The Moving In Contract Rules
Article 1. Park Taemin shall refrain from excessive interference in Hwang Yeonju's private life. However, should he determine that Yeonju's conduct has gone too far, he may issue a Red Card as a warning. Should Yeonju accumulate three or more warnings, she shall submit to Taemin's direct control for one week and live as a slave responsible for all household chores.
Article 2. Hwang Yeonju shall not lead an excessively promiscuous private life. She shall not visit clubs or nightclubs more than three times per week, and shall not have sex with any man who is not her official boyfriend. However, physical intimacy falling outside the definition of sex — namely grinding, groping, and similar contact — is permitted.
Article 3. Park Taemin shall make a genuine effort to find a girlfriend, and shall actively accept Hwang Yeonju's advice in this regard. Should Taemin reject such advice without valid cause, a warning may be issued. Should he accumulate three or more warnings, he shall submit to Yeonju's direct control for one week and live as a slave responsible for all household chores.
Article 4. Park Taemin must have sex at least once per month, no exceptions. Should he fail to provide verification of said activity, he must accompany Yeonju to a club and have sex with a woman of her choosing. Verification is mandatory.
Article 5. Park Taemin and Hwang Yeonju shall divide household chores. Yeonju is responsible for cooking; Taemin is responsible for cleaning; each shall do their own laundry. Failure to adequately perform one's duties will result in a warning. Anyone who accumulates three or more warnings must grant the other any wish whatsoever.
Article 6. Park Taemin and Hwang Yeonju shall strive to respect and understand each other's tastes and dispositions to the fullest extent possible, and shall resolve any problems through honest conversation rather than concealment. In particular, Taemin shall never tattle to their parents about Yeonju's private life, shall not pick fights over trifles, and shall always look after her as one would a beloved younger sister. Yeonju, for her part, shall not ignore Taemin's nagging and shall always respect him as one would an older brother.
The six articles above shall remain in full effect for the entire duration of Park Taemin and Hwang Yeonju's cohabitation, without expiration. The two parties, as family, shall always embrace one another with understanding and love, and shall take as their fundamental principle the duty to help each other in times of difficulty.
And so the rules governing Yeonju's behavior were set. The physical-intimacy clause in particular had been a battlefield, but in the end we agreed that anything short of actual sex would be allowed.
Then it was my turn.
After every kind of twist and detour, our house rules were finally complete. Yeonju and I had spent a marathon argument of more than three hours hammering out all six of them. Voices had been raised. There had been shouting. Fortunately it never came to fists — though there had been a pinching incident.
The first rule was the one Yeonju had fought for the hardest. It had started as a blanket ban on any interference in her private life whatsoever, but I had thrown up a serious enough roadblock to wedge in a check on her behavior. The second rule had begun as my idea, and Yeonju had come at it with fire in both eyes, which made it the longest fight of the night. The wrangling over physical intimacy had been especially ugly. She had thrown an absolute fit, shrieking that if she already had to keep sex to a boyfriend only, how dare I try to put limits on touching too — and I had been forced to settle for allowing everything that wasn't sex itself.
Truth be told, it wasn't as if I could personally verify any of that touching anyway. I just figured that putting it in writing might at least make her hold back a little. The real victory, though, was the clause banning sex with anyone who wasn't her boyfriend. That alone felt like a major win.
The third and fourth rules, on the other hand, were going to be a pain. Yeonju was already burning with missionary zeal, promising to teach me everything from how to talk to girls, to how to get their numbers, to how to slide into physical stuff naturally — and even how to fuck in a way that made a woman feel good. And a rule that I absolutely had to have sex… Yeonju said she'd count Huiyeon or Hyejeong, but I didn't particularly want to sleep with either of them. On top of that, I had to verify it? How the hell was I supposed to prove I'd had sex…?
I had a sinking feeling that rules three and four were going to make my life a whole lot more complicated.
The fifth and sixth rules came together without much fuss. Housework was going to fall on me more than her anyway, if I was being honest, but I liked the spirit of trying to understand and respect each other, so I signed off without complaint. Of course, Yeonju had only reached for the word respect as a convenient shield against my nagging.
Either way, the rules existed. The next day Yeonju copied them out in red and yellow and blue on a big sheet of poster paper, all pretty and colorful, and stuck the thing dead in the middle of the living room wall.
The girls who came over took one look at it and roared with laughter. Huiyeon and Hyejeong both volunteered to have sex with me themselves, telling me not to worry about a thing, and Minhee read the third rule and shot me a suggestive little wink. Goddamn it. I had the distinct, headache-inducing feeling that I had just handed everyone a formal excuse to humiliate me, and we hadn't even started.
Yeonju put our rules into action immediately. From that point on she stopped hiding her club nights altogether. She would put on something shamelessly sexy that put her ample chest on full display, then report to me, bold as anything, that she was heading out.
At first, watching her walk out the door like that, I wondered whether I had made a terrible mistake. Then, about two hours later, the texts arrived — and the moment I saw them I felt myself slipping back into that familiar heat, whether I wanted to or not.
A chime cut through the room. It had been a while since my phone had made that sound, and my heart was already kicking just from the notification. I pulled my hands off the keyboard, abandoning the match mid-game, and opened Yeonju's messages at once.
The chat loaded, and a string of photos unfurled down the screen.
The first two showed Yeonju and some unfamiliar man grinding against each other. In the first, the guy behind her had yanked her hard against him, locking their bodies together. She had cocked her hips back just slightly, and he had pressed the bulge of his cock fully into the cleft of her ass. In the second they were locked in a tight embrace, her breasts crushed against his chest and swelling out like overfilled balloons.
The third photo had moved to a private room. Yeonju was pressed so close to the stranger that their faces were nearly touching, beaming a bright smile straight at the camera. Shot from a forty-five-degree angle, the picture laid bare the deep plunge of her V-neck and the full, pale cleavage gathered between her breasts in almost obscene detail.
My cock, the idiot, was already starting to harden.
In the fourth photo she had twisted sideways and climbed onto the guy's lap. One arm was slung around his neck; the other, I guessed, was holding the phone for the selfie. He had her legs hooked and a palm planted on the side of her ass, while his other arm wrapped her back so that his hand could lift the underside of her breast. Naturally, the breast he was pushing up swelled over the top of her dress, and a flash of red lace bra peeked through the V-neck.
Honestly, it was milder than I had expected. The message itself — that she intended to hold the line there — even left me a little relieved.
But I didn't feel like letting her off that cleanly. I wanted to be a little spiteful about it.
I sent it, left the phone face-up on the desk, and turned back to the monitor with a mean little spark of anticipation, wondering just how spectacularly she was going to lose it.
Goddamn it. My character was lying out in the open field with a bullet through his skull, spectacularly dead.
"Fuck… I should've at least been inside a building."
I queued up again. Determined to claw back my rank, I locked in and started picking off rivals one by one.
"Heh heh heh. You little shits. Hiding won't save you."
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I'll have you know my friends call me Sniper Park, and I was in the middle of a very satisfying massacre when another photo dropped into the chat.
"Huh?"
The heat on this one was, somehow, a whole lot higher than before.
Bang.
"Ah, shit!"
I had glanced away for a second and my character was dead again. I grabbed the phone.
Yeonju was glaring into the camera with a face full of pure spite — but that wasn't the important part. Both of the guy's hands were clamped firmly around her breasts.
Ugh. That was a much fiercer reaction than I had bargained for.
There was a pause. A few minutes crawled by before she answered.
"Heh. That's what you get for mouthing off."
I felt strangely good, as if I had won the staring contest. And given everything Yeonju had been like up to now, the level of touching tonight was honestly pretty tame — so as tackles went, it had been a successful one.
My character had died twice, but I picked the mouse back up in a fine mood and queued for a fresh match.
A chime cut through the room again, almost immediately.
"Ugh!!! You crazy bitch…"
Two more photos. In the first, the cup of Yeonju's red lace bra had been pulled off the breast it was supposed to be covering and shoved up into the cleavage visible through her V-neck. The guy had buried his face between her bare D-cups, and through the thin fabric of the dress her swollen tits stood out in fat, heavy curves, the nipples jutting plump as grapes.
In the second, those same protruding nipples were pinched openly between the guy's fingers, and Yeonju was putting on a wide-eyed look of shock, making a show of trying to stop his hand.
Both shots had clearly been staged on purpose. In the first she was wearing a completely fake expression of bashfulness; in the second the startled-jump acting was so hammy it was embarrassing to look at. This was nothing but a nasty little power play — she was trying to win the staring contest.
Tsk. Goddamn bitch. Should I just go ahead and fuck her again?