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MIDA Bibliography
June 2024 | Two For One | AESPA Winter
July 2024 | Turn Back Time | LE SSERAFIM Sakura
July 2025 | A New Beginning | NMIXX Sullyoon
October 2025 | The deal | AESPA Giselle
February 2026 | Under an alien sky | LESSERAFIM Sakura
May 2026 | Moka's secret | ILLIT Moka
if not succubus why succubus shaped?
Just read your Moka fics like the way of how Moka seems like a total sweetheart yet freaky and chaotic omg. Absolutely loved all their clumsy moments 😭, you just make it so much fun to read it through. thank you for this! Would there be any part 2 if you dont mind me asking ?
Thank you for reading! It's exactly what I wanted to do for Moka's character, and I'm happy you can see it that way as well.
I don't think I'll make a second part, but like the other fics, I could probably make short drabbles in the same universe.
Thank you for the kind words!
Two hearts and a thousand stars
Jiyu x Reader
Genre: Fluff | Length: 3.1k
Summary: You go watch the stars with Jiyu
Note: Written for Jiyu's birthday! This one-shot actually fits in the farmgirl Jiyu idea I had shared on my blog a while ago. I am trying to write a book about it and this would be one of the scenes. Maybe one day I'll actually finish it.
“You’d never seen the stars?” Jiyu asked, her eyes widening, astounded.
You shrugged. “I did notice some white dots at night, but I had never seen a constellation,” you admitted.
“You’d never heard of Ursa Major?”
“I’d heard about them, but I’d never seen them with my own eyes,” you replied, scratching the back of your neck. From the tone of her voice, it sounded like you’d missed an essential part of the experience of life.
“Well, you have to see them!”
“Do I?”
“Wha—yes, of course!” Jiyu replied, almost offended at your doubt. “They are so beautiful!”
You scratched your head. To be quite honest, you weren't really interested, but her excitement was contagious. Her eyes were beaming, and you had a very big soft spot for her at that point, so you had to agree.
“Okay,” you sighed, completely swayed by her irresistible charm. “Tell me how.”
There came that smile that you loved—the prize for your continuous trips to the farm. “Yes! Okay, well, the problem is that you live in the city.”
“Right. The light pollution.”
“There’s a spot after our farm where I used to go when I was little; you’ll see them so well.”
“Is it very far?”
“No, we can walk there.”
“Okay, how long is the walk? Because I know you underestimate it.”
“About half an hour,” she said dismissively, leaning back in the chair to think about the path.
“Jiyu, that’s far.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is—that’s a bike ride distance, not a walk. I don’t know, it’s not worth it,” you complained.
“You take twenty minutes by bike to get here!” Jiyu shot back and crossed her arms.
“To see you, it’s worth it,” you said.
Your brain couldn’t even check the words before they left your mouth. You realized it a bit too late. The silence that followed was embarrassing and suffocating. Jiyu’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. She looked away, staring outside the window, pretending you weren’t there. You could feel the heat crawling up your neck and your ears reddening.
“...”
“...”
You cleared your throat, still not looking at her. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Good!” Jiyu said, both happy that you had agreed to the mission and that you were breaking the awkward pause. She stepped forward and shot a series of frantic pats onto your back. “We could sleep there. Have you ever slept on the grass?”
“Nope,” you said. “I have a bed.”
“Gosh, you haven’t done anything at all,” she teased. “You’ve never camped anywhere?”
“No.”
“No Boy Scouts?”
“No.”
“You’re like a housecat.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Okay, so I think I have a sleeping bag, but the grass is really soft. I don’t think we need that.”
“What about the bugs?” you asked.
“Well, just cover yourself in bug spray and it will be fine,” she replied. “We’ll lay some towels and it’ll be good.”
“Alright, whatever you say, boss.”
Jiyu pushed your shoulder. “Come on, it will be fun! You should sound more excited.”
“Just scared about bugs.”
You didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of spending the night by Jiyu’s side was making your heart do spins and somersaults inside your ribcage. You were already thinking about all the possible outfits you had in your wardrobe—which were three—and how you’d act next to her. It was unnerving.
You talked with her a little more, and the time to go home came. You took a tour of the garden to greet Grandma like you always did and hopped on your bike. You spent about an hour trying to match different pants and shirts and concluded that fancy clothes were the wrong choice. You were supposed to sleep there, right? You shouldn’t be trying too hard; you should be casual.
Alright, some comfy pants, a t-shirt, and an open dress shirt would be absolutely fine. It was going to be windy anyway. Snacks, towels, and drinks were already in your bag. You wanted to be extra careful and also brought a bunch of sprays and bug incense.
When you arrived there, Jiyu was waiting for you outside the porch. The sunset had just started, and its light hit Jiyu’s skin with a golden ray. She was wearing a casual black shirt with long sleeves. It didn't seem like she had tried, but she didn't need to. She looked amazing regardless. Your heart was racing already. You had to pull yourself together.
Jiyu turned around and, at the sight of you, her face surrendered to a big, toothy smile. Oh, you were so weak for her.
“Jiyu! I’m here,” you called to her.
“Took you long enough, mister.”
“Sorry, the traffic,” you said as you propped your bike against the wall of the house.
“You cycled here.”
“Uhhh, yeah.”
Jiyu slapped your arm. “You idiot.”
“Okay, okay, sorry I’m late. I was getting some food.”
Jiyu’s tone changed immediately. “You did?”
“Yeah,” you said and opened your bag to show its contents. “Some drinks and some snacks.”
“Oh, dude, you’re awesome!”
“Shall we go?”
“Yes!”
The walk took longer than twenty minutes. You knew it would. Every five minutes you’d stop at the weird noises of nature around you. To you, it seemed like a creepy warning to turn around, but to Jiyu, it was just the wind.
“Hey, what’s that?” you asked, pointing at a dark spot moving around.
“It’s a rat.”
“Wait, what?”
“Mickey Mouse. It’s a mouse, but bigger.”
“No, I get that, but why is it here?”
“The weird kid of our neighbor caught one in the city and freed it here.”
“What if it had diseases?”
“It’s been here for like five years now and we’re fine, so I think it was healthy,” Jiyu said casually. “Actually, it’s pretty fat.”
As you moved away from the house, the scenery changed tremendously. The sky assumed an orange glow around the setting sun while the rest became a purplish blue. It was dark now and you couldn't see Jiyu as well as before, though her silhouette with the short hair was unmistakably her.
The wind was soft. It moved the strands of grass and her hair. It was hypnotizing—the way it hid and revealed her beautiful features. The lights of the houses were still on and were popping up like yellow dots as the natural light left faster and faster. The way they surrounded her looked almost like a movie, but you had never seen a frame as pretty as that one.
Jiyu led the way. Her movements were confident even in the dark. She moved like she was part of the wind. She didn't look down at her feet once. There was only you two now. You and the wind.
“I used to come out here when my parents were arguing about the harvest,” she said softly, her voice trailing off into the hiss of the breeze. “It wasn't really their fault,” she continued. “There are good years and tough years; it’s just how it is out here.”
You didn't want to pretend you understood what she was talking about. You listened to her—that was all you could do.
“I’d throw some food in my bag, get a flashlight, and run away. They knew everyone, so they weren't really scared. I felt like an explorer; everything was new to me.”
“Weren't you scared?” you asked.
“Of what? The trees? They’re much more behaved than people,” she laughed softly. “You know those trees over there?” she pointed to your left. You looked and nodded. “I used to climb them and lie down. It was really relaxing.”
“Did you always hang out here?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you… ever hang out with your friends?” you asked.
“I did, but…” Jiyu thought for a moment. “I didn't really fit in. They were really nice, actually. I was never bullied or anything, but I felt they were always going so fast.”
“Mmh, I understand what you’re saying,” you hummed. “City life is way too hectic.”
Jiyu slowed her pace. There was no pity nor patronizing attempt in your words. People usually looked at her as if she were a person of the past, an unfortunate person who had no idea what real life was like. An uneducated stranger.
“Actually, that’s what Grandma said about you as well.”
“Me?” you asked and stopped walking, pointing to your chest. “What did I do?”
Jiyu shook her hands and laughed. “No, it’s not bad, nothing like that. It’s just that you did things very fast.”
“Mmh, did I?”
“Yeah, and all the big words you said about university and technology confused her.”
You chuckled. “Well, I guess I did confuse her.”
“But it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
You weren't nervous anymore. You didn't care about how you looked anymore, mostly because it was dark and she wouldn't see you anyway, but also because she was there and she made you feel at ease. That was the effect she had on you. You listened to her describe the paths she used to follow as a kid and all her past experiences.
“You’re so slow,” Jiyu said teasingly.
“I’m watching where I’m going,” you shot back.
Jiyu turned around with a twirl. “You’re lifting your feet too high, just trust where you’re going, it’s not—”
Before she could finish her sentence, your sneaker caught an exposed root. You waved your arms in the air, trying to grasp at something, and tumbled over. You landed on the dry grass and hit your face against the dirt.
The bag decided to slide down your neck and fall on your head with all its contents inside.
You groan. There’s damp soil all over your skin. “Shit.”
You hear Jiyu’s footsteps come towards you. You expected a sympathetic hand on your shoulder or some words of worry, but instead, she started laughing at you. You pushed yourself up and brushed the dirty of your cheek just to see her pointing a mocking finger at you.
“Are you laughing at me?” you demanded. “I could have died.”
“Oh, come on,” she wheezed. “Don’t be that tragic.”
You looked down at your sleeve. There were dark streaks of dirt on your shirt around your elbows. What great luck you had. It was one of your new shirts as well. You spent such a long time picking this one out.
“Does it actually hurt?” Jiyu asked with a wide grin.
“No,” you grumbled. “Not really.”
Jiyu tilted her head. “So no need for me to kiss it better?”
“Actually, now that I think about it, it hurts so much,” you said. “It’s unbearable. I couldn’t tell at first because of the shock.”
“Oh, you’re perfectly fine,” she laughed, rolling her eyes.
“But my feelings are hurt,” you insisted. “You were laughing at me.”
Jiyu chuckled, letting her expression soften. “Okay, okay, poor baby.”
She came closer and hugged you. It was brief, but it left your skin tingling. As she pulled away, she adjusted the strap of your bag and gave you a firm pat on the back.
“Do you feel better now?”
You cleared your throat. “Yes. Much better.”
After a long but calming walk, you reached the summit of the ridge. The grass was soft like a carpet, just as she had said. After putting the lamp to the side, Jiyu dropped down immediately, hands behind her head, staring upward. For a moment, you hesitated, looking at the bag and at the towels you had brought, but decided to follow her example instead and settled beside her.
There was a full moon that night, and it made her skin look like marble. You couldn't help but look at Jiyu’s face. Under every different light, it was pretty in a different way.
“You know you’re supposed to look at the sky,” Jiyu said suddenly.
“Oh. Sorry,” you said briefly and turned to the sky. You looked back for an instant to see her rosy cheeks.
You finally saw them, and your breath was taken away. The stars. They weren't just a few dots. The darkness was shimmering with light. They stretched across the entire visible horizon, reaching far into the trees and distant landscapes.
“Wow,” you mumbled quietly.
“That’s the Great Bear,” Jiyu said, pointing a finger toward a cluster of light. “You see that?”
“No, not really.”
“Give me your hand.”
You got up and sat closer to her. Jiyu adjusted the lantern so she could see your palm. With her index finger, she drew the constellation on your hand. You looked back up and searched. She pointed to it and you finally noticed.
“It looks like a ladle,” she said.
“Oh, it does.”
“That’s how I remembered it, actually,” she admitted. “I had a book about constellations, but when I was little, I wasn't really into reading the words and instead just looked at the pictures.”
“I still do that,” you said, and she laughed.
“Orion—it looks like an archer,” she continued, and drew it on your hand again.
“This one is complex.”
“It really is. But it should be easier to spot.”
“Oh, I can see that.”
Jiyu smiled; she was happy to share her interest with someone who listened with genuine interest.
“I actually know a couple of things about it.”
“Ohhh, really?” Jiyu said, impressed.
“Legend has it that Orion had fallen in love with a princess. She had something to do with the stars. I think her father was the sky.”
“Mmmh.”
“Orion fell madly in love with her. But he was mortal. The princess would come down from the sky at night and talk with him. Each day, right after sunset and when the morning came, she would disappear.”
“Oh, so she liked him?”
“Very much so, but she was like a goddess, right? And he was just mortal. So it really angered her father.”
You looked at the stars, because if you looked at Jiyu, you’d just get distracted by her eyes.
“He tried to keep her away from him and warned Orion, but he would write letters and shoot them into the sky with his bow.”
“All the way to space?”
“Yeah, he had a very strong bow.”
Jiyu laughed. “Okay.”
“And one time, he made a deal with a witch. He got this big bird and let it fly to the sky while hanging from its feet so he could reach the princess.”
“And then?”
“And then, since he wanted it so bad and the dad hated him, the father cursed him and made him into a constellation. Because if he wanted to reach the stars so badly, he made him a star.”
“Wow,” Jiyu said. “Which culture is that from?”
“I made it up,” you said plainly.
“Be for real.”
“No, really, I just made it up. I wanted to say something cool. You seem to know everything, and I didn't have anything to say.”
“Oh, come on!” Jiyu groaned and shoved your shoulder. “You’re terrible! I was actually really getting into it.”
Deep down, Jiyu appreciated your attempt. You were participating in her life and were actually interested in what she was saying.
“Hey, it’s not a bad story. It could very well be a real story.”
“Whatever you say.”
Her words made you realize something. You had always been chasing that career, those grades, that future that they always told you about. Even when you went out with your friends, it was always bars and events; you never really sat still with them.
After a long time talking and eating snacks, you both got pretty sleepy. It was already very late. You checked your phone. Your eyes were burning, and she was feeling tired. You put out the towels and lied down.
You looked over at Jiyu. She was still lying on her back, but her shoulders were hunched up toward her ears, and she was hugging herself. Every few seconds, a tremor would shake her body.
“Jiyu,” you said softly. “You’re trembling.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “I’m fine,” she lied. “I can take it. I’m used to it.”
“You don’t seem so,” you replied.
She looked at you, a stray lock of hair blowing across her face. She looked smaller than she ever had when you were walking and talking. You hesitated. Maybe she didn't mind your presence. You thought about it—should you do it?
You could lose her right then, or your relationship could become deeper than it ever had been. You swallowed the lump in your throat and decided to risk it.
“Come closer then,” you said. “I’ll keep you warm.”
Jiyu was somewhat shocked by your words, but deep inside, she wanted it too. She stopped being strong and didn't need a second invitation. She tucked herself into your side, her head lying close to your shoulder. She still wasn't brave enough to hug you, but she wanted to be as close as possible.
You moved slowly, hesitantly, to test her reaction. Your arm hovered over her. She didn't say anything, and you lowered it onto her. You wrapped your arm around her and pulled her in until there wasn't a single gap between the two of you.
As you pulled her in, the world closed down to the small patch of grass beneath your bodies. Every other sound washed away, and you could only hear her breath brushing against you.
“Better?” you whispered.
“Still cold,” she murmured, but she smiled into your neck.
You rested your chin on the top of her head. Up close, she smelled like grass and sunshine, but there was definitely the scent of her conditioner mixed with it. Without really thinking about it, your hand found its way to her hair. You began to stroke it, tracing lines from the crown down to the nape of her neck.
You stopped for a second. What were you doing? You weren't at that stage yet. Did you do too much?
“Don’t stop,” you heard. You leaned down to make sure you had actually heard it.
Jiyu’s cheeks were red and she was desperately clinging to you. “Don’t stop,” she said again.
So you didn't. You put your hand back on her head and petted her. Jiyu sighed happily like a cat on your lap. You kept up the slow, steady motion of your hand in her hair. Jiyu’s grip on your shirt loosened as she fell asleep. She cuddled into you, and you did too.
She didn't need to be strong that night. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. She felt safe in your arms—enough to let you bear her weight, knowing you wouldn't let her fall. Your eyes grew heavy, and as you started to fall asleep, the last thing you saw was the ghost of Jiyu’s smile against your chest.
THE END
Always a Daddy's Girl
Daddy Kink Nayeon woo! I was hit with big, horny inspiration after being reminded of this picture. All smut, no story.
Length 2.1K
Nayeon X Mreader
The doll known as Nayeon sat before you, a teasing smile on her lips as she stared at you. She rubbed her legs together, already knowing what was to come. Her short black leather dress rode up, revealing her slick slit. The young woman before you didn’t bother to lower her dress; it would come off soon enough anyway. That and she knew the sight would be enough to make your cock stiff, and it was. “Already hard for me, Daddy?” She asks, teasing you once more. The little song and dance between the two of you was a classic.
“Do me a favor?”
Nayeon licks her lips, eyes shifting from meeting your gaze to the bulge in your pants and back again. “What is it you want?”
“Put that pretty mouth to good use.”
Nayeon chuckles; she didn’t have to be asked twice. “Daddy wants my pretty pink lips around his big, hard cock?” Nayeon asks, placing her hand over your bulge. Her tone was half mocking, half lustful. It was hard for her to resist you; even now, she felt a hunger within her. It was like her stomach was growling.
“Don’t make me say it again,”
“Yes, sir,” Nayeon jokes as she kneels before you, her hands moving quickly to remove your clothes, showing her impatience. The moment your cock sprang free was one of joy, even as it smacked her face. Nayeon let it rest on her as she took in a deep whiff of your scent. It was like a drug for her. One hand made its way to her slit, rubbing her wet folds as she opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out. Nayeon’s tongue traced your veins as she made her way to the tip, her hand wrapped around your length. You groan at her tight grip, watching as the young woman reaches the head of your cock, flicking the tip with her tongue. Nayeon’s hand slowly moved along your shaft as she gathered her saliva, her glossy pink lips stealing your attention. They part slowly, small bubbles popping up between them before her saliva drips onto the tip.
The young woman works her saliva across your cock, making it slick. While listening to your groans, she plants her full lips on the tip, tracing them with the head before slipping it inside. Nayeon keeps her lips tightly wrapped around your shaft as her tongue lashes against you. “Such a good girl,” you grunt. “You always know just what to do.”
“Pleasing Daddy is my job. I have to know what you like,” She says sweetly before returning to her work. Nayeon stares at you with big doe eyes as she bobs her head, taking more of your length with each turn. It would be cute if her act weren’t so lewd. You place your hand on her head, guiding her along, your cock settling into the back of her throat as she reaches your base. You can feel her throat vibrating around you; it amplifies the pleasure. You stare at Nayeon, watching as her lips curl upward. Even with your cock in her mouth, she can’t help but smile at her work. It certainly helped that her fingers were knuckle deep in her cunt. Nayeon continued to focus on you, her tongue snaking along the underside, following your veins as she pushed you closer to your orgasm. As Nayeon pulls away, strands of saliva keep the two of you connected.
“Where are you going to cum? Maybe down my throat?” Nayeon licks her fingers before running them down to her chin. She tilts her head back and moves her hand lower. Then she tilts her head, “Or does Daddy want to cum on his baby's pretty face?” Nayeon smiles at that option. As much as she could drink your cum for days, there was something about facials that turned her on even more.
“We’ll see,”
The lack of a clear answer disappoints Nayeon, but she gets back to pleasuring you. Her heartbeat quickens. You wouldn’t disappoint her, right? She was certain you would paint her pretty face with your thick white seed. When Nayeon went back to your cock, she worked quickly, slobbering all over it, going as far as rubbing it against her cheeks, making it clear what she wanted as she dirtied her face. As you got closer to cumming, your target became clear. Spit was already making its way down Nayeon’s cheeks; it wouldn’t hurt to paint her pretty face. You hurry the process along, grabbing the back of Nayeon’s head and forcing your cock down her throat. You thrust your hips forward, making her gag on you as you hit the back of her throat. Nayeon doesn’t fight you; she places one hand on your thigh while the other works her clit furiously. She was getting off on your roughness, even as her mind considered you might deny her a facial. She could feel your cock throbbing; you were close.
Moments before you came, you pulled out of Nayeon’s warm mouth. You jerked yourself off and began to paint your canvas. Nayeon felt the first spurt land across the bridge of her nose. The young woman tilted her head back, shut her eyes, and opened her mouth, making herself the perfect target. As more of your thick semen splattered across her face, Nayeon came. She pressed her legs together, trying to stay steady as you cover her eyelids and coat her forehead. You place the tip back into her open mouth, letting her taste the last spurt. Nayeon's tongue swirls around the tip as she savors your salty cum. As you take a step back to admire your work, Nayeon wipes the cum away from her eyes before turning towards a mirror, staring at her whorish appearance. She brings her fingers to her lips, tasting more of your cum.
Before she can say a word, you pick the young woman up, carrying her bridal style to her bedroom. You toss her onto the bed, making her lie on her stomach as you unzip her dress and strip it off her.
Nayeon rises onto all fours, “Do it, Daddy. Put that big juicy cock in me,” Nayeon cooed, one hand on her cheek, pulling it away from her core. She shook her ass for you, making the prospect even more tantalizing. You had had enough waiting; you brought your hand down on Nayeon’s ass, making her flesh ripple. Nayeon sucks in a breath, then expels it, letting out a loud moan as you drive yourself deep into her cunt. “Fuck,” she groans as you squeeze her soft cheek, your other hand wrapping around her hair, pulling it back. Nayeon’s legs shook as she felt you splitting apart her warm, slick folds. The pleasure was mind-numbing for the young woman. Considering she had been waiting for your arrival, this moment was nothing but pure bliss for her. You were practically being pulled in, and you had no complaints. “Oh, Daddy, you’re so big,” she mumbles, hands gripping the bedsheets tightly as she plants her face against the bed, her back arching deeply. You yank on her hair, keeping her head up, as you thrust into her welcoming cunt. Each one pushes her petite body further into the bed. You bring your hand down on her ass once more, the sting from your strike adding to her pleasure.
“You were waiting for this, weren’t you?”
“All fucking day. It’s your fault. I wouldn’t be like this if Daddy didn’t have such a good cock. It’s all I can think about.” Nayeon responds through heavy moans. You spank her again, her cheek turning a bright red as you add in a fourth strike. “I need it so bad, Daddy.”
Nayeon slips her hand between her legs, her long fingers stroking her clit as you slide in and out of her tight, warm cavern. “Harder, fuck me harder,” Nayeon moans, tongue hanging out of her mouth as you bring your hand down on her ass again. As your thrusts speed up, Nayeon’s body tingle, pleasure coursing through her. As much as you want to keep pulling on her hair, you gave up your grip on it. You place your hands on her waist; each movement from you fills the room with more moans from the young woman. Nayeon bites the bedding, muffling her moans a touch as her climax builds inside her. Feeling the pressure building within her, Nayeon grabs the sheets. Any more pleasure with her fingers would send her over the edge too quickly, and while she knew you’d keep going anyway, she didn’t want to be driven crazy with the overstimulation. At least not yet.
Nayeon’s attempts to keep herself from cumming too quickly were useless; your fingers replaced her, rubbing her aching clit as your thrust continued to fill her. Nayeon whined in her high-pitched voice, taking over as she got closer. You stretch your arm out, your fingers by her plump lips. You push your fingers past the barrier, hooking her mouth. Nayeon uses what little strength she has to push herself up. You feel her tongue lashing against your fingers as her walls tighten around you. “Go on, cum. I know you’re already close. Daddy is giving you permission.”
Nayeon cries out, her body shuddering as she cums on your cock. Her walls squeeze you like a vice as you continue to impale her with every thrust. “Oh God,” Nayeon says in a long, drawn-out moan. The pleasure she feels reaches a new peak as she’s overstimulated. The fingers around her clit speed up, making her body tense up as another orgasm begins building. You add to the pleasure, bringing your hand out of her mouth and playing with her modest mounds. You pinch and pull at Nayeon’s soft nipples, feeling them grow hard as you play with them. “D-daddy,” Nayeon mumbles, unable to say anything more as you tug on the now hard nub. “Ooh, fuck.” Nayeon's breathing is ragged; she shuts her eyes tightly as a second climax washes over her. Her cries of pleasure are music to your ears.
You pull Nayeon against you, continuing to play with her body as you near your climax. Nayeon’s walls try to milk you, squeezing you tightly. You shift your hands to her waist, fingers digging into her soft flesh as you bury yourself inside Nayeon. The young woman cries out again as she feels your warm, thick cum spurting into her, painting her walls as you claim her. Nayeon falls forward, collapsing onto the bed as she feels your semen flooding her body, its warmth spreading slowly. “You get tired so quickly, baby.”
“It’s your fault.” Nayeon huffs, trying to catch her breath as you give her small thrusts. “Y-you’re too much.” Nayeon’s voice goes into a high whine as you bury yourself in her again. You turn the young woman onto her side and lean over her, pressing your lips against hers. “Don’t try to act sweet now,” she mumbles between kisses. “You just fucked me like a piece of meat.” Nayeon’s body shivers as your hand wanders along her back. You nip at Nayeon’s neck as you drag your fingertips along her back.
“You love it.” Nayeon did; she loved every second of it. She avoids your gaze, “Think you can go one more round?”
“Mm, one more,” Nayeon says, raising a single finger. “Just one more!” Nayeon moans as you rapidly plunge back into the depths of her cunt. “Fuck, just like that.” Nayeon’s slick walls offer little resistance, allowing you to slide deep into her with ease. With her legs pressed together, the pressure you feel is greater. You put more strength into your thrusts. Nayeon’s body starts to lurch forward, her moans growing louder as she feels you reaching her depths. You grab onto one of her arms, pulling her back as you continue to ravage her. Nayeon’s high-pitched whines begin to crescendo as she nears her climax. You lean forward, stealing a kiss from the young woman. She doesn’t resist, can’t resist, and wouldn’t resist in this moment. She wanted you as much as you wanted her. Your tongues fold and press against each other as you give one final thrust, burying your throbbing cock inside Nayeon.
Nayeon’s body tenses, her senses overwhelmed as she feels you flooding her womb with another load of cum. She cums with you, her nectar coating your cock and leaking onto the bedding below. When you break the kiss, she lets out a long, contented sigh. Nayeon’s hands find a place on her chest, squeezing the soft mounds as she revels in the pleasure of her latest orgasm. You drag your length out of Nayeon slowly, her walls still gripping you tightly. “Looks like you still want more.”
“You’re going to wear me out,” Nayeon says softly. “You don’t want to fuck a girl to exhaustion, do you, Daddy?” Nayeon asks, a devilish smile on her lips. You return the smile and push back into her; the two of you are far from done.
Damn look at those abs and those thighs...
I’m sorry, Wonyoung. I was completely in the wrong for being so down bad for other girls instead of you lately 🙏🙏🙏
Dude she's bad as fuck
https://www.tumblr.com/midatwrtr/816169932870041600/do-you-have-any-plans-to-write-the-next-episode-of
She looks like she's going to work at a sex toy store lol
lol she probably emptied one
but she's a great student, she'll have a bright future
ah, by the way i'm on fanprose
If you and an idol were in a lifeboat floating at sea, waiting to be rescued, and it was suggested that you have sex to pass the time; which idol(s) would you want to be in the lifeboat with?
so just who i want to fuck?
you already know lol
here's another one:
Do you have any plans to write the next episode of Moka's Secret?
What kind of toy does she have other than handcuffs?
hi anon,
thank you for reading the fic!
damn already asking for a new episode. i just published it, i have no plans for a sequel lmao i need a break
moka has plenty of toys: dildos of various sizes, vibrators, massage guns, clit suckers... however, she loves you the most. nothing feels as good as the real thing
pretty sure she'll get more stuff for her boyfriend like a spanking kit and some cute lingerie
crush (along with alcohol and tobacco)
sullyoon x male reader
7.1k words
You have a crush on Seol Yoona, let's start with this fact first.
She's deadly gorgeous — her eyes, her nose, her lips. You're as tall as she is, but the aura she emanates makes you feel like you're five centimeters shorter. She's a year above you, and that just makes the entire ordeal better for you. It's your thing — being dominated at everything by a woman. Therefore, Seol Yoona, or Sullyoon, is just flawless in your eyes.
You don't even dare to look at her when you walk past each other in the hallway. You just hide behind your friends cowardly, and you hope that she'd notice you amongst the crowd one day. There's a conflict between your actions and your desire, apparently, but you just can't help getting flustered and becoming mute when she's in your proximity.
The chance presents itself eventually. It can't be more of an open chance than this one.
"Have you seen the pair list for the trip yet?" Taesan asks you. His hands are on the steering wheel, driving you to the faculty as usual. You help him with fuel costs from time to time.
"Not yet. I probably got paired with someone I don't know." You shrug, scrolling through your Reddit feed. There are a few memes and a few posts about the games you're still playing in your freshman year. "We'll forget each other in a week, so, like, what's the appeal of knowing it now?"
"You're fucking pessimistic, dude. Maybe you have one of those pretty sophomores as your partner!" Taesan encourages you as the car enters the campus. "What's her name again? Yoon?"
"Sullyoon, and what's the chance? Two? Three percent? What's one hundred divided by thirty-eight—"
"Sometimes you just gotta believe, man," Taesan cuts you off cleanly. He's like a lighthouse for your sailboat in a thunderstorm. "And it's over ten percent. If you get one of the dance club members, they might help you get to Yoon as well!"
"Sullyoon. Yoon is the debate club president," you correct Taesan, though you're opening the group chat now. The trip's main document is the latest message.
"Yeah, Sullyoon," and he pauses to make a turn before continuing. "Anyway, the key point is: you have to trust your luck. I'm sure you'll—"
"Holy fucking fuck."
"Told ya, is it one of the—"
"It's Sullyoon!" you shout into the small confines of Taesan's car, seeing your name to the right of Seol Yoona on the list. You examine again to make sure that you didn't hallucinate, and it's really you and Sullyoon! You're being paired together for the trip this summer break!
You can barely comprehend the notion of you actually conversing with her — the topic, the tone, the personality, her eyes, her nose, her lips. Fuck, even the idea of you being close to her felt so far-fetched just mere minutes ago, and now, you're finally going to get to know her!
"I'm gonna cum."
"At least get out of the car first."
---
"Aren't you gonna go sit with her?" Taesan asks you, and you open your eyes from the attempt to get a pleasant sleep on the way to the destination. "The middle of the bus is also, like, the safest place?"
You blink a few times to get yourself back to your senses before replying, "We die together!"
Taesan gives you a look that makes you rethink your decisions, and the courage starts to flow in, even if it's just a bit. "That's probably the worst excuse you could've given me. I'm kicking you out of this seat."
"No, you can't."
"Your loss, then," Taesan scoffs, and he gives you another decision-altering look.
"What if she says no? That's gonna ruin the whole trip for me!" you whine, and you know that you're just delaying the inevitable of actually talking to her for the first time at this point.
Taesan purses his lips for a while before answering, "You don't know the outcome yet." He shrugs, looking for Sullyoon, who's still sitting by herself in the middle row. "Don't live to regret this."
You look at Sullyoon sitting a few rows in front of you like Taesan does, and to be frank, his words are pretty damn reasonable here. It's a slim chance against no chance at all to sit next to her for the first half of the trip.
"Fine," you concede, and you get up from your seat.
Each step feels too heavy than it should be. Your eyes lock onto the back of Sullyoon's head. Her hair is done in a ponytail today. She looks pretty like this. In fact, she looks pretty in every hairstyle. You trudge towards her row slowly, trying not to let her out of sight. Each second feels awfully long and tormenting, and you just reel through the possibilities of your first conversation with her. You keep reminding yourself that you have to ask for the vacancy of the seat beside her.
Until you're right beside her.
"Uh," you manage with all of your consciousness and energy. Sullyoon turns to you. "Hey, Miss Seol."
"Hey!" she greets you with a polite smile. "What's up?"
"I was gonna ask," and a pause. You can't believe you're having a conversation with her like this. With sheer willpower, you continue, "If I could sit here, since we're partners for the trip."
Sullyoon's eyes widen. "Oh, you're my freshman! Sure!" and she pats the seat beside her invitingly. "I'll tell Bae to sit somewhere else."
"Oh, I can just—"
"Please, and we've never talked prior to this, right? We can get to know each other here!" Sullyoon persuades, and her eyes give the impression that she wants your company. You just cannot decline the heavenly offer granted by the stars.
"Uh, okay." You settle yourself beside Sullyoon cautiously, trying not to humiliate yourself with your awkward movements. "Can Miss Bae sit with my friend?"
"Sure thing! Where's your friend?"
"Uh," and turn back to Taesan, who's watching your shenanigans happily. "He's there." You point at him.
"Alright, I'll message her."'
You keep thinking of ways that you can fumble this, and you just can't seem to stop it. Still, having Sullyoon this close to you after just a few words makes your heart flutter, and you have to hold back your smile for the entire trip.
---
"What's that on your phone?" Sullyoon asks. It's about half an hour into the ride. You appreciate the fact that she takes interests about your phone's background.
"The wallpaper?" and you tilt your phone to her a bit, making sure that she can see your screen.
"Yeah. Is it a movie poster?"
"Aftersun, yeah. I watched it a few years ago, and it just stuck in my head ever since."
It's an honest answer. Aftersun is an influential film to you. You saw it at a theater when it was initially released, and you just can't get it out of your brain somehow. It's a five-star film, really.
"Never heard of it before," Sullyoon says with a chuckle. "I'm not good at movies, to be honest."
Bravely, you reply, "I can help you with that if you want," and you chuckle a bit, diluting the seriousness of your words. You're trying not to look too cocky with your cinema knowledge here.
"I'd say yes if I had time," Sullyoon answers. "Please don't take it to heart. It's just that: I have so many fucking things going on in my life."
"Sorry to hear that," you respond in an attempt to empathize. "I don't take it personally, don't worry."
Sullyoon smiles before showing you her wallpaper. There are some Japanese letters that you can't translate and a few cars that you find cute. The overall image looks rather green-tinted. "I took this myself."
"With, like, a camera?"
"Yeah, it was from my trip to Tokyo," and Sullyoon pulls her phone back, seemingly searching for something. "Let me find the album, uh, here!"
You look at a bright image of the buildings of Tokyo. The composition and the lighting look good to you.
"Wow," you utter. "It's gorgeous."
Sullyoon smiles again. "Thanks. This is one of the better ones. I'm, like, really proud of it."
You can't help but smile along with her. Sullyoon continues to show you the images from her trip, and they truly are eye candy. You shower her with praise for her photography skills. You learn about the camera she uses. She learns about your love for Aftersun a little more. The conversation goes back and forth throughout the ride, and you're so fucking proud of yourself that you asked for this seat in the first place.
You're winning Seol Yoona's heart.
---
The bus stops at the mandatory resting point for lunch. You've been here a few times with your family before. It looks a tad different from what you've remembered, though you appreciate the fact that you get to use the bathroom and have a few pieces of pizza.
"So, how do you guys know each other?" Bae asks, biting off a piece of pepperoni she's holding. Sullyoon is sitting beside her, munching on a piece of double cheese.
"We live in the same dorm. He was searching for someone who lived there in the group chat, and I contacted him," Taesan answers, and you're nodding along with his words to confirm the legitimacy of the story. "And I drive him to campus on the days that we don't skip our classes," he continues with a chuckle, earning a boisterous laugh from Bae.
"You're skipping classes as freshmen?" Sullyoon quizzes.
Not wanting to look like a pair of irresponsible students in Sullyoon's eyes, you hastily refute his claim, "No, no, no, he was just joking."
Sullyoon nods approvingly before biting off her double cheese again. "I wish I had the fire like you guys," she says. "You kinda lose the energy with time, you know."
Not knowing how to answer, you just smile back at her. Then, you go back to the piece of pepperoni in your hand again, hoping that when you and Taesan become sophomores, you can be good examples for the future freshmen.
"Taesan, you have a, uh, sauce?" Bae starts, then she pulls a piece of paper out of a box for him. "Left side."
---
"So, why do you like photography?" you start at some time into the second half of the ride. It has been a while of silence playing on your phones, and you don't want to look too antisocial here.
"It's my mom," and Sullyoon looks up from her phone. The afternoon light from outside the bus is making a good angle with her face. She just looks gorgeous like this — her brown hair, her eyes, her voice. "She's a photographer, and she taught me about cameras and how to take photos."
You nod along with her words. "Cool. My mom is a chef."
"That's cool, too. Does this mean you can cook well?" Sullyoon asks. Her head is tilted a little in curiosity.
"I can make a Thai omelette. Is that enough?" you joke back, eliciting a chuckle from Sullyoon.
"Not a very suitable set of skills for today's dinner, I'd say," Sullyoon says, and she leans in closer to you. Your heart races at the unexpected proximity, and you use all your willpower to stay still. Though it turns out that she's just whispering you a spoiler for today's dinner. "I'm not supposed to tell a freshman, but we're having barbecue tonight."
You can smell her perfume — summer.
Your muscles relax once Sullyoon pulls her mouth away from your ear. You take some time to process her words. It's a barbecue. There'll be a grill. There'll be fire.
"Will there be beer as well?" you ask, only to realize how much of an alcoholic you're being in front of your crush. Fuck.
Sullyoon laughs. Her voice dips a tad deeper than usual, but it's devastatingly attractive to your ears. "Isn't that, like, the whole point of this trip? Getting wasted together and floating around in a pool?"
"Fair point," you reply, and the image of a drenched Sullyoon plagues your mind in an instant — clothes clinging to her skin, wet hair, her curves. Maybe you'll be making out with her in the water with your breath smelling like wheat and rye. You'll hold her close to your body as you kiss her with need. You'll—
"I still have to make sure of your safety, though, so don't drink too much. I can't deal with the faculty and your parents," Sullyoon half-jokes and half-pleads, pulling you away out of the fantasy. You understand her burden, of course, and you're going to be taking care of a freshman next year as well. You don't want physics-bending karma to come back and bite you in your ass.
"Sure, Miss Seol."
"Please, just call me Sullyoon," she urges. "Seriously, I feel like a fucking historical artifact being called Miss Seol, and I think I trust you enough now."
You get confused a bit at the idea of Sullyoon trusting you. Alas, it has been only a few hours since your first conversation. Nonetheless, you can jump out of this bus onto the road and ruin a car's windshield with this level of ecstasy. Seol Yoona trusts you, and that's probably another quest completed on the way to being her younger and slightly shorter boyfriend.
"Yeah, uh, okay, Sullyoon," you manage, doing your best to hide the joy inside your heart. It works for a while. At the moment Sullyoon turns away, you ball your hands into fists to celebrate the worthwhile event quietly out of her sight.
---
After a while, your view of the side of the bus becomes stores and houses planted along the road. There are some traffic lights on the way to your accommodation, as opposed to none on the highway earlier. You've just entered the metropolitan area of the town.
It doesn't take long before the bus turns into a small street. In the front, there are a bunch of rest houses sitting beside the alley. You see pools behind the wall of a house. Your bus stops eventually, and being nearest to the exit, you're the first to get off the vehicle.
"Hey," Sullyoon calls, and you turn back to her, not forgetting to leave the walkway space for a few people to walk past you towards the exit. "Can I have your number?"
Your mouth hangs open slightly in shock as Sullyoon locks her doe eyes with yours. Seol Yoona just asked for your number, and you can't fucking believe this. Your hands are still operating, at least, as you just whip out your phone from your pocket and touch the top of it with Sullyoon's.
Your phone vibrates slightly as her contact appears on your screen. The profile picture is her ID picture, you think. It looks so formal, with Sullyoon as her display name.
"Great, I'll message you when we're ready," Sullyoon says with a nod. "Or you can just come by and hang around first. Either way works."
"Sure, I'll put my stuff in my bedroom and go to you guys," you assure her, and she seems to be happy with that.
---
Sullyoon's house looks just like yours. It's not even mirrored. There's a pool table on the left side of the entrance. You can walk into the house a bit to find a pool filled with water on the right. The television is in the same position. There's a fridge beside it. The clock says that it's about four in the evening. Still, Sullyoon is nowhere to be seen, so you just settle yourself on the couch in the middle of the room meekly.
After a while, a door beside the television opens, and someone comes out of it.
She's not Sullyoon, though — a bit shorter, sharper face. It's Oh Haewon, still in her bus clothes of a Hawaiian shirt and jeans.
In Sullyoon's social circle, she spends most of her time with five women: Lily Morrow, Oh Haewon, Bae Jinsol, Kim Jiwoo, and Jang Kyujin. They're in the engineering dance club together, after all. You've seen their performances at a number of events: the orientation day, the international night, and now, the house trip. In your humble opinion, they're deathly beautiful in their own styles, and in reality, so many people have crushes on them. Though none of them have ever made a single move out of fear and anxiety.
In the group, Sullyoon is the most popular, with Haewon coming in a close second ranking. It's more of a preference whether you prefer the cute, innocuous vibe of Sullyoon or the tomboyish, vulgar vibe of Haewon. You find yourself more fitting to Sullyoon's energy, though it's not that you find Haewon any less gorgeous.
"Hey," Haewon greets you with a small nod. "Sullyoon's partner, right?"
You gulp. "Yeah, I, uh, she told me that I can be here, so I'm here."
Haewon nods again receptively before walking towards the couch. She sits down not too far from you, and she grabs the remote to play something.
"Oh, there's Netflix," Haewon mutters, and she clicks on the icon. It brings her to a login screen, however. "Damn."
"I have Netflix," you blurt out in an effort to help Haewon.
"Aren't you staying at that house?" Haewon asks, pointing back to your villa. "What? Are you and Sullyoon secretly fucking or something?" She shoots you a suspicious look, seemingly piqued by the notion of your trysts with her friend.
You can't say a word as your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open. Your body freezes in your seat, unsure of how to respond to the fuckery Haewon just uttered. It's as if your heart just stops for a few seconds just to process Haewon's awfully forward question.
"What?" you manage, utterly and completely shocked. "We're not—"
Suddenly, Haewon bursts out into a boisterous laugh, moving from side to side in her seat. "Fucking hell, I'm sorry," and she reaches out towards you, pacifying the situation. "I know you guys just met. I was just fucking with ya, sorry again."
Your expression dissolves into a shy laugh along with Haewon. "Oh, well," you mutter between chuckles. "That's quite a welcome."
"Yeah, I shouldn't, no, I wouldn't do it if I had known," Haewon says as her laugh softens into a smile. She then hands you the remote in her hand. "Here, log in with your Netflix."
"Thanks," and you take the remote from Haewon. Your heartbeat slows down a bit, and you start working on logging into the pool villa's Netflix with your account that you're sharing with Taesan and a few of your friends.
"Well, with that out of the way," Haewon restarts the conversation. She scoots a little closer towards you, and you tense up again. Your fingers tremble slightly on your phone while trying to access your Netflix account. "Do you like Sullyoon? Like, as your senior match or whatever."
"She's wonderful! I like her vibe," you answer honestly, alternating your eyes between Haewon, your phone, and the television. It's quite a sensory overload here. "She's so kind to me."
"Yeah, she's lovely all around. It's her expertise," Haewon says, sinking herself into the cushion of the couch. "You two will get along, don't worry."
"I hope so."
You finally link your account to the television, and Haewon claps merrily at the success. The screen shows a few algorithmic suggestions, and it's clear that you're a film buff.
"Do you have any hate-watching suggestions while we're drunk?" Haewon asks.
"The Room, I think?"
"I believe you," and Haewon does a finger gun pointing at you. You just smile at her.
---
The sizzling from the grill fills the night air along with the splashes of water in the pool. The outdoor area of Sullyoon's house smells of cooked meat and beer. You're sitting in a chair shyly, scrolling Twitter as alcohol begins to set in. There are a few freshmen, including Taesan, and sophomores, including Bae, playing in the pool together. You and Sullyoon remain on the land still, talking about tedious topics and interests that become interesting just because it's Seol Yoona you're talking to.
"How has your freshman year been?" Sullyoon asks, swirling the contents of her can around a bit, and she takes a sip.
"It's fine, I guess," you respond without looking up from your phone. "Took some time before I settled in, even with Taesan."
Sullyoon chuckles. "I get it — new environment, new friends, yadda yadda." She takes a bite off her barbecue stick — green pepper — and Sullyoon asks you more with her mouth full of food, "Did anyone come with you? Like, from the same high school."
You look up from your phone to meet Sullyoon's eyes before answering, "Nope, I'm alone here. Was really lucky I met him in that dorm group."
Sullyoon nods at the same time a splash of water lands on her feet, and she flinches a little. You look at the pool to find Bae and Taesan smiling apologetically.
"Sorry," Bae says from the water. Sullyoon just accepts her apology with a nod.
"Anyway," Sullyoon restarts, turning back to you. The can of beer is still staying in her hand, and she takes another swig. "Let's talk about something more personal."
You look at her, puzzled by her statement. "Wasn't that already personal?" and you let out a chuckle to lighten the seriousness of the statement. You don't want her to feel intimidated by your words.
Sullyoon laughs, seemingly a little drunk now. "There are more personal things than you settling into college life, you know?"
You're still too shy with two cans of beer in your veins. However, you really want to get to know Sullyoon better than this. You can feel your vision getting a tad blurry, but she remains as gorgeous as ever — her eyes, her hair, her lips. God, you just want her to pin you against the wall and start whispering dehumanizing insults into your ear.
"I don't have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, if that's what you wanna know," you declare, picking up the can to take a sip out of shyness. You wonder how and why the hell you said that. It's not like you look good enough to have a romantic life.
Sullyoon chuckles, fidgeting with her almost-empty can. "Me too." You register the intoxication in her eyes and tone, eventually. Her off-the-perfect-cadence giggles ring in your ear canals against the noise from the pool and the grill. "I've been on a few dates in college, and they're all just fucking boring."
"Boring?" you probe her a bit.
Sullyoon stands up from the opposite seat, and she sashays towards another chair next to you. The act makes your inhibitions drop slightly — proximity and all. She reaches for the can of beer back at her seat, and you see how defined her arm muscles are — curves, veins, and strength. You'd really like her to lock your head with that.
"Yeah, they're" — she takes another sip — "they always try to please me, and I can see through that."
"Like, uh, what usually happens?" you ask more questions without much self-doubt. The tendency to second-guess your words seems to disappear bit by bit.
Sullyoon scoffs, then there's another sip before she answers, "They act weird. I don't know how to describe it." Sullyoon looks up into the sky, reiterating her thoughts, and you follow her vision to see the stars flickering on the pitch-black blanket of the nocturne. "They just don't stay true to themselves! Yeah, that's the word."
You ponder her words. Not staying true to oneself is something that you oppose, obviously, but you also have some concern if you're falling into that category by falling for her as well — agreeing to everything she says and pretending to be someone else.
"Do you think I act weird?" you blurt out in your drunken stupor. You're a tad concerned about dishonesty, and maybe you'd get a free compliment from her for being yourself for the last 12 hours since the first encounter.
"Do you have a crush on me or something?" Sullyoon teases, looking at you with playfulness in her eyes. That smirk is killing you. "Why the fuck would you even ask that?" and she chuckles lightly.
Your eyes widen as you regain your senses for a few seconds. Her words are powerful, and you just can't answer the question she's using to interrogate your heart. All that you can do is take a sip from your can to hide the color on your cheeks.
You don't register Sullyoon's hand on your shoulder for the first second of contact. Again, the alcohol is setting in hastily. Still, your heart beats faster when her body scent reaches your nose — sweat, perfume, and some beer — and you almost choke on your drink. Your hands tremble under the weight of reality and closeness. Her mouth is agape, as if ready to do something unpredictable. You look into her eyes. There is a lot that's going on in her pupils — energy, mischief, and perhaps some desire.
You stammer out, "Come, come again?" She smells so fucking wonderful, and you wouldn't mind one bit if she calls you weird as an answer.
Then, Sullyoon just chuckles in front of your face, and you just look at her, confused.
"Just messing with ya," she utters with a smile before pulling herself away from you. Sullyoon then clinks her can with yours gently. "I'm drunk as hell now, so please excuse me."
Shakily, you bring the can to your mouth again for another sip while chuckling awkwardly.
"And no, I don't think you act weird around me," Sullyoon says.
Your heart flutters at her answer. The urge to jump into the pool out of joy is strong, but you remain mostly still as you ask her, "Really?"
Sullyoon shrugs. "Yeah, at least from what I see, I think you're often honest."
"Often?"
Another splash of pool water finds your feet and Sullyoon's. Both of you jump at the coldness, and Sullyoon goes a little further than you by hissing at the swimmers.
She turns back to meet your eyes. "I think we're gonna get all wet by the time I finish explaining this frequency adjective to you," Sullyoon states, tilting her head slightly towards the sliding doors, and you get the notion in that instant.
"We're just gonna sit on the couch and watch The Room, right?"
"What the fuck is The Room?"
"I did not hit her, it's not true! It's bullshit! I did not hit her!" Tommy then throws his water bottle away. "I did not. Oh hi, Mark."
"Oh, hey Johnny, what's up?"
Sullyoon nods beside you on the living room couch, a different can of beer that's almost full in her hand. "I see the appeal now."
"There are a bunch of weird dialogues like this, by the way. This is just one of them," you add, taking a chug off your can. "It's a fucking goldmine."
Sullyoon smiles back at you. "Splendid."
---
"Do you actually smoke?"
"This is Haewon's."
"Where are yours?"
"I don't smoke."
There are two cans of beer sitting idly on the marble sink. The area of this room is generally too small for two people, but with this amount of distance, you're fitting into it perfectly. There's the smell of scented candles that reminds you of serenity, but again, the ecstasy you've been chasing is already in front of you.
"I'm not trying this," you decline with a profuse shake of your head.
"Weren't you chugging beer like crazy earlier?" Sullyoon scoffs, breath smells of fermented wheat. She picks up a lighter to ignite the cigarette in her hand. A line of smoke rises from the opposite end from where her fingers are holding it.
"It wasn't that crazy, to be fair," you whine back. "This is, like, my, uh."
Sullyoon laughs in your face with visible signs of late-stage intoxication: lack of balance, unfocused eyes, shaky hands. "It's your eighth can tonight, by the way," and she points her thumb to the side, to the cans on the sink.
She keeps track of your beer consumption history, apparently, and you tease back, giggling, "You like me enough to count?"
"What do you think?" she plays coy, bringing the stick closer to the mouth. She doesn't take a drag yet, and you just observe the light at the end of it flickering in a slow rhythm. "Am I being a responsible sophomore, or am I having a crush on a person whom I've just met this morning?"
And you're snapped back into reality for a heartbeat. Within that timeframe, it's clear that you need more time and familiarity with Sullyoon to build her trust. You're a bit gutted that it's not so soon, to be honest, but you just hide any trace of that feeling with a small laugh.
"A person can dream, I guess," you blurt out, so unaware of how cocky you look.
"Yeah, I know I'm hot," Sullyoon scoffs, and her lips finally touch the cigarette. You watch her suck in air through her mouth. It's devastatingly attractive. Then, a puff of smoke hits your face, eliciting a few coughs from you, and you wonder how the hell she doesn't struggle with taking a drag.
"That wasn't" — and there's another cough — "hot."
"You're being obtuse," Sullyoon scoffs again. You're irked by her confidence a bit, but a part of you also finds that, in a sense, hot.
"I don't wanna get cancer," you deflect, trying your best to look strong in front of Sullyoon. Still, with this shorter height and younger age, you probably look deathly cute to her instead of intimidating. To make matters worse, she's ruffling your hair with a smile that's just making your muscles go wobbly against the bathroom door.
"You're a terrible liar," Sullyoon jokes. "I'll show you something."
Sullyoon takes another drag — soft, awfully quiet, glittering at the tip of her stick. She brings her other hand up to your mouth, and you flinch a bit out of the last remnants of your humility. Still, Sullyoon's thumb chases your lips and pries your mouth open gently. You loosen your jaw as her face moves closer towards yours.
A puff of white cloud leaves her mouth with a small push of air from her lungs, and you close your eyes once it reaches you. You block your trachea. The gust just rages in your mouth, and you let it stay there for a bit. You think you've seen this before — Joachim Trier's lens. And if your memory isn't too fuzzy and altered, what Sullyoon is doing to you right now looks stunningly ethereal.
Her breath is hot against your face. Her thumb burns your lips. Her smoke scorches the inside of your cheeks. It's one chillingly gorgeous spectacle if someone happens to stumble into this bathroom — the closeness, the white curls, the cadence of her chuckle afterwards. Seol Yoona is blowing smoke from her mouth into yours.
And you're pretty sure that Renate and Herbert are going to be ecstatic seeing you and Sullyoon reenacting their image.
A few heartbeats later, you blow a gust out of your lungs and open your eyes again. You're greeted with the sight of the dissolving vapor in front of Sullyoon's angelic features. She chuckles heartily, and she doesn't make a scene of brushing the cloud away. Her thumb is still on your lips, prying your mouth open with minimal force. She looks dreadfully pretty under the bathroom light and a layer of white puff.
"It's called shotgunning, I think," Sullyoon finally breaks the silence, and you just hum back at her as an affirmation. "I like it when we just stay like this."
"Like what?" you utter dumbly. Your brain seems to be completely fried from that puff, and you can only repeat her words and express agreement at this point.
"Close, but not too close," Sullyoon huffs before taking another drag, then there's another shotgunning. The cloud spins in your mouth, and you push it out softly. The whiteness dissipates into Sullyoon smiling in front of you and continuing her answer, "It's thrilling."
You're all dazed and enchanted by her spell — smoke and perfume. Your heart is yearning for more of her touch than just the thumb on your lips and the white puffs. You want to chase her lips, but the threat of losing her wholly looms over you. This entire thing is a thriller, honestly.
You gulp. "We're going to do this until—"
"It burns out, yeah," and Sullyoon winks. "Fun, isn't it?"
You rest your back against the door. "Then what?"
Sullyoon scoffs, and she ruffles your hair again tenderly. You just melt without an ounce of resistance — wobbly legs, slack arms. Her other hand is still holding the stick between her fingers. There's a line of smoke floating from the bright end.
"I don't know, really," Sullyoon answers your question, hand leaving your hair and reaching for her beer on the side. Your eyes are locked on the light from her cigarette, only to be told, "Look at me, pretty boy."
The name sends a shiver down your spine, obviously, and you shift your gaze back to her. She looks gorgeous as always: eyes, nose, lips. Now, with the label, you'd really love to just let her do whatever the hell she pleases with you.
"You look like a delicacy," Sullyoon says, and she takes another sip off her can. The alcohol helps your heart from beating too fast from the notion of you being her metaphorical dinner to satiate her apparent lust. "I wanna fucking devour you, to be honest."
Her eyes are still locked on yours. The duration of the prolonged eye contact should make you feel uneasy under sobriety, but you're leaning in closer towards Sullyoon as she puts her can away from her mouth. You're met with the sight of her wet lips glistening in the low light of the bathroom. Suddenly, however, Sullyoon pushes you back with her beer can against the door, eliciting a moan out of your mouth, knocking the air out of your lungs.
"Do as I say, pretty boy," Sullyoon commands, moving so awfully close to you that her lips almost touch yours. She doesn't make a show of smoking into your mouth anymore. The distance is gnawing at your heart, but with that assertion, you don't dare closing that gap.
You smile weakly with the surmounting excitement running in your veins. It's really happening right now — the golden, clear-cut chance with your crush. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. Your fingers quiver incessantly. Your pupils are certainly dilating.
Still, the playful edge in you emerges for a bit. "What if I don't?"
Sullyoon smirks, and a scoff leaves her mouth. "I'm sure you're not that stupid, right?"
"Definitely," and you chuckle in her face. It's disgustingly brave. "Maybe."
Sullyoon tilts her head a bit, then she faux begs, "Take off your shorts, pretty please?"
There's a certain kind of teasing in your movements as you remove the garments from your waist. It's to your best knowledge from being an engineering student. It's to your utmost ability to move when having a beer can on your chest and the bathroom door on your back. You don't really expect her to be more aroused by the swaying of your hips or the sultry-drunk expressions from you.
Sullyoon smiles at your enthusiasm, at least. You're elated with that. Then, she peers down to see your lush hair seeping from under the shorts.
"You don't even trim it," she states, still pinning you against the door with her beer can. The force lessens a bit, though. "Fucking disgusting," and she completes her insult with a devilish smile.
You push your boxers and shorts down further, lifting your legs to help with the removal. At a certain point, your cock springs out with eagerness, spreading precum over her casual clothes. Your body is shivering with anticipation and anxiety, while Sullyoon observes the entirety of you, taking a few drags and blowing the smoke onto your face.
Eventually, your bottom half is free of clothes. The vulnerability is terrifying under Sullyoon's impish expression. Her eyes scan all over your exposed body just to elicit some more goosebumps on your skin. You're smiling weakly out of intoxication, regardless. Your affection for her is running deadly deep.
She takes a drag, removing the can from your chest. You feel you can breathe properly again. There's this slightly numbing pain in your ribs, but you're too drunk and lusted-out to give any fucks about that. She's taller than you are. She's older than you are. She's stronger than you are. This is nauseatingly perfect.
"Go to the toilet," Sullyoon issues another order, and she moves out of the way to let you walk with boxers and pants on your ankles.
You take a few clumsy steps to the toilet, feeling Sullyoon's eyes on you. It's probably the natural response for you to feel the need to pee upon seeing the ceramic bowl. So, you aim your hard cock towards the water body. It's difficult with an erection, but—
"I've always wanted to do this." Sullyoon's chest is pressed against your back. Her left hand slides all over your abdomen, while the right is still holding the borrowed cigarette and the beer can. Of course, you moan with pleasure and her warmth. She stops around your lushness above your cock, eventually, and she gives it a soft press.
"Fuck," you whine whorishly. She gives it another press, and the tingle in your bladder becomes stronger. You can barely stand right now.
"Piss for Mommy, pretty boy, piss all that beer out," Sullyoon coos, and you feel her chin on your right shoulder. She takes another inhale of the nicotine, and you can only watch the smoke flying out of her mouth from beside you. Her left hand moves down a little more to help with the aim under the state of erection. She wraps her hand around your cock, bending it down a bit more.
That's when it starts for you.
There's the sound of your fluid hitting the water body in the toilet — slightly yellowish. Your body loosens up a bit. Sullyoon hums approvingly as a response, then, "It's so hard. I'm sure it's because of me, right?"
"Yes, Mommy," you speak, the moniker slipping out too easily. Your eyes are locked on your firmly held shaft that's still leaking.
Sullyoon takes another drag, blowing the smoke below her. The cloud envelops your cock, and you find the image somewhat cinematic, to be honest. You keep your piss consistent, forcing it out of the bladder in a powerful stream against the ceramic and the toilet water.
"Mommy's pissy boy," Sullyoon whispers, prompting a moan out of your mouth. Your pliability has never reached such high, and it's Seol Yoona — your crush — who helps turn your brain into a mush. "You're such a nasty little slut."
You repeat mindlessly, "I'm Mommy's pissy boy. I'm Mommy's little slut."
Sullyoon puts the cigarette into your mouth, blowing a puff into your right ear. The cloud is warm on your lobe. The drag is warm between your lips. "Take a drag, pretty boy."
You're too stupid and wasted right now to resist. There's a cough when the smoke hits those tiny bags in your lungs, and puffs leave your mouth. The stick doesn't fall, still. That's your first time smoking, and being held by the cock by your crush while pissing does elevate the experience by a margin.
Down below, your stream goes down in its intensity. A straight line becomes a curved one, and a curved one becomes droplets. The noise coming from the ceramic becomes quieter, and Sullyoon helps you shake the last few beads out of your slit. Your body can barely stand up now. You can just collapse within Sullyoon's embrace, really.
She holds you like that for a while, letting you bask in her warmth and your own vulnerability. You let out a few whines from between your lips as the drag remains in your mouth. Every breath is punctuated with a puff leaving with the moans. Then, Sullyoon sways from side to side languidly, and you follow promptly. She's humming some tune that you don't recognize — perfect cadence, almost somber tone.
"Such a good boy for Mommy," Sullyoon praises you, chin still on your right shoulder. Your heart jumps at the compliment, obviously, as you dance along with her.
"Thank you, Mommy," you say feebly, a bit muffled by the cigarette. Sullyoon reclaims it from your mouth with her fingers, eventually. Another puff is blown out of her mouth.
"Almost burned out," Sullyoon says.
Your eyes are still looking into the wall in front of you, mostly thoughtlessly except for the movements and her care. "What's burning out?" you ask, shifting your weight between the legs for the nocturnal waltz.
Another exhale, another white gust, another hum — Sullyoon answers, "The drag — this is my only one."
"Ask for one more from Haewon, Mommy."
But Sullyoon just stays there, hugging you from behind, lingering with you. Her left hand is still on your hard cock. A few more puffs pass by your ear as you two move from side to side. The room smells of scented candles.
"I wanna stay like this," Sullyoon finally says, and she presses the cigarette against the wall in front of you. There's an inky mark on the vast whiteness of the bathroom wall. "You smell like beer, by the way," and she finally takes a deep breath from something that isn't a cigarette: you.
The exposure to Sullyoon's proximity just pierces all of your defenses. Just this morning, if someone told you that you'll be in this situation — your crush holding your dick while you're peeing — you'd tell them to fuck the hell off. Right now, you don't know if it's the alcohol that's doing the talking, but you think it's real — her affection, her body against yours, her words.
Within her embrace, you've never felt weaker than right now.
"I like you."
Fanservice
IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 9 - Honda Hitomi
IZ*ONE/Say My Name's Honda Hitomi x Male Reader
5,628 words
Categories | daddy kink, breeding kink, mindbreak, facefucking, sub!Hitomi
Thank you to everyone who still has faith in this series <3 First fic of May!
It’s funny how life works. You never thought it would come to this point, but you know what they say: expect the unexpected. That’s the only way you can get through your twenties without going insane.
But even so, you still have little recollection of how you ended up sitting in a café, waiting to meet Honda Hitomi.
That’s right: the Honda Hitomi. You can’t believe it either. Years ago, you were mourning IZ*ONE’s disbandment, and now you’ve somehow landed the opportunity to meet the veteran idol of your dreams. Your hand keeps trembling on the table and she isn’t even here yet. What more if she finally shows up? God, you hope you don’t faint.
I’m almost there~ I’m really sorry for the wait!
🍑 xx
You want to text her back and say there’s no need for apologies. You’ll wait for her your whole life if need be, just like how you waited for her to debut again, waited for her merch in long lines—
“Hey there!”
You look up from your phone and your heart nearly stops.
Alright, you can remember how you got here now, actually.
You weren’t even that into K-pop—well, until some of the bigger hits from 2NE1 came out. That got you a little interested. You had this bias against K-pop at first because it seemed incredibly mundane. But then you found out it was just… music, only sang in Korean. Fast forward to 2018, you saw the most beautiful girl on your screen who was competing to be in a produce group. Your life started there.
And now, she’s standing right before you. Her smile is dazzling. It blinds you as you scramble to your feet, frantically bowing.
“Hi, I’m a huge fan!” you say. You’re aware that you’re making yourself look idiotic in front of your ultimate bias but you have no idea how to make it stop. Hitomi just makes your brain short-circuit. “Thank you for coming!”
Hitomi giggles. “I know you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t have joined our contest, right?”
You blush. Strike one, you guess. However, there’s only playful jest written on Hitomi’s round face. That’s just one of the many things you love about her: she’s genuine. The cutie pie public image doesn’t change the fact she’ll make whatever she feels known. You have evidence of it in your gallery: a video of her cursing in Japanese, photos of her smiling brightly, and of course, that wrenching video of her crying after their first win.
It’s parasocial to say, but you’ve been around for each other’s firsts. You were thrust into the real world as an adult the same time she was. She was your first bias who kept you afloat and looking forward to something in college, when all you could think about was if you were going to graduate or not. She introduced you to a whole world of music you didn’t know could be so good.
Funny. You had a lot of biases after IZ*ONE, but none could measure up to Hitomi.
“Right, sorry. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.’’
“Oh, no need to apologize! I’m actually really thankful you joined.” She shakes your hand. Does she know that one touch almost made you faint? “It’s been a little scary debuting again in Korea. It’s nice to know I have fans who support me either way.”
She’s in this little crochet halter, the dark hues the opposite of that blonde hair. As perfect as she is, you realize that she’s just as human as you are. There’s a bit of sweat on her forehead, courtesy of the April heat. A little bit of her lipstick is smudged slightly around the corner of her mouth. She isn’t just a figment of the pixels on your phone screen.
The only difference is she’s a hundred times more beautiful.
It’s actually crazy—she’s just there, gesturing with her small hands, talking and smiling, and through it all she remains picture-perfect gorgeous. Paparazzi shots have nothing on her. They can look everywhere for an unflattering angle and be greeted with none.
“Well, I’ll always be here,” you say bashfully. “Would you like a drink?”
Hitomi’s eyes sparkle once more as they fixate on the menu. “Sure!” There’s a lot of delicacies worth trying here.
“Unless, uh, of course—” You shrug. “You’d rather go somewhere else. I heard there’s a mall nearby with a new parlor.”
You don’t really know what to do here. You didn’t expect to win the contest her label held for their comeback: a few album purchases in exchange for a whole day with your bias. Was this going to be televised? Were there limits? You should’ve read the fine print.
Hitomi offers you a gentle smile. So many times you found refuge in it. You didn’t know it at the time when you were voting for her on Produce 48, but you were in it for the long ride.
“You really need to stop worrying so much. We can do whatever you like. As far as I’m concerned, I’m all yours.”
-
Now what the hell does that mean?
You’re not completely parasocial, for god’s sake. You’ve been a K-pop fan long enough to know these little sweet lines are scripted. Everything is manufactured and sold to consumers who’d devour anything if it had a pretty girl printed on it: a wink to the camera, outfits designed to hug every appealing curve, words of support in an online fancall. It would be stupid to fall for any of that.
But when Hitomi’s in that tiny little halter, eyes never leaving you and her lithe legs crossed, whatever else should you think about?
Hitomi gives her sugar-coated spoon a long, languid lick. Your gaze lingers a little too much at the sight. Her pretty lips, glossy and soft, succeed in making you jealous of the utensil. Not to mention that tongue…
Shake your head, as if doing it would clear all the dirty thoughts in it. You swore to yourself a long time ago you would not be one of those fans. They were everywhere, even on a small-scale website like Tumblr. It shocked you to see a blog solely dedicated to writing mature fanfiction about her and her former group members, clear from the username already. Whatever that iznsfw person does is disrespectful and dehumanizing.
Besides, Honda Hitomi is like, off-limits. She’s tiny and lovable and has the softest cheeks in mankind. This is the last girl you should think of as sexy.
“Is it as good as you expected?” you ask.
Hitomi nods cutely, as if nothing happened. As if she didn’t ignite a heat inside you that won’t go out.. She looks gorgeous underneath all that sunlight. It seems to bounce off her milky skin and make her one of its own rays.
“I’m so glad you picked the strawberry flavor,” she says, twirling her spoon through the pink ice cream. “Thank you, by the way. Chocolate’s too regular for me, you know? You can get that anywhere.”
“No problem at all. You did say strawberries were your favorite food, right?”
Hitomi looks genuinely touched. The sparkle in her eyes can’t be the cafe lamp’s illusion. She’s probably wondering how the hell you remember that. Even the people around her don’t remember how to spell her name. But it’s simple: you remember because it’s her.
“Aw, our fans are always so thoughtful,” she gushes. “I didn’t think anyone would know that… I said that in a talk show a million years ago.”
You want to tell her the exact date and MC of the show, but you keep that to yourself. The last thing you want to happen is for your ultimate bias to think you’re just another creepy fan. You swear hand to god that you aren’t; you’re just completely, hopelessly devoted to Hitomi.
Okay, so that doesn’t help your case, but still. You take another bite of your brunch pancakes before speaking again.
“AKB48 days, I think?” you say, playing it off casually.
Hitomi juts her lips out, deep in thought. She shakes her head. “No, it’s actually–” Her eyes grow larger than life, disbelief clear in them. “You’re right! How did you know that?”
“I meant it when I said I’m your biggest fan.”
Oh, if only she knew that you led the voting fan union when SayMyName was nominated in music shows. Then there’s your drawer full of her photo cards, the posters of her in your room… she pretty much consumed you. She brought so much light to your life that you didn’t know could deviate from gloom.
There’s a saying that goes something like “never meet your heroes.” It’s better to keep them on a pedestal than get your heart broken knowing they’re nothing like you thought. But you’re glad you broke that rule for Hitomi. She’s as radiant as she is on your television. And above all, she’s actually quite easy to talk to. It’s just like talking to your best friend. You ask her about how it felt stepping back into the industry, and she jokes that it’s all an old game to her.
“I was nervous, of course, but the excitement cancels it out,” she explains. “It’s just work at the end of the day. You get used to doing it.”
The strawberry ice cream melted already into a puddle of pink. Your pancakes are left abandoned on your plate. The two of you don’t mind though. You like listening to Hitomi. And Hitomi loves talking about being an idol. Dancing and singing is something she was born to do.
“It has to feel weird though,” you remark, not quite thinking before you say it out loud.
Hitomi quirks her lip. “What do you mean?”
“You were in a group with eleven members with a leader to rely on. And now you’re a leader yourself. Doesn’t it get hard sometimes?”
She’s silent for a moment, probably reminiscing like you are. You were there for the golden era of her previous group. For the entirety of it, actually. You can see those little moments flash through her eyes—securing a spot in the lineup, performing during the pandemic, ending it all in a tearful yet high note with her purple hair falling around her hoodie.
You wonder if she ever felt sad knowing they never got to tour as a group. At their final concert, she spoke to an empty audience, unable to see who was there for her.
“It does,” she murmurs. “In a line of work like this, you’re gonna get tired. You’ll always think if you’re doing the right thing or if you said the wrong thing. And it gets really lonely sometimes.”
Her voice is as fragile as glass. You begin to fear that you’re making her cry. Hell, even you think you’re going to tear up just recalling all of those memories. You’d hate to ruin a bright day like this.
Hitomi, to your surprise, only offers you a satisfied smile. “But god, do I love doing what I do. It makes it all worth it.”
She reaches her hand out to clasp yours. Her touch is soft as a cloud.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “For always being on my side. I’ll never take it for granted.”
“I-I should be thanking you. I’m serious. You make me so happy just by…” You gesture vaguely, an embarrassed little smile on your face. “You know, dancing and singing onstage. You’ve helped me through a lot of sleepless nights.”
She’ll forever be in your heart and head, one way or another. She stayed there during IZ*ONE when you still had a hard time picking her apart from the other eleven girls. She stayed there during the hiatus, when you struggled finding subtitles for her Japanese shows. And she might as well be a second heartbeat but a first thought now that she’s back in the industry you learned to love because of her.
And she tilts her head, blinking innocently. “What kind of sleepless nights?”
You’re beginning to think something’s very wrong with you.
Come on, she doesn’t mean any harm or innuendo. She’s just concerned about you, like she is with all of her fans. It’s natural for her to be after having such a vulnerable conversation with you.
It's certainly inconvenient, though, that the innuendo comes after you’ve been battling thoughts about folding her in half on this table and filling those soft cheeks with something else than ice cream. Just the tiniest physical contact between you and the idol you worship makes you heat up. The way she’s looking at you right now should be a really sweet moment you’d tuck away in your heart and thank the heavens for experiencing. However, it only makes you unable to hold eye contact with her, and drifting your gaze from her face to that tight little body doesn’t help.
“Hitomi…”
She doesn’t have to know what you look at in the night. They’re all photos of her, of course, looking adorable in fansigns and small concerts. But there’s always that one photo sandwiched between wholesome content—something where she’s showing off skin a little more than usual, her gaze piercing through the lens. As if she knew what you were doing.
She’s giving you that exact same look now.
And god, it’s even more dangerous in person. Her head tilts to the side, her eyelashes fanning low. It would look adorable to anyone else. That’s how it should look—her boba eyes are like that of an anime character and she’s so bubbly it’s infectious.
“It’s alright, oppa,” she says with a playful tinge in her voice. “You don’t have to hide it from me. It just makes me more curious.”
This cannot be fucking happening. Is this a prank? The airconditioned café suddenly feels too warm. You need to get rid of your jacket. You need to get rid of her clothes. You need to taste the ice cream sitting on her bottom lip to quench the thirst in you.
“It really doesn’t matter,” you stutter, searching for a lifeline. Your voice draws thinner with anxiety. “I think you’d be more interested in knowing how many albums I bought just to meet you. Everyone says it’s crazy.”
Hitomi pouts. “But I already know that. My manager said you got twenty copies of all versions.”
“Twenty-six of each, actually. To celebrate your birthday in advance.”
“Then shouldn’t you tell me what you think about in those sleepless nights?” Hitomi leans forward, knowing exactly what that pout does to you. “I always want to give back to my fans, especially when they’re as… big as you are.”
The innocent giggle that follows is just too much. Her cute voice should not entice you like this. This day has taken twists bigger than meeting Hitomi herself. You have no idea what to do.
Are you really going to be cornered by a Japanese girl who’d fit in your pocket? You hate to say that the answer is yes, especially when the girl you’re horribly down bad for is Honda Hitomi.
You shift in your seat. “You’re trying to get me in trouble.”
She laughs, biting her lip a little. Another obscene fantasy crosses your mind just this second. One of her doing that same expression as she takes that top off, eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. But let’s not pretend you don’t want me.”
This would be so much easier if she was wrong—a weight off your shoulders, a lack of a guilty conscience. Nobody should be thinking of a girl like Hitomi like that. It’s exactly why she garners the kind of audience she has. She’s too precious. Miniscule, pretty, a permanent giddy smile glued to her face. It felt wrong to even consider her as someone sexy.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I’m yours for the day,” she says. “So please, do whatever you want to me.”
Then Hitomi spreads her creamy thighs under the table and you realize you actually, truly do not give a fuck about what’s right or wrong.
-
This has got to be illegal. You didn’t read the terms and conditions, haven’t the slightest idea of what goes and what doesn’t, but you’re pretty fucking sure you should not be taking Hitomi to a hotel.
This whole situation has just been a battle of your morals. Because here’s the thing:
You believe that no label, as big as SM or as small as Hitomi’s, should risk their idol hooking up with a fan. And if this is just elevated fanservice, they should be sued for fortunes.
Then again, why would you pass up the opportunity? Hitomi initiated this herself after all.
Still, there should be boundaries. Artists hooking up with their fans is a tale old as time, but that doesn’t make it less wrong. You only know Hitomi from a camera-captured perspective. She’s a celebrity with a reputation at risk. That alone is a good reason for the two of you to call this off.
But Hitomi’s plump ass looks too good in that skirt, and she’s kissing the hesitation out of you before you could speak.
“God, you’re already so hard,” Hitomi moans against your lips. Her hand cups your bulge through your jeans and you jolt. “Mm. Is this what gets you off, oppa? Getting to fuck me after waiting for so, so long?”
You want to tell her that she shouldn’t say things like that. But the evidence is all there, in the heavy breaths you have to take before kissing each other again, in the way you’re holding her right now. Her waist fits oh-so-perfectly in your hands that you’re pushed to think this was meant to happen.
You lift her up. This still feels like a dream; your head isn’t all there so this could just be some lucid dream. Hitomi’s slim legs wrapped around your hips break the illusion. They feel too soft, too warm to be a dream. Her core presses hotly against your bulge while your fingers explore every unmapped inch of her body.
“Fuck, Tomi…” You pin her to the door and waste no time. You start devouring her neck, the pressure firm on her skin and your teeth sinking into it. Hitomi’s whiny gasps spur you on. You could record them and work hard to make it another chart-topping song.
“That’s the plan,” giggles Hitomi, her eyes rolling back. “Come on, oppa. Do what you want to me. Hitomi’s your little fuckdoll for the night.”
The obscenity coming from the mouth of such a cute girl is appalling. It’s the kind that should make you scold her instead of grinding down on her core. Don’t ever say that again, you would tell her, and Hitomi, with her eyes welling up with tears, would meekly say she’s sorry.
That’s how you’d go about this situation if you were a good man.
Here’s the thing, though: she’s corrupting you as much as you’re corrupting her. You’re not a good man. And you think you like it that way, with how good Hitomi’s tight little body feels underneath you.
You take her slim wrists and pin them above her head. All of her is on display now: those perfect shoulders, the smooth flesh of her arms and underarms, the neck you’ve peppered with purple love bites. It’s so easy to manipulate her into submission. She’s so small that it takes zero effort to get her where you want.
You’re drunk with power. “You promise to do what daddy tells you?”
“Yes.”
Her vanilla scent is addicting. She looks and smells delectable, and you can’t wait to ruin her. Each part of your body is screaming at you to pounce on her, but you haven’t quite heard what you wanted yet.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, daddy,” whines Hitomi. Her eyes are glassy. You can quite literally feel her body quake with anticipation. It does things to your ego, knowing she wants this as much as you do.
You’re not thinking straight. All you can process is the carnal, almost dangerous desire you have to ruin her. It’s not even desire anymore. You’ll find that you’ll die if you don’t get to fuck Hitomi. It’s as big a need as food and shelter, right up there on the Maslow hierarchy.
You need to push her legs apart as far as they could go while you fuck her little pussy.
You need to hear her beg for it even when you’ll give her a good dicking down anyway.
You need to see that innocent little face look corrupted and sinful when it’s painted with your cum.
That gives you an idea.
“Get on your knees.”
How many times have you dreamed of doing this? It’s a secret you’ll never admit to anyone, how you’d let your mind wander when you watch fancams of her and notice the eye contact she maintains with the lens. The smile would disappear from her face and be replaced with a sultry look whenever she did a particularly bold choreography, letting the skirt fold up her thighs and the neckline of her blouse hang low.
You can trace these moments all the way back to the One the Story concert. The lighting was similar in a way to this hotel room, the reds and hues dancing off Hitomi’s slim figure. Even that tiny skirt parallels the one she wore with Minju and Yuri. It hikes up her knees as she slowly descends to the floor.
It feels like deja vu now. Her years of experience as an idol makes everything seem like effortless choreography. The fabric of her skirt rolls even further up her thighs, showing off her enviable legs. She bites her lip while she unzips your pants. Without having met you before, she has the shape of your body known by heart. Her eyes never leave yours as she frees your aching cock.
Hitomi lives for the roughness. “Want it so bad, daddy.” She starts to jerk you off, attempting to cover all of your girth with her tiny hand. The sensation is sharp and hot. “Want daddy to feed me his big cock and stick it down my throat. Because I’m his pretty little girl. All yours.”
“All mine.”
She automatically gets what she's supposed to do. She’s made for it, even. Her handjob is professionally done to get each drop of hot cum out of you. Her nimble fingers caress each sensitive spot before she opens her mouth.
The sight of Hitomi sticking her little tongue out to taste you makes you groan. She holds you by the base and coats each inch with her drool. Her lips seal around your shaft, dragging the pleasure out, while she stimulates you with eager swipes of her tongue.
“Love this cock, daddy,” Hitomi moans. She’s basically making out with your dick. Her hot, messy kisses on your tip send electricity bolting throughout your body. “So so big, can’t live without it. How are you gonna fit this inside me later?”
She knows what she's doing. She knows exactly how to rile you up.
You pray for her sake that she’s as good of a fuckdoll as she says, for you take a hold of her Rapunzel locks to push her pretty face further between your legs. Your cock slips past her glossy lips and dents the side of her fluffy cheeks.
It’s so incredibly wrong. She’s too adorable to be fucked like this. She’s the sort of girl you kiss on the forehead and do more wholesome things together, preferably activities that do not involve fucking her innocent face.
You can’t stop now though. Satisfied with the depth, you start off strong with several, rough thrusts into her throat. You hear—feel her fragile gasp around your shaft. It takes you even higher.
“Come on, take it, Hitomi.” Your thrusts get messier. Her cheeks grow pinker with a deep, satiated blush that no stylist can get from a palette. She just loves to be taken like this, like she was made to service your every need.
The innocence never quite leaves her eyes despite the facefucking. It’s permanently stitched into her gaze. What ought to make you feel guilty tempts you further. You want to see all the sweetness leave her. You want her to take it.
Hitomi’s hands, having previously shifted nervously on her lap, now return to your body. Her forehead wrinkles slightly at the difficulty of taking you. The impact of your rapid thrusts makes her unable to breathe. Her breaths quickly stagger into nothingness.
Rather than run from it, she chases the feeling. She wants more of the lightheadedness, the thrill of being owned and used like the toy she promised she was.
Hence, she works to double the pleasure. Her hands hold your hips for leverage. The little oxygen she can take from her nostrils is blocked when you go in particularly deep. She makes an audible moan (or perhaps a gag? You’re too turned on to differentiate the two), opening her mouth wider and letting you drag your tip across the textured flat of her tongue.
You’re nearly there. You gather Hitomi’s hair into a fisted ponytail, mindlessly fucking her mouth. Your cock never leaves the wet seal of her pretty mouth. Your groans mix with hers. Her tongue keeps licking, her hands keep fondling with your balls, her eyes keep looking up at you with all that ruined sanctity and naivety—
You pull out. Hitomi has the good sense to close her eyes as you cum all over her. The orgasms buzzes and flickers in your veins, a humming within them that grows louder as you realize she’s jerking you off. Her gasps sync loudly with yours.
“Fuck, such a good girl,” you moan. Her grip milks you to sensitivity, rendering your knees buckling and shaking. Your semen seems to come out in endless spurts.
By the time the adrenaline dies down, you’ve completely painted your ultimate bias’ face with your cum. There’s some in her hair, on the seam of her lip. It drips heavily down her chest as if it were her own sweat.
Hitomi dips her middle finger into the cum that pooled in her collarbone. She tastes it with a coy little giggle. “God, daddy came all over me.”
She doesn’t look like the idol who danced energetically onstage and blew kisses anymore. She looks like your fucktoy, forever tied to your cock and lap. You’ve marked her all over so no one can ever call her theirs. She’s all yours.
Yours…
The thought puts you in a frenzy again. You don’t have to think twice about it. No, you’re not even thinking at all. You grab Hitomi’s feeble body and nearly slam her on the bed. You forget that she’s so small that it isn’t impossible that one bump into her could break her. In fact, it becomes your goal.
You take her clothes off in an instant. The lamp draws attention to the tags on them. God, these must belong to the company, not Hitomi herself. They’ll wonder how the expensive fabric came back stained. They might even punish her.
Whatever. She looks better without them anyway. Your eyes feast upon Hitomi’s slim, tight body. Her abs are composed of angry, structured lines on her flat tummy. And of course, those pink nipples beg for your attention. They stand erect, waiting to be played with.
Your greedy hands claim Hitomi. You pinch her tight nipples, wrenching desperate whines from the column of her throat. Run your hands along those toned thighs and the heated core between them. One finger has her shaking. You rub your fingertip along her wet slit and the forward arches of her body greet you.
“You’re such a bad daddy,” Hitomi whimpers in between heavy, trembling breaths. “Look at what you did to me.”
You do as she says. Observe her glistening pussy, the cum that now drips from her face to her chest. Watch how she craves for your touch more than anything else in the world. She’s a far cry from the beloved K-pop idol with whom you shared a brunch date.
The arousal is thick in the air. You don’t bother for foreplay. She’s teased you for longer than she should have. This is a golden opportunity you would never dare let go of.
You swiftly enter her waiting cunt. The reaction you draw from her is priceless. A loud cry is punched out of her, her eyes going doe-wide. You keep your stomach tight to keep from cumming again, cumming too soon. She’s so unbelievably tight. It’s as if her whole body, every nerve and muscle within it, is working together to clench around your erection.
Your strokes drive Hitomi further into the bed. You constantly remind yourself to be careful. Fucking her doesn’t change the fact that she’s your favorite idol. Fucking her doesn’t mean you can destroy the only bed you can afford in Seoul after allotting your funds into her albums. But all these reminders prove to be fruitless. You just keep railing Hitomi, grasping the small of her waist to bury your shaft deeper inside her hole.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Hitomi surrenders to you completely. She lets you mark her up and tell the world that you own her. She goes as far as to spread her legs wider for you, bearing the sharp, full sensations of your cock destroying her. “God, daddy, I can’t believe you had the balls to fuck me like this. You’re so big inside my little pussy.”
Her words are vulgar when put next to her adorable face. But now the innocence is gone from it. It was gone from the moment she got a feel of your cock. Your mission to destroy it is successful. The sparkle in her eyes is replaced with a deep, crazed hunger for your dick.
The pride in knowing that you did this to her, knowing this isn’t something to be proud of somehow has more blood pumping into your length. You’ve closed your eyes through the unbearable pleasure but the image of Hitomi, with her glazed eyes and marked neck, is burned into your head. You can’t escape her.
Your own moans deafen you, but her voice powers over it. She’ll never tire of reminding you of what you did to her.
“You really are so bad, daddy. Before I met you, I was a good girl who just did her job. I-I danced and sang and did… fuck, everything I can to make people think I’m sweet and innocent. I was doing so good.”
The waves of pleasure aren’t merciful on her. Her frame trembles beneath yours as she struggles to keep up with each big stretch, each large inch.
“But now look at what you did to me,” she cries out in a ragged breath. “You made me into your personal sex slave. I don’t think I can go a day after this without daddy’s fat cock in me. I dunno what to do.”
She consumes you, body and soul. It’s the same on your end. Hitomi and her tight little pussy are all you can think of.
As her sick, twisted mantra goes on, you become aware of how close you are. The heat climbs up to your neck. Your whole body feels like it’s imprisoned in a cage of hot arousal and sin. You settle a thumb over Hitomi’s pearl and start rubbing frantically, eager to get her over the edge as well.
“Oh fuck, daddy, what will I do if I can’t have your dick inside me? Need to feel your cum filling my womb up every second. I don’t want condoms either. You don’t need to be gentle with me. You can go as hard or as soft as you like because I was made for your cock.”
Your breath hitches. The messy, sloppy sounds of your cock entering her pussy are up to par with the loud sounds Hitomi’s making. She’s wildly bucking into you to meet your thrusts. Those talented hips draw your cock into her with dizzying circles as you hammer into her.
“Mmm, I don’t care what the fans say, daddy. Not even the company. You can cum inside me anytime, fuck me wherever you want… I want to feel you breed me. You can paint me with your cum before every stage and the fans wouldn’t even know I have your baby inside me. But they don’t have to… right, daddy? We can keep this between you and me, between daddy and his good little girl—”
With a final, feral shout, you thrust as deep as you can and bring her desires to reality. The orgasmic pulses of her walls squeeze the ropes of semen out of you. They spill into her fertile womb like a waterfall. Her screams are melodic background music to it all.
You lay your head on top of Hitomi’s chest, panting for life. Her dripping pussy warms you as you go soft once more. You never thought it could happen. It seemed an unlikely scenario, with how hard Hitomi’s worked for her orgasm, how she’s clinging onto you right now.
You forgot about the idea of unlikely scenarios a long time ago. While there was a time you thought this pornographic fanservice was only a dream, you’d argue you’re doing her a good favor as well. You’ve never seen her in such a state of bliss.
You watch the semen fall in thick drops from her bred hole. If only there were no consequences.
New fic!
Friends did you read my new Moka fic? If yes, thank you and do it again. If no, go and do it!!!
Let's support Moka during her hiatus!
Moka's secret
ILLIT Moka x Male Reader
Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Smut | Word count: 7.8k | Tags: Girlfailure, Blowjob, Pervert Moka, Handcuffs, First time
Synopsis: The university's perfect student turns out to be an incredibly shy and perverted fanfiction writer
Note: I apologize if some parts are rough. I could have edited it more, but I was so tired, and I had been working on this fic for way too long. I hope you can still enjoy it
Moka was a good student. She paid attention in class, shared her notes, and studied diligently. Her impressive consistency was admired by all her peers, and they wondered how she achieved this type of discipline. It seemed like nothing bothered her: not the five tests set in a week, not her insufferable courters, not her friends’ dramas.
Indeed, Moka had a secret: fanfictions. That’s how she took her stress away. The study material is too difficult? Read a one-shot, and it will all click right away. A short break from the clubs? That’s time for some headcannons. Having a bad day? Some smuts will fix it right up. What about a good day? Well, read away.
It was when she went to college that she started writing, and when she discovered her natural talent, she never stopped. Reading was fun. People had amazing stories to tell, but after absorbing all those tropes and characters, her brain was starting to bubble with stories of her own. Suddenly, she could create whatever she wanted and didn’t need to send requests, hoping the writers liked them.
Moka seemed like an innocent girl. She wore cute sweaters and girly shirts, often paired with a pleated skirt; she wore a lot of gadgets, and always had rounded sneakers. She had a bright personality and always smiled.
People looked at her and saw an adorable ray of sunshine. Never would they have guessed what she wrote.
And, truly, she did write cute stories at first. Short fluffs about the shows she was watching. Ships and self-inserts.
But a girl has her needs.
When that character showed up on screen, shirtless and sweaty, oh it burnt like a fire. Immediately, she had to look up something, something strong.
She started following boy groups and entered their fanfiction fandoms, and that was the decisive moment.
Fluffs weren’t enough. She needed more. The heat inside her chest couldn’t be tamed by simple cuddles and kisses. She was well past that, that was for kids, not her.
It started with spicy scenarios, a little teasing, some touching here and there, and it quickly spiraled into something wilder.
Moka wanted to try them all. All kinks, plays, tropes, and characters. She let the tingles take her away, following that feeling that clouded her brain.
She started dipping her feet on the other side as well and realized just simply how hot girls were. But other than that, she got curious about the other perspectives and started reading male reader stories.
Seeing the perspective of the man made her go insane. It was exhilarating.
By that time, she had already built up a decent following. It was only natural, given how prolific a writer she was.
That’s when she met you, her fellow writer friend.
She stumbled upon your blog after scrolling endlessly through mediocre clanker-ridden Y/N slop. It was like finding a diamond in the rubbish.
After reading the first paragraphs, she was hooked. After eight more, her breath was hot. 10 seconds later, her right hand crawls down her legs. 20 more seconds and she has to stifle the lewd moans rushing out of her mouth.
And 10 minutes later, she was left with a mess to clean up.
It was love.
She had to meet whoever wrote this story. It was like their brain completely in sick with hers. It knew everything she liked, from the cute interactions, to the sexual tension, the sex and even the pace.
Moka took some time to re-collect herself and get some tissues to get herself back into her clean demure image. Then she went to your blog, clicked the small speech bubble under your post and started typing.
[OMG THIS WAS SO GOOOD. Honestly my favorite fic right now. PLEASE GIVE US A PART 2]
Hearted.
Her job was done, her nerves were soothed, now back to studying.
Moka went back to her microeconomy book and started reading the chapter the professor had taught this morning. It wasn’t exactly an interesting topic but she still had to catch up otherwise it would pile up endlessly. So everyday, when she went back home, she would re read her notes and check what it said on the textbook. Read… Read…
She needed to read another one. Another smut.
Moka threw her book aside and jumped on the bed again. She opened her phone and rushed to your blog, that she had followed already. She checked your masterlist. There were so many choices, so many fics she hadn’t read yet.
So her personal ritual started again.
On the other side of town, you were scrolling through the countless memes on IG reels when you received that notification. It surprised you. Nobody had ever written a comment with that much excitement and certainly not with those many capital letters. You thought for a moment. It was either a very zesty man or it was a girl.
You’ve heard of them before, girls that read male reader fics, though they were very rare. You wondered why they’d be attract to this, especially since the perspective was so different. As long, as they liked it, you didn’t complain.
“How should I reply to this?” you thought to yourself. It was always good practice to reply to comments. They took the time to write it, after all.
[Thank you for the comment! Wait for part—
“No,” you thought. “It will probably not happen. Delete.”
[Thank you for the comment! We’ll see what happens]
There. That’s perfect. Give them hope but don’t promise anything. Done, enter.
You were about to put your phone away when another notification hit your phone.
[IM GONNA WORSHIP THE GROUND YOU'LL WALK IN🙏🏻💛😭]
Okay, what the fuck?
Well, you were flattered, that’s for sure. But was this really necessary. You kinda remember what you wrote and not a single sentence deserved this much… excitement. Not to mention, it wasn’t towards the character either, it was towards you. You.
You had to sit back and really think what to reply this time.
Maybe you should match her energy. No, that’s not really what you do.
[You’re too kind!]
Yeah, that will be okay. And… send.
[IM SCREAMING THAT WAS INSANE OMGGG I- I’ll NEVER recover from this, I’m not the same person anymore]
What?
Is this person okay?
You rubbed your forehead. You had to go and quickly read what you wrote to try to understand the reasoning of this reaction. No matter how many times you went back to it, you still couldn’t understand.
You stared at the blinking cursor. Should you reply again? What if she continued? What would you do then?
Before you could decide, someone messaged you. It was her. Or him, you still weren’t completely sure.
> Sorry if that was too much 😭 your writing hits different > Like it’s written exactly for me > Sorry sorry sorry
You blinked. She seemed nice enough. Without really thinking about it, you started typing again.
> Don’t apologize, it’s actually really flattering
On the other side, Moka’s heart dropped when she saw your reply. She’d been debating inside her head whether she just gave you a reason to quit writing or permanently tainted your stories with her excessive comments. She was embarrassed. She was the only comment under them. There were some others but it was mostly “Nice” or “Great fic!”.
Relief washed over her when Moka read what you wrote.
She picked up her phone again and started thinking of how to reply to you. With a pillow clutched between her chest and the the phone screen, she started typing, slower this time.
> Really? > I love your plots and characters! > It’s really unique
> Thank you! > Have you read my stuff before?
Moka bit her lip.
> No not really > I just found out and started reading > Just a few days
More like just a few hours. But she didn’t want to seem crazier than she already did.
You smiled at your screen, she must have binged all your fics.
> Wow you must have a lot of free time
> Not at all I should be studying right now 😭😭
> Well it does help to relax a little bit
Moka thought for a moment. She wanted to keep talking but didn’t really know what to say. She could have continued to talk about writing and fics but she wasn’t sure whether you really liked them like that.
> Do you take requests?
You leaned back in your chair. Not really. Rarely. Actually, never tried. You told yourself you would but only if the idea felt right and usually you didn’t really feel inspired. But you didn’t really want to let her down, she looked so happy to read your stuff.
> Sometimes > You have something in mind?
Moka jumped up from her seat. “Calm down,” she told herself. This is the chance. Do not scare that man. Or woman. She had a lot of ideas she thought about writing but never did, it was time she could give them to you.
But were they good enough?
Think, Moka, think.
Moka typed, deleted, she looked through her documents, her phone notes. Nothing. You would have surely rejected them. Okay, she had an idea. It would be a good idea to actually ask you to write with her. Yeah, why not? That way she can learn from you and create a good story that you would both like.
> Not a request really, more like a collab > I write too
She got your interest.
> That could be interesting > Could you send me a link to your work
Moka’s breath started to quicken and her heart started to beat faster and faster. All her stories, her secrets, her filthy works. You were going to see all of them. Well, you wrote that stuff too so it was fine but it was still a bit embarrassing. What if you hated them?
But it was too late to pull back.
Moka took a deep breath, copied her blog’s link and pasted the link.
You watched the blue link appear in your chat and clicked it. The screen blinked and loaded up her blog. You were sure it was a female now. The blog was very well customized. It was all pink with plenty of moodboards, colored titles, sparkles and hearts everywhere.
Your blog, in comparison, was a boring default setup.
You went right into her masterlist and clicked the first fic.
The opening lines were cute. It was a show character x female reader, that made sense. A classic sweet student type of story: some banter, some very cute interactions, some embarrassed touches. You quickly scrolled through it, catching the essence of the story though quick sentences: two characters who clearly wanted each other but didn’t admit it.
Her writing style wasn’t that bad. You’re sure she was the one who wrote it.
You scrolled down further, skipping a few of the other fluffs to see how she progressed.
The story was a bit more complex this time. The plot was clear, and it developed into a longer time frame. Her words weren’t fumbling. The sentences were longer, tighter, and well thought. You were interested. It was the type of story you’d read, except you weren’t really familiar with these ships.
Your eyebrows rose when you went to her most recent fics.
“Oh,” you muttered to yourself. “So she does smut.”
The stories still started with the cute scenarios that she used in her earlier fics but it went from fluff to explicit in the space of just a few paragraphs. By the time you reached the middle of the fic you were very surprised. It was filthier than you expected.
You went back up to check the tags. “Fluff, slow burn, kissing,” so yeah, very tame normal stuff. Then: “dirty talk, overstimulation, bondage, knife play, domination, cock worship.”
Well, that was quite quick.
You blinked, scrolled again, and there it was: “Consent play, praise kink, degradation kink, pissing, blood play.”
Wait, how do those two tags even coexist?
Her works were actually very well written. It’s normal for writers to be into interesting stuff so you didn’t really see anything wrong with it. You accepted the collab, discussed some of the characters you liked, and let it go from there.
You didn’t think much about it, it was a very natural process. She’d start thinking about the plot first and then you’d review it.
Moka was extremely happy. She was doing all kind of research to make sure she knew everything single thing about every single person they could have written. She double-read every single story you had ever written to understand fully your style and preferences.
She had found another thing to look forward to when she was the university and could go to class with the same bright smile she always had.
The lecture hall was the same as every Wednesday, the professor was halfway through explaining a graph on prices when Moka saw something way too familiar in the corner of her eye. She tried to tell herself not to think about it and focus on the class but it was too strong.
There was something on that phone screen that she had already seen. It was that familiar pink layout of her blog, the sweet Y2K aesthetic that she spent 2 whole months creating on HTML and CSS. It was hers. There was no other possible person.
It was her own blog on the phone of someone in the same room as her, and they’re reading it right now. In public.
She watched you scroll through the story, completely focused on every single word. Moka felt her face getting warm. She had never thought about the type of people who would read her stuff and seeing a real person read her most private and perverted thoughts in a room full of people was making her succumb to embarrassment.
Then you opened a new tab to check your own dashboard and reply to a message. Moka fumbled out her phone and saw the message appear in front of her. Her eyes widened and she could feel the air leaving her lungs.
It was you.
The person that wrote all the stuff that she had consumed in her most private moments, the person that she’s obsessing over, the person that she’s supposed to write with… sitting right there in front of her.
When the bell rang and everyone packed their bags to leave the room, Moka moved on autopilot and teleported next to you. You were just putting your backpack on your shoulder when you felt the presence of another person next to you.
You turned your head and saw a familiar face. Yes, you had noticed her before. She was in your class after all. From what you remember, she was one of the best students in the course. She must have been one of the best ranked during the entrance exam. She was dressed very well too, with a cute sweater and a pleated skirt.
“You’re…” she started, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and pronounced your exact username in the clearest tone possible.
Your eyes darted open. Who was this? Who sent her? Were they here to blackmail you? You stepped back. This could get dangerous real quick.
Moka kept looking around to make sure no one was listening and stepped closer to lower her tone. “I mean, I’m cocomin43, but my name is Moka,” she blurted out. “The one who… commented on your stories…”
What? Her? You didn’t really say much. You couldn’t believe this was happening right now. You stood there with your mouth slightly open.
“Uhm, okay?” you mumbled.
“I saw you reading my story,” she said. "The one with the... you know. The knife stuff." She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, mortified. "This is so awkward. I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."
The moment the words knife stuff left her lips, Moka knew she had messed up. She saw your judgmental expression and couldn’t handle it.
"I—I mean! Not that I do that! I mean, I write it, but I don't—oh god," she stammered. “I have to go. Bye!”
Before you could even say anything else, she had spun around and quickly walked outside, nearly hitting a passing student.
After that episode, Moka spent 48 hours in a state of paralysis. She sat on her bed, staring at her laptop, wondering if she should open the private messages to clear up the situation. She didn’t sleep that day. She didn’t dare open the site.
For the first time in her life, she had revealed her secret to someone. You weren’t just a user; you sat in her class, just a couple of rows in front of her.
She didn’t know why she even talked to you. It was an excitement she had never felt before.
She couldn’t let it end like that. You were the only one who could actually accept her for who she was.
Still, she felt an incredible amount of shame and embarrassment that was hard to shake off. When she went back to university, she took the long way to every class to avoid the economics building.
But fate was that she’d meet you again at the vending machines. She was just buying a soda can when she saw your reflection in the glass. She couldn’t run. She had to confront you.
Moka froze. The can she chose thudded into the tray, and she slowly turned around to see your face staring back at her.
“Uhm,” she started. “Hi, again.”
“Hi,” you said, quietly.
“From the… internet.”
“I remember.”
She laughed nervously.
“Listen, about the other day,” she said. “Sorry. I’m not normally like that… I don’t really say that stuff.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” you said, rubbing the back of your head. “I figured.”
She took a deep breath.
“I actually wanted to… talk? Like, for real?” she looked at you. “And not about… that. The collab would be cool, but I’d like to get to know you.”
She bit her lips.
“I’m at [road], you know? Near the other student apartments. It's quiet there. No one will hear us... talking. About normal things! Like hobbies! " She winced at her own outburst. "Anyway. If you want, you should come over. Tonight? Around seven?"
She couldn’t stand the pressure and left with the coffee.
You thought about it. She was really pretty, and you were curious about her. She seemed really shy; maybe she just really wanted to make some friends. Well, she already had some friends at the university, you could see that. Maybe she wanted to share her hobby?
Well, what could go wrong? You made up your mind and looked up the address.
And that’s how you found yourself in this situation, in front of the door of a fanfiction writer.
You take a deep breath and ring the bell.
Moka opens the door and lets you inside. It looked like a normal apartment. It was clean, as spacious as a small studio could be but mostly neat. She didn’t have a lot of decorations outside the living room, apart from some plants and some small things here and there.
“So… here we are,” she says, playing with the keys in her hand. Her eyes go to the ground, fixated on her shoes.
“It’s nice,” you tell her, with a smile.
“You think so?” Moka says softly, looking at you with a small grin. “Wanna see my room?”
“Uhhh… sure.”
Moka opens another door and leads you down the small hallway. You can already see the warm light escaping the opening of the entrance. When you step inside, you open your mouth: it was so girly and pink, what you’d expect from the girl who sat in the front row.
There are neat stacks of textbooks lined up on her shelves, each one with pastel sticky notes sticking out from the sides. On her desk, highlighters and pens are organized by color—pink, yellow, blue, purple. A couple of books and notebooks lie open, as if she left them there mid-study session.
The walls are covered with posters of boy groups, their corners fixed with strips of washi tape. Next to a row of binders, a few lightsticks lean against the shelf, ready for the next concert.
Her bed is made, though not perfectly; the blanket is pulled up but slightly uneven. Plushies take up a good portion of the space, some new, some a little worn. The covers are of a pinkish hue as well.
The air smells faintly sweet, maybe from a candle she burned earlier or a lotion she uses.
“This is… it,” Moka comments.
“It’s nice,” you say again. Realizing it’s the same exact thing you said before, you try to think of something else. “It’s… cute.”
“Really?” she asks. “I—I cleaned my room, not that it was dirty, but like, not because you’re here,” she spits out and immediately regrets it, “oh my god—”
You laugh, brushing the back of your neck. “I like the boys—the posters you got on the walls.”
“You do? Are you into boy groups?”
“I like BIGBANG,” you say, pointing at the poster of Taeyang’s face. “His song is nice. Eyes, nose, and lips, was it?”
“Oh yeah, it was one of my favorite videos. It’s not often they go shirtless. He has very nice muscles. They are so… big,” Moka says with great enthusiasm.
“Mmh, yeah…” you say, a bit startled by her sudden outburst. “I meant the song. The song is nice.”
“Oh,” Moka laughs awkwardly. “It’s a great song! Yes, I like the song—too.”
You nod and continue to observe her room. You’re left with an awkward silence that Moka absolutely can’t stand. She’s thinking about what she said. God, you had just stepped into her place and she had already revealed how much of a pervert she is. Sure, you already knew. After all, that’s how you two know each other, but she was kind of starting over.
Moka shakes the thoughts out of her head and clears her throat. “Ehem. Would you like some tea?”
“That sounds nice, yeah,” you say.
“You can sit on the bed if you’d like,” Moka says. She turns around and guides you to the edge of the mattress. She takes just two steps and she’s already tripping on air. Her body comes way too close to you, her face inches from yours.
She immediately jumps away and apologizes profusely. You quickly brush it away.
In the kitchen, Moka’s mind races like crazy. She uses the electric kettle to boil some water. The bubbling of the water helps her calm down. She takes deep breaths and puts the mugs on the tray. When Moka comes back to her room, you’ll still be sitting there with your hands on your lap.
She puts the tray on the desk and grabs a mug. Her fingers are shaking and you can tell she’s overthinking everything. Moka holds it out to you, but in her nervousness, she misjudges the distance. The mug tilts, and a splash lands right onto you.
“Ah! Wait—oh no!” she cries. She freezes in horror, eyes wide.
“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—uh…” she grabs a napkin and tries to clean it off you. She doesn’t stop to think and fails to realize that the tea fell right between your legs. She even presses her hands against your pants, trying to pat them dry.
You freeze as you feel her whole weight coming down on you. “M-Moka! Wait—!” you start, but she’s so panicked she doesn’t hear you. Her eyes flick up and her panicked expression meets your shocked eyes.
“I’ll clean it! I swear! I’m trying, I’m—” her hands keep moving but it’s only making it worse.
You try to pull her hands away gently but she only panics more. She rubs hurder and stutters, “Ugh, why is this happening to me?!”
“Moka! Seriously, stop it!” you finally yell.
Moka glances down and realizes where she’s been rubbing. Her eyes go wide and her face flushes a deep red. She immediately backs away, waving her hands around in the air.
“Oh no no no no no!” she squeals, dropping the napkin. “I didn’t mean to—oh my god, I’m the worst!”
She covers her face with her hands from the embarrassment, continuing to mutter incoherent noises. Moka peeks between her fingers, deeply mortified.
You shake your head and laugh nervously, “It’s okay. It’s fine, really.”
Her shoulders slump, but she’s still red from head to toe. She’s a complete mess. She’s rouched awkwardly on the floor, hands still trembling, blinking rapidly. She’s trying her hardest to erase what just happened from your memory.
“Don’t worry about it, just… come sit,” you say and pet the space next to you.
“Can I?”
“Well, it’s your bed, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” she stutters and sits next to you, at a reasonable distance. “I—I’m so sorry about… you know… your—um…” She gestures vaguely toward your lap. “I didn’t mean to… touch that. I swear, I wasn’t thinking!”
“You apologized enough. It’s okay, really. Please don’t think about it,” you try to reassure her. “Anyways, what was the tea supposed to be? Black?”
“No, I… yes, it’s black but not just black. It’s like a black vanilla.”
“Oh, I see. It smells nice.”
“Yeah, it does, it does,” she says. “You also smell… uhm… good,” she murmurs. Maybe a good compliment will make her apology more believable. “Like… like a boy, but… in a nice way! Not in a weird way! I mean… you always smell nice. I noticed it the first time, but… okay, that sounded creepy, I’m sorry!”
It seems like she doesn’t think before she talks.
“You smell nice too…” you comment. “The shampoo aroma.”
She squeezes her hands together. “Thank you,” she smiles. You complimented her. You really did. You liked her. Maybe you wanted to sniff her hair. She’d gladly let you. And then she’d sniff you. Yeah, that’s how it should go.
“I mean, uh… thank you for… coming over. And, um… your hair looks really… nice? Today. It always does. And your… your jacket… it smells good too. Not in a weird way”
“What’s up with this smell thing?” you say, laughing.
Moka’s eyes go wide and she stammers. “Sorry, it’s gross right? I know it sounds dumb! I’m… I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”
“No, it’s okay, it’s… kind of cute.”
“Cute? Really?” she squeaks, bouncing on the ball of her feet. “I—I’m not cute! That’s… that’s impossible! You’re lying! You can’t actually mean that!”
“Really, you’re kinda adorable when you’re panicking. A bit.”
“A-adorable?! I—I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Moka… relax. You’re fine. Just breathe.”
“Alright, alright,” she brushes off and stays still for a moment.
You use this silence to wonder about your life decisions. What kind of situation have you put yourself in? This is not the Moka you knew. She was so normal in class: she had friends, talked to people, and was attentive. Now, it seems like she has never talked to a person in her whole life.
Surely, there must be some reason. Maybe the problem was yourself? But you didn’t do anything.
Moka seems to have calmed down a bit. She’s still fidgeting with her fingers but her face is of a softer red.
She turns her head towards you, lips pressed together, she takes a deep breath before talking again. “So, uhm, do you like reading books?”
You look at her briefly and turn your head to think about the answer. Moka clearly did not understand what you were doing because she interpreted it as you judging her harshly.
Panic. Again.
“I mean—of course you read books—stupid, forget I said that.”
“No, no, it’s a fair question,” you comfort her. “I actually don’t read a lot of books.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s mostly series and movies I watch. I use my previous knowledge about literature from books to write.”
“I see, well, what shows do you watch?”
“Korean and Japanese dramas? They have nice stories, it’s a good form of inspiration.”
“Yeah, I watch those too,” Moka says happily. Finally, she found a topic they had in common. Now all she had to do was come up with more questions to keep the conversation going.
Quickly, she had to remember what the video said. What was it again? First one was… maintain eye contact! Right. Thinking about it she already failed that first point. She must have looked your eyes probably two times in the twenty minutes you have been here.
Moka stared at you. Yeah, that was too awkward. Fuck that.
Just keep the questions going.
“What’s your favorite drama?” Moka asks, straightening her back to show how relaxed she was.
You look up at the ceiling to think about it. “Uhm,” you hummed. “I don’t know, really. I really liked When life gives you tangerines, you know that one?”
“Oh! I do!” Moka exclaims and smiles brightly. “The one with IU, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s pretty funny and quite romantic.”
“I really like the male character; he loves her a lot.”
“I thought he was kinda dumb at first. She was clearly not into him.”
“But then she did love him after all right?”
“Yeah at the end but he didn’t know that.”
“Yeah I remember that scene where they got drunk it was so funny and then when they went to the hotel they couldn’t resist and had sex. Imagine, it must have been their first time and it was so fun. I would do the same if a boy loved me so much. How couldn’t I? It was so cute and that’s how they got their kid too! They must have had so much sex haha.”
“...”
“...”
“Yeaaaahhh,” you started. “Definitely.”
There you go Moka, you ruined it.
“Well it did show that they were young and inexperienced,” you start. You could feel the awkwardness in the air and tried your best not to embarrass her, although she had every reason to be.
“They loved each other and didn’t have a proper way to show it before,” you continue. “It just happened.”
“Right, right,” Moka says.
“IU is a really good actress, isn’t she?”
“She really is, I admire a lot.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, she worked very hard and earned everything,” Moka says. “And she’s good at everything she does.”
“That’s true,” you laugh. “All the dramas she did were very successful.”
“What was the other one… uhh… Hotel Del Luna!” Moka says. “Did you see it?”
“I did, I did.”
“You liked it?”
“Very much. It was really fun, especially the thing between the protagonist and Man-wol.”
“The protagonist? You can’t remember his name, do you?”
“Yeah, I can’t,” you laugh.
“Wait,” Moka says suddenly. “Did it inspire one of your stories?”
Although it was the reason you guys knew each other, you didn’t really want to talk about it. “I don’t remember.”
“The story you wrote with Sana.”
“I think so.”
“I loved it!”
“Oh, thank you,” you reply.
“I really like how you wrote their conflict and banter.”
You keep nodding, looking away, hoping she changes the topic.
“Especially the tension between them that keeps softening.”
“Talking about that, what did you think about Man-wol’s—”
She starts oversharing without realizing it: “I actually… uh… read your fic three times. In one night. I mean, not because I’m obsessed or anything—okay I am, but not in a weird way! Wait, that is weird—uh, forget I said that.”
She tries to change the subject but it backfires: “So, uh… what’s the wildest thing you’ve ever written? …Oh my god, why did I say that? Ignore me.”
“It’s okay…” you barely say. It is not okay.
Moka what are you doing??? Fix it. Fix it. Fix it. Say something normal.
“Fuck,” she mutters. “Uhm, writers ask each other that, right? Like, professionally.”
You don’t reply and keep quiet. You glance toward the door, it’s time to leave. This girl is weird.
Her stomach drops.
You shift slightly on the bed. “Maybe I should…”
“No!” Moka says, quick and sharp.
“I—I mean,” she scrambles. “W—wanna watch a movie?”
You hesitate, you’re almost standing up. Moka panics and grabs your sleeve. You react instinctively and get up from the bed.
“No, you can’t go yet! I mean… stay! Please stay. We haven’t even… um… finished our tea… I mean what’s left of it… I’ll make more! No, don’t get up, sit!”
Moka is awkwardly clinging into you. “Wait! Don’t go, I can… show you something! Not like… weird something. Unless… you want weird. Do you want weird?!”
You take another step back but she’s still holding onto your sleeve.
“I’m sorry, I’m so bad at this. I just… I like you. And I… I want to… do stuff with you. Like… not just studying. Freaky stuff.”
Moka goes fully red. “Ugh, I sound insane, don’t I?”
“No, you…”
“You hate me, right?”
“What?! No, I don’t hate you,” you say. “It was just really sudden. I think you’re nervous? I’m a bit nervous as well.”
“Is it something I did?”
“Maybe it’s just us, we’re a bit different and maybe we don’t vibe…”
“No please don’t say that,” Moka half yells at you. “I’ll do anything. Please stay. Let me apologize to you, I’ll… I’ll suck your cock!”
“What?”
“I’ll do it for real!” Moka says. “Just don’t go.”
Just as she says that Moka gets on her knees. You didn’t expect it, but she looks really sexy. You can peek at the shape of her ass and how small her waist is. Not to mention the crazy arch on her back right now and the look in her eyes.
You can feel yourself get hard in your pants. You can’t refuse her.
Moka doesn’t need an answer and puts her face right in your groin. Her hands come up to sloppily get your pants off and free your cock. She stops at your underwear. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are fixed on the bulge in front of her.
You can feel her nose touch you, and you slightly pull back. Moka is sniffing your bulge. Her nose is buried in your boxers, inhaling deeply your scent. She begins to nuzzle into you, her nose rubbing clumsily against your shape.
To think she was such a proper and nice student. Right now, she was acting more like a hungry animal, huffing and puffing hot breath into your boxers. Moka is already moaning and she still hasn’t seen your cock yet.
“Boy smell,” she whimpers. “It’s making me crazy.”
Moka looks up at you, pressing her cheek against your cock while maintaining eye contact. You can clearly see your penis getting harder and growing against her face, and there’s nothing you can do. She’s giggling and chuckling, pleased with your reaction.
“I love your smell,” she says. “It’s so manly. It’s so strong, it’s like… pheromones.” Moka giggles and sniffs you again. When she decides that she wants to do more, she takes a deep breath and pulls your underwear down.
Your cock springs open and nudges her nose. Moka pulls back with surprise and starts smiling widely at the sight.
“Your cock, finally…” she starts. “It looks so pretty up close.”
Her thin, delicate fingers wrap your cock from both sides, and she starts stroking you. Her eyes don’t leave your cockhead for even one second. They’re wide and glistening with wonder.
“It’s the first time I've seen a penis for real,” she says. She pronounces the word in a certain manner, giving a certain stress on the ‘p’.
Moka pulls out her tongue and drags it across the underside of your cock. She stops at the head where she takes it tentatively in her lips with a small kiss, just to feel your shape, and pulls back. Her mouth is watering uncontrollably and a drop of saliva leaves the corner of her lips, drooling down to her chin.
Moka opened her mouth wide and took you completely inside her mouth. Her tongue swirls around your head while her cheeks hollow out to suck you inside of her. Her eyes are closed as she focuses on slowly bobbing her head to properly service your cock.
Her blowjob is sloppy but it’s not amateurish. “Have you done this before?” you ask her.
Moka hums and steps back, letting her hands take the place of her mouth and stroke your wet cock. She smiles and giggles.
“You know,” she murmurs, “I’ve practiced it before. I have plenty of toys…”
Just as she said that, she went back to your cock. This time, she gripped the base of your cock with just one hand and took you in deeper, moving her head forward and back. Her suction was constant. She used her tongue to stroke your frenulum, get in the grooves under the head.
“It feels so good, Moka,” you say and adrenaline shoots through her. Your validation gives her the confidence she needs to give you everything she has.
“Please,” she huffs, “please put your hands on my head.”
You oblige and hold her head in place while stroking her hair with your thumbs. Moka gripped your thighs and lowered her jaw, sliding your penis violently to the back of her throat.
The impact made her choke, and she had to take a moment to calm down her gag reflex. Some tears rolled down her cheeks, and her nose wrinkled at the pain.
“Are you okay, Moka?” you said worryingly.
“I’m okay!” she replies. “Let me try again.”
Moka brushed her hair back and relaxed her throat. She pulled her tongue out and let you slide back inside her mouth. Your cock easily reached the back, and she held you there. You could feel the muscles of her throat constricting around you, squeezing and massaging your penis.
She was whimpering and tried as hard as possible to deepthroat you for longer, but she hadn’t practiced long enough.
Moka pulls out, and a large amount of thick spit flows down her mouth.
She’s laughing. “It’s harder than I thought.”
“Moka, that was… crazy,” you tell her. “Don’t need to do it again tho.”
“Okay,” she hums and starts sucking the head of your cock.
Her hand is pumping your cock while she sucks you.
It doesn’t take much longer until you have to tap her head. “I’m going to cum, Moka.”
“Please, cum in my mouth,” she begs, while her hand strokes you faster and faster. “I want to taste it.”
Moka pulls her tongue out and opens her mouth wide. She guides the tip right on it and you came. She could feel the warm load shooting to the roof of her mouth, splashing against her tongue and teeth. Some of it missed her target, splattering across her cheek, but it amused her more than anything.
When you were done, she flicked her tongue to collect the last bead of semen from your cock and swirled around the white liquid in her mouth. She played with it for a second before closing her eyes and gulping it down. Moka opened her mouth again, showing you how she swallowed it all.
“Shit, you didn’t have to do that, Moka,” you tell her
“Why? I like it,” she says. “You also wrote about it a lot, haven’t you?”
“I guess I did…”
“Don’t worry, you taste really really good.”
“That’s good to know…”
“Will you stay now?” Moka asks with her puppy eyes. “Please don’t leave.”
“No, no, I will stay,” you say. Of course, you would. Who else would leave after a pretty girl devoured their cock?
“Really?! Thank you!” Moka screams and jumps up.
She runs to her desk and opens her drawer to find something. You shouldn’t be surprised by know, you knew already what she was like but you were still shocked when she turned around. In her hands, she was holding some handcuffs.
At this point, you’re regretting what you had just told her. You have to leave. You really should but you can’t. Your pants are at your ankles and it would take too long to pull them back up. If you did try to run out with your cock out, you would stumble with your lowered pants and fall.
There was nothing you could do and as you were thinking about it one cuff was already locked on your wrist. Moka jumped on the bed and pulled you to the mattress. Everything happens too quickly. She locks your right wrist on the bedpost and before you know it, she pulls out a second pair of handcuffs and locks your other wrist as well.
You’re now lying on the bed with your arms spread out and locked onto the bed.
Moka is breathing like a wild animal. Her chest rapidly moves up and down and she’s literally drooling.
“I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t leave,” she says. “I’ve, um… read a lot. Like… a lot a lot. And I… kind of… want to try it all. With you. Is that too much? That’s too much, isn’t it?!”
Moka laughs and takes her shirt off. “I’m sure you’ll understand.”
You do. Your eyes are darting up and down between her small waist and her petite breats. Moka’s body is incredible. It’s slim and yet has incredibly erotic curves.
Next she removes her pants, revealing her drenched panties. There’s a visibly dark wet spot between her legs, glistening under the room light. Moka quickly takes them off as well, letting a string of her juices follow them down. She was literally dripping wet.
“I want you inside of me,” Moka mumbles. “I can’t think of anything else.” She climbs on the bed and moves towards you on her knees.
She stopped on top of your cock, with her shins pressing down on your thighs. There were drops of her juice falling down to your crotch.
“Wait, Moka, protection,” you say. You instinctively move but the handcuffs are holding you back.
“There’s no time for that,” she says.
Moka stretches her pussy open, letting you see the wetness that was inside of her. Then she lowers herself. Your penis stretches her open, and she starts moaning. You grit your teeth. Moka is incredibly tight, and you could already feel yourself almost cumming.
Her spin arches as she pushes you deeper into her. She stays there for a moment, letting her pussy clench and spasm around you.
Moka doesn’t take it slow. As soon as her body accommodates you, she starts riding you fast and hard. You’re watching her small breasts bounce, seeing her face as she bites her lip in concentration, and you can’t believe this is actually happening.
The pleasure was intense. Her tightness was excruciating; if it wasn’t for how wet she was, you wouldn’t be able to move inside of her at all.
Moka can see you struggle with your handcuffs. You had nothing to hold on to. The only way for you to handle the pleasure was to grit your teeth, which was becoming painful at this point. You wanted to grab her. You wanted to feel her body.
“You want me to free you?” Moka says between her moans.
“Yes!” you say.
“Okay, wait,” she mumbles and reluctantly stops riding you. She moves and grabs the key from the table and frees your hands.
As soon as you are free, you grab and push her down to the bed. Moka yelps but she loves it. With her ass up and her back arched, you get a firm grip of her waist and push your penis deep inside her.
Moka screams at the sudden force and moans nonstop as you fuck her roughly. You hammer into her, your balls slapping against her soaked pussy with every thrust.
From behind you can see her unbelievable grip. Her lips were clenching on your cock, stretching out as you left her pussy, not wanting to let you go.
“Please please please please,” Moka sobs. She’s lost in the pleasure. “Slap my ass, please!”
You don’t need her to repeat it. Your palm meets the flesh of her ass hard. The sting is sudden, and Moka screams with joy. You slap her again and again until her cheeks become red.
“You like that, slut?”
“Yes, yes, I love it!” Moka screams. “Oh god, yes right there!”
Moka is creaming all over your cock. The mix of your precum and her juice, thanks to the movement of your sex, was frothing a thick white cream, slowly creeping out of her pussy.
Her body was so delicate and feminine. Her whole body shook with every thrust, her legs trembling as you pounded into her. You want to break her, but her slender body took every blow and made her pussy squeeze you tight. If anything, she was breaking you. Your glutes are burning, but you can’t give up.
Not much longer, you’re both incredibly close. You’re pistoning into her harder and harder.
“I’m going to cum!” she yells.
You’re going to cum as well. You want to bury your dick inside of her and pump her uterus full of cum but a second before you blow, something flashes in your mind. The responsibility of a kid, having to drop college, working at a supermarket… you pull out.
You groan as you cum all over her back. Moka rolls her eyes back into her skull and screams as her pussy violently sprays a stream of squirt on the bed. Her body shakes violently as more streams of liquid leave her pussy, drenching everything.
After her orgasm is over, Moka collapses on the bed. She can’t of anything anymore, her mind is completely blank. You pass out next to her.
It takes her a couple of minutes to come back into the real world when she notices the warmth of her back.
“You came on my back?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you answer weakly.
“What a waste.”
“I didn’t want to get you pregnant.”
“I’ll start taking the pill,” Moka says. “So you can cum inside of me all you want.”
You listen quietly to her words, astonished at how erotic they sound, but more than that, you think about the implication—that there will be a next time. If that’s how amazing she is, you might consider it. It was Moka after all.
“Sorry, I’m kinda awkward, and I’m not used to this stuff…” Moka starts, crouching next to you. There’s a tenderness in her words that you had almost forgotten during the previous session. “I hope you’ll take care of me,” she says sheepishly, “and there’s a lot more stuff we have to try.”
You gulp. What have you gotten yourself into?
-
“Hey, what do you think about this?”
“No, Moka, I’m not fucking you in a M&M suit.”
The softness of her tummy and the shape... it's honestly insane. No midriff is like Minjeong
