cupped her boobs in my hands and rubbed them over my dick. “What am I doing to you right now, Wony?”

“You’re fucking my tits.”

“Good girls don’t let boys rub their dicks all over their tits.”

“Stop,” she said. “You said I could. Say it. Tell me you’re a good girl.” I grabbed her hands and pressed them to her breasts. Together we rubbed my dick in and out of her sticky cleavage. Wonyoung had to arch her back and sit straight while on her knees to let me fuck her tits. She tilted her neck back to keep my dick from banging her face. I wrapped my hands around her bare shoulder and drew her close. “Say you’re a good girl, Wony.”

“I’m not a …” she started “Then say you’re a bad girl.” She glared. “I’m a bad girl,” she muttered.

“Tell me how slutty you are.”

“I’m a slut.” — “How slutty are you, Wony?”

“I fucking hate you,” she said. I wiped some dry spit from her cheek. She almost bit me. I leaned back, bringing her with me. I still had my hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what you’re doing.” — “I’m giving my sister’s boyfriend a titjob.”

“I wouldn’t say this was a titjob” — “Fuck you!”

“Well, I’m going to. Do you let lots of boys cum on your breasts?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you to say it.” I said. Clearly no one had ordered her around this way before. Her anger was close to being spent and now she just looked incredulous. “I let boys cum on my breasts,” she said flatly. She kept my gaze the entire time, her tits rubbing up and down, up and down, the precum oozing from my dick starting to leave a thick, sudsy trail down her skin. I watched it ooze down her chest and groaned appreciatively.

“You let boys cum on you, Wony?”

“All the time,” she said. “Do you cum on my sister?”

“What do you think?”

“Does she let you cum inside her?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Say you’re a slut.”

“No.”

“Say it, Wony.” — “I’m a slut.” she repeated.

“Say you’re my slut.” — “I’m your slut,” she said.

“So put your mouth on my cock,” I demanded. Wonyoung’s eyes widened. She stopped rubbing her tits against me. For a moment she looked, instead of angry, perplexed. Then she looked down at my dick as if she’d forgotten what she’d been rubbing her tits against for the past five minutes.

“Can you spit?” — “No…” she said, still staring down at my cock. It was red and a little chafed but damn it was worth it. “Open your mouth, Wony.”

Her hair fell forward over her forehead as she leaned down. She bent over until my balls were smothered in her breasts and she could breathe over my cock. “Agh,” she said. “God, I can smell your dick.” I leaned up and felt Wonyoung’s puckered lips suck my cockhead. Running my fingers through her hair. I reached down and pulled my dick from her mouth. Mid-suck, I pulled a string of saliva and cum from off her tongue.

I pushed forward. Wonyoung tumbled backward onto the carpet. Her thick thighs widened to let me follow her down. I was suddenly intensely aware of how close I was to fucking a pussy that was not Jinyoung’s. Then again, I’d just had my dick in her sister’s mouth. I crouched over Wonyoung and pinned both of her hands with my own, my dick almost balanced on her chin. Wonyoung stared at it as if it would bite her.

“You don’t deserve my sister,” she hissed. I stroked her hair over her forehead and gazed into her eyes.

“Use your mouth, Wony. Make it wet. Just use your tongue. I’m keeping the money until you make me cum.”

Wonyoung shut her eyes and parted her lips, silently allowing me to slide my shaft across her open mouth. From underneath she stuck out her tongue. I popped my cock back and forth along her mouth, dragging my balls against her lips and pressing my shaft against her high cheekbone, and she dutifully licked it each time it entered her mouth. “Say you’re a slut,” My dick retreated from her face. “I’m a slut,” she repeated. I slipped my dick back over her mouth. “Say it again.”

“uhmaslot,” she mumbled as I entered her mouth. Then I pulled out of her lips and trailed my dick down her cheek and neck until it was resting on her breast.

“You’re asshole,” she hissed. “I hope my sister comes home right now and sees you jerking off on me.”

“I’d fucking love it.” Clear precum was oozing out of my cock and pooling in the hollow of Wonyoung’s neck.

“What about when I tell her what you did to me?”

I trailed my dick down her stomach and rested the base of my shaft against her clit. An expected tremor radiated out of her every limb and her protests were silenced by my mouth over hers. I slid my dick back up her stomach and watched the sticky mess it made of her curvaceous body. “I just needed to get you out of my system,” I told her. “I’m going to cum.”

“Don’t cum on my face,” she said. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she threatened softly. In her eyes was the spark of defiant seduction. “Don’t you dare cum on my face,” she spat. I held my shaft over her neck and made her grab me. As soon as her fingers slipped over my cock, she started jerking me.

“Don’t you dare,” she spat as she tried to point my cock away from her. “Don’t you fucking dare cum on my face.” She repeated. The heels of my palms dug into the carpet and I felt everything between the nape of my neck and my heels seize up. I drove my knees into the carpet beneath her shoulders.

“Jerk me off, Wony. I’m gonna cum.”

Wonyoung pulled at my cock, causing me to cum over her mouth. She closed her eyes as thick ropes of jizz splattered across her nose and hair. She cried and let go. I snatched my dick from her and continued to stroke myself, cumming down her chin and neck before grabbing each breast to rub my cum over her tits.

“Do you like cumming on me?” Wonyoung gasped. I watched my cum stretch over her opened lips and immediately squirted again over her neck. “Is this how you fuck my sister?”

“Never,” I huffed. It was true. It was never that intense. Wonyoung lay on the floor and let me rub my dick over her boobs until every string of sperm had escaped. When I was done, I sat down hard beside her and gathered myself. Wonyoung sat up beside me. I reached above us and pulled down a kitchen towel and handed it to her. She took it wordlessly and wiped at her face and breasts.

“You’re awful,” she said quietly but let out a little smile and smirked. It was weird to see her smile. I sort of just nodded.

“Okay so do I get my money now or do I have to perform some other depraved sex act on you before you give it up?”

I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Regardless, I was spent and knew in the back of my mind I had to get cleaned up — that Wonyoung had to get cleaned up — before her sister got back.

“I don’t know if that ‘titjob’ was worth the money,” I said. ‘But yeah, I’ll get the money to you.’ After she got up, I said, “And happy birthday.”

Wonyoung rolled her eyes. “Don’t even think about following me into the shower to try to exact more payment from me. I know you haven’t given me the money yet… But that would just be wrong.”

She walked across the carpet and disappeared into her room. The word "wrong" echoed in my head like thunder, and the image of her wet smile was as bright as the lightning behind it.

Jinyoung and I were making love. It was Thursday night, and it had been about a month since I'd cum all over her sister's face and tits. It had worked in a faithless and uninterrupted way, and by the time Jinyoung returned from the grocery store, Wonyoung and I had both cleaned up and pretended that nothing had happened.

I had promised Wonyoung I’d return her ill-gotten money the next time she visited, and I’d meant it. Four weeks later Wonyoung was coming to visit us, ostensibly to see the family who hadn’t been able to make it for her birthday.

Where was I? Jinyoung and I were going at it. She planted an adoring kiss on my mouth and shifted in the bed. I turned her over gently and pulled out. She scooted forward and laid her head on the pillow, raising her slim bottom to me. I got up, planted my hands on her waist, not looking, and prodded forward enthusiastically. A sudden “Yow!” alerted me that I’d mistakenly jabbed a sensitive place.

“Wrong hole,” Jinyoung said, giggling.

“Sorry,” I replied, and grabbed my offending member. Jinyoung reached between her legs and helped guide me into her body. When my head rubbed against her slit, she gave an appreciative moan and we continued our previous motion.

Later, sitting in bed together, spent but not really sleepy, I willed myself to ignore the urge to smoke. Jinyoung thought I’d quit a year ago. She was curled around my arm and rubbing her fingers over my chest. She kissed my chest and murmured something.

“What?” I asked, looking down.

“You were going to deflower my butt,” she teased. Jinyoung grinned at me from my elbow. I smiled and stroked her hair.

“Never,” I said. She looked puzzled. “Would you ever want to?”

I thought about how best to answer this. She might not have remembered, but one night early in our relationship we’d actually become almost startingly drunk together and proceeded to try anal sex. It didn’t go very well and I’d managed to get my half limp dick about an inch into her bottom before she pulled away and made me swear never to ask her to try that again.

“I dunno,” I said casually.

Jinyoung grinned at me. “I bet you’ve thought about it.”

I laughed. Well, truth be told, I had, but I never thought of asking Jinyoung to submit to something so degrading. At least not when we’re sober.

“Why, do you want to?” I asked.

Jinyoung wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Yuck. Like I really want your dick, or any dick — up my ass.”

I teased. “You might like it though.”

Jinyoung pinched my sides. “No way.” She settled into me and laughed. “I have a few girlfriends who’ve done it. Most of them hated it.”

“Most of them?”

“Hey, don’t get any thoughts,” she said smilingly, “actually, there was one who said she might like it.��

“Who?” I asked. Jinyoung shook her head.

“Oh, come on.”

She got defensive. “Why are you so interested?”

“I’m just curious.”

“It was Wonyoung,” she said.

My dick gave a throb of longing. My skin prickled at the memory of Wonyoung’s lovely breasts rubbing my cock. “You think she like it?” I asked, trying not to sound weird.

Jinyoung grabbed a pillow and smacked me. “Hey, don’t tell her I told you!”

I laughed and pulled the pillow away. We fell into a groping, tickling match and that was the last time we discussed Wonyoung’s backdoor proclivities.

The next day Wonyoung showed up early. I was washing the dishes in the sink and Jinyoung was getting ready for work. I listened to Jinyoung go to the door of our apartment and squeal with delight. She and her sister immediately fell to talking over each other and laughing. The rush of the faucet blotted out most of the ensuing mania.

As I scrubbed the dishes clean, I listened to them clatter over our hardwood floor in their heels, commenting on new pieces of furniture or the mirror Jinyoung had just purchased. They quieted for a moment and I figured they were either whispering about one or another family members or boyfriends or preening themselves in the mirror. I tried not to think too hard about what Wonyoung might be wearing. Unconsciously, my crotch did the thinking for me.

A few hardy knocks on the wood and Jinyoung were at my cheek with a quick kiss and a smile. “I told Wonyoung she could stay here and gave her the spare key. You’re leaving at eleven?” — “Yep.” — “I told her not to touch your desk.”

I grabbed Jinyoung’s fingers with my soapy hand and kissed her soft knuckles. “Thanks, babe.” She smiled and strode out of the kitchen. She and her sister exited the apartment together, their voices echoing down the three flights of stairs to the street. Then there was silence broken only by the door to our apartment building swinging open and shut. The old staircase made new protest at the swift stomping back up to the top. I heard each creak over the gushing water. I heard the apartment door swing open and shut. Then silence.

Wonyoung’s heels went clack on the hardwood five or six times until the final step emptied out into the kitchen. I turned around. Wonyoung was standing with her arms crossed and her long legs planted in black, open-toed heels. She had on, a plain black skirt that cut off at about the mid-thigh and a white blouse that was fairly conservative except for a long loose decolletage that draped over her breasts and bared her cleavage. She had her lips pressed tightly together and her thin eyebrows furrowed on her forehead. To say she was squinting would be the wrong way to describe it. But her eyelids fought hard to keep it that way.

“Where’s the money?” she growled.

I pointed to the faucet and then at my ear. “I can’t hear you,” I yelled. “The water!” I pointed at the faucet again.

“Where’s the money?” Wonyoung repeated, lower, actually, than last time. I lifted a sudsy plate to reiterate my handicap. Her white eyes flared. “It’s not in your desk.”

I switched off the tap. “Jinyoung told you not to mess with the desk.”

“You fucked my tits.”

“Fair enough.” I wiped the plate dry, taking great care to scrub every inch before setting it carefully on the rack. “How’s your day?” I asked.

“Where. Is. The money?”

“It’s safe,” I said. “Misses you. Says it’s been feeling a bit lonely.”

Wonyoung brought her hand to her mouth and bit at her nails. She was annoyed. She was very annoyed. She spat a bit of chewed nail at the floor and leveled her gaze at me. “I will stab you,” she said.

“Interesting notion,” I replied. “It gives me an idea, actually.”

Wonyoung shook her head. “What do you want?”

I grinned. “Is it that obvious?”

“I can see your hard on!” she nearly screamed at me. I looked down quickly. I was indeed sporting something of an erection. But Wonyoung was beyond being offended. “I knew this was going to happen. I was going to spend all day hunting through your stupid apartment to get the money because I knew—” she jabbed an accusing finger at my dick, “I knew you wouldn’t give it to me! This is bullshit…” She shut her eyes tightly and groaned.

“The gods must be crazy,” I assented.

“Shut up!” she hissed. Her eyes snapped open. “Give me the money!”

“I don’t have it with me.”

“Then GET IT.” She looked at me with white fury. Wonyoung brought a hand to her left breast, almost unconsciously. “I gave you…” she started. Her frown became a dark mask. “You…”

“I know, call me whatever you want.”

She shook her head, purposely crossing her arms over the obvious gap in her shirt. “I’ll just wait till you have to go to work and find it when you’re gone.”

“That would be a very cunning plan. If the money were still here.”

“You’re lying.”

I shook my head. “When we got back, I put it in the bank. I figured I wouldn’t risk Jinyoung finding it.”

“Smart,” said Wonyoung. She lowered her arms until she was holding her forearms to her waist. “You think you’re so fucking smart.”

I didn’t say anything. I just smiled, triumphant.

“Whatever you want,” Wonyoung said, grasping her thin belt between her fingers and pulling it loose from her waist. ‘Whatever you make me give you,’ she went on, dropping the belt on the floor and reaching under her shirt. My breath caught in my throat as she pulled her blouse over her shoulders and stretched it over her arms.

Her jet-black hair slipped from the loosened neck. The black bra that clutched possessively to her chest was nearly the exact shade of her hair. She reached behind herself, her elbows sticking out and then springing back around as she effortlessly unhooked the snap and slipped the straps over her shoulders.

“I’ll tell Jinyoung,” she said, wrinkled her nose as she shrugged the bra off her breasts. It dropped carelessly to the kitchen floor. The bra lay at her feet. Her fists were balled at her hips. She squared her shoulders and leaned back, her pinkish areolas tilted up to the window and her beautiful abdomen bare from the waist up. “You want me to suck you?” she intoned, arching an eyebrow. “You want to fuck these tits again?”

I smiled.

She sneered. “Of course you do. I’ll tell Jinyoung everything. I’ll tell her everything. I don’t care if you do give me the money.”

“Oh you’ll get the money,” I said.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Take off the skirt?”

Wonyoung bent down and unzipped herself. She carefully stepped out of her skirt, still wearing her heels, drawing one knee and then the other up and over the fabric. She let it, like the bra before it, drop unceremoniously to the floor. She wasn’t wearing panties. Wonyoung’s small pubic hairs glistened in a trimmed tuft between her naked thighs. The light from the kitchen glanced across her flat stomach and made her skin glow. She stood proudly, arms akimbo, long legs lean and toned, open heels tapping at the floor.

“How badly do you want to fuck me?” she asked.

I swallowed. “Turn around.”

She did so. She pivoted in place slowly, giving me time to watch the way her muscles moved underneath her skin, the way her tight ass flexed and rippled between the small of her back and her taut calves.

“Take the heels off,” I said.

She bent over, affording me an unobstructed view of her naked ass. I heard her heels clatter over the floor and watched her stand up again, her legs suddenly less defined, her height reduced by a few inches. She was completely naked.

“Get in the shower,” I said. Her big eyes seemed to observe me from somewhere inside herself. Her mouth set in a firm line and she gently turned her head, her body following and padding rhythmically to the bathroom. I followed her as if I were invisible and she were traipsing alone through her own apartment. As we passed through the threshold together, she grasped the door and turned back.

“I’m going to tell her,” she said.

I was dumbstruck by her lips. They were always hard, always curving down, always dark, twisted away. Now they were lighter, without anything to harden them, suddenly soft and without guile. I traced the line of her soft neck down to her breasts. My eyes found their way back to her face.

“Get into the shower and soap yourself.”

“My tits, right?” — I nodded.

“You don’t care if I get my hair wet?” She rolled her eyes. ‘Right. How stupid of me.’ I watched her ass wiggle as she stepped over our fluffy bath mat and bent down to twist the knob. “Are you going to take your clothes off?” she asked without looking back.

I pulled my shirt over my head and threw it in the sink. I whipped off my belt and struggled with my zipper. By the time I’d pulled my socks off Wonyoung was standing in the shower running her fingers through her dark hair and frowning into the spray. She mushed her lips together and blew out the water that mixed with her mascara and dripped down her face. She wiped at her cheeks a few times until she’d cleaned her face and then reached for the soap. A generous blue glop of body wash squirted into her hands and she began to soap her tits, making sure she drew her fingers up her ribs and tightly scooped at her bosom the way boys like to see. She massaged her nipples until they were pointing majestically into the cascade. For a moment she held herself and glanced over at me, specifically my dick. She watched it hover over my aching balls as if hypnotized by her moistened hips.

“I guess I should thank you for not making me spit this time.” Said Wonyoung as I closed the door behind me and moved in. Wonyoung watched me apprehensively and drew back to the far side of the shower. I joined her, standing with my back to the spray.

“Can you get on your knees?” I asked. Wonyoung looked worriedly at my dick, her hands drawn up over her breasts and glanced down at the bath mat. “I don’t want you to hurt your knees,” I said.

“Gee, thanks.” She glared at me as she tilted her neck up. The bathroom was getting good and misty now and Wonyoung reached for the rim of the tub as she set herself down in front of me.

“Is it alright?”

“Just rub your dick between my tits…” she said. I did as I was told. Except I had to sit on the edge of the tub to make it work and not slip. I reached behind myself and braced against the toilet bowl. Wonyoung leaned forward and rubbed my shaft up through her breasts and heaven kissed my cock with buttered sunshine. I leaned back and closed my eyes, listening to the overpowering patter of water and humping my hips forward as Wonyoung rubbed her breasts over my cock head and stroked me up and down against her soapy skin.

“Is it worth it?” I heard her say under the spray.

“Yes,” I said. I opened my eyes. Wonyoung had to shut her eyes against the downpour of the water. To keep water from slipping up her nose she had to open her mouth. Wonyoung was blindly rubbing my dick with her tits, mouth open, water streaming down her cheeks, lips and chin and splattering off her eyelashes and bouncing against my chest. I leaned forward and slipped my lips over her wet mouth. Wonyoung jerked back.

“No,” she said. I reached down and sifted through her slit. Instinctively I found her clit and watched an uncomfortable shudder wrack her body. “No,” she said again.

“How much no?” I asked.

“No, no,” she replied. My index finger glided over the entrance of her pussy and she leaned back further. She kept trying to open her eyes under the spray of water but was deluged every time.

“Stand up,” I said. We stood up together. I helped her out of the tub and made her kneel on the carpet. Wet and shining under the bathroom light, she put her hand on the bathroom counter and softly went to her knees. She took her tits in her hands and presented them to me with her lips curled to the side.

“Bend over,” I told her. Wonyoung was flushed, confused. Her black hair was plastered to her forehead and clung to her shoulders and back.

“What?”

“Jinyoung said you wouldn’t mind.” I said as I caressed her ass.

She stared at me for a solid second uncomprehending and then suddenly her eyes went wide. I put a finger to my lips. “Ah, I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” I smiled and drew a hand over her wet shoulder. “Will you bend over for me, Wony?”

“No,” she said, “there’s no way…”

“I’ll be very, very gentle.”

Wonyoung’s neck seemed to swing on a hinge. “No, you won’t.”

“I really want to fuck your ass.” I said matter-of-factly.

“I bet you do! You want to fuck my tits, you want to cum in my mouth, you want to fuck my ass! You just want it all, don’t you?”

I held her gaze. “No, please…” she plead.

I leaned forward and kissed her neck. She shoved her fists against me. ‘Never,’ she said. I kissed down her neck, sucking at the water that collected in her clavicle. I held her hands back, thrilled at the feeling of her nipples swiping against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and slid my hands down her ass, clutching at her cheeks. Wonyoung had to shove her arms under my armpits to get around me and beat on my back. I easily pulled my left arm back and felt down her abdomen to her hairs.

The shower roared and filled the bathroom with still more fog and Wonyoung and I silently struggled as I rolled beads of water across the soapy surface of her clitoris. “Ever…” she groaned, her body convulsing forward, instinctively attuned to the massage of her privates. “Do you want me to stop?” I asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. I sent an exploratory ring finger along the edge of her labia and dipped my middle finger inside of her. I rolled the tip of my finger along the inner front of her vagina, searching for her spot, wondering if it was possible to find it with so much hate firing back at me.

“Yes,” she grunted again, leaning against me and sinking her teeth into my neck. Suddenly she gasped as I swung my finger along the fleshy inside of her slit. “Do you know how…” she stammered.

“How what?”

“To… to put it in…?”

I continued rolling along the inside of her pussy, my thumb gently slipped against her clit. I felt her breasts relax against my chest. “I do.”

“Do you have the money?” — “I do.”

“This is the last,” she said. “You have to give me the money.”

“Bend over.” — “Promise me.”

I looked down at Wonyoung. Her nose and mouth were buried against my neck. She glanced up at me, squinting. “You know that promise is no good,” I said.

“Jerk,” Wonyoung groaned. She pushed forward, pushing me out of the way. All of her black hair tumbled forward from her shoulders and neck and I leaned back on the balls of my feet. I traced my hand over the curve of her spine, drew it over her plump ass. Then I reached back, grabbed the bottle of shampoo and squirted it into my hand. I stepped beside her and kneeled down. When my gooey palm slipped into her ass crack she tensed forward on her knees.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “it’s water based.”

“Asshole,” she muttered.

“Exactly.”

Fanning my fingers together, I drew my palm over her crease, rubbing the thick solution over her posterior and vulva. Wonyoung shuddered again and presented her ass to me. I dipped a finger into the shampoo and gently tickled her clenched asshole.

“You have to relax,” I told her.

“Enh,” she huffed. “Then don’t put it in my ass.”

With my other hand I softly stroked her clit, swept back over her pussy. She gave an involuntary release. I took advantage. I wormed my finger into her behind. Wonyoung gave a sudden “Oh!” Then her canal clutched at me like an anemone. Generously lubricated, I had no trouble slipping my finger in to the first knuckle, then the second, and after a minute all the way down.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this…” Wonyoung groaned. Her shoulders were like the hackles of a cat. “You’re going to fuck my ass…”

Hearing her say it, I couldn’t wait anymore. I drew out my finger. Then I grabbed her hip, grabbed myself, and gently encircled her anus with the head of my cock.

“She doesn’t let you, does she?” Wonyoung said from the fluffy carpet.

“No,” I said. Her body was shaking. “You want to fuck my ass?” She asked as I pressed the head of my dick against her asshole.

“You want to fuck my ass?” she repeated.

“Yes,” I said. Suddenly, or magically, her sphincter gave way and accepted the head of my cock. Her asshole slurped at me greedily.

“Fuck my ass,” she huffed. “Slowly…” Wonyoung threw her head back. A wave of flexing muscle swelled against my dick. “God I hope I rip it off.” She groaned. Just for that I pushed another inch inside. The slimy shampoo gave me easy access between Wonyoung’s crack. “Ah,” she stammered.

I drew my hands lovingly over her hips. There was no need to hold onto myself anymore: already a third of the way inside the girl, the walls of her rectum cautiously squeezed my cock.

Wonyoung hung her head. “Your dick’s too big...” Smoothly, but probably not gently enough, I pushed myself another half inch inside. “Ahh…” Wonyoung moaned. Her little fingers disappeared inside the carpet.” How far?’ she panted. “How far is it?”

“Almost half way,” I told her. “Unnh fuck…” Wonyoung groaned as I pushed inside her. “How much money?” she asked.

“All of it.”

“I’m your slut for ‘all of it.’”

“Say it again.” — “No.”

“Say it again, Wony.” — “M-make me…”

I pushed myself another inch inside and her asshole squelched around me. This time I groaned. I felt myself resonate along Wonyoung’s wet hips.

“Harder…” she coaxed. I pushed deeper inside her. I looked down. The shaft of my cock was almost buried between my girlfriend’s sister’s ass cheeks. “Make me say it,” she gasped. I slap her ass. Wonyoung moaned. “You’re my slut for ‘all of it.’”

“I’m your slut,” she breathed. “I’m…ah fuck…” She bowed her head and flexed her thighs. She actually pushed herself back. She slowly, achingly, thickly impaled herself on me. “Your… slut…” she grunted.

I squeezed inside of Wonyoung until I was balls deep. I dragged my nails against her shoulder blades and watched her muscles shiver up and down her ribs. “How does it feel?”

“Full,” she said, swallowed even. “It feels so full.” I gently pulled out. “Ah,” she sighed. And then, mercifully, I pushed back in. “Awnh,” Wonyoung shuddered. “Not… too… hard,” she pleaded.

“Promise,” I said.

“Oh no,” she moaned, as I pulled out slowly and sunk myself back inside her. Wonyoung laid herself on her forearms and put her head to the floor. The warm mist of the shower settled over us and I squeezed myself inside Wonyoung’s tight ass and imagined her sister, fucking Jinyoung softly, and watched myself fuck Wonyoung’s beautiful ass. She made tiny sounds of relief and anticipation as I pulled myself from deep inside her, and plunging back again with more vigor.

“You got it,” she moaned. “You got what you wanted…”

“You like it up the ass?”

“Punish me…” she groaned to the floor. “Don’t…” But I was never sure just what ‘don’t’ meant. I pulled out and thrust back in. Her asshole gripped me tightly but it was getting easier to slide in and out of her.

“Fuck…” Wonyoung cried into the carpet. She twisted and squeezed the shag between her thin fingers, her knees drawn together, her feet curled under her thighs and her elbows pressed to her ribs as if trying to keep my dick from poking her insides. I kept one hand on her bottom and reached between her legs to fiddle with her clit.

“Oh fuck,” she spat as she shoved herself against my dick. It was almost too good; I almost wasn’t there at all. I was suddenly back, cock buried inside Wonyoung’s rectum. And she was crying out. “Fuck me!”

I slammed into her. Wonyoung pressed her forehead into her fists and swung her pelvis back to meet me. Over the gush and senseless waste of water the sounds of our skin slapped angrily against each other — my thighs against her glistening, naked ass — bounced from tile to linoleum tile. I shoved as many fingers as I thought Wonyoung could take up her pussy and raked her ass with my other hand. “Fuck you!” she screamed. “Fuck you for being inside me!”

I’m not sure if she came. I’m not sure if the wild spasm that wracked her tits and made her belly twitch as if a million lustful worms had suddenly ejaculated inside her, made her glutinous bottom clench and the hair on her neck stand on end, was a release or some kind of guilty vibration, but Wonyoung suddenly shut up and growled low, long and deeply.

“I’m going to cum,”

“Don’t cum inside me,” she panted. I pounded her ass again, the soap, sweat and slick mucous of her insides dripping from where we connected. “I’m going to cum, Wony” I repeated.

“Don’t…” Wonyoung grunted, utterly incapable of turning or removing herself, her upper body spent. “Do you cum in my sister?”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t…” she repeated.

“I cum inside her all the time.”

“Don’t fill me with Jinyoung’s cum,” she moaned. “I can’t take her boyfriend’s cum.”

“Take it, Wony.”

“Don’t!” she groaned. “Don’t! Don’t! Don’t!”

The cum shot out of my cock like a cannonade. Wonyoung’s rectum instinctively tried to pinch me off but I was buried so far inside her it felt like I’d ejaculated into her stomach. “Annnh!” Wonyoung growled again. I pumped harder, and harder. I shot my load deep inside of her. I fucked and emptied my seed into her ass. I came, unapologetically.

Wonyoung remained on her knees and let me squeeze handfuls of her ass. I pushed in as far as I could go. My balls beat against her exposed pussy and her asshole shuddered all around me. I pulled myself up to kneel — with my knee up I was able to shove myself another quarter inch inside, then a half. Wonyoung just stuck her head back like I’d straightened her posture. When my balls finally stopped quaking, Wonyoung murmured, “Are you done?” I slid my hands over her body, my fingers pressing the supple flesh of her back. She remained on her knees; gaze locked on the bathroom door.

“I have to…” she started. She jerked her head over her shoulder, most of her face buried in her tangled black hair. Her eyes regarded me sardonically. “I have to use the bathroom,” she said. “Number one or number two?” I asked.

“Asshole.”

“Exactly.”

I pulled slowly. Wonyoung’s hips shook again. She didn’t try to hide the relief and slight pleasure of my shrinking penis exiting her body. A trail of cum followed me out, oozing from her twitching muscles. She didn’t look at me again. She just reached for the sink and pulled herself up. I sat up, too, turned off the tap, and took the door, grabbing a washcloth on my way out and rubbing myself down.

“Wonyoung,” I wanted to say something but for the life of me I didn’t know what. She was pulling her wet hair behind her ears, glaring at the two of us in the mirror.

“I’m not interested,” she said.

After Wonyoung had finished in the bathroom. It was my turn, she glared at me as I stepped past her. I soaped down to the alternating sounds of Wonyoung maybe breaking things and asking when we would go to the bank. By the time I was done Wonyoung was already dressed and holding her cell phone.

“Was that the promised call to tell Jinyoung how much fun we had?” I asked but Wonyoung wasn’t looking at me. “I have to go,” she said blankly.

“What?”

“Jinyoung called. She’s leaving work. Our grandmother died.”

“I- I’m sorry.”

“I…” she started. She seemed to think better of whatever she started and clattered past me to the front door. “I won’t be able to sit for a week, asshole.” She said, “I’ll be back for the money.” Then her world class legs were stomping down our creaky old stairs and taking her out the door and across the street.

For the funeral, her family had invited everybody, and somehow everyone got their own rooms, Jinyoung and I included. It was a surprise to me, but then again Jinyoung and I were both adults, with jobs and responsibilities. Speaking of jobs… I was sitting up in the bed. My underwear was hanging over the side of the mattress, and I glanced at it when Jinyoung’s brown hair dutifully lowered over my tight member. She was beautiful to me in that moment: in her bra, her plain pajamas on, her hair in a loose ponytail. It was the casualness of the act. She had been getting ready for bed, had taken her shirt off, and begun to comb her hair in the mirror, when she turned to me. Quietly, she’d approached me when I’d just gotten my shoes off, and helped me remove the rest of my clothes. Then she pulled the sheets back and had me sit down. I did, naked. She crawled up on the bed beside me and kissed me, then kissed my chest, then kissed my cock until it grew hard. And then she started sucking.

She did it quietly, for the most part. The house was full, though mostly quiet now that everyone had gone to bed, and we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves. I had to wonder why she was going down on me now, today of all day, but I wouldn’t question it, not in the middle of the act.

It gets messy. I didn’t tell Jinyoung I was going to cum and she had me pretty deep. She spluttered, coughing suddenly. When she pulled her mouth back my dick was still ejaculating. Strings of cum leapt from the tip of my shaft while driblets of it stained the corners of Jinyoung’s flushed lips. She wiped her mouth and glared at me. “What the fuck?” she said. She was angry, angry enough to curse. “Ugh,” she groaned. She coughed again.

“Babe, I’m sorry,” I tried.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said. She sat up on the bed, in her bra, her tight stomach tensed. “It felt so good,” I said. “It’s… kind of a compliment?”

She shook her head, eyes narrow “That’s so gross.”

“Well,” I said, trying to sound dignified while my cock twitched and my sperm dried on my stomach, “if you swallowed it, maybe it wouldn’t get everywhere.” Yeah, that was not the right thing to say.

“Jesus,” said Jingoung as if that explained everything. “Sorry, I thought I was making you happy.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” I said. “I’m sorry. What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I have to take a shower.”

“I’ll join you.”

“I don’t want you to.” She got up off the bed and made for the bathroom that adjoined the guest room. She came out just as quickly with a thick towel and folded it neatly on the edge of the bed. “You can use the one in the hall.”

“Okay,” I said. “Are you mad at me?” Jinyoung coughed in reply. I sighed and let her disappear back behind the bathroom door. In a moment the light was on, she coughed again, and then the shower started.

I understood her anger, at least. We had a system, and I’d blown it. My obsequious attempts at placation were always disheartening to me, because all the ‘honeys’ and ‘babies’ in the world couldn’t make me feel like I’d reclaimed my balls. It was a very real threshold Jinyoung and I were on. Not that had anything to do with cumming in her throat, though. That was my bad.

It had everything to do with where my mind wandered, and maybe why I was never relaxed with her anymore. I wiped myself off with the towel and reluctantly stepped off the bed. I’d been at war with myself for a long time, and it had only been a week since I’d cheated on her with her own sister. Yes, I was the bad guy, there was no denying that. All Jinyoung wanted was commitment and trust. I wrapped the towel around my waist. ‘You know your problem,’ I said quietly to myself, turning the bedroom knob, ‘you just can’t be trusted.’

I smiled in the dark hallway. It was true. I was a creature of instinct, but cunning instinct, and I probably didn’t deserve Jinyoung, or I didn’t deserve her. The truth was, I did love her, but it was a comfortable, uneasy love. It was affectionate, and safe. Who could ask for more? but then…

A knife at your throat.

A knife at your throat brings a lot of focus. A knife at your throat can torch your self-loathing into a sudden brick of ash, leaving you with nothing but a bath towel and dried cum on your balls. In the dark hallway, right at the edge of the bathroom, a long, sharp knife emerged from the shadows and met my neck; lightly pressed against it. It was, to put it mildly, not what I was expecting.

“Get inside,” a voice whispered.

“The… uh, bathroom?”

“Yes, idiot.”

That would be Wonyoung. I sidestepped slowly into the bathroom, the knife held firmly against my neck the whole time, Wonyoung following me into the room. She shut the door behind us, locked it, and flipped the light on. Reflexively, I had my hands up. The towel was wrapped loosely around my waist, but other than that I was naked to the world — at least the house. Wonyoung, under the light of the old-fashioned bathroom, was still in her funeral attire, minus the sport coat. The tight black blouse strained to contain the girl’s ripe breasts. The thigh-length skirt still molded to her body and, surprisingly, she was still strapped into her black high heels. Most of her makeup had been washed off, except for the thin mascara that seemed to eternally circle her eyes. And her dark, dyed black hair seemed thicker, longer now that it had ever been, like a wild mane. The full lips, the upturned nose, the familiar sneer; all of it combined with her haughty, tight body to communicate something arrestingly unattainable. It occurred to me suddenly that I was fucked, because a straight razor was in her hand, and the hand was at my skin.

The blade rose and lowered on my neck. I swallowed, “W- what happened?”

“What do you think?”

I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to answer that, but I tried anyway, “This might be because we… had sex?”

“You fucked my ass in my sister’s apartment.”

“You’re upset about that… now?”

The knife pressed against my neck and I tried to raise my hands in as unthreatening a manner as possible. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Where’s the money?”

“It’s not here.”

She pressed the knife harder. Enough to actually draw blood. “Whoa! calm down… why would I bring it here?”

“I gave you what you wanted. It’s your fucking turn.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted it now.”

She surprised me by taking a swift stride forward and taking my shoulder in her other hand. The grip was tight. She was half a head shorter than me but her eyes burned up to mine with an unmistakable malice, and her hands did not waver. She was so close to my face I could have slipped my lips into the soft tresses of her bangs. The smell that came off of her was some thick but unsweetened perfume. I recognized, too, the vague smell of sweat, her sweat; in the tiny room evidence that she was human, and not entirely cold. Her breasts, unavoidably, brushed the bare skin of my chest. The two tight pinpricks I felt through the fabric alerted me to the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. In blind defiance of my fear, my cock began to harden.

She practically spit her next words: “When did you think I wanted it?”

“It’s in the bank — I told you.”

“You…” Her eyes searched mine for an interminable moment. Then she seemed to decide something. “You’re never going to give it to me, are you?” The knife between us was like a third person interrupting the conversation. Everything I could think to say was stopped by its contact with my skin.

“Of course I’m going to give it to you. The knife is very convincing.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, without humor. “Get on the floor.”

“What? Why?”

“Get. On. The floor.”

My palms towards her, my eyes widened slightly, trying to grasp what was happening. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to get on the floor. Lie on your back.”

I took a deep breath. There wasn’t much for me to do otherwise, so I slowly bent at the knees, and went down on one, then the other. In the process, the towel caught under my right knee and fell off, piling on the floor behind me. “Uh—” I started but Wonyoung said, “Leave it. Get back.”

So, naked now, hands still raised, I slowly lowered them to sit on the big, thick bathroom rug that lay between the sink and the bathtub. Wonyoung came with me, the knife ever at my neck, her other hand digging into my shoulder. We lowered together to the bathroom floor until I was on my back, the towel splayed out beneath me on the bathroom rug, and Wonyoung slipped her legs over my hips, just below my cock, and sat on me.

“You’re already hard.”

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

“I know,” she said as she reached down with her right hand and tugged at her skirt. The fabric clung to her so tightly she had to pull at one side first, then the other, then back again, to get it up her legs. When she’d tugged and pulled enough, I could see her bare thighs under the bunched skirt. A sheer pair of black panties hugged her bald pussy. It was completely shaved, and just visible through the nearly translucent fabric. She was practically sitting on my balls, and that sight made my dick grow harder.

“Hope you’re enjoying yourself,” she said.

“I have a lot of mixed emotions right now.”

“Shut up.” She brought her right hand up and planted it beside my head. She leaned forward. Suddenly I felt the silk material of her panties shift over the base of my cock. The fabric tingled where it slid over me, and I could feel the unmistakable cleft where the panties had ridden up into her pussy. Wonyoung dragged the panties over my cock, slowly, until she reached the head, and sat on it. Buried under her pussy, my cock was swamped by the heat that emanated from inside her.

“Does that make you hard?” She asked. I didn’t answer. But my cock twitched with a reflexive throb.

“That’s what I thought,” said Wonyoung. “Rip my panties.”

It was hard to know where to look. With the straight razor against my throat, it was dangerous to look anywhere but up into her cold eyes. Her tits pushed her shirt down, until they hung over me, ripe and within reach. But I didn’t dare move my hands. You know, in case Wonyoung was crazy. I replied with a clueless, “Huh?”

“Rip. My. Panties.” The words hissed through her gritted teeth. “Asshole.”

“Wony, I don’t understand.” She dragged the razor lightly over my skin. “Shut up and do it.”

I reached up. My hands couldn’t find her by sight, so I lifted my fingers into her flat stomach. She made a face but seemed to understand it, so she allowed me to drag my fingers down her waist, and the bunched-up skirt, until I reached the gossamer material between her legs. The straps that bound her hips were barely there at all. I reached deeper, until I brushed her mound, and pulled the fabric between my fingers.

I tore them. They ripped so easily I wondered what woman in her right mind would buy such fragile things, but the pulsations deep in my cock cleared that mystery up right away. In Wonyoung’s eyes was the registered shock of feeling our bare genitals suddenly in contact, but she didn’t do more than issue a tight gasp from her mouth. I ripped, and continued to rip until the panties were in tatters. They still hung around her hips; I hadn’t touched the band; but her pussy now lay atop my cock, its lips snugly parted over my shaft.

She shifted to roll me between them. “Was it worth it? Being a prick?”

With my cock inside Wonyoung. it was difficult to answer. She leaned down until our noses almost touched. “Are you going to give me the money?”

“Yes,”

“I don’t believe you. And I fucking hate you.”

“Is that right?” — She pressed the knife against me to shut me up.

“Here’s what I’m going to do.” She reared back until she was sitting on me again. My cock was still hard, flattened against my stomach and underneath her pussy. She laid her right hand over my mouth. “Lick it,” she said.

…..

“More,” she said. I licked her palm. I licked the creases in it and the spaces between her fingers. Then she reached down, underneath her, and lifted herself up on her knees. The breach of contact between us alerted me to the coolness of the bathroom air. Above me, Wonyoung rubbed her palm into her labia. The fingers slipped in. She returned her palm to my mouth, laying her pussy over my cock again as she leaned down. ‘Lick it,’ she said. I did. This time I tasted her pussy on her hand, and my mouth lingered over the taste of her fingers. She pulled back after I planted a kiss in her palm. Wonyoung rubbed the hand into her cunt again, coating herself with my saliva. She pushed her hand into my mouth. “Lick it,” she said, more hoarsely than before. This time her thighs trembled a bit when she rubbed herself. “Again,” she said. My lips and tongue danced over her fingers. This time when she reached down, she took hold of my dick. Her moist fingers clenched, rubbing my head until the precum oozed from the slit and mixed with the saliva.

“You want to fuck me?” she asked, finally pulled my dick upright. It bulged against her belly. “You were staring at me all day.” She said. It’s true, can’t deny it.

“You fucked my mouth… You fucked my ass…” With every word her thighs contracted and released. I felt her heartbeat through her stomach, and every contraction was simultaneous with a tight stroke of my cock, like a rough caress. “You had everything. And you still fuck my sister…”

“Yes,” I said, though it was more of a groan. She leaned forward slightly, not so easy to do with my cock pressed stiffly into her. She was relentless, squeezing it in her hand. If Jinyoung hadn’t blown me minutes ago, I would be ready to cum, but the earlier ejaculation had relaxed my body. It did nothing, however, for my burning urge to reach up and pull that blouse down her beautiful chest. But she kept the knife to me at all times.

“You just want more… and more, don’t you?” She looked down.

I could see her looking at my cock but I couldn’t remove my eyes from her face, even in this state, she was gorgeous. I felt the first drips from her pussy land in my pubic thatch. “Were you going to make me fuck you?” she said. “You want my pussy? Do you want my pussy?” She rubbed my shaft against her pussy. I had to lean my head back against the tile.

Then, her knees hugging the carpet and my hips, I heard the toes of her heels clatter on the tile, she rose up; she positioned my cock straight up, and wiggled it between the lips of her pussy lips, she gasped; it made her stomach jiggle, her breasts, too, and sank down.

We both groaned as my shaft plunged in, in to her naked flesh. “Ah,” she said, as if in pain. She was wet, but not dripping. She stopped about halfway and pushed her right hand down into the carpet.

“You like that?” she hissed as she sank her hips down, forward. My cock slid along her uterine wall. Then, to my pleasure and utter shock, she bucked her hips forward, dragging my cock in and out of her, gyrating on top of me.

“I hate you…” she said. “Your fucking cock… inside me… forcing me.” Her eyes burned down into mine.

“I didn’t force you,” I said. Her pussy was so tight. For some reason I’d imagined that her being such a bitch it would only make room for a big, loose pussy. But Jinyoung’s younger sister had a tight, wet snatch. It was like a trap, and I could feel it squeeze more precum out of me, to mix with the saliva she’d forced me to lubricate her with, to mix with the juice of her own body.

“You think I wanted you?” she hissed. She clearly had an agenda, and she took to it with forceful fervor, but it was impossible for my dick to elicit no effect that deep inside of her. I realized she was trying to work me in and out of her methodically, almost mechanically.

“If you cum before I do,” she started, “I’ll cut you.” Again, still with the knife at my throat. “And tell my father you raped me. And then Jinyoung will know what a piece of shit you are...”

Wonyoung wasn’t going to cum, that’s what she was saying… “If you cum before I do?” I said, “you won’t cut me?” She sneered. I suddenly thrust my hips up, and she had to grab at the floor. I pushed my feet into the ground and thrust again. The knife could cut me while I tried but I realized now that might be inevitable.

“If you cum before I do, you won’t cut me?” I repeated.

“You can’t make me cum,” said Wonyoung.

I raised my hands up and placed them on her hips. I forced her to go down, deep down, until her tight pussy was opened over the thick base of my cock, her ass practically riding my balls. “Anh,” she gasped.

“Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Fuck you,” she said. “Tell me how badly you wanted this pussy?”

“Badly,” I said. My fingers bit into her hips. I ran the fabric of her blouse up against her ribs until I was grasping her tight skin. I made her hips swivel against me. I pushed inside her.

“What about the money?”

She leaned back. She had to keep the knife on my throat but she leaned back, very business-like, her back almost straight, while I made love to her vagina like she wasn’t even a part of it.

“You wanna give it to me now?” she said. “If you give it to me right now, then pull out. Pull out of this pussy.” She flexed her ass on top of me.

“But then you wouldn’t get a good fucking,” I said.

“If I wanted a good fucking, I wouldn’t be fucking you.”

“You just want to make me cum?”

She sneered again, the coldness in her eyes dire contrast to the heat below her waist, and the movements, almost gymnastic and snake-like, of her writhing, curvaceous body. It was her body that was built for sex; every undulation, every inch of her soft, pale skin, was meant to attract attention, meant to draw the eye, meant to force lewd fantasies.

Did Wonyoung know the men in her wake were left with no recourse but to stroke themselves to ejaculation at the thought of her wide hips under their palms, her tight ass clutching their cocks, her fearsome eyes hating them as they squeezed their manhood between her tight, moist crevices? Of course she knew.

“You’re going to cum,” she said. “You’re going to cum inside me. I’m going to squeeze your f-fucking cock until you can’t take it anymore… and, then, you’ll do it. You want to do it.”

“Yes,” I said, my hands forced her hips deeper down.

“Better slow down,” she gasped.

“I’m just getting started.”

“Oh yeah?” She reached up to her blouse. No, I thought, it’s too cruel. Her fingers slid over the slopes of her upper breasts. Her finger dipped into her cleavage. “You want these tits?” she whispered breathlessly. I didn’t say anything, but I did slow my strokes.

“That’s what I thought… You can’t handle me.”

That would not stand. I grabbed her ass and plunged my cock deep, thrusting my hips hard towards her pelvis. She bumped forward; her hand fell beside my head. Her breasts swung over my face.

“Does that make you mad?” she hissed. She leaned down until her nipple, under the black fabric, grazed the skin of my lip. I couldn’t stand it. I stretched my mouth forward, trying to catch it through the shirt. Wonyoung leaned up, laughing. “I don’t think so,” she said. “You can’t handle it.”

I didn’t like being told what I couldn’t handle. I dropped her hips suddenly, and reached for her chest. She let out a stunned “What-?” before I grabbed the blouse between my fingers and tore, like I’d torn the panties.

Her breasts freed from the rent fabric. At first, they just rolled forward, freed from the pressure but too full, too squished to leave the shirt. Still stunned, Wonyoung was pinned by my dick plunging into her behind and her hand bound to stay at my throat, so she couldn’t stop me from grabbing the torn shirt and ripping it the rest of the way. Her gorgeous breasts were freed from her clothing, plump and swollen, the bottoms still tightly trapped but the nipples, the soft skin at their sides, exposed, even held so that each bounce of her ass on my thighs, at every increasingly wet thrust and gyration, they make little jiggled forward.

“Prick,” she said.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” she gasped. My thrusts were merciless now. She tried to right herself, to get more rigidly on top, but I angled my hips so that she was forced to lean forward, forced to keep her one hand planted in the tile, I hoped her knife hand was getting tired. Her breasts were beautiful, and I adored them. She shut her eyes tight.

“Do you want me to touch them?”

“N-no…” she groaned.

I thrust harder, faster. “You bastard…” she rasped. “Don’t…”

It was beautiful. The way breasts swung over me, forced to bounce with every push of my cock. It hurt her, but there was an open, hungry pout to her mouth that proved that some tangle of nerves caught in the strain forced her to like it. I couldn’t bear to see her like that any longer.

I reached up and held her breasts. Their thickness filled my hands. The hard nipples practically carved her initials into my palms. I squeezed them, and she let out a deep moan. I reached down and tore the rest of the shirt. Her breasts flopped out all the way and I scooped them hungrily between my fingers. Sweat had built up between our waists; I could feel it trickling down from where her skirt bunched up against her hips. One hand slid behind her back, the other pulled her in to me. I took one pale, puffy nipple between my lips and sucked on it.

“Suck it…” she whispered. “Is that what you want? You want to suck my tits?”

I just groaned assent to her dirty mouth. I slowed my strokes to savor the taste of her breasts. My tongue dragged over the slopes of one, licking deep between them to the space in the middle of her chest. I felt her right hand on my shoulder, maybe pushing me, maybe trying to stay steady, as I scooped the left breast towards my mouth and suckled on it, bit it lightly, tried to get as much of it in my mouth as I could fit.

I sucked harder on it, loving the taste of her, the hot, angry taste of her, and the wondrous texture of her bumpy areolas. It occurred to me, only then, at the height of my arousal and hunger for her, that I had stopped thrusting, that her pussy was slipping and gliding over me, that her left hand had gone limp — had not dropped the knife — that her stomach was quaking over mine.

“That what you needed?” she said huskily. “Needed these tits in your mouth? I know you did.” I let her nipple slip from my mouth and reached up. I took her face in both hands and pulled her mouth to me.

“Fuck you,” she spat into my mouth. She actually spat.

I wet my lips and cupped them over her own. Her tongue slithered out and tippled over mine. I thrust. She pushed. Her breasts squashed against my chest. I reached down and gripped her ass fiercely, forcing it up and down on my cock. Our spit mingled while she acted like her tongue in my mouth was there by protest. I, for my part, sucked on it, kissed her mouth, and reached for her hair. “Cum,” she whispered when our lips peeled away from each other.

“You wanna make me cum?”

“I make you cum,” she said, her face still inches from mine. She rested her breasts on top of me. “You came inside my ass.…I had to… push it out…”

“You didn’t like that?” I groaned. “You didn’t like shitting out my cum?”

“You are sick,” she gasped. “Ahn. You’re vile. You fucked me. Your big dick. In my ass.”

“Are you going to cum?”

“You can’t make me cum!” she whispered violently.

“You’re wet.”

“I’ll cut your throat.”

I got a good grip on her ass cheek. My right arm braced against her side. “You want to cum, Wony? You want it good? You want it rough?”

“Don’t—” she said. She could feel my arms’ tensed strength. “I’ll… cut…”

“Do it,” I said.

“Cum,” she said. “Ah!” She said it as I shifted my weight. She said it as I pulled at her tight ass and pushed up into her pussy with my hips. She said it as I grabbed her back and torqued her to the ground. The knife at my neck was there, but suddenly wasn’t. It clattered to the floor as we tumbled. We seemed to be a ball of wet limbs and tangled clothing for a breathless, sightless time, then suddenly she was on the ground, on her back, her fingers scratching at my neck, and I was on top, plugged inside her, and I reached down and pulled one long leg up against my body to open her pussy wider.

“Take it, Wony…”

“Ahn fuck…” she hissed. Her eyes went wide and to the toilet bowl just above her head. I pulled her hands off my neck and pinned them to the tile. She fought against me the whole time but my muscles bulged, hot with lust, and my grip on her wrists unyielding. Her open palms grabbed at nothing, her outstretched arms forced her exposed breasts up, so that their full, rippling bounty was flattened over her torn shirt. I heard her high heel knock the bathroom floor. And of course, between her legs, between her open, limber legs, where her bare pussy shed its juices under her torn, mangled panties, was me, slipping it to her, guiding my tight, insistent cock between the hungry lips of her devious sex.

“You like it better this way?” I whispered into her ear. “You don’t have to do the work. You can just let me fuck you until you cum.”

“Can’t… make me… cum…” Wonyoung panted.

I laid a wet, passionate kiss on her mouth. It was devoid of love and full, bursting with all the ravenous urges I’d built up since I’d seen her this morning. I was glad the knife was now somewhere behind the toilet, but I was plunging harder and harder into her body and I wanted to cum. Yet I refused to unless I could make her do it, and believe it. The squelches of our sex only made the hot air stink more fragrantly of two angry people fucking. I grabbed her hair and tilted her head back.

“You like it dirty?”

Hands freed, she reached down between our bucking hips. I felt her fingers work at the skirt, try to free it from my pounding hips.

“You got cum all over my skirt,” she gasped.

I reached down and pulled at it. She worked it from her side. I felt something give in the material. Something snapped. Her other hand reached down to take the clasp and open it. Then it was off, ruffled and pinned under us, like the towel and the rug and the shreds of her shirt and panties. I slowed my strokes enough to savor the curved entrance to her soft pussy.

I bent my neck to pop one of her breasts into my mouth. It was dotted with quivering perspiration. Her breath was ragged. Suddenly she reached up and clutched my shoulders. I licked up her chest to her neck and chin. And her eyes burned into me.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you.”

“You gave me everything,” I gloated to her, on top of her, my fingers biting her ass cheek and hiking her leg even higher.

“You took everything,” she rasped.

“I’m going to make you cum, Wony.”

“Can’t force me…”

“I’ll force you.”

“Force me,” she said. Her mouth now refused to close. Her upper lip was spotted with sweat; her pink tongue was writhing in her mouth. She had to breathe through that mouth, had to kiss me with it when I made her, but she couldn’t close it; the sound that issued out of it, a high but deep groan that pressed up against her flat stomach, wouldn’t allow it. Her teeth grit together for a rough instant.

“Force… me…”

“You’ll love it,”

“I hate it.”

Her leg had ridden as high as I could get it with my hand in that position. I reached under so that I was now holding it up from underneath, the back of her knee between my thumb and forefinger. The sweat running down from her calves, from the tight straps of her high heels, flowed over my knuckles and to my wrist. Our hips slapped together. Her other leg went up, the knee pointed to the ceiling. The heel scraped over the floor.

“Your dick,” she ranted. “Your fucking dick…”

“Inside you.”

“Inside me…”

“Cum on my cock, Wony. Cum for me.”

“Forced me…” she gasped.

“You forced me.”

“I didn’t force your dick between my tits.”

“Give it to me, Wony.”

“Didn’t… ah… nah… force your… cock…”

“Into your ass.”

“My ass.” She shuddered. ‘Now,’ she said. “Don’t stop…”

“Let me hear it.”

“Oh… Fuckngh…”

My dick slid back and forth, never stopping, her ass slapped the bathroom floor. She lunged for my neck. I felt her teeth bite into my shoulder. I reached up, pushed her moist back up, curved my pelvis up to meet her bucking pussy. She came silently, biting into my shoulder, her whole body a wicked vibration.

An instant later I came as well. My cock stuck bolt upright and ejaculated, pumping Wonyoung full of my cum. The thick deluge that I’d been holding back, it all came, shooting, unending. Wonyoung let out a little shriek when it happened — nothing loud enough for the house to hear — nothing that sounded pained, but a tail added to her own unleashed orgasm, something that ended her quivering and transformed it into full body squeezes. She clamped over me, with her legs, her arms, her mouth, and released all of them. If my hand hadn’t been behind her head, she would have knocked back against the toilet bowl.

The two of us shivered together without speaking, her arms draped loosely over my shoulders.

Somehow, and sometime later, we got to our feet. We gathered the pieces of clothing and the towel, into the middle of the room. She bent down and undid the straps on her heels. Then I started the shower.

-

It was the practical thing to shower together. We did it without speaking. I let her use the water first, then I came forward and soaped myself. Finally, however, it was just too much to see her splashed in water, the white suds dripping all down that buxom body. I pushed her against the shower wall, my hands cupping her breasts, then her ass, my tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She kissed me weakly, a hand skating down my back but not knowing, truly, where to go. I thought I might even feel another tingle in my crotch. But it was Wonyoung pushing me away.

“No,” she said quietly. “I really mean it.”

We parted. She finished shampooing her hair, then she stepped out and grabbed a towel from the sink cupboard. When I shut off the water, she handed me another one. She had already bound the ripped articles of clothing in another towel. I didn’t ask what she planned to do with it. The straight razor had been returned to its place.

She sort of nodded, not looking at me, and reached for the door. But I stopped her with a hand on her wrist. She didn’t say stop, she didn’t say no, she just looked at my hand, and then at me. It wasn’t really an angry look; it was tired, and more than a little ambiguous.

I started to say, “I want…”

But she cut me off with, “Yeah.” Her eyes burned into mine, without hate, but without anything I recognized. She opened the door and was gone, her hips under the white towel shifting, sashaying, into the shadows.

I shook my head. Well, who’s to say what I wanted, or what Wonyoung wanted beyond the money? I didn’t know, and other than the fact that I’m a bad boyfriend, I wasn’t going to know anything more. At least not tonight.

I went through the door to the guest bedroom, to the little yellow light by the side of the bed. Jinyoung was sitting up with her glasses on, reading a book from one of the ancient shelves.

“You were in there for a long time,” she said, looking up.

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly exhausted. I threw my towel over a chair and wandered heavily to the other side of the bed. I slid in next to her and turned over.

“Hey,” she said.

“What?”

Her voice rose. “Where’d you get that bite mark on your neck?”

Two months. Two fricking month later and all I needed is a date.

My company was hosting a large end-of-year celebration at a downtown hotel, and they were providing the rooms, food, and everything else. We only needed to show up and have a good time. There was business to be done, as well as some late afternoon seminars to attend, but the most important thing was that I needed a date. Because after the dancing and drinking, I'd have a whole hotel room to myself.

Nice guy that I am, I thought of calling Jinyoung first. But nice as I am, I’m also an asshole. It didn’t take me long to remember.

The breakup was bad. The hicky Jinyoung found on my neck began a series of questions that led to a series of shouts that led to me leaving the house before the entire family was involved. Of course, that didn’t stop it. There were angry phone calls, from both Jinyoung and Wonyoung—Jinyoung about Wonyoung and then Wonyoung screaming for her money or to get her sister off her back.

Things weren’t easy when Jinyoung and I shared an apartment. I had a head start but it wasn’t enough to get all my shit packed up and out the door. When she came home, she immediately set to tearing the place apart. She threw my toolbox out the window, and it came very close to shattering and spilling out all the money that was hidden inside of it.

I had to find someone to sub-lease my half of the apartment, which was a nightmare in this economy. I had Jinyoung’s friends calling me, leaving text messages, telling me what a monster I was. Yes, me, a monster. Well…

Comes the end of the year and I need a date for this shindig. I hadn’t even thought about it, was planning to just feel sorry for myself, drinking and try not to slit my wrists alone in the hotel room. But a chance encounter in a coffee shop changed my mind.

-

I had been sitting in the corner of the cafe with my laptop for about ten minutes. I’d been in there for an hour already, catching up on work, trying to get everything in my docket finished before the company party, when I noticed a girl come in through the door with a group of friends.

Her friends were fine, but she had a long trail of raven black hair, the unapologetic cleavage in her low-cut top clued me in to her breasts; the mini-skirt tipped me off to the ass. It was Wonyoung. For five minutes I didn’t know what to do. On the sixth minute, I shut my laptop.

She excused herself from the group to use the restroom, and when she did, I followed her in. She was closing the door behind her when I slid my foot between the door and the jamb. She started fuming even before she saw me. “Hey…” She stopped.

We regarded each other with quiet, calculating grimaces, and then, as if on cue, she opened the door and we entered the restroom together.

“What the do you want?”

“To give you your money.”

She snorted. A puff of air escaped her lips and tossed one of her bangs back over her ear. The action was adorable. “Right,” she said. “What do you want me to do, fuck you in this shitty bathroom?”

“No, but good guess,” I said.

She crossed her arms and gave me a nasty smirk. “My family thinks you’re just the sleaziest shit right now. It’s awesome.”

“What about you?”

She shrugged. “Like I give a shit. No one’s thinking about the money right now. My sister won’t stop giving me shit about you but whatever.”

“So, I guess you don’t need the money anymore?”

She bugged her eyes as if receiving some sort of revelation. “Oh, wow, you mean you’re really going to give it to me? I’m not stupid!”

“No,” I said agreeably. “No, Wonyoung, you’re a smart one.”

“Look,” she said, “you’re not my sis’s boyfriend anymore and I don’t care what you do with the money. So, uh, I think we’re done here.”

I nodded. “We can be, if you want. But I have a proposition for you.”

“Fuck that.”

I threw up my hands. “Oh Come on, Wony. Didn’t we have some laughs?”

She sneered. “Yeah, Riiight. All those times you fucked me when my sister wasn’t around? Yeah, those were great times.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints though.”

“I literally complained the entire time. Or did you not hear me calling you out, while you were cumming in my ass?”

“Good times,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “Will you please leave? Or do you want to watch me piss now?”

“No,” I said, “my perversion does not extend that far. However, I do have a proposition for you and I ask only that you hear me out before any further profanity.”

“Fuck you.”

“Right,” I said. “I’m willing to give you your money back.”

“If…?”

“If you come to this company party with me. You’d come as my date. You’d be there with me.”

“And that’s it?”

“No, that’s not it.”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I thought so. You really get off on getting off on me, don’t you?” She made a grand show of searching the ceiling with her eyes. “My sister hates you right now.”

“I understand that.”

“So, what, I have to wear a nice dress, pretend you’re my prince charming?”

“You’d only be there for the drinking and food. The boring business stuff is earlier in the day.”

“Right,” she said. “And I should believe you because…?”

“I’ll bring the money with me. I’ll show it to you as soon as you get into the hotel lobby. If I don’t have it, you can walk out and leave. If you stay, I’ll give it to you.”

“When?”

“After.”

She laughed. “You think you’re so smart,”

“Actually, I thought I sounded desperate.”

“You do,” she said. “You are. You’re pathetic. Why don’t you get some other girl to come with you? Oh, that’s right. Cause you’re an asshole.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe I’d rather go with you.”

“I bet you would.” She leveled her gaze at me. “When is it?”

“End of next week. I can send you the directions.”

She took a deep breath, and without another thought, just nodded. “If I show up and you don’t have the money, I will stab you in the lobby, I don’t care who sees it.”

“I believe you,”

“Now leave, I have to piss.”

“Can I watch?”

-

The weeks stretched by like they were laden with lead weights. On the day of the party, I tossed the ill money in my duffel bag. The seminars were excruciating. The small talk was boring. But at about 7 PM, when the company members were coming downstairs in their finery, my boss was already drunk, and I was waiting in the lobby, the night, quickly, and briefly, was all worth it.

Wonyoung arrived. She had a small bag with her, enough for a night’s stay, and it was taken by the bellboy without much fuss. She knew what number the room was. And she strode towards me on the wide red-carpeted floor.

She was in nothing but a straight white dress, and I mean nothing else. She did have a pair of white heels that went all the way up, but there was not a bra strap in sight over her bare, brown shoulder. Her breasts were squeezed into the outfit, that shimmered and bent the light, and the hem went to just about thigh-level. Just about. When she walked the fabric slithered over her ass. And the eyes of the hotel did likewise.

I opened my mouth to tell her what she already knew but she cut me off. “Money,” she said. Her eyes were rimmed with dark mascara, her cheeks blushed. The money appeared in my hand and swiftly returned to my pocket.

“How do I know it’s all there?”

“It’s all there,” I said.

“Liar.”

“It’s all there,” I said. “Do you want to tell the bellboy to bring your bag back?”

“If it’s not…” she growled.

“You’ll cut me, I get it,” I said. ‘Fair is fair, I know. Now, look,’ I said, I looped my arm through hers, “you’re here as my date. So, you have to make believe you’re having a great time.”

“My imagination isn’t strong enough.”

But it was decent enough. I introduced her to my co-workers as Wonyoung, which she was, my girlfriend, which she definitely was not. They all wanted to know what she did and where she came from and she smiled and nodded whenever possible, laughing when she absolutely had to, and only tensed and flinched when I slid my hand down her backside. After thirty minutes of small talk while we waited for the bar and dance room to clear, she bent her mouth to my ear. “Where’s the expensive wine, you promised me?”

“Inside,” I said.

“Your co-workers are boring.”

“Yes… Yes, we are.”

What followed would only be more of the same. My boss came over to ask me who I was with, and I happily told him she was in love with me, a woman who believed in all the great qualities I possessed, who supported me, was faithful to me, who was not necessarily prettier than her sister, but much hotter, and fucked like a wild rabbit. My boss smiled and nodded, drunk off his ass. He had to find it first and Wonyoung sneered at his wife as she gave us both a dirty look and carted him off. “Wine,” said Wonyoung. “He drank it all, didn’t he?”

We were back at the table, everyone loosened up and drinking freely, and Wonyoung was giggling with my co-worker about how smart I thought I was, and I was just laid back enough to let them have at it.

-

The four of us broke away from the group as the night wound down, and we all helped each other find the way to the elevator and up to our floor. They said goodnight and tried to look casual as they strolled off to their room. As soon as they had their backs to us, I pressed Wonyoung up against my hotel door and kissed her.

She kept her eyes wide, watching them down the hall. I could feel her body tense, waiting for them to disappear into the room. And I kept my eyes open too, to drink in the sight of her angry eyes, feel her charged muscles, while I slid my tongue deeper into her mouth.

My hand gently pushed her to the door, while my other found her backside. I fondled one curvaceous ass cheek, almost reaching the hem of her skirt. She reached behind herself and pulled me away, but she didn’t break the kiss.

Her mouth was wet, her lips was puffy. Wonyoung pushed me off. “Ah,” she groaned. She wiped her pink-colored lip with the back of her hand. “You bit me.”

“Thought it would help your concentration.”

She gave me a withering look. “Just let me in so I can get my bag and get out of here.” I smiled in the most diabolical way that I could. Mostly for her displeasure, but the motivation behind it was very real. “You’re not leaving tonight.”

Her brows knit together. “Fuck that,” she said. “I did what you said, showed up to this stupid thing, now pay up.”

“Nope,” I said. “I told you I needed you here for the event. Tomorrow morning is when we leave. How’s it going to look if I show up tomorrow and my date’s high tailed it out of there? They’ll think you were some kind of escort.”

Wonyoung looked furious. Her eyebrows came down over those blazing eyes. I had to wonder if she genuinely hadn’t known, or if my company disgusted her that much. Down below, in my pants, I hoped it was both.

“I’m not…” she started.

“You know what you’re here for,” I said. “Don’t waste my time.”

“Don’t waste your time?” she fumed. “Okay I’m going.”

“Really? You put up with everything tonight to go home empty handed?”

“I’m not spending another second here,” she hissed. “Especially not to…”

I put my hand on the door, barring her way. “I have some of your money in my pocket. The rest is inside,” I said. “You want it, you can look for it.”

She shook her head.

“You can always just tell me no.”

The skin on her nose wrinkled, her whole face joining in to grimace. “No,” she said. “No, I won’t do anything your sick brain wants.”

“It’s not my brain,” I put in. I leaned in closer. Our bodies brushed together against the door. “Do you want the money or not?”

“It’s mine,” she said.

“So, you’re welcome to take it. Inside.”

Her eyes studied mine, the wicked gears inside calculating, maybe ways to subdue me, maybe how to kill me. I could see, though, that tonight had been no joy for her and to walk out now would only compound her fury. “Fine,” she said. “Open it.”

“Not until you know what you’re going in there for,” I said.

“To get the money.”

“To honor our deal.”

“You said I had to pretend to be your girlfriend for the night,” she said quickly, spitting the words out without thinking.

“Oh yeah,” I said.

Before she could protest, I’d swiped the key into the card lock and we pushed inside. Wonyoung’s bag was set primly beside the bed. My suit and bag were on top of it. Wonyoung stalked to the bed, to my bag, and I was treated to the sight of those long legs flashing in the striped light of the blinds, the lamp inside and the hall’s diminishing radiance. The door swung shut, and Wonyoung was at the bed, my bag unzipped, rifling through it.

I let her search, closing the door. Should I lock it? I wondered, and casually strolling into the room. It was a good room the company had provided. There was a bathroom on my left, a small kitchenette behind it and running from the door to the wall. On my right was the sliding closet, with both doors’ full-length mirrors. The bed was on the far-right side of the room and the bathroom was across from it, beside the TV.

Wonyoung’s face only grew darker as she flung my shit further across the room, to no success. A gray undershirt hung from the TV, and one of my socks had even caught in the half-lidded Venetian windows. I savored the movements of her, her bare arms scouring the bag, the fine muscles beneath the skin twitching with unconcealed tension. This was the first time, I thought, the first time my proper girlfriend wasn’t sleeping around the corner or waiting for me to return, the first time her family wasn’t around to threaten me with. We were two people in a hotel room; for all intents and purposes, as far as my colleagues knew, she was happy to be here, doing the things that couples did.

My body stirred, even as I stood motionless in the center of the room. My manhood stiffened. She had stopped going through the bag. She’d turned it upside down, finished with it in a petulant fury, its flattened fabric deflated, just like her hopes to finish this without another word to me. But if her hope was deflated it did not stop her anger. It radiated out of her, making every glistening surface of her shine that much brighter. We were both lightly sweaty from the dancefloor downstairs. Some of it had evaporated in the intervening hours. I could smell myself, sort of, but I couldn’t ignore her. Her perfume and shampoo were still lingering in her hair but her sweat, a pure, natural aroma, filled the room. She sat on the edge of the bed, one leg drawn up under her skirt, one leg heading down, way down, to her white heel in the carpet. Her hemline, which had started low, was drawn up and stuck under her bottom, so half her ass was visible on the bed. Her breasts pushed at the fabric of her top, the deep shadow of her cleavage lined with sweat. Her hair trailed over her shoulders, almost reaching the tops of her breasts.

“It’s not in there,” I said simply.

She was up, she was moving. She was in front of me, breathing in my face. She didn’t shake with all that energy; she kept it bottled and bound inside. I imagined it swirling behind her eyes.

“Give it to me,” she said.

“I will.” My eyes fell over her full lips; the bright eyes that lacked the inquisitive earthiness of her sister but were filled with something more obvious, sinister, and lancing.

“Where is it?” she said. Her lips came together, puckered. “Give it to me,” she said darkly.

“Take off your shoes.”

…

I did not expect the slap. It came so quickly, one minute I was leering at her, the next I was staring at the floor. I shook myself, and cocked my head back. Wonyoung still looked mad, but satisfied.

“You can do that again, if you want.”

“You…” she started.

“Take them off.”

She remained planted to the ground, a buxom statue, a sweaty, organic embodiment of all my sexual demons. I wanted to peel off her clothes and taste every wet crevice she hid underneath them. My cock only hardened to think I had the time to do it. Provided she didn’t castrate me in the attempt. What tickled me, though, insofar as I could be tickled, was the glimpses of superiority that I caught from her time and again. She knew I wanted to fuck her; there could be no mistaking that; but did she recognize how hard I wanted to fuck her, how strenuously I needed to sink myself inside her, how badly I wanted to hold her, and squeeze her, and hear her curse me and groan? She thought I wanted her tits and ass. That was true enough. But did she know I wanted her, inside her body, her ignorant, evil little heart?

I reached into my pocket. The money appeared, slightly damp from the sweat of my body, but neatly folded in a metal clip. Wonyoung’s eyes registered the cash, but her mouth betrayed her. It was surprise that I saw. I smiled and tucked the cash away again.

“You said that was half of it.”

“No, that’s all of it. I just didn’t know how else to get you inside. And believe me, when I lose my clothes, you’re free to take it all. I’ll keep my word about that at least,” I said. “And you’ll get it. But the night’s not over.”

“No,” she said.

“Take them off, Wony.”

Without taking her eyes off me, she fiddled with her heel beneath her. I didn’t break the stare. I watched her descend, heard the clop of her heel hit the ground, then the other. Her toes slid the shoes from her feet, and slid them behind her. The heels must have been several inches, because now her nose was about level with my chin. We stood there in silence for a moment, her seething, me letting my cock harden against the fabric of my slacks. I could do anything with her, I thought. Malevolent thoughts swirled in my brain, but if I had to be honest, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

“You know what you’re here for?” I asked.

Her lips hardened to a tight line. My eyes led down her chin to the stiff, proud neck, to her deep cleavage, and the sparkling white dress. I wanted to throw her down and make her say my name. She never would, I thought.

“Are you going to say anything?”

“Let’s get this over with,” she said.

I reached out and drew her to me. She came without protest, though still stiffly. I let her feel me against her mound, our bodies still hot from the dancefloor. My mouth went to hers. But I was only kissing her lips. She didn’t open.

“I don’t have to put on a show for anyone,” she muttered into my tongue.

“Just me,” I said.

“Fuck you,” she said matter-of-factly.

I pulled away and nodded. “Go to the wall.” I pointed to the wall between the bathroom and the TV. She went. I waited so that I could watch her ass shift and sway under the shimmering material. How, I thought, how could a man know that was in the world and not want it? And how evil would he have to be to get it?

She turned when she reached it, looking only partly confused. She probably expected me to tell her to take it off. That wasn’t going to happen yet.

“Face the wall, Wony.”

She put a hand on it, then narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?” she said.

“I’m telling you what I want, No more questions. Face the wall. Put your hands on it.”

She did it quickly enough. She turned and laid her palms flat on the wall. But she didn’t trust me — and I couldn’t blame her — so she kept glancing behind, her eyes not failing to show her trepidation.

“Bend over,”

For once she did it without protest. This she understood. This she could see in her mind’s eye. Me, wanting her, plunging into her. Wonyoung’s hand slid down the wall as she bent at the waist. The skirt rode up the backs of her thighs, up to the bottoms of her tight little ass.

I slid the skirt the rest of the way. It nearly took my breath away. Wonyoung’s bare ass was taut, moist from the night’s exertions, the delectable handfuls of her bottom perky, round. And she wasn’t wearing a strip of clothing under there. No panties. Her pussy was shaved bare. I could tell because she bent over far enough for me to see it. I reached for her cheeks and pried them apart, to get a look at her asshole.

“What are you doing?” she growled, nearly sliding off the wall.

Annoying her, I thought. “I said no more questions.”

“Stop,” she said. My fingers dug deeper into her. Was it her asshole she was worried about? I wanted to spread those cheeks to make her uncomfortable. And it was working.

“You can yell out for whoever you want,” I said. “It’s just us tonight.”

She was turned from the wall, her hands still planted on it. “Just take it out and do it,” she hissed.

Almost business-like, I thought. I gently released her, letting her ass cheeks wobble, loving every bouncing inch of them. But I didn’t do it, at least not what Wonyoung intended. I got a good grip on her left hip, and arced my hand back, and delivered a swift smack to her right ass cheek.

Wonyoung let out a choked cry. Her hair whipped as she sank a demonic glare over her shoulder, at me. “Face the wall,” I said. She did. She pushed her hands into the wall and leaned back. I rubbed the reddened skin of her ass and swung back. I laid a second smack on her cheek, making her reel forward on her toes. “Ah!” she gasped.

I gripped her right hip, and raised my left hand. “You got me in a lot of trouble,” I said mildly, and brought my palm down on her thick little ass.

“AH!” She didn’t even try to stifle her gasp.

I slid my hands down her thighs, not stopping the slow journey of my fingertips until I reached the backs of her knees. I bent forward, my nose at her tailbone, and kissed between the fleshy meeting of her cheeks.

“Don’t…” she pleaded.

I stepped back. “Don’t what?” I spanked her again.

The white dress hung off her waist and I had to imagine what her breasts were doing under there. Without a bra, she must be hanging right against the fabric, something I could see if her long hair wasn’t in the way. But she was half naked, from the waist down, all that elegance bundled up and wrinkled at her waist, lower body planted in the carpet, anticipating her next spanking. ‘You knew what tonight was about,’ I said. I grabbed her ass roughly and spanked her hard on the right cheek. This time she swallowed her cry and released a tight exhalation. I could see her calves tense. “Didn’t you?” I said. I spanked her again. She went up high on her toes.

“Nuh!” she said.

“If you were my girlfriend, you’d be enjoying this right now,” I said.

“Fuck you,” she said.

I gave her another slap on the ass. She pressed closer to the wall.

“I asked you to come to my company retreat, and you show up without a bra and panties? Not very lady-like,” I said as I squeezed her cheeks. Then I gave her a sharp underarm smack, right between her thigh and ass.

“Ah!”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I bent over her. My lips drank in the sweat on her spine, wending a wet trail down to her tailbone again, down her cheek, to the flushed skin on her rump. “Can I kiss it better?”

She wiggled me off.

I pressed close to her. My hand sunk into the cleft of her ass until I found her labial folds. Without warning, I slipped a finger high up into her snatch. She was soaked.

“Agh!” Wonyoung growled. She peeled one hand off the wall and I pinned it back with my own. My shoes slid behind her heels to keep her at the wall and I bent over her while my fingers rimmed the inner edges of her pussy. “You… shit…” she groaned.

I bent my mouth to her ear. “What did you tell your sister?”

She laughed. This close I could smell and see the sweat running down her face, and from the line in her forehead I knew that my fingers in her were not without their reaction. Still, she laughed, ass out and bent over against the wall. So, I lubed up my thumb in her sticky pussy and pushed the button of her asshole until it sunk in.

“No,” she groaned.

“Push back, Wony.”

She did. My knuckles vanished within her tightness, and she drew herself closer to the wall, her orifices nearly free of my fingers.

“Push back.”

She sank herself back onto them.

The thought of her orifices just made me hotter, and I couldn’t stand the wet mess I was making on the inside of my slacks. With my free hand I reached down and undid my belt, telling Wonyoung not to stop pushing herself back and towards the wall. I pulled my pants and boxers down, my dick flipping up from the waistband, and hurriedly kicked my shoes off, kicking it all in a pile in front of the bathroom. I came up closer, till my cockhead was rested against her butt cheek, and snaked a finger of my free hand across her mouth, until my index broke past her lips. She tried to bite, but I ignored it. And soon she was sucking on my finger, pushing my left hand in and out of her ass and pussy.

“What did you tell her,” I said, returning to her ear. I wrapped my wet finger under her lips.

“I told her you liked to fuck me,” she said. “That you’re a pervert.”

“That’s true,” I said. I rubbed my dick back and forth on her tight cheeks. “But is that what you really told her?”

She laughed again. “Do you actually think you’re getting back together with her?”

It was something I still considered, but hearing Wonyoung say it didn’t make it sound any saner. I shoved my fingers deeper inside her.

“Ah! Don’t!”

“Don’t?” I said again. “Do you not know what you’re going to do tonight?”

She spat back her answer, the only honest answer, the one we’d both known since she’d hit the dancefloor. “I’m going to fuck you,” she said.

“That’s right,” I said. “I think you’re wet enough.”

She didn’t have an answer to that. But her body answered for her. Her juices were running between my fingers and dripping down the inside of her bare leg.

I pulled my fingers out and slid them up to her waist. She shuddered. Her whole body shook. Wonyoung sank lower into her position, the muscles in her back and legs straining, but not giving out. She was built for this, I thought. She was hard in all the necessary places to let me fuck her the way I wanted, to stay bent over against this hotel wall, soft in all the best places to take me standing up, deep. I had no doubt how deep I could go, as hard as I was for her, as wet and wide as her legs could spread. But I refused my aching cock, and that lathered pussy. I reeled back and spanked her again.

Wonyoung let out a shocked growl. “Stop!” she said.

I spanked her again. “You want to be fucked but not spanked?” I said.

“Fucking… asshole…” she growled, but it sounded half-hearted, caught in the lie.

“You were going to tell your dad I raped you when I’m not?” I said. “The knife at my throat. Your pussy on my cock? I didn’t think that was very funny.” I brought down my palm on her firm cheek. Its jiggle gave me a deep satisfaction.

Wonyoung growled again, but she laughed. It was a forced laugh, but still high, higher than the growls she made when my fingers were inside her. “I would have…” she said.

I spanked her again. Her head swung closer to the wall, but she was lower now, expecting to be fucked. She couldn’t pull herself away without falling, and I was locked behind her. She had to take the humiliation.

I pulled her dress farther up her back, exposing her smooth porcelain skin. I trailed my fingertips over her shoulder blades, digging my fingers gently under her ribs, wending down, squeezing her cheeks like I owned them.

“Why don’t you call him now?” I said. I swung back and spanked her left cheek. She rocked forward. “Unh.” I spanked her again. “Do it. Call for daddy.”

“You sick…” she groaned, then I slapped her ass — her shivering, red, tight ass — “Pervert!” she cried.

I squeezed her. My fingers teased, one after the other, the line of her moist pussy. “Say it,” I said.

“Ah!” she hissed as she felt my hand leave her skin, but she stuck her ass further out in readiness. When the spank came, she rolled with it, her hair brushing the smooth wall. “Ah!”

Pressed up against that wall I knew exactly where I fit. I grabbed myself, forced myself between her cheeks, and plunged my cock as deep into her soaked pussy as she could take me.

“AH. FUCK,” she cried.

Just as lightning fast, I slid out. Her juices came with me. There was a thick sheen of her fluid coating my cock, and a short trail of it that followed when I pulled out. Inside her, even for a moment, I knew my resolve would melt. I wanted back inside her as soon as possible. Wonyoung, however, was shaking, her legs quivering, her body rocking back and forth on her heels and toes. Her ass bent farther, and farther back, her waist gyrating, twisting like she had on the dancefloor, seeking my cock.

To my surprise, she pushed off the wall and reached behind her, pulling at the white dress and clawing it off her head. She was naked in an instant, the dress thrown beneath her. I reveled in the sight of that strong, supine body, braced against the wall.

“Just do it!” she screamed.

“Did you miss it, Wony?” I asked, rubbing my cock in the cleavage of her ass. Her body jerked at its sudden contact. “Do it,” she hissed.

“No,” I said as I put my hand on her ass. “Call for daddy.”

“You…” I spanked her. “Ah!” I spanked her harder on her tight right cheek. I gripped her cheeks possessively and laid another harsh smack on the other.

“Daddy…” she groaned.

“Say you’re sorry,”

“Fuck…” Wonyoung moaned, for the first time sounding tired. She relaxed against the wall. “Sorry… I’m sorry… daddy.”

I patted her rump. Then I gripped her hip, and guided my cock, between her pussy lips, up into that hot, wet lips.

“Ahh,” Wonyoung growled.

“Not so bad, is it?” I said. “When you apologize.”

“I hate you…”

I pulled out of that lovingly tight canal and dragged my wet cock along her leg. “Say it,”

“No,” she whined.

I spanked her.

“Fuck! I’m sorry daddy! Are you happy?”

“Yes,” I said, plunging my cock up inside her.

Wonyoung let out a breathless moan. “Harder,” she gasped. “Oh, God…”

I pulled out. Reeling back, Wonyoung let out a grunt of frustration. When she pushed her ass back to me I spanked it hard.

“Enough!” she shouted.

She whirled. The sound of her back colliding with the wall was loud, a fleshy thud. She tried not to wince when her tender bottom brushed against it. Her eyes were wide, not mad but almost crazed.

Her chest rose and fell. She was breathless, her sweat forming a trail that shined from her cleavage to her clean-shaven pussy. My hands were on her breasts in an instant. Then my mouth was on her.

“Just… do it!” she stuttered between my kisses.

“You don’t want to be spanked anymore?” I said, bending down. I rooted in my crumpled pants until I found the folded bills. I pushed them between her lips until she clamped down on them with her teeth.

I pulled off my shirt, then my socks. I trailed my hands down her arms and dragged them up above her head, then I descended on her chest, slathering her soft skin with wet kisses, popping one nipple in my mouth, balancing her full breasts in my greedy palms. Wonyoung didn’t protest. She kept her arms above her head, the money in her mouth, and I sank lower. I lapped up the sweat between her tits, drank it up from her bellybutton, going lower and lower, until I was at the wet trap of her pussy. Descending to my knees, I attacked her pussy like it was ripened fruit, first sucking up the wetness that collected at the vulva, then suckling at her exposed clitoris. Wonyoung grunted through the cash. Her hands jerked off the wall.

I dug in deeper, using my fingers to open her wet pussy, darting my tongue deeper inside her. Wonyoung jerked again, then sank her fingers into my hair. She had to, I realized. It was getting harder for her to stay on her feet. I listened to her groan again through the cash and let her unconscious sounds guide me further into her vagina.

I drank her up, what came pouring out of her, and it was danker than her sweat, unmistakeable vaginal fluid, thicker and pungent. Wonyoung ground her pussy into my face. I was so involved I didn’t notice her leg on my shoulder at first. But I felt it when the heel dug into my back.

Wonyoung pressed my head deeper between her leg, tilting her hips up to force more of herself into my mouth. She lifted her leg to steady herself, opening herself up wider. The cash tumbled from her mouth and hit me on the head. It fluttered to the ground, forgotten, when Wonyoung gave her first scream.

Like a lot of sounds Wonyoung made, it was hard for me to tell if this one was pleasure or exasperation, but suddenly she was sawing her pussy back and forth on my lips, insistently rubbing her clitoris on the soft indent in my upper lip. My tongue lapped at her, diving into her. The flood of her juice made me spit some back. It washed back over my mouth, covering it with sticky residue.

My cock was stiff as a pole between my legs. I reached down and gave it a firm squeeze, then ran my hand lovingly up the inside of Wonyoung’s knee. She slid down the wall slowly, the leg that was bent over me taking some time to roll off my shoulder. Cock in hand, on my knees, I presented it to her.

“You’re going to suck this now,” I said.

Wonyoung was past the point of arguing. She wiped her hair out of her eyes and leaned forward. I grabbed her shoulders first, her chin. I tilted her face up to mine. What I saw in her eyes was an exhausted sullenness, still the smoldering rebellion.

“Do you want to taste yourself?” I asked.

My tongue was out and her lips were on it, sucking up her own juices, letting her own stickiness coat her soft lips. I broke away and put my palm gently at the back of her neck.

Wonyoung’s lips wrapped around my dick.

I leaned back. I groaned deeply, at every fervid lick. She lapped at the slit, slathering her tongue around the swollen head, then took my member deeper to the back of her throat. Like a pro, she reached down to cup my balls.

I balked at the first sound of a gulp. “Don’t swallow,” I said. “Spit it out.”

She gave a rude noise and suddenly my balls were coated with precum and her saliva. Very soon the wetness was dripping from the base of my shaft to the floor, and Wonyoung’s fingers were massaging my balls, squeezing them just hard enough to make me groan.

She bobbed down lower. Her hand pushed my stomach, and I went back, my knees folding under me. Wonyoung crawled forward until she was on top, her throat opening above my cock until her lips were buried in my pubic bone. I twitched, and my cock bulged, and I had to pull her off or I would have cum right then and there. She came up gasping.

Her eyes were so wide I could see the whites in them under her long black lashes. She was mad, yes, but she was always mad at me; her nostrils flared as much from anger as from having her breath choked off by my wet cock.

“You like that?” she said proudly. “That make you feel big?”

I sat up on the floor, eye level with her. “Get on your hands and crawl to the mirror.” With only an eyebrow she squeezed all her contempt into that look. “Prick,” she said.

“Crawl,” I said. “Let me see that tight ass wiggle when you do it.”

She scowled, but she leaned down to the floor just the same. “Is that what it takes to make your dick hard?” she said.

“You would know.”

Wonyoung crawled, on her hands and knees, to the sliding closet and the full-length mirror. I watched her pass, every sweaty muscle on her lithe, slinking form gliding. When her ass moved past, I saw how red both cheeks were. She would be sore tomorrow, maybe even bruised. I remembered how long it took for the bite on my neck to heal and thought it might have been an even trade. That wasn’t true, but it made me feel better.

Just like it made me feel better to stand up and follow Wonyoung’s slow crawl to the closet mirror. My eyes travelled from her swaying rump to her body in the mirror. And her eyes were watching me. Her full tits were full on display. The tight ass on her rolled each time she drew up a knee to travel closer to the far side of the room. She didn’t say another word when she reached the mirror, just waited on her hands and knees for me to arrive.

I made her spread her legs. Then I kneeled down behind her.

My cock was hard and red, slick with her spit and the cum from her pussy. She was so wet it took little more than an insistent push for me to enter her. And when I did, I got to watch Wonyoung’s face as it filled her up. It made her mouth tilt down, in not quite a frown but a stiff little moue. And she got to see my smile as I kneeled behind her and placed my hands on her ass. I fucked her, and mounted her and mounted her, slowly, slowly wedging myself in. Wonyoung’s mouth widened, her shoulders broadening, her chest jutting out. The muscles in her neck and clavicle pulsed, then became more prominent as she took the weight on her arms.

I liked her on her knees. I would have said as much to her, but she knew that already. “See? That’s hard.” Then I spanked her.

She hadn’t expected it, but this time she got to see it. Her body rocked forward; her tits bounced against her arms. And I got to see, to my surprise, her shut her eyes and press her lips together, not wholly from pain but from something else, something that made her frown very much like pain, cross her brows very much like she was trying to expel my cock from her body, but something very much like she endured as much knowing what came next.

“Fuck me,” I said.

Her eyes opened slowly in the mirror. She leaned towards it, slowly pulling herself off my dick. Her thick pussy lips eased from my cock, leaving a glistening coat on my naked shaft. She pulled herself slowly and slowly, all the way until my head was just hanging on the tip of her pussy lips. She left it quivering there, her bent back shivering; not from the cold; there was enough heat radiating off the both of us to make a whole new layer of sweat burst from our bodies.

I spanked her.

Wonyoung cried out and drove herself back down on my cock. The jolt to my senses radiated from the base of my member to all the nerves in my body, and Wonyoung let out another cry when her tailbone impacted with my pelvis. Her eyes weren’t open anymore.

“Fuck me,” I said.

Wonyoung slid off my cock, this time on unsteadier limbs. She tried to speed it up, and it would have felt so much better if she had, but I gripped her hips fiercely and made sure she did it slow, slower even than the first time. This time I held her at bay, with my cockhead balanced at the outer edge of her pussy. With my other hand I wet my middle finger in her leaking sex and plugged it into her asshole. She bit her lip, but didn’t protest. I shoved it farther in, almost losing it up to the second knuckle. I let go of her hip and spanked her again.

Wonyoung cried out. She nearly bounced forward on my dick but I held her hip and pushed in tighter, grinding my dick deeper and deeper inside her. She barely muffled her breath, suddenly letting out a sharp, “Ah. Ah!”

“Fuck me, Wony” I said.

She slid off my cock like an uncoiled spring. I spanked her hard, my finger deep in her asshole. She drove herself back down on it. She buried me in her sopping sex. She was so wet now that her fluid was dribbling down my balls. I wormed my finger deeper into her asshole, until the only thing stopping it was the rest of my fingers. I thrust my hips, and Wonyoung thrust back until her ass mashed against my palm.

I pulled my finger out to sink my cock deeper inside her. She gasped when I curled my fingers over her hips. She pulled herself towards the mirror and shoved her body back onto my cock. She thrust so hard her breasts shook, her hair snapped, but the eyes stayed shut, clamped. I spanked her.

“Harder,” she grunted. I spanked her again.

“Harder!” She pulled off me and slammed her pussy down on my cock. I slapped her ass so hard my hand stung. ‘Ah!’ she growled. “Harder!” I spanked her again and she backed up on my cock, until she was drawing it in and out of her, and the thick sound of our mingling wetness made rude squashing and smacking noises.

I barely thrust, letting her do all the work, pistoning herself back and forth on me. Her hips were locked under my palms, ensuring that she always came back to my hard, straining member. I slapped her ass, spanking her with every downthrust. Wonyoung’s screams for harder melted into guttural cries that built in intensity. She was bouncing herself on my dick, lost to the world, moaning, screaming.

“Is this what it’s like to be your girlfriend?” she hissed.

I held onto myself as long as I could, letting the girl work her wicked power on my body, trying to hold myself back as well as I could, but it was only a matter of time. Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore her pace dropped off, and she arched her back, driving herself up and then down on my cock, instead of back and forth. She whipped her face up to the ceiling.

“Don’t…” she said. “Don’t pull out…”

I did the exact opposite. I lunged forward, forcing Wonyoung up on her knees. Her hands wildly thrust out in front of her, bracing herself on the mirror. Suddenly we were pressed together, up against the full-length mirror. I slid my hands around her chest and squeezed her breasts, hard. I had enough strength left to angle my hips and shove up, deep into her pussy. Wonyoung cried out.

“Open your eyes,” I said. Wonyoung’s eyes fluttered open; her mouth wide as she watched my face. I thrust her again and again against the mirror. Her body fell back against mine.

“Watch me cum inside of you,” I said.

“Ahh.” She moaned.

The rest of her response rose higher, breathlessly higher, as I came hard, and spilled my seed. She felt my balls twinge and I unleashed my thick ejaculate deep inside her pussy. Wonyoung was grinding herself down on me with extreme prejudice. For every spurt she pumped down harder, bouncing herself on me without ever pulling up too far. She kept me in her, rolling her hips around the base of my cock to milk her own panting climax.

“You never ask,” she moaned.

I sunk my teeth into her shoulder. She arched her neck back. Our bodies rolled in twisted motion, our sweat mingled, the stench of our bodies burning together steaming up the mirror. Her hair was thick and matted stuck to the skin of my neck, and her bare pussy lips ate up my cock, pressing harder and harder, her legs opening wider to fit me further inside while my balls clenched and continued to force my ejaculate up her canal.

“I’m going to fill you up,” I breathed into her ear, “and when you get my cock hard again, I’m going to do it again…” My dick swelled as I thrust. Her breath caught in her throat. “And again…” I pulled down and plunged up again. “And again…” Wonyoung’s hands left sweaty smears down the mirror’s face. The closet wobbled each time we pushed. “And again,” I said, and she grunted. “And again,” and she moaned.

Each time I spoke I thrust harder, and my dick stayed ramrod straight in her body, even as the cum dripped out of her and ran thickly off her lips and over my aching balls. I spanked her.

“Unh,” she groaned.

Her ass tightened and tingled under my palm. “Unh!” I spanked her again, my other hand leaving her breast to wrap around her stomach, forcing her down on my cock each time the spanking bounced her to the mirror. ‘Unh!’ she grunted. “Ahn! Ahh. Ahn. AHHN.”

Together we slid off the mirror. The perspiration on her tits and belly were enough to smear our reflection on the glass. She dropped to all fours again, me firmly planted inside her. I had begun to soften, but I wouldn’t leave her sopping pussy.

I let my cock slip in and out of her as I continued her spanking, letting them land rhythmically, gentler than before, in time with her breaths. All the while I watched the soaked space between her legs, the base of her pale ass cheeks red and smeared with sweat and our cum. At length I popped out, my dick softened but far from flaccid, still half-turgid at the sight of Wonyoung prone beneath me, and the grace of her body’s lithe muscles. I reached down to caress the thick fluid that collected at the lips of her pussy. Wonyoung hissed and leaned forward. I slid my fingers in. Her pelvis rocked back against my hand.

“Hard again,” she said.

I could no longer see her face in the mirror but I could practically hear the sneer that came with it. “Like you could get it up. You just blew your load inside me. You’re done. Let me get up and wash your cum out of my pussy.”

I rolled my fingers inside the front of her pussy lips. She shivered, her ass jiggling. “No, I think I’m going to let you squeeze me out one drop at a time.”

Without another word Wonyoung’s butt cheeks clenched and she thrust her hips out. I watched her pussy lips tighten over my hand, and squeeze a thimbleful of white cream from her slit. Her legs relaxed, and then she did it again. Both times she released a soft sigh as her tight pussy clenched on my fingers. Despite her orgasm, her body was still aroused.

“If you’re going to wash, I’m going to make sure you wash every one of your dirty little holes…” I murmured.

I pulled my fingers from her snatch and drew my fingertips up her crack. Her skin twitched, dancing away and then to my glistening digits. I found her anus and teased it with my fingered until I could shove two fingers inside with minimum difficulty. Her rectal muscles clamped down, but I was lubricated enough to slide deeper, and deeper.

Wonyoung let out a low mewl.

“If you’re so obsessed with my ass…” she groaned. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is? You’re done. Let me go wash so I can get the fuck out of here.”

“I got a better idea. Why don’t I put my mouth where your money is?”

I pulled my fingers out of her. I leaned down, gripped her ass cheeks with both hands and spread them apart. While Wonyoung was still yowling about that I brushed the tight bud of her asshole with my lips, and then I kissed it.

Wonyoung jolted forward as if I’d stuck her tailbone in an electrical socket. But my fingers bit into her soft flesh and kept her from wriggling free. My tongue darted out — and I won’t lie, it didn’t taste like peaches and cream; but the tight squirm of her muscle, the sudden reeling of her hips, the bewildered tone of her screech, was worth it. “Eugh!” she cried. ‘You pervert!’ She said it once more; hissed it, rather. “You sick pervert! You like that? You like to eat my ass? I bet you want to stick your dick in that again.”

I gave her asshole a big fat kiss and pulled back. “I know that’s right where you want me, Wonyoung.”

“Not gonna happen,” she said. She tried to pull away again, on her hands and knees, but I held her hips. It didn’t really seem like she tried that hard anyway.

“Your limp dick couldn’t even if you tried.” She said.

But she was wrong about that. Her pussy was wet and her body writhed at my touch and already I was hard again. I wiped my mouth on the back of my wrist and angled my cock towards her juicy ass. Lovingly, I brushed it up that winding curve.

“Is that right?” I said. “Tell me, do you think you can take the whole thing?” The muscles in her back rippled like a startled pond where I brushed my palm against it. I was growing even harder, and Wonyoung’s shoulders were shaking.

“Your little dick?” She laughed. “Please.”

“Yeah?” I said. I grabbed hold of my dick and slathered the wet head in the clear honey that dribbled from her slit. “My little dick huh?” I slid it between her tight, puffy pussy lips. I pushed and pushed, filling her again, taking my time, letting my blood course through my cock and widen me to my full girth again, straightening my cock and getting it tight and hard as I led it, slow inch by soaking inch, to the top of her uterus.

“Ah. Fuck...”

“Since it’s just a little dick, you shouldn’t have a problem fitting inside your big ass.” Wonyoung’s face suddenly appeared over her shoulder. My fresh bite marks were just beneath her burning eyes. “I do NOT have a big ass.”

“No,” I said. I pulled out of her. Her pupils temporarily rolled back inside her head. With my hand, I guided my cock up to that tight brown button hidden between her cheeks. ‘You have a beautiful ass though’ I said. “But I think it’s just the right size.” I rubbed the head against her asshole. “Why don’t we give it a try?”

Wonyoung’s hips must have been on a different wavelength than her mouth, because her pelvis curled and fell, rising like a sultry snake.

“Fuck you.”

I gripped her haunches and pushed. Her asshole was tight. “C’mon Wony. Don’t make me beg.”

“I do NOT have a big ass.”

“Why don’t you let me and my small dick decide on that?” I said. “Maybe you’ll barely even feel it.” With enough pressure I had managed to squeeze my head partway into her asshole. Her hips shook beneath my steadying palm.

“Anh,” Wonyoung moaned. “You’re obsessed with my ass.”

“Sure am,” I said. I pushed harder; she leaned back on her knees. “I’m obsessed with your tits, your ass, and your dirty little mouth. Open up.”

“Give it up,” she said. “I can still taste your cock at the back of my throat. Pull it out and get off me.”

“Not yet,” I said. “I haven’t given you the ass fucking you wanted.”

“I don’t…” she started, but I had my first inch inside her, and that choked off the rest of her words. “Ah…”

I squeezed her buttocks. “Ease up,” I said. “Let’s see how much you can fit.”

“Nuh…” she said. “No…” Her sphincter relaxed slightly, letting another half inch of me slide up her butt.

“I’ll push in,” I said, “and pull it out. And when I’m done, I’ll cum up your ass, and you can wash that out too.”

“No…” she groaned. She lowered her head. All that wet and tangled black hair fell over her shoulders, sliding off her neck and hanging to the ground. Her anus relaxed a little more and I plunged my wet cock further inside her tight rectum.

“Ah. Ahhn…”

“Think you can take the whole thing?” I said as I pushed in deeper.

Wonyoung grits her teeth and pushed air through her cheeks. She didn’t say another word. She bent forward on her hands and leaned back, and I retreated some, gave her tight ass a reprieve and a caress, and then gently slid forward again.

“Your sister said you were a real slut for an ass fucking,” I said darkly, watching my cock disappear inside Wonyoung’s butt cheeks. Her sweltering tightness was making my dick even harder. With the flat of my palm, I scooped the sweat from her back towards her cheeks, letting it trickle down her crack, then using it to soak my shaft as I held it and jerked myself into her asshole.

“Ah…” she whimpered. “She didn’t… tell you… shit…” she said.

“Pretty trusting of her,” I said, “telling her boyfriend what a slut her little sister is. Do you want me to stop? How’s that little dick?” I was halfway inside her and I could now let go of my shaft, letting Wonyoung’s muscles squeeze me deeper. I laid my hands on her ass and gave her another gentle spank.

“A-ha…” Wonyoung gasped.

“Good thing I’m such a gentleman,” I said. I reached up between her legs and found her clit. Slowly… I rolled the engorged button back and forth with my fingered, her juices soaking down to my knuckle. I slid my thumb lightly over the line of her slit. “Otherwise, I might take advantage.”

“Shut up,” she groaned. Her head rose with each push of my cock, each circle of my finger, and each gentle grazing of my thumb. I laid another soft spanking on her right buttock. “Stah-stop…”

“Do you really want me to stop, Wonyoung?” I said. “Or do you want me to fuck… your slutty…” I squeezed into her with my hips, “little ass. Can you take the whole thing?”

“I can take it…”

“Deeper?”

“Deeper…” she groaned.

Her whole body shook like she was about to have a fit. I couldn’t stand seeing those perky tits in the mirror, so I leaned forward and cupped them. They rose in my hand, the nipples zig-zagging in my palms. I bucked my hips, gliding my shaft up her colon. “Anh… f-fuck…”

“Deeper.”

“That’s a good girl.”

My stomach finally rested against her buttocks. She’d taken me all the way, the full length of my cock, every inch now stuffed securely in her quaking, writhing anus. I flexed my penis inside her, feeling the precum squirt, and Wonyoung uttered a sharp cry. We both rested for moment. I massaged her tits, rubbing them up and down her moist chest. Her nipples were hard as diamonds. I tweaked one; Wonyoung bit her lip and groaned. Then I pulled myself gently out, about halfway, before guiding it back into her hot depths. ‘Good thing your sister was wrong about you,’ I said. “I’d feel bad if I was fucking the slutty sister. She couldn’t help herself.”

Wonyoung seemed to struggle to find her words. My left hand still groped her tits but my right hand gone back between her legs to play with her pussy and clit. Wonyoung’s hips were alive with squirming sharp and herky jerky twists.

“I am not a slut,” she said.

I spanked her for that. “Where can you taste my cock, Wonyoung?” When she didn’t answer right away, I spanked her again when my cock was as deep inside her ass as I could fit it. I felt the spank resonate on her skin, and the vibration made my cock buzz inside her. Taking the cock and the spanking at once made Wonyoung’s ass writhe beneath me and her upper body swing lower to the floor.

“In my mouth…”

“Who went up to my hotel room without a bra or panties?” I drove my cock inside her and spanked. We both shivered.

“I’m not… a slut” she whined again, taking me up her ass.

“Whose cum is that I can feel leaking out your pussy?” I spanked her.

“Yoursss…”

“Whose cock is up your butt?”

Wonyoung whipped her hair back. She nearly screamed the words to the wall.

“My sister’s fucking boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I said. “Does that turn you on?” In response to my push, she opened up her anal muscles and let out a throaty groan. “Do you like that I can’t keep my dick out of you?”

She growled. “I don’t care where you stick your dick.” I thrust hard and she bent her elbows. “Ahn… fuck!”

With an audible squelch I pulled out of her. The thick coating on my cock was from the cum I’d unleashed inside her pussy, the new precum slathering my head and glans, her vaginal juices and sweat and more than that. I watched it drip off my cock and from her anus for a moment while she remained prostrate on the floor. I grabbed her hip; she tried to swing me off but I pulled her to the side. It didn’t take much strength at all to roll her on her back. She hardly fought it at all. Her perky tits were heaving, her body covered in sweat, her hair plastered to her face.

I crawled up on top of her, my dick slapping against her tummy. My mouth found hers, and we kissed furiously. Her hands found my dick and started jerking me. Hard and faster. “Not yet,” I groaned into her mouth.

“You’re gonna cum,” she said. “I can feel it...”

“Get up on the bed,” I said. “I’m going to cum in your ass.”

“No,” she groaned.

“You’re going to take it, Wony.” I growled back.

“You’ve cum enough,” she said, refusing to let go of my cock. She pumped it faster, and faster in her hand. My fingers wrapped her wrist like a vice and flung her off. She didn’t miss a beat, grabbed me with the other hand and kept pumping, a cruel smirk on her face.

I swatted the hand away. Panting, I got up on my knees. Her chest heaving, my eyes barely able to tear themselves away from the sight, I grabbed her arm. She didn’t come easily. I had to pull her; I had to heave her up, and she slapped at me and tried dodging me all the way; but I got her up on the bed and I rolled her on her back. She locked her legs together.

“Make me,” she said.

I pried them apart. That beautiful tight pussy looked sweet as heaven with its vertical smile but I was after the road less travel. I tilted her hips up until I saw her brown eye. I gripped my lubricated dick in my hand and rubbed it against her asshole. “Unh…” she groused.

I could actually see the twisted upturned nose this time, her folded brows. Her hands still pushed against me but her anus opened up. Before long I was pushing up inside her like her muscles were coated in grease. More or less, they were.

I rolled it up inside her until my balls were dangling on the mattress edge. Wonyoung grunted all the way. “Unh… uhh… unnh.” This position was a lot more uncomfortable for her, and her angry eyes told me so, but there was a hunger in those angry eyes that jolted and flared each time I retracted and slid myself back in. And from this position I now had full access to her pussy.

Better than that though, best of all, was that on her back, my dick up her crack, Wonyoung no longer could brace herself on her hands and knees. Her legs were in the air, her arms wide open on the bed. She couldn’t claim submission here; her limbs were free to flail and strike me as she pleased. But both arms and legs stayed open and limp, as she watched me spit and apply them, in vibrating circles, to her engorged clitoris.

“Fuck… you…” she groaned.

My balls were begging for release. My shaft was thick and tight inside her. But I nearly made myself blind trying not to cum. I slipped a finger and then two, up Wonyoung’s streaming cunt and she kept screaming, groaning, taunting me, gyrating her hips to pull herself up and down on my cock.

“Just cum… I know you wanted to.”

All pretense to gentleness in her ass was gone. I was thrusting myself in and out of her rectum like a racer pounding for the finish line. Wonyoung’s legs widened, her thighs clung tightly to my sides, her toes curled suspended above the bed. The bed slammed the headboard, the coils squeaked. And she reached out to brace herself, her palms on my stomach, not to stop me, to keep her body steady while her belly rolled and undulated. Her irises rolled back in her head till I saw the fluttering whites of her eyes.

“You first, Wony,”

“N-no…” she stammered out.

Then, sweat coating her forehead, her hair fanned wildly all about her head, she cracked a twitching, feeble grin.

“Jinyoung… said you were… such a nice guy.”

I thrust deeper up her asshole. “I do,” I panted. I was coming to the edge as I watched Wonyoung’s juices flow over my knuckles.

“Balls deep in my ass,” she grunted. ‘You want to see me cum?’ Her mouth hung open, her tongue bright pink beneath her white teeth. A trail of clear saliva left the corner of her lips. “You want to see me cum on your fucking cock?”

“Cum for me, Wony.”

“Grab my tits,” she groaned. I slowed my strokes and reached out, my hip pistoning slower to bend forward. I took two handfuls of those perky tits. Wonyoung’s hands splayed flat on top of mine and she arched her back.

“Harder…” she grunted. I plunged deeper, not faster, pulling out, then bucking my hips against her pelvis.

“Ahh… It hurts,” she grunted, but didn’t tell me to stop.  “Squeeze me,” she said. She repeated it: “Squeeze me.”

I squeezed her tits. Sweat burst from under my arms and on my forehead. I was at the end of my rope. I had to cum in this girl. She was gorgeous, wet, writhing, legs wide open and her butt plugged tighter. “Cum...” I said.

“Can’t… force me,” she said.

“Cum with my cock up your ass, Wony.” I arched my hips up. Her feet twitched, toes curling…

“Not a… slut,” she grunted.

I squeezed her tits. “Cum for me,” I said. “Show me what a good slutty little sister you are.”

“Anh,” Wonyoung grunted as I slid my left hand down her flat tummy and laid my thumb gently on her fat pink button. She hissed and bit her lip.

“Give your sister’s boyfriend a show, baby. Cum for me.” I punctuated each word with a smooth thrust into her tight asshole.

“Ah. Ah-ahhhh,” Wonyoung cried, rubbing her pussy against my hand and the fingers dancing over her clit.

“You know how badly I want to cum inside you. Just give it up,” I groaned.

Wonyoung shoved the fingers of her right hand into her mouth and began sucking and biting on herself. Her left hand cupped her breast. “Ahh god, you fucker…” she groaned. “Don’t…” she started. “Don’t stop. Don’t… don’t… don’t—”

“Give it to me, Wony,” I grunted. “Be my little slut.”

“Nah…”

“Be my pretty little slut.”

“I’m not… a slut,” she muttered, back arching, forehead shining.

“My slut.”

“Oh God!” she gasped. “Annh!”

“Yes,” I groaned. “Yes— Yes— Yes—” She grabbed my hips, and grabbed my sides. “Now,” she commanded. “Cum in my ass, you asshole!”

When she felt the initial spurt of my cum, she let out a full throated scream. It wracked her body and made her belly dance. She threw my hand off her clit and ground her ass way down on my cock, her ass tensing, toes curling. My ejaculate was nothing compared to the first, but her climax came like an operatic crescendo. She wriggled on me, letting the weight in her rectum tingle in her tightness, her clitoris engorged, and she screamed. She tightened every muscle on her body, every beautiful muscle. And she came. She came so hard I was almost frightened. But I’ve got a soft heart.

After I pulled myself out, she practically ran to the bathroom. It shut hard and stayed closed for a long time. I heard the shower, I heard her washing, and I heard the toilet flush. And I sat on the bed, stinking, wet and my balls limp on my inner thigh.

After more than a half hour, she emerged from the bathroom, steaming wet, wrapped in a towel with another wrapped over her head. She picked her way, queen of dignity, over the mess of clothes on the ground and pulled the money from the pile. She counted it.

“The bathroom’s free,” she said simply.

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure she would be there when I finished, or even that my clothes and bag would be. But I was coated in enough residue to never mind that for the moment, and took my time cleaning, took my time in the shower thinking about Wonyoung, her body, and us — whatever that was.

I emerged from the shower to a quiet room. The one lamp was on, giving off a dirty yellow glow in the corner, and it smelled now of a mixture of dirty sex and freshly washed bodies. Wonyoung was a dark shadow under the covers, her wet hair on the pillow furthest from me.

I sat down on the bed. “Are you sleeping?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. Soon, I was too.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up. There was a warm body beside me, almost curled against me. The breasts rose and fell on my ribs, the nipples rolling. And she felt good, whoever she was. So I slid my fingers down her back and grasped her tight buttocks.

“No. I’m so sore…”

“Did I hurt you?”

“You always hurt me,” she said. “You’re always rough with me. That’s how you fuck me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“No, you’re not.”

I noticed that she hadn’t pulled away from me, even as drowsy as she was. Tentatively, I slid my hands up her shoulders, up her back. “Don’t,” she warned.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” I said. “I’m just…”

“Just go back to sleep,” she murmured. “I’m staying here because I’m too tired to leave.”

“I am sorry,” I said adamantly. “I don’t mean to… actually hurt you.”

“Yes you do. Stop being an asshole,” she said.

In the solid darkness of the hotel, I could see absolutely nothing. All I could sense of her was her breath on my neck and the weight of her body. And her voice, rising up from the sheets.

“Rough sex is rough,” she said. “And that’s how it is.” Suddenly she bit my chest so hard I shrieked. “Jerk,” she said, when I’d tumbled back to the mattress. I leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she pulled away. “I said go back to sleep.”

“This might be the last time I ever see you,”

“Probably.”

“I didn’t…” I searched for the words. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She gave a mordant little laugh. “Yes, you did.”

“Okay, yes I did,” I said, “but I didn’t—”

“What are you trying to say?” she said. “Do you always babble like this after sex? Jesus Christ, and this is what my sister got.” She was unnaturally quiet. When she spoke again it was after she shifted against me under the covers. Her thigh draped over my cock.

“I’ve got my money back,” she said.

“So, this is the last time?”

“Probably,” she said. “Do you know what I actually hate about you?” She was quiet for a moment, then let loose a husky laugh. When she resumed speaking again, she was quieter.

“I wanted to fuck you,” she said. “That’s what I hate about you. I wanted a nice guy. I guess I didn’t want my sister’s nice guy. I wish you were a nice guy. I wish you were a better guy. If you were, you’d still be with Jinyoung and you never would have fucked me. But I wanted you to fuck me. I could have told you no. I didn’t even need the money. But it was wrong to fuck you, so I wanted to fuck you. I wanted you to show me how bad you had it. And you had it so bad, and then when you fucked me, you fucked me like you owned me, fucked me like you had to, like you couldn’t stand not being in me. All the teasing, your selfish arrogance. I really did hate it. I hated it so much it turned me on.”

“And it would be fine,” she went on, “if we met each other and it was like, hey, we hit it off or something. But I never would have met you if you hadn’t been fucking my sister. And you never would have fucked me if you hadn’t fucked my sister first. So, you are a scumbag. And you made me cum. You made me cum.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. ‘Maybe,’ I said, “maybe this works. Maybe that’s what it took to—” She cut me off with a harsh laugh.

“Are you serious? You don’t want to be in a relationship with me. You just want to fuck me. You don’t even know me.”

“I could start,” I said.

“No,” she said, laughing. “No. This is the situation: we have freaky stupid sex, and that’s it. Every time you tried to make it something more than that, it never was. If I hadn’t been into it from the beginning it never would have happened. But I am into it because… I don’t know.…Because, I did like you, actually. And when I found out you were just the same as any other guy, well, Surprise, surprise…”

“But you still fucked me.”

“You blackmailed me.”

“You said you didn’t need the money.”

“I didn’t,” she said. “I also didn’t need the fucking. But that didn’t stop you from taking what you wanted. I took, too.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “So do you like me or not?”

“You’re useful for one thing, at least. Jinyoung never went overboard talking about your sex life but I know for a fact you never fucked her like you fuck me.”

“No,” I admitted.

“Why? Cause I’m the other sister? Cause I’m hot? Don’t answer that. The answer’s yes.”

“Yes and no,” I said. “There’s something in you that I recognize, something in me. I’m not that nice of a guy, fine, but I was never honest with myself or with Jinyoung. I kept putting up a front.”

“You think you don’t do the same thing with me?”

“You do the same thing with me,” I shot back.

Her breath was hot on my face. “So, what’s your point?”

“Just that I do want to fuck you.”

“Great, I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“And I do… sort of… like you, in a weird… not entirely practical way.”

She was quiet. “Remember when I said you’re not as smart as you think you are?”

“Okay, fine. I don’t understand what this is but I don’t want you going away thinking this was all about just fucking your—”

“—my tits, and my ass and my pussy—”

“And your mouth, too. Yes, I wanted you, but I shouldn’t have ever asked you to demean yourself for me.”

“No,” she agreed. “But that’s what you wanted. And that’s what I wanted. And we let it happen. If I didn’t care more about fucking than about my sister, I would have told her a long time ago. You think good sex is enough to break up a relationship for? No. But it wasn’t my relationship. Jinyoung’s good at lots of things, lots of things that aren’t about fucking.”

“So, you’re saying I made the wrong choice.”

“Yeah.”

“Because it felt good.”

“Of course it did,” she said. We lapsed into a hot silence. Cautiously, I stroked the back of her head with my palm. She didn’t push me away.

“So where does that leave us?” I asked. “I mean, if I want to see you again, do I just call you up?”

“You really think you can fuck me whenever you want?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

“Well, we don’t have to find out. My sister would kill me if we dated. And I don’t want to date you.”

“So, I lost both of you.”

“Yeah,” she said, ‘but I was only in it for the sex.’ She rubbed her thigh against my cock. During our conversation it had grown until it pressed into her skin.

“Do you want to…” I started.

“No. I told you I’m so sore… you’re not getting another fucking from me tonight.”

“Yeah, well... How about a blowjob?”

[wysteria-bloom]

⚝ "oh shit you're crying okay"

Hazbin Hotel boys react to you crying at a party

Warnings : mentions of val. hate that motherfucker.

Genre : angst, comfort, fluff

A/n : bro I jump between fandom obsessions too much I need help. Why am I simping for THE DEVIL from THE BIBLE and A TV-HEAD MAN 😭😭 actually devastated with myself. Anyways Vox and Alastor's may be a bit longer because... yeah. Angel-Dust's is a friend relationship but you can interpret it differently if you are a dude lol

Characters : angel-dust, husk, alastor, vox, lucifer

▢ angel dust 𔘓

When he walked into the bathroom, he was shocked at first at the sight of you, feeling fear grip his heart.

Had Val got his hands on you when he was distracted? He would never forgive himself if he had-

"Toots, ya can't jus' go an' disappear on me like that," He began softly as he closed the bathroom door, locking it for privacy," had me tearin' out my hair."

You sniffed as you look up at him, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks swollen from tears," s-sorry..." you whimpered out, curling in on yourself a little more.

He grimaced at the dirty floor you were sitting on before maneuvering around you sit next to you, one of his arms pulling you into his side-embrace comfortingly.

"This party's fuckin' shitty, ain't it? Sorry for bringin' ya here, doll." He sighed out, hand caressing your side softly.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from sobbing as you shook your head vehemently," i-it's not that, Angel... you were only trying to cheer me up..." you furiously wiped at your eyes to stop more tears from falling," I just-... Fucking hate everything down here..."

He hummed, head leaning on top of yours," cheers to that." He droned out with a frown.

You looked up at him, his heart squeezing at the innocent look on your face. You weren't supposed to be down in a place like this, there was no way.

"Can we just... go get ice cream or something?" You then gulped, waving a hand," b-but if you're having fun-"

"Nah. I'd rather do one of Charlie's trust exercises than be in this shit-hole." He stood up smoothly and pulled you with him, keeping you close to him as he grinned toothily," I would kill for an ice cream right now."

▢ alastor ⍋

He didn't willingly want to be here, in fact he stayed for a total of 15 minutes to please Charlie before escaping outside to leave.

But the sight of you sitting on the steps outside sniffling to yourself made him pause in his long strides.

You had your head hung low, a red plastic cup sitting at your side alone.

You were prime for manipulation.

But... Alastor found himself being sympathetic. He breathed out a sigh before walking over to you," my, what do we have here? My dear, being out in the open in such a vulnerable state is a bold choice!" He exclaimed, grinning down at you, but it wasn't as sharp as it usually was.

You jumped at his sudden presence," Jesus-!" You looked up.

"Not quite!"

You seemed to relax at the sight of the red-haired demon and sighed in relief," Alastor..." you gave him a weak smile, wiping away at your tears," Wh-what brings you out here, huh? Needed fresh air?"

He sat down on the steps with you," As a matter of fact, I was planning my great escape from this wretched event!" He tilted his head at you, hair falling along with him as he regarded you with a knowing glint in his eyes," I believe you're well acquainted with the feeling, hmm?"

Your smile fell as you huffed, deciding it was useless to keep up a happy persona around Alastor when he was so good at reading right through you," You could say that."

"What bothers you so, my dear?" He gave you a closed-eyed smile, tugging at your cheek like an annoying auntie would do," perhaps your favourite radio demon can be of service to you."

He earned a giggle from you as you waved his hand away amusedly, making his expression soften at the sound.

"You're the only radio demon I know." You raised a brow at him in amusement.

He nodded with an exageratted shrug," I wouldn't have it any other way, dear."

You smiled genuinely at him, feeling your worries already disappearing," parties suck." You answered his previous question.

"Aha!" His smile looked like a grimace and his fluffy ears flattened as if an unpleasant memory was reminded to him," agreed."

"They're gross."

"Tell me about it!"

"And the people in it make me want to kill myself. Again."

He snapped his fingers at you," I knew we had something in common! Well-said, cher, very well-said~!" He pressed a hand to his heart - as if he had one.

As you laughed, your tears dried up and you leaned back a little," as for you being of service?..." You trailed off, referring back to his earlier inquiry. A soft smile made its way to your lips," I think you've helped enough already, Al."

The red demon's posture seemed to stiffen but relax, his grin curving gently which was his way of softening it," Wonderful to hear, my dear."

He gave you a gentle pat to the shoulder and you had never felt so comforted in that moment.

▢ husk ꩜

Before even attending the party, he knew something was up with you. You weren't smiling as much on the way there, and you were jumpy at his comforting touches.

Even so, you insited that you wanted to spend time with everyone at the party despite his assurances that you could stay home.

When he found you crying in the bathroom, he froze in his spot before grumbling to himself and closing the door behind him, not before giving a growl and a deadly glare at the demon that was whining about needing a piss.

He led you gently from the ground to a standing position before settling you on the toilet seat.

The silence between you both was soft and comforting, hanging in the air like a gentle caress of wind.

He got down on his knees in front of you and began to wipe away at your tears, a deep frown settled on his face.

You only stared into his eyes with your glassy ones, bottom lip trembling," my makeup probably looks so fucking gross..." you sobbed.

Husk snorted," should be the least of your worries, doll." When you finally stopped crying he huffed and flicked your forehead," you have some serious FOMO." He grumbled out, an amused smirk on his fluffy face.

You sniffled and nodded, choking back more tears," I know."

"And you need to know when to stop if you're uncomfortable."

You nodded again," I know.."

His brows furrowed," and you still look pretty with your makeup running down your face." His reassurance was sweet and charming despite the disgruntled expression on his face.

A watery smile broke onto your lips,"... Thank you." You breathed out softly.

"Wanna get the fuck outta here? There's a nice bar I know a few blocks away we could drink at. Just the two of us."

You hummed," Sounds awesome."

▢ vox ᯤ

When he agreed to go to this stupid party for Val, he wasn't expecting to run into something like this.

His greatest enemy, you, was sat outside with your head in your hands as you sobbed and cursed to yourself.

To be honest he was torn between making fun of you or just taking advantage of the situation and killing you.

But there was that little voice in the back of his coding that screamed to comfort you.

He groaned and ran his hands down his face," fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life..." He muttered to himself as he walked over to you.

He stood behind you and watched as you paused to look up at him, face puffy and pathetic.

He grinned wryly at the sight," Holy shit you're an ugly crier." He stated without thinking.

Your wide eyes turned half-lidded as you turned your attention away from him," Go fuck yourself, Vox. I'm not in the mood for your whiny baby shit." You grumbled out.

"Hey, hey. Whiny baby is too far, sweetheart. Take the insults down a few notches, yeah?" He then sat down next to you," treating me like this when about to comfort you. The fuckin' nerve of you."

You gave him a deadly glare, growling," Vox, leave. I told you I'm not in the fucking m-" you were interrupted by being pulled into a sudden embrace, making you shut up immediately.

There was a long awkward silence as you were pulled into Vox's side in a side-hug.

Then you spoke with a small voice,"... what is this." Was more of a demand than a question.

"Comfort." Vox replied casually when he was fucking sweating buckets.

"........ huh...." you bit your lip as you felt tears sting at your eyes,"... alright."

You leaned into him unknowingly, making him gush a little to himself. Why the fuck was he being soft right now? He didn't know.

"You looked hot tonight. All dolled up." He gritted out.

"Yeah? Looked? Past-tense?"

He nodded," you look like a wet-rag now."

You snorted," fuck you, man." You grumbled, and leaned your head onto his shoulder," fuck, I'm pathetic..."

"Yeah. But it's okay." He replied as comfortingly as he could but it just came out awkwardly," y'know parties are supposed to be fun? Why are you crying?"

"I hate my life? Or lack thereof?"

He hummed with a nod," Fair enough." Then he smiled widely," guess we have one thing in common, huh?"

You looked up at him before you sent him a slightly amused smirk," do we?"

He cleared his throat at your expression and looked away quickly, blush on his screen,"I-I mean.. yeah. Fucking sucks down here. Literal shit hole." Then he shrugged, trying to brush off the stutter of his heart," but... but at least you're not like... alone or whatever the fuck."

You stared for a moment, eyes softening as you nodded in agreement,"... Yeah. At least there's that, huh?"

You leaned back into his embrace with less tension in your body as Vox began to relax alongside you.

▢ lucifer morningstar ⚝

He came to this party just to make a brief appearance for his daughter's celebration of the hotel being rebuilt to be honest.

But he took quick note of how you had left very suddenly, mumbling to him about needing to take a breather outside. He was worried, of course, but he just left you in your lonesome until he got worried when you didn't return for 20 minutes.

When he walked outside onto the balcony of the hotel his eyes widened in horror at the sigh of you sobbing to yourself.

"Oh shit you're crying okay ummm," He walked over to you quickly, playing with his fingers awkwardly," Honey is everything okay? Do...do you need a hug?"

"Shit... sorry..." you mumbled looking up at him ashamedly from the floor, smiling pathetically as tears trailed down your cheeks," I.. I'm sorry you have to see me like this..."

He frowned deeply, his nervousness subsiding as he crouched down in front of you," Don't apologise for something so silly." He mumbled, grabbing on your hand and gently squeezing," what's wrong? Is it something I can help with?"

His concern was incredibly sweet and touching, not something you would expect from the King of Hell.

But here he was comforting you like you were the most precious treasure to him. And you were... aside from Charlie, for obvious reasons.

You sniffled and felt your tears gathering again at his concern, you bottom lip trembling. At the sight, he frowned," Oh, love... oh honey..." He brought you into a hug, arms wrapping securely around you as he let his wings embrace you as well," I'm here now... always will be..."

You nodded against him as you just cried your heart out.