ROYALTY

There's something so cathartic about watching royalty fall from grace.

You and Winter had the pleasure of breaking in Her Majesty Wonyoung just last week—a wondrous memory you’ll probably treasure for some dramatic temporal hyperbole. It truly was a momentous event, though: this meticulously orchestrated seduction that felt like the pair of you were defiling some ancient place of worship. And though she was every bit the freak you suspected she was beneath the couture and the poise, even in her most wanton moments, Jang Wonyoung maintained at the very least some semblance of her regal air.

Which is what makes it so very gratifying that An Yujin has decidedly not:

“Yes! Please! Right fucking—Oh my God—Right fucking there, Minjeong.”

It’s just another lovely weekend for you and your girlfriend, your mutual sexcapade having bore some particularly luscious fruits this time around: An Yujin, the people’s princess, as you like to call her, coming completely and utterly undone in front of you. Winter has a pair of her fingers pistoning in and out of Yujin’s tight cunt—sweet, slick sounds erupting from the incessant union. 

Coming into this, you’d expected a certain performative resistance—something akin to the brat act at the very least. An Yujin of all idols: this powerhouse of charisma and charm—you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who wouldn’t think she’d be a hard nut to crack. She owns every room, every camera flash, every breathless cheer from the head-over-heels fans. At least, that’s the public script—the one you studied. But here, it seems, in the private, sweat-slicked “comfort” of you and Winter, that script is ash. She’s pliant, desperate, a masterpiece of submission. And it’s Winter—your Winter, who blushes when you compliment her, who squeals your name in bed—who is orchestrating her ruin. She’s the one with the fire in her eyes, the bite to match the bark, fingers working till all Yujin sees are stars and all she can remember is this pleasure.

Seems she’s halfway there already.

“Don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop,” Yujin gasps, timbre a far-cry from the usual husk. “Feels—oh my God—feels too good, Minjeong, your fingers—fuck—” Her own fingers scramble at the sheets, twisting the fabric into similar ruin. 

Winter never ceases her thrusting, but dips her head, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses to the quivering skin of Yujin’s inner thigh. She leaves a trail of them: constellations of devotion and possession along that smooth, toned expanse. Marks as if to say: mine, I did this, I conquered her. 

It’s a damning sight, really, that you never let this dominant side of Winter out into your one-on-one sessions, because you’d be lying if you said the way she takes charge doesn’t turn the ever-loving fuck out of you. You’re simply enamoured with the way she treats her: not a single inch of that perfect pussy going untouched as her mouth moves to engulf that pretty clit. The reversal is dizzying. The shy girl is the general; the superstar is the yielding territory. It throws you so far off-balance you have to grip Yujin’s hip just to remember your own role in this.

You yourself aren’t exactly twiddling your thumbs, dick forever imprinting itself into the shape of Yujin’s asshole. You’re practically mesmerised—this time by the way she looks with your dick disappearing into her, the way she pursues that senseless endeavour to keep her moans in check, the way she—God—she really is just stupid pretty. And now, she’s got her head thrown against the bed, back and neck arching as your joint assault with Winter keeps her quite literally on her toes.

And if her body wasn’t making it clear just how good she was feeling, then her voice most certainly is:

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck,” she repeats over and over and over again, eyes glued shut as she revels in the symphony of pleasure the pair of you have composed just for her. 

“You make my ass feel so fucking full—,” she directs at you first, prompting you to fuck her just that little bit harder, “—Your fingers are so perfect for my pussy,” she continues for Winter who curls just that little bit tighter, “—You’re gonna make me cum,” she finishes for the both of you, and the statement becomes prophecy:

 “You’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard.”

It takes you a bit by surprise, honestly, just how absolutely fucking filthy Yujin is. It’s not like she’s been spurred on by dirty talk from you or Winter, either—no demands for her to beg or “tell us how good you feel”. You wonder whether the fucking is just that good—a transcendent experience that shatters her normal vocabulary, or, like Wonyoung before her, An Yujin is just another sex-crazed freak hiding in plain site, waiting for the right combination of your dick and Winter’s mouth to bring out her true nature. You decide, with a surge of possessive pride, that it’s probably a wicked, perfect combination of both.

And seeing her so utterly lost in the feeling, so beautifully debauched, sparks a reciprocal need in you to affirm her. You lean forward, your voice competing with the sound of your own body meeting hers. "That's it, Yujin. Such a good girl for us. Taking us so well." 

Minjeong pulls back for a breath, her chin glistening, and adds her own praise—tone softer, but no less intense. "You're so beautiful like this, Yujin. Perfect. Absolutely perfect." The praise seems to get to her, moans pitching ever higher.

You lock eyes with Winter over Yujin’s trembling body, a silent, wicked agreement passing between you. You both know the game.

"Better than Wonyoung," you say.

“Better than Anyone,” Winter adds.

It’s a lie, of course. A delicious, cruel, and utterly necessary lie. Wonyoung was a fucking revelation, a depraved masterpiece in the sheets. But you pour every ounce of conviction you have into the words.

“You’re the best girl we’ve ever had together,” you continue as Winter returns to her feast, worshiping Yujin’s body with a devotion that sells the fantasy. “Our perfect, perfect girl.”

It's a worship of her body, yes, but also of that sweet surrender, the curl of the toes, the ravaged screams of complete bliss. You’re deifying her debasement, and she’s accepting the crown you offer with a shuddering, whole-bodied keen.

And so maybe there is some truth to the lie, because somehow you feel her clench even tighter, moan even louder, show an impossible level of arousal in the way her whole body shakes as she narrates her own undoing:

“You two are so good—so fucking good—so fucking amazing with your mouth and your fingers and your dick and you’re—oh god—please make me cum,  please make your good little girl cum please make me—”

She’s cut off by her own screams, you and Winter sending her above and beyond cloud nine as you continue to fuck her from here to the ends of the Earth.

That doesn't stop you from hitting a button on your phone, though.

“One minute, thirty-three seconds,” you announce all casual, your hips never ceasing their rocking.

Yujin’s too fucked out to hear you, of course, but Winter’s straight up ignoring you.

“Earth to Minjeong?” you call out, still pumping in and out of the convulsing Yujin.

“That’s fantastic, honey,” she idly replies, engrossed in the remnants of Yujin’s orgasm. 

You roll your eyes—she always did have a thing for her.

“Relatively slow, anyway,” you muse to no one in particular as you pull out and join Minjeong on cleaning this filthy princess up.