Where Y/n, your not so average student, gets her life caught in a pickle with three Japanese girls; her best friend, her crush, and her seductive tutor.
(I don't think the title defines the story lmao)
(A/n: I'm quite anxious if this chapter will turn out good or not, especially to Mina stans out there😭😭 I hope you enjoy this famsaranghae💙💙)
"SukochiDake"
(Just a little bit)
🔞
I was shoved into a bathroom stall as Mina shut the door lock, from unoccupied to occupied.
"M-Mina, w-whatare you doing? W-we still got class" I stared at her with confusion by her sudden actions.
She puts a finger to my mouth to shush me up "shh..." she pushed me down to seat in the toilet and sit herself in my lap, more likely straddling me.
With one swift swipe, she took the hoodie off my head, exposing the bright red mark that Ms. Sana marked me last night.
"Looks like someone beat me up to it" she said while examining the red mark "I should be the first one to mark you Y/n, now you'll be punished for it"
Why does it sounds like I was at fault? Why does it look like that its my mistake? Did I asked to be fucked by a horny squirrel last night?
"E-eh? N-nani? Mina-san, y-you~" she covers my mouth with her hand to silence me down. She grabbed a long red handkerchief and put both of my hands behind my back and tied it tightly.
This isn't like the last time right?
With her free hand, she grabbed her bag on the tiled floor near the toilet, she opened it and grabbed a plastic wrapper of some kind while her other hand is still covering my mouth.
The said wrapper had a popsicle stick sticking out of the wrapper, she hold onto the stick and bite the wrapper in the opposite end, revealing a big ice cold blueberry popsicle ice cream stick.
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A steam of smoke coming out from it indicates that it was still freshly cold.
Oh no, it better be not what I think it is...
She slowly takes her hand off my mouth as she replace it with the ice cream to shut my mouth.
The ice cream was definitely too cold with its blueberry flavor as my tongue went freezing numb.
