He just bought his first home — an empty penthouse with nothing in it but a chair someone forgot to move. Jinsoul decides that's more than enough to work with.
Just after New Years
You just submitted your letter of resignation to ARTMS’ company. You’d saved enough to purchase your own home somewhere in Seoul in the middle of a busy entertainment district. You’d bought your own penthouse—a sign of good things to come, a sign of the success that had landed on you after months of grinding.
The penthouse was completely empty except for one chair.
You stood in the middle of the vast space, keys still in your hand, looking around at what would become your new home. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, open floor plan, enough space for all of them to gather comfortably. It was perfect.
And it was yours.
“Holy shit,” Jinsoul said, her voice echoing off the bare walls. She walked further in, her footsteps loud in the emptiness, her black leather jacket catching the afternoon light from the windows. The blue oversized scarf around her neck swayed with her movement. “This is incredible.”
“It’s too much space for one person,” you admitted. “But I was thinking—we could all fit here. Everyone together. Movie nights, dinners, just… hanging out. Like we used to.”
She turned to look at you, understanding in her eyes. “Before everything got so busy.”
“Yeah.”
Jinsoul walked over to the single chair sitting inexplicably in the middle of the empty living room. It was nice—leather, sturdy, probably left behind by the previous owners’ movers by accident. She ran her hand along the back of it, then shrugged off her jacket, draping it over the chair.
“Why is there a random chair here?” she asked.
“No idea. They were supposed to clear everything out.” You walked over, stood next to her. “Guess they missed one.”
“Lucky us.” She sat down, testing it. The white cashmere sweater she wore underneath was soft, expensive-looking. “Comfortable.”
The way she said it, the way she looked up at you—there was invitation there.
“We should christen the place,” she said casually. “Break it in properly.”
“With the one piece of furniture we have?”
“Exactly.” She leaned back in the chair, legs spreading slightly. “Come here.”
You moved closer. She reached out, pulled you toward her by your belt.
“Say something,” she said suddenly.
“What?”
“Anything. I want to hear how it sounds in here.”
“This is amazing,” you said, your voice echoing slightly in the empty space.
She grinned. “Again. Louder.”
“This is fucking amazing!” you shouted.
The words bounced off the walls, came back to you. Jinsoul laughed, the sound filling the penthouse.
“I love it,” she said. “It’s like the space is celebrating with us.” She started unbuttoning your pants. “Now let’s give it something really worth echoing.”
She freed your cock, already half-hard from anticipation. Took you in her mouth right there in the middle of the empty penthouse, and the wet sounds echoed obscenely in the space.
“Fuck,” you breathed, and your voice carried.
She pulled off, stroked you slowly. “I want to hear you. Really hear you. Don’t hold back.”
She took you deep, and you groaned loudly. The sound reverberated around you, surrounding you both. It was surreal—intimate and vast at the same time.
Jinsoul pulled off, stood up. She pulled the cashmere sweater over her head, revealing the black lace bra underneath. Her jeans and underwear followed, all discarded in a pile next to the chair.
“Sit,” she commanded.
You sat in the chair. She straddled you, positioned herself, and sank down slowly.
The moan she let out echoed beautifully, bouncing off every wall.
“There it is,” she gasped, starting to ride you. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
She rode you hard, and the sounds filled the empty space. Skin against skin. Her moans. Your groans. The creak of the chair. All of it bouncing off the walls, amplified, surrounding you.
“Tell me,” she demanded, grinding down on you. “Tell me what this means to you.”
“It means I made it,” you said between thrusts. “All the work. All the stress. It paid off.”
“Louder,” she commanded, clenching around you.
“I fucking made it!” you shouted, gripping her hips, thrusting up hard.
Your voice echoed back, and Jinsoul laughed breathlessly. “Yes you did. And we’re going to fill this place with so many memories.”
She rode you faster, chasing her pleasure. The chair scraped slightly against the floor with the force of her movements, the sound adding to the symphony of echoes.
“Fuck, yes!” she screamed, not holding back. “Right there!”
Her voice bounced around the penthouse, came back from every direction.
“The neighbors—” you started.
“Fuck the neighbors!” she shouted, riding you harder. “Let them hear! Let them know you’re celebrating!”
You thrust up hard, hitting deep, and she threw her head back and screamed. The sound was incredible in the empty space—primal, uninhibited, echoing endlessly.
“I’m close,” she gasped. “Make me come in your new home. Christen it properly.”
You gripped her hips tight, thrust up relentlessly. She came with a cry that bounced around the empty penthouse like music, surrounding you from every direction.
As she came down from her high, still trembling, she leaned close to your ear.
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