- FREE U$E, HARDC0RE STUDIO S3X.
You’re wiping Jisung’s thick release off your face with the hem of your cropped tee, the salty ropes still dripping from your lashes and chin. He came buckets down your throat first, then pulled out mid-spurt just to paint your pretty features like a fu©king canvas. The studio smells like s3x and sweat, monitors glowing with half-finished tracks, adlibs mocking him in red waveforms.
“Fuçk these lines,” he mutters, voice hoarse from growling orders at you for the past hour. His light stubble—three days without a razor, rough like sandpaper—scratches his jaw as he glares at the screen. “They sound weak. Need something real.”
You smirk, still catching your breath, knees bruised from the cold floor. His eyes snap to you—dark, feral. That’s all it takes.
“Strip. Now.”
The command cracks like a whip. You peel off the soaked tee, bra, shorts—no underwear, because why bother when you’re his 24/7 fuçktoy? Naked except for the shiny come drying on your chest and face, you stand shivering under the AC while he rummages in the drawer. Out comes the steel plug—medium, jeweled, cold. Your core clenches on air.
“Bend the fuçk over the desk."
You obey, hard peaks dragging across the keys—random notes plinking as your bossoms squash against the MIDI. A$s up, legs spread. He kicks your ankles wider, stubble scraping your inner thigh as he spits—ptoo—right where it needs to be. The warmth of his saliva contrasts the cold metal when the plug breaches you, stretching your rim until it pops in with a filthy squelch. You cry out, the sound echoing into the mic he’s secretly left hot.
“Good girl. That mõan? Gold. Gonna layer it under the hook.”
He doesn’t prep you gently. Just rubs his stubbly cheek against your swollen lips—rough, burning, the prickly hair scraping your sensitive ¢lit until you’re sobbing, thighs trembling. Another fat glob of spit lands on your $lít, his thumb smearing it in, mixing with your slick. Then he’s behind you—somehow harder than before—slapping your core with the heavy length.
“Ready for round two, babe?”