Afterglow

"You lasted longer than I thought you would," she says between breaths, and even now—completely fucked out, thighs still trembling—she's got that fucking pleased little smirk on her face.

You don't have the energy to respond, just managing to flip her the bird while you stare at the ceiling, pulse still racing.

There are scratches down your back that sting when you shift position, her nails having carved you up badly when you'd finally pinned her against the mattress.

The sheets are ruined—no saving them. Not with the mix of sweat, cum, and whatever's left of Yujin's makeup smeared across the fabric. She's sprawled beside you, chest still heaving, her hair a complete disaster fanned across the pillow. Her sundress is crumpled by the door, one strap torn clean off.

Yujin rolls onto her side to face you, and you can see the aftermath of everything that just happened all over her body. Her lipstick is smeared from her mouth to her jaw, dark bruises already forming on her neck and collarbones. Cum is still leaking from between her thighs, making a mess on skin that's flushed and marked with your fingerprints.

"Worth it though, right?" She traces a finger down your chest, lazy and satisfied, like she's admiring her handiwork.

"You're impossible," you finally manage.

"You love it."

She's not wrong.

~~~

Six hours earlier, you'd been stupid enough to think this would be a normal date.

Yujin had texted you that morning with a deceptively simple message.

pick me up at 2 ❤️

You’d thought—fine, easy. Lunch, maybe walk around, watch the sunset over dinner. Standard relationship stuff. You should've known better the second you pulled up and saw what she was wearing.

The sundress is light blue, thin cotton that does absolutely nothing to hide the fact she's not wearing a bra. It hugs her waist before flowing down to mid-thigh, and when she bounces over to the car, you can see everything move in ways that make it very clear she planned this outfit specifically to fuck with you.

It's working.

"Hi baby," she says sweetly, sliding into the passenger seat and leaning over to kiss your cheek. Innocent enough, except her hand lands directly on your thigh and stays there while she buckles her seatbelt.

"You're evil," you tell her.

"I'm adorable." She grins, adjusting the dress that's already riding up her thighs. "Where are we going?"

"That café you wanted to try."

The drive is only ten minutes, but Yujin makes it feel like an hour. Her hand doesn't leave your thigh, fingers tracing lazy patterns while she chatters about her week. Every time you glance over, she's doing something designed to distract you—adjusting her hair so the dress pulls tighter across her chest, crossing and uncrossing her legs, biting her bottom lip while she looks out the window.

At the café, she orders an iced vanilla latte and immediately wraps her lips around the straw in a way that's just absolutely not necessary for drinking coffee.

You watch her take a slow sip, eyes locked on yours.

"What?" she asks, like she doesn't know exactly what she's doing.

"Nothing," you mutter, taking a drink of your own coffee and trying to focus on literally anything else.

She leans forward on her elbows, and the neckline of her dress dips low enough that you can see the curve of her tits. "You seem tense."

"I'm fine."

"Mm." She doesn't believe you, and that little smirk says she knows exactly why you're tense.

You finish your coffees and decide to walk through the nearby park since the weather's nice and you're clearly a masochist. Yujin loops her arm through yours, pressing close enough that you can feel the heat of her body through that thin dress.

"Isn't this romantic?" she says, full of fake innocence as her free hand traces up your arm.

"Very," you say flatly.

She's already sliding that hand down, lacing her fingers with yours, bringing your joined hands to rest at her hip where the dress cinches.

The park is busier than you expected—couples on blankets, families with kids, people walking dogs. Yujin doesn't seem to care. She steers you toward a quieter path lined with trees, and the second you're out of immediate sight, she stops and turns to face you.

"I want a picture," she announces, already pulling out her phone.

"You take like fifty pictures a day."

"And I'm going to take fifty-one." She steps close, arm around your waist, phone up for a selfie. You're about to smile when her ass presses back against your crotch—a deliberate roll of her hips.

You grab her waist on reflex.

The camera clicks.

Wow. That is not a graceful expression.

"Perfect," she says, grinning at the photo before tucking the phone away.

She doesn't move away from you. You don't let go of her waist. She leans her head back against your shoulder.

"You're being very well-behaved so far."

"I'm being patient."

"And how long do you think that'll last?" She turns in your arms, and suddenly you're face to face with her, close enough to kiss. Her hands slide up your chest, fingers playing with the collar of your shirt. You can smell her perfume, feel her breath against your mouth.

"Yujin—"

"What?" Those big, innocent eyes blink at you, like she's never done a thing wrong her entire life. Her thigh presses between your legs, just enough pressure to make her point. "We're just taking pictures, baby."

Someone walks past on the main path and you step back, mostly to maintain some semblance of dignity in public. Yujin just laughs, bright and delighted, before grabbing your hand and pulling you back toward the park exit.

"Come on, I want to look at the shops before dinner."

The boutique she drags you into is small, full of expensive clothes and a bored-looking attendant who barely glances up when you enter. Yujin immediately starts browsing through racks, pulling out dresses and holding them up against her body.

"What do you think of this one?" A black one that would barely cover her ass.