[Sasaki's Apartment — Bedroom]
Her body locked rigid beneath him—every sinew pulled taut as bowstring wire.
Sweat gathered in the hollows of her collarbones, slid along the pale groove of her sternum, and soaked into the already-rumpled sheets. Ruri's face, exquisite even twisted in discomfort, turned sharply to the side, teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to blanch the skin white. A thin, trembling exhale escaped her nostrils, fogging faintly in the cool air-conditioned draft that washed over them both.
Between her thighs, a ribbon of vivid crimson leaked from where their bodies joined—bright against the alabaster of her inner skin, warm and slick as it traced a slow, meandering line down the curve of her ass and pooled on the fitted sheet beneath. The stain blossomed outward into the cotton like watercolor bleeding across wet paper, a dark little flower unfurling its petals against the white.
The smell hit Sasaki immediately: copper and salt layered over the heady, humid sweetness that already saturated the room—her arousal, her sweat, the faint floral ghost of whatever body wash she used, all of it now undercut by the mineral tang of blood. His nostrils flared. His jaw clenched so hard his molars ached.
Don't move. Don't you fucking move.
His whole body shook. A deep, involuntary tremor ran from his thighs through his abdomen and up into his chest, and he had to lock both arms straight—palms flat against the mattress on either side of her ribcage—just to keep himself still.
Every theory he'd absorbed, every late-night tutorial he'd skimmed through on clearing-browser-history tabs, every smug mental rehearsal—none of it had prepared him for this. The reality of being inside someone, the devastating, brain-blanking heat and pressure of it, obliterated every intellectual framework he'd ever constructed.
He wouldn't last ten minutes like this. He knew it with a sick certainty, the way you know a sneeze is coming.
But beneath the panic, beneath the physical urgency clawing at the base of his spine, something else uncoiled in Sasaki's chest—a dark, sprawling satisfaction that made him almost dizzy.
She was untouched.
The proof was right there, drying in a bloom of red on his sheets. Sato Ruri—the girl who made half the school hold their breath when she walked past—had never been with anyone. She was a blank manuscript, and he was the first pen that had ever pressed ink into her pages. Pure, pristine, unspoiled until exactly this moment, and now she was pinned beneath him with his cock splitting her open, her virginity dissolving into a stain neither of them could take back. From tonight forward, every time she thought about her first, it would be him.
And it wouldn't be the last time. Not even close.
How many more times am I going to wreck this girl?
The thought alone nearly undid him. Sasaki sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, held it until his lungs burned, and forced himself to exhale in a slow, controlled stream. Completely motionless. If he so much as twitched, it was over.
That's when the familiar chime sounded in his ear—a clean, crystalline ding that only he could hear.
---
〔SYSTEM〕
Achievement Unlocked: Non-Virgin
Special achievement — First sexual intercourse completed.
Reward: +10,000 Scumbag Points
Achievement Unlocked: Deflowered Beauty
Claimed the virginity of a pure, beautiful girl.
Reward: +5,000 Scumbag Points
Current Balance: 15,400 SP
---
Sasaki's eyes went wide.
Ten thousand points just for losing his virginity. Ten thousand. If he'd fumbled into some half-drunk hookup back in second year like a normal teenager, those points would've evaporated into thin air—wasted on some forgettable encounter before the System had ever found him. Thank god for his own cowardice. Thank god he'd been too chickenshit to ask anyone out before all of this.
And Ruri's virginity alone was worth another five thousand on top. Fifteen thousand points earned in a single night. He'd gone from middle-class to loaded in the time it took to pop a cherry.
His gaze dropped back to the girl trembling beneath him—brows knotted, lashes wet, every exhale hitching in her throat like a half-swallowed sob—and the dark satisfaction in his chest swelled into something possessive and hungry.
I want to ruin her even more.
No hesitation. Sasaki pulled up the Enhancement interface in his mind's eye.
First priority: survival. He dumped points into Duration—six hundred seconds of added stamina, ten points per second. Six thousand Scumbag Points evaporated in an instant, but the effect was immediate: the unbearable pressure at the base of his shaft eased, the ticking countdown in his nervous system resetting like someone had pulled the pin on a grenade and calmly slotted it back in.
He exhaled. Better. Much better.
Next: length. Three thousand points bought him thirty additional millimeters—a hundred points per millimeter, each increment stacking onto his existing size until the total reached an absurd one hundred and eighty millimeters. Over seven inches. The growth happened in real-time, his cock swelling and extending while still buried to the hilt inside her.
Ruri's reaction was instantaneous.
"—hhk!"
Her spine arched clean off the mattress, shoulder blades digging into the sheets, and her eyes flew open—wide, glassy, the pupils blown so large her irises were barely visible. The sudden depth, the blunt pressure reaching somewhere it hadn't reached a second ago, punched the air out of her lungs in a choked gasp. Her thighs clamped against his hips like a vice, and for a moment her entire body went rigid, frozen in a silent scream.
Sasaki wasn't done.
One more enhancement—diameter. The original girth felt inadequate now, mismatched against the new length like a katana blade mounted on a butter knife handle. He bit down and spent another thousand points. Ten millimeters of added circumference. One centimeter thicker, all at once.
The effect was devastating.
Ruri's fingers clawed into the sheets so hard the fabric tore. A raw, broken sound—half gasp, half whimper—ripped from her throat as her inner walls were forced to stretch around the sudden expansion. Her mouth hung open, lips trembling, a thin strand of saliva catching the dim lamplight.
"Aah—hah—"
---
〔SYSTEM〕
Enhancement Summary:
Duration: +600 seconds — 6,000 SP
Length: +30mm (total: 180mm) — 3,000 SP
Diameter: +10mm — 1,000 SP
Total Spent: 10,000 SP
Current Balance: 5,400 SP
---
Ten thousand points, gone in seconds. Sasaki winced internally—that was a brutal hit to his balance. But this was a matter of dignity. A man's performance on a night like this wasn't something you could afford to cheap out on. He'd have been ashamed to face himself in the mirror tomorrow otherwise.
He looked down.
Ruri was a mess beneath him. Her chest heaved in ragged, uneven breaths, the swell of her breasts rising and falling sharply with each one. Her face was flushed from hairline to throat, lips bitten red, eyelashes clumped together with the tears that had slipped free when the expansion hit. She was trying to accommodate him—he could feel it, the involuntary clenching and unclenching of her inner muscles struggling to adjust around the new dimensions of him—but her body was fighting a losing battle. She was tight, impossibly so, and the combination of the tearing pain from her lost virginity and the sheer size of what was now lodged inside her had overwhelmed her completely.
She was a virgin five minutes ago and now she's trying to take a hundred and eighty millimeters. This might have been a miscalculation.
Ruri's eyes cracked open—wet, red-rimmed, luminous even through the haze of tears. She stared up at him with an expression that sat somewhere between accusation and supplication.
"It hurts," she whispered. Her voice cracked on the second word. "Please—pull it out—"
Guilt flickered through Sasaki's chest, brief and hot. He'd gotten so caught up in his own ego that he'd forgotten the obvious: this was her first time too. Her body wasn't built to handle this kind of escalation without warning.
But the solution was already at his fingertips—literally.
He shifted his weight to one arm and slid his right hand down, pressing his palm flat against the inside of her thigh where his signature still marked the skin in faint, silvery script. His left hand followed, settling warm and broad across her lower belly, just above the pubic bone, where the second signature lived. The moment his skin made contact with both marks, a gentle warmth pulsed outward from the inscriptions—not visible, not dramatic, just a slow, deep heat that sank through her muscles and into the screaming nerve endings beneath.
At the same time, he lowered himself carefully, keeping his hips absolutely still, and pressed his lips to hers. Soft. Unhurried. His mouth moved against her trembling lips with a tenderness that contradicted everything else about the situation—tongue tracing the seam of her mouth, coaxing her to open for him, swallowing the small pained sounds she was still making.
Ruri shuddered. Her fingers, still tangled in the torn sheet, slowly unclenched.
The crease between her brows began to smooth. The rigid lock of her thighs around his waist loosened by degrees, the trembling in her abdomen fading from violent shaking to a low, rolling quiver. Where his palms pressed against her signature-marked skin, the analgesic warmth spread outward in widening rings, dissolving the sharp edges of the pain into something distant, something manageable—and then something else entirely.
Her hips shifted beneath him. A small, involuntary roll.
Oh.
The pain was receding. In its wake, the arousal that had been building in her body since long before they'd reached the bed—the arousal his hands and mouth had stoked during every moment of foreplay—came flooding back in, filling the space that the pain vacated. The heat between her legs transformed from a burning ache into a deep, pulsing throb that made her inner walls clench rhythmically around his shaft.
Ruri's lips parted against his mouth, and the sound that escaped was no longer a whimper of pain.
"Mmnh..."
That was all the permission Sasaki needed.
His hands clamped onto her waist—fingers sinking into the soft give of her hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows just inside her hip bones—and he drew back. Slowly, inch by deliberate inch, the thick shaft of his cock dragging along her slick inner walls until only the swollen head remained inside, stretching her entrance in a tight, glistening ring. The air hit the wet skin of his shaft and he hissed through his teeth at the contrast—cool air against scorching heat.
Then he drove forward.
"A-aahh~!"
Ruri's cry split the quiet of the bedroom like a bell struck too hard. Her back bowed, chest pressing up against his, and her nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave crescent moons in his skin. The full one hundred and eighty millimeters of him plunged deep, filling her completely, the blunt head pushing against something deep and yielding that made her vision white out for a half-second.
Sasaki groaned—low, guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest and into hers where their bodies pressed together. The sensation was indescribable. Molten silk. Wet satin fisted tight around him, every millimeter of her inner walls gripping and rippling against his shaft like she was trying to pull him deeper and push him out simultaneously. He could feel her heartbeat through the thin membrane separating them—or maybe that was his own pulse, hammering so hard it resonated through his cock.
He started slow.
Long, measured strokes—pulling nearly all the way out, then pressing back in with controlled force, letting her body adjust to each re-entry. Each thrust drew a sound from her: small, breathy moans that rose in pitch at the deepest point of penetration and trailed off into shaky exhales as he withdrew.
"Nn... hah... ah..."
Her moans were tentative at first—like she was surprised by each one, embarrassed by the sounds her own body was producing. She turned her face into the pillow, trying to muffle them, but every time he bottomed out inside her, her composure cracked a little further.
Sasaki lasted approximately ninety seconds at that pace before restraint became physically impossible.
His hips snapped forward harder. Faster. The wet, obscene sound of skin meeting skin—schlap, schlap, schlap—filled the room, punctuated by the creak of the bed frame and the increasingly desperate sounds falling from Ruri's mouth. The smell thickened around them: musk and sweat and the sharp, sweet tang of her arousal mixing with the lingering copper of blood, all of it trapped in the warm air between their bodies like perfume in a closed room.
"Nn~! Nn~! Hnn~! Aah~!"
"W-wait—wait—too fast—aahh~!"
"N-no, that's not—don't stop—you idiot—hahh—"
Her words disintegrated. Whatever composure she'd been clinging to shattered completely under the relentless rhythm of his hips, each thrust punching the breath from her lungs before she could form a coherent syllable. Her hands abandoned his shoulders and flung backward, gripping the iron bars of the headboard, knuckles bone-white.
Sasaki watched her unravel beneath him and felt something predatory and electric surge through his bloodstream. Every cry she made, every involuntary clench of her walls around his cock, every bitten-off moan that devolved into a shapeless gasp—it was all fuel. He fed on it, drove harder because of it, angling his hips to hit the spot that made her voice crack into a register he hadn't known she possessed.
The pleasure built in spiraling layers. Her inner walls, already impossibly snug, began to tighten further—rhythmic contractions that squeezed and released along the full length of his shaft, each one stronger than the last. The sensation crawled up his spine like electricity arcing along a wire, pooling hot and heavy at the base of his cock, pressure mounting toward a threshold he could feel approaching like a wave drawing back from shore.
"Ruri—" He dropped onto his forearms, his face close to hers, breath ragged against her parted lips. His cock never stopped moving, plunging into the wet heat of her in deep, rolling thrusts that pressed her thighs apart with each stroke. "I'm—I'm close—"
"Don't stop—" Her voice was wrecked, barely a voice at all, just breath shaped into syllables. Her legs wrapped around his waist—ankles locking behind his lower back—and her hips tilted upward to meet him, pulling him deeper. "Don't stop—"
Her breasts, flushed pink and sheened with sweat, bounced with each impact of his hips against hers. The stiff peaks of her nipples dragged across his chest as their bodies rocked together, each pass sending a visible shiver rippling down her torso. She was close too—he could feel it in the way her walls were fluttering around him, fast and erratic, the contractions building toward something her body was chasing with blind, desperate urgency.
"Oh—oh—ahh—nn—oh—hahh—hahh—"
Ruri's breathing fractured into short, gasping bursts. Her toes—slender, delicate, the nails unpainted—curled so hard the tendons in her feet stood out in sharp relief. Her feet hung in the air behind his back, bouncing with each thrust, tracing wild arcs that grew wider as the pace intensified. Her eyes locked on the ceiling, unseeing, her mouth open in a perfect O, her entire body drawn tight as a wire about to snap.
Below her navel, her flat belly distended with each deep stroke—a faint but visible bulge pressing outward through the taut, sweat-slicked skin, the shape unmistakably the head of his cock pushing against her from inside. It appeared and vanished with each thrust, a grotesque, mesmerizing rhythm that Sasaki couldn't tear his eyes from.
Her pussy clenched hard.
The sudden vice-grip squeezed a raw groan out of him. Her inner walls spasmed, rippling in powerful waves from her entrance to the deepest point inside her, milking his shaft with a force that bordered on painful. Slick, viscous fluid—not blood this time but her own arousal, copious and hot—squelched out around the base of his cock with each thrust, coating his balls, dripping onto the sheets in audible drops. The wet friction between them intensified unbearably, every nerve ending in his shaft screaming toward release.
"Ruri—Ruri—"
Sasaki planted both hands flat on the mattress, arms locked, and his hips became a piston—fast, brutal, graceless, each impact jolting her entire body upward on the bed. His cock swelled inside her, impossibly harder, the veins along the shaft pulsing with his hammering heartbeat.
Ruri's legs tightened around him. She surged upward, mouth finding his, kissing him with teeth and tongue and the sloppy desperation of someone drowning. Her moan poured directly into his throat.
"Mmph—!"
The crest hit her first.
Her body went rigid—hips jerking upward off the mattress, spine curved into an arch so sharp only her shoulders and the crown of her head touched the bed. The orgasm detonated through her in visible, rolling shockwaves: her thighs trembled violently, her abdomen clenched in rapid spasms, and her pussy contracted around his cock with a crushing, rhythmic intensity that stole every thought from his skull.
The sensation obliterated him.
His cock pulsed—once, enormously, the swollen head pressed flush against the deepest wall of her—and then he was coming, the orgasm ripping through him like a current. Thick, heavy ropes of cum erupted from his tip, splashing against her cervix in hot, pressurized bursts. One. Two. Three. Four—each jet more forceful than the last, filling her in a way he could actually feel: the pressure of his own release pooling inside her, trapped by the seal of her clenching walls, nowhere to go but deeper.
"AAH—! AH—! AHH—!"
Ruri screamed—twice, three times—sharp, ragged cries that cracked at their peaks and collapsed into breathless silence. Her body convulsed beneath him, limbs jerking in uncoordinated spasms, and then her eyes rolled back—lids fluttering—and she went limp. Completely, utterly limp. Her legs slid from his waist and fell open against the mattress. Her arms dropped to her sides. Her head lolled to one side on the pillow, lips parted, a thin line of drool catching the lamplight.
She'd passed out.
Her body still trembled in the aftermath—small, involuntary shudders running through her like aftershocks, her pussy still clenching weakly around his softening cock in slow, dreamy contractions—but she was gone. Unconscious. Knocked clean out of awareness by the force of her own climax.
Sasaki stayed inside her for a long moment, breathing hard, arms shaking. He counted at least twelve distinct pulses before the last of his release dribbled out, and even then the residual pleasure kept sparking along his shaft in diminishing waves. When he finally pulled free—slowly, carefully, the thick head stretching her entrance one last time before it slipped out with a wet, obscene pop—a torrent of milky white followed.
Cum spilled from her in a thick, sluggish river, pooling between her thighs and soaking into the already-ruined sheets. The visual—that flood of his release pouring out of her flushed, swollen pussy, her labia puffy and reddened, slick with a cocktail of blood and arousal and semen—hit him somewhere primal and territorial. A bone-deep satisfaction settled into his chest like warm concrete.
Mine.
He exhaled long and slow. Studied her.
Ruri lay sprawled across the bed in total abandon—one arm flung above her head, the other draped across her stomach. Her skin was flushed a deep, blotchy rose from her cheeks to her chest, the post-orgasmic glow painting her in shades of pink and crimson that made her look like a figure from a Renaissance painting left out in the rain. Sweat glazed every visible inch of her.
Her hair—that sleek, dark curtain that always fell so perfectly—had come completely undone, strands plastered to her forehead, her neck, the damp curve of one cheek. Her breathing was shallow but steady, her expression slack and strangely peaceful, as though whatever storm had ripped through her nervous system had left only calm in its wake.
She was, without question, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Sasaki reached down and palmed one breast—gently, almost experimentally, his thumb tracing the soft, sweat-damp curve of the underside. The flesh yielded under his hand like warm dough, the nipple still hard against his palm.
"Mn..."
A faint, unconscious moan. Her brow twitched. But her eyes stayed closed, her body too thoroughly spent to claw its way back to wakefulness. One hour. Two rounds. And she was done—drained like a battery run to zero, her limbs boneless and heavy against the mattress.
Ten thousand points well spent, Sasaki thought, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. The stamina enhancement alone had transformed him from a fumbling novice into someone who could actually perform. Without it, he'd have finished inside of three minutes and spent the rest of the night marinating in shame. Instead, he'd outlasted her. Put her to sleep. Literally.
He lingered inside her a moment longer—reluctant to break the connection, savoring the residual warmth and the lazy, involuntary clenches of her body around him—before easing himself free. The separation drew a soft, muffled grunt from her throat, her hips twitching once, but she didn't wake.
Sasaki climbed off the bed, naked and unhurried, and padded out of the bedroom without bothering to dress. The hallway air was cool against his sweat-damp skin. Behind him, the bedroom smelled like a crime scene: sex and iron and the sharp musk of spent arousal, layered beneath the faint sandalwood from the diffuser on his nightstand that had been fighting a losing battle all night.
He pulled the door halfway shut and left her there.
---
Time passed. How much, Ruri couldn't say.
Consciousness returned in fragments—first the ceiling, unfamiliar and too far away, painted a shade of eggshell she didn't recognize. Then the sheets beneath her, damp and cool against her bare skin. Then the pain.
"Hss—"
A hiss escaped through her clenched teeth as a vicious, tearing ache radiated upward from between her legs, sharp enough to make her stomach clench. She pressed her palms flat against the mattress and forced herself upright, every muscle in her core protesting the movement. The sheet fell from her chest, pooling at her waist, and cool air hit her bare breasts. She barely noticed.
The soreness told her everything.
Ruri sat motionless in the dim room, knees drawn toward her chest, staring at the far wall without seeing it. The air smelled like him—like them—a thick, unmistakable cocktail of sweat and sex and something faintly metallic that she recognized, with a slow lurch of her stomach, as her own blood.
It happened.
The memories returned not in a rush but in a procession—each one stepping forward to present itself with clinical clarity, as if her subconscious had organized them into a slideshow specifically designed to mortify her.
Following him here, flushed and dazed and too aroused to think straight. His hands on her body, peeling away her clothes with a casualness that made her want to scream. Every sound she'd made—the whimpers, the moans, the begging—each one hitting her now like a slap. And then the bed. His weight on top of her.
The initial, blinding pain that had torn through her like a knife dragged across raw skin. The way that pain had dissolved, replaced by something so overwhelming she'd lost the ability to form words, her mouth producing nothing but animal sounds while her body writhed beneath him like it belonged to someone else.
I told him not to stop.
I called him an idiot for slowing down.
The memory of her own voice—wrecked, shameless, desperate—saying those things made heat flood her face so violently she could feel it in her ears. She pressed both hands against her cheeks as if she could physically contain the blush.
His one hundred and eighty millimeters.
She didn't even know how she knew that number. She didn't want to know it. But her body remembered—the impossible fullness, the stretch that bordered on breaking, the visible distortion of her own belly with each thrust. The thought made something low in her abdomen clench involuntarily, and she squeezed her thighs together hard, wincing at the soreness the motion produced.
I'm such a mess.
Ruri's emotions tangled into a knot she couldn't unravel. Loss and confusion sat heavy in her chest—the strange, hollow vertigo of having crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed. Beneath that, a current of panic: What does this make me? What does this make us? And beneath that, quieter but undeniable, a warmth she refused to name, curling through her like smoke.
She lowered her gaze to the sheets gathered around her waist. The stain was still there—her blood, his release, all of it dried into the cotton in a messy, damning abstract.
I can't undo this.
Her fingers found the edge of the ruined sheet and pulled it slowly over her bare shoulders, wrapping herself in it like armor, and she sat in Sasaki's empty bed with her knees pressed to her chest and her heart hammering against her ribs, staring at the sliver of hallway light leaking through the half-open door.