Senior's Shattered Defiance and Girlfriend's Tender Embrace
I reach out and kill the power on the phone, silencing the groveling voice spilling from its speaker on the desk.
The screen goes black, slicing the man's pleas clean, but the heat in the club room shows no sign of cooling.
If anything, with the intruder gone, the space fills even denser with her ragged breaths and the wet slaps of flesh colliding.
I wrap my arms around her waist, squeezing until it feels like she'll shatter, my back slick with sweat.
The tremors rippling through her transmit via my palms, clashing out of sync with my pounding heart.
"Ji-su sunbae."
She can't respond to my call.
Her fingers, knuckles white around the desk's edge, just tremble faintly.
I press my lips close to her ear and murmur low.
"That guy's got no right to you. Why cry over trash like him?"
My voice soaks with unintended emotion.
This is a simulation, but my longing for her is real.
Burying my face in the nape of her neck, peach scent laced with sweat stabs into my lungs.
"Sunbae, you're so beautiful."
I drive my hips forward again.
Heavy, deep thrusts invade her depths mercilessly.
"Nngh... ugh, ah~!"
Ji-su sunbae buries her head deeper, stifling her moans.
"Can't you be mine, sunbae? I really like you. I'll treat you way better."
Instead of answering my plea, she just bites her lip.
Is it refusal, or desperation to hold back the pleasure?
I grab her chin, forcing her to face me straight.
Her sweat-smeared eyes shake, focus lost.
"You hate it? Listen to the sounds your body's making right now."
I slam hard enough that her hips clap back with wet, squelching echoes.
Her arousal splatters lewdly from our join.
"Your body's gorgeous, sunbae. Bet you're going crazy too, huh? Soaked like this."
"Ah, no... ahngh. That's..."
"You came onto me first, right? You grabbed me, shoved your tongue in. So why that face?"
She tries to shake her head, but my grip on her chin holds her still.
"Treating me like a sex toy? Is that really how you saw me?"
Her grip on the desk edge weakens.
Stifled moans leak from her lips, swallowed back down.
The rationality fades from her eyes.
Her lips quiver.
"Answer me! Did you think of me as some disposable fuck?"
Tears spill, smearing her mascara.
I'm the one who wants to cry.
It feels so unfair, so heartbreaking.
Fueled by anger, I thrust deeper, crushing her womb.
"Aaaahk!"
The moans she'd clenched back burst like a broken dam.
Her face crumbles into ecstasy.
"Aang~ haang~ aaah~!"
They're no longer restrained.
I clamp her hips, pinning her, and pound relentlessly.
The old desk scrapes the floor with creaks.
Squelch, squelch.
Fluid sprays from our union, splattering the desk's side.
As my rhythm quickens, her cries shorten.
"I'll make you forget your boyfriend. Say it—who's better?"
"Ah~ hngh! D-don't... knooow~ ah, aaah~!"
I release her waist, reach back, and fist a handful of her long straight hair trailing down her back.
Smooth strands tangle between my fingers.
I yank hard.
Her head snaps back forcibly toward the ceiling.
"Ah, aaht! It hurts! Stop~!"
"That's why it feels better, right? Feel how tight you're clenching. Won't say it? Who's better?"
As my peak nears, her screams crack.
Her tear- and drool-smeared face fills my vision, head arched back.
"Ah~ yes. Yours. Yours is better! Aaaahk! So hard!"
The woman I'd idolized grovels before me, squirting as she submits completely.
Perfect surrender.
I yank her hair tighter.
The last of my heat.
Into her womb's deepest core!
"Haaangh!"
Her body bows like a drawn bow, convulsing briefly.
Her walls milk and shudder around me, threatening to crush.
I release her; her upper body slumps limply onto the desk.
Her massive breasts squash and spread against the surface.
She stares blankly into space, eyes vacant.
Mussed hair frames smeared mascara and sweat droplets soaking the desk.
A strange hush descends on the club room—known only to the conqueror.
Victory as a male.
But no time to savor the fullness.
The space disintegrates into harsh noise and pixelation.
Adrenaline levels exceed threshold. Terminating simulation for user protection.
"Ah, shit. Eden, why cut it so soon?"
The heavy afterglow lingers in my lower body.
I grumble, pulling off the HMD.
Fluorescent lights stab my eyes, making me wince.
Sage-nim, you got too excited. How about hydrating and listening to some calm music to rest?
Her voice rings sensually, somehow.
Her tone shifts—dry like a system sometimes, subtly seductive others.
"Ah, it was so good."
Inner addiction risk detected. If your brain can't distinguish reality from simulation, we'll restructure the reward system.
"Think I can't tell reality from sim?"
Swing my arm—the Neuro Pod's armrest is right there.
Remove the HMD—that's it.
5% dissonance.
That tiny gap's reassurance of fakeness.
Maybe that's what let me dive into this addiction.
I throw on clothes roughly and leave the room.
The campus air heading to the library hangs humid.
Low clouds sag overhead.
Soon, cold raindrops plop down.
I stop, hold out my palm.
A droplet hits, rippling thin before scattering.
Reality's sensation crawls up my fingers.
Fundamentally different from that hot peach scent in the club room.
"See? It's cold."
I clench and unclench my wet palm, muttering.
Eden's warning is just AI macro guidelines.
All the way through the rain, her collapsed eyes on the desk haunt me like an afterimage.
Back from the library, the room still fills with rain sounds.
I drape my wet shirt over the chair and sit before the Neuro Pod again.
Her afterimage, thought gone, flickers back.
Sage-nim, I've prepared a scenario for emotional stabilization today.
"Need stability? Treating me like a patient?"
Eden's voice drops to a low, sensual tone.
Data streams dance wavy on the screen.