#and some additional buddies!

[eatingsomegreeneggos]

Hi I really really love your Dora fan art!!! Would you be willing to draw some more of her just like doodles or something? You draw her so well!

Thank you!! 💗 I'm so happy to hear, yes absolutely, no problem!

[demonstars]

his group isn’t even all that small it’s so normal like george, sapnap, bad, skeppy, sam, parker, gia, sylvee, ant, velvet idk who im forgetting but that’s such a normal amount of close friends

SYLVEE DREAM BESTIESSSSSSSS

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

utter depravity? 👀 and ahh platonic sugar baby au my beloved

Utter Depravity is the document where I keep all my smut ideas. :3 It's my depraved little PWP document.

[hirazuki]

For @melkors-defense-attorney

This was the first and last time Mairon ever let him hold court in the traditional fashion. Everything from there on out was communicated through detailed written reports, directly on Mairon's desk XD

[elnotwoods]

Best of BL 2022

A little scrapbook of some of my favourite moments, characters and couples sprinkled with some of my own thoughts, comments and doodles.

May 2023 bring us many more of those!

[johnbly]

WIP game!

i was tagged by @tortoisesshells ✨

so i have two fics going one rn: 1) in the boat purgatory in at world's end, james comes across gov swann and the two have a final conversation together (not using that for this since i haven't done too much but something to look forward to i guess) and 2) bolt's "what if james had a dragon" fic and subsequent discussions and questions has me now doing a "what if hornblower had a dragon" fic so here is an excerpt from that:

“Who are you?”  The dragonet is speaking French, and internally Hornblower swears. Is French the only language the creature knows? It’s no issue for him, of course, but how can it be expected to be a British dragon if it only knows French? “Captain Horatio Hornblower, most recently of the HMS Sutherland,” he replies, also in French – awkwardly so, because it’s a ridiculously formal introduction to make to a dragon, but in light of never having conversed with one before he’s fallen back on the old habit of saying more than is necessary. “That is not a French name,” the dragon says. In English. “Non – no, it is not. You speak English, then?” “I do.” Pause. “That was a long introduction. I hope you don’t want me to use it whenever I want to call on you?” The idea of a dragon wanting to call on him at all is no less ridiculous than having a conversation with one, but it – he? The voice is deep – has a point. “You can call me 'Hornblower',” he says.

i don't remember who all is writing things that hasn't already been tagged, so if you see this and are a writer, feel free to share!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

btw on danny abosch's youtube channel he's posted a Sped Up and a Slowed Down version of every goosebumps the musical track, each of which i have already contributed at least one view to since discovering this just the other night

[kuromi-hoemie]

i can't believe i used all my tags on this. i have MORE TO SAY. honorable mentions i will not elaborate on: pikmin, runescape, OG animal crossing.

the reason for all my tags is because there's a difference between "most fun" and "most important" and feel like if they're important u should at least say why :3

[justaboutsnapped]

Why you shouldn’t support the upcoming game Black Myth: Wukong

Simply put, the creators behind Black Myth: Wukong are raging misogynists.

Founders and creatives of the studio have:

Joked about former female employees hypothetically doing prostitution

Used suggestive/objectifying/derogatory imagery & phrasing in their hiring flyers (under the cut), e.g. “In addition to hookup buddies, we promise to provide more thoughtful services” , “fatties fuck off”, etc.

Written entire think pieces on how video games don’t need female players or developers, how women are biologically inclined towards “softer” modes of gaming than men (there’s also a bit of homophobia mixed in through language such as “fuck sissies”), how some things should just be made for men, etc. “Fuck sissies, fuck tragic love stories, fuck moon-lit peach blossoms and flute-playing scholars! You don't need the reverse motivation of female players, you don't need to take care of those worms who just want to date chicks. Some things are just for men, their depression, their anger, their pain...”

Made numerous sexually explicit (& honestly incel-like) comments including ones about a female character in Black Myth: Wukong, e.g. “once you get used to this [character design] you can jerk off to it”, etc.

Boasted about how they’re losing followers, who must be women

To no one’s surprise, when people criticise the studio online, they’re met with vitriol about how they’re hypersensitive feminists, too politically correct, etc.

Chinese women have been YELLING non-stop on social media about how bad it is so it’s pretty depressing to see that a lot of non-Chinese gamers, even after reading an IGN article covering the situation, are apathetic. I get that a lot of people are excited about the novelty of a soulslike game based on Chinese mythology, but do you really want to support a studio that actively contributes towards and benefits from misogynistic gaming culture?

Talking about separating the artist from their art is bullshit if you're financially supporting them. Boycott! Pirate!

Here are some sources if you want to see detailed translations, learn more about the situation as well as the misogynistic gaming culture at large China:

[waloeders]

pov: your weird boss just told you that your outfit doesn't follow "company uniform policy"

introducing my po.rtal 2 si! his name is jupiter, though ill be tagging him as 👤.solaris for... reasons later to be revealed. he was originally a regular ape.rture employee in the IT department, working on the website side of things, but gets moved into testing for a short while, gets into an accident and as a result, is sent into hibernation. a few decades later, a certain robot wakes him in an attempt to escape the facility...

ref images above! ^

also this art partly inspired by mischa, i swear he's drawn this meme too?? yeagh,, in my tracing memes era i will b evolving slowly but surely to True Artist. first i have to practice lines + colours, i dont understand shading just yet but i will be. reading on it. and practicing

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO nice

Plot armor but it’s Bruce Wayne’s wealth.

Bruce is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce does not want to be one of the richest men in world.

He starts by implementing high starting salaries and full health care coverages for all levels at Wayne Enterprises. This in vastly improves retention and worker productivity, and WE profits soar. He increases PTO, grants generous parental and family leave, funds diversity initiatives, boosts salaries again. WE is ranked “#1 worker-friendly corporation”, and productively and profits soar again.

Ok, so clearly investing his workers isn’t the profit-destroying doomed strategy his peers claim it is. Bruce is going to keep doing it obviously (his next initiative is to ensure all part-time and contractors get the same benefits and pay as full time employees), but he is going to have to find a different way to dump his money.

But you know what else is supposed to be prohibitively expensive? Green and ethical initiatives. Yes, Bruce can do that. He creates and fund a 10 year plan to covert all Wayne facilities to renewable energy. He overhauls all factories to employ the best environmentally friendly practices and technologies. He cuts contracts with all suppliers that engage in unethical employment practices and pays for other to upgrade their equipment and facilities to meet WE’s new environmental and safety requirements. He spares no expense.

Yeah, Wayne Enterprises is so successful that they spin off an entire new business arm focused on helping other companies convert to environmentally friendly and safe practices like they did in an efficient, cost effective, successful way.

Admittedly, investing in his own company was probably never going to be the best way to get rid of his wealth. He slashes his own salary to a pittance (god knows he has more money than he could possibly know what to do with already) and keeps investing the profits back into the workers, and WE keeps responding with nearly terrifying success.

So WE is a no-go, and Bruce now has numerous angry billionaires on his back because they’ve been claiming all these measures he’s implementing are too expensive to justify for decades and they’re finding it a little hard to keep the wool over everyone’s eyes when Idiot Softheart Bruice Wayne has money spilling out his ears. BUT Bruce can invest in Gotham. That’ll go well, right?

Gotham’s infrastructure is the OSHA anti-Christ and even what little is up to code is constantly getting destroyed by Rogue attacks. Surely THAT will be a money sink.

Except the only non-corrupt employer in Gotham city is….Wayne Enterprises. Or contractors or companies or businesses that somehow, in some way or other, feed back to WE. Paying wholesale for improvement to Gotham’s infrastructure somehow increases WE’s profits.

Bruce funds a full system overhaul of Gotham hospital (it’s not his fault the best administrative system software is WE—he looked), he sets up foundations and trusts for shelters, free clinics, schools, meal plans, day care, literally anything he can think of.

Gotham continues to be a shithole. Bruce Wayne continues to be richer than god against his Batman-ingrained will.

Oh, and Bruice Wayne is no longer viewed as solely a spoiled idiot nepo baby. The public responds by investing in WE and anything else he owns, and stop doing this, please.

Bruce sets up a foundation to pay the college tuition of every Gotham citizen who applies. It’s so successful that within 10 years, donations from previous recipients more than cover incoming need, and Bruce can’t even donate to his own charity.

But by this time, Bruce has children. If he can’t get rid of his wealth, he can at least distribute it, right?

Except Dick Grayson absolutely refuses to receive any of his money, won’t touch his trust fund, and in fact has never been so successful and creative with his hacking skills as he is in dumping the money BACK on Bruce. Jason died and won’t legally resurrect to take his trust fund. Tim has his own inherited wealth, refuses to inherit more, and in fact happily joins forces with Dick to hack accounts and return whatever money he tries to give them. Cass has no concept of monetary wealth and gives him panicked, overwhelmed eyes whenever he so much as implies offering more than $100 at once. Damian is showing worrying signs of following in his precious Richard’s footsteps, and Babs barely allows him to fund tech for the Clocktower. At least Steph lets him pay for her tuition and uses his credit card to buy unholy amounts of Batburger. But that is hardly a drop in the ocean of Bruce’s wealth. And she won’t even accept a trust fund of only one million.

Jason wins for best-worst child though because he currently runs a very lucrative crime empire. And although he pours the vast, vast majority of his profits back into Crime Alley, whenever he gets a little too rich for his tastes, he dumps the money on Bruce. At this point, Bruce almost wishes he was being used for money laundering because then he’s at least not have the money.

So children—generous, kindhearted, stubborn till the day they die the little shits, children—are also out.

Bruce was funding the Justice League. But then finances were leaked, and the public had an outcry over one man holding so much sway over the world’s superheroes (nevermind Bruce is one of those superheroes—but the public can’t know that). So Bruce had to do some fancy PR trickery, concede to a policy of not receiving a majority of funds from one individual, and significantly decrease his contributions because no one could match his donations.

At his wits end, Bruce hires a team of accounts to search through every crinkle and crevice of tax law to find what loopholes or shortcuts can be avoided in order to pay his damn taxes to the MAX.

The results are horrifying. According to the strictest definition of the law, the government owes him money.

Bruce burns the report, buries any evidence as deeply as he can, and organizes a foundation to lobby for FAR higher taxation of the upper class.

All this, and Wayne Enterprises is happily chugging along, churning profit, expanding into new markets, growing in the stock market, and trying to force the credit and proportionate compensation on their increasingly horrified CEO.

Bruce Wayne is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce Wayne will never not be one of the richest men in the world.

But by GOD is he trying.

[xraynarvaez]

IIIIIIIIIIIIIII FINALLLLLLLY SAW SCREAM 5!!!!!

ahhh finally!!!! what did you think about it? i love the approach this movie took! and i'm nervous of what you think about Sam (she's the reason i was nervous the whole time about you watching it)? and hopefully Gale has really grown on you.

(it's not a spoiler for 6 cause everyone knew it before the movie but Neve Campbell (Sidney) isn't in the movie cause of her not getting paid what she deserves, so she's safe in 6)

[planetaryupscaled]

Just Roommates

Male OC x Ryujin

Tags: 30k, smut, cheating, oral, creampie

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just get our own place,” muttered Ryujin, gazing scornfully at the stack of lease renewal papers scattered atop the kitchen counter.

She loathed the idea of her and her boyfriend, Tae, signing away an additional year of their lives in the apartment they shared with his buddy from college.

“You know I can’t stand being around that arrogant piece of shit anymore...”

“I know you don’t like him, but Junho is my best friend, and it’s just unrealistic for us to try and afford a place on our own right now, babe,” Tae replied. “Just one more year. By then we should have enough saved up to move out on our own, and you’ll have your degree. We just have to make this small sacrifice for our future, and besides, I know you’ll warm up to him if you give him a chance,” he added.

“I seriously doubt that,” Ryujin said through her frown.

Her boyfriend’s logic was sound though, and she couldn’t deny it was the sensible choice. She had moved in with the two men only a month prior, and she and Tae were barely earning enough to afford the shared living space they currently had. An additional year of hardship would end with her finally achieving her bachelor’s degree, at which point she could start her career and be stable enough to gain more independence.

Tae studied Ryujin as she contemplated his reasoning. He handed her a pen, and to his relief, she took it and began adding her signature to the many pages.

“Thanks, babe. I know it’s not ideal, but I really appreciate your understanding.”

“Yeah, yeah... But we should really establish some new rules around here. I’m getting sick and tired of Junho bringing random sluts’ home and disturbing our peace.” Ryujin took the opportunity to try and gain a little more control in the household.

Junho treated the place like he owned it, and Tae always turned a blind eye, allowing his friend to walk all over him. It was one of several reasons why Ryujin despised living with their roommate.

“That’s fair... I’ll talk to him,” Tae responded, now adding his signature to the document. He didn’t enjoy the thought of confronting Junho about his habits, and secretly wished his girlfriend was a little more easy-going.

Just then, the apartment door swung open, and Junho strolled in with his usual confident gait and cocky smile.

“Hey, roomies!”

His eyes fell to the freshly inked lease agreement. “Oooh, so we made up our minds, did we?” The tall, well-dressed man shuffled in between the couple and picked up the pen to seal the deal. Ryujin had to stop herself from ripping up the papers on the spot.

“Yup. One more year together,” Tae answered, grinning.

“Well this calls for a drink, doesn’t it?” Junho announced rhetorically, trading glances with each of them as he added his name to the many pages. Tae grabbed a bottle of vodka and some glasses, and poured the three of them a shot.

After filling in the last blank, and slamming the pen down, Junho raised his glass. “To another fun year!” The trio drank their shots, one more reluctantly than the others, and Junho continued speaking. “I mean, I could afford this place on my own, but it’s way more fun having you guys around! Plus we all save a ton of cash this way.”

Ryujin visibly grimaced. The man’s arrogance never failed to disgust her. “Before you get too carried away, I think we should discuss some things,” she said.

Both men turned to her, Tae looking nervous. “I think you should treat Tae and I with a little more respect. We live here too, and it’s not fair that you’re constantly coming home really late with different women, not giving us a heads up, and then being... unreasonably loud all night.”

Junho remained silent for a few seconds, seemingly letting her words sink in. Ryujin had the brief thought that perhaps she had finally gotten through to him, until he spoke.

“Jealous much?” He said sarcastically, laughing.

She crossed her arms, fuming, and he added, “C’mon... I’m just kidding. Ryujin. I get it. I’ll be better about that. I promise.”

Junho extended his hand towards her and she rolled her eyes, but shook his hand anyway. Before releasing her from his firm grip, he murmured under his breath, “I’d rather take your sexy ass to bed any night of the week...”

Ryujin recoiled, her expression twisted in disgust. “You’re a fucking asshole!” She raised her eyebrows at Tae, suggesting he had better defend her in some way.

“I’m sure he’s just kidding around...” The boyfriend muttered.

“Of course I’m joking!” Junho bellowed. “I would never, ever, try to steal you from Tae here,” he said condescendingly, wrapping a muscled arm around his smaller friend and jostling him around.

“If you were single though-” Ryujin’s icy glare interrupted him. “I’m just saying you’re a catch, okay? Learn to take a compliment!”

“I’d prefer if you never complimented me again! I don’t want any of that from you,” she explained sternly. Junho’s crude comments highlighted another major reason she disliked him. He was always stealing suggestive looks at her, and making inappropriate remarks about her appearance. She felt as if he regarded her as nothing more than a sexual object. Whenever she brought it up to her boyfriend, he would minimize it, making excuses that his friend was just playing around, and that it was just his sense of humor.

“Alright, sheesh. Sorry...” Junho apologized with a hint of sarcasm.

The trio spent the rest of the night in relative peace, sipping drinks and discussing their days at work. Ryujin felt a mild sense of relief that she had at least confronted her unwanted roommate and finally spoken up for herself. Still, she knew that there was a long year ahead of her.

—

A few weeks later, Ryujin was finishing up an assignment on her laptop when a distressed looking Tae suddenly came home, far earlier than usual. “Everything okay, babe?” She asked worriedly, noticing he was carrying a large cardboard box.

“Fuck... I... Just got fired...” He replied, avoiding eye contact and dropping the container onto the kitchen counter.

“What!? Why?” Ryujin shoved her laptop to the side and rushed over to him.

Tae sighed heavily and began to explain, “I... It’s so fucking stupid... I backed up some sensitive documents on my personal drive so I could work on them here one night, and apparently that violates some confidentiality policy. I guess they scanned all the computers in the office looking for that sort of thing. I tried to explain, but they wouldn’t listen... HR just called me into an office and told me they had no choice but to let me go.”

Ryujin didn’t know what to say or do. She had never seen her boyfriend so distraught. “Can’t you just give them the files back?” She asked, knowing it probably didn’t make sense.

“They demanded I turn over the drive to them, which I did, but they said it was policy to terminate anyone who broke that rule... Fuck!” Tae was pacing around the room now, pulling at his hair. “Now any accounting job I look for is going to ask why I got fired. This is not good...”

“We’ll think of something,” she said reassuringly, not really believing her own words.

That night, the worried couple broke the bad news to their roommate.

“Well, what are you gonna do? Y’all gonna break this new lease on me already?” Junho asked, looking less calm than his usual self. “I was counting on your guys’ portion so I could invest more.”

“I don’t see any other option. There’s no way we’ll be able to afford rent right now. Any extra money we had has gone towards Ryujin’s student loans...” Tae lamented.

Junho fell silent for a minute or so, his eyes darting back and forth, when an idea occurred to him. “Tell you what, I’ll cover your share of the rent until you get a new job.”

“Huh? No... No, you can’t do that,” Tae brushed off his friend’s proposition.

“I can. I’d rather just front you the money for a bit than deal with trying to find a new roommate. Way too much of a hassle,” Junho argued.

“Bro, I appreciate the offer, but that’s asking way too much of you...I don’t even know how long it will take me to land another job.”

“I’m sure it won’t take that long. Besides, where would you even go? Everywhere remotely close to Ryujin’s school is just as expensive if not more, and where would you get the cash for a new security deposit and all that shit? As far as I can tell your options are here or the streets.”

Junho’s words hit both of them hard. They hadn’t even had the time to consider how desperate their situation was. He was right. As of right then, they didn’t have enough money to live anywhere, let alone even be approved as tenants with their current situation. Ryujin chimed in first, “I could try to find a part time job or something...”

“No, your focus is still getting your degree. I don’t want this to fuck up our future. Plus, that wouldn’t be enough income anyway,” Tae replied. “I guess... since there’s no other option... We’ll have to take you up on your offer, Bro. I’ll pay you back when I can of course.”

“Don’t worry about the money. You guys can start paying me back right away, in fact,” Junho said, grinning smugly. “Hear me out... You won’t owe me a dime for the rent I cover while you’re out of work, but... Ryujin has to sleep in my bed three nights a week.”

The room fell dead silent, the couple doubting they had heard him correctly. Tae simply muttered, “What?”

Ryujin felt her blood boiling, and stammered, “You must be fucking joking...”

Junho chimed in again before they could process his ridiculous demand any further. “I’m not joking, and before you get any ideas, it’s not a sexual thing at all... I would be spending a great deal of cash to help you guys out, and I would need something big in return that makes me feel like it’s worth it-”

“Not sexual my ass! What in the hell are you talking about?” Ryujin interrupted, her face bright crimson. She shot a glance at her boyfriend, shocked he wasn’t more outraged.

“Well, for one, I just prefer having a woman’s company. It helps me sleep better, but it’s getting a little tiresome having to go on all these dates just to find a new bed buddy. They always want a relationship, and I’m not interested, so I have to go out and find someone else all over again. It’s expensive too, and since I’ll be a lot shorter on cash in the near future, having Ryujin around will make that whole situation a lot easier on me,” Junho explained calmly.

“...Sleeping buddy? You expect us to believe that!?” Ryujin challenged him. “There’s a lot more than sleeping going on in there, which we are forced to listen to all the time by the way.”

“Sure, we usually end up fucking, but my point is that I want a break from all that without having to sleep alone every night.” Junho continued the level-headed explanation of his terms, despite the mortified look on his roommates’ faces. “Plus, it bothers me that you hate me so much, and this will give us some time to get better acquainted. It’s honestly a great deal for you guys. Just think it over, and let me know.” With that, he turned for his bedroom and left the dumbfounded couple standing awkwardly in silence.

“So... we’re obviously not doing that,” Ryujin said finally.

“Yeah, no way. We’ll explore our options more tomorrow,” Tae agreed.

“Why didn’t you say more? You just stood there while he suggested the most degrading thing! Some fucking best friend you got there...”

“I know... I’m sorry... I mean it is a lot of money. He just wants us to take it seriously I guess-”

“Are you actually defending that creep? What part of how we’re handling this isn’t fucking serious? To suggest that we pay him back like... ugh... like I’m some fucking whore...”

“Let’s just go to bed. We’ll figure something else out.” Tae muttered, feeling overwhelmed.

“I can’t believe you. Both of you!” The young girlfriend yelled in anger and stormed off towards her bedroom, slamming the door.

—

The next week or so was nothing short of problematic for the young couple. They did not discuss the preposterous proposition their roommate had made, and focused all of their energy on finding a solution. Tae and Ryujin spent hours browsing apartments and rooms to rent, but no matter how they crunched the numbers, there was simply no way they could afford to sustain themselves. The cost of rent had increased drastically in the entire region, and every listing they browsed left them feeling more desperate.

Ryujin avoided Junho entirely. The fact that he had referred to her as an object for trade made her skin crawl, and yet his twisted deal clawed at the back of her mind. The notion that all of their financial troubles could be washed away in the blink of an eye was becoming harder to ignore as the situation worsened.

Each passing day, she considered the offer a little more seriously, rationalizing away the absurdity of it.

One night, the couple lay in bed after a failed attempt to have sex. The dire circumstances had drained Tae of his libido, and his desire to share some shred of pleasure with Ryujin proved impossible. On the verge of tears, he whimpered, “What are we gonna do...”

Ryujin felt a pit in her stomach. They couldn’t go on living like this. She felt a sudden surge of guilt, knowing that she could end their suffering at any time. After an exasperated sigh, she mumbled, “What if... we just try it out... for one night...”

“No... There has to be another way...” Tae replied.

“But there isn’t. We just need more time. I’m willing to give it a try... As long as he plays by my rules.”

“Are you sure, babe?”

“Ugh... no... but I’ll do it for us. It would probably just be a few times until you find another job after all, right?”

“Right. I love you.”

“I love you too. Goodnight.” Ryujin curled up and tried to sleep, but the knowledge of what they had just agreed to had tied her stomach into knots.

—

The following day, after hours of unsuccessful job and apartment hunting, the couple were a bundle of nerves as they waited for Junho to get home from work. When the moment finally came, he could tell immediately that there was an abnormal energy in the air.

“What’s going on guys? Don’t tell me you found a new place...”

Tae cleared his throat. “Ehm... No... We... were talking, and...”

He didn’t need to finish for Junho to figure it out. His friend’s awkward speech pattern and Ryujin’s scornful body language made it quite clear.

“You’re agreeing to the deal?” Junho asked, grinning.

“Yeah...” Tae muttered.

“But just a trial! If you can prove to me that you’ll be a gentleman through this, and not your usual...” Ryujin had to stop herself from hurling one of several cutting insults that were on the tip of her tongue, “...self... Then maybe this can work out.”

“I will be the perfect, platonic roommate. I promise. Let’s drink to it!” Junho hurried to pour shots, and the three of them did their best to enjoy the evening. After several rounds of drinks and some light-hearted discussion, the group was about ready to call it a night. No one had made any mention of the impending strangeness that would occur when they eventually decided to go to bed, but the time had come.

Ryujin was feeling fairly intoxicated as she kissed her boyfriend goodnight. It was the strangest feeling knowing they were going into separate rooms, but she had made up her mind and wasn’t going to turn back now. Surprisingly, Junho had actually been tolerable for the past couple of hours. She knew he couldn’t have actually changed that quickly, but to see him at least making an effort was a good start. After reluctantly parting ways with Tae, Ryujin followed her roommate to his doorway.

“You’re wearing that to bed?” Junho asked, examining her outfit.

She hadn’t even thought about it. She would normally just strip down to her underwear or throw on a baggy t-shirt with nothing underneath before getting under the covers. Neither of those options would be suitable now. “Damn. Um... be right back.” She trotted to her own room, changed into some gym shorts and a tank top, and gave Tae another kiss before returning to Junho across the apartment. He was in the same spot, and held the door open for her to pass through.

“I know how to open a door you know...” She muttered.

“Perfect gentleman, remember?” Junho responded, chuckling.

Ryujin entered the room and noticed right away that it smelled different than hers. Some sort of foreign, masculine scent hung in the air, but it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. She realized she had never actually been inside his space before. The next thing she noticed was that the dwelling was surprisingly clean and tidy. She had figured a single guy like him would have been living more or less like a slob, as Tae had before she moved in.

“Which side is mine?” She asked, motioning towards the bed.

“I sleep on the side with the door so I can protect you if anything goes wrong,” he jested.

Ryujin rolled her eyes and sat at the far edge of the bed, which was the third discovery to subvert her expectations. The mattress seemed exceedingly comfortable, and she pressed it a few times with the palm of her hands to examine it.

“Good stuff, right?” He asked, watching her with a cocky smile.

“Not gonna lie,” she said, laying on her back and wiggling into the cushiony material a bit, “This might be the comfiest bed I’ve ever felt.”

“Well I have expensive taste,” Junho bragged. “Glad you like it though,” he added.

“Whatever... This is so fucking weird. Is it morning yet?” Ryujin complained.

“Not even close,” he answered wickedly.

“This whole thing was just a ploy to get under my skin, wasn’t it?” She asked.

“Maybe a little... Why do you hate me so much, anyway?” He asked, still smiling.

“If you don’t understand that by now, I don’t see the point of getting into it,” she snapped.

“Fair enough,” Junho said simply. He began unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it off of his torso.

“Dude, can’t you change in the closet or something?” Ryujin chided.

“What? I’m not getting naked or anything,” he stated as he pulled his pants down.

Ryujin looked away. “What the fuck, Junho.”

“Relaaax. I always sleep in my boxers. No big deal.”

Ryujin glanced at him again. She hated to admit it even to herself, but the man was in incredible shape. She could see how he was able to pick up women so consistently. If he wasn’t such a prick he- she shook the thought away and complained again, “Can’t you at least put a shirt on?”

“My room, my rules. By the way, I do take tips,” he joked, laughing at himself.

“You’re the worst...” Ryujin turned to her side, away from him, and decided that the best way to move forward was just to fall asleep as soon as possible. The bed shuffled a bit as he crawled into it next to her, but that was the last disturbance of the night.

—

The sun cast its rays through the blinds and onto Ryujin’s eyes, which she made no attempt to open yet. In her semi-awake state, she felt her boyfriend pressed up against her backside, with his hand on her hip. She then felt the unmistakable bulge of his hard cock against her ass. Her pussy was wet and craving attention. She had been abnormally horny lately due to the stresses of life getting in the way of their sex life. Ryujin slowly rocked her ass back and forth along his hardness, hoping to stir him awake and finally share a long awaited steamy sex session.

She reached back to free his erection and guide it into her dripping slit. It would be so hot for him to wake up inside of me, she thought. Her slender hand dipped into his waistband and wrapped around his shaft. She froze. Whatever she was holding felt foreign, and it was far too big to be Tae’s dick. Reality came rushing back to her and her eyes snapped open. This wasn’t her room; this wasn’t her bed; and the huge cock in her hand belonged to Junho.

Ryujin gasped audibly and quickly pulled her hand away from him. She turned to confirm, to her horror, that it was in fact Junho that she was snuggled up against. He appeared to be fast asleep, which was a relief. She carefully rolled away from him, taking care not to wake him. She realized she had somehow ended up on his side of the bed, a further incriminating detail she would be horrified for him to discover. Her eyes ran down his broad chest and chiseled abs, landing on his massive dick, which was still rock hard and now sticking out of his boxers. Her gaze lingered on it for several seconds. It didn’t even seem real. She had the thought to tuck it back into his underwear for a brief moment, to cover up the rest of the evidence of her mistake. Realizing how unnecessary that would be, she left the bed and exited the room.

As the scorching water of the shower poured over her, Ryujin tried to get the vision of her roommate’s naked body out of her mind. Her pussy ached, begging to be touched, but she would not allow herself to succumb to the temptation. Especially not with the image of Junho’s big cock so fresh in her thoughts. She couldn’t believe she had actually touched the thing, and had never imagined they could get that large. “It was an accident. I didn’t do anything wrong...” She repeated the phrase to herself as she dried off.

Ryujin returned to her own bedroom to find Tae was still asleep. She dropped her towel and climbed on top of him. She took his soft dick in her hands and tried to coax it to life. She desperately needed to get the sexual urges out of her system.

“Good morning, babe. Rise and shine,” she said sweetly.

Tae stirred finally and greeted his naked girlfriend. “How was your night?” He asked right away. She continued to fondle him, but his cock remained as limp as ever.

“It was fine... Weird, but fine,” she answered simply.

“He didn’t do anything... questionable?” Tae inquired.

“No... We just went to sleep. Other than feeling strange to be in the wrong bed, it was a pretty uneventful night overall.” She had decided to keep her awkward mistake to herself. It was too embarrassing and wasn’t worth bringing up since it was just an accident on her part.

“Well that’s good, I guess. Um... Sorry babe. I’m just not feeling it right now,” He muttered, glancing at his softness in her hands.

“That’s okay...” Ryujin tried to hide her disappointment. She had hoped that his sex drive would have improved now that their financial burdens were taken care of, but it made sense to her that it could take some time.

Unfortunately for her, Tae’s libido did not improve much over the next week. He always found some excuse to explain why it wasn’t the right time. Hoping it would improve the situation, Ryujin did not pressure him to look for work. It became apparent that he had stopped searching, but she reasoned that a break was probably healthy after all of the stress they had gone through. A little vacation never hurt anyone, she reminded herself as she observed him settling on the couch and clutching a video game controller.

As for the nights spent in Junho’s room, Ryujin was adjusting to the new routine. Luckily, nothing unsavory had happened since that first confusing morning in his bed. He would verbally tease her and find little ways to press her buttons, but she always had an insult ready to fire back at him. An onlooker might have called it flirting, but she was convinced that she still hated his guts.

Overall, the arrangement was going smoother than she had expected. In fact, Ryujin was surprised to find that she actually slept wonderfully in his luxurious, comfortable bed, and always woke up quite refreshed. Every morning though, she would find that she had soaked through her underwear and would sneak out in shame before Junho awoke. Her sexual appetite had not been addressed and her body was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Ryujin chalked it up to the recent lull in her and Tae’s sex life, but there was clearly a pattern emerging where her most lust-crazed mornings were in Junho’s bed.

One morning in particular, she noticed with dread that she had somehow become draped over him during the night, her cheek against his warm chest and her bare thigh across his crotch. She felt the familiar wetness between her legs and an unfamiliar hardness beneath her. Ryujin glanced down to find that Junho’s sizable morning wood had escaped his boxers and was trapped under her inner thigh, just inches away from her barely-clothed pussy. She cursed herself for unconsciously ending up in a dicey position with him again. She didn’t move, just laying still to collect her thoughts for a moment. His arm was on her, running down the length of her torso with his fingers resting on her ass. It would be difficult to move at all without waking him.

Ryujin’s cunt was on fire, and it took every ounce of self-control to stop herself from giving into the urge to grind against him. The thick mushroom tip of his cock seemed to stare at her, poking out from the soft skin of her upper leg. It looked so plump and juicy, at least twice the size of her boyfriend’s, and she couldn’t help but imagine how it might feel inside of her. If it were in any way possible to ensure he would remain asleep, Ryujin wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist guiding Junho’s hard dick into her dripping wet pussy. She had never felt so tempted in her life.

Finally, after several minutes of suppression, she managed to carefully squirm out of his embrace and free herself of the potential embarrassment of being discovered cuddling so intimately. To her relief, Junho didn’t stir in the slightest as she maneuvered her body off of his. He was seemingly out cold. Unburdened of her weight, his big cock stood tall, pointing straight at the ceiling.

Subconsciously, Ryujin’s hand had found its way down her shorts, and she lightly stroked her aching pussy while gawking at the exposed man. The pleasure hit her in an instant, her impossibly needy sex finally getting some stimulation. Before she fully realized what she was doing, the young girlfriend was firmly rubbing her clit next to her sleeping roommate.

Junho’s huge erection remained fully inflated throughout the duration of her sneaky self-indulgence, and she was fixated on it. She made a conscious effort not to lust over the annoying man beside her, but her mind wouldn’t let her ignore the physical specimen. That fat fucking cock was exactly what her body had been craving for weeks now, and the raw sight of it fueled her burgeoning climax.

Ryujin’s orgasm hit her hard. Her mouth hung open while she quivered on the bed for a solid minute. When the flood of endorphins pummeling her brain finally slowed, she felt a mix of satisfaction and disgust. It bothered her that she had given in to her body’s urges, especially because Junho had been the focal point. She hated him and his alluring cock for breaking her will. As silly and illogical as the thought was, she felt better about what she’d just done by shifting the blame. It was the damn boys that got her into this situation, and thus all of this was their fault. Ryujin took one last look at the nude man and quietly left the bedroom.

A smug grin spread across Junho’s face as he listened to her retreating footsteps. He had been awake the entire time, sneaking quick glances at Ryujin’s masturbation session. He stroked his dick to the thought of her sexy body writhing around on his sheets, knowing he now had the upper hand.

—

The following “Junho night”, as she began calling them, had Ryujin feeling more anxious than usual. She couldn’t control the movements her body made while sleeping, which made her nervous. She couldn’t bear the thought of him waking up first and finding her snuggled up against him. If he were to somehow discover how wet she was, he would never shut up about it. She tried not to worry about all of that as she got onto the far end of his bed and curled up. They traded a few sarcastic remarks while he stripped off his clothes, as usual, and the room fell silent.

“Uh... Ryujin?” Junho asked softly.

“What?” She asked, already rolling her eyes in anticipation of whatever he was about to say.

“Just thought I should mention. I’ve been like... extra horny recently. So, if I happen to have a big boner in the morning or something, I don’t want you to freak out,” he explained.

Ryujin scoffed at him. “Whatever man. Just keep it away from me.”

As Ryujin closed her eyes and tried to sleep, she began hearing a repetitive rubbing sound behind her. When it didn’t stop after several seconds, she turned to look at Junho’s side of the bed.

“Dude, what the hell is-”

The words caught in her throat as she saw that Junho had removed his underwear and was openly jerking off right in front of her.

“What the fuck!?” She shouted, bewildered by his actions.

“Shhhh!” He responded, looking at her sternly while his hand continued to pump up and down.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Ryujin threw the blanket off of her, readying herself to storm out of the room.

“I told you I was abnormally horny...”

“Well, take it to the bathroom or something!” She demanded, fuming.

“Oh, so you’re allowed to masturbate in here, but I’m not?” Junho sneered accusingly.

“I- What are you talking about?” Ryujin asked defensively, feeling her stomach drop.

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you the other morning going to town on your little cunt. Right there where you are now,” he accused her.

“What!? That’s bullshit!” She argued, knowing it was hopeless.

“We both know it isn’t. But hey, it’s fine. You have my permission to pleasure yourself in here as much as you want, just don’t expect me to play by a different set of rules. Fair is fair.”

Ryujin moved to get off of the bed. She was humiliated and needed to get away from him. “Where are you going?” Junho asked, still stroking himself with a steady rhythm. When she didn’t answer him, he added, “If you leave, I’ll tell Tae everything.” She froze. “About how his not-so innocent girlfriend couldn’t keep her body to herself, and got so worked up over the sight of my big dick that she played with herself right in front of me.

“You wouldn’t...” Ryujin muttered, half-standing with one knee still on the sheets.

He nodded threateningly. “Don’t ruin this whole arrangement just because you got a little horny. I’m still keeping my hands to myself. Unless you want them on you...”

“I don’t,” she said, defeated. She lay back down in silence, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, but continued watching him.

“Glad you decided to stay. Gotta admit I’d miss my favorite sleeping buddy if you called this deal off,” Junho teased.

“When I call it off,” she corrected him. “This is just a short term thing.”

“Well, I guess we better enjoy it while it lasts, right?”

“You’re certainly enjoying yourself...” She grumbled.

“You could be too...” He suggested.

“You wish,” she said dismissively, trying to ignore the growing heat between her thighs.

Junho was surprised that she still hadn’t looked away. He was having a great deal of fun taunting her while he openly played with himself. “So what do you think?”

“Huh?”

“How do I measure up?” He glanced at his cock, and then back at her.

“Pfft. You’re disgusting,” Ryujin muttered. She shuffled a bit as if to turn away from him, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking back at his performance.

“C’mon. You can’t deny I’m packing an impressive instrument here,” he teased.

“You seriously think that just cause you wag your big dick around I’m going to instantly drop my panties?”

“So you do admit that it’s big,” Junho retorted confidently.

Her face flushed crimson. “Ugh... You’re so annoying...” She flopped over onto her side, forcing herself to tear her eyes away from the scene.

“Ryujin...”

“What now?”

“I’m gonna cum. So hard,” he grunted.

She reluctantly turned to Junho again, just in time to see his thick cock jump and spurt a lengthy rope of semen straight into the air. Another creamy strand of his fluid shot out, and then another, each of them reaching preposterous heights before landing on his toned belly. Ryujin watched in amazement as her roommate ejaculated with more force and volume than she would’ve considered possible. On the surface she looked appalled to witness it, but her pussy burned with desire at the erotic showing.

“Fuck...” She murmured, lost for words and involuntarily squeezing her thighs together...

Junho cleaned himself off and settled into the bed. “Night,” he said smugly. He turned off the lamp and didn’t say another word to her.

Ryujin’s mind was racing. She couldn’t believe what had just taken place. How did things escalate so quickly? She just witnessed the man she despised jerk himself off to completion, and it left her extremely aroused, despite how badly she wanted to be disgusted. Her pussy was soaking wet and practically screaming at her to touch it. She tossed and turned for several minutes before ultimately losing the internal battle. Very quietly, her hand dipped into her shorts and she pressed her fingers into her aching entrance. For the second time that week, a conflicted Ryujin shamefully pleasured herself to orgasm in Junho’s bed.

—

The new routine had been established, and over the next several nights while they were together, Junho would strip completely naked and masturbate beside her. Ryujin would always act appalled, and call him out for being a pig, but she’d watch him anyway with a disapproving look. Eventually, she got comfortable enough to secretly touch herself under the blanket while he stroked one out, but she always waited until he was asleep to make herself cum. She couldn’t risk him knowing the effect he was having on her. She always came so hard after teasing herself while watching him, and privately began looking forward to her “Junho nights”, knowing the pleasure that would ensue.

One evening, as he fished his half-erect cock from his underwear, she asked him, “Do you do this every single night?”

He replied, “Honestly, only when you’re here.”

“Gross.” She scoffed.

“You’re so fucking hot, Ryujin. Just knowing you’re in my bed drives me crazy. It’s the only thing I can do to control myself,” he explained earnestly.

“Well, you’re disgusting, and you can’t have me,” she muttered, suppressing a grin. The rare compliment threw her off, and she couldn’t deny that it was flattering to know how intensely he lusted after her. It was a bit of a power trip realizing that she was off limits, yet so desirable that he had to beat off every time she was around.

Junho snickered. He knew it was just a matter of time before her will would shatter. “That’s fine. I’ll settle for my thoughts for now.”

“I can only imagine the perverted shit you conjure up in that thick skull of yours,” Ryujin said bitingly.

“Oh, I think you’d love it.”

“Try me.” Ryujin regretted the encouragement the second it left her lips. Her hidden lust had gotten the better of her.

Junho flashed a bright smile. “Well, speaking of trying you... I could, for instance, crawl between your legs right now and eat your little pussy until you were screaming for me to fuck you.”

His sudden directness spurred a small shockwave in her gut and her nipples hardened. “Pfft! You wouldn’t dare. You know this arrangement is over the minute you lay a finger on me, you ass.”

“It’s just a fantasy. Relax,” he replied calmly, still slowly stroking himself. “If that actually were to happen though... I’m positive you wouldn’t stop me.” Junho’s arrogance was making her blood boil, but her body was reacting to his dirty imagery. “Believe me though. I have a skilled tongue, and you’d be addicted to it in no time.”

“Fuck off. You are so damn full of yourself it’s sickening,” Ryujin remarked with her most disapproving expression. She could feel her pussy moistening by the second.

He noted that she hadn’t told him to stop yet. “Of course, that would just be the appetizer. Just a little warm up for the main event. Next, I would slowly kiss my way up your body until you felt this fat cock prod your slick entrance. That’s when the begging would really start...”

Ryujin’s cunt was burning now, and it took every ounce of self-control to stop herself from attending to it. She couldn’t help a swift glance at his engorged dick, picturing its considerable size stretching her open. She became aware that she was biting her lower lip, and lashed out in embarrassment. “Begging you to leave me the fuck alone, you creep!”

“You have no clue what you’re missing. I know exactly how to please a sexy woman like you. I’d have you creaming all over my big cock the entire night. One experience with a real man like me would blow your innocent little mind. Then I’d blow my thick load deep inside of you and seal the deal...” As he finished his sentence, Junho’s cock throbbed and began launching the heaviest strands of sticky semen she had seen yet as he let out a deep, breathy moan.

Ryujin’s hand shot down to her panties, but she stopped herself, desperately trying to maintain control. She was soaking wet, and her thighs squirmed ever so slightly. If not for the blanket, he would easily be able to see how turned on she was. The sex-starved girlfriend felt her pussy drooling as she imagined all of that milky cum coating her insides. No one had ever cum inside of her before, and she wondered why the idea of it was suddenly so insanely hot. She was at a loss for words, and mindlessly said, “You’re gross.”

The look of deep conflict on Ryujin’s face was clearly apparent to Junho, who was studying her reaction carefully as his climax ran its course. “Go ahead. Ryujin. I won’t tell...”

“Shut up.” She hated him for putting her in this position, but her body wanted to give in so badly.

“Touch yourself. I know you need it,” he persisted.

“I do not.” Ryujin lied. Even as she said it, her hand was sliding back down her torso beneath the blanket. Her body was winning the battle.

Unbeknownst to her, Junho could see the subtle movements and grinned victoriously. “Don’t deny yourself. It’s natural,” he encouraged.

“Shut up.” She muttered again. Her mind was racing as her fingers dipped into her underwear and finally made contact with her aching pussy. A spark of ecstasy rippled through her instantly, her brain pleading her to continue.

Junho watched as her hardened expression shifted slightly, revealing that her determination had finally broken. “That’s it... God you look hot.”

Ryujin wanted her arrogant roommate to say more dirty things to her. She despised that this was happening, but she was too far in now as she furiously rubbed her drenched cunt. “You don’t know anything...”

“Don’t be ashamed. We’re friends here.”

“No, we’re not. Ugh. I fucking hate you...” She said through clenched teeth. The pleasure was ramping up significantly, and her eyes drifted down to Junho’s shiny member. It had deflated slightly, but was still quite engorged as it lay across his abs, surrounded with his splattered semen. “...and your stupid big cock,” she added, practically whimpering.

“I’m going to fuck you with this stupid big cock one day,” Junho stated boldly.

“Nnooghh... No you aren’t...” Ryujin couldn’t believe she was getting off to his completely inappropriate threats. She could feel a powerful orgasm brewing.

“Yes I will. You will be my personal cum slut, and you will join me in bed every single night so I can give your needy little pussy all the attention it’s been craving.”

“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” Ryujin yelped far louder than she intended as her climax overwhelmed her. All control over her body slipped right through her fingers as her thighs clamped tightly together and she trembled on the sheets. Soft moans escaped her lips as visions of Junho sexually dominating her flashed through her mind. The intensity of her orgasm completely blindsided her, and it seemed to last minutes. As the pleasure finally waned, she opened her eyes to see her roommate’s shit eating grin.

“Well that was ridiculously sexy. Now I need to take care of this again,” he said, looking down at his revitalized erection. “Wanna help me out?”

“This never happened!” Ryujin flipped onto her side, facing away from him, and pulled the blanket tightly into her. She shut her eyes and tried to block out the shame that was taking hold of her. She had just openly pleasured herself right next to the man she supposedly loathed more than anyone else. Worse still, she had done it while he described how he was going to fuck her and make her his slut, all behind her boyfriend’s back. The situation had gotten so completely out of control that it didn’t even feel real. Maybe it was a dream, she thought. She let the hopeful idea live in her mind as she drifted off to sleep, the rhythmic sounds of Junho beating his meat again behind her.

The next couple of days proved to be quite awkward for Ryujin, and she avoided her roommate as much as possible. Everytime she caught a glimpse of him, she was reminded of what had transpired. The dirty, degrading things he had said to her swirled around in her head intrusively. No matter what she did to take her mind off of things, she felt insatiably horny. Her boyfriend Tae was still the opposite, and seemingly couldn’t be bothered with anything sexual.

On the next “Junho night” she was surprised when the usually boisterous man made no acknowledgment of their last session together. He still jerked off as usual, but mostly kept to himself and went to sleep without incident. She couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit disappointed, but also couldn’t allow herself to acknowledge it openly.

She half expected he would try to push the boundary further given the things he had mentioned. The sex-starved primitive part of her brain was so ready for him to assert himself, and her pussy drooled at the thought that she was ripe for the taking if he decided to have her. She was within arm’s reach, and her inability to control her urges had already been exposed by him. There was absolutely no way she was going to stoop so low as to encourage a repeat of the last time they were in bed together though. It was better this way, she told herself, sneaking a peak at his sexual display. It was weird enough how normalized his masturbation in her proximity had become, let alone her openly joining him again.

Though she convinced herself it wasn’t for him, Ryujin started wearing more revealing outfits around Junho. She’d pretend not to notice, but she enjoyed the ego boost whenever she caught him eye-balling her. She even began “accidentally” leaving his blanket off of her torso while he jerked off, so he could have a clear view of her considerable cleavage and flat tummy. She opted to remove her bra after getting into bed, rationalizing that it was just for her comfort. It was thrilling to tease him; to know that he was probably undressing her with his eyes while he pleasured himself.

She kept up the act for the most part, scoffing at him disapprovingly when he whipped out his big cock. She’d pretend to scroll on her phone while watching him in her peripheral vision and lightly teasing her pussy under the safety of the blanket. Slowly but surely, she was becoming more comfortable with the ritual and the notion that it was just a bit of harmless fun. She deserved to blow off steam given how deprived she had been lately. As long as they didn’t push it any further, she rationalized that she wasn’t technically cheating.

Things felt different in the apartment. Tae, though normally oblivious, started to pick up on the strange vibes. His girlfriend seemed to be wearing less clothing, and he thought he saw Junho checking her out a few times. The two of them seemed to be getting along a lot better, which was a pleasant change, but also slightly concerning. He noticed some kind of electricity between his roommates, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. He would ask from time to time how the sleeping agreement was going, and she would always shrug it off as “No big deal”.

Tae’s anxiety was worsened by the fact that Ryujin seemed generally upset with him for not trying harder to find employment, and had basically stopped trying to initiate sex after a string of several disappointing trials. They would engage in a daily argument about him being lazy and complacent to be out of work. The disheveled boyfriend inspected himself in the mirror with a frown. It had now been several weeks since he was fired, and he had really let himself go. He’d never been as fit as his more athletic buddy, but used to at least maintain some sort of standard. He knew he had to start taking control of his life again soon, but didn’t know if he had the strength to do it, especially with the embarrassment surrounding the truth of his job loss. A truth he had not disclosed to his girlfriend, and the reason why his friend was enjoying her overnight company on a regular basis.

To prove a point, Ryujin managed to land a part-time job at a retail store. It wasn’t ideal, but would at least give her a bit of spending money before her classes started back up. The other plus was that she wasn’t stuck in the apartment all day watching her boyfriend do nothing. The responsible thing to do would have been to put the money away and save up for a new place, freeing herself from the absurd sleeping arrangement. Instead, she spent her measly income on new clothes. Her employee discount aided in her rationalizing these purchases. What started out as picking out sensible outfits for her new job quickly devolved into acquiring skimpy workout attire and sexy nightwear. She’d never had the money to spend frivolously and was enjoying the opportunity to treat herself a little.

“Don’t look over here.” Ryujin’s request escaped her lips despite an internal battle to keep the transparent, attention-seeking comment to herself. She carefully removed her day clothes to reveal a particularly risque nightie she had picked up that afternoon. It left little to the imagination, and her toned, but curvaceous figure was on full display.

“Damn, you’re asking for it you know...” Junho said, completely disregarding her plea for privacy as he fished for his manhood.

“I said DON’T look!” She reprimanded him, jumping under the covers for protection. “It’s for Tae. I just wanted to try it out and make sure it’s actually comfy. Don’t get any ideas!” Ryujin’s focus dropped to his crotch, noting that her display had made the man instantly hard.

Junho gently ran his fingers up and down the impressive length of his shaft while studying the petite woman. The blanket had already conveniently fallen from her chest, and his eyes followed the distinct curves of her succulent tits. The thin, almost transparent fabric seemed to hug them perfectly, and he yearned to see more. He decided though, that patience was key. His conservative approach had been working wonderfully, and he needed to play his current hand a little bit longer.

“Ugh. Now you’re probably thinking really inappropriate things about me. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this...” Ryujin knew how obvious the act was, but her lust clouded her judgment.

“It’s pretty hot. I’m sure Tae will enjoy it,” he replied simply, still jerking off. He watched her cute nose flare ever so slightly at his unwillingness to take the bait. She can still enjoy the show, but it’s not FOR her until she submits more. He grinned arrogantly, eventually finishing himself off and unceremoniously cleaning up.

“You’re so obnoxious,” Ryujin muttered, turning away from him. The young girlfriend fell asleep more frustrated and unsatisfied than ever.

—

The following night, Junho returned home with an assortment of alcohol and insisted the group play drinking games together. They started with a simple card game, and within an hour each of them was feeling the effects of the potent liquid. The trio erupted in surprise and laughter as Tae flipped the final card, indicating that he would have to drink from the large glass they had been contributing to throughout the game. The intoxicated boyfriend winced as he tipped the foul mixture into his mouth, his roommates cheering him on. He managed to chug the entirety of it, gaining an applause from the group as he triumphantly slammed the glass to the table. His clumsy act caused Ryujin’s drink to fall over, splashing her clothes with the sugary substance.

She shrieked and jumped up from her chair while Tae stumbled to the kitchen for a towel. Without thinking it through, she hurriedly pulled off her top and shorts right there in the living room. Junho’s eyebrows shot up as he drank in the sight of his sexy roommate, suddenly in nothing but an exquisite set of lacy, black underwear. She patted the material all over, checking that it was dry.

“Woah-What’re you doing!?” Tae stammered as he realized his girlfriend had become half naked in front of their roommate.

“What? I- I didn’t want my new underwear to get stained!” The woman was clearly intoxicated and uninhibited. She shot Junho a glance, momentarily grasping the fact that she was exposed, and the hunger in his expression sent a tingling sensation from her nipples to her pussy.

“Well okay, but - shouldn’t you cover up now?” He suggested nervously.

“I dunno... It feels kind of nice! Don’t I look good?” She asked her boyfriend playfully. She was experiencing quite a thrill from showing off her body.

“Yeah, you look great, but...” Tae looked over at Junho, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I don’t mind.” The roommate stated, raising his hands in a half shrug. “If she feels comfortable, then go for it, right?”

“I guess so...” Tae slinked back into his chair, feeling defeated, and a little too drunk to form a cohesive argument.

“Thanks, babe!” Ryujin giggled and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. “So, what’s next?” She asked the group proudly, standing tall with her hands on her hips.

“Drink and drive?” Junho suggested. The group agreed, and filled up their drinks before taking a spot on the shared couch, the barely-clothed woman sitting between the two men, much to Tae’s dismay. The three buzzed roommates enjoyed a few rounds of competitive video game racing, while downing more drinks throughout.

The furniture was plenty large enough to accommodate all of them, yet Ryujin found herself sandwiched tightly between the much larger men. She didn’t complain though, secretly enjoying the warmth of Junho’s bare thigh against hers. His masculine scent filled her nostrils as she privately compared the two males on either side of her. One was tanned and muscled, the other pale and flabby. As more drinks filled her belly, she loosed up further, shoving her body into her roommate’s flirtatiously whenever the events of the game called for it. He even squeezed her smooth thighs a few times, which only increased her arousal.

Junho was rock hard for the entirety of the game, stealing several lengthy glances down Ryujin’s bra while the others were too immersed to notice. He had to have her, and his cock ached for release as he enjoyed the sensation of her luscious legs against his.

Eventually, the trio decided it was time to hit the sack. Ryujin, stumbling slightly, followed her tall roommate to his room, leaning on him for stability.

“Babe...” Tae whined, looking at her accusingly. “It’s an us night. You’re going the wrong way...” He had already witnessed the pair flirting pretty consistently throughout the evening, and seeing his girl’s hand wrapped around his friend’s large bicep filled him with jealousy.

“Oh! Are you sure?” She asked, feeling embarrassed.

“Yeah... You slept in there last night, remember?” He was right, and she shamefully let go of the muscled arm.

“My bad... I guess I’m a little more tipsy than I thought...” She couldn’t show it, but the young girlfriend was disappointed. She was intensely horny, and had been looking forward to her routine of playing with her pussy while pretending to be disinterested in Junho’s big cock. She knew Tae wouldn’t be up for anything sexual.

“Hang on. How about one more race?” Junho asked mischievously, staring his friend down. He’d hoped the boyfriend had become too drunk to notice the mistake, and now had to think on his feet. Tae simply shook his head, knowing where this was going. The confident man added, “If I win, I get a bonus Ryujin night tonight; but If I lose, we change the arrangement to only once per week instead of three, permanently.” His offer hung in the air for several seconds while the room contemplated.

“What’s the point even? It’s not like you get to - to...” Tae couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, but the implication was understood. He tried to shake away the painful thought of the man taking advantage of his girlfriend.

“I know dude. It’s not about that,” Junho said reassuringly.

“It’s just one last silly bet to end the night on. I want to feel like I won a prize, you know?”

“I dunno...” Tae muttered sheepishly, looking towards Ryujin to gauge her reaction. She just stood there silently, waiting to see how it would play out. His mind was a swirling mix of conflicting thoughts. He should just outright refuse, but if he won, then he would have a lot more of her to himself. He did feel he was the better gamer, and the alcohol gave him just enough confidence to weakly agree. “Fine... let’s do it.”

Ryujin’s heart lept in her chest as the events unfolded in front of her. She felt objectified; a bargaining chip to be turned over to the victor. It reminded her of the origin of the agreement that now felt like it happened so long ago. Things were different now, and instead of feeling disgusted, she found the whole ordeal to be an incredible turn on. She stood there in her skimpy underwear, waiting with great anticipation for the two males to decide who got to claim her for the night. She secretly hoped it would be her big dicked roommate.

The race was on, both men focusing intently on the screen and clutching their controllers tightly. It was anyone’s game, as they both traded the first place position several times while the finish line drew nearer.

“You got this babe!” Ryujin cheered for her boyfriend, her barely contained breasts jiggling in their lacy enclosure as she bounced with excitement. Tae pulled ahead, looking like he was set to win, when one of his girlfriend’s tits popped out, greeting the room in its full fleshy glory. “Oops!” She laughed.

Her exposed chest caught Tae’s eye, and he shot her a look of disgust. “Ryujin!? What the fuck?” The momentary distraction was enough for him to take the final turn a little too widely, and Junho took the lead. “No, no, no!” He smashed his buttons in a futile attempt to make up the distance, but the race was lost.

“Woo!” Ryujin exclaimed, accidentally letting her joy at the result slip off of her tongue. She met eyes with her fuming boyfriend and tucked her breast back into the bra. “Awww, babe! I’m sorry!”

“What the fuck was that!?” Tae screamed at her, slamming his controller onto the table.

“I didn’t mean to! I swear, it just got loose while I was cheering you on!”

“Well that’s not fair! Another race!” He demanded, his face beet red.

“Sorry bro, a deal’s a deal. Accidents happen,” Junho said calmly standing from his seat.

“But...” Tae looked at his almost nude girlfriend in disbelief, her small frame eclipsed by his large roommate who approached her. She simply shrugged.

“You did really well! Sorry I accidentally distracted you...” While she was telling the truth about the wardrobe malfunction, she put on an act to mirror his disappointment, pouting as she walked over and gave him a peck on the lips. “See you tomorrow, babe. Goodnight.” Tae slumped into the couch, his head spinning as he watched the beauty disappear behind Junho’s door.

Ryujin wasn’t sure what to expect as she sat on her side of the bed, resting her back against the cool, cushioned headboard. The first thing she noticed was that her sleeping mate had gotten into bed with his boxers still on, and was idly tapping at his phone. She lay there for several minutes wondering when he would inevitably start the stroking session, but he didn’t. She hated herself for letting it bother her, yet couldn’t help but ask about it.

“Wow, no self-service tonight, huh?”

Junho replied, “Sorry to disappoint. I guess your body all covered up and hidden isn’t doing it for me anymore.” He was determined to make her work for it, and focused his thoughts on anything other than the sexy body next to him to maintain self control.

“What is your imagination broken or something?” She teased, glancing at the flaccid bulge in his underwear. She felt an urge to do something to awaken it. It was almost as if his lack of an erection was a personal insult to her. After no response from him, she made a transparent excuse.

“Eh... Well it’s a pretty hot night anyway...” She pulled the rest of the blanket off of her, revealing her long, smooth legs and adjusting her bra to push up her swelling chest as much as possible.

They both feigned an interest in their phones, while secretly stealing glances at each other. Ryujin noticed his crotch had swelled a bit, and commented on his half-boner. “Hm. I guess something is doing it for you now...” She said slyly.

“Maybe a little,” he responded casually. The man knew she was bothered by his lack of interest, and it was a joy to watch her squirm.

Ryujin’s annoyance hit a tipping point, and she rose to her knees, facing him. “Oh, so all of a sudden I’m just not hot enough huh?” As soon as the words left her lips she felt the sting of embarrassment.

Junho looked at her smugly. “You’re pretty hot, it’s just I’ve seen it all before, ya know?”

Ryujin subconsciously tugged her bra down a little further. “I’m already showing so much! Don’t you like this little number? I can’t believe it’s all I’ve been wearing all night.”

“Mhmm...”

“I think you’re just trying to get me naked...” Ryujin added.

Junho said nothing, but stared at her chest intently. It was now a game of chicken, and Ryujin was fully invested in the challenge of making him hard by the mere sight of her.

She slowly pulled her lacy bra further and further down her chest, and as more of her soft, perky tits were revealed, his cock grew in size. Finally, as the material had stretched as far as it could go, she reached in and scooped her breasts out of their prison, and they stood proudly out in the open.

Quite pleased with herself, she looked at his fully enlarged bulge, which was straining against the fabric of his boxers. “I guess you couldn’t help yourself,” she said victoriously. “Aren’t you gonna play with it?”

“I’d really prefer if you did,” Junho replied. Her tits looked better than he could’ve imagined, but he had to hold back just a little longer if he was going to ensure access.

“Well... That’s against the rules,” she argued.

“So was rubbing your pussy,” he said.

“No, that was different...” She was losing steam.

“Uh huh... Why are you so horny for my cock, Ryujin?”

“I’m not...” She could hardly believe her own actions. Here she was, in nothing but a thong, trying to tease her roommate into jerking off in front of her. It was beyond ridiculous, but in the heat of the moment, she didn’t have the strength to stop herself.

“You haven’t taken your eyes off of it. And your nipples are hard,” he argued. Fighting the compulsion to attack her alluring chest mouth-first.

Ryujin blushed and deflected, “Doesn’t it hurt? Constrained all tightly like that?”

“As a matter of fact, it is very uncomfortable. Now help me out.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She teased.

“So would you,” Junho said as he reached out and gently took her hand in his. He slowly guided her to his crotch and rested her on his bulge. He lightly stroked himself using her fingers, and looked at her to gauge her reaction. She said nothing, and remained fixated on what he was doing. He then moved her fingers to his waistband and left them there.

“All you have to do is pull this down and it will be freed.”

“...I... Can’t-”

“Do it...”

Despite her better judgment, Ryujin tugged at his boxers and his thick, swollen cock sprang out, waving back and forth a few times before settling into its straight, rigid position. Junho took her hand again and wrapped her fingers around the shaft. It was radiating heat, and looked even bigger up close in her small hand. She unknowingly held her breath as she eased her fingers up and down the impressive length. It was so much larger than Tae’s, and she felt mesmerized by it. It was as if she was carefully examining some otherworldly object.

“Mmm... You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this...” Junho cooed, snapping her out of her daze and fully removing his underwear.

“Well don’t get used to it. This is a one time thing,” she muttered in an attempt to maintain some semblance of self control.

Ryujin had a feeling she would never live up to those words as she squeezed his hardness. She made herself more comfortable, laying on her side and propping herself up on her free elbow. Her face was just inches from his bare chest as she worked her hand along his meaty shaft.

“I’m just curious, that’s all...” She murmured distractedly, admiring the weight of him in her grip. She traced the tip of the head down to the base with her finger tips, and cupped her balls in her palm. They seemed so heavy and full, which made perfect sense to her given the sheer volume of semen he would always unleash.

Junho’s idle hands also began wandering, and he softly ran his fingers through her hair. While whispering words of encouragement to her, he slowly stroked her down the length of her back, grinning upon noticing goosebumps forming on her shoulders. He traced lines up and down her spine, barely making contact and causing her to shiver with delight. He could hardly believe it was actually happening. His best friend’s girl, whom he’d wanted to fuck since the moment he met her, was willingly caressing his cock. The fact that she had always been so standoffish and rude to him made the moment all the sweeter.

Ryujin was so consumed with studying his manhood that she barely noticed when Junho started touching her. It wasn’t until he made contact with her plump ass cheek that she paused.

“Hey... stop that,” she said weakly.

“Oh, be quiet,” he responded light-heartedly, reciprocating her unconvincing protest.

She began pumping his cock, allowing him to squeeze her ass, which was all the encouragement he needed to take it further. He rested his palm on her shoulder and pushed her down into the bed so that she was flat on her back beside him. He then shifted down to her level and placed his muscular arm on her abdomen, holding her in place as well as giving him access to her lower half.

“What are you doing!?” Ryujin cried out with a mix of nervousness and excitement. She grabbed his thick forearm with both hands to try and stop the inevitable, but he was already testing the wetness of her thong.

“Junho, stop,” Ryujin said urgently, trying to sound like she meant it.

“Make me,” he replied as he slid his fingers under the damp fabric and touched her dripping pussy for the first time.

Ryujin squirmed as he caressed her most sensitive area. It felt like her last line of defense was being bombarded; the private part of her, reserved for her boyfriend, under assault. The pleasure hit her immediately though, and after hopelessly struggling under his strength for a short while, she began to give in to it.

“Nnghh... Please!” She wasn’t even sure what she was pleading for anymore, whether it be to stop or continue.

“We both know you need this,” he said with authority as he dipped two fingers into her and started hooking them back and forth. His elbow dug into her chest as she struggled against him, his digits fully penetrating her. With his other hand, he grabbed her soft tit and squeezed. He switched between mauling the flesh of her breasts and pinching her stiff nipples, all while firmly stimulating her g spot.

Ryujin moaned openly as Junho continued to grope and finger her. His strong hands were doing things to her that she couldn’t possibly achieve on her own. She was completely overwhelmed. The loud squishing sound from her pussy almost seemed to sing of her body’s consent as he dug into it. She could scream for her boyfriend, but her brain wouldn’t allow it. The pleasure was too great, and her intense craving for it had gone on too long. There was nothing she could do but lay there and take it.

“Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever felt a cunt this wet. You must be loving this,” Junho muttered.

He was right. She could feel her juices gushing like never before, as if her body instinctively knew how to prepare for an encounter with such a dominant, masculine partner. A movement in the corner of her eye reminded her of his monstrous cock, and without thinking she reached out to take it. She pumped it hard in her closed fist, mirroring the intensity he was unleashing on her sex. She was suddenly overcome with the desire to make him cum; to witness his incredible manhood explode by her own hand.

“Ugh, just like that baby,” Junho cooed, elated that she had warmed up enough to reciprocate. He was determined to orgasm along with her, and ride the high together. The sight of her naked form sprawled out in front of him was enough to do the trick. She was absolutely beautiful. Delicate and elegant, yet oozing raw sexuality, especially in her current state. She was built for this, and he already couldn’t wait to have more of her.

The duo were wrapped up in a dense cloud of sexual intensity, jaws clenched and eyebrows furrowed while they vigorously worked to get each other off. So many tense nights had led up to this moment, and the barriers that had been keeping them tame were crashing down all around them. Junho leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, his rough jaw making contact with her delicate chin.

Ryujin opened her mouth immediately and accepted his passion, their tongues clashing near the peak of their lust. It felt even more wrong somehow to accept the intimate kiss, but it felt so incredibly good and fueled her desire for his masculine dominance to even greater heights. She allowed him to taste her completely, moaning into the strong kiss with unbridled pleasure.

“Oh my god... ngh fuck! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna - NGH - CUM!” Ryujin felt a powerful force rising in her, like an overinflated balloon that was about to burst. And then it did. Her jaw fell wide open, and her thighs squeezed inwards, trapping Junho’s hand like a vice. Sharp jolts of ecstasy pulsed from her depths, igniting every nerve in her body. Time seemed to stop as she was thrashed again and again. The thick fingers inside of her did not skip a beat, and each purposeful movement seemed to directly stroke the pleasure center of her brain.

Ryujin felt a wetness grace the back of her hand, and opened her eyes just in time to see Junho’s throbbing member erupting. Thick, sticky seed blasted into the air and coated every inch of her closed fist. As her climax shook her body, her unsteady grip on him caused quite the mess. His vigorous load was flung in every direction, splattering both of them and the sheets. As the potent pleasure boiling within them cooled to a simmer, they couldn’t help but share a tension-cutting laugh. There was cum everywhere.

“Holy fuck...” Junho murmured. “That was so damn hot.”

Ryujin felt like she was floating on a cloud, and closed her eyes to savor the moment. “Yeah...” She uttered the simple agreement with a long drawn out breath. She hadn’t felt such immense satisfaction in a long time, and allowed herself a peaceful moment to soak it in as the many drops of semen trickled down her skin. Her brand new underwear had gotten completely soiled, but she couldn’t care less in that blissful moment.

The pair managed to eventually clean themselves up and remove the soiled sheets. As Ryujin settled into her spot on the bed, the positive feelings that had dominated her consciousness were giving way to feelings of guilt and shame. She and Junho had officially gone too far, and she wrestled with the thought in silence before finally falling asleep.

Ryujin kept herself busy the next day, even opting to pick up an extra shift at work. The knowledge that she had cheated on her boyfriend weighed heavily on her mind, but she also felt a flash of excitement any time she recalled the event. The steamy encounter with her roommate made her already intense appetite even harder to ignore, and she had to fight the urge to duck into a dressing room to get herself off.

She even managed to mount Tae that night, desperate for cock, and perhaps eager to soothe her conscience by enjoying some intimate time that wasn’t “off limits”. The troubled young man was more eager than he had been in a while, fueled by his jealousy from the previous night. After riding him for a short time, Ryujin gasped as he took control and flipped her onto her back, fucking her with the anger he had felt after losing her to Junho. While he did manage to build a nice rhythm, he couldn’t last more than a minute, and she was left unsatisfied.

“That felt so good,” he said, breathing heavily and studying her reaction.

“Yeah...” She lied, noting how incredibly miniscule his load was inside the spent condom compared to the voluminous fountain that had splashed her the previous evening. Her boyfriend had always been enough for her before, but things were different now. She felt a pit in her stomach knowing that things would likely not go back to how they were between them.

“I’m sorry for getting so upset last night. I just... really, really didn’t want to lose that bet...” Tae muttered, his head hanging downwards.

“It’s okay, babe. Believe me, I know how it feels for Junho to get under your skin.”

“He’s such an ass sometimes. Did you - um - you wore that lingerie to bed with him?” He asked nervously.

“I... did...” Ryujin confessed slowly. “But I just got under the covers and went right to sleep. It’s not like I wore them for him or anything,” she added, knowing full well that the two-piece was in fact at the bottom of the laundry basket, speckled with their roommate’s dry cum. The comment seemed to comfort her boyfriend slightly.

“Oh, okay. Well, I guess I can get over it. As long as he doesn’t get the wrong idea.” Tae still wasn’t crazy about his friend getting an eye-full of his girlfriend’s exposed body, but decided not to push the issue further. “I know that you’re just doing all of this to help us survive... And I know I need to step it up. I’ve been a real slob,” the boyfriend admitted.

“Thanks for owning up to it. I believe in you. You just gotta get back out there,” she encouraged.

“You’re right, and I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Though their relationship had deteriorated recently, Ryujin still had feelings for Tae. He had been her first serious partner and they had lost their virginities together. The struggles of late had done damage, but there was still something there. Despite her actions, she still wanted the best for him, and wrestled with the thought that it might be best to just come clean about how things between her and Junho had gotten out of hand. If only she could think straight. The thrill of discovering this new, sexual side of herself, and the twisted pleasure that came with it was overwhelming her sensibilities.

Ryujin dreamed vividly that night. She was in Junho’s bed, but the room looked different for some reason. He was there, stroking his huge dick as usual, and he suddenly reached out and ripped the blanket off of her. She was fully naked, with her fingers in her pussy, frozen like a deer in headlights. “I knew it!” He shouted, and scrambled on top of her. He slapped her creamy folds with his hard manhood and then firmly thrust into her. Ryujin was paralyzed and lay there helplessly while he had his way with her. It felt fucking incredible. She moaned loudly in pleasure, captivated by the animalistic, sex-crazed expression on his face. Then his face morphed into Tae’s.

“Babe? Babe? Ryujin!”

Her eyes snapped open and she found that she was in her own room. Her boyfriend was gently shaking her. “You were moaning in your sleep. I figured you were having a nightmare or something,” he said worriedly.

“Oh... Yeah... A nightmare,” she lied. She immediately noticed that her underwear were drenched. She’d experienced the first of many sexual dreams involving her roommate that night, and waited for Tae to fall asleep to quell the overwhelming urge between her legs.

—

The new routine had been established, and although she would earnestly try each and every time to keep to herself, Ryujin would inevitably end up with her hands wrapped around Junho’s hard cock while his fingers assaulted her cunt.

“Not tonight,” she’d say, turning her back to him as if to go straight to sleep like the faithful girlfriend she was supposed to be. She knew full well he wasn’t going to take “No” for an answer though, and secretly craved his attempts to convince her.

“Oh, playing games again tonight, are we?” He teased. “As if your little pussy isn’t soaking wet in there, waiting to be manhandled.”

She squirmed her thighs together, his words having an effect.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The swoosh of his boxers being removed could be heard.

“Come play with your new favorite toy a little.”

“You’ve got two hands. Use ‘em,” Ryujin teased back.

“If you insist,” he chuckled, scooting towards her and reaching under the blanket.

“No! You know what I meant!”

She squealed as his large hands roamed over her exposed skin. Ryujin always knew the battle was lost the minute he started touching her. Something about the way he manipulated her with his powerful fingers drove her crazy. Before she could get another word in, his toned arm was around her narrow waist, pulling her into him. Now wrapped in his strong embrace, the dainty woman was powerless to resist. She let out an involuntary moan as he firmly pulled her thong to the side and rubbed her slippery clit.

“Why do you always have to put up a fight?” He growled into her ear.

“Ngghh! Because you’re a stupid creep! I’m - Uhnn - not bad like you!” She could hardly get the words out as he finger fucked her, her lower half vibrating with the intensity of his actions. Ryujin squirmed against the large frame of her roommate, his hard cock at full attention and slapping against her quivering thigh.

“You’re a horny little slut, and you know it,” he muttered hoarsely, nibbling her ear. “Why else would your cunt be this fucking wet for me?”

Ryujin wanted to tell him that she despised him, but instead her mouth fell open in silence as she came all over Junho’s invasive fingers. After twitching in pleasure for an imperceptible length of time, she finally drew a breath and let out a girlish whimper of satisfaction. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly he could bring her to orgasm.

“My turn, slut.” He commanded, and watched as his best friend’s girlfriend obediently took his big cock in both hands and got to work.

“Stop calling me that. I’m only doing this so you’ll leave me alone and go to sleep.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Mhm!”

“So it has nothing to do with your secret infatuation with me?” Junho loved to press her buttons while she serviced him.

“Pffft. You wish. This is purely transactional,” she shot back, matter-of-factly.

“Keep telling yourself that, sexy. Ahh... that’s nice. Can you get it wet for me though?”

Ryujin rolled her eyes. “Where’s your lotion?”

“I’m fresh out.”

“Ugh. If it will make this go faster.” She leaned over and drooled a large strand of saliva to coat his shaft before pumping his length diligently with a renewed effort.

“Hooohh... Fuck yeah, just like that.” he encouraged. His roommate was using both hands in unison, fervently stimulating him with just the right amount of pressure and speed.

“Why are you always so damn hard?” She asked, genuinely curious about his libido which was foreign to her.

“Because I’m a fucking alpha,” he laughed as she scoffed at his cliché arrogance. “I don’t know... I’ve always had this massive sex drive. Kinda seems like yours isn’t too far off.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Ryujin argued.

“I think you’re wrong. Two peas in a pod, lady,” he joked as he playfully grabbed at her bra-clad tits.

She couldn’t hold back a brief smile as she flinched, protesting, “Hey, stop!” She squeezed his cock in retaliation, before spitting on it to reapply her lubrication.

“What about Tae? Something tells me he’s not... Keeping up with your needs?”

Ryujin could feel her cheeks blushing. “What? No. No, he’s - It’s fine.”

Junho raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Well that sounds... Fine,” he teased.

“Whatever. Okay, let’s see that big alpha load already. My arms are getting tired,” she said sarcastically, jerking his big dick enthusiastically.

“Anything for my hot little cumslut,” he muttered.

Before long, the roomate was grunting with delight as he spurted his fat load into the air, much of the sticky substance covering Ryujin’s slick fingers and slender forearms.

“God damn, baby... You’re getting really good at that...” He cooed.

“You’re disgusting...” She said, suppressing a grin as she messily wiped her slimy hands off onto his thigh. Without even fully cleaning up, she nestled into her spot on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

—

Junho was growing bolder, knowing the shift that was occurring within Ryujin after several nights of giving in to his advances. While cleaning up some dishes in the kitchen after dinner, he noticed her slip behind him to get something out of the cupboard. He glanced back and observed her stretching for a glass on the top shelf. She was already in her night wear: the usual flimsy camisole and skin-tight short shorts. Her toned midriff was exposed as she reached for the receptacle. Junho noted that Tae was focused on his video game with his back turned to them, and silently closed the gap between him and the alluring woman. He pressed into her back and gently held her against him with a hand on her hip.

“Let me get that for you,” he said casually, easily reaching over her and grabbing the glass.

“Hey!” Ryujin whispered harshly, caught off guard and suddenly trapped between the counter and the large frame behind her. “What the hell are you doing!?” She squirmed against him and could feel his hardness poking against the small of her back.

Junho ignored her question, and smelled her hair, firmly holding her still. “God you smell good. Are you excited to cum all over my fingers again tonight?” He murmured softly into her ear, one hand inching down towards her mound. His cock inflated rapidly as he imagined her writhing in pleasure on his bed again.

“Stop! Seriously! You’re gonna-”

“Make you too wet before you say goodnight to Tae?” He interrupted, teasing her verbally as well as with his fingers, which were now pressing against her clit and ever so slightly drawing circles.

“No! Ngh... Junho, please stop... He’s gonna see us...” She pleaded as quietly as she could. Even over her shorts, his firm touch was starting to feel good. She didn’t have the strength to escape his powerful hold and a sense of helplessness washed over her. Her legs started to weaken as her pussy responded to his aggression, growing juicier by the second. Junho’s free hand had traveled up her torso and was lightly grazing her nipples, which were stiff and sensitive.

She knew there was nothing she could do short of calling to her boyfriend for help, but she couldn’t do that. What if he discovered how much their brutish roommate’s groping was turning her on, she thought. Ryujin cursed her body for once again betraying her and giving into the man’s forceful assault. Instead of insisting that he stop, she was becoming jello in his arms, silently accepting that he was going to do what he wanted to her.

“I’m so fucking hard right now... Maybe I should just fuck you right here,” Junho threatened through clenched teeth.

As she lost the battle for control over her body, her mind began to slip as well. She imagined the muscular jerk tugging her shorts down, and thrusting his huge cock into her warm, welcoming cunt. Surely he wouldn’t go that far, she thought. He wouldn’t take the last bit of her innocence then and there in the kitchen and fuck her needy pussy right behind her boyfriend. The vision was beyond tantalizing, and her dripping sex ached for more.

Ryujin surrendered to his dominant touch, and just as she felt an orgasm building, Junho released his grip and shuffled back to the sink. His dismount was so jarring that she nearly groaned in frustration at the instantaneous loss of pleasure. She desperately needed that climax, and could think of nothing else.

“Asshole,” she muttered as she stomped past him, heading straight for his bedroom.

“I just got insanely tired... Goodnight, babe,” she announced to Tae, pausing in the doorway for a brief moment to shoot a stern, suggestive look at Junho. The roommate grinned at her mischievously and tucked his erection into his waistband before following her into the room.

“Night...” Tae answered nonchalantly, too engrossed in his game to notice the oddness of what had just occurred. Had he been more observant, he might have perceived his girlfriend’s earlier than usual departure, her flush red cheeks, or the fact that she’d left an unused glass on the kitchen counter.

Junho closed the door behind him to find that Ryujin was already naked from the waist down and had jumped into his bed. Her pussy was out in the open and glistening with her juices. It was the first time he had actually laid eyes on it, and he wasn’t surprised to find that it appeared pristine. His cock swelled with anticipation as he drank in the sight of her unprotected delicate pinkness.

“Are you gonna finish what you started you fucking perv?” She taunted him while lightly teasing herself.

She was still right on the brink of an orgasm, and her inhibitions had melted completely. Ryujin could’ve easily just finished the job herself, but she craved what she knew would be a far more potent explosion if Junho dug his strong fingers into her. She longed for him to hold her down and force it out of her. She was discovering that the loss of control when he dominated her was a major turn on.

Her expectations were subverted as he swiftly moved between her parted legs and dove face-first into her tender folds. She opened her mouth to oppose his daring action, but her voice got stuck in her throat as his strong tongue graced her sensitive cunt. Her hands reflexively shot out and grasped his hair, holding on for what she knew would be a wild ride. The handsome man worked his tongue expertly, stroking the full length of her pussy with firm, steady licks. She had to stop herself from moaning too loudly, remembering her boyfriend was just on the other side of the wall.

Junho kept her right on the edge, pausing every so often to catch his breath and plant kisses right on her swollen clit. His alluring roommate tasted better than he could’ve imagined. The sweet and tangy flavor was intoxicating and caused all of his blood to rush to his cock. He tested her carefully, paying attention to how her body reacted to his work. Stiffening his tongue, he prodded and teased her entrance, which felt incredibly tight. No doubt, it would feel amazing wrapped around his dick. He wasn’t sure he would be able to prevent himself from penetrating her any longer. The urge was ramping up with each passing second; his instincts becoming harder to ignore.

“Pleeease!” Ryujin whispered in desperation. She was right on the cusp of a big one, but her roommate wouldn’t let her have it. He had her firmly pinned down, legs spread wide as he carefully teased her gushing pussy. When she felt she was one lick away from cumming, he would shift his focus, kissing and gently biting a path away from her aching sex. He was clearly toying with her, and taking the opportunity to sample every inch of her exposed lower half.

Junho couldn’t help but grin as he feasted on the begging girlfriend. Her cute, wanting pleas for more were music to his ears. He took his time, lightly dragging his teeth along her flawless, taut skin whenever he needed her to cool down. “Mmmm... Tastes so good... You like how I tease your cheating little pussy, baby?”

Ryujin groaned in frustration as his hot breath tickled her throbbing clit. “Ugggh... I need to cum soooo badly...”

He prodded her once, flattening his tongue and quickly withdrawing it. “Like this?”

“Yesssss! Oh my god... Why are you doing this to me?” She wanted to scream at him, but knew it was too risky. She hoped the T.V. in the next room was loud enough to cover up her whimpers.

“Because you’re a naughty cheating girlfriend, and you need to be taught a lesson.”

“Ngggh!” She thrust her hips in an attempt to get the last bit of stimulation she needed, but he stopped her just in time, pressing her down into the bed more firmly.

“You resisted me, so now you have to wait until I think you deserve to cum.”

“Fuck, Junho...”

“Well? Do you deserve it?”

“Mhmm! Please!”

“I don’t know about that...” Junho flashed his teeth mischievously and bit the bony peak of her hip.

“Ahhh! Just give it to me! I Deserve it!”

“You’ll be a good cheating slut from now on?”

She hated him more than ever for forcing her to say such submissive things, but she was well beyond the point of having enough resistance left for mere words. “I’ll be good!”

“A good what?”

“A good - Ngh - cheating s-slut!” Ryujin couldn’t stay silent anymore. The long build up was about to hit the breaking point. “Ohhh... Oh fuuuck yesss... Oh my god... I’m about to-Ahh!” She gasped sharply as Junho abruptly stopped stimulating her.

“I’ll make you cum, slut, but I’m going to fuck you after,” he stated, still inches from her soaking pussy.

“Nooo. No, we can’t. Ugh! Pleeeease!” The frustrated woman bucked her hips and pulled at his hair, desperate for release. “Fucking pleeease make me cum,” she continued, her orgasm simmering just below the surface. She needed it more than anything, but had just enough sense left to stop him from taking her fully.

“Anything but that-Oh!”

He stoked the fire with another quick lash of his tongue, but it wasn’t enough to finish her off. Ryujin’s hands left his head and moved to her burning sex, but he deftly caught them with his own, pinning her arms down on either side of her.

“Beg me to fuck you...” He persisted.

“That’s too far! Please, anything else!”

Her mind was racing, searching for a way to convince the withholding jerk.

“I’ll suck your cock! Please! Make me cum and I’ll suck you off!” She blurted out the offer, which she hastily rationalized was a fair trade given the current predicament, though she wasn’t sure where the idea came from.

“Deal,” Junho agreed simply, dipping his face back down to resume his feast. He wasn’t hell-bent on rushing sex with her that night, and was elated to hear her depraved suggestion to service him with her hot little mouth. He released one of her wrists and drove two fingers into her cunt while tonguing her clit like a feral beast.

Immediately, Ryujin’s tight hole constricted and her back arched as her long awaited climax finally popped.

“Ohhhfffuuuuck!”

She cried out in ecstasy, her fingernails digging into Junho’s skull as she clenched him tightly between her thighs. The pleasure-filled girlfriend grinded her pussy against her roommate’s face for what felt like the lengthiest, most intense orgasm of her life, with no regard for the fact that a thin wall was all that separated her unfaithful act from her clueless boyfriend.

When she could finally muster the control to open her eyes, she was greeted by her roommate’s manly visage. His chiseled jaw was slick with her juices and his eyes glowed with a predatory flare that sent a shiver down her spine. She watched as he rose to his knees and peeled off his underwear, allowing his massive cock to spring into view. It dawned on her what she had agreed to moments prior, and she didn’t bother putting up a fight. She was about to have that fat piece of masculine meat in her mouth, and she was secretly thrilled about it.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Ryujin nearly leapt into the air like a startled cat upon hearing the sharp knocks on Junho’s bedroom door.

“Babe?” Tae asked from just outside.

She was frozen in indecision. Maybe he would just assume she was asleep and go away, she thought.

“I know you’re awake. I heard noises a minute ago.”

“Uh-Just a sec!” Ryujin scrambled off of the bed and looked around frantically for her shorts. Her heart was racing as she tried to brace herself for what would surely be a messy confrontation. He had heard her. It was all over. She had really fucked up this time. She tugged her shorts up and took a deep breath, noting that Junho had gotten under the covers and was in his usual sleeping position. She slowly opened the door, her face red-hot with shame, and met Tae’s suspicious gaze.

“You left your phone out here,” he muttered, presenting the device to her.

“Oh... Oops! T-thank you,” she stammered nervously.

“Are you okay?” He reached out and tested her forehead with his palm. “Oh my God. You’re burning up!”

“I am?” Ryujin couldn’t think straight in her panic. “I mean yeah... Now that you mention it-I don’t feel right. Maybe that’s why I was so tired...” She was suddenly hyper aware of the light sweat on her forehead and the slickness of Junho’s saliva between her thighs.

“Well it didn’t sound like you were sleeping...” Tae leaned over to get a peek into the dimly lit bedroom. His roommate appeared to be asleep.

“You just woke me up. Maybe I was talking in my sleep or something?” It was a poor excuse at best, but she crossed her fingers and silently prayed that he would let it go.

“That’s weird... Well if you’re sick you should really get some good rest in your own bed, don’t you think?” He asked, gently rubbing her arm.

“Yeah... I guess you’re right...”

She was more than a little disappointed, but given how fortunate she was to have not been caught, there was no sense in arguing the point. She followed her boyfriend back to their room, and fell asleep to the thought that she had somehow gotten herself into a situation where she now owed her arrogant roommate a blowjob.

Ryujin stirred the next morning to a rustling in her bed. She felt a weight on top of her and opened her heavy eyelids to find Junho’s massive cock staring back at her. She attempted to scoot up and away from him, only to discover that her torso and arms were pinned to the mattress beneath the heavy intruder.

“What the-You can’t be in here!” The young woman was trapped, her eyes darting around the space to confirm that this was indeed the room she shared with her boyfriend.

“I’ve been rock hard since you abandoned me last night. I couldn’t wait any longer,” Junho responded, clearly enjoying her helpless squirming.

“B-but Tae-”

“Shhh... He left to get you medicine, since you’re sooo sick...” He teased sarcastically, gently prodding her plump lips with his enlarged tip. “Time to pay your dues. You better make me cum before he gets back, or I’ll consider it a violation of the deal.”

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow night? This is too risky...” Ryujin tried to reason with the aggressor, but she could already feel herself becoming wet with anticipation. She knew he was going to take what he wanted from her, and couldn’t deny how much that turned her on. The warm, musky meat against her face was demanding her attention, and her mind flickered back to the potent orgasm its owner had brought her to the previous night. Maybe if she was proficient enough to satisfy him quickly, there would be enough time for him to work his magic on her again, she hoped. The pinned girlfriend’s tongue protruded from her lips, and made contact with her roommate’s cock head.

Junho couldn’t help but moan in relief as her wet tongue graced his needy manhood. Another invisible barrier was crumbling around them as his best friend’s girl willingly tasted his hard dick for the first time. She looked adorable, hyper-focused on exploring the ridged surface with little licks here and there. He had the urge to just jam himself into her mouth and fuck her face to completion, but held back in favor of the tortuous but enticing teasing she was putting him through.

“God damn, Ryujin...” He muttered in ecstasy.

She flashed her teeth briefly, flattered by his infatuation, and slowly parted her lips around his velvety skin. Without missing a beat, her roommate began easing his way into her welcoming mouth. As her wet warmth enveloped him inch by inch, her eyes followed the length of his chiseled torso upwards until she met his gaze. As their pupils locked, she felt his thick cock twitch against her tongue, and another deep moan escaped him. His expression of intense desire and hunger made her pussy ache. “Mmmm...” She cooed involuntarily; her mouth now completely full.

Junho began softly thrusting his hips back and forth, aiding Ryujin’s efforts as she repeatedly lifted her head to stimulate him. She had little leverage from her current position, but worked his sensitive organ with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She wanted to do a good job for him; to surprise him with how skilled she could be. He’d been responsible for giving her multiple mind-blowing climaxes, and it felt right to return the favor.

As if he could read her mind, he murmured, “Fuck yes... Ahh, you’re being such a good little cocksucker for me...”

She squirmed beneath him, squeezing her thighs together as a sting of desire accompanied his words. Is that what I am now, she thought, his little cocksucker? She wasn’t sure how to respond, but she knew that the whole situation was immensely hot, and that she wanted more.

Junho detected the lust and submission in her eyes, which encouraged him. “Mmm... Doesn’t it feel so fucking good to be the sexy little slut you’re meant to be?”

Ryujin had never felt so degraded, and though she didn’t want him to stop, she couldn’t allow him to think she had fully given up all control.

“I’m not a slut, you ass. You’re making me do this,” she said defiantly before allowing him to stuff her mouth again.

“And you’re loving it,” he teased.

“Shut up,” she gargled through his warm meat. She lightly dug her nails into his calves, her forearms still secured in place under his weight.

“You want me to get off of your arms so you can play with yourself?” Junho grinned mischievously as he reached behind him and pulled the blanket off of her lower half. She clamped her thighs together in an effort to defend against him, but his strong fingers slipped into the crevice and found their way to her slick pussy.

Ryujin reflexively moaned as he felt his way around her delicate folds. As usual, her body was betraying her, undermining any attempts to deny that she was enjoying his advances. As Junho toyed with her, she began bucking her hips against him, craving more stimulation. He grazed her entrance again and again, never lingering long enough to let the pleasure build. She hated how much of an effect he had on her, her brow furrowed in frustration as his thick shaft slid in and out of her stretched mouth.

Suddenly, he lifted himself off of her and fell onto his back. “Let’s see you put that slutty little mouth to use,” he practically growled, his rigid saliva-covered cock pointing at the ceiling. “Get on your hands and knees.”

“Fuck you,” Ryujin mumbled, complying with his order anyway and positioning herself to continue the taboo blowjob. Her more conservative inner voice was screaming at her for letting this outsider boss her around in the private bed she shared with her boyfriend.

“Ass up, so I can play with you,” he commanded, firmly gripping her thigh and pulling her backside toward him. She moaned again, revealing that she was enjoying his manhandling. She felt like a weightless doll as he effortlessly shifted her body around to his liking. Junho couldn’t help but continue to push her boundaries. He smacked her exposed ass cheek with a loud crack that echoed throughout the room.

“OW! WHAT TH-” Ryujin’s cry of protest was sharply interrupted as his large hand grabbed the back of her head and guided her down onto his thick cock. She gagged and dug her nails into his thigh as he jabbed the back of her throat. One hand wrapped itself in her hair and pulled her back enough to allow her to breathe, while the other began rubbing up and down the length of her creamy pussy. “You fuckin-Ggghhh!”

Junho chewed his bottom lip as he aggressively forced the young girlfriend back onto his dick. He started jerking off his considerable length with her mouth, all while finger fucking her tight pussy and rubbing her swollen clit with his thumb.

With each push downwards, Ryujin grew more accustomed to his girth, and her gags gave way to muffled, throaty moans. He was completely having his way with her, and there was little she could do to stop it-not that she wanted to. At first his abrupt assault was appalling, but she quickly warmed up to it. Her juices ran freely down her thighs as he pumped two of his broad fingers in and out of her squelching entrance. Her throat relaxed, and little by little more of his shaft passed through her lips. If she hadn’t felt like a slut before, she was beginning to feel like one now. She had never felt so utterly objectified and depraved. Her ass still stung from his harsh slap, but she found herself craving another. Her emotions and desires were a confusing, chaotic soup, but before she could dwell on them, a powerful orgasm erupted within her.

In a move that subverted even her own expectations, she forcefully pushed herself up, the slimy cock flopping out of her mouth, and screamed, “Oh my God, Junhonn! I’m fucking cumming so hard! Spank me again!” A second later, a sharp jolt of tantalizing pain ran through her as he indulged, and then another. “OH! FUCK YEAHHH!” She exclaimed as she rode the mind-bending climax, tightly gripping his throbbing cock with both hands. He continued to punish her plump backside and ravage her quivering pussy while she shrieked wildly in ecstasy.

The scene was amongst the hottest things Junho had ever witnessed, and he felt that his throbbing cock was on the brink of exploding. He quickly grabbed Ryujin’s hips, twisting her onto her back and straddled her writhing body while he stroked his manhood to completion. With his free hand, he ripped her flimsy top down from her chest, tearing it and exposing her breasts. She yelped in surprise, but was too lost in pleasure to care. With a drawn out grunt from the towering man, a viscous, milky rope shot out and splashed against her cheek. Another landed soundly along the bridge of her nose, and the third across her agape lips, mostly falling into her mouth and coating her tongue. The several remaining blasts of his dense semen barely waned in strength, splattering all over her tits, and painting her torso and tattered shirt. By the time the last few dribbles trickled down her tummy, Ryujin was glazed to the point of being almost unrecognizable.

For several minutes the pair remained frozen in place, breathing heavily and basking in the aftermath of what had just occurred. The fact that she had just willingly sucked her roommate’s big cock and screamed like a slut for him while he covered her in his cum barely seemed to matter at that moment. As her chest rose and fell, she could feel the copious semen dripping down her skin and soaking into the bedding.

Junho was the first to speak, “You ever been plastered like that?”

“Never,” she answered weakly.

“It’s a good look for you,” he added, scooting himself off of her and reaching for his phone. He aimed the camera at her and joked, “Say I’m Junho’s little cum slut.”

“Fuck off!” She couldn’t help but giggle a bit, shielding her face with her open palm. He held the screen out to her, and her jaw dropped as she processed the obscene image on display. It took a full second for Ryujin to recognize the naked woman lewdly sprawled out and coated in jizz in the picture. Even though she had just watched him take the photo, she couldn’t believe the unbelievably slutty looking figure was her. It was also hard to miss how incredibly satisfied her expression appeared. Despite having just cheated on her boyfriend again, with this cocky, manhandling brute no less, Ryujin felt more carefree than she had in a long while. That is, until the sound of the front door opening could be heard through the wall.

“Shit!” She whispered through clenched teeth. “Not again!” Her eyes flickered back and forth indecisively as the door closed loudly and footsteps drew near. Junho sprung into action, scooping her up and repositioning her onto the bed, before pulling the thick comforter over both of them and laying as flat as he could next to her. Ryujin plucked at the covers hurriedly, trying to conceal any shapes, and ducked her face under the blanket as well.

“You awake babe?” Tae asked softly as he entered the dimly lit bedroom.

“Barely... Ugh... Can you please let me sleep a little more?” Ryujin tried her very best to sound natural, but her heart was pounding so hard it was deafening.

“Of course. I got some stuff you should take though-”

“No! I mean... Please leave me be for now. I appreciate you though! I’ll be up soon okay?” She stammered dismissively. If her boyfriend saw her now, there would be no way to explain the shiny globs of cum that still covered her. There was also the issue of getting Junho out of her bedroom without him noticing. She had to think fast.

“Alright. Well I’ll check on you soon,” Tae said.

“Oh, um... Babe? Could you please check my car for my phone charger?” She improvised.

“You can just use mine-”

“No, I need mine please,” she insisted, not sure how to justify it.

“Uh, okay then,” the boyfriend chuckled. “I’ll be right back.”

Ryujin held her breath and waited for the apartment to clear. The second the front door closed, she threw the bedding off of her and scrambled towards the foot of the bed. She felt something wrap tightly around her ankle, and she was jerked back towards her roommate, who wrapped his large arms around her.

“Dude!” She yelled as he groped her luscious, sticky tits.

“Round two?” He asked, grinning mischievously and dropping a hand down to her unprotected mound.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Get the fuck out of my room!” She demanded as she tried to wriggle free from his hold. His fingers were already inside of her again, rummaging around in her still sopping wet pussy. “Seriously! Nghhh-Please!”

“I’ll go, but I want to hear you admit how much you loved being my naughty little cum canvas,” he grumbled into her ear while stroking her clit and pinching her nipple.

“Hnnngh... Please... He’s gonna be back any minute-”

“So say it. I don’t care if he sees us.”

“You’re such a-ffffuck-ing ass-ohhh...” Ryujin knew she had no choice. “Fine... I Ioved it...” She had to get away from him before her brain decided the growing climax would be worth the risk.

“Loved what?”

“Ugh... Being your-Being... covered in all your... cum...” She admitted it shamefully.

“It was my pleasure.” Junho immediately released her and strode out of the room, fully naked and as smug as ever. Ryujin followed soon after, ducking into the bathroom and jumping into the shower. Before even attempting to scrub the semen off of her skin, her hands were between her legs. Her sex ached for more attention from her roommate, and she lost count of how many times she got herself off under the scalding water, the potent flavor of his salty seed still on her tongue.

******

Ryujin was sipping a hot, bitter coffee in the back room of a small clothing store, mentally preparing to face another tedious shift of her part-time gig. It was an early weekday morning, and she would likely be responsible for the more boring parts of the job given that there were seldom any customers at this time of day. She could faintly hear her bubbly manager, Amber, chatting away with someone out on the floor, which was surprising given that they had just opened the shop. After tossing the styrofoam cup into the trash can, Ryujin yawned and opened the door to see what all the fuss was about.

Amber, from the looks of it, was in her natural habitat, flirting with some guy who had no doubt accidentally wandered into her trap. The young woman was very well put together, always dawning flawless makeup, in contrast to Ryujin, who was more likely to let her natural beauty shine through. Amber couldn’t help herself around attractive men, and had a reputation for having flings at the drop of a dime. Ryujin watched her touch the tall man’s bicep as she giggled about whatever it was they were discussing. As she drew nearer, she felt as though she recognized that bicep. Then the man turned to her, and to her surprise, it was Junho.

“Hey, Ryujin!” He greeted her cheerfully.

It took her a minute to process his sudden presence in her usually private world of the store. “H-Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I was going to try out this new gym that opened down the street, and then I remembered you mentioned that this was the place you worked at,” he explained, crossing his arms and smiling widely.

Amber appeared a little dismayed that the attention had suddenly shifted away from her. “You guys know each other?”

“Yeah! We live together!” Junho answered.

“Wha-Oh, so this is your boyfriend?” She inquired, clearly disappointed to learn that her chances with him had suddenly plummeted.

“No... he’s just our roommate.” Ryujin replied quickly, starting to worry that Junho would reveal something about the complicated nature of their relationship. It was only two days ago that she had his big cock down her throat before he shot his cum all over her.

“Oh good, so you’re single!” Amber flashed her perfect teeth and planted her palm on his broad chest. She did not know the meaning of subtle.

“That’s right,” he chuckled, realizing an opportunity was developing before his eyes. “Can’t tie this guy down,” Junho said jokingly, flexing his muscles and getting an easy laugh out of his new fan.

“Well you can tie me down...” Amber commented seductively. “Give me your number, hot stuff.”

Ryujin rolled her eyes and turned to leave the sickening interaction.

“See you at home, Ryujin!” Junho called out to her.

“Whatever,” she replied under her breath, grabbing her clipboard off of the counter to start her daily tasks. Ryujin tried to focus on her job, but couldn’t ignore the negative emotions that were rising to the surface. The image of her slutty manager’s hands all over her roommate plagued her mind. First of all, he and I are not dating... I have a boyfriend... They can fuck like rabbits for all I care... The thought did not sit well with her. Ryujin must have muttered the phrase “Who cares” to herself a thousand times throughout the day in an attempt to distance herself from the feelings.

As she readied herself to end the shift, Ryujin noticed Amber smiling ear to ear while she tapped away at her phone. “Oh my God, Ryujin! How come you never told me about this guy? He’s so fucking hot. And guess what? We’re going out tonight!”

Ryujin’s heart sank to her stomach. She’d been secretly hoping that Junho would never actually entertain the idea of spending time with this woman, but apparently she was wrong. They were already set to meet up that night, and knowing them, would almost certainly end up hooking up. She wondered what that would mean for her plans, a night she was meant to spend in his bed. Ryujin tried her best to act naturally, but couldn’t hold back her opposition. “Oh really? After just meeting him?”

“Well, yeah! He seemed super into me, don’t you think?”

“I guess... He’s kind of a jerk though. You might not want to waste your time,” Ryujin explained, secretly ashamed that she was meddling in their plans.

“He seemed nice enough to me,” Amber said dismissively. She wasn’t about to let her coworker rain on her parade. “And that body... Mmm! I bet he has a big dick too. I’m pretty sure I saw some serious bulge going on down there.”

“I dunno. Small dick energy if you ask me,” Ryujin muttered.

“Well I guess I’ll find out soon!” Amber winked. “What do you think I should wear?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Ryujin gathered her things and strolled out of the store in a hurry, her jealousy hitting a tipping point.

******

That night as she and Tae ate dinner, Ryujin found it nearly impossible to focus on the conversation with her boyfriend. She kept eyeing the front door, hoping that Junho would show up alone, having canceled his date. She hated herself for letting the scenario affect her so much. The complicated feelings were a harsh reminder that she had gone way too far with her roommate, and that she needed some normalcy to return to her recently chaotic life.

After cleaning up, the couple cuddled up on the couch to watch a movie. It wasn’t long before the door to the apartment swung open, and Junho noisily entered, followed closely by a giggling Amber. Ryujin audibly groaned, but luckily the sounds of the film covered up her show of disappointment. As the newcomers shuffled towards the bedroom, Ryujin’s gaze met her roommate’s and the eye contact lingered for an extra beat. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to convey, and her conflicted feelings resulted in a mostly blank expression. He simply grinned, and continued leading his date to his room. Amber waved and said hello to the two of them, winking at Ryujin before disappearing into the private space.

“Wow, just like old times, eh?” Tae said to his girlfriend, clearly elated for the disruption in the night’s sleeping arrangement. “He hasn’t brought a girl home in a while. Guess that means we can stay together tonight.”

“Yeah...” Ryujin was distracted, knowing what was about to happen on the other side of the wall.

“Babe?” Tae lightly shook her.

“Yeah! It’s good!” She agreed simply, snapping out of it. Nothing positive would come out of eavesdropping, she decided. This is good, she told herself. This is normal. Normal is good. She pressed herself into her boyfriend’s hold and returned her attention to the movie, determined to accept the circumstances and enjoy a regular night of being a faithful girlfriend like she was supposed to. Ryujin’s new resolve soothed her conscience, and she felt at peace for the next few minutes.

As the on screen entertainment transitioned into a more silent scene, noises could be heard coming from Junho’s room. “Oh! Oh! Yes! Fuuuck Yes!” Amber suddenly cried out. Ryujin and Tae pretended not to hear it, hoping the movie sounds would pick back up again soon. “Oh my God! Ah! Yeah! Fuck!” It was hard to ignore the woman’s yelps of pleasure, and Ryujin found her mind wandering. It sounded like Junho was fucking her hard, and she could picture his toned body slamming into her. She wondered what position they were in. Is it missionary, or is he taking her from behind? The girlfriend secretly hoped there was no passion, just raw sex. The jealous feelings returned with a vengeance as she was forced to listen to her ditsy manager get railed by her roommate’s big dick. She was getting to experience it in a way Ryujin hadn’t, but that was by her own choice, she reminded herself. She wasn’t supposed to wonder what his massive cock would feel like inside of her. Despite all of these mixed emotions, the thought of it in action in the next room was turning her on.

“Hoy fucking shiiiiiit!” One last exclamation could be heard before the speakers finally covered up the debauchery. Ryujin realized that she could channel her arousal back into the right direction, and placed her hand on her boyfriend’s crotch. She kissed his neck and lightly rubbed him in an attempt to bring his member to life.

“I need you to fuck me,” she whispered into Tae’s ear, smiling as she felt his cock hardening. He turned his head and kissed her, feebly grabbing at her tit.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked, grinning at his ravenous girlfriend. “Is it...” His eyes darted in the direction of Junho’s room. “I thought you hated those... sounds.”

“I do, but I just-ugh. Just shut up and fuck me okay?” Ryujin started hastily unzipping his shorts.

“Right here? Babe we-” Tae’s hesitation shattered as his eager girlfriend fished his erection out and took its entire length into her warm mouth. His mouth hung agape in shock as she slid him in and out of her, twisting the saliva-coated base of his cock in her fist. The couple rarely dabbled in oral sex, and here she was enthusiastically enveloping his entire dick. “Ohhh, that feels so good babe...”

Ryujin knew he had a habit of finishing quickly, so her time was limited. She slowed her movements gradually, making eye contact, and released his spongy head with a loud pop. Without a word, the horny young woman took her boyfriend’s hand and pulled him to his feet, leading him to the bedroom. Amber could be heard moaning again as they exited the living room. Ryujin pushed Tae onto his back, removed her shorts, and climbed on top of him. She slid her thong to the side, and just before impaling herself, he protested, “Wait! Condom!”

“Babe, it’s okay, just pull out,” she pleaded, the heat of the moment slipping through her fingers.

“No, it won’t feel safe. Sorry, just a sec.” Tae slid out from under her and grabbed a packet from his drawer. He fumbled with it for a moment, and had to jerk himself off a bit to get fully hard again.

Ryujin waited patiently, but knew the likelihood of him actually satisfying her was slim to none. She could still faintly hear her manager squealing with delight across the apartment, and wondered if she had already cum for Junho. It was probably a matter of how many times, rather than if it had happened, she thought. “Tae, please get over here and give it to me,” she requested again.

“Okay, ready!” He took his place on his back again, and Ryujin climbed on top of him, finally sinking a hard cock into her depths. It felt great, and they both moaned at the joint stimulation. She put her hands on his chest and began gyrating her hips, finding the rhythm she needed to start building the pleasure. As she rode him, her mind kept traveling to the other bedroom, and she couldn’t prevent the intrusive thought of how different it must feel to be stuffed full of her roommate’s much larger tool. The thought of that monstrosity stretching her open was too wickedly alluring to ignore at the moment, and she allowed the fantasy of being with Junho instead to consume her attention.

He would probably have his big, strong hands all over me right now while I bounced on his fat cock. Hell, he’d probably throw me off of him so that he could have his way with me first. The daydream was fueling Ryujin’s arousal to new heights, and she was bucking into her boyfriend harder and harder.

Tae stared at his sexy girlfriend in awe - her perfectly toned tummy and full, perky tits dancing above him - he could hardly believe she was his. Her sultry expression was one of pure lust. She looked so cute and determined to get off with him. It was all too much, and he felt his climax already rearing its head. “So good... Oh...” He began tensing up.

Ryujin knew the telltale signs of her boyfriend’s completion, and quickly stopped grinding him. “Not yet babe!” She lifted herself off of him, but it was too late, and she watched in disappointment as his dick twitched and spewed a few globs of semen into the condom.

“Fuuuck... I’m sorry...” He muttered shamefully.

“It’s okay... It’s okay... Just... Can you lick me?” Ryujin fell onto her back and spread her legs, her fingers teasing her clit. There was no way she was giving up this orgasm.

“Sure!” Tae was relieved that he could still help his girlfriend get to the finish line, and crawled to her soaking pussy for a taste. He clumsily ran his tongue around the area, and jabbed at her entrance a few times. “Mmm is that good?”

“It’s... Fine. Yeah, just keep licking right there... Mhmm...” She closed her eyes and focused on stimulating her clit. His tongue was better than nothing, but it was night and day when compared to what Junho had done to her. God... The way he held me down and ate me like I was his last meal... Groping me and making me squirm while forcing me to admit that I was his cheating slut...

“Ngh! Ohhhhh...” Ryujin moaned while picturing her roommate dominating her. She rubbed herself with fervor and ground her sex into Tae’s face. She was almost there. “Beg me to fuck you.” Junho’s words rang in her mind. “Please fuck me,” she whimpered under her breath. A scalding wave of pleasure washed over her as she orgasmed, her jaw dropping and back arching. She pressed firmly onto her clit, tightly trapping her fingers and her boyfriend between her quivering thighs. She drew breath slowly and shakily as the endorphins ran their course, eventually subsiding and leaving her limp and sweaty.

“Holy shit, babe... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cum that hard,” Tae said admiringly, with a dash of pride at thinking he was solely responsible.

“Yeah... Sometimes...” She cooed, still lost in the aftermath.

“Well, goodnight.” He kissed her lips.

“Goodnight...” Ryujin drifted to sleep effortlessly, even though the sounds of her roommate and coworker still going at it could be heard in the distance.

******

Ryujin woke the next morning before the sunlight had even pierced her bedroom window. With an anxious pit in her stomach, she checked her work schedule and was reminded that she was scheduled to open the store with Amber again that morning. She contemplated calling out sick, dreading the awkward interaction that would surely occur upon her arrival, but decided to be brave and face the day. She quietly slipped out of her room, carefully listening for any indication that the woman was still in her apartment. All was silent, so she hopped into the shower and hurriedly readied herself to leave.

She tip-toed through the front door, relieved that no one else had seemed to have stirred yet, and left for work. Ryujin spent her short commute mentally rehearsing what she might say to her manager, or how to avoid her. Undoubtedly she would want to gush about her experience with Junho, which Ryujin was not ready to hear. She had gotten enough of an earful about it already. Despite arriving quite a bit early, she was surprised to see Amber’s car was already in the parking lot.

“Hey, Amber,” she said, reluctantly greeting the woman. Might as well try to play nice, she figured.

“Hey...” Amber replied back, with no enthusiasm and a hint of melancholy.

Ryujin raised an eyebrow. This was not at all how she expected this interaction to go. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine...” Amber was avoiding eye contact and fiddling with a tablet.

“Not gonna lie... I kind of expected you to be in a better mood this morning,” Ryujin stated, now filled with curiosity.

“Heh...”

“You sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Ugh... No big deal. You were right though, he’s kind of a jerk.” Amber said, finally looking up from her arbitrary task.

“Oh.” Ryujin wasn’t sure what to say next. What could Junho have possibly done for her to have this reaction, especially after a night of what sounded like amazing sex. “It sounded like... I mean, weren’t you guys...”

“He’s a great fuck if that’s what you’re getting at. Like, crazy good...”

“Then what happened? Just his general attitude got to you, or?”

“No... I can deal with that...” Amber muttered, avoiding eye contact again.

“Well?” Ryujin couldn’t let it go. The mystery was too captivating at that point.

Amber turned bright red and sighed. “Fine. He... Don’t tell anyone, but... He said your name. Right in the middle of what I thought was the best sex of all time, he called me Ryujin.”

“Oh... I’m-Sorry...” Ryujin placed her hand on her coworker’s shoulder awkwardly, unsure of how to react outwardly, but well aware that she couldn’t allow her true emotions to escape her just yet. She was equally shocked and elated to hear of her roommate’s mistake.

“It’s fine. It was just a stupid hook up. I’ll get over it,” Amber insisted in a show of maturity.

“That sucks though. I’m sorry that happened.” Ryujin tried to reassure her.

“Thanks... That guy is obviously into you, Ryujin. I was picking up on some vibes when he was here yesterday too, but I guess I didn’t want to believe in them.”

“No... I’m sure it was just a mindless slip of the tongue,” she said, not believing her own words. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

“Well, I don’t wanna tell you how to live your life, girl, but for your sake I hope your man fucks half as good as that stud.”

The women did not discuss the subject any further, and began independently getting their daily tasks done. About an hour later, Ryujin was organizing a shelf when she heard unintelligible voices conversing, followed by Amber loudly announcing, “I don’t wanna talk about it. Just drop it, okay? No harm done.” She peered around the corner and saw her manager, blushing and walking towards her. Junho was behind her, looking a little less cool and collected than usual. “It’s just embarrassing,” Amber whispered as she passed her and headed for the exit. “Now’s a good time to take my lunch break.”

Ryujin approached the tall man with a spring in her step, more than a little excited to see him after hearing what had happened. “Can’t get enough of her, eh?”

Junho chuckled strangely, “Just wanted to say hi I guess.” He wasn’t sure if the women had discussed the fumble, and preferred his roommate knew nothing about it.

Is he being awkward? Ryujin wondered, suppressing a smile at his rare show of vulnerability. She was looking forward to fishing the information out of him. “Looks like she didn’t wanna talk. What could that be about?”

He shrugged. “Dunno...”

“Hm, guess she wasn’t impressed,” she teased, glancing down at his package. She decided it was more fun that he didn’t know that Amber had spilled the beans to her already.

“I think you know that that’s basically impossible,” he defended himself, straightening his posture.

“How would I know that?” Ryujin asked, subconsciously taking a step towards him.

“If you don’t by now, you will in due time,” he replied, closing the distance further.

“Well if you keep bringing random girls home, there won’t be a lot of time for that, will there?” She knew what her comment was suggesting, and worried that it might have been too forward.

“True.” He said simply.

Ryujin’s heart rate quickened as she took in his scent and felt his eyes scanning her body. She considered the space around her, quickly observing the emptiness of the store, and the security camera that they were in partial view of. “So what can I help you with today? You mentioned you were looking to try on some new pants?” She aimlessly picked up a pair of jeans that were conveniently resting on the shelf beside them, and offered them to him.

“You think these will be a good fit?” He asked, seamlessly slipping into the role of the unfamiliar customer.

“Yeah! Let me show you to the dressing rooms,” she announced. As soon as the words left her lips, she knew what was about to happen. Her eyes darted around again to confirm. There was no one in sight, and she knew for a fact that there weren’t any cameras in the dressing room area, including the common space where the employees would often spend time watching over the rooms and organizing the abandoned garments. She led Junho across the room and into the private alcove. “Here we are, sir,” she said in her professional customer service voice, holding the door open for him and feeling a tingle of excitement as his hard body brushed past her.

“I think I’m gonna need some help, miss,” he eyed her knowingly.

“Oh? What else can I do for you?” Ryujin’s pulse quickened in anticipation.

“I’m just a little sore from the gym, and was hoping you could help me out of these joggers.”

“Hmm, I don’t think that sort of thing is allowed here-Ah!” She was interrupted as Junho’s hand grabbed her slender waist and pulled her into the room. He aggressively pushed the door closed and his large frame pinned her against the wall of the tiny room. Her body was trapped between the cool partition and his warm chest. “I could get into a lot of troub-” Ryujin was once again interrupted, his lips mashing into hers, and his tongue forcing its way into her mouth.

“Mmmm...” She moaned into the kiss as her defenses vanished, and she offered her tongue to him. His strong hands slowly ran down her back and to her ass, which he then squeezed and used to lift her off of the ground. Still pinned against the wall, she was now at his height, and wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed her firmly and passionately, and she mirrored his intensity. They were basically devouring each other in the cramped space, as if they had both been starved for affection. Ryujin could feel his hardness swelling rapidly against her, like it was threatening to rip through their clothing and penetrate her. She squeezed him into her more tightly, enhancing the friction between their wanting genitals.

Ryujin was the first to break the kiss, panting heavily, and dropped her leg to the ground, which caused Junho to let her down. She could feel her pussy was already soaking wet from the encounter. She found herself wishing to please him in that moment; to prove that she knew how to satisfy him. The young girlfriend dropped to her knees and started to tug at her hung roommate’s waistband until his massive erection sprung out before her eyes. She took his rock hard cock in her soft hand and gave the tip a small peck.

“God, you look like such a hot little slut with my big dick on your face,” Junho admired, resting his meaty appendage along the bridge of her nose, and gliding his smooth shaft ever so slightly along her skin. He cupped her jaw in his palm. “Did you miss me last night?”

“Not as much as you missed me,” she replied, sticking out her tongue and licking up the length of his cock. Junho chuckled and allowed her to take control as she flicked the underside of his head with her tongue and pushed her pursed lips against it. Ryujin slowly allowed him inside, taking in his fat piece of meat one centimeter at a time. At about four inches or so, he hit the back of her throat, and she held him there while her tongue snaked back and forth. She used her hand to spread her saliva down the rest of his length, lightly jerking the base while she bobbed her head on the third that she could fit.

Junho inhaled through his teeth and groaned in pleasure as his roommate serviced him. He took a moment to appreciate the wild turn of events that had gotten him into Ryujin’s lovely mouth that morning. He hadn’t been sure what would come of confronting the women after what had transpired the night before, but he’d felt a strong inclination to show up and figure it out. This outcome was about as well as it could have possibly gone for him, and he allowed himself a minute to get lost in her bright, determined eyes. “Whoofff... You’re getting good at this, baby.” He battled the compulsion to increase the intensity and start fucking her face again, deciding to let her continue proving herself while he relaxed this time around.

Ryujin pulled him out of her mouth with a slurp, and jerked him off with both hands, smiling with her tongue out. “You think?” In no mood to pretend she wasn’t enjoying herself, she genuinely wanted to hear more praise from him. She knew she wasn’t particularly experienced sucking cock, especially when compared with her slutty manager, but secretly hoped she possessed an innate talent that would impress Junho. She had more or less let him have his way during their previous encounter, but she was now in the driver’s seat, and didn’t want to disappoint.

“Definitely... You’re gonna make me cum if you keep this up,” he encouraged.

The cheating girlfriend slid the throbbing dick back into her mouth, pleased to hear she was succeeding. She did feel a sense of urgency, remembering where she was, and that Amber could come back at any time. More risky still, a customer might quietly drop in, and they’d probably hear the obscene squelching sounds coming from the small dressing room as she began pumping Junho’s cock with increased enthusiasm.

“Ahh... Fuck yeah... That’s my good little cocksucker... Is it making you all wet to be on your knees like this in public?” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Mhmmm,” she answered with a slight nod. She couldn’t believe how turned on the whole thing was making her. If she’d been told a month ago that she’d be blowing Junho at some random clothing store, she would consider it impossible. The risk of getting caught was another spicy factor that only made the interaction even hotter. Ryujin caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror beside them, noticing her watery eyes and the thick rope of saliva dangling from her chin while her lips stretched to accept the thick manhood. She truly felt like his little cocksucker, and the aching need in her pussy insisted that it was the way to be.

“Fuck, Ryujin... I’m getting close,” Junho mumbled.

“Gllgh. Gllgh. Gllgh.” Ryujin gagged on her roommate’s big dick as it jabbed the back of her throat repeatedly. She realized she would have to swallow his entire load, as she was in no position to be glazed in cum at the moment. Her shift had barely started, and she would have to work the next several hours in whatever state he left her in. Ryujin began mentally preparing herself to handle what would undoubtedly be a massive volume of semen.

“Oh fuck... Just like that, slut...”

“Gllgh. Gllgh. Gllgh.” She could feel him throbbing against her tongue.

“Oh my fucking... Mmmm!” Junho groaned in pleasure as his cock jumped in Ryujin’s tight, wet mouth. A viscous string of salty-sweet seed splashed the back of her throat, and she gagged at the unexpected force of it. Clamping her lips firmly around him, she managed to swallow just in time for another shot of cum to quickly fill the little space there was. She drank it down as swiftly as possible while his big cock pulsed wildly and relentlessly ejaculated into her. Ryujin surprised herself as she managed to mostly contain his impossibly heavy dose, only a small amount dribbling from the corners of her lips.

Junho watched the young girlfriend in a daze as she gulped down the last of his seed, and began sucking and licking his cock clean automatically. She continued to exceed his expectations, and he once again privately counted his blessings. He fantasized about keeping her in that room with him for the rest of the day, or at least for long enough to finally fuck her. That would have to wait, he decided, and he took her hand in his, lifting her to her feet and pulling her against him.

Ryujin lovingly licked away the last remnants of cum from his barely-deflated shaft. His potent flavor overwhelmed all of her senses, and she thought about how many nights she’d seen all of his fluids go to waste. This time, every drop was traveling down to her belly, which, for reasons she didn’t understand, was intensely erotic for her. She felt Junho’s strong hand take hers, and before she knew it, found herself in his arms again. He kissed her firmly, and she reciprocated, the taste of his tongue mixing into the already intoxicating Junho cocktail she was experiencing. She felt his hands roam down her back and slip into her pants. He squeezed her plump ass as their tongues swirled around each other, and her pussy drooled in anticipation. Her roommate’s thick finger traveled further down, disregarding the barrier of her panties, and tunneled its way to her soaking lips.

“Ohhh... Pleeease...” She moaned into his mouth as he lightly traced lines up and down her slick entrance. The last bit of caution she had regarding the setting melted away, as she grinded her sticky pussy into his fingers. Then he withdrew. Slowly, but deliberately, he retracted, and with one last kiss, left her without his touch.

“I’ll take care of you tonight,” he said seductively, and turned to leave.

Ryujin spent the next few minutes composing herself, mustering up every ounce of self-control not to finish herself off. She rehearsed a “normal” smile in the mirror, and strode back out into the store, the taste of her roommate still on her lips.

Ryujin returned home in the evening after a long day of work followed by shopping for materials she would need for her upcoming university classes. She entered the shared apartment to find Tae and Junho about to take a shot of alcohol.

“Heyyy! Just in time!” Her boyfriend, looking more clean-cut than he had in a while, greeted her cheerfully. “Guess what, babe? I landed a job!”

Ryujin’s eyes widened in surprise. “No way! That’s great! I didn’t even know you were-”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he explained, handing her a shot glass. “I’ve been in contact with them and had the in-person interview this morning, and they got back to me just a few hours later. The stars just aligned on this one!”

“That’s so awesome! Congrats!” She exclaimed, legitimately happy for him. The trio gulped down their celebratory liquid and enjoyed a couple rounds of a simple drinking game. Tae described his interview in more detail, and the others learned that the new job was a step down from his previous one, but still seemed decent and stable. Anything was better than the sedentary life he had been living for the past few months, Ryujin decided.

As the drinks flowed, the elephant in the room grew larger, until Tae finally broached the subject. “So I guess this means we can finally go back to normal, right?” He asked the group suddenly.

Ryujin waited to see if Junho would respond, and he did. “Eventually, yeah. Let’s wait to see that first paycheck though, eh big guy?” He chuckled, slapping his friend on the back. “Besides, I already paid for this month.” The handsome man smirked at his friend’s girlfriend knowingly, and she felt a tingle between her legs. She had just gulped down all of his cum that very morning, and shuddered at the thought of what he was planning to do to her that night.

“Well it won’t be much longer now. I start next week, so expect that money soon. We need to put this shit behind us,” he said firmly, surprising the others with his sudden boost in confidence. “Be right back.”

As Tae headed towards the bathroom, Junho wrapped an arm around Ryujin, and pulled her against him. “I guess that means we better make every second count,” he muttered in her ear as his hand roamed to her chest, squeezing her pliant flesh.

“Stop!” She whispered, squirming in his strong embrace. Both hands were now roughly groping her tits, and she could feel her nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of her top. Her roommate’s warm breath bathed her neck before his teeth lightly scraped it. “Junho, seriously...” Ryujin protested as the dangerous sensations of her body’s consent began to spread in her loins.

As he kissed and nibbled her soft skin, Junho could actually feel her pulse quickening. The toilet flushed, and he slowly withdrew from the petite woman. “Where’s a dressing room when you need one?” He joked, smiling at her as she quickly composed herself and fixed her shirt.

“You’re such a fucking perv,” she chastised her roommate just before Tae returned to the couch. The game continued, and Junho took every chance to steal a feel of Ryujin, from subtly bumping his body into hers, to outright groping her when his friend was distracted. The man clearly had an appetite, and his risky advances were making her horny. At one point she let her gaze linger on the prominent bulge in his pants, and felt the urge to climb into his lap so he could put his hands all over her. After playing around a while longer, Tae announced he was ready for bed, and held his hand out to his girlfriend invitingly.

“Mmm wrong night, buddy.” Junho pointed out.

Tae shot him a look of disapproval. “I’m not going to sleep just yet. Will you join me, babe?”

“I see...” the cocky man laughed. “Enjoy, you two. But send her to my room when you’re done,” he instructed, winking.

Ryujin should’ve been used to his boldness by now, but still found herself slightly shocked that he would make such a suggestive comment in front of Tae. She rose to her feet and followed her boyfriend, thinking about how slutty it made her feel to be ordered around between the two bedrooms, and noticing that it turned her on.

As soon as they closed the door, Tae kissed her, and started removing her clothes. Ryujin was slightly taken aback by his newfound ability to take charge, but was pleasantly surprised. He pushed her to the bed, and rolled a condom onto his modest erection. He mounted his girlfriend, spearing her with his hardness, and began pumping away. “Wow, you’re so wet already,” he beamed. “My good news has you all excited, eh?” She nodded in response, focused on trying to get into the moment. While she was undoubtedly happy for his success, the moistness in her pussy was caused by Junho’s repeated sneaky touches throughout the night.

After nearly ten minutes of actually decent sex, compared to their recent attempts together, Tae ejaculated into his protection, and slumped on top of her. Ryujin had almost orgasmed, but ended up faking a small one as he finished. She thought about completing the job herself, or asking him to eat her out like the last time they were intimate, but decided to enjoy the restful moment with him instead. He’s too tired anyway, she rationalized to herself, refusing to acknowledge that perhaps she was saving herself for what would inevitably happen in the next bedroom.

The young woman lay there in silence, listening to her boyfriend’s deep breathing. She did feel guilty. She’d coexisted with the uncomfortable emotion for a while now, locking it away when she could, but forced to face it in the quiet moments. Whatever it was that had developed between her and Junho, it was going to come to an end. It always had to. Knowing it was a temporary thing made the guilt easier to deal with. Ryujin felt that her future self could move on and accept that she and her roommate were just getting something out of their systems during this odd time in their lives. It also helped to remind herself that they had managed to keep themselves from going all the way, and had not actually had sex, which had to count for something.

Tae’s breath slowed to a dull snore, and Ryujin scooted out from under the sleeping man. It was an Junho night, and she had to finish out the agreement. She slipped into a thong and baggy t-shirt before tiptoeing towards the bedroom at the other end of the apartment. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering about as she contemplated what might happen in there that night. Will he be waiting for me with his big hard dick in hand? Will he make me suck it again, and cum down my throat? Maybe he’ll lick my pussy. Ryujin grew hornier the more she thought about the vast menu of dirty acts they might indulge in. She reassured herself that as long as they didn’t push the boundaries any further, and were committed to stopping altogether soon, she could enjoy herself.

She opened the door and was surprised to find that the light was off, and her roommate was seemingly asleep already. How long had I been daydreaming? She wondered, trying to suppress her disappointment as she crawled into her side of the bed. “You asleep?” She whispered, lightly brushing his shoulder, but he did not react. Still in an aroused state, she lay motionless for several minutes, enjoying the comfortable mattress and pleasant fragrance of Junho’s room. A setting that had once been so new and surreal was quite familiar now, and she slowly drifted to sleep with the thought that it would be one of the last remaining nights she would experience it.

******

The first thing that Ryujin noticed as she regained consciousness was a throbbing sensation in her pelvic region, and that her pussy felt soaking wet. As she contemplated her dark surroundings, she realized that Junho was spooning her, and clutching her tightly against him. His broad forearm was resting snugly across her torso, and his hand had gone up her shirt. A tingle of pleasure shot from her chest to her sex as he twisted her erect nipple. He was awake, and he had her small frame completely constricted in his hold. Ryujin felt a warmth on her pussy, and gasped at the sudden awareness of what was happening. Junho’s big, hard cock was rubbing back and forth across her creamy folds, steadily tracing a line along her entrance, and making her gush as it made contact with her clit.

“Wh-What are you doing?” She asked, her voice cracking.

“Giving you what you need, obviously.” He replied, his stubbly chin scratching the skin behind her ear.

“But, you can’t-” She argued, feeling utterly helpless in his powerful clutch. She wondered what had happened to her underwear, which had apparently been removed. The forbidden friction between their genitals felt so wickedly good, and her body craved more.

“Can’t what? Do this?” He thrust his hips ever so slightly forward and his thick head prodded against her tight entrance, threatening to break the seal.

“NO!” Ryujin shouted. Her mind was racing now. Is this really about to happen? Is his huge dick about to stretch me open? The intrusive thought had bombarded her mind for so long now, and it was on the brink of becoming a reality. Junho’s large hand snaked up her chest, through the opening of her shirt, and clamped over her mouth. “Mmm!” She half-moaned, half-protested into his meaty palm. Feeling even more powerless than before, she writhed against him, able to move just enough that his cock slipped out of the crater and slid along her slippery slit. It kept finding its way back though, and pushed into her barrier a bit harder each time.

“Don’t worry. You’re going to feel so amazing in a second. Just give in,” he murmured, his words equal parts titillating and threatening.

Ryujin felt like she was about to be devoured by a python as she struggled against her roommate. She was completely at his mercy and was realizing that she was not going to be able to stop him. Is he even wearing a condom? She doubted he’d bothered to use protection, and a shiver ran down her spine at the idea that he was about to stuff his bare dick into her. It was something she’d never experienced, and made her feel even more vulnerable than she already was.

“You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re half asleep, and for all you know I’m your boyfriend. Just lay there and take it like a good little slut, okay?” Junho thrusted his throbbing cock more firmly still, and Ryujin’s tight hole began to stretch around the large, invading circumference. Somehow his twisted suggestion helped her relax slightly. She wasn’t the one pushing things further, and thus didn’t have to be responsible for it. She knew the logic was deeply flawed, but her brain was wholly flooded with desire and not capable of thinking straight. She could feel his fat, bulbous head sinking further into her one painfully slow centimeter at a time, and her pussy oozed lubrication to prepare for him.

Junho’s mushroom tip finally crossed the threshold, and it was suddenly buried completely, her taut walls enclosing it. As shallow as he was, it already felt like nothing Ryujin had ever experienced, and she braced herself for what would come next. Instead of further penetrating though, he went the other direction, slowly pulling out of her clinging pinkness.

He groaned quietly in her ear before pushing into her again, taking care to move as slowly as possible to allow her sex time to warm up to his. His roommate’s warm, gripping cunt felt even tighter than he imagined it would, and he was determined to enjoy every single fraction of a second as he breached her defenses. The sensation on the sensitive ridge of his crown as he passed into her again was euphoric, and he’d only barely sampled her surface. Junho felt his balls tighten as he fought the urge to drill into her further, managing his pace with all the control he could muster.

Ryujin’s entire body was ablaze. Her roommate’s careful teasing was breaking her will one painfully shallow thrust at a time. The need to have his fat cock fill more of her was becoming unbearable, and she began involuntarily bucking her hips back into him. Her efforts were mostly fruitless though, as he held her in place with unyielding rigidity. Her weak attempts to capture more of him only accomplished a dull feeling of shame as her deafening lust drowned out the last bits of reluctance she had left.

A thin layer of sweat was forming upon both of them as the heated interaction between their bodies went on. Junho continued to edge his tip in and out of her entrance, and could feel her juices coating him more and more, the viscous liquid running down the veiny surface area of his shaft. He felt her struggles to escape slowly morph into struggles to take in more of his cock, which would’ve prompted a triumphant grin if his face wasn’t already occupied with absolute pleasure.

“God, you feel incredible. Do you think your hot little pussy is ready for more of me?” He relaxed his grip on her jaw, allowing her the opportunity to reply as he continued to tease her.

“Nggghhh...” Ryujin couldn’t take it anymore. The rational part of her brain that had reaffirmed how wrong it was to be messing around with her roommate was lost in a thick soup of arousal. She was going to be fucked by Junho. At that moment, there was nothing else in the world that mattered to her. He was going to take her whether she wanted it or not, and she privately accepted that she wanted it more than anything. She shuddered in his arms; the thought of his monster cock filling her up completely was her singular focus.

“Beg me for more you sexy little slut,” he commanded.

“Fuuuuck...” She moaned. Despite how badly she wanted him, to actually say it out loud was too depraved.

Junho ceased his thrusting after pulling out of her, his throbbing hardness resting against her clit. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good. Just say it, and I’ll handle the rest...”

“Uggghh! Mmmpfff!” Ryujin tried desperately to wiggle her bottom into him, but could only slather her drenched lips against his skin. It wasn’t enough. Nothing but his entire, juicy dick fucking her would ever be enough. “Fuck! Fuck me! PLEASE FUCK ME!” As the words left her lips, her creamy opening was parted and her depths were stretched around him as he tunneled into her. “OHHHHH!” Her mind felt like it was exploding as every surface of her tight pussy was assaulted by his thick, throbbing cock. It forced its way deeper and deeper for what felt like an eternity, until it battered against her cervix. “FUCK!” She was absolutely stuffed full of Junho, and it felt like nothing she could’ve ever described before. She could perceive every subtle contour of his naked member pulsing inside of her, his skin against hers with no protective barrier.

Then he pulled out, swiftly and smoothly, the entire length passing through her again in reverse. She gasped sharply for air, just in time for him to plunge back into her. His hips crashed into bare ass with a loud slap, sending ripples throughout her curves as his invading cock sent shockwaves throughout the deepest parts of her. “FUHUHUHHHCK!” Ryujin’s muscles tensed up, and she was suddenly aware that a massive orgasm was about to consume her. “YES! YES! YESSSS!”

Junho unleashed his third powerful stroke, and Ryujin let out a guttural moan as she came the hardest she ever had in her life. As her body was flooded with endorphins, she writhed against him in total pleasure. He remained firmly planted inside of her, and she could feel her pussy spasming and clenching around him. She felt as though she was on a different planet as her climax rocked her body relentlessly. After floating on a cloud for a length of time that was not perceivable to her, she felt her roommate’s big cock move within her again.

With another loud crack of skin on skin impact, he thrust into her a fourth time, then a fifth. The fire that was Ryujin’s orgasm was stoked again and again as he fucked her with a steady and deliberate rhythm. “Oh my FUCKING Gahhhh!” Her screams of approval trembled as he pummeled her. The most potent climax of her life also became the longest as he would not let up. She couldn’t believe how incredibly intense it felt to be taken by him. She wondered if she had just discovered what sex was supposed to be like. Surely not. Surely it was exceedingly rare to feel this fucking good. She dug her fingernails into his forearm, holding on for dear life as he continued assaulting her.

Junho was utterly enthralled by his roommate’s body as he gave her his all. He was finally experiencing what he’d dreamed about for months, and it was even better than everything he’d hoped for. Her tight, creamy pussy hugged his cock perfectly as he molded her depths. The feel of her supple young body spasming in his arms, and her uncontrollable moans of pleasure were beyond encouraging. He was elated at how quickly she had taken to his dick. As he slammed into her again and again, his room was filled with the obscene sounds of their coupling. If his friend happened to be awake, he thought, there would be absolutely no hiding what was occurring. He was too wrapped up in the moment to care though, and he focused all of his attention on the gorgeous woman that he was currently inside of.

“God... Damn... That... Pussy... Feels... Good...” Junho growled with each firm thrust into Ryujin. He had the idea to slow down for a minute; to kiss her, and to let her face him. He decided that it wasn’t the time for sensual love-making though. If there was too much consent on her part, perhaps the guilt would overwhelm her, and create more of a future obstacle. In time, he planned, she would get over that, and be completely his, but he had to navigate the waters carefully. In that moment, only raw, animalistic fucking was what she needed. He would continue to take her from behind and give her an experience she would never forget.

With that thought, he stopped pumping for a moment, and lifted himself onto his knees while rotating her body, resting upon her prone form. Ryujin whimpered as he pulled out of her, her thighs still twitching slightly. There was just enough moonlight to see that her entire bottom was coated in glistening juices. Her full, round ass looked immensely appetizing as he lined up his slimy cock with her swollen pussy. He entered her slowly at first, bottoming out and savoring the return of her warm, wet embrace. “Mmm... This slutty little body was made for big cock,” he grumbled as he squeezed her malleable cheeks. Junho adjusted himself into a push-up like position with his hands on her lower back, wrapping most of her narrow waist in his sizable grip.

Ryujin was still in such a daze that she was barely aware of Junho moving on top of her. She felt a sudden vast emptiness that longed to be filled again, and unintelligibly cried out for more as her body was pinned against the mattress under his considerable weight. Finally, the overwhelming sensation of being stretched around him returned, and she clamped her eyes shut to endure it. “Ohhhhfff... Yes!” The new positioning felt different somehow, and her pussy gushed at the new variety of stimulation. She felt a bead of sweat dribble down the bridge of her nose before it was launched onto the pillow as Junho bucked into her from behind. “Oh my GOD!” She clenched the fabric in desperation as her roommate’s big dick began pounding her again. The amount of force that was being exerted into her body was mind-blowing. She had never felt so engulfed in dominance, as if she was nothing more than a ragdoll to be fucked by this apex masculine creature. It awakened something primal in her, and she came again at the thought of it. “I’M CUMMM-OHHHH!”

“Fuck yes baby... Cum all over that big cock you slut!” Junho was giving it to her at a renewed pace, his pelvis crashing into her ass again and again. Her convulsing pussy felt so incredibly good, and he groaned through the ecstasy that her responsive body was dealing him. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her upper body towards him, curving her flexible spine. He leaned back and continued to take her with him, her knees bending and bottom lifting off of the bed. With one hand on her luscious hip and the other still tangled up in her hair, he continued fucking his best friend’s girlfriend with all the strength he had.

Ryujin felt numb with pleasure from head to toe as her roommate had his way with her. It felt like she was being fucked through one long continuous orgasm, and she wanted it to never end. She was completely dumbfounded at the immense contrast between sex with her boyfriend, and the mouth-watering brutish treatment she was experiencing at that moment. Tae felt good inside of her, but she almost always needed some additional form of external stimulation to complement him. Junho, on the other hand, was a totally different feeling, and he was reaching places deep inside of her that had never been touched before. In addition to his ability to use his massive cock, the way he manhandled her and manipulated her body to suit him was an insanely hot turn on.

Junho admired Ryujin’s luscious figure beneath him. He couldn’t believe his luck at how deep she was able to take him in. He was penetrating her with his entire length, and it felt like the exact perfect fit. He was fucking her like a wild man, and she seemed to be loving every second of it. His heavy balls were constricting as they slapped repeatedly into her clit, and he began to feel that he was ready to burst. He slammed into her for the final few strokes he could manage before releasing a deep, satisfying roar and pulling out of her with a loud squelch. His throbbing cock instantly launched a thick, lengthy rope of semen that splattered against the back of her head and ran down the entire length of her spine. Another viscous strand was flung onto her, and several more followed, coating the young girlfriend’s backside in his sticky seed.

Ryujin moaned repeatedly as she felt her roommate climaxing all over her. She reveled in the dirty feeling of his cum forcefully blasting against her skin while her own orgasm still pulsed within her. He let go of her hair and her face slumped into the pillow, the sudden darkness only enhancing her sense of touch. The last two spurts splashed against her pussy directly, which felt titillating and erotic in a dangerous sort of way. She felt his shockingly heavy load pooling at the curved small of her back, and dripping down her ass cheeks. The thoroughly fucked woman remained still for a while with her plump bottom in the air, catching her breath while her head span aimlessly in a dense fog of ecstasy.

SMACK!

Junho’s wide palm brought her back to reality as he slapped her exposed cheek, sending beads of semen flying. She let out a girlish yelp that normally would’ve embarrassed her, but in that moment it was who she was. She was Junho’s fuck doll, and she felt far too satisfied to question it; more satisfied in fact, than possibly ever before. She collapsed into the soft mattress and felt him cover her with the blanket before passing out.

******

When Ryujin woke again, her brain felt clear and calm, but something about the lighting in the room felt off. She reached for her phone and felt a stab of panic as she realized she had slept in well past her usual rising time. Remembering she had the day off made the lateness of the morning less troubling, but there were several missed texts from Tae. She sat up, and the stinging soreness between her legs flooded her with memories of the previous night. She glanced over and was relieved to find that Junho had already left. She quickly swiped at her screen, fearing that her boyfriend had surely heard the debauchery. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” She cursed to herself, regretting how recklessly loud she had been. Her worries began to fade as she read his messages. He made no comments suggesting that he had any idea of what had transpired. He merely asked if she wanted to wake up and join him for some “Back to work” shopping.

As she peeled the blanket from her sticky body, she silently thanked the universe that Tae had not come to wake her in person. She twisted her torso to discover that she was still absolutely covered in her roommate’s drying cum. If her boyfriend had simply cracked the door open, the smell of the room alone would’ve been a dead giveaway. The stink of sex hung heavily in the air, a potent reminder of how intense the evening had been. Despite how physically sore and mentally conflicted she felt at that moment, the memories of the encounter and the evidence all over her skin was highly arousing. Her pussy was swollen and red, yet was already beginning to leak her sexual fluids. The feeling of Junho’s cock inside of her was not an easily dismissable thought, and the way he had taken her was nothing short of mind-blowing. Ryujin resisted the urge to touch herself, and instead jumped out of bed and headed for the shower.

As the scalding water cleared the mess that Junho had left behind, Ryujin pondered her current predicament. Gone was the comfort that full-on, penetrative sex was still reserved for Tae alone, the last remaining pillar of her faithfulness in shambles. If only she had been able to summon the strength to prevent it. Then again, she thought, Did I even really have a say at all? HE fucked ME, and not the other way around. I was just trying to sleep. Ryujin’s mind rationalized the event for nearly an hour in the steamy bathroom, and she emerged ready to face the day.

She made plans to meet Tae at her clothing store to help him pick out some new outfits for work. They ended up spending the entire day out and about, and she did her best to bury any guilty feelings that arose intermittently. That night, Tae did not make a move to have sex, which quelled her fears that he would somehow be able to notice what Junho had done to her.

******

The next evening, Ryujin began to grow nervous as she would be joining her alluring roommate in bed, and didn’t know what to expect. They had only seen each other briefly in passing since he’d fucked her, and she had done a lot of processing since then without running it by him. She was going to attempt to reestablish some boundaries, but in the back of her mind, knew it was a nearly impossible challenge. When the time came, she kissed Tae goodnight, and entered Junho’s room with determination. He was sitting on the bed, fully naked, looking like a chiseled statue of peak masculinity. She felt a tingle in her pussy and his eyes on her while she walked around to her side and sat next to him, leaving her tiny elastic shorts on.

“So...” She started, not yet knowing which words to select. “We shouldn’t do that again...”

“Do what?” He grinned, brushing some hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“You know...” She could feel herself blushing. The physical contact from him in the space where he so recently had his way with her spawned a spark between her legs.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” Junho said playfully. He knew it was a sensitive subject that required careful maneuvering.

“Okay, uhhh. But seriously, that stuff is dangerous. Like... It’s too good...” She admitted shamefully, dropping her chin.

He smiled at her, and tilted her head up with his finger. “Whatever you say.” He cupped her feminine jaw in his large hand, and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. Her pussy gushed.

Ugh, why is he being all weird? Ryujin wasn’t sure what he was up to, but figured he was probably planning something. “We can still like... mess around and stuff. As long as we’re committed to ending all of this when we start paying rent again.” Her eyes dropped to his bare cock, which was slowly inflating to its full size. I can’t believe that fucking thing was inside of me.

Junho pressed his thumb against her lips, and eased it into her mouth. She responded by lightly sucking on it, becoming increasingly turned on by the second.

“Mess around, eh?” He asked calmly.

“Mhmm,” Ryujin nodded cutely in agreement while swirling her tongue around his finger, squeezing her thighs together in anticipation.

Junho gently removed his thumb from her mouth. “That’s okay. You’re right. Best not to push it. We should just go to sleep.”

“But-” She shot a glance at his massive erection, shocked by his sudden denial.

He lightly tapped her cheek with his palm. “Goodnight Ryujin,” he said, grinning, before turning away from her and switching off the light.

The young woman sat there in the dark, bewildered and horny, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She wasn’t going to beg him to touch her, if that was the game he was playing. She did want him to though. Bastard... She accepted the turn of events and lay on her side to go to sleep.

After several minutes, just as she started to drift off, she noticed a rustling behind her. There was movement in her blanket, and suddenly her shorts were ripped all the way down her legs and clean off of her. Before she knew what was happening, she felt Junho’s large frame shove against hers, and his hands squeeze her chest. “Hey!” She thrashed against his hard body, instinctively fighting to get away from his trap. “Are you serious? We just-” Her breath was taken away as he shoved his hard cock straight into her without warning. She was still plenty moist, and her pussy welcomed his intrusion. “Anghhh!” The pleasure center of her brain was abruptly firing on all cylinders as he eased his way to her deepest reaches.

“Shhh... You’re still asleep, remember?” He whispered mischievously.

“Ngh... Oh fuck... Ohmmmy God... You fucking ass... Ooooh!” Ryujin moaned as quietly as she could, remembering that not much time had passed since she’d parted ways with her boyfriend, who was likely still awake in the other room.

“If you weren’t soaking wet for this, maybe I’d reconsider, but I need to give your body what it wants.” Junho’s big cock plunged in and out of her sopping wet hole at a calm, but steady pace, while he groped her covered tits. She gasped as he easily tore the flimsy fabric of her top into two pieces, exposing her jiggling breasts, before continuing to roughly caress her. Here she was once more, fully under his control, and powerless to stop the man’s aggressive assault. All she could do was hold on tight, and savor the delight of cumming on his fat dick over and over again. He made her feel so devilishly good, and she was secretly thrilled that he ignored her original protest.

Junho fucked her long and hard that night, albeit slightly more gently than their first session, knowing that her body was still adapting to him. His sexy roommate’s heart-shaped ass served as the perfect cushion to thrust against, and her soft moans into the pillow were music to his ears. Every time she came he would relish in the feel of her hot little body quivering beneath him while her tight pussy squeezed his cock. He finished in the same fashion as before, painting her exposed skin with his copious load before calling it a night. Ryujin was left panting, swimming in pleasure, and drifting off to a deeply satisfying slumber while drenched in his semen.

The following morning, she was the first to wake, and smirked at the realization that her roommate was still spooning her, fast asleep. She could feel his raging hard-on poking her butt, excited by the notion that they were apparently both still horny. She carefully shifted her body out of his embrace, and rotated him to be on his back. Ryujin threw her hair back, and lowered her face to his stiff erection. It smelled of sex, and she touched it with the tip of her tongue to sample the potent flavor of their combined juices. It was intoxicating, in the best way, and she licked it all over. She longed to straddle him and feel that thick cock sink into her needy pussy, but that would be too forward. She couldn’t allow herself to be the one to initiate sex with him, as that would erase the miniscule amount of innocence she had left. Instead, she took him into her mouth, and began sucking him lovingly.

Junho stirred, lazily opening his eyes to see his beautiful roommate with her lips around his dick. “Hoooohfff... Well good morning, you little slut,” he muttered, placing his hands behind his head. He let himself sink into the comfortable bed as he savored Ryujin’s warm mouth fervently sucking him off.

She popped him out of her mouth, slowly stroking his saliva-coated shaft with one hand. “Be quiet. I just need to take care of this before it gets you into trouble. Who knows what you would try to do to me...” She explained playfully.

“Good point. Unspeakable things, probably,” he flirted back. “Mmmm... Yesss. Right there...” He palmed her head and pushed gently in encouragement. She was bobbing her head enthusiastically while stroking the base of his cock with her soft hand. It felt amazing, and Junho relished in the glorious wake-up call that his friend’s girlfriend was giving him willingly.

“Jeez, don’t you ever run out of stamina?” She asked teasingly, taking a brief moment to catch her breath.

“Never. How else would I claim you for myself?” He chuckled, noting his dried cum on her shoulder.

“You wish,” she answered.

“Why don’t you cut the bullshit and climb on for a ride, sexy?”

“I can’t do that. You know I only have sex with my boyfriend.”

“Ohhh riiight.”

The pair exchanged knowing glances before she took him back into her mouth. Ryujin slurped and stroked his big dick diligently until he unloaded his balls down her throat while flexing his muscular thighs from the overwhelming pleasure. She drank all of his spunk down and sucked every last drop from the tip of his head. “Finally. Now we can get on with our day,” she rolled her eyes and smiled slyly, then got out of bed to collect her clothes. Ryujin scoffed at her ripped up shirt, and threw it at her roommate impishly. “Now I have to get to the bathroom topless, you jerk!”

Junho reached for his crumpled up t-shirt on the floor, and tossed it in her direction.

“Hmmpf!” She voiced defiantly, slipping the oversized garment onto her bare torso. She quietly opened the bedroom door, and peeked into the apartment’s living space to confirm that it was empty. Ryujin tiptoed across the room to the bathroom, and grabbed the cool door handle. Against all odds, she was greeted by Tae’s voice, emerging from his bedroom.

“Morning, babe.” He muttered sleepily, causing Ryujin to freeze in her tracks. “What are you wearing?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh... This? I dunno... Oh yeah. It’s Junho’s shirt,” she stammered, knowing it was too obvious of a fact to lie about. “I... spilled water on mine last night, and didn’t feel like walking all the way to my closet...” She could feel her cheeks turning crimson with guilt, but forced herself to look her boyfriend in the eyes.

“Okay...” Tae replied, clearly suspicious, and not particularly thrilled that his girlfriend was seemingly naked under his friend’s shirt.

Ryujin awkwardly forced a smile, and entered the bathroom hastily. God dammit, Ryujin... The guilt-ridden woman bathed herself, feeling badly that things had gotten so out of hand. Just minutes ago she was lovingly servicing Junho’s big cock with her mouth, and she had initiated it. When did I become such a fucking slut? Why can’t I control myself around that man? She could feel the aftermath of what he had done to her last night, as if he had rearranged her insides. Even now, amidst all of her shame and remorse, a filthy, nagging part of her brain wanted to fuck him again. There wasn’t any space to feel guilty while her mind was occupied fantasizing about her dominant roommate storming in there, shoving her up against the wall, and having his way with her.

******

There were two more Junho nights before Tae’s first day at the new job, and on both occasions, Ryujin was dripping wet before she even entered his bedroom. Her resolve to be good quickly fell apart, and she stripped all of her clothes off and placed them in a neat pile. She told herself that she couldn’t control what he would do, so she might as well not have her wardrobe ripped to shreds. While it did make sense to preserve her clothing, the more glaring reason was to entice the man to make a move, and provide the easiest access. She slipped under the covers and lay in her sleeping position.

“Don’t even think about it.” Facing away from him, she felt like bait, pretending to innocently go to sleep, and knowing that at any minute the big bad predator would be all over her. Her needy pussy leaked generously as she waited with anticipation for him to fill her. She never looked at him during the act, nor directly encouraged him, afraid to cross the line of “questionable consent” that they had established. She knew it was a dicey game to play, but worried that her guilt might reach the point of no return if she was fucking her roommate behind her boyfriend’s back as an outwardly willing participant.

After just a handful of rounds with him, Ryujin was becoming addicted to Junho’s cock. She found herself daydreaming about it constantly: the way it felt when it entered her for the first time each encounter, filling her perfectly; the manly aggression she was subjected to as it pummeled her insides, using her tight welcoming hole to get to the finish line; and the degrading but delicious sensation of being covered in the dominant man’s virile load while she lay there in the most vulnerable position.

When the time finally came and Tae announced that his initial day at work had gone well, Ryujin was relieved, though there was a part of her that didn’t want the agreement to end. Her boyfriend was all set to earn his first paycheck in two weeks, at which point there would no longer be any reason to sleep in Junho’s bed. She thought back to when her roommate had first proposed the arrangement. Mere months ago he shocked her with the wild suggestion, but it felt like ancient history. Her past self wouldn’t have been able to fathom what had become of her, but also was completely oblivious to the mind-bending pleasures that were possible.

She and Junho did not openly discuss the impending end date, but they both kept it in mind while carrying on with their routine. Ryujin continued to strip naked and let him have his way with her for each of their final nights together. Though they did the deed more or less in the same fashion each time, it grew no less exciting, and each of their forbidden encounters became the highlight of their day.

On the last night of the agreement, she resisted the urge to break the routine with some symbolic gesture, but Junho had other plans. After losing track of how many times he’d made her cum, she felt the familiar sensation of his cock swelling inside her to signal his orgasm had arrived. She waited in anticipation for him to pull out, but instead he thrust firmly into her again and held still, tightly clutching her hips to trap her against him.

“Oh fuck! Wh-What are you- OHHHH!” Ryujin moaned in ecstasy as she felt a warm jet of semen splash against her cervix. Her roommate’s wildly throbbing dick shot rope after rope of thick, sticky seed deep within her unprotected pussy. He groaned hoarsely and thrust in and out of her ever so slightly while draining his big balls into her. The feeling of Junho’s huge cock spraying its dangerous, heavy load at her deepest depths was quite possibly the hottest thing she had ever experienced. Already blissfully enjoying the way he dominated her, to have him seal the deal and lay claim over her womb took it to the next level. Her fertile young womb, which she had always taken such immense precautions to guard, was now being flooded with what she could only imagine was billions of very capable sperm.

It was as if Ryujin’s biology kicked into overdrive, and she helplessly quivered against her roommate as her brain was saturated in endorphins. Her pussy eagerly milked the ejaculating cock for all its worth, as she came in unison with him. It was exhilarating to think that her body was doing everything it could to soak up as much of his seed as possible, with an utter disregard for any consequences. Junho pumped jet after jet of his thick spunk for what felt like an impossible length of time. There was simply no space left in her stuffed cunt, and she felt the creamy substance overflowing and dribbling down her thighs.

“Unnnghhh... Take all of that cum you fucking slut. You’re mine now, do you understand?” Junho grunted, staying firmly planted within her as his big cock spurted the last few drops.

“Oh my God... Fuuuuck...” Ryujin couldn’t think straight, feeling wholly dominated and satisfied in the moment. “Yesss... Ngghhh... I’m your... Slut... Ohhh fuck... So much... Fucking... Cum. Give me it all...”

Junho finally broke the seal, pulling out of her and releasing the extraordinary pressure that had been built up inside of her. His gooey, pearlescent semen flowed out of her gaping pussy like lava. It was a shame for so much of it to go to waste, he thought, but was confident that it was only the first of many loads he would put inside of her. If he had learned anything about his roommate, it was that she was not going to be able to resist him for long, agreement or not. He moved to his spot but watched her delicate form intently. He felt nearly ready at that moment to confess that his feelings for her had blossomed into something more than just sexual desire. It would be better to wait though. He would give her a chance to realize herself that she wouldn’t be able to go back to how things were.

Ryujin collapsed onto the soiled sheets and basked in the post-orgasm glow, her upper back rising and falling as she caught her breath. As she drifted back down to reality, she recognized that she should be more concerned with the fact that Junho had finished inside of her, and that the massive pool of cum was still oozing out of her. She convinced herself that it was a problem to worry about tomorrow, and that tonight was for dwelling on pleasure only.

[yeyinde]

STRAW HOUSE, STRAW DOG

Baby Trap + Soap x Fem!Reader : or, Johnny finds a wife in the woods and decides to take her home.

18+ | DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT: noncon, kidnapping, breeding/baby trapping. somnophilia. implied stalking. obsessive behaviour. forced reliance/dependency. non-con drug use (implied). vulnerable character (injured reader) being preyed upon by an opportunistic scavenger.

Somehow, getting hurt in the remote wilderness of Nahanni National Park without any immediate rescue is the least of your worries when a rugged man shows up and claims he's going to help. Out here, you've been told your biggest fear should be bears, steep canyons, and a swift death with fangs and claws.

But maybe you should have been more concerned about strange men with crowlike smiles and blistering eyes.

ADDITIONAL TAGS: descriptions of injury. implied head trauma. bearded Soap. smut. this is my love letter to NWT and a what not to do in a national park.

BABY TRAP MASTER LIST | AO3 LINK

It happens in an instant. 

The trek up the fjord narrows suddenly. Chossy growing slick from rainfall the night prior. You pace yourself, stepping carefully on the wobbling slate, testing its resilience before you take another step. Climbing higher. Higher.

There's a storm brewing in the distance. Its burgeoning pace grows rapidly, nipping at your heels as cool winds whistle through the steep valley below.

The park wardens at the visitors centre warned you about it when you set out into the rugged wilderness of Nahanni this morning. Brows pinched, wary, when you'd come to them—all alone—and signed your name on the barren ledger collecting dust on the counter. A fact that drew your attention when you flipped through the empty pages. 

Don't get too many visitors around here, the man murmured, eyes cresting in apprehension at your question. Not the most isolated or remote, no. That's probably higher up. Quttinirpaaq, maybe? Heard from some buddies up there that they had no visitors last year. We do pretty well. About one thousand a year? Usually filmmakers and the like. Adventurous types. Gets kinda lonely up here. Ain't no Banff, that's for sure.

They added that the weather was unpredictable this time of year. All year, really. Nahanni is known for sudden swells and white-outs, for weather that can turn in an instant, going from calm to cataclysmic within seconds. 

(“Storms,” the man huffs, and you think the sigh was meant to be a laugh. One that falls flat when he takes in your hiking boots (too big, but the sales lady at the sporting goods warehouse assured you it was fine, that you would grow into them), and your cheap Lululemon knock-off tights. Your flimsy rucksack. The tinge of green around your ears; the stench of an overeager novice. “And, uh, it’s urban legends.”)

Valley of the Headless Men, he intones, squinting up at you when you ask about them. Adding: be careful out there when you turn to leave.

Dauntless, you still set out into the park, determined to at least make it to your campground before it set in. But the majesty surrounding you on all sides distracted you from your pace. Eyes caught on the Xanadu of an untempered wilderness slowing your trek to a crawl as you took in the steep, rolling batholiths reaching high into the aether, their sides sloping down in a dizzying, vertiginous drop to a lush valley below of scheele’s green below. It all looked so perfectly symmetrical from the high point in the valley where you stood, breathing in the scents that perfumed the air. With the rugged mountains cupped around a winding white line where the river sawed through. 

A lone moose grazed at the bottom of a rolling fell. The sight of her stopping you in your tracks long enough that the plume of darkened clouds—all a terrifying burnt sage—had time to catch up to you, crackling overhead as thunder rumbled through the canyons. 

Your campground is at the top of this ravine. Three nights spent inside a cabin with nothing but yourself and several paperbacks for company. Into the Wild amongst them—a morbid parting gift from a friend on what not to do—and its inspirational predecessor, On the Road. 

You won't read it. You never do. But it sits, a humourous paperweight, in your rucksack as you clamber up the ravine. An anchoring comfort. A piece of home. Something that reminds you you're not completely alone even though you are. 

The book, your friends, and the encroaching loneliness that you feel prickling behind your eyes, all weigh on your mind. Spooling out before you in loose, loop threads. You follow them eagerly, glad for something to abate the unnatural silence, and—

A sound.

It comes from the left, hidden in the thick tangle of furze. A click. It shatters through the eerie quiet of the sprawling boscage. An animal, maybe. Hopefully. 

It must be, you think, heart hammering thunderously in your chest. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You hold your breath. Eyes glued on the thatch of green shrubs lining the base of the dense forest. 

Nothing happens. You blink, shifting on your feet—

A red line pierces through the gap between the leaves, aimed straight at your ankle. It's thin, diaphanous. Slips over the scraggy rock like liquid.

It's so out of place here that it takes you a second to familiarise yourself with its unexpected presence. A laser—

An explosive boom fills the ravine the moment the thought connects. A rifle. Aimed right at you. It happens fast. The world turning over itself, spinning right off its axis. You fall against the ledge in a crumpled, heavy heap, legs so close to dangling off the precipice. 

Gravity is a choking weight on your sternum, pushing you down, down, toward the jagged, rocky shoreline. A fall like that—

You curl into yourself instinctively. 

“Ah, shite—” is all you hear amid the roar in your ears. “Y’alright? ah didnae see ye thare—”

In your tear-stained periphery, a man appears. He stands into the glare of the waning sun, limned in a halo of gold. There's a pinch between his dark, thick brows. A steep ravine.  He's ragged. Wild. Tuffs of black hair hang loose past his ears and nape, curling slightly at the ends. It blends, almost seamlessly, into his thick, scraggly beard. He pushes a hand through the top, grabbing a fistful in his palm.

“Easn't expecting anybody oot 'ere. Nae this far intae th' woods.”

He seems to be speaking to himself more so than he's talking to you. There's anger writ in the fine lines of his face, but this ire isn't turned toward you. It's inward. Self-admonishment. His eyes darken when they flicker down to your ankle, as if reminding you of the hurt there when you'd been so focused on how out of place his accent is in the Northwest Territories.

The ache in your ankle brings you crashing back into reality. The pain seems to vibrate from within your marrow, riveting up your bones. 

You chance a glance—

You swallow down the drum of panic. A trick of the light. It must be. 

A dream. A nightmare. 

But the man appears. His hand falls onto your knee, holding you steady. 

“Ah will hae tae put oan a tourniquet. Will hurt a lot, doe.” 

Absently, you nod. Keep nodding. Can't stop. 

There's a hole cut through your ankle. Tore thro' yer Achilles, he's saying, words water in your ears. He instructs you to wiggle your toes.

"Ah know it hurts, but just dae it fer me, okay?"

You do. You—

Nausea buds in your guts, churning your stomach. The apple you ate earlier is choked out into the bushes dotting along the ravine. Insides purging themselves, replacing everything—food, water, coffee from earlier, bile—until nothing but shaky panic remains. It tastes like iron in the back of your throat. 

“Ah know, doe,” he's saying, fingers knotting into your slick hiking trousers. Lululemon knockoffs from an outdoor warehouse in the city. A pocket knife follows, and cuts a seamless line inches below your hip. 

Sad tae see ‘em go, he murmurs, accent thickening around the words. Saturating them in a drawl that's too liquid for your unpractised ears to catch. He makes a mournful sound when he slides the blade down your leg, adds, “hugged yer arse like a dream, doe.”

Another trick. The mountains do funny things to sound, you know. It must be all in your head. All—

“Don't worry,” he's shushing you now as he peels the fabric off your legs, groaning low in his throat. “Ah have ye. Ah will take care o'ye, tae, doe. Bonny thing, aren't ye? a' alone. Nae anymore, doe. Jus' me 'n' ye now. Jus' us —”

You always thought you'd have your wits about you in a traumatic situation. Be able to think clearly, rationally. Make appropriate decisions that befit the situation unfolding. Life saving ones. Practical. 

To gear up for this trip, you watched survival videos on YouTube. How to make a fire. How to make drinking water. How to build a shelter. Tips on weathering down for a sudden storm. Tucked it all inside your head, and thought, I got this. 

Had to, really, because everything you've read about Nahanni says it's unpredictable. Calm weather, gorgeous views one moment, and then a sudden deluge the next. Snow falling quicker than you keep up with. Animals blend in seamlessly with the landscape. Slips, falls. It's so easy to get lost, someone wrote. 

But as he uses the scrap of your trousers to wrap around the wound on your broken, mangled ankle, you realise all that planning was for nothing. This was one of those moments when you discovered just how much you bit off. That panic made you mute, made you freeze up. 

The pain is almost secondary to the surge of adrenaline. Fear.

You need to go home. You tell him this, slowly. Muttered through numb lips. 

There's something almost like pity in his eyes when he glances up at you. 

There was a mix-up, he says, slowly. Cautiously. You got yourself turned around in the opposite direction. There's no campground on the fjord above. All the lodges and cabins are in the opposite direction. 

Y'got lost, he tells you. Turned the wrong way out. Ye'r in th' backcountry.

“I'll go back,” you press, urgent. Insistent. Panic is acidic in your throat. Corrosive. It burns when you swallow. “Please, just tell me which way to go, and I’ll—”

"Cannae dae tha'."

“Why?”

“Storm,” he points in the distance where a plume of cloud gathers. So dark, they're almost black. Ominous. “Gonnae skelp solid. Na choice but tae git oot."

“I don't have anywhere to go—”

He rakes his hand through his hair. “Ah kin take ye tae mines. Git a cabin in th' woods. Juist ootdoors o' Nahanni Butte.” 

“No, I—”

His hand squeezes tight around your ankle. The pain makes itself known in a visceral, awful throb that travels up your leg, curdling at the base of your spine. Wrong, wrong. Something is wrong. Your body is trying to reject the agony. The breaking of your bone. It's foreign, it doesn't belong. But there's nowhere for it to go. 

Pain pulses in tandem with your heartbeat. 

You don't realise you're screaming until you hear the echoes of it rebound against the limestone walls. And then there's a whisper in your ear. You feel the scratch of his beard against your cheek.

"Shush, bonnie. Cannae let ye go oot oan yer own. Gonnae take ye home, yeah?"

Home. Home. You nod furiously, and it's only when the scraggly black curls covering his chin and jaw catch on damp skin do you realise you're crying. 

He leans away from you, arm stretching toward the rucksack behind him. 

The rifle leans against it. You feel sick all over again. 

“Drink this,” he says, unscrewing the cap. “It'll make ye feel better.” 

He presses the lip to your mouth, a hand slipping over the back of your head, tilting your chin up. “Drink,” he says again, and it's firmer this time. A command. “Ah promise ye'll feel better, doe.” 

It tastes bitter. You swallow it down. Keep swallowing.

“Good,” he rasps, hand sliding down the length of your spine until it rests against your lower back. “Keep drinkin’, sweet thing.”

It pools in your belly, sloshing uncomfortably when you move, but it washes the bitterness from between your teeth. You keep drinking. Swallowing it down. You know you shouldn't, that you might get sick again, but it's a distraction from the mess that is your ankle—bloody, twisted, mangled—

Nausea swells. You choke it down until you can breathe without feeling as though you were going to be sick again. 

“You'll be okay,” he's saying, moving around you with a practised efficiency for something so broad. It's almost graceful. Agile. 

He patches you up as much as he can with the supplies he has, but you refuse to look again at your ankle. It's broken, that much is clear. You can feel your bones grinding, sliding against each other. The sensation is horrific. Wrong. You turn your head to the ledge you were standing on just to distract yourself from the agony of it all. 

You're surprised you're not crying. Screaming. The urge is there, just beneath the surface. But for some odd, unfathomable reason you find you can't. Your chest feels heavy. Lungs sluggish. Slow. 

It must be an adrenaline crash, you think. Why else would you feel so tired, so exhausted. 

“I'm—” you start, but you feel dizzy. “‘m—”

“Shush, doe.” He mutters, and it sounds far away. Garbled. “You need yer rest. Had a traumatic accident. But don't worry. Ye can trust me. A wouldnae let anythin' ill happen tae ye ever again."

“Yeah,” you breathe, nodding. Nodding. You can't stop, can't—

“Lay back. Git some rest. A'm almost done, 'n' then ah will hae ye back home in no time—”

You come to on a groggy whimper, head buried in the messy locks curtained over his nape. There's a soft, pulsing thud in the back of your head when you try to lift it up. It feels heavier than it should. Leadened. You groan again, fighting against the currents dragging you back down to those soporific depths—

Your head is a slurried marsh. Thoughts ephemeral, broken. Fragmented. They slip through your fingers when you reach for them, diaphanous wisps you can't seem to catch. 

“Don't worry, doe—” your world quivers when he speaks. Words vibrating through your chest, catching on the heavy rails of your ribs. The seismic vibrations rumble in your ear, coming to life as a mere echo in your head. “Ah will keep ye safe.”

It's comforting. A raft in squall, something to cling to as the waves make futile attempts to drag you under. Your arms, dangling loosely over his shoulders, sluggishly flatten to his chest, linking over his chest. 

He grunts at your touch, palms slick on your skin. 

“Thank you,” you slur, words thick in your throat. Sluggish. “Thank you for helpin’ me. Fer savin’ me—”

Your body shakes when he trembles. With your forehead against his nape, you hear his thick swallow. The air ghosting out of his lungs in a soundless whisper. 

His hands flex around the backs of your knees. Squeezing tight. The man doesn't say anything for a moment. In the silence, the pursuing somnolence catches up to you. It digs heavy fingers into your eyes, dragging you back down into the sticky, thick tar. 

Sleep finds you in an instant. 

You try to read his words in the quiver of your bones when he speaks. Make sense of the tremble reverberating through the hollow gaps, tangling in the pulpy mess. 

But there's a mistranslation somewhere. A missing decibel. A forgotten wavelength.

It almost sounds like he says—

“Wouldn't leave mah wife alone in th' woods like tha’.”

How funny, you think, and hide a giggle into the hardened ridge of his shoulder blade. 

Cognisance is a transient flicker.

You're not sure how long he matches through the thicket with you on his back, navigating the unending chaparral with an ease that feels innate rather than practised. You stare down at the ground, world hazy around the edges, and think, suddenly, intrusively, that you ought to remember the steps. Every left, every right. 

You get to seven lefts, three rights—a small ravine, a flattened coppice; a gnarled spruce sat alone in a valley of lush green and clumps of topaz podzol—before your eyes are too heavy to keep open. They slip shut. And you think, only for a moment. Just a second, I just need to rest my eyes, and then come to at the sound of a groggy engine growling to life. 

The world morphs from a dense forest intercut with sheer cliffs looming, indomitable, in the grey distance, to the faded beige felt covering the ceiling of an old truck. 

Your blink is a slow crawl, lashes weighed down by anchors dredging over the seafloor. Gritty, raw. It hurts, now, to hold them open. A furious throb jabs at your temple. It aches like a bruise. But it's nothing compared to the nauseating agony that floods your core each time your foot is jostled. Nerves being lit aflame in an endless throe of pain unlike you'd ever experienced before. 

Your mouth feels sealed when you go to speak. Lips glued together. Sluggishly, you squeeze your tongue through the crack between your teeth, licking along the seam. 

A plastic bottle appears in your periphery, nozzle tipped toward your mouth. A hand curls around the body of it. Fingers overlapping. It looks small in this big hand. Tiny. Long wisps of black hair cover their ruddy knuckles, spreading in a dense crop up their forearm, growing thicker at the wrist. 

Their skin is pale, tinged slightly pink. Even through the brume, the lambent light of the sun catches on their skin. Illuminating small scars, cuts. Little scratches from the snagging furze. 

Their hand shakes. The dark veins that branch off from the white-capped peaks of their bent knuckles pulse under the thin skin when they move. 

“Drink, hen,” he murmurs, bringing the bottle to the jut of your lower lip. “Ye’ll need it.” 

A plastic bottle is an odd choice to bring into the backcountry, but as you peer through the translucent skin, you find the water inside is cloudy. Chalky. 

“Donnae worry—” he gives the bottle another shake, disturbing the sediment congealing at the bottom. “It's electrolytes, ken. Nothing fishy.”

Your teeth ache from the cold when he slips the rim between your lips, prying them apart. With your head already tilted back in the seat, the water slips in. A slow trickle. He feeds it to you, humming in appeasement when you swallow. 

“Tha’s a good girl.” 

It carves a jagged tunnel through the murk in your head. The praise slipping in, liquid, until it coats your burgeoning trepidation in a sudden swell of endorphins. With their unpractised, gauche hands, they paint a mockery of Sargent in the gaps of your synapses, stuffing the spaces between with oversaturated hues of teal, white, yellow, orange, and pink. 

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose. 

But despite the shoddily crafted pastiche, it works. 

Your eyes flutter, bones growing heavier, heavier, as they're forced to carry the weight of your liquified flesh. This molten heat in your chest turns your insides into putty.  

Water dribbles down your chin. He sees it and coos.

“Ah, doe. Right mess ye are now. Ah will hae ye home in no time. Git ye a' cleaned up."

The idea of home melts you further. You sigh in the seat, soft and drawn out, and shake your head slowly when he wriggles the bottle in front of you again. 

“Get some rest, doe,” his hand falls, heavy and warm, on your thigh. Thumb stroking along the curve of your leg, fingers curling into the seam, digging deep. Resting there. 

It's too high to be appropriate. You know this. Went through lesson upon lesson in school of bad touches and what's considered friendly, polite. But when you try to open your mouth to say something about it, you catch the spread of his palm over your flesh. Wide, broad. Masculine. It catches in your throat, and gets tangled in the mush at the base. 

It should be fine, you think, dizzy over the way his hand swallows you whole. He saved you, after all. 

But it burrows. Digs deep. Some sense of wrongness permeates out from the firm grasp he has on you. It feels possessive. The sort of thing you might expect between people who are intimate with each other. A couple. You've known him for—

Hours, maybe? 

Most of it was spent in a pain-induced hypnagogia. 

It curdles in your stomach. Rotten, spoiled milk. 

But—

He saved you. 

You'll choke yourself on it if you keep thinking about it. So, you don't. You push it down. Cover it beneath the sediment, and bury it deep. 

He's just a man. 

Kind. Helpful. 

As you dig a hole for this unease, he keeps his hand fixed on your thigh. The other is pressed against the steering wheel, the ball of his palm under the curve at the top of the wheel. Relaxed. Easy. You try to adopt his nonchalant disposition and glance out at the blurry world around you. 

You feel exhausted. Unsettled. The sort of fatigue that comes with a raging fever. There's sand in your mouth. Your throat is dry. 

You don't ask for water. 

In the lull, he pitches the truck forward with a grave rumble. The silence is broken by the crunch of vegetation and gravel beneath the wheels as he ploughs forward. 

There are public roads to get to Nahanni. The floatplane you entered into the park on was chartered by Parks Canada. And yet—

He commandeers the truck around a flatbed of rock and dirt. Muskeg dots the tops in some places, and he veers expertly to avoid them. 

It's less of a traditional road and more so a forged desire path. You know the highway has to be close by, the link between Fort Liard and Fort Simpson, but as you peer out the window, the world around you looks overgrown. Wild. Alien. 

Sloping hills in lush green stretch out into the distance, meeting with the dense montane forests dotted along the stretch of land. The grassy coppice under his wheels is matted down, and interspersed with clumps of brown, wet muskeg and crushed slate. 

Over the grey peaks of the mountains in the distance, a thick, black cloud looms. The sky turns gunmetal, almost indistinguishable from the monoliths jutting beneath them. 

At some points, he takes his hand off your thigh to navigate winding turns better, but it always ends up back on you. And always a little higher than it was before. 

Your mouth is filled with lead. Tongue thick, malleable. Tensile like mercury. You can't speak. So you just ignore it. Dig your crown into the headrest, and breathe in the woodsy scent of him. Laurel, tree moss. Coumarin. Rotting pine. Sweet acacia. It tickles the back of your throat. Sticks there, glued in the syrupy mess. 

You'd hoped it would get easier to ignore, but it stays there, a constant weight, even as the world outside fades into a hazy twilight. 

In the hush of the cabin, he squeezes your thigh. “Cannae wait tae get ye home, doe.”

Against the staggering backdrop of a black, jagged mountain, a doe stands in the talus. Her fawn fur and tuffs of white spots stick out against the charcoal-coloured cliffs, and you watch, some distance away, as she bends down to fossick through the scree in search of food. 

With the looming clouds of gunmetal and ash gathering around the craggy peaks, her presence here feels dangerously out of place. Jarring. She shouldn't be here. She doesn't belong. 

But the beauty of this moment is breathtaking. Mesmerising. You stare in muted horror, awe, as she grazes in the rubble, slender neck bent in a graceful arch. The sloping handle of fine china. Her wet, black eyes are so open, so kind. Puddles of ignorance, naïvety, as she flicks her tongue out against the desolate rock, a fruitless search for grass in which to mull on. 

Thunder crackles over the snow-capped ridges. Her ears flicker, but she doesn't run. You should warn her. Scare her away. But you can't move. Can't speak. You're a mute spectator, a piece of dross on the ground watching the approaching calamity without a mouth. Horror churns. You want so badly to tell the doe to run—

An impossibility, you know. It's much too late for her to do anything at all. 

Around the doe’s leg is a shackle. 

Your skin rips, tears, as you force your jaws apart, blood pooling in your mouth. If you can make a sound, she’ll—

A boom echoes through the canyon's cradle. 

The scream gurgles in the back of your throat. 

Agony rips through your leg—

—you wake with a gasp. 

Sputtering, choking on the saliva pooled in your mouth. It tastes bitter, brackish. You feel something gritty between your teeth. It sticks to the backs, granular specks that dissolve, sour and chalky, on your tongue when you run it along the ridges of your gums.

You swallow it down, grimacing at the acidic taste. 

“Awake, aye?” His voice chips through the dense fog. You blink the haze away, glancing sideways at him through bleary, heavy eyes. 

His profile is lit by the harsh glare of high noon. The sharp jut of his ball cap. The curve of his nose set in the thick bushel of his scraggly beard and moustache. His broad chest concealed most of the view from the driver's side window. The lax bridge of his arm, knuckles loosely curled around the steering wheel.

He tilts his head toward you. “How're ye feelin’?”

Sluggish. Awful. There's sand in your eyes. Cotton in your head. You feel like you've been left out in the hot sun all day. Dizzy and sunburnt. Feverish. Heatsick. Your throat is dry, but you don't ask for water. You don't answer him at all. Can't. Your tongue is laden. Lips numb. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself, squinting through the glare of the sun—

That reels you back. Breaks through the fog. 

You know that the concept of day and night in the summer is different here. Twenty hours of daylight with twilight lasting all night. But even with the skewed perception of time and the heavy molasses thickening around the edges of your cognisance, you know that something is wrong. 

When you left the park, it was close to five in the evening. It should be twilight, not—

Your gaze lists sluggishly to the clock on the dashboard. Through the haze, the unmistakable gleam of one-fifteen stares back at you. 

It was the right time last night. 

“Wha—?”

You're not sure what you're asking. It's not even really a word, but a garbled sound. A noise of distress, confusion, in the back of your throat. 

He seems to understand it all the same. 

“Park had a bad storm,” he answers, pitch far too light for the severity of your situation, of what you're feeling. It makes you frown, sharp and sudden. “Washed through th’ river. Where ye were—well. Wouldnae ‘ave made it out, ye see. Would’ve gotten all torn up in th’ storm—”

You read that storms in Nahanni are vicious, sudden. Weather can turn in an instant, going from moderate to devastating in a blink. But—

What he's saying doesn't make sense. You remember bits, pieces, from earlier. He said you got turned around. Wandered too far off the trail, lost in the deep wilderness of Nahanni’s sprawling valley. 

“Where are we?”

“Nearly home.”

You push the wave of nausea down. “I need to go to a hospital.”

“Can't dae tha't'.”

“Why not?”

He doesn't answer for a beat, eyes fixed on the dirt path. Unblinking. 

Finally, he mutters: “had tae leave th' park oan th' opposite side when th' storm came in. No roads take us tae town.”

“I have—” you're not sure where your bag is. You hope he had the wherewithal to snatch it up after you fell. Hope. “I have a satellite phone. I can just call—”

“Sorry, hen. Yer bag flew off th' ledge. Ah coudnae grab it 'n' ye. Ah dinnae hae a phone oot 'ere. Never needed one—”

Hopeless. Hopeless. 

“How—how could you survive out here without one?”

“Nahanni Butte is a few hours awa'. Go intae town when th’ winter road is open. Inaccessible now. Th’ rivers flooded it. Cannae cross it. Can hunt, 'n' ah hae everything a'm needin' oot here.”

“So…” the reality of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. Helpless. Hopeless. “I'm stuck here until—winter?”

“Ah hae a friend flying oot fae Yellowknife. Comes tae drop off supplies 'n' th' lik'. He'll be 'ere in two months—”

“Two months?” This whole situation feels impossible. Wrong. You're so close to people—Fort Liard, Nahanni Butte, Fort Simpson. How could you be stuck here for two months? The idea of it is absurd. “You're not—you can't be serious.”

“Aye. I am.” 

There's a pinch between his brow. You wonder if it's meant to convey the severity of the situation, but as it grows deeper, deeper, you have the sudden sense that it's not an emotional decree of his sincerity. That it's, instead, a sudden twist of anger. 

It scares you. 

“I want to go home.” You mean for it to be forceful, but it comes out in a whimper. 

The man nods. The punch in his brow lessens. “Aye, me tae.” 

“Where are you from?” You pry, needing the distraction from the endless trawl of green and slate and permafrost enclosing in on you. “You're not from around here, are you?” At the gentle raise of his brows, you add, hurried, rushed: “you just. Have an accent, and I—”

“Fae Scotland,” he answers, and there's a quick grin on his face. Roguish. Charming. The sight of it has your start thudding in an uneasy gallop. “Edinburgh."

“Oh. Far from home.”

“Aye—” the grin fades, twisting into something ugly. “Had an—accident,” he spits the word out, brows pinching once more. Anger is writ in the hard clench of his muscles, his jaw. His knuckles blanche around the steering wheel, and you think you should have just kept your mouth shut. “Sent me here.”

There's a multitude of questions you want to ask. Vying for the top is the most obvious—why did this happen? why isn't he letting you go?—but what comes out instead is, “why?”

Just that. Nothing else. 

“Military.” 

He adds nothing, either. 

“Military?”

A nod. “Go’ hurt. Had rehab. Sent me here tae clear ma heid, and well—” his eyes flicker to you. You can't read his expression. “Got a fresh mission, dinnae I?”

“You don't—”

“I cannae leave ye. Both oo' us are stuck 'ere 'til someone comes tae pick us up, 'n' take us home.” 

The idea that somehow he's just as trapped as you are hasn't occurred. Why would it when he has a rifle, a truck, freedom—

But what good is all of that when you're landlocked in a place known for winter roads. Permafrost. The forced shift in perspective doesn't quell the anxiety roiling in your guts, but it lessens it. Somewhat. 

“Two months?”

He nods. “Aye.”

“And you have no cellphone? No satellite?”

“Ye can check it—” he makes a flippant motion toward the glove box in front of you. “Deader than ever.”

You hesitate only briefly. Long enough to level him with a searching look that yields no results before you reach for the compartment, gingerly pulling it open, and—

Sometimes, things get overlooked by their surroundings. Swallowed in the vacuum. Blending seamlessly into the muddle, the commotion. 

This isn't like that. 

It sits on top of a manila folder. Sleek black and cold silver. You're not terribly well-versed in guns—the extent of your knowledge stemming mostly from formulaic crime shows aired late at night; CSI, NCIS, Criminal Minds—but you recognise this one instantly. Some sort of handgun. Police issued, you think. It's bigger than you'd expected. Looks heavier, too. 

Your heart stutters. The air galloping out of your lungs in a stammering rush. 

He makes a noise, soft and nonchalant, as if keeping handguns in the glove box of his old, burnt orange truck is perfectly normal. 

“Fer protection,” he mumbles. You catch the jerk of his chin in your periphery. “Forgot I had it in here. Been usin’ th’ rifle fer huntin’ mostly. Or th’ shotgun.”

Three guns. You swallow. “Why—” your voice comes out in a brittle whisper. You clear your throat. “Why, um, why do you need three?”

“Not fae around here, are ye?” He echoes your words with a wry twist of his mouth, eyes slanting in the sunlight. “Tha’,” he takes his hand off your thigh to jab his finger at the handgun. “Is fer wolverines.” His index finger falls, his thumb juts out. He jerks it over his shoulder. “Tha’ is fer huntin’. The shotgun back home is fer bears.” 

You try to move out of the way when his hand falls back to your thigh, but the pain radiating up your leg immobilizes you. There's not much you can do in this situation but endure.

Military. Wounded in action. Three guns. Touchy. 

You're not sure what to think. It would be easier if you couldn't. 

“What do you hunt?” You ask instead, glancing out the window to the barren landscape rolling out around you. There doesn't seem to be much in the jagged hills, and towering mountains. 

“Gettin’ hungry? Donnae worry, doe. Go’ tha’ pesky hare I was tryin’ tae shoot oan th' ledge fer dinner tonight.” 

It's not much of a comfort. The idea of being injured—by accident, he claims—to such an extent over a rabbit makes you feel a little sick. 

“That's it?”

“I can make a mean steak oot o' anythin'. Stews fer tougher meat. Fish—whitefish, arctic grayling, and lake trout. Learned how tae make a nasty fishfry from th’ locals in Nahanni Butte. Bannock, too. Got berries ‘round ma cabin. Caribou, Moose. Taste better in tacos or burgers. Mountain goat, Dall’s sheep. Been eatin’ better ‘ere than ah did at home.”

“And you're—just allowed to hunt them?” The website advised about a permit through some special outfit needed to hunt when you requested your pass into the park. Said that only aboriginals were allowed to do so. “You're not—”

“Aye,” he cuts you off with a small nod. “No huntin’ in th’ park. But. We're nae in th' park anymore.”

“Where are we?” You ask again, firmer this time. 

“I told ye. Nearly home.”

“And where is home?” 

The way he sucks his teeth makes you recoil slightly. Wet. Irritated. As if he's tired of this conversation already. 

“Close.”

You don't let his flat tone deter you. “Are we—are we still in the Northwest Territories?”

“Thereabouts.” 

It's not an answer. It doesn't reassure you in the slightest. 

You open your mouth to say so, words curling on your tongue when he jerks his chin toward the handgun, brow furrowed. 

“Thought ye wanted tae check oan th' satellite phone.”

His tone is severe. A growl curdling the ends, pitching it down, down. Displeasure, irritation, blooms in the gnarled petals of witch hazel when he narrows them into slits. 

You swallow, wrenching your gaze from the storm brewing over fields of wheat, and set your jaw. Masking your fear for annoyance. Confidence. 

But your hand shakes when you reach for the black box shoved into the corner. Palms slick with sweat. You try not to touch the gun, doing your best to curve around it. It feels—

Real. 

A real gun. In the real world. In a place you came to get away for a weekend, experience something you'd never had before. Freedom. Reliance on nobody but yourself. And now—

Somewhere in the Northwest Territories. Injured. Locked inside of a truck with a man who wavers between warmth—an unending heat, a furnace; a beacon of light—and severity like a swinging pendulum. You feel safe with him. You commit every turn to memory. He's in the military. He's going to take care of you. You think he's lying to you. He'll—

He'll let you go. 

You're sick. You're paranoid. You're taking all of your grievances out on this poor man who is just as trapped as you are, turning him into a monster for no reason at all. At the end of this, when he drops you off at the airport in Yellowknife, you'll have to grovel on your knees for his forgiveness. Sorry I thought you were a bad man. 

It could be worse, you suppose. He hasn't done anything untoward to you—touching your thigh like he's owed the right aside—and you shove it down. A problem to deal with later even though the suspicion tucks itself into your head, folded up against your skull. Metastatic. It eats all of his expressions, turning them over and over again for hidden clues. 

If he does something, you'll run. 

You'll—

“Almost there,” he murmurs, and you hear the rasp of exhaustion glued to the hinge of his jaw. You wonder how long he's been driving for. And why didn't he just go back to Nahanni Butte. Flooded he said. Too deep into the park. Never would have made it. 

If that's the truth, you suppose you should thank him. 

It sits in the back of your throat. You swallow around it, reaching for the phone instead. 

There's a small thread of hope in your chest that it'll work. That he's wrong, doesn't know how to work it, and all you have to do is press a button and it'll crackle to life. Freedom within reach. 

But when you press down on the button, the phone doesn't even whimper. Broke, as he said. Dead. 

“Can you—can you charge it?”

“Tried. Must’ve blown somethin’ inside. Fried it.” 

His words are a prison sentence carrying a punishment of two months. You knew this, of course. He said so himself. But the reality of it breaking over you is different from blind belief. The realisation of your predicament is a jagged knife cutting through tissue, letting corrosive panic entrench you as it spills out. 

This is the sort of thing you’d only read about. Novels, and biographies. Memoirs. Movies. An extraordinary event that could never happen to you. Never. 

And you're aware of it. Optimism bias. The not-me fallacy. But everything in your life thus far had been so unequivocally mundane that the possibility of it not happening seemed to eclipse any chance of it occurring at all. 

The crux of the bias, you suppose. Though it does little to stem the disbelief surrounding it all. Even when you told your friends, and your family, that you were going on this trip, the most mordant of them said you'd get eaten by a bear or end up lost in the wilderness. 

Injured, unable to walk, and stuck with a man you only marginally know (trust) seems like the plot of a lifetime movie. 

But—

Two months. 

You're sure in the meantime, someone will notice your absence. Raise the alarm. Call the police. They'll launch an investigation, and come searching for you. It's just a waiting game. 

And—

(You glance at the man once more, his profile limned in a halo of gold. The rim of his hat casts shadows over his face, eyes concealed in the thickening tenebrous that enshrouds him down to his broad chest, dense with corded muscles. Athletic. Trim. Big.)

—staying alive. 

Survival. 

If only for just two months. 

But the facts are cold, unforgiving. You are alone with a man you don't know. A man with three guns. Military. His experience in this wilderness vastly eclipses your own. 

He's fine. Fine. Touchy, sure. But he hasn't asked for anything. 

—his hand is on your thigh—

You'll be okay. 

It hurts to swallow. “Thank you,” you murmur, hoping the conciliatory lilt eats the panic you feel. “For saving me.” 

His gaze darts to you so sharply that the truck veers slightly to the left, tires crunching over thick beds of furze that line the forged road. The action is sudden—surprised, maybe, by your reedy gratitude. A deviation from the demeanour he'd shown you so far—calm friendliness. Affability. It jars you. Scares you. You grip the seat cushion tight in your fists as he mutters something sharp you can't discern under his breath. 

It only takes him only seconds to correct, rippling his hand away from you to commandeer the truck back into the centre of the beaten path. Even keeled now. Almost as if nothing amiss had happened at all. 

But it's undeniable. Congeals in the air, tense and unignorable. A vacuum that siphons the breath from your lungs. It sits in the whites of his knuckles, arsenic bones jutting from thin, rough skin, demanding to be seen; the terse set to his shoulders. To the grind of his jaw as he clenches his teeth. 

You take him in with bated breath, swallowing whole each microcosm that buds to the surface of his demeanour. Wary. Watchful. Squeezing the satellite phone tight in your hands. But he doesn't meet your wide-eyed stare, choosing instead to keep his gaze fixed on the dirt road. Knuckles popping, brows furrowed. Silent. 

But it's heavy. Oppressive. The same unrelenting chill as outside. You fight back a shiver in the blooming cold, wishing you'd packed more than just a pair of hiking tights (in tatters, now) and a thermal windbreaker for the trip. 

The hum of the engine, and the cracking of rock and muskeg crushed under the wheel, are the only noise that fills the cabin. You stifle your breath. Hold it in your throat. Skewer your eyes to the landscape yawning out around you. The deep, thickening sense of unease grows in the pit of your stomach. Metastasizing. 

Outside is a sprawling taiga forest. Emaciated spruce, balsam fir, jut out from the muskeg, dusted in a sparse layer of sphagnum. You can almost hear the trickle of a stream. The dirt road is wet under the tires now. A creek must be close by. A river. Flat River. South Nahanni. Further out might be Slave River. The Liard. Little Buffalo. Great Slave Lake, even. 

Narrowing it down seems impossible when nearly the entire south corridor of the Northwest Territories is wet marsh and snaking bodies of water. 

It both worries and reassures you at the same time. Getting to Nahanni alone was a challenge. With most of the surrounding area limited to a few year-round highways, there are not many places he could go without reaching dead-ends or winter roads closed for the season, inaccessible in the warmer summer months as the snow melts. 

Though—these highways arch as high as they can. From Yellowknife to Tuktoyaktuk, right on the coast of the Arctic Ocean. 

But he hasn't driven on any stretch of highway since you woke up. The road is unpaved, wild. You're confident you're still south, but the exact location eludes you. Northwest Territories. Yukon. Northern Alberta. It's overwhelming. Daunting. 

You try to commit the geography to memory. Sifting through an endless trawl of nothing to find something familiar. A mountain range. A sign. Anything. Anything—

“Ye mean tha’?”

The sound of his voice draws your attention, raspy. Hoarse from disuse. 

He swallows. There's something raw in his expression, fractured. Yearning, you think. For something. What that something is, however, you can't place. 

It stays on as he slowly slides his tongue out, licking over the bristles of hair covering his lip. 

You offer a shallow nod, unsure why this matters to him suddenly. 

“Yeah, I'd be—” 

You pause, words turning to smoke in your throat. Uninjured, is the first thought. Without him, your leg wouldn't be—

Whatever it is. Ankle broken. Achilles torn. A gunshot wound clean through tendon and tissue. 

But at the same time—

All turned around, he said. Lost. He was hunting, too. You must have somehow wandered outside of the park limits. Must have because the sound of a rifle would have drawn attention from nearby wardens. They'd have come to investigate. 

You swallow down the bloom of unbridled panic. The aftertaste is bitter in your mouth. The thought of being outside of the borders, all on your own—

“I’d be dead if it wasn't for you.” 

The hush that falls is immediate. Your own mortality dangling by a thin thread. Happenstance keeping you alive. 

He clears his throat again. Your fingers tighten around the metal until it hurts. 

“Names Johnny.” He twists in his seat, facing you. “Johnny MacTavish.” 

It's a bit late for introductions, but you take it in all the same. Johnny. Johnny.

(saviour—)

His eyes grow wide when you slowly, haltingly, breathe yours out. Letting it sit in the air where it dissolves into the silence, the weight of it somehow more damning than being alone in the woods. There's power in a name. In knowing it. Military. You're not sure why it matters, but it does. 

You fight another shiver when he says it back after a beat, much too fond, adoring, for the sparse companionship you've barely begun to build. 

“I'll keep ye safe,” he says your name again, accent curling in between the bridges of each letter. There's a heat in his eyes; pyretic. A sickness. “Don't hae tae worry aboot anything.” 

He turns back slowly, angling the wheel around a sudden bend in the thicket. The path is clearer here, looking more like an established dirt road than a sparse coppice. It twists upward, cutting a meandering line through a dense cropping of spruce. The canopy above—as thick as it is—curls over the road, enclosing it in a bed of conifers branching overhead. Concealing it from view. 

The sight fills you with a new bloom of unease. How quickly the wild swallows you whole, shielding you from prying eyes, prickles against the nape of your neck, dripping like hot oil down your spine. 

“Where are we?” It comes out in a whisper. 

He makes a noise in the back of his throat. In your periphery, you see him lift his hand off the wheel, but sit, paralyzed, when he brings it down to your thigh, giving what attempts to be a pacifying squeeze. 

“Home,” he answers, making the turn. 

A log cabin comes into view. It’s situated at the end of the clearing, covered by the same dense tangle of trees as the path. The forest seems to bend around the single-storey home, enclosing in a cradled embrace of intermixing wry jack pine, bold tamarack, dark spruce, and white birch. Trembling aspen peaks above the heads of the other trees, hiding the smoked black spruce roof from view above. 

It might look homey under different circumstances, but the thick, stripped logs—made of varnished white spruce—jutting out half-crescents to form the walls seem brooding. Claustrophobic. It's small—just a storey and a half. A camper's cabin not meant for longtime use. It wears its age in wood rot and peeling varnish. The scent of wet wood clings to the air when he rolls the window down, coming to a stop a few paces away from the single step leading to the porch. 

Firewood stacked high to the awning on both sides of the blue door, encased in metal to keep it dry. Moss-covered concrete foundations lift the house off of the ground, keeping it from melting the permafrost below. The remains of a snuffed, charred campfire is perched to the left of the winding path leading to the door. Felled lumber lays on its side, the top whittled down onto a seat. A wooden rack leans against a tree close by. The hide of an animal is stretched taut across the panels. Leather-making materials sit in a bucket beside it. 

A metal box—bear-proof, you're sure—is half-buried in the soil. Storage, perhaps, for the unusable remains of the animals he hunts. 

It's fairly standard for a cabin up north, you think. But something about this place makes you feel anxious. Trapped. You can't see anything at all through the dense cluster of trees, but you can hear the sound of running water. A river, maybe. A stream. It splashes against the rock, the current too quick for you to even think about swimming in it. 

It only adds to your unease. 

“This is home,” he says, jerking his chin toward the house. 

Home is a cabin nestled somewhere in the unorganised wilderness of the Northwest Territories. Nahanni National Park is several hours in another direction. Too few communities exist on highway seven for you to even stumble onto them—

Assuming, of course, that you could walk there to begin with.

The lingering pain in your ankle, the heavy bandage wrapped around it—it's an immediate certainty that you can't walk. Broken, you know, from the glimpse you'd taken before. Milkwhite against raspberry red—

You don't think about that. 

You don't think about much at all. 

“Right.” You murmur. This place is the furthest thing from home you could imagine. 

He moves in your periphery, reaching for you. You jerk back, driven by instincts. The need for distance, space—

The jostling of your foot makes you hiss in pain, and he offers a conciliatory hum. 

“Ye’ll be alright, bonnie. Lets jus’ get ye inside now.” 

The inside is made of varnished wood. A mix of black and white spruce. It's cosy, you suppose. 

It opens up to a living room immediately upon walking in the door. A mat sits under your feet. A small closet to the right with the door slightly ajar. Along the length of the left wall is a doorway spilling into a small kitchen. From your vantage point, you make out a sink, and then another door to the right. 

Along the back wall beside the arching doorway is a brick fireplace. Soft fur is spread out on the ground in front of it. An old, weathered couch is pushed against the left wall, a shawl tossed over the back. 

There's no television. A stack of books and magazines sit above the couch—used more for an end table than entertainment, you note, spotting the glass of water resting on the pile. A pack of cigarettes beside it. An ashtray on the floor. Bottles of beer sit on the small table shoved under the window. One of the chairs is covered in clothes. 

It's lived in, you note, but lifeless. 

There are no pictures on the wall. No personal artefacts littered around. It's—

Perfunctory. 

He comes home, shucks his boots off by the front door, and drinks warm beer on the couch until he falls asleep. An inference, of course; but as he carries you further into the house (his insistence—ye cannae walk oan tha’, doe, stop bein’ stubborn and lemme carry ye), your notion gains credence. It's sparse. Threadbare. 

There's a single plate in the sink. The old stove, separated from the sink by a small countertop, is covered in a layer of dust. A fridge is pushed against the back wall. 

The door you glimpsed in the kitchen leads to the washroom. It's tight. A shower, a sink, a toilet. No windows. A towel is hung over the curtain rail, still damp from his shower before. A single mat covers most of the tiled floor below. A tube of toothpaste sits in the porcelain basin of the sink. 

Beside the washroom is the master bedroom. The bed is unmade. An untouched glass of water is left on the end table beside a worn leather book and a bible. 

An open closet sits across from the bed. The window is open. The breeze flutters the old, jaundiced curtain. 

He gives you his room and says he'll take the couch. Under normal circumstances, you might have fought it. Insisted that he sleep in his bed. You're a guest. You couldn't put him out like that. But the door has a lock. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, and he seems to tremble at your words before nodding. 

“O' coorse.” 

Johnny places you on the bed before he sets to work rebandaging your ankle. You're all too aware of the fact that you need to know. You need to see what you're dealing with, and how bad the damage is, but the pain that cuts through you when he rests your ankle—as gingerly as he can—on top of an extra pillow makes you yowl in agony. 

It's vicious. Whitehot. The pain rattles through your bones. 

He shushes you as he unwraps the clumsy brace he put on in the park, murmuring incomprehensible things under his breath that you think must be Gaelic. Words of comfort, perhaps. 

You feel none of it except an uneasy dread pooling in the empty pit of your stomach. 

“How bad is it?”

He hums, brow pinching tight. “Th' hare took most o' th' damage,” he says, eyes tracing along the congealing blood on your ankle. Dark cherry red. You swallow down a gag. “Tore yer achilles, though. Clean. Doesn't seem tae be any fragments. Broke your ankle, though. But,” he taps your calf, just above the bend of your foot. It doesn’t hurt. “It’s a clean break. Maybe just a fracture. Shuid heal up in no time.”

“And what about infections?”

“Got some stuff oan hand if that happens,” he leans back, and gives you a wink. It feels out of place considering the severity of your predicament. Garish, almost. “But ah was a good nurse. Patched ye up nicely.” 

You don't ask anything else, and silence trickles in as he refocuses his attention back to cleaning your wound and redressing it. The bed is soft under you. Giving. You lean back, staring up at the log ceiling, and will yourself not to think at all. Each slight jostle of the wet cloth running along your ankle feels like fire licking at your skin. If you had anything at all in your belly left, you might have thrown it up on the side of the bed. 

This pain is consuming. Persistent. 

Your fingers knot into the soft blankets below, gripping tight until your knuckles ache. A futile attempt to exchange this pain for a lesser one. Something you can ignore, forget. 

Through the open window, you can hear the playful caws of a raven searching for food. You want it to distract you, to pull you away from the sickening sensation of your ankle separating from the heel, but it doesn't.

All you can think about is the fresh pain. Your flesh ripped apart. Torn achilles, he'd said. You feel it as he moves, washing away the dried blood, the viscera. The break in your tibia. It's a nauseating feeling. Visceral. It screams at you that something is wrong, reverberating through your bones. 

The raven caws again. 

“Gonnae ‘ave tae stitch yer heel up.” 

You make a sound—a pathetic whimper choked in the back of your throat. 

“Fine,” you rasp, tensing. “Just—”

Get it over with. 

Johnny seems to understand, offering a consolatory pat on your shin. “Ye'll be fine. Ah know what am doin’.”

You glance back at him, avoiding whatever is happening below his elbows. Refusing to look. 

He reaches up, fingers stained pink with your blood, and pulls the ballcap off his head, shaking the matted hair loose. His hair is thick, curling at the ends. Dark brown. Soft. You take in his expression, him, as he works, using it to churn your thoughts away from the prickling sensation of him pressing your torn skin back together, readying it for the needle. 

He's intense, focused, as he works. Eyes lidded to half-mast. Long lashes fanning out over the dark circles beneath his eyelids. Bruises that speak of long, sleepless nights. The empty bottles of beer and the full ashtray within arm's reach make a little more sense as you see the extent of his fatigue. 

It doesn't concern you. You rip your gaze away from the thin, twisting rivers of red that snake through the jaundiced whites of his eyes; the possibility of his vulnerability notches something inside your chest you don't want to think about. Can't. 

Your saviour, you think again, veering sharply on the edge of too cruel—

“Might pinch a bit, doe,” he mutters low, soft. His thick, even brows pull together at the centre. You feel the prick of the needle pushing through your skin—

Down his brows. The oblique curve of his nose. Bottled to a point. The thick bed of hair beneath his nostrils. Thin, pink lips jutting from the thatch of black bristles. The wisps curl down the slope of his neck, thinning at the hollow below before thickening back into a dense crop on the scant patch of his skin visible from his unbuttoned shirt. 

Another prick—

A thin, gold chain loops around his neck. Tucked against his sternum is a Latin cross. It's plain. Traditional. Solid gold, maybe. But not purely for decoration. Where the arms meet the body, the surface is smoothed down. Worn. In the reflection, you can see the thin, circular lines of a fingerprint. 

The bible on his dresser makes sense. You glance over at it, taking in the folds and creases on the leather cover. Aged and well-loved. Used. Pages are dog-eared. Waterlogged. Scotch tape holds the spine together. 

The Holy Bible gleams in faded gold lettering. Douay–Rheims is etched into the surface. 

The sight of a worn-down book and thumbed cross shouldn't relax you, but it does. A good ol’ boy, then. You turn back to him, eyes caught on the gleaming gold flush against tanned skin. It's tight to his sternum. Hung delicately around his neck. 

Seeing it now feels a touch voyeuristic. It wasn't intentionally bared to you. Wasn't offered up willingly for you to gawk at, mind looping around thou shalt not kill and do unto others as you yourself would want done unto you, and finding comfort in the ordered morality of its symbolism—however fickle that could end up being. 

You know a man is not as moral as his religion demands of him, but he looks devout. 

A good Catholic boy. 

Still—

You peel your gaze away from his chest as the thread slides through. The sensation is uncomfortable. Ticklish. Forcing your attention back to him, well above the neckline. His nose. Nostrils flaring when your knee jerks. His hands close over your shin. Mouth parting slightly just to say, keep still, doe. Donnae want tae hurt ye. 

His hair is slightly greasy near his scalp. Sweat from earlier dampens his locks, flattening it tongue head. It's longer at the top compared to the sides. An odd, asymmetrical hairstyle that doesn't feel like an aesthetic choice at all. Maybe he had a mullet. Or—

You see it when he tilts his head down, chin angled toward your foot. 

A scar stretches from his temple back, thinning the hair that lines his scalp on the right. The flesh is jagged, uneven. Cratered. It forms a ravine. The canyon walls clumped scar tissue. The nullah in the centre is all pink and raw. 

You think of a shooting star. Meteor showers in the indigo sky. 

You think of his words from earlier—ah know what am doin’—and the depth of his medical knowledge. It stands out now. You suppose he would, wouldn't he?

The thought has shame dripping down your spine like hot, slick oil. Burning. Tarry. You remember what he said in the truck about being wounded in action, the misery in his words, the anger, and choke yourself on the regret that swarms your throat. 

He looks up, then, catching whatever awful amalgamation of self-hatred, shame, and regret makes of your expression, and the words—sorry, I'm so sorry—tear through your throat until it's bloody and raw. Pulp. Unspeakable, now. 

It dampens his brow, but there's no embarrassment in his eyes when he holds them to yours. Nothing except an intense, dizzying sense of curiosity. Of—

Intrigue. 

It doesn't have a place here, and the sight of it is sobering. 

Why is he looking at you like that when you're gawking at his injury? Confusion knots deep. Uncertainty coiling around your ribcage. Maybe he didn't notice. Doesn't care. 

Is too used to it to worry about whatever conclusions you might draw from the jagged skin barely knitted back together. But his eyes flash. Understanding edging out the unfathomable greed lurking in hazel plains, nestled, restive, in the shade that falls over the sloping boscage. 

You almost miss the shadow when it appears. Wrought with Leashed ghosts. Tempered anger. Wild, frenetic. The chains holding it at bay tremble. Shake—

And then it's gone.

Dissolve back into passive cordiality. All ire stayed behind a wall. 

You want to apologize, but the words are ash in your throat. Unspeakable. Johnny doesn't address it. He dips his head down once more, silently refocusing his attention to your ankle, and offering no explanation for the scar on his head. 

You don't ask. Don't pry. It's not your place. But your eyes are still glued to it. 

It's a horrific injury. Survival from such a terrible wound seems like an impossibility. A gunshot, you're sure. Seeing the small chasm carved into skin, narrowly missing his eye socket, fills you with a blistering sense of pity for this man, and you quietly, quickly, peel your eyes away from the jagged surface, letting your gaze run across the room. A meagre sense of privacy, you're sure, but it lets you breathe a little easier when you can't see the way his temple split apart to make room for a bullet—

“Had a mohawk,” he says. “They cut it off when this happened.” 

A mohawk. The asymmetry of his hair makes sense now, and you can almost picture it as you stare at him. The edges shorn, the top long. Unruly. His hair has a slight curl to the ends, but is mostly straight for the first few inches. 

As wild as he looks now—untamed, rugged; the thick tangle of uncharted wilderness—the mohawk must have made him roguish. Boorish. With his broad shoulders, thick biceps, and piercing blue eyes, the mohawk would have added to the playful appeal. Boyishly charming with his cropped hair and puckish grin. The draw of a bad boy, a vandal. 

But as you try and shape this around him, you catch the strain in his shoulders. The terse set to his jaw. 

“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“Was shot.” 

It's said without a preamble as if he was waiting for you to ask. But the words are spat out like they're something foul in his mouth; like he's ridding the taste of it between his teeth. The anger, the aggression cows you slightly, but you offer a small, warbling smile you hope is conciliatory. Apologetic. 

“I'm sorry,” you offer around a stuttering exhale. You can't imagine what that must be like. Shot in the head. The idea is unthinkable. Improbable. And yet, the evidence slashes across his temple; a meteor shower carved into his flesh. 

He lifts his chin, staring down at you from the bridge of his nose. “Wasnae yer fault, doe.” 

“I know, I just—” 

Johnny gives a nod in response, ending the bubble of words and apologies building up behind your teeth. It is what it is, he mutters when you blink at him, flummoxed. This sort of reveal seems like it should necessitate a bigger conversation, a deeper one. Questions buoy to the surface—from prying (how did it happen, how did you survive) to intrusive (what did it feel like, does it hurt still)—but you trample them until they sit, a building mass lodged in your throat. 

He seems content, then, to continue with what he was doing, and says nothing more about it. And it's not your place to pry. To chisel into his trauma. 

You let it pass. Let it moulder. 

The raven caws once more. You lean back in his bed, staring through the fluttering curtains, mind reeling at this discovery. 

Stupidly, you feel more at ease in his presence. As if this show of vulnerability somehow negated the distress of your predicament, and the infeasible nature of how you ended up here, in his home. Gazing through the thick canopy of green to the golden sky above. A whole world away from your home. Broken. Injured. But the cross, the thumbed-through bible, and his human fragility seem to curl along the vicious dread curling inside your guts, soothing over the distrust with gentle, sweeping brushes. 

Quelling a frightened child after a nightmare. 

How strange, you think, but let yourself relax in his presence all the same, breathing in the scent of stale smoke, sweat. Coumarin. Tree moss. Fresh pine. It smells like the valley. Soft, waning detergent. Masculine. 

You pretend you're watching for the raven as you sneak small glances at him. Taking in everything with a new perspective. The broadness of his shoulders. The thickness of his waist. There's power in his arms, in his thighs. Sculpted musculature, honed and refined. Despite the thickness of his fingers, he has a delicate touch. Deft and sure, as if he's used to working his bulk around small parts. 

He's unkempt. The ballcap hid most of his dishevelled state, but he's not sloven. It reminds you of the outdoorsy explorers. The hikers you met on your trip out. Roughhewn and unconcerned about their overgrown beards and their tousled hair. 

There's something potently masculine about it, and you can't deny that even with the garish wound on his head, all mangled scar tissue, he's handsome. Rougish. The scar elevating it somehow—a testament, perhaps, to his resiliency. 

He catches your stare on the next glance, holding it as he leans back with a quirk of his lips. It's not quite the grins he aimed at you before, but the shadow of it lingers. 

“Now,” he utters, the severity in his tone makes you flinch. Sobering quickly under the weight of his solemnity. “Th' bad part.”

“Bad part?” You echo, confused. “What could be worse than that?”

He taps two fingers against your swollen ankle, urging you to look. You swallow and force yourself to glance at where he rests his fingers. 

With your split heel stitched up and wrapped in bandages, the sight of your leg doesn't make you want to curl into the fetal position and cry. But it's still horrifying to look at. 

A mass half the side of a baseball juts out from your skin. 

“Ankles dislocated,” he murmurs, sliding his fingers over the mound. “Gotta pop it back into place.” 

“That's not—” you shake your head. “That's impossible.” 

“S’okay, doe. I gotcha.”

“That's not the point. That's not—”

“Look,” his pitch lowers dangerously, firm now. “Gotta do it or you'll have problems later on. Much worse than a bit o’pain.”

“But—”

He inhales sharply. “Can't let it go, doe. Gotta fix it.”

You understand the logic in that. Leaving a dislocated ankle will undoubtedly cause problems later on. But—

“Will it hurt?” 

Your fear quiets the irritation brewing in steeled hazel. “Aye. I won't lie tae ye, doe. It will hurt.” 

You swallow around a whimper. 

“But,” he leans over, his hand sliding over your cheek. Cradling your face in the palm of his hand. “I'll do mah best tae be quick. Ah won't hurt ye, doe.” 

It must be the way he carries himself that puts you at ease, so assured in his abilities; confident in what he can do without any sense of grandiosity. 

“Fine.” The word is juttered out of your chest. “Just—”

His thumb catches the tears that spill over your lashline, swiping them away with a tenderness that makes you shiver. 

“Ah’ll be quick.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two chalky white pills. Tylenol, he mutters, catching the furrow of your brow. It abates the unease somewhat, and you let him drop the pills into the flat of your palm, rolling them over with your thumb as he grabs the water on the end table. They're circular with a slit down the middle. 

“It'll take the pain away.” He says, holding the water up to you. “Ready?” It's uttered so severely, so seriously, that your breath hitches in your lungs. Mirth blooming between your teeth. 

“As I'll ever be,” you rasp out before popping the pills into your mouth, cradling them on your tongue protectively as you reach for the glass he holds out. They're bitter. 

You wash it down with a mouthful of stale water before leaning back on the bed, letting the scent of his sheets wash over you once more. 

Outside, the raven trills. 

The pain of popping your ankle back into place leaves you a weeping mess in his sheets, but Johnny doesn't seem to mind the shuddering sobs. He pets down your back, shushing you quietly under his breath as he mutters something in Gaelic that you're sure is meant to be soothing. 

“Ye’ll be fine,” he says, tracing figure-eights down your spine until the Tylenol kicks in, and the agony tapers off into an aching throb. “Jus’ breathe. Ah’ll get ye somethin' tae eat.”

He leaves soon after. You let the numbed, drowsiness of the pain medication lull you into a doze, listening to Johnny move in the kitchen. The squealing slide of unvarnished wood rubbing against old metal. The thud of a knife. The scent of hot oil. Muttered curses. A playful raven's caw. 

You're not sure how long you slip in and out of this dreamless state, but Johnny appears in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the frame. He watches you with hooded eyes, a small, secretive smile tugging on his lips.

Blearily, you yawn, somehow still exhausted despite how long you slept between yesterday evening and today. Trauma, you suppose, and say nothing at all about it when he helps you sit up in the bed. 

Dinner consists of leftover bannock—the fried dough soft in your mouth, the flavour buttery; smokey—and hare stew. He pulls a chair from the living room into the bedroom, eating on the edge of the bed with you. 

He's sloppy about it. Slurps all the meat and potatoes out of the bowl before sopping chunks of bannock into the gravy, shoveling it into his mouth with a grunt. It dribbles down his chin, and dirties his beard. This slovenly display might have churned your stomach before, but you're just as ravenous. 

And it's good. 

The bread leaves grease stains on your fingers, but the toes on your uninjured foot curl when you bite into the crispy surface, teeth sinking into the pillowy dough below. 

“This is bannock, you said?” You ask, dabbing the napkin he offered with a wink when you finish. At his nod, you continue. “It's good.”

“Aye,” he grunts around a mouthful. “S’the best. Make it every mornin’ so ah go’ fresh bannock tae go.” He swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, slurring out: “s’good wit’ jam.” 

“Did the locals teach you how to make it?”

He nods. “Scottish dish, originally. Made wit’ oats. Drier, too. But—fuck. S’good—nae. Better like this. Ol’ couple taught me when ah first came. Paler ‘n’ shite, they said. ‘n didnae ken a fuckin' thing about surviving oot ‘ere. Big man, Jim, taught me ‘ow tae hunt. Where tae fish. An’ ‘ow to cook it. Made this cabin, aye. He, ah, and his son. Offered ‘er up tae me when they realised ah didnae come wit’ shite all but a bad attitude.” 

“That was nice of them.”

“Most folk up ‘ere are. Quiet, ken? People take care’a ‘emselves, most. Take care’a others, too.” 

You mull over his words as he leans back in the chair with a satisfied groan, legs spread wide. His hands folded over his belly. The picture of ease. Contentment. This freedom of motion makes you slightly envious. 

“An’ wha’ about ye?” His eyes are lidded, leonine, and fixed on you. The intensity is always on the side of too much. Too dizzying. Consuming. 

You stamp it down, running your thumb along the inseam of his gingham throw. “What about me?”

“Why’d ye come here?”

His question throws you off balance. “It’s a pretty park,” you offer with a shallow laugh. “Who wouldn't come here?”

“Lots of pretty parks. Why this one?”

“Dunno. It was—”

“‘ave ye ever been tae any other parks? Anything like this?”

“I hiked a bit, and, um—”

He sucks out a piece of meat from between his teeth. “A bit, aye?” 

“Yeah. A bit. Why—”

“Ye came all the way here fer what? A pretty park? With no experience at all? And alone?”

The shift in his posture reads as angry, irate. You blink, bewildered by this sudden change. 

“Well. It was supposed to be an experience.”

“An experience, aye? Survival skills of a lemming.” 

It's derisive, cutting. You bristle through the sting of humiliation, grappling through the slurry of fatigue to cobble together some form of defence against this lambasting of your—admittedly—ill-thought adventure, but he's already moving on. Fingers tapping an off-rhythm beat against his belly as he levels you with a sober look. More serious than you'd ever seen him before. 

“An’ yer family? They just let ye come here oan yer own?”

The mention of your family makes guilt well to the surface, buoying above the indignant anger at his mocking words. Cowed, you shrug. 

“Sure.” 

Something cracks in the severe mein he carries; fracturing through the blatant disapproval. Cutting it like a knife. 

He sighs through his nose before reaching up and scrubbing his hands over his face. “Shite. Ye really needed me, aye?” 

You blink at the odd choice of words, brows drawing together in a tight knot. It's indefensible, of course. In many ways, he's right. If he hadn't found you—

Well. 

You temper that thought before it forms. You're too out of it, spatially unaware and unmoored, to let yourself fall into an existential pit of despair when you know you won't be able to climb out. Thinking of your assured doom out there, all because of a misstep somewhere along the path, makes dread bloom in the pit of your stomach. Nauseous, roiling. It froths over the basin, ready to spill over and drag you under. 

Swallowing around the surge of panic—mortality a fickle thing in a place like this—you offer a despondent shrug in response. Unable to scrape together any sense of a defence that won't make you sound childish and idiotic. 

You ready yourself for more mockery, having become the very thing the park rangers tried to warn you about when you showed, alone, in hiking boots much too big for you. 

But then he's shifting, expression clearing. The anger folded back behind a quick grin. 

“Pretty here, isn't it?” 

You're not sure what to make of his mercurial temperament; emotions cascading by, quicksilver and sudden. The flashes of anger, intensity, curiosity, and this, all happening within such a short period. It's overwhelming. 

It unsettles you. But—

“Yeah,” you mutter, unable to stem the awe from leaking through. 

The change in conversation is freeing. Sometimes it's just easier to let sleeping dogs lie, and that's exactly what you do. Tucking his odd behaviour behind a plexiglass of indifference, pretending it wasn't there, lurking just out of sight. Something to unravel later, when your heart wasn't on the verge of buckling under the strain of your anxiety. When your chest didn't feel like it was slowly being crushed. Your stomach is all twisted up in knots too tight to untie with your bare hands. 

It's easy to let yourself heave through jittering lungs, and pretend you couldn't feel the rot festering on the sides of them. Eating holes through delicate tissue. 

The majesty of this place hasn't quite worn off, and you use that as an excuse to drift. To close the doors on the overwhelming deluge of hysteria creeping up on you. 

You still think of the jutting fjords instead. The steep ravines, the moose in the distance—her colours sharp against the green backdrop—and let the untempered sense of reverence split you down the middle. 

It comes out in a flood, then—as if you've been biting back the words this whole time. 

You tell him about the valley. The waterfall. The white river. The marmot you saw poking its head out. No bears, you sigh; the forlorn lilt to your tone seeped with a touch of relief, an aspect he pokes at with a crooked smirk until you huff, rolling your eyes to the ceiling at his gentle ribbing. Huffily, you admit that as much as you want to see a bear, you're not quite ready to face them in the wild. 

Lots’a bears ‘round ‘ere, he taunts, rolling his knees out further as he sinks deeper into the chair. 

He dodges your next question of where, exactly, is here with a silky grin and a need tae know rolling off his lips before they tug downward in a sudden frown. 

You must be acclimating to the strange ebb and flow of his emotions because the lour grimace on his face doesn't deter you as much as it did moments ago. You pick up the slack when the conversation lulls, telling him about the places you've been and how they compare to Nahanni.

“They just—don’t.” 

It's hard to encapsulate the scale of it all into simple words; digestible pieces someone else can swallow. The park isn't too far from Yellowknife, and yet it feels like a world on its own. The remoteness, the vastitude of it all, is hard to describe, but Johnny seems to understand. 

He listens with a slight quirk to his lips. A smile you'd almost call fond. He gets it, you know. The words you can't say. The ones that feel too lacklustre when you do. 

“That really why ye came?” 

You hesitate for a moment, looping a loose thread around your finger. Contemplating. Mulling it over. You've never told anyone the reason for the trip outside of a new experience for yourself. Testing your mettle. But with Johnny—

There's a sense of kinship, you find. An understanding. 

“It seemed so—” he waits for you to find the words. “Lonely, I guess.” 

“Lonely,” the way he says the word is ruminative. Rolling it around between his teeth; testing the weight of it. “Ah suppose it is.”

“You don't think so?”

“It's—” he pauses, eyes listing to the side as he mulls over what he wants to convey. 

He does this sometimes, you think. Gets lost. Loses himself. Retreats inward. You can't help but wonder if this is a manifestation of his trauma—a head injury such as this would be classified as a traumatic brain injury, wouldn't it? You're not well-versed in this area, and it feels a little mean, cruel, to have this thought, but it blooms as his eyes fog over. As he struggles, almost, to find the words he wants to say, to give voice to what he feels, thinks. 

“Lonely, aye,” he grinds out after a beat, but he looks frustrated about it, and glares down at his lap, silently fuming. Annoyed. “Big.”

The word is ripped out from between his teeth, and you nod, hastily, to both quell the looming anger brimming in the terse set to his shoulders and to let him know you understand. Can read between the lines—if only just. 

“Is that why you came?” 

The shrug he offers is noncommittal but you can see the tension pooling in his brow despite your efforts to quash it. “Couldnae go home after this—” he lifts his hand, tapping his fingers against the scar tissue on his temple. “Wasn't safe. Had tae give up everything after. Maw. Da. Sisters. Cannae ever see them again.”

It doesn't make sense. None of it does. The innate understanding between you is shattered by the impossibility of this moment, and his half-formed words. What you gave up seems paltry in comparison to what he's confessing to. His family. His whole family—

“Might see them one day. Once that fuckin' prick is in th' ground, but 'til then—” he shrugs again, easy. As if the look on his face wasn't cataclysmic in its anger. It's rage. Sorrow. Hatred. You flinch back as if the blackhole of these awful emotions will eat you alive. 

Johnny sees it, and reaches for you, making soothing noises under his breath as his hand wraps around your thigh. “Ah, doe, don’t worry. He wilnae find us—” 

You're not sure what to say to that, but the grip he has on you is firm. Unyielding. There's a scowl etching over his lips, as if the mere thought of such a thing fills him with disgust, fury, and you shake your head slowly. 

“I'm not—I’m not worried.” You don't know how to tell him that this phantom prick from his past isn't what made you reel back, but the intensity of his wrath. The sudden infliction of his ire. So you don't. You give in with what you hope is a conciliatory smile. “I, uh, I trust you.”

It's loose. Shaky. Your conviction wanes around the edges, falling flat and hollow when it trembles out. If Johnny notices the brittleness around it, he doesn't show it. If anything, he seems to take it as a sudden gospel. 

“D’ye—” There's a crack in his voice. He swallows, then. Adam's apple bobbing harshly against the skin of his throat. You wonder if you've upset him. Angered him. But he's leaning down, eyes widening. Feverish. Blue lagoons. “Ye trust me.”

It's not a question, but he poses it as such. You nod slowly and unsure. 

Johnny ducks his head, then. Lifts one hand to rub at the bristles around his chin and upper lip. Lost in thought, maybe—

It's when he reaches around, scrubbing at the nape of his neck, do you see the flush peeking out from beneath the thick bed of hair covering his cheeks. The sight is jarring. Unexpected. 

You're not sure what to make of it. Of this strange reaction. But it passes almost as quickly as it started. The red is replaced by a wide, blinding grin. He squeezes your thigh. 

“Hah, doe. Ye really know what tae say tae cheer me up—”

You haven't said anything at all, but this, too, goes unacknowledged. And before you can even try to draw attention to it, he breathes in deeply as he sits up in the chair. 

“Ye finished?” He motions to the bowl and plate on the bed. You nod. “Alright. Ah'll put ‘em away. Get ye some tea.”

“Oh, I'm fine—”

“Nah, hen. Tea is good for ye. Will help ye heal.” 

He leaves without another word, carrying away your dirty dishes. The unfinished conversation lingers in the air around you, but beneath the loose strands of everything unsaid, you feel something tangle inside your chest as you replay his words in the back of your head. 

All alone in Nahanni, unable to see his family. You're sure the prick he's referring to is the one who gave him that horrific scar, nearly taking his life. 

Somewhere in the loop, a knot of pity begins to take shape. 

Johnny brings you Labrador tea—a speciality he learned how to make from Ethel and Jim, the couple from Wrigley who took him in. It's good. It tastes sweet, earthy. Honey and pine. You sip at it as he grabs sleep clothes from his dresser, watching him with a muted sense of listlessness. 

You can't imagine the next sixty days that loom before you. Restlessness, claustrophobia—it coalesces into this strange, itchy feeling that sits, uncomfortably, atop your chest; an increasing pressure. You wish you could pick it off like a loose scab. Dig your nail under the hard clot and tug—

Peel it all off until just silken new skin remains. 

Johnny looks antsy when you finish the tea. Eyes bright. Wide. 

As you contemplate the surrealism of your predicament over Labrador tea, he grins like a shark and tells you he only has one toothbrush. 

“Dinnae mind sharin’, doe,” he offers, too jovial, eager, for the notion of lending his toothbrush to a stranger he met less than twenty-four hours ago. Ah ‘ave good hygiene, he adds, as if that might make this any better. 

Putting away the disgust, the idea of sharing a toothbrush feels much too intimate to you. Something befitting a long-term partner, or kin, before a man you know only the bare bones of. 

But like most things lately, what choice do you have? 

Johnny grins brightly at your acquiescence. All teeth. He hands you an old sweater—his favourite football team, he adds with a wink when you blink at it—and then moves toward you with a wicked gleam in his eyes you try to pretend is just overeager hospitality. 

“Wait—” you start, jerking back instinctively as he looms over the bed. “What are you doing?”

A dip forms between his brows, and he cocks his head quizzically at you. “What're ye talkin’ ‘bout, doe? Need'tae brush yer teeth, don't ye?” 

“I—I can walk—”

He snorts. “Oan yer broken ankle? Will only hurt yerself more.” 

Despite the truth in this statement, the flippancy in his voice stings. Prickles under your skin. Your loss of mobility, of being wholly dependent on another person, is a bitter thing to try and swallow. Especially when you're here for the literal antithesis of it. To be free. Self-reliant. 

Not needing anyone at all except the grit in your bones and the determination to see things through. 

Having all of that ripped into pieces in front of you, by a man who says it with such nonchalant disregard—as if your efforts were meaningless, insubstantial for what it got it—is humiliating. 

You can't remember the last time you needed someone for something so simple as walking to the washroom to brush your teeth, to wash up. The loss of this minute freedom makes you want to cry; to break down. Rage. Break things with your bare hands just to show the world you still can. To fight against these shackles locking around your ankles, and run—

Johnny's hand falls on your knee, thumb brushing the torn edge of your tights, grazing the skin beneath the loose threads with each pass. 

“Don't worry. Ah'll take care 'o ye.” 

That's the problem, you think, chest burning. This awful feeling inside is churning. Frothingly acidic, corrosive. You don't want him to. You don't want to need this man at all. Ever. For anything. 

But—

“Thanks,” you choke out. It tastes like iron. Like defeat. 

He carries you to the washroom, cooing the whole time about how ye ‘ave nothin’ tae be embarrassed ‘bout while you blister from mortification, from shame. 

You came here to be self-reliant. To grind your mettle against the wilderness and come out on the other side victorious and better for it. But what you've accomplished so far is getting lost, getting hurt, imposing on a man you barely know—

One who has to sit down on the ledge of the bathtub with you cradled in his lap like a child, injured foot elevated on the lid of the toilet seat. He cups his hand under your mouth as you scrub at your teeth, trying to catch any of the foam from the toothpaste that spills from your mouth. 

It's mortifying. 

You've never felt so vulnerable in your whole life. 

“Sorry,” you choke out around the brush—his brush—as he slowly commanders the weight of you around enough to spit in the sink. 

He waves you off with a noise. “S’alright, doe. Ye can lean oan me all ye like.” 

So he says. But you feel the rapid inhales behind you. The soft pants spilling from his lips, lungs expanding, broadening his chest into your back. Exertion, you think, slightly cowed and humiliated. Desperately trying to hold some of your weight on your uninjured foot. 

“Nah, ah,” he breathes, arm slinking around your middle, tugging you firmly into his lap. “Ye jus’ worry about gettin’ ready tae go tae bed now. Ah got ye.”

He soothes his palm up and down the length of your arm as you finish up in a fruitless effort to calm your nerves, but it doesn't work. Can't. Because you know what's coming next. 

“Can I, um—” your tongue is thick in your mouth. “I need to use the washroom to–to, uh, washup, and stuff—”

His thigh jerks beneath you. When he speaks, his voice is rougher than normal. “Okay.”

But he stays where he is. 

“I think I can do it on my own—”

“And if ye step oan yer leg?” He tuts, arm tightening around you. “Only gonnae hurt yerself more, doe.”

“I'll be careful, but I really have to—” 

“S’okay,” he coos. “S’only me.” 

That's the problem, you think wildly. Hysterical. That's the whole problem, isn't it? 

“No, you don't understand. I need to, um, go.” He makes another noise, soft. Agreeable. Fuck. “I need to pee.” 

It comes out in a hiss. Feral, like a cat. Embarrassment turns you into more animal than man. 

Again, he hums. “I know, doe. Donnae worry, ah’ll hold yer leg.”

“Can't I just keep it, um, on the ledge?” 

“No, no. If ye put weight oan it, doe, ye’ll be in serious trouble. Dislocated. Broken. Jesus, ye cuid slip the bone out of place—”

No. No.

The idea of him holding your ankle as you piss is beyond any measure of shame you've ever felt before. You like your privacy. Crave it, sometimes. You don't think you've ever done this in front of someone since you were a child. 

You need—

A moment.

Time. A pause. 

But he doesn't give you a chance. 

Johnny's other arm loops under your knees, and with a small huff he stands, holding you aloft with an arm anchored across your belly. It's quick. Mercilessly so. He steps back and lifts his foot to toe the lid off the toilet seat, unbothered by the loud clang it makes when it hits the tank. 

“There we go,” he mutters, and sounds almost breathless for it. “Let's get ye ready.” 

It should be awkward. Clumsy. But he moves with a surprising agility that belies the firmness of his muscles, the bulk. He lets your uninjured leg drop to the floor, murmuring for you to put some weight on it as he cradles your shin in his hands, careful not to let your foot move more than it needs to. 

The strange dance ends with him holding your shin in his hands, stretching your thighs out more than they'd ever been before. An image that might have been comical under different circumstances but just makes you flounder at the suggestiveness of the pose. Added, in large part, by the firm hold he has on you. There's not an ounce of give. No threat of falling. 

You gasp when he moves, shuffling backwards to pivot you around until the back of your shin meets the cold porcelain. 

“Alright now, doe,” he motions toward the seat as he slowly bends down to a crouch on the floor, your foot still held in his grasp. 

You follow him down until you meet the seat, trying to avoid his gaze as you clumsily paw at your tattered pants, slipping the down your thighs in a hurry. Your panties follow after a moment of hesitation. 

When his breath catches, you say nothing at all. Pointedly avoid whatever face he might be making as you stare, fixed, at the panels on the wall behind his head. Wallpaper. Probably moisture-resistant. It's peeling in some places. Decades ago, it might have been a soft canary yellow. 

His breathing is shallow. You ball your hands into fists and press the flat of your knuckles against your thighs. 

It's hard to focus when you can feel the scorching heat of his body bleeding into your leg, your knee. Close enough that all he has to do is bend down a little more, and his face would be pressed against your thighs. 

There's no room, no privacy. 

You close your eyes and pretend you can't hear how his breath seems to fill the entirety of the small washroom, ghosting over your skin. Virginia Falls comes to mind—a roaring rush of water—but even in the solitude of your mind, you can't ignore the way his stare drills through your skin. 

You swallow. You can't do it. Can't do this. 

“Can you—” back off, go away. Stop breathing so heavily because you might get the wrong idea, like this whole thing excites him somehow—

His voice is rough when he speaks. Ragged. “Cannae ah what, doe?”

“Turn the tap on? I can't—I can't concentrate.”

“S’only me, bonnie girl,” he murmurs, but does what you ask. Leaning over you, broad torso swallowing you up entirely under his bulk. You can feel the soft give of his belly on your knee as he presses it into you, but it only lasts a second before you meet a wall of solid muscle beneath. He braces a warm, rough palm on your naked thigh, leaning in as he reaches over to the sink above. 

It's barely a fraction of his weight but the drag of it makes you blink in surprise. His skin is burning. Redhot. 

Opening your eyes brings you close to his chest, nose only a hair away from the tanned skin stretched over his collarbones. The metal chain gleams in the flushed light hanging overhead, sitting in a golden contrast to his sunkissed flesh. Its reflection casts beads of glittering lambency over the slope of his neck. 

Pretty, you think, watching as it coruscates in a mesmerising dance each time he moves. 

The faucet turns with a metallic squeak, breaking you from your reverie. Water gurgles up from the pipes, spitting into the basin with a hiss. You pull back, twisting your head to the side as heat floods your chest. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, unable to meet his stare.

His fingers tighten around your flesh. His voice is raw when he mumbles, “anytime.” 

The trickling rush of water reverberates around the room, and it's easy to close your eyes and pretend you're alone.

So that's exactly what you do. 

His palm grows slick on your skin. Damp. But you ignore it, focusing on nothing but the urgency of getting this over with as quickly as you can. It works, marginally—

(Johnny makes another noise in the back of his throat. 

That, too, you ignore.)

“Finished?” His voice is thick, wet. You nod slowly, peeking out from the sliver between your lashes to paw at the wall for the toilet paper roll. “Here, ah’ll help ye out of fer pants—”

Your head feels heavy. Limbs laden. The embarrassment crushes you into a fine powder; malleable, putty. You let Johnny take the lead after. Let him slip your tattered tights down your thighs, and say nothing at all when too much of his palm glides along your skin as he pulls. Needlessly, of course, when just two fingers would do. 

But it's fine. Fine. Maybe he's never taken off tights before. Maybe the material is too thin and he's worried about it catching on the scrapes over your knees, the bandage wrapped up to mid-calf. 

Your shirt, too. When he slips his fingers under the hem, splaying them wide over your belly before dragging them up until it bunches around his wrist. Tugging, tugging. Hands gliding over your skin, fitting along the contours of your body.

He keeps one hand moulded to your neck, fingers brushing your jaw, as he gingerly pulls the shirt over your head. The ragged pants in your ear, the soft groans when you slip into his old shirt—

It's exertion, really. Must be. He's tired from holding you up the whole time you brushed your teeth, washed your face in the sink. It's all fine. He's being gentle. Doesn't want to hurt you.

He's just being nice. 

(And when you notice that your panties are missing from the pile of dirty clothes he shoves into the corner behind the door, that, too, you ignore.)

Exhaustion takes you soon after Johnny tucks you into bed, dragging you under once again. He tells you he'll be on the couch. To holler if you need anything. Sluggishly, you nod. Thank him when he places a glass of water on the bedside table for you. 

(Bite your tongue when he brushes his fingers over your cheek as he bids you goodnight.)

Through the gossamer of sleep, you can hear the floorboards creak in the doorway, but when you look, there's nothing there. Just an empty kitchen. The soft flicker of the fireplace smouldering in the living room. 

Nothing, you think. It's nothing at all—

There's a weight on your chest. 

Warm, searing. It dampens your skin where it sits, heavy, on your breast, cold air ghosting along the sweat building up each time it moves. 

You stir. The pressure takes shape. A hand. A man's hand. Rough, calloused, and hot. In his palm, he holds your breast, thumb brushing along the curve of it. Sliding, sliding—

You come awake with a gasp. 

There's a twinge in your ankle when you move, and the pain grounds you, silences you. His thumb twitches on your nipple, but he, too, stills. Quietens. An impasse. 

And you suppose this would be where you'd scream. Rage. Slap him across the face, rip his hand off your breast. Curse at him for being a creep, and a pervert, and nasty, disgusting man because there's nothing at all that could justify the reason for why the shirt he gave you to wear to bed is tucked up over your chest. The bruising press of something hard digging into your hip negates any excuse he might try to give. This is unmistakable. You should scream, cry, and—

Leave. 

This is what glues your lips together. Keeps you from moving at all, from making a sound. Where would you go? How would you even get there to begin with? 

It's this—the uncertainty, your vulnerability—that paralyzes you. Keeps you still, silent, as his hands brush over your skin, touching, fondling. His palms are rough, calloused. Pyretic. He squeezes, kneading your flesh in his sweat-slicked hand like he's owed the right to touch you. Like he's allowed. 

He pants against your temple, breath warm, humid on your skin. Heaves like a dog in your ear, grunting low as he ruts his hips into your side, smearing something hot, tacky across your skin. Something you try not to think about, to inch away from. But he catches you quick, and stops your meagre protests before they form. 

His thumb and forefinger close over your pebbled nipple, pinching softly at your budded flesh. The shock of pleasure is unwanted. Awful. It churns your stomach, and you fight the urge to weep—

He leans up, ragged exhales growing heavier as he moves until milk-warmed breath shudders over your bare breasts. His excitement throbs against your hip. You swallow down around the sudden wave of disgust, the sickness knotting itself together in your belly. It devours the lingering pity you'd felt earlier. The safety, the comfort, that brimmed inside of you for him. 

(bleeding heart—

he gorges himself on it.)

Stay still, you think. And maybe he'll go away. 

But he doesn't. Of course, he doesn't. 

Johnny leans down, mouth closes over your nipple. It's all searing heat. Wet, soft. A sudden jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine when he sucks in tandem with the soft, rolling pinches he doles out on your tiger nipple, and you hate your treacherous body a little bit more for it. For how good it makes you feel when he flicks his tongue over your hardened peek, laving it sloppily. Messily. Drooling all over you—the big fucking dog—

You wonder how long he's been doing this. Touching you in your sleep. The thought sits like hot oil in your guts; sloshing against the soft lining of your stomach until it aches. Burns. You blame it on that when he grunts against your breast, the vibrations send a shiver down your spine. Have to, don't you? Because the alternative is to admit that you're slick, soft between your thighs already; folds soaked, inner thigh damp. Wet. Blame it on him, and the burden in your chest eases when you feel the stirrings of desire, lust, thicken in your lower belly. Bodily reaction becomes your clutch, your lifeline when he lays his upper body against you, the weight, the heft, of his bulk forcing the air from your lungs. 

Johnny lifts his head suddenly, eyes drilling into yours before you can feign sleep to avoid looking at him. You don't want this. Your body thrums with reluctance, with fear, but you can't drag your gaze away from him. The rapturous look in his eyes, burning in the low simmer of a never-ending twilight, is paralyzing. Electric. You can't remember a time in your life when another person has ever looked at you with such raw want. Desire. Need. It's covetous. Ugly. Marbled with heady streams of hunger, of awe, as if he's not sure whether or not he wants to eat you alive or savour you for aeons. Taking bites, nibbles, when this urge becomes too burdensome to bear; when the ravenous chasm in his guts threatens to devour itself, bones and all, like a man-made black hole. Under this heavy, unrelenting stare you wither. Submit. Your head rolls until your cheek is pressed against the pillow, neck bared. Offered up to him. 

(anything, you think, to run away from the naked want on his face. because with his mouth slack, lips slick, glistening with spit, he looks predatory like this. animal. bathed in gloam and flushed a deep roseate.)

He props himself up on his elbow, watching you. Feasting. Your quiet submission makes him moan; hips juttering at the slow reveal of your vulnerable neck. A paroxysm. As if he just can't help himself to hump against you like a beast in rut. 

He swallows. You watch his throat work from the corner of your eye, Adam's apple bobbing up and down, up and down—

Then:

He lifts himself up higher, angling his body until it's bracketed over you. Sliding between your legs until your slit is pressed against the coarse hair that covers his thighs. He keeps his elbow propped on the pillow, sliding up, up, until his forearm comes to rest beside your face. It boxes you in completely under his weight, and the position forces your legs to spread open to accommodate him. Not given up freely, of course; but your compliance in this is inessential, it seems. He moulds you how he likes, mindful of your injured ankle the whole time. A kindness that makes something molten thicken in your throat, stifling the scream that claws its way up your esophagus. 

You try not to stare when he clambers over you, chest bare against yours. Hips chiselling a gorge between your thighs wide enough for him to fit. To press his fattened length on the insides of your sticky thighs; groins drawing together. Your legs slung loosely around his tapered waist. A dreadful pastiche of lovemaking. Intimacy. 

But even as a mockery—bastardised as it is—it’s embarrassing how easily you open up for him. Legs falling, spreading further apart. Hot, sticky at the apex of your thighs. Wanting. 

Blame it on sleep, on this endless hypnagogia you've been feeling since he leaned over you on the cliff edge, and said, pretty thing, aren't ye? All alone. No’ anymore, doe. Jus’ me an’ ye, now. Jus’ us—

You swallow, fighting the urge to cry. Blinking rapidly against the tears that pebble against your lashline, but you're helpless to stop the flood even though the levee doesn't break, doesn't spill over. It just sits, a sorrowful lagoon with nowhere to go. 

In your attempt to hold back the deluge, you let your gaze wander away from the piercing blue that drills into your face—seemingly unbothered by the tears in your eyes, the ones that clot over your irises, stinging and hot—and stare down at his broad chest. A mistake, maybe, because you catch sight of the gold cross dangling around his neck. Like a pendulum, it swings. The motion is mesmerising. Hypnotic. 

It distracts you for a moment. Or maybe you've just grown accustomed to his touch, to the heat of his hand on your skin. Whatever the reason, it's enough to pull you away from the feverish trail his fingers leave as they make a steady drag downward. It's only when they dance over your belly button do you realise the muted tickle is Johnny, and by then—

“Shush, s’alright, doe,” he's cooing, warm breath ghosting over the plains of your face. It might be comforting if he didn't rest his weight on his elbow, freeing his other hand just to bring it over your mouth, thumb brushing under your eye. A warning maybe. Don't scream. “Ah go’ ye. Ah’ll make ye feel so good—”

There's a fever in his eyes. Wildfires spreading through the yawning boscage, burning everything in sight. The heat is hot enough to char bone; to blacken meat into a dessicated husk. Eating away at everything in its path. 

You know, almost immediately, that Johnny's beyond reason. Or, rather—

He's gone, turned inward; delusional enough to think that this is something he has to do. 

You'd seen all the warnings of the kindling fire before. Something you'd decided to ignore even as the hunger in his eyes surged; as the shape of it morphed into a frothing devotion that felt ill-fitting for two strangers stuck together like this. 

Stupidly, you thought you could outrun it. That he was a good man beneath it all, and wouldn't succumb to touching you in your sleep, to lulling you into a false sense of security—

Except. He hadn't, had he? 

He'd been blunt about it all since the beginning. My wife—

How silly, you thought. 

But the humour fades when he teases over your hips, resting his palm over your mound, middle finger perched above your clit. Just holding. Touching. The possessiveness of the action is unmistakable, unignorable. 

It shouldn't send a shiver down your spine when you'd rather he didn't touch you at all, but it does. There's something about him, you think. Electric. A lightning storm. It crackles in the air around you, humming low in the atmosphere; this unavoidable surge, natural phenomenon. Maybe that's what he is. 

More storm than man. A force you can't outrun, but can only endure—

His eyes flash when he slides his fingers further down your slit and finds your skin soft, hot. Drenched. When he groans your name out, it sounds like a prayer. An orison. 

“So wet, doe,” he's heaving out in a whisper, eyes nearly rolling back into his head as his touch grows bolder, more insistent. As if the softness of your flesh, the wetness that sticks to your inner thighs, is all the consent he needs. “So fuckin’ wet fer me, aye? Been waitin’ fer this, haven't ye?” 

You want to shake your head no but it's futile. He drops his head to look down the chasm between your bodies, watching his hand slide along your skin. Legs spread around his waist, inviting. He curses foul under his breath when he sees how wet his fingers are from just a touch, words mangled in the back of his throat. They sound less coherent as he roams your body, parting your folds and stroking through the slick spilling out of you, dragging it up to your clit. 

His voice is closer now. Lips bruising against the shell of your ear. Butchered English. Gaelic. An amalgamation of low whines, and rasping grunts. He sounds more animal than man. A booming thundercloud groaning above you, as if touching you is enough to please him, too. Siphoning it from your body as he presses his fingers against your clit, circling, stroking. 

It’s good. So good. And that's the problem, you think. It's easy to give in like this when he pets your pussy like the feeling of your fluttering heat on his hand is enough to make him cum. No one has ever touched you like they were starving for it. Needed it as badly as you did. 

The sensation is almost too much. The notion of it getting tangled in the back of your head, looping around the part of you still screaming to run. To go home. To push him away. 

(your arms are laden. your tongue is a puddle of mercury in your mouth—)

But just as the pleasure blooming in your belly raises with each pass of his thumb, he pulls away. Slides down, down—

Circles your hole with the tips of his slick fingers, petting with the same desperation he showed your clit until he deems you soft enough for him. He slowly sinks his finger inside of you to the knuckle, stretching your walls around him as he moans into your ear about how good ye feel around him, all tight. Hot. So fuckin' wet, do. So wet fer me—

He pulls out just as slowly, shushing the soft gasp you make when the ridge of his palm catches on your clit. 

“Ah told ye, didnae ah? Ah’ll take care’a ye.”

He presses two fingers inside of you as he peppers kisses over your cheek, cooing low about how badly you need him. Only him. 

Johnny fucks you slowly on two fingers. Gently. Deeply. Sliding into the last knuckle, petting against your slick walls, like he's owed the privilege and not touching you in your sleep.  

He brings you to the edge, takes you right there, and—

Pulls away. His fingers slide down as your hips flit, lifting to make them catch on your clit again. It's embarrassing how badly you want him to touch you. Shameful. 

He leans up and catches your mouth in a messy kiss. It's all tongue, wet, no finesse. The wild, unkempt tangle of hair abrades your skin, rubbing it raw as he devours you. Scoops out your tongue with his own, enticing it into his mouth. His teeth close on the thick of it, lips pursing. Sucking on the tip. 

His kisses are doglike and obscene. Leaves drool dribbling down your chin, soaking into your neck. He can't seem to decide what he wants to do, so he tries to do it all. Everything. Biting your lips, trying to choke you on his tongue. Slurping up the taste of you until his mouth is stained with it. Beard matted down, drenched. 

Despite it all, he's a good kisser. His pace is fast, breakneck. You can't keep up, but you try. Struggling along as he seems hellbent on eating you alive. But it's sporadic. He pauses just long enough to settle into an easy rhythm that makes you arch into it, silently begging for more as he fucks you on his fingers. Nips your tongue as he slides in a third, swallowing the gasp you let out, savouring your moans between his teeth. 

Johnny ruins you with just a kiss. Leaves you panting, unmoored. Mouth slack, open wide for him to do what he pleases because the taste of him is divine. 

“C’mon,” he urges, spreading his fingers inside of your cunt until you keen, whining his name. “Suck my tongue, bonnie.” 

It's disgusting. You do it, anyway. 

Your quiet acquiescence makes him moan, hips rutting against you. The hard press of his cock into your skin is bruising. It aches. Your inner thighs are tacky with your slick and the smears of pre-cum he leaves behind as he humps against you. 

He sounds mournful when he pulls away, mouth messy with spit, and whispers, “fuck, wish ah could taste ye again, doe—” You don't know what he means until his eyes drop down to his hand, working insistently between your thighs. 

Your stomach drops. Plummets. You thought this started when he was touching your chest, when you woke up to his hand on your breast—

“Ye didnae wake when ah did it before,” he says, as if sounding mournful, sad, over the fact that you didn't wake up to him eating your pussy while you were asleep, was normal. “Must’a had too much tea—”

You wish, so suddenly, so viciously, that he'd stop talking. You can't hear this. Can't bear to listen to him confess to all the needling worries that bloomed in the back of your head, ones you stamped down with a heavy foot and a potent sense of guilt, shame, for condemning a man who was just trying to help. 

It makes you want to cry. 

“Oh, doe, don't cry—” he coos the words out, contrite and conciliatory, but you can feel the way his cock twitches against your thigh. The unmistakable heat mushrooming in his eyes as the sight of tears streaming down your face. 

He seems to take it as misery over not feeling his mouth on your cunt, a plaintive assertion he whispers into your ear (poor thing, jus’ wannae feel ma mouth on you, aye? wannae feel me lick yer sweet pussy again?), and decides to rectify your sorrow by kissing his way down your body. 

His fingers slip out when he moves, resting them on your knee as he kneels back on his haunches. 

You spare a glance toward him, nervous with trepidation, and—

This whole time, his cock had been this phantom sensation against your skin, bruising and hot. Leaving wet smears over your thighs. Hidden from view. But like this, it's the first thing you see as it hangs, heavy and thick, from between his thighs. 

The sight is—

Something. 

You don't want to think about the heat in your belly. The nervous flit of your heartbeat. 

A pearlescent strand dribbles down the weeping, slick head, dropping to the sheets below. The shaft of his cock is similarly drenched, smeared with what seems like a copious amount of precum. It gathers at the base, a startling contrast of thick, black hair and globs of milky white. 

Something about it makes you recoil. Almost instinctively, primal. 

Your flinch just makes his cock twitch, spitting more out. 

The motion seems to unveil more of it to you, adding to the growing unease you feel because his cock is the furthest thing from pretty. 

It's flushed a daunting vermillion and purpling like a bruise around the engorged glands. Thickening at the base. Streaked with dark veins that run the length of it, like rivers intersecting and jutting up from his skin. Blotches of red, pink, purple, and peach make up the colouring of it. Marbled like a black eye. A busted lip. 

It bobs when he moves. Ugly, garish. You don't want it anywhere near you—

But Johnny’s wet hand on your knee keeps you from moving. Holds you in place as he bends down, resting on elbow to bring his face as close to your pussy as he can get. 

Johnny stares—unabashedly—at your bare cunt when he finally settles between your thighs, widening them further to fit the broad stretch of his shoulders. Eyes lit with a heady greed, a hunger, that knocks the air from your lungs. 

“Missed ma mouth, didnae ye?” 

For a moment, you think he's talking to you. Confusion colours the panic you feel, dampening the dread down until it's flattened by sheer bewilderment when you realise his eyes haven't left your slit. 

“Such a bonnie girl,” he purrs, breath ghosting over your cunt. “Been so lonely without me, aye? Poor thing.”

It heats you up from the inside out. The mesmerised, almost unfettered look of pure adoration shaded alongside the raw want on his face twists a sense of desire inside of you. Has anyone looked at you with such naked need on their face? As if the idea of not having a taste was somehow the most agonising thing they could experience? The way Johnny looks at you is enough to make you ache. And with anyone else, having him address your pussy instead of you would be awkward, humiliating, but somehow, him doing it makes you burn white-hot. Makes you want—

“Johnny,” you whisper, paper-thin, and his head shoots up, brows inching high on his brow. You're acutely aware that this is the first thing you've said since this started. Since you woke up to him groping you, touching you, in your sleep. And it's his name. Johnny. 

Not no, don't. Stop. Please. Just—

“Johnny.”

It's not consent. You're not sure you're fully capable of doing so right now, if ever. But it's the closest you think you could come to saying yes. Admitting that you want his mouth on you, even though the situation leading up to this still makes something ugly and awful twist in your guts, is as much as you can give. He seems to see this. To know. 

But Johnny takes it between his teeth as an unequivocal yes despite that, groaning low in his throat, midnight eyes rolling back into his head. The hands on you tremble. Shake. 

He breathes in deeply through his nose, the sound whistling as a great plume of air is forced through small channels, filling his lungs. Perfuming them with the heady scent of you, of sex, clotting in the air. 

“Fuck, doe. Gonnae give ye what ye need.” 

And then he bends his head, eyes lidded still, half rolled, and without any preamble, glues his lips to your drenched slit, forcing it between your soft folds. 

The first touch of his tongue is molten. Soft, tensile, he laves it over the whole of your slit from the sensitive skin beneath your hole, to the crest of your clit. Digs his tongue in, swirling it over and under your folds leaving no part of you untouched. Feasting. Devouring. 

It makes you mewl. Your back arches off the sheets, ankle throbbing in a heady, pulsing pain at the sudden movement, adding to the shrill whine in your voice. 

He notices, and pets your knee once before sliding his bicep under your leg, looping his hand around to secure your thigh in the crook of his below. Locked in tight. Immoveable. The other he pushes down with the flat of his palm, until your joints ache from the stretch. Your knee is almost flush with the mattress. Widening you further for his searing, eager mouth. 

If his kisses are dogish—wet, messy; sloppy with drool—then the way he eats your cunt is foul. Slobbering down his chin, slurping up the mess he makes with a series of chewed-off moans and muffled whines. He paws at you as if he was denied the pleasure of drink for aeons, feasting like a man half-delirious and starved. There's no finesse. No skill to speak of. Just a desperate man lapping at you like a beast. Worshipping you. 

He nuzzles his chin and cheeks against your cunt, drenching himself until his beard is matted to his skin. The feeling of his coarse hair grazing your sensitive flesh is overwhelming. Too much. Too ticklish. But—

It feels good. 

The contrast of his fleshy tongue rolling over your clit, and the rough brush of his hair when he nuzzles you with the point of his chin, cooing softly about how pretty this little pussy is, getting him all wet, is cataclysmic. The heat floods your belly, and you clench around nothing. Achingly empty. Moaning at the feeling of him bringing you right there, right to the brink, with nothing by the hair on his cheek. It's unreal. Inescapable. Your head drops, mouth lax, open wide as you pant and whimper through the madness of Johnny MacTavish trying to find a way to suck your clit and fuck you with his tongue at the same time. An impossible goal, you know, but he doesn't seem to care about logic or reason with his head buried between your thighs, mouth never leaving you once. He merely nods his head up and down, refusing to pull away.

It's divine. It's worship. It's—

He pushes two of his fingers inside of you, lapping at your taut rim to stem the sting of his sudden intrusion, and you think, for a moment, that you see Nirvana behind your eyelids. 

It's embarrassingly how quickly he brings to you the brink, slurping messily as he drills his fingers into your hole, petting against your walls in a mockery of what he'll do to you once he's had his fill. Satiated his hunger with the taste of your pussy. 

Something he can't seem to get enough of.

Your thighs draw together, crushing him between your legs. Arching into his mouth, nearly smothering him as you rut clumsily against his face, moaning at the rough scrape of his beard against your skin. You're not normally so aggressive, but he loses himself in it, eyes rolling as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to his wanting mouth, encouraging you to use his tongue, his lips, to meet your end as you see fit. Riding his face as much as you can with your leg locked tight between his shoulder and bicep. 

And it's in between his loud grunts, his whines—almost caterwauling into your slit—where you shatter. The sound of his pleasure, the feeling of his mouth on you—it’s all too much. You break when he sucks your clit into his mouth, keening in the back of his throat as he works another finger into you. It feels good. Too good. 

Johnny works you through it. Lets you take, and take as your muscles spasm with the force of your release. Fingers digging into his shoulders, fisting the sheets. He moans along with you, eagerly lapping at your cunt until you whine, begging him to stop. You've had enough. Can't take anymore—

He only pulls away when you melt into the sheets, shuddering with the aftershocks bubbling through your body. Leaning back on his haunches once more, the hair around his mouth slick and wet. The evidence of your pleasure dripping down his chin, droplets still clinging to his beard.

He crawls over you once more, eyes boring into yours. Pits of coal. An endless black hole.

In this strange space, liminal, you lose yourself. Shed pieces of who you were before when he slots his hips between your thighs, cock heavy in his hand, and presses it to your slit. 

This is happening. He's going to fuck you. 

You wish the thought didn't make your knees fall apart a little wider for him. Make your hips flit, lifting slightly into the air. Eager. Hungry for it. For him.

It's loneliness, you think. Desperation. 

Madness is addictive. It feeds itself and infects those around it. Noxious. An all-consuming black hole that eats, and eats. It must have bitten you, too. Dug infectious teeth into your skin, severing flesh to imbed its jowls in your marrow. Clinging. Poisoning you from the inside out. 

There's no other reason for why you reach for him, hands sliding over his sweat-slicked skin as he falls into the open brackets of your arms, grunting when the head of his cock catches on your rim. He's a wall of heat. Firm muscles. Your nails dig into the thick cords of his shoulders just to feel the reluctant give of his skin. 

Nothing about this man is soft. His waist, his thighs, his chest, his arms, the hard ridge of his cock. It's all unyielding muscle. Burning. Searing into your skin when it drags against his. 

“Gonnae fuck ye, doe,” he whispers, words pitching low. Damp wood, felled timber. Rough. You shiver from the heat of it. The warning, the plea; both extremes coalescing together to make truism more potent. Weighty. “Gonnae fuck this pretty pussy, and yer gonnae beg me fer it.” 

Despite the surety in assertion, he doesn't wait for you to plead with him to split you apart, taking the initiative instead to sink the head of his cock into you. The stretch stings already, and only his glands have sunk in, a fact he grunts into your ear as he drives forward another inch. Another—

You don't think you've ever been this unmoored before. Rendered this docile. A mere domicile for him to burrow inside of; to carve a home from the sanctum of your walls wrapped tight around him. And carve he does. Splitting you apart as he grunts with the efforting of forcing his cock into you, feeding it further with blunt jerks of his hips, his hands feverish on your skin. Sweat slicked already even though he's barely halfway inside of you. 

“Feels so good,” he slurs into your ear, face pinching. Twisting up as pleasure blooms over his brow. “So fuckin’ good, doe, fuck—”

It does. Beyond the blunt pressure of him forcing his cock inside of you, the sting of the stretch, there's an intense, dizzying pleasure in the fullness you feel. In the press of him notching against something inside that makes heat bloom in your belly, turns your bones liquid. It might be the previous climax rendering you oversensitive, but the feeling of him splitting you apart is euphoric. 

It's aided by the moans he lets out as you take more and more of him, as if the sound of his pleasure is funnelled into yours. By the look on his face, eyes widened, feverish, as he darts his gaze between your face and your pussy, unable to decide if he wants to watch his cock disappear into you or watch your face, pinched up in pleasure, in flickering pain, as you take him fully. 

This sort of bliss, this pleasure, is addicting. Narrowed down to the sharp nudge of his cock grazing places inside of you that light your nerves on fire, burn through your synapses until your thoughts are muddled, mush. No coherency, no logic—just the fat length of him bludgeoning into your walls; the tap of his heavy, full sack slapping against your ass as he finally, finally, roots deep.

He must feel it, too. This strange, overwhelming pleasure loops around your lower belly, twisting itself into knots because when he pushes the last few inches inside of you, he nearly collapses on top of you, his whole body shuddering. Trembling. Presses his damp face to your cheek, matted, slick hair tickling your skin, and groans from deep within his chest at the feeling of you wrapped around him. The noise shivers through you. His pleasure is enough to make you clench down, tightening up around him. Already on the verge and all he did was slide his cock inside of you. 

A fact he seems to luxuriate in, huffing shakily into your ear as he quenches himself on the soft, fluttering pulses of your walls around him. Content to grind his hips into yours in shallow gyrations that make your eyes roll into the back of your head. The tension in your belly coiling tighter and tighter, the pleasure ameliorating the shame you'd felt before, burning it into cinders. 

As long as he keeps his cock inside of you, as long as he keeps pushing the blunt head into that spot that makes your vision whiteout, you think could cum just like this. Right now—

He doesn't. 

Johnny lifts himself off of your chest, elbow coming to rest beside your head, taking the brunt of his weight. His eyes are bright, burning. He stares down at you, and the look of sheer adoration on his face is daunting, overwhelming. It threatens to eat you alive. Devour you whole. Pure rapture. Devotion. 

You flush, face stinging with embarrassment. Prickling with unease. No one has ever stared at you like this, so hungrily, and the fact that it's him makes your head spin. Looping endlessly in circles of disbelief and fear. 

He might be omnipotent, you think, with the way his lips tug sharply downward, brow bunching together as if he can hear your thoughts, taste your disquiet in the air. 

Johnny rolls his hips back slowly, inching out of you with a hum until just the tip remains. The loss has your hands scrambling down his chest, fingers tangling in the coarse, drenched hairs at the soft incline of his belly. The other sliding around the thick breadth of his ribs, nails digging into the slick skin covering his spine. Pressing. Biting. 

More, you don't say. Please. 

The knot in his brow dissipates. Eases into something almost playful, impish. 

“Want ma cock, doe?” He whispers it waggishly, like a cloy secret, and you pretend the tease in his voice doesn't make your heart lurch in your chest. “Didnae anyone teach ye some manners? Gotta ask politely.” 

You won't. You won't. 

Your reluctance makes him sigh. The chain around his neck swinging when he moves. His hips pull back, and he reaches down with his free hand, and grabs his cock, pulling it out of you, and sliding it against your slit. The head bumps into your clit, and you nearly choke on the gasp that's ripped from your chest. The pleasure is too much, too—

He pulls away, denying you the euphoria of release. 

“No, no, please,” you babble, resolve crumbling into ash. “Please, Johnny, please—”

“That’s more like it,” he coos, and lets his cock dip back inside of your fluttering hole, rim stretched taut around him once more. The sting is lessened now, but still there as the thick glands force you open for him. “Sound so pretty when yer desperate for ma cock.” 

He leans down, catching your mouth in another sloppy kiss as he slams his cock back inside of you hard enough to bruise. To make you see stars. Cockhead bludgeoning into your cervix in a dizzying amalgamation of pleasure and pain that makes you whine, the whimper snatched up between his teeth as he burrows them into your lip with an echoing groan. 

He fucks you hard, working his cock into you at a maddening pace. Bestial, now. All animal. The tenderness from before dissolves into an choppy desperation. An eagerness to seek his own end as you fall to pieces beneath him, shaking from the force of taking him over and over again, each piston, each hard thrust driving the thoughts from your head until all you have left is sensation. An absence of everything except the way he feels above you, inside of you. 

Sweat builds up along your hairline, gathers at the base of your spine, and soaks the sheets below. You feel liquid under him. A ragdoll for him to sink his jowls into, to toss around as he likes. 

Johnny is all sensation and a cacophony of sound. 

He ruts into you clumsily, groaning in your ear. Moaning out how good you feel around him. Pretty pussy made just for him. 

“Oh, fuck, doe—” he moans, arching into the next thrust. Drool dribbles down his chin when he curves his spine, dropping his forehead onto your temple. “Feels so good. Feels like my cock is meltin’ instead ye—”

The lewd squelch of his cock pistoning into you seems to echo through the room, louder somehow than the ragged moans that spill from his mouth. 

“Been so long,” he shudders against you, rooting his cock deep. Burying himself inside of you as his cockhead bullies into your cervix. The flash of pain is whitehot, blinding, but the bloom of pleasure eats it whole before it can pollute the puddle of bliss pooling in your belly. “Been savin’ it all jus’ fer ye—”

His hand slides from your hip, burrowing between your bodies as rubs at your clit. It feels so good that it nips sharply into pain, into agony. Too much, too much—

But he doesn't relent. Fingers toying, circling your clit in time with each jarring thrust, tightening the coil inside of you until it whines from the tension, the pressure—

It snaps when he growls into your ear—cum fer me, doe; wannae feel this pussy squeezin’ ma cock—and releases in a flood, a deluge of molten heat. Back arching, toes curling. You're barely cognisant of the ache in your injured foot, the throbbing pain. It's swallowed by the surge of endorphins roaring through you, ringing in your ears. Blotting everything out except the way you pulse around the thick of him still lodged deep inside of you. 

You barely have time to come down before he starts again, forcing you to take him as he thrusts in harder than before, mindlessly seeking his own end as you gush around him, nails raking across his flesh. 

He's babbling above you, spitting words into your ear about how he's going to take care of you. All of you. Take you back to Scotland with him so you can raise your children—

It slices through the haze, ripping a hole through the fog clouding your mind. 

“No,” you whimper, devastation flooding your chest alongside the vicious pleasure still rolling around inside of you. “No, please—”

Children, he breathes like you hadn't spoken at all. Lots. Lots of them. Brothers and sisters. Two, maybe three, of each. But he's not picky, bonnie, he'll take whatever you give him. And keep fucking you over and over again until he gets what he wants. A whole family to raise. To surround himself with. Been lonely, you think he says. Needed something to keep him busy. 

You don't want this. Can't. But he doesn't stop, doesn't relent. He breathes life into the picture he paints with the soft flutter of your cunt clenching tight around him at words, once again betrayed by your own body. 

Despite the nausea that bleeds to the surface at his words, your eyes roll back into your head once more, driven mad with the thunderous pleasure that rips through you as he forces every last inch of his cock into you. 

Johnny grinds his hips against yours, moaning, loud and untethered, muscles jerking, twitching, as he cums deep inside of you. 

The aftershocks of his pleasure make him tremble, body spasming as he drives himself tight against the seal of your womb. A new heat grows inside of you as Johnny slumps against you, panting in your ear. 

“Ah’ll be so good tae ya,” he promises in a rasping growl, shoving his head into the crook of your neck. Gyves close around you as he nuzzles his mouth into your flesh, licking at the sweat that beads on your skin. 

“All mine. All fuckin’ mine—” The confessional is tainted with the sickness that leaks from the craggy hole chiselled into the side of his head. Obsessive devotion hewing ruinous dogma into the fibrils of your head. Tenderised, softened, by the blunt, unyielding touch of his hand. A slurry that this polluted notion slips inside, tainting your resolve until it's thickened into his whim. His wants. 

You sob into his chest as he wraps you up in his arms, shackled against the man who carved a place inside of you just wide enough for himself to fit. Who spat poison in the hollow crevasses, and called it absolution. Love. 

All you can do is heave through corrupted lungs as he smothers you under the weight of his madness. 

“No’ gonnae let anyone touch ye. Ah'll kill anyone who tries to tae take ye away from me, doe—”

The conviction in his tone is bound in steel. In feverish blue. 

“Ah’ll take care’a ye,” he rasps, voice thick in his throat. “Donnae worry about a thing, doe.”

“Will you let me go?”

He doesn't answer at first. Just digs his nose into your hairline, breathing in deep until the wide breadth of his chest expands across your back. Mulling it over, maybe. Coming up with an excuse for his behaviour. Something to negotiate with on reasons why you shouldn't call the police the moment he does. 

And for a moment, a startling, terrible moment, there's hope. The assurance wells on your tongue. Some unfathomable amalgamation of please and i’ll never tell. Maybe you were going to tell him he was an honest man who did something bad. That there was still good within him. All of those hideous clichès bubble up through the cracks—

But it's all dashed when his hand drops down from its perch beneath your bare breasts, sliding over your skin until it curls possessively over your lower belly. 

He breathes out and the hope inside you is snuffed under the gale of delusion, his obsession. “Why would ah do a thing like that?” He prompts, and the genuine confusion in his voice makes you shiver, as if the idea of it is so outlandish, so absurd, it negates everything he'd done to get to this point. You feel hollow. But not—

Not empty. 

As if he hears the thought thundering in the ruins of your mind, he presses a tender kiss to your temple that you think is meant to be soothing. Shushing you softly when you begin to shake. “After it took me this long to find ye, doe. Am no’ lettin’ ye go fer the world, ken. Yer mine. All mine.”

And then he closes his jowls around your throat. 

Time feels artificial here. 

You wake up several hours later, groggy and disoriented, but the sun doesn't seem like it moved from where it was perched last night at all. Fixed in place. Lost in some strange, eternal twilight zone where the sun is a warden, watching you tirelessly through the window. 

Cardboard cutout hung amongst the stars.

Your ankle aches horribly—an agonising throb. You must have turned in your sleep, jostled it. You're further away from the spot you were last night, too. Rolled over in your sleep, maybe. The burn brings tears to your eyes that you swallow down with a groan. 

As you awkwardly settle your leg in a way that hurts slightly less than it did before, you let cognisance slip back in to keep your mind off of the horrible ache that tremors through your bones. Your neck. 

Between your thighs—

It's then that you hear Johnny. 

He's whistling in the kitchen. You peer out through the crack in the door, catching the broad expanse of his naked back as he works over the stove. Flexing. Muscles bunching. He hums a tune you can't recognise as he scrapes the spatula over the cast iron pan. 

His grey sweats sit low on his hips. The divots above the hem—dimples of Apollo, you recall—are stark against the hollow ravine of his spine. You can't help but stare. Gawk. Limned in the soft light of the morning sun that spills through the open window, he looks almost ethereal. Unreal. Like something out of a magazine and not the middle of nowhere in Canada where the sun doesn't set this time of year. 

He feels surreal. A man too good to be true. All sculpted musculature that looks like it could just as well be handmade by an amalgamation of both David’s by Michelangelo and Gian Lorenzo Bernini. All sharp, angled lines; beautiful in their fluidity. 

It's unfair, you think suddenly. To be stuck with a man you feel nauseous thinking about but can’t seem to take your eyes off of. Some paradoxical madness. Retribution for a time in a past life where you swindled fate and got away unscathed. All of your karmic sins pile down on top of you as the events last night flicker past, drenched in seafoam. Ghosts linger in the cracks; in memories. 

The phantom weight of something slung over your waist, knotted tight between your breasts. Scorching heat glued to your spine. A heavy hand cradling your lower belly. Words whispered into your nape—

He turns, then. Catches your eye like he knew it was there the whole time. Stands there like the picture of ease, of a satiated man puttering around a small space while his sweetheart lounged in the bed, lazing the day away. 

Like this wasn’t illegal. Immoral. He treats you like a lover even though you’d only met less than a day ago—

And already his cum was drying on your inner thighs, thick and sticky. His madness pooling in your head, words uttered into your ear about this cabin he has back home, back in Scotland. He’ll take you there, he said. It’s time he came home, he thinks. His head is on straight again, and he finally feels like he can breathe without shattering into a million pieces—

(He put your hands on his head last night, palm cradling the ugly scar on his temple, and whispered, fervent and insane, ye keep ma head together, doe. Ye make me feel whole again—)

Knows a man, he told you. A good bloke who’d help him get you home, too. 

His smile is bright. Blinding.

“Mornin’, doe. Ah made breakfast.” 

[gremlingottoosilly]

thinking about konig asking to eat you out and you being like “lol no i’m on my period.” and he’s all “ohhhh idc idc i wanna eat it so bad 🥺” and you need to be like no. buddy. you clearly do not get it. i am not a 2-3 day period, “who needs pads i’ll just freebleed” girlie. i am a 7-8 day, heavy flow, bleed through the pad girlie, lmfao.

and then he eats it anyways because not only has he been around so much more blood than you could ever imagine but also he’s lowkey highkey into it teeeheeeeeeee ;P

"Schatzen, I kill people for money. You really think I'm scared of a little blood?" You wasn't nervous of the fact he wasn't scared of a bit of blood - even though it was not, in fact, just a little. Even though it was, in fact, a lot and made you ask him to bring you newer pads. You didn't really think he would be scared of a bit of period blood - but you were fucking terrified at the fact that he seemed to adore it. To cherish every drop, till the last one - to press his face between your thighs and look at you like a kitten who wants a bit of cream. The thing is, Konig missed you. Returning from a two month contract only meant he was ready to destroy your pelvis and fuck you for every hour he is on leave - unfortunately, he can't quite do that, you're too fragile to take his cock four times per day...but you can take his tongue. Even if that means having the metallic taste cling to his tongue for days on end, he would gladly spend the whole week buried in your cunt, relishing in your taste. It's a nice way to deal with cramps, he might think. Konig literally read one article about how orgasms can sometimes help some people with their cramps, and he'd use this for the rest of his life. Oh, your stomach is hurting and you feel like your womb is trying to eat you from the inside? Just let him eat you out! No matter how many times you push him away and beg for him to stop, he'd still laugh and push his tongue deeper, over and over. He is a mercenary, he is getting paid tons of money to cover himself in blood of his victims - having his pretty girlfriend cry and cum on his tongue is a nice addition. You don't even question it when he starts to track your periods, knowing you'd have it even when you forget - you don't question the dates he literally keeps posted on your shared calendar, don't care that the amount of heating pads in the house had largely diminished - and he won't buy you a new one because he is much better at being a heating pad anyway!

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!