I'm JR, but you can call me choccy/Mac. INTP-T and trying to create my own brand of writing. recently on the writing industry, so please bear with me hehe.
since I have done some write-ups, I'll put my finished works here, and put it on a tag for easy access.
for now, my done write-ups are:
UNTITLED SERIES
UNTITLED (WIFE JEONGYEON)
UNTITLED (YANDERE JIHYO)
UNTITLED (LOVEY-DOVEY SANA & DAHYUN SISTERS)
UNTITLED (POSSESSIVE CHAEYOUNG)
UNTITLED (FUTA MOMO)
UNTITLED (YANDERE JEONGYEON)
UNTITLED (EX DAHYUN)
MY MESSY HEADCANONS
YANDERE TWICE
POSSESSIVE ITZY
ONESHOTS
CHAEYOUNG'S DAY
(CHAE-0423)
SUNDAY MORNING WITH LILY
BULLY JINNI
DON'T MESS WITH EX-GF DAHYUN
QUICKIE SMUT WITH YERIM
NTR SCENARIO IN FRONT OF LILY
LATE NIGHT VIDEO CALL
THE WORK IS FINALLY OUT
HOME RUN TO YOUR HEART
there you have it, my list. hopefully I don't ran out of idea juice even if I'm busy in my school and my personal life. pagyamanan!
Part of my BLACKED Baddies shorts, see my masterlist for more chapters.
1.2k words.
Karina's eyes widened at the sight of an African refugees massive BBC. With a shaky hand she reached out to grab it, feeling the strong pulse throbbing against her palm. Her mouth fell open when she began to stroke, watching it flop in her hands a bit, realizing he wasn't even fully hard.
Karina gasped, drooling as she stroked with both hands. She felt the carpet against her knees, and the touch of his ebony thighs around her torso. She leaned forward, pressing her pursed lips to the head to give it a tender kiss.
Her tongue pressed forward, tasting her first black cock, inhaling the musk that filled her nose. Her right eye twitched and she felt the thoughts within her head melting into a a warm wave of bliss rolling down her spine.
Hawk tuah! Karina spit on that thang and covered it in a layer of glistening sheen that her hands stroked into the dark African meat. Her lips wrapped around the head, eagerly parting to let it slide across her wet tongue and into the back of her throat.
GLUCK! GLUCK! AAH! GLUCK! She started to blow him between loud gasps for air. She could only fit half into her mouth, stroking him desperately with both hands covered in her own spit. The bull groaned, placing both hands on her head to hold her in place, preventing her from lifting off of his BBC.
His hips thrusted upward, jamming his big black cock into the back of her throat with force. Karina let out a muffled scream, but the bull kept going, grunting as he used her throat like a fleshlight for his own pleasure.
Her hands slapped at his thighs and abs, begging him to stop, but only motivated him to keep going. "I'm here to fuck all the women!" he groaned, pushing Karina down on his cock until she was gagging violently, her eyes rolling back until they were nearly solid white.
He gave her cheek a slap, then released her and watched Karina gasp for air, her chest heaving as she sat back against the coffee table behind her. Her throat stung as she panted, wiping the spit from her chin that had soaked into her black REFUGEES WELCOME shirt with a black fist in the middle of the Korean flag.
The bull stood up and grabbed her hair in his hand, motioning for her to follow him. "No!" he said when she tried to stand up, "I'll walk you like the slut you are."
Karina crawled on all fours beside him, following with her heavy tits sagging down against the fabric of her shirt. Her pale, naked ass in the air swayed side-to-side as he led her across the room, passing by other bulls who were hammering black cock into screaming Korean women.
The sliding door of the patio opened and Karina felt the hard concrete against her palms and knees as he led her to a beach chair and pointed for her to get on it. Karina climbed up and felt his hands on her waist, flipping her onto her back.
"Let me have those big ass titties," he said, pushing the shirt up to reveal her braless, pale, fat tits. He slapped his wet BBC between them and Karina moaned deeply, feeling the power and heft of his black cock as it thumped against her soft skin.
"Mmm, fuck my big Korean tits!" Karina blurted out, lifting her hands to the sides of her chest to press them together around the ebony pole between them.
Karina watched a pair of hands coil around the bulls sides, and then the face of Giselle smiling down at her. "That's it, fuck those big tits," Giselle said to him in a soft, encouraging voice. "They're what you came here for, aren't they? Big asian tits and tight little Korean pussies to breed."
The bull groaned, his hips thrusting back and forth between Karina's fleshy melons engulfing his dark cock. She felt the head poking at her neck with every thrust, peeking out from under the top of her shirt and occasionally trying to slip under her choker necklace.
Karina's head spun with lust, her toes curling the moment that Giselle lowered her face to her pussy to start licking it. Karina let out a long, low moan of satisfaction, closing her eyes and arching her back.
Giselle shoved a couple fingers in without warning, working them back and forth inside Karina, her thumb working circles on her sensitive clit to drive her mad. Karina breathed deeply in sharp breaths, her thighs beginning to shake, chest turning red.
The bull reached down with both hands and wrapped them around her neck, his thumbs pressing the head of his black cock against her throat as he fucked her busty chest. Karina's eyes rolled, but the grip on her squishy boobs never relaxed, and she kept them pressed hard around the BBC pumping between them.
Karina let out a moan, kicking her foot as Giselle shoved her tongue into her cunt, drilling into it with her fingers and nuzzling her nose right up against the clit. It was too much for Karina, her head was swimming, and she felt like she would pass out from the pleasure.
The bull pressed down harder and Karina felt his weight on her throat, choking her until her cheeks turned a rosy red hue. She wanted to grab at his wrists, but she kept her hands around her tits, refusing to let go until he told her to.
The bull groaned as his BBC slipped under the choker, pinning his head in place as he began to spurt a series of hot ropes across Karina's chin and neck. She felt the pulsing his shaft, the flowing hot ropes of cum shooting up her chin before running down her neck and into her dark hair.
He gave her a few more pumps, then pulled his BBC back and slapped it wetly against each breast before leaving her and Giselle. "I'm gonna..." Karina panted, pinching her nipples and twisting them, pulling her sagging breasts upward with a scream.
Karina began to squirt all over Giselle's face, coating her lips and tongue, and Giselle ate it up hungrily while continuing to lick and finger until Karina fell limp with rolling eyes.
Giselle crawled up Karina's body, hovering over her with cum dripping from her lips and chin, glistening brightly. She lowered her head to lick the cum from Karina's neck, lapping it up and ending with a soft bite into her flesh.
She dragged her tongue along Karina's throat, up her chin, and then to her lips, sliding into her mouth to deposit the bull's load. Karina's eyes rolled in circles, she moaned deeply, a hand reaching up to pull Giselle in deeper.
They swapped the load back and forth with sloppy open-mouthed kisses, their tongues twisting together, pushing against each other, lips meeting until the cum had all been swallowed.
Giselle pulled back and caressed Karina's cheek, looking deep into her eyes. They kissed one last time, and Giselle grabbed a handful of Karina's left tit to squeeze as she did so.
The night was still young and the black breeding party had just started, there were more men inside waiting for their welcome to Korea, and the two of them were more than happy to give it to them.
"Let's get these big black cocks," Giselle grinned, taking Karina by the hand to lead her back to the party.
I'm not going to warn you. The first line should be enough to know what you are getting into.
Rei's pussy is a spire the way you slay it, your cock is a spire the way she
slays it. You could call it Slay The Spire 2…
But let's back up, there was a bit more before that.
The night started simply, Liz told you to BEGONE! So you went over to your best friend's house. You knocked on her door, she was half naked with her headphones on. Both excited and unexcited to see you, she dragged you in before you could think of an Escape Plan.
She pushes you to her bedroom, Lifting you up the stairs. You'd never guess what's on her computer monitor, hey at least she's on Aeonglass. She must be a Master of Strategy, where were you?
Oh yeah, the 'fucking' thing.
There wasn't any Prep Time. "You interrupted my gaming, so you will be my game." She groans, pushing you onto her comfy bed– adorned with all the Slay The Spire makeship plushies money could buy, "Understood?"
"Yes, Rei."
"It's the Reigent to you."
You are so not calling her that, she's quick to Expose her lower half in one go. Pattering over as she climbed over your face. More accurately you are Crushed Under the weight of Rei's pussy on your mouth, but that's more a blessing than a curse. You greet her instantly, letting her ride your tongue. There's No Escape from the pace she sets, fast and hard as all of her taste hits you.
"Know Thy Place!" She moans, rolling her hips, holding on to the headboard and using you for her pleasure. You aren't above showing Greed, drinking up all of her, feasting on her cunt more than just what was allowed. Perhaps that is what this is, an endless Folly.
But if this is your Folly, may you toil eternally.
You moan, she moans, the soundtrack of her game is the backdrop for all of these sounds. "Fuck! Mm, that's a good interruption, pretty glad you are here, fuck." Rei Monologues, while you Prolong your actions. Oxygen is irrelevant right now.
Though evidently, sexual action with Rei is just like the game, being turn based. Now its your turn, an Energy Surge empowers you to push her off your face. She falls into her mattress and you are Unrelenting, grabbing her thick thighs and pulling close.
She trembles as your tongue is back up against her, this time though its fully in your control. Through sheer True Grit you devour her, it's erotic, filthy and disrespectful. Her wetness gets smeared all over your lips, the corners of your mouth. If you are her game and the win-condition is an orgasm.
You will Make It So.
"Mmh!" You have to keep Rei on the bed, her legs actively trying to Defy and reach Act Three. She's the best elite combat you've ever had, she's in a Haze while you keep up your combo. Rei's whining and the games truly back, two of your fingers join in. Thrusting in and out, doing some Hand Tricks. Hitting all the right spots, sucking her clit.
It's all a Well-Laid Plan, your eyes look up at her, her mouth's agape, she's so close.
"I'm, gonna, gonna cum!" That's a Victory? The orgasm has her Glowing, gushing all over your fingers and her sheets. You Wish to be in this moment forever, but the show isn't over yet. Rei recovers in a Blur, suddenly she's back up and your pants are down.
"Let me see what you are working with." She treats your cock like the Ironclad's sword, holding it firmly. Spitting on tip and rubbing it in recklessly. "Let me Stoke it a little, get you ready for what's to come."
She does just that, making out with you as her hand pumps you, both of you Huddled Together. Rei's hand is warm, really warm. It feels like the Brightest Flame. Fuck.
Rei's shamelessly sticking her tongue as deep into your mouth as you did her hole. Her spit mixes with yours (there's a lot of it.) Sloppily making out while she gets to terms with your cock. She's The Smith the way she's made you harder than a steel beam.
Her lips pull off yours and you are Dazed. "There's so much I could do, suck your cock until you shoot it down my throat. Or I could slide it in, ride it until you pass out. Maybe I could push my thighs around it, lift up and down until you helplessly spurt all over them. Decisions, Decisions."
Rei has her mind made up, truly in Demon Form as she pushes you down. "So big, so hard." You breathe heavily as your tip is brushing against her, a Tremble while Rei rubs against you, it's bliss, hell, how quickly she's got you Enthralled.
"This cock is going deep inside me, I need it so badly." With that, Rei Follows Through, slipping down and engulfing every inch of you. She's intoxicating, like taking every Elite even though you know it's a bad idea. You just lay there and take it, she bounces and you watch your cock come out wetter than it was before.
She's quick, a Bombardment of bounces, skin slapping against each other. Rei is a very adamant woman, nothing is going to stop her from riding you like the world's going to explode. Not even an Heirloom Hammer to the face.
"You are going to see stars, generate stars, whatever, fuck." Well logic was out of the window awhile ago, you are just happen to get Bury'd deep inside of Rei. She's so horny that she can't maintain rhythm, just chasing her Ascension 10. you both knew from the moment you began you were on Borrowed Time.
And now here you are, back at the beginning. Rei's the spire and you are the spire, she's delivering her attempt to finish the game by making you finish. Her turn's not over yet, being inside her raw has truly Captured your Spirit.
Sweat shines on her deliciously smooth skin, if her hands weren't forcing you into the bed you'd lick it all clean. Ravage her body like the eager slut you are. But you are always Thinking Ahead, and when she starts to slow you say nothing. Just pick her up and throw her back onto the bed. Your sex is the true roguelike experience, pick a different build (face riding, cock riding) and still go onto the same route.
How poetic.
You pounce onto her, sliding into her cunt at the same time you are on top of her. Your dick must be enchanted with Momentum the way her moans get louder with every time you push deep, targeting the right spots. "Fuck ne harder, fuck!"
You lick all the salty sweat off her skin, it turns you on so much that you throb helplessly inside of her. But this is not where the run ends, you are far too Feral. "Oh, oh my god, okay! Fuck me, fuck me harder!" You were surprised you were even able to, Overlocking your thrusts and Doubling your Energy. Everything to make Rei feel euphoric, even if you have to Scavenge the power to keep going.
"I, your cock is so good! I can't hol-" Rei gives up, cumming her brains out as you plow her through it. impressive how you don't follow, she Claw's at your back while you pound her like a Osty. You are fucking her full, the only thing left to do is…
Your orgasm Rattles you, dumping your thick load deep inside, filing her to the brim– you are truly the Conqueror to her spire, hitting the Knockup Blow instead of the Knockout Blow. The legend, another Victory? Her walls milk more of your cum out. she's bred, happy.
But, there's four acts.
Something happens, a spark, you've been fucking on video game logic and this is no different. A few minutes and you are inside Rei's tight asshole, lube was the three keys. This is the summit, you've never been here before but your memory is crystal clear.
Normally you fight a spear, this time you are the spear, spearing inside of her. The easiest way to a girl's heart is to make her cum, so it seems like you will be finishing this final act. Rei's ass cheeks Thunderclap with every thrust, it's total Havoc. It's sort of like a multiplayer card, you pound her ass like she begs and she fingers her cum filled pussy.
Teamwork.
You continue to Heavenly Drill the another orgasm out of her, another shriek and more. No matter how many times you make her cum, you never seen to get further in winning the fight. An infinite stalemate, though her juices Splash off her fingers and into the bed, which is close enough to a victory.
"Please, treat my ass however you want! Fuck, keep going!" The entire street hears it, a Countdown is active. You can only go for so long, a final Spur to make sure this orgasm is The Bomb. "More, please, please, please, I Am Invincible I can take it!"
Helix, Heavenly, what does it matter? You are drilling her, time is drawing to an end. You are Doomed, flooding her asshole with a load of it's own, that's the true Victory. Rei completely dripping, both your cum and her sheer arousal. Converged into one.
It's complete Mind Rot when you pull out, watching it flow out all into a pile, your body is Withering. This run might be over. But you and Rei can definitely do another some other time.
"That was really… really good. You are my new fuck toy, got it?"
Jisoo delicately raises the skirt of her dress while she mounts your cock, her pink slit sliding down your shaft until it kisses your crotch. Her insides are warm, soft, and wet, massaging your manhood with elegance and restraint. Jisoo is nothing if not a proper girl... 😌
The outdoor student festival was packed with horny college guys when Sakura from LE SSERAFIM took the stage in her tight white crop top. Her massive, heavy tits were barely contained by the thin fabric, already bouncing and jiggling with every step.
As soon as the music started, Sakura began dancing energetically — jumping, whipping her pink ponytail, and thrusting her chest forward. Her big, soft breasts bounced heavily up and down inside the top, drawing every eye in the crowd.
The students started losing their minds:
“Fuck… look at Sakura’s huge tits bouncing!” “Bro, they’re so fucking big… I’m getting hard already!” “Goddamn those fat tits are shaking like crazy!” “Holy shit, every time she moves they flop around… I’m leaking in my pants!”
Sakura smirked, clearly noticing the sea of bulges in front of the stage. She got even bolder — raising both arms high above her head, arching her back and pushing her massive chest out even more. Her heavy breasts strained against the crop top, nipples faintly visible as they jiggled freely with the beat.
“FUCK YES SAKURA! SHAKE THOSE BIG TITS!” one guy screamed. “I’m so fucking hard right now, her boobs are perfect!” “Those fat udders are gonna make me cum hands-free!” “Noona please jump harder, I want to see them bounce more!!”
She continued performing, spinning and whipping her hair while her enormous tits slapped and bounced wildly. The more she danced, the louder the crowd of students got, many of them openly adjusting their obvious erections while staring at her chest.
Sakura bit her lip and gave them a naughty little smile, clearly enjoying how her big, heavy breasts were stealing the entire show.
Synopsis: Eunha's birthday gift is a male black american waiting for her in the hotel.
"Are you two fucking serious right now? Is this some kind of a prank?"
"Why would we prank you on your special day? We're not kids anymore." SinB scoffs as she parked the car at the one of the luxurious gangnam hotels. They are celebrating Eunha's birthday. Eunha, eldest of them are being pushed by her two friends to the hotel.
"Wait, Girls! Can you two please just tell me what is it? I thought we are going to the club."
"Nope. You will find out, once we arrived."
"Come on, Unnie. We know you will love our gift for you there. He's hot by the way." SinB panickly closed Umji's mouth.
Eunha aburptly stopped walking. "W-What? What did you just said?"
"Nothing. Umji is just blabbering nonsense. Come on, Walk!" SinB continued to drag Eunha towards to the elevator.
As soon as they entered the elevator, SinB pressed the button for their floor before Eunha thinks about running away.
"Don't worry, Everything is fine. You will thank us later." SinB winked at Eunha.
It didn't take long until the elevator opens and the two dragged her again. Eunha was practically helpless at this point. All she know is the initial plan is to shop dresses at the mall to wear for the club. She wanted to show off her chosen dress, drink alcohol and dance like there's no tomorrow. Maybe she can score man to have sex with.
Once they entered a booked room, they heard a bathroom door closing. Eunha was so shocked to see a black american man. He's bald, clean shaven and full muscles. His eight pack abs are peeking through the tiny gap of his white bathrobe.
"Wh-what…what is this?"
Umji stepped forward, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Happy birthday, Unnie! We knew exactly what you wanted, and we made it happen."
SinB nodded in agreement, her own smile gleaming with excitement. "Yeah, and isn't he just perfect? Tall, strong, and gorgeous…"
Eunha remembered what she said last week when Umji asked her what she want for her birthday.
"Unnie, What do you want to get for your birthday next week?"
Eunha taps her chin as she thinks about it. "Hmmm~~ This time, I wanted... a tall, muscular black man."
Eunha saw their shocked expression and laughed. "Just kidding!"
"B-But... I'm just joking, girls! It wasn't meant to be serious!"
SinB's warm breath tickled Eunha's ear as she whispered. "We know you were just pretending, but you really do want this. And now, a man of your fantasies is right there."
Umji chimed in, her voice laced with playful encouragement. "Just relax, Unnie. Aaron will take care of you tonight. You deserve this special treat on your birthday."
"Honestly. We wanted to join but since it's your special day, Me and Umji will go to the club as planned."
Umji and SinB walked to the door, before they exit the room. SinB looked at Eunha then on Aaron behind Eunha. "And oh, Aaron. She's on a pill, Don't hold back." They giggled as they left Eunha with a stranger in the hotel room.
The door clicked shut. Sealing Eunha with a man she never met before. Aaron walked closely to Eunha and placed his hands on her shoulders. Trying his best to make Eunha feel comfortable first and holding himself back from throwing Eunha to the bed and do the deed.
Aaron's touch sent a jolt of electricity through Eunha's body, making her skin tingle. She swallowed hard, trying to calm her racing heart as she met his intense gaze.
"Hey, sweetie. I'm glad to finally meet you. Your friends told me all about you."
Eunha found herself drawn to his presence, her defenses crumbling under his gentle yet firm touch. She nodded shyly, unable to tear her eyes away from him. "I… I didn't expect all of this. I've never been with a black man before."
Aaron's thumbs stroked her shoulders soothingly. "It's fine. Let's get to know each other better, okay? And when you're ready, we'll explore all the naughty things you've been craving."
Aaron led Eunha to sit with him at the edge of the bed. He pushed her pink hair to the side to expose her ear and neck. Aaron started to press gentle kisses from her shoulder blades up to her nape.
Eunha's lips parted, breathing heavy, eyes closed, hands stayed on her lap as she unconsciously tilted her head for more access.
Her breath hitched as his hands slid up her forearms, fingers gently kneading her flesh. "Mmm, you taste so sweet."
Eunha's hands finally moved, drifting up to rest on Aaron's muscular chest. She could feel the heat from his body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoing her own frantic rhythm. Her hips shifted subtly, pressing closer to him as if seeking warmth and comfort in his solid embrace.
Aaron's thumb brushed over Eunha's lower lip, silently urging to part them further. As she complied, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a slow, sensual kiss. His tongue slid inside, Eunha willingly do tongue-to-tongue as she wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen their kiss.
Breaking the kiss, Aaron gazed at her with smoldering intensity. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined. Now, let's get you out of this lovely dress."
Eunha slowly nodded. She unzips the zipper behind, pulled down the straps of her dress. The fabric falls down on the floor. Leaving her bare with only white lace panties that already wet.
Aaron just looked at almost bare naked Eunha. Her skin is white as snow, plump body figure, breasts are around size D and thick thighs.
Aaron's eyes roved over Eunha's naked form, drinking in every curve and contour. For a moment, he simply looked at her from head to toe.
His silence made Eunha nervous and looked at herself. "W-Why are you silent? Is my body... not good? Am I fat?"
"Eunha, you're stunning." Aaron breathed, his voice low and husky. "Every inch of you is perfect. Don't ever doubt that."
He reached out, tracing a finger along her collarbone, down to the valley between her breasts. "Your body is a work of art, baby girl. And I can't wait to explore every inch of it."
Eunha's breath caught as his finger circled her nipple, teasing it into hardness. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaped her lips. "P-Please, Aaron... Touch me more…"
Aaron chuckled darkly at Eunha's desperation. "Oh, I will. But first, let me get you comfortable at bed." He guide her to lay down on the bed then untied his bathrobe.
Eunha gasped as she roamed her gaze at Aaron's naked body. His bicpes, hard chest, abs then his monstrous cock.
Eunha's eyes widened as she saw the size of Aaron's cock. It towered above her, thick and veiny, the tip glistening with precum. She couldn't help but compare it to her own arm, marveling at the length of it.
"Aaron, it's so big!" Despite her nervousness, she was excited at the thought of being stretched by such a massive cock.
Aaron climbed onto the bed, his muscular frame looming over her. He reached down, grasping her wrist and guiding her hand to wrap around his cock. "Feel how hard I am for you, baby girl. I'm gonna fill you up so good, stretch your korean pussy to its limits…"
Eunha gulped at his words. She held his cock by her two hands, she stroked him carefully. Testing waters. She felt the warmth and weight of Aaron's cock. It twitches at every slow stroke she does.
"C-Can I.. I.. Taste you?"
"Of course, baby girl. Take your time, enjoy every inch of my cock."
Eunha's tongue darted out, licking a slow trail up the underside of Aaron's shaft. She savored the salty-sweet flavor of his precum, her eyes closed as she explored the ridges and veins.
"Mmm, you taste amazing." she murmured, her confidence growing with each pass of her lips and tongue. She wrapped her mouth around the head, sucking gently as her hand continued to stroke him.
"Fuck... That's it, sweetheart… Show me what you're made of…"
Eunha started to suck him inch by inch deep. Her mouth stretched as she tries her best to accomodate his monstrous cock inside her mouth. She seen this countless times on adult videos, she was amazed on how porn actresses do it with ease.
Aaron watched as Eunha struggled to take him deeper, her cheeks hollowing with effort. Though impressed by her determination, he knew pushing too far to it's limits will hurt her. Eunha thought she can do it but the gag reflex kicked in.
As she pulled back, coughing and gasping for air, Aaron cupped her face tenderly. "Easy, baby girl. No need to rush. We have all night."
He guided her head back down, letting her set the pace as she licked and sucked at his cock, gradually building up her endurance. "You're doing great, sweetheart. Just keep going, nice and slow…"
Eunha lets out a lewd slurping sounds and gags on his cock again as she tries her best to take more of his cock. Slowly, her throat relaxed and gave way. Her saliva leaked more from her mouth, tears on her cheeks that ruined her make-up as she bopping her head up and down.
Aaron's cock throbbed in Eunha's mouth as she finally managed to swallow more of his length. Her efforts were rewarded with his hips bucking slightly, grinding against her face.
"Mmmph, fuck yeah… That's it, take it all." Aaron groaned, his grip on her hair tightening a bit. "Look at you, such a good little cocksucker…"
Eunha's tears mingled with the saliva dripping down her chin as she bobbed her head faster, eager to please Aaron.
"You're doing so well, baby girl… I can tell you're loving this." Aaron panted, he can feel his orgasm building up. "Gonna cum soon, gonna fill your greedy throat…"
Eunha redoubled her efforts, determined to make Aaron cum in her mouth. She increased the suction, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock as she took him deeper still.
"Fuck, here it comes!"
Thick ropes of hot cum flooded her mouth, coating her tongue and filling her cheeks. Eunha struggled to swallow it all, her throat working overtime to accommodate Aaron's copious release.
Finally, he pulled Eunha off his spent cock with a satisfied grunt. "Damn, you're so good using your pretty mouth." he praised, wiping a stray strand of hair from her sweaty forehead.
Eunha fell down on the bed, coughing a bit. She couldn't believe that she finally sucked a big black cock that she always fantasized for so long.
Aaron gave her a bottled water.
Eunha gratefully accepted the water from Aaron, taking a long sip to soothe her throat. "That was… intense. I never thought I'd actually get to do something like that for a cock like yours."
Aaron smiled, crawling onto the bed beside her. "And you did amazingly well, considering it was your first time on my size." he said, running a comforting hand over her hip. "You've got a natural talent for pleasing men."
Eunha blushed at the compliment, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. Eunha knows this is just a start, she can see herself not able to walk straight in the morning.
After couple of minutes, Eunha broke the silence. "I think.. I'm ready for another round, Aaron." She removed her soaked panties and spread her legs wide.
Aaron growled at the sight of Eunha's wet pussy, his cock already hard and ready for another round. He leaned in, capturing Eunha's lips in a searing kiss as his hand slid down her body to tease her slick folds.
"You're insatiable, aren't you?" he murmured against her mouth, his fingers circling her clit. "I love it."
"Do you think... I can take it? I mean your whole cock inside my pussy. It's really so big."
Aaron chuckled darkly at Eunha's concern, he continued fingering her clit. "Don't worry, baby girl. Your tight little cunt is made for my cock. It'll stretch to fit me perfectly."
"If you're curious. Here, let me show you." Aaron slid down to position between her legs. He just placed his cock atop of her tummy. Eunha gasped as she saw the tip of his cock is few inches over her belly button, if he's balls deep inside of her.
"Oh my... Nobody can reach that high. You're... You're going to break me, Aaron."
He lined himself up with her entrance, the fat head of his cock pressing insistently against her slick folds. "Just relax and let me in. Trust me, you won't regret it…"
With a deep groan, Eunha's body yielding to the pressure of his thick cock. Inch by inch, he sank into her welcoming heat, stretching her inner walls to their limit.
"Ahhhn, fuuuccckkk…" Eunha moaned, her nails digging into Aaron's back as he filled her completely. "So big… Feels like you're splitting me open!"
Aaron paused, giving her a moment to adjust to the intense fullness. Then, with a slow thrust, he began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before plunging back in to the hilt.
"Fuuuck, you're so tight!" Aaron groaned, setting a steady rhythm. "Gonna ride this sweet pussy all night long…"
Eunha's moans grew louder and more urgent as Aaron's thrusts hits her cervix. "Fuckkk... So deep... So full..."
She glanced down, mesmerized by the sight of Aaron's cock disappearing into her stretched-out pussy, the bulge of her belly with each powerful thrust. It making her clench around him even tighter.
"Oh god, Aaron! Your cock is breaking me!" Eunha cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily to meet his thrusts. "I can feel you in my stomach! Your cock ruining me!"
Aaron lifted her legs to place it on his shoulders for a mating press. Aaron's new position allowed him to drill even deeper into Eunha's quivering depths, his thick cock repeatedly grazing her sensitive G-spot. Eunha's screams echoed off the hotel walls as she was thoroughly ravaged by his massive cock.
"Yes, yes, fuck me harder!" she wailed, her nails raking down Aaron's arms as she lost herself to the overwhelming pleasure. "Fuck me harder! Ruin my fucking cunt!"
Aaron pistoned into her with wild abandon, turned on by her cries. His heavy balls slapped against her ass with each brutal thrust.
"Fill me up! Please! I… I'm almost! Almost! Aghhh!!"
Eunha's pussy convulsing wildly around Aaron's pistoning cock. A torrent of squirt erupted from her core, drenching Aaron's cock and thighs as she squirted uncontrollably. It ruined the bed sheets as well.
But Aaron didn't stop, driven by his own impending orgasm. He continued to pound into Eunha's spasming cunt with ruthless intensity, chasing his own release. "I'm gonna fill your greedy pussy!"
With a guttural roar, Aaron buried himself to the hilt and exploded, his massive cock throbbing as it pumped jet after jet of cum deep into Eunha. He filled her to the brim, his seed flooding her womb. Too much that some leaked from it.
As Aaron withdrew his spent cock, a river of cum poured out of Eunha's gaping pussy, coating her thighs and the sheets beneath her. She shuddered at the loss of his warmth, her body still trembling from the force of her own orgasm.
"Wow… Just… Wow..." Eunha breathed, staring down at the mess between her legs in awe.
Aaron flopped down beside her, chest heaving as he caught his breath. "Fucking amazing." he agreed, a satisfied grin on his face. "You took my cock like a pro, baby girl."
Eunha and Aaron stared at the ceiling for a while then she faced him and leans forward for a kiss. Aaron and Eunha started making out.
Their kiss broke because Eunha felt Aaron's still erect cock pressed against her tummy. She was surprised to see it was still erect after two rounds. Eunha gave his cock a slow stroke by her hand. "Oh my gosh... your big guy is insane."
Aaron's cock twitched under Eunha's touch, growing stiff and throbbing once more. "It means I'm not done with you, sweetheart." he rasped, his hand groped her ass possessively. "Think you can handle another round?"
Eunha bit her lip, her gaze flickering down to his cock. Despite the exhaustion and soreness, she wanted more. She wanted this moment to become unforgettable for her.
"I… I think I can try." she whispered, her fingers trailing down to teasingly caress his heavy balls. "But maybe we should take a short break first? My pussy might need some time…"
"Who said I'm going to fuck your pussy again?" Aaron's finger rubbed around her butthole. That made Eunha surprised as she realized what his words meant.
"Aaron.. I.... I never had anal before."
"Well, well, well… Looks like we're gonna have some fun tonight after all." his fingers continuing to circle her butthole.
"Don't worry, baby. I'll go nice and slow, making sure you have the best anal experience ever." Aaron reassured her, leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.
Breaking the kiss, Aaron puts Eunha all fours. He reached out to grab a bottle of lube from the bedside table. Pops it open and slowly rubbing it around her tight butthole.
Eunha gasped loudly as she felt the cold liquid on her butthole. She gulped hard, trying to relax herself despite she knows first time anal is going to be hurt especially when a cock like Aaron's going to penetrate it.
Eunha tries to rocked her hips against his fingers but Aaron held her down. Eunha was going to plead when Aaron's middle slid inside of her tight butthole. Putting more lube inside of her.
Eunha's scream of surprise turned to a whine of discomfort as Aaron's finger pushed past her sphincter, breaching her untouched hole. Her body tensed, muscles clenching reflexively around the invading digit.
"Shh, easy now. Just relax and let me in. You're doing great, baby."
Slowly, deliberately, he worked his finger deeper, savoring the tightness around his finger. Eunha's initial resistance gave way to a strange, tingling sensation as her body began to accommodate his lubed finger.
Aaron added a second finger, gently pumping them in and out of her clenched passage. He curled them slightly, seeking that spot. Eunha's moans grew softer, her hips beginning to rock in time with Aaron's movements.
After couple of minutes he stopped fingering her butthole. Aaron puts the remaining amount of lube around his cock then pressed gently against her butthole.
"3…" With a steady push, Aaron surged forward, his engorged member spearing into Eunha's virgin butthole. "Aaahhhh!! FUUUCCCKK!! YOU'RE BREAKING ME!" She cried out, her body arching as searing pain ripped through her.
"It's okay, just breathe." Aaron murmured, pausing to let her adjust. "You're doing so good so far."
Gradually, he began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Eunha whimpered, her hands fisting in the sheets as she struggled to manage the pain.
It takes time for Eunha to feel the pleasure of anal sex. As Eunha's moans grew louder and more frequent, Aaron's pace quickened, his cock driving deeper into her.
Her drool dripped onto the pillow as she panted and whimpered. Aaron lifted her upright, her body pressed against Aaron's. He kissed her fiercely, swallowing her moans as his fingers worked her clit in tandem with his thrusts.
Suddenly, Eunha's body twitching violently, her vision blurring as she squirted again. Her butthole clenched and spasmed at the time of her orgasm.
"So tight and hot, baby." Aaron growled, his own climax building. "Take my load deep inside your ass."
Aaron slammed into Eunha's butthole, burying his cock to the hilt. His cock pulsed and throbbed as he unloaded a torrent of hot, sticky cum inside of her ass.
"So… full.. I feel… full.. Oh God.."
They remained locked together, Aaron's cock still lodged inside her, as they both rode out the waves of their shared climax. Finally, with a contented sigh, Aaron pulled out, his cum oozing out of Eunha's stretched, well-fucked butthole.
"Hey, sweetheart. How about a nice and warm shower together, hm?" Eunha squealed when Aaron picked her up in a bridal style and lead themselves to the spacious bathroom.
Under the steaming spray of the shower, Aaron cradled Eunha against his chest, his strong arms supporting her weak form. Rivulets of water cascaded down their entwined bodies, washing away the evidence of their intense lovemaking.
"You were amazing tonight, baby." Aaron praised, his lips finding hers in a tender kiss. "I've never had a woman take everything I gave like you did."
Eunha smiled dreamily, her eyelids heavy with satisfaction. "And I've never felt so completely owned and fucked. You fucked me well on my birthday, Aaron."
Aaron suddenly lifted her up, Eunha's arms and legs instantly wrapped around him as she felt his cock penetrates her pussy once again.
Eunha shrieked as Aaron impaled her on his cock once more, her slick walls embracing his cock with ease. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, her heels digging into his ass as she began to bounce on his lap, eagerly meeting each of his upward thrusts.
The water pounded against their joined bodies, steam swirling around them as they lost themselves of fucking their brains out. Eunha's breasts jiggled with every movement, her nipples hard and aching for attention.
"Aaron! Yes, yes, harder!" she cried out, her nails raking down his back. "Fill me up again!" Aaron gripped her ass, slamming her down onto his cock.
Aaron pushed her against the foggy shower divider. Eunha's head banged against the glass as Aaron drove into her with savage intensity, his pelvis slapping against her ass with each brutal thrust. Water splashed around them, steam obscuring their figures as they fucked like animals.
"Yes, yes, fuck me hard! Make mu body sore! Make me hard to walk tomorrow morning!"
With a final thrust, Aaron buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsating as he emptied his balls deep inside her once again. "세상에!!!" Eunha screamed in korean, her body twitching as her own climax crashed over her. Stars indeed exploded behind her closed lids as she came undone on Aaron's cock.
They stood in silence under a spray of warm water from the showerhead. Eunha lifted her head to face him. "One more, please? I want to remember this night forever."
.
Aaron spank her ass, it sent a jolt of pleasure through Eunha. Her ass cheeks stinging deliciously. She giggled, pressing her naked body against his.
"Alright, birthday girl. One more round, and then we sleep."
He carried her out of the shower, water dripping to the floor. He laid her down on the bed. Crawling over her, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss, his cock already starting to harden again.
Suddenly, Eunha straddled Aaron's hips, her dripping pussy hovering above his thick cock. She ground herself against him, coating his cock in her arousal as she positioned herself for a ride.
"I want to feel you inside me again." she breathed, her hands bracing on Aaron's chest. "I've always imagined this whenever I watch porn."
With a slow, deliberate motion, Eunha sank down onto Aaron's cock, her velvety walls engulfing him inch by inch. She paused, savoring the feeling of being filled, before beginning to rise and fall in a sensual rhythm.
"Oh, yes…" she moaned, her hips rolling as she took him deeper with each pass. "So deep… So fucking good. I'm going to be addicted on your... cock."
Aaron's hands behind his head as he watched a korean girl riding his cock like she owns it.
Aaron's eyes roved over Eunha's breathtaking body. The sight of her pink hair splayed across her shoulders, her porcelain skin flushed with sweat.
His gaze fixated on her breasts, bouncing freely with each downward plunge. The way her pert nipples strained towards him, begging for attention, nearly drove him mad.
Most mesmerizing of all was the tight, velvet grip of her pussy as it swallowed his cock whole, milking him with every rise and fall. Aaron couldn't stop appreciating Eunha.
"Eunha… Fuck, you look incredible. Fucking Incredible."
"I... ahh~~ I'm gonna... fuck! I'm gonna-"
Didn't take long until both of their orgasms are reached. Eunha, completely drained and exhausted. She collapsed onto Aaron's chest, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
"Eunha.." Aaron murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head. "You exceeded all my expectations, Birthday girl."
Eunha let out a contented sigh, nuzzling into Aaron's embrace. "Thank you... This is the best birthday ever."
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Hours after the most unforgettable night of her life, Eunha woke up alone in the luxurious hotel suite, her body aching in the most pleasurable ways imaginable. Groggily, she sat up.
As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, a piece of paper and a calling card caught her eye, lying on the bedside table. Curious, Eunha picked it up, her heart skipping a beat as she read the simple message scrawled on it:
'If you need me, call this number and set a date. See you soon, birthday girl.'
A chill ran down her spine as the realization hit her. Aaron is an escort. A sex worker and this is SinB and Umji's gift for her. A night with a handsome black man plus a great cock that ruined and filled her.
Your eyes opened to the soft, unfamiliar grey of a room that wasn’t yours. The air held a crisp, clean scent, a mix of linen and something faintly floral—her shampoo, maybe. Awareness came in layers. First, the weight of a down comforter. Then, the warmth. A profound, solid warmth pressed along your side, a line of heat from your shoulder to your hip. And finally, the sound. A soft, rhythmic sigh against your chest.
You tilted your head, a movement that sent a faint ache through your neck—the kind that spoke of a deep, unplanned sleep. Your vision adjusted, and the world crystallized into a single, impossible detail.
Sohyun’s face was nestled against you. Her cheek rested on the bare skin of your sternum, her features smoothed by sleep into an expression of profound peace. Her black hair, as sleek and dark as spilled ink, fanned across your chest and the white sheets, catching the weak morning light filtering through the blinds. Each exhalation from her parted lips was a warm, steady ghost against your skin, a tiny anchor in the quiet room. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of her ribs against your own.
Your heart, which had been beating a slow, sleepy rhythm, suddenly decided it was late for a marathon. Thump-thump-thump-thump. It felt like a trapped bird trying to escape the cage of your ribs, a frantic drumbeat you were certain would vibrate through your bones and wake her.
You’d been in love with her since high school. It wasn’t a gentle crush; it was a foundational fact of your existence, as constant and inexplicable as gravity. Sohyun, the senior with the sharp mind and the sharper smile, who moved through the halls with a quiet, magnetic confidence that made everyone—boys and girls alike—turn their heads. She wasn’t just beautiful; she had that handsome girl charisma, a compelling blend of elegant grace and a subtle, understated strength that lived in the set of her shoulders and the directness of her gaze. It had lasted through graduation, through her moving to university, through you following a year later, a planet forever caught in a distant, hopeless orbit around a brilliant, unattainable sun.
And now she was here. In your bed. On you.
How? The question screamed in your head, but the memory of last night was a murky pool of laughter, loud music, and the hazy glow of too many cheap beers at a campus-wide party. You’d seen her there, of course. You always saw her. She’d been holding court with a circle of friends, her laugh cutting through the din like clear silver. You’d mumbled a hello, she’d given you that brief, dazzling smile that never quite reached her assessing eyes, and then… blank. A void until this moment of waking terror and elation.
A more pressing need asserted itself. Your bladder was full. The urge to move, to extricate yourself from this heavenly trap, became physical. You tried to shift, to slide out from under her with glacial slowness. You tensed your abdominal muscles, began the delicate process of lifting your torso…
Her body tightened against yours. It was a subtle coiling, like a cat sensing a disturbance in its nap. The arm she had draped across your stomach flexed, her fingers splaying against your side. A low, rough sound vibrated from her throat into your chest, a sleep-graveled rumble that was nothing like her usual clear, melodic voice.
“Where are you going.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, thick with sleep and a possessiveness that stole the air from your lungs. Her eyes were still closed, long lashes fanning against her cheekbones.
You froze, half-raised, suspended in an awkward crunch. “I… bathroom,” you managed, your own voice a dry croak.
One eye cracked open. Just one. A sliver of dark, intelligent brown peered up at you, clouded with sleep but already far too perceptive. “Mm.” The sound was an acknowledgment, not a permission. She didn’t move her arm. “You’ll come back.”
Another statement. Your brain short-circuited. You’ll come back. Was it a command? A sleepy assumption? A hope? You couldn’t parse it. All you could do was nod, a stiff, jerky motion.
That seemed to satisfy her. The eye closed, and her body relaxed back into its warm, heavy weight against you, though her arm remained firmly in place. “Don’t be long. It’s cold.”
You were burning up. Slowly, with the care of a bomb disposal expert, you slid out from under her arm. The loss of her warmth was instant and shocking, a cold draft rushing in to fill the space where she had been. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet hitting a cool wooden floor. You were in your boxers and nothing else. You glanced back.
Sohyun had curled into the space you vacated, pulling the comforter up to her chin. Her hair spilled over the pillow like a shadow. In the dim light, she looked younger, softer than the untouchable senior you idolized. Real.
The bathroom was small, clinical. You splashed cold water on your face, staring at your wide-eyed reflection. Get a grip. You took care of business, the mundane act somehow grounding. The questions returned, louder now. How did she get here? Did you talk? Did you say something stupid? Did you… try anything? A cold dread seeped in. What if you’d made a fool of yourself and she was just too polite to leave?
You washed your hands, taking your time, trying to piece together fragments. A memory surfaced: stumbling out of the party into the cool night air, your head spinning. A voice beside you. Her voice. “You look like you’re about to face-plant into the quad. Come on, I’m this way.” An arm slipping under yours, surprisingly strong, holding you up. The smell of her perfume—jasmine and clean skin—cutting through the beer fumes. Mumbled apologies from you, a dismissive chuckle from her. A key in a door… not your dorm door. Hers?
You leaned against the sink. You’d been in her apartment. She’d brought you home. Because you were a drunken mess. The elation curdled into a sharp humiliation. Of course. Sohyun, ever responsible, ever the caretaker, had seen a pathetic underclassman about to pass out and taken pity on him. The fact that she’d let you sleep in her bed was just… practicality. Probably only had one bed. Nothing more.
The narrative settled, cold and heavy. It made sense. It was the only thing that made sense.
You walked back into the bedroom, your steps quieter now, deflated. The grey light had brightened to a pale gold. She was awake. Propped on one elbow, the comforter pooled around her waist, she was watching you. She wore a simple black tank top, the straps thin against the smooth slopes of her shoulders. Her hair was tousled, a beautiful mess. Her gaze was clear, alert, and utterly unreadable.
“You snore,” she said, her voice back to its normal timbre, but with a morning huskiness that wrapped around the words.
“I… I’m sorry.” You stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, feeling exposed in your boxers.
“Don’t be. It was consistent. Like a distant engine.” A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. “Predictable.”
You didn’t know what to do with that. “Sohyun, about last night… thank you. And I’m so sorry. I must have been—”
“A disaster?” she finished for you, the smile growing a fraction. “You were. A charming disaster, but a disaster nonetheless. You tried to explain the philosophical implications of the university’s grading system to a potted plant outside the Student Union.”
You winced, heat flooding your face. “Oh, god.”
“It’s fine.” She sat up fully, stretching her arms over her head. The movement pulled the fabric of her tank top taut, outlining the lean muscles of her arms, the subtle curve of her breasts. You forced your eyes to the window. “You were harmless. And you looked so lost. I couldn’t just leave you to wander into a fountain.”
“You brought me here,” you stated, needing to hear it.
“My couch is a torture device disguised as furniture. It would have been inhumane.” She swung her legs out of bed. She was wearing matching black sleep shorts that ended mid-thigh. Her legs were long, lean, defined. She stood up, and you were struck again by her presence—she was almost your height, and she carried herself with a quiet ownership of any space she occupied. She padded past you, her shoulder lightly brushing your arm. A spark, a static shock of contact. “Coffee?”
“Uh, sure. Yes. Please.”
You followed her into the small, tidy kitchenette. She moved with an efficient, unhurried grace, filling a kettle, scooping grounds into a French press. The silence was dense, filled with the sounds of her movements and your own thrumming nervousness.
“You don’t remember much, do you?” she asked, not turning around.
“Not after… after the plant, no.”
She chuckled, a soft, warm sound. “You talked a lot. Before you passed out.”
A new kind of dread, colder and deeper, took root. “About what?”
The kettle began to whistle. She poured the water over the grounds, a rich, earthy scent blooming in the air. “Oh, this and that. Your classes. Your terrible roommate. Your dog back home.” She paused, setting the kettle down. She still hadn’t turned to face you. “How you ended up at this university.”
Your mouth went dry. You knew where this was going. You’d told that story once, drunk on cheap wine at a freshman mixer, to a friend who’d later teased you mercilessly. I followed a girl here. Pathetic, right?
“And why was that?” she asked, her voice deliberately light, conversational. She finally turned, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed. Her eyes were on you, steady and waiting.
You could lie. You could make up something about the academic program, the campus. But under that gaze, the truth felt like the only thing that had any weight. You looked down at your bare feet on her kitchen tile. “You know why.”
The silence stretched. The coffee steeped.
“I think I do,” she said, her voice dropping, losing its casual edge. “But I’ve been known to be wrong. Humor me.”
You dragged your eyes up to meet hers. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff. “I saw you, at a high school debate tournament. You were arguing for reducing the voting age. You were… electric. You dismantled the other team with logic, but you never raised your voice. You just knew things. And afterwards, you were standing by the trophy case, and some guy from the other school came up to you, all cocky, trying to flirt. And you just looked at him, gave him this tiny, pitying smile, and said, ‘Your premise was flawed from the start. I suggest you review your foundational material.’” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I applied here a week later. I didn’t even look at the brochure.”
Sohyun didn’t move. Her expression was inscrutable. “That was three years ago.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been here two years.”
“Yeah.”
“And in all that time, you’ve said maybe fifty words to me. Total.”
Your face was on fire. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I upended my life because you were smart and beautiful and I’m kind of obsessed’?”
A flicker of something crossed her face—surprise, maybe, or amusement. “It’s a starting point.”
She pushed off the counter and pressed down the plunger on the French press. The thunk was final in the quiet room. She poured two mugs, black, and handed one to you. Your fingers brushed. This time, the contact was deliberate, prolonged. Her skin was warm from the mug.
“You should say it now,” she said, holding her own mug close to her face, the steam curling around her features.
“What?”
“The thing you were supposed to say.” She took a sip, watching you over the rim. “Consider this a… belated opportunity. A morning-after debrief, if you will.”
This was a test. A game. One you were woefully unprepared for. You took a gulp of the scalding coffee, needing the pain to focus. “I upended my life because you were the most compelling person I’d ever seen. Because you have a mind that’s terrifying and a smile that’s… worse. Because for three years, you’ve been the standard I measure everything against, and it’s incredibly annoying.” The words were tumbling out now, raw and unpolished. “And waking up with you on me was the best and most confusing moment of my entire life, and I have no idea what it means, and I’m half-convinced I’m still drunk and hallucinating.”
She was silent for a long moment. Then she set her mug down on the counter with a soft click. She took two steps towards you, closing the distance in the small kitchen. You could smell the coffee on her breath, see the tiny flecks of amber in her brown eyes. Her presence was overwhelming.
“It means,” she said, her voice a low, intimate murmur, “that you talk too much when you’re drunk, but you’re surprisingly honest. It means I’ve known you were following me around like a lost puppy since freshman orientation. It means I brought you here last night because I was tired of watching you watch me from across rooms.” She reached out, not touching you, but her hand hovered near your arm. “And it means this morning, I didn’t want you to get out of my bed.”
The world tilted. The careful, humiliating narrative you’d constructed in the bathroom shattered. “You… knew?”
“Of course I knew.” A genuine smile, one that reached her eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. It was devastating. “You’re not subtle. You have this… look. Like you’re trying to solve a very complicated, very beautiful equation.”
“And that’s not… creepy?”
“It was, at first. Then it became… familiar. Then it became something I looked for.” She finally let her fingertips make contact, tracing a line from your wrist to your elbow. The touch was feather-light, exploratory. Your skin prickled in its wake. “You’re different when you think no one’s looking. Less nervous. More… intense.”
“Sohyun, I…” You had no words left. The equation was solved, and the answer was standing right in front of you, touching your arm.
“Shh.” Her finger came up, pressing gently against your lips. The shock of it was electric. “You’ve said your piece. Now it’s my turn.” She leaned in closer. Her breath fanned your cheek. “I don’t do this. I don’t bring drunk boys home. I don’t let them sleep in my bed. I don’t make them coffee in the morning. And I certainly don’t tell them they’ve been a persistent, intriguing fixture in my peripheral vision for two years.” Her lips were so close you could almost feel their shape. “But I find I want to see what happens when you’re not just watching from a distance. I want to see if that intensity I’ve glimpsed is really there.”
She pulled back, just an inch, her dark eyes searching yours. The tension in the air was a living thing, thick and sweet as honey. It wasn’t sexual, not yet—it was something more profound, a terrifying, exhilarating negotiation of power and vulnerability. She was offering you a glimpse behind the curtain, but she was still firmly holding the rope.
“What do you want to happen?” you breathed, the question barely audible.
Her thumb brushed your lower lip, a slow, considering stroke. “I want you to finish your coffee. I want you to stop looking at me like I’m about to disappear. And I want you to decide if you’re brave enough to stop being the boy in the shadows and try being the one standing next to me.” She dropped her hand, the loss of contact a physical ache. “The coffee’s getting cold.”
She turned and walked back towards the bedroom, leaving you standing in the kitchen, your heart hammering against your ribs, her scent in the air, and the ghost of her touch burning on your skin.
The silence after her words wasn’t empty. It was full of the low hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of traffic from the street below, and the deafening roar of your own pulse in your ears. Brave enough. The phrase echoed, a challenge and an invitation tangled together. You stared at the dark liquid in your mug, seeing not coffee but the reflection of the shaky, impossible future she’d just sketched in the air between you.
You took a gulp. It was lukewarm, bitter. You drank it anyway, needing the ritual, the anchor of a simple action. When you lowered the mug, your hand was steadier than you felt.
She was in the bedroom. You could hear the soft shuffle of fabric, a drawer opening and closing. Normal morning sounds in an utterly abnormal situation. You placed your empty mug in the sink, the ceramic click too loud in the quiet apartment. You walked to the bedroom doorway and leaned against the frame.
Sohyun was standing by her dresser, her back to you. She had changed out of the sleep shorts and tank top. Now she wore a pair of simple, faded black jeans and was pulling a soft-looking grey sweater over her head. The fabric caught on her shoulders for a second before she tugged it down, the movement stretching the material across her back. She smoothed her hair with one hand, the black strands slipping through her fingers like dark water.
“Decided?” she asked, without turning around. Her voice was casual, but there was an edge underneath it, a thread of anticipation.
“I’m here,” you said. It was all you could manage.
She turned then. The sweater hung off one shoulder, revealing the strap of a black bra beneath. She looked you up and down, a slow, assessing sweep that made you hyper-aware of your state of undress—just your boxers in her morning-lit bedroom. “You are,” she agreed. A small, private smile played on her lips. “But are you present? Or are you still that boy watching from the doorway of the lecture hall?”
You pushed off the doorframe, taking a step into the room. The wooden floor was cool under your feet. “I don’t know how to be anything else with you.”
“Then learn.” She took a step toward you, closing the distance. She stopped just out of arm’s reach. “The first lesson is honesty. Raw, inconvenient honesty. You just gave me some in the kitchen. Don’t stop now.” She tilted her head. “What do you want right now, this second?”
The question was a trap and a gift. You could give the safe answer, the polite one. Or you could leap. Your mouth was dry. “I want to touch you.”
Her eyes darkened, the brown deepening to something closer to black. “Where?”
Your breath faltered. This was it. The point of no return. “Your hair. Your face. Your…” You gestured weakly toward her, your hand fluttering in the space between you. “Your waist.”
“Specific,” she murmured, and it sounded like praise. “Good. And what do you think I want?”
“I have no idea,” you admitted, the honesty wrenched out of you. “You’re… you’re Sohyun. You’re in control. You’re always ten steps ahead.”
“Am I?” She took the final step, erasing the gap. Now you could feel the warmth radiating from her body, could smell the clean, floral scent of her skin mixed with the faint musk of sleep. “Right now, I’m one step ahead. Maybe half a step. And what I want is very simple.” She reached up and placed her palm flat against your chest, right over your pounding heart. Her hand was warm, her touch firm, grounding. “I want to see if you can keep up.”
Her hand slid up, over your collarbone, to rest at the side of your neck. Her thumb brushed the line of your jaw. It was the lightest of touches, but it sent a current straight down your spine. Your skin tightened, every nerve ending waking up.
“You’ve watched me for years,” she said, her voice dropping to that intimate murmur again. “You’ve imagined this, haven’t you?”
You couldn’t lie. Not under that gaze. “Yes.”
“Tell me one thing you imagined. One specific thing.”
Your mind, usually so quick to supply embarrassing, clumsy fantasies, went blank. Then one surfaced, clear and vivid. “I imagined what it would be like to kiss you after you won a debate. When you were still buzzing with adrenaline. I thought… I thought you’d taste like victory.”
A genuine, surprised laugh escaped her, a short, bright sound. “That’s disgustingly poetic.” Her thumb stroked your jaw again. “And?”
“And I was afraid I’d be too nervous to do it right.”
“And now?” Her eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up. “Are you nervous now?”
“Terrified.”
“Good.” Her other hand came up to mirror the first, so she was cradling your face. Her grip was gentle but undeniable. “Don’t be brave. Just be honest. Follow my lead.”
She leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, to freeze, to be the boy in the shadows. You didn’t. You stood there, your heart trying to batter its way out of your chest, as her face filled your vision. Her eyes stayed open, watching you, until the last possible moment before her lips met yours.
The first touch was a soft, closed-mouth press. A testing. The warmth of her mouth was a shock, softer than you’d ever dreamed. She held there for a long, suspended second, and the world narrowed to that single point of contact—the incredible, impossible reality of Sohyun’s mouth on yours. She pulled back a fraction, her breath mingling with yours. Her eyes searched your face, reading the shock, the awe, the burgeoning hunger there.
Then she kissed you again.
This time, there was purpose. Her lips moved, parting just slightly, applying a subtle, increasing pressure. A silent question. Your body answered before your mind could. Your own lips parted in response, and the kiss deepened. It wasn’t frantic or sloppy; it was deliberate, a slow exploration. The feeling of her lower lip between yours was so intensely focused it blurred everything else. You could feel the smooth texture, the plush give of it.
A low sound hummed in her throat, a vibration you felt through the connection of your mouths. It spurred you on. Your hands, which had been hanging uselessly at your sides, came up. Tentatively, you placed them on her waist, over the soft wool of her sweater. The reality of her shape under your palms—the slight inward curve, the firmness of her hip bones—was almost too much.
She responded by sliding her hands from your face into your hair, her fingers tangling in the strands. The slight tug sent a jolt of pure heat directly to your core. Her tongue touched your lower lip, a hot, wet swipe that made your knees feel loose.
You opened for her, and she took the invitation.
The kiss transformed. It became deeper, wetter, a slow tangle of heat and sensation. The taste of her was clean, like mint toothpaste and black coffee, and underneath it, something uniquely her—a faint, elusive sweetness. Your head spun. This was nothing like the clumsy, rushed kisses you’d experienced before. This was a conversation, a negotiation of pressure and rhythm. She would advance, her tongue sliding against yours, and then retreat, sucking gently on your lip, letting you chase her. Then she’d let you lead for a moment, meeting your slower explorations with a hum of approval.
One of her hands drifted down from your hair, over your shoulder, down your arm, then back up under the sleeve of your—well, you weren’t wearing a sleeve. Her fingertips traced the muscles of your bicep, your tricep, mapping you with a curious, possessive touch. It was your turn to make a sound, a ragged exhale that was almost a moan against her mouth.
She broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to speak. Her lips were flushed, glistening. “You’re learning fast,” she breathed, her own breathing slightly uneven.
“Good teacher,” you managed, your voice rough.
She smiled, a real, unguarded smile that made your chest ache. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Her eyes dropped to your chest, then lower. The evidence of your arousal was tenting the front of your boxers, obvious and undeniable. She didn’t comment on it, but her smile turned knowing, satisfied. “Now. You said you wanted to touch my hair.”
You nodded, wordless.
“So touch it.”
You brought a hand up, your fingers trembling slightly. You slid them into the hair at her temple, pushing it back. It was every bit as silky as it looked, cool and heavy as it slipped through your fingers. You cupped the back of her head, your palm against the elegant line of her skull. The intimacy of the hold, of having this powerful, controlled person yielding to your touch, was dizzying.
“Good,” she whispered. “Your turn. Ask for what you want.”
“Kiss me again,” you said, the words raw.
“Since you asked so nicely.”
This kiss was fiercer, hungrier. The careful control began to fray at the edges. Her hands slid down your back, pulling your body flush against hers. You could feel the soft press of her breasts against your chest, the hard buckle of her jeans against your stomach. The friction was maddening. You groaned into her mouth, your hips giving an involuntary jerk forward.
She broke away with a sharp intake of breath, her eyes blazing. “Bed,” she commanded, her voice husky.
She took your hand and led you the two steps to the side of her bed. She turned to face you, her gaze holding yours. “Last chance to be the boy in the shadows,” she said, but her tone held no doubt. She was stating a fact, not offering an out.
“I’m right here,” you repeated, and it felt like a vow.
Her fingers went to the hem of her grey sweater. She gathered the fabric in both hands and, in one smooth, unhurried motion, pulled it up over her head and tossed it aside. It landed on the floor with a soft whump.
She stood before you in just her jeans and the black bra. Her skin was a smooth, even canvas of light olive tone, flawless in the morning light. Her shoulders were elegantly defined, her collarbones sharp and beautiful. The bra was simple, lace-trimmed, and it held the gentle swell of her breasts, the curve of them making your mouth go dry.
“Your eyes,” she said softly, watching you look at her. “They’re so… hungry. I’ve seen that look from across rooms. Feeling it this close is different.” She reached behind her back, and with a deft twist, the clasp of her bra came undone. She let the straps slide down her arms, and then she dropped it, letting it join the sweater on the floor.
Your breath stopped.
Her breasts were perfect. Not large, but beautifully shaped, high and firm with dusky pink nipples that were already drawn into tight peaks from the cool air or the tension—maybe both. You stared, the image searing itself into your mind. The gentle slope, the subtle shadow underneath, the way they rose and fell with her quickened breathing.
“You can touch,” she said, her voice a low thrum. “You wanted my waist. That’s a start.”
Your hands found her waist again, now on bare skin. The warmth of her was a shock. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, like heated satin. Your thumbs stroked the delicate ridges of her ribs, feeling her muscles tense under your touch. You leaned in, drawn irresistibly, and pressed your lips to the hollow of her throat. Her pulse hammered against your mouth, a frantic, living rhythm.
She let out a shaky sigh, her head tilting back to give you better access. You kissed your way along her collarbone, nuzzling the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. The scent of her skin was intoxicating up close—warm, clean, deeply feminine.
“Higher,” she instructed, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders.
You obeyed, trailing kisses up the column of her throat to her jaw. When you reached her mouth again, the kiss was explosive, all the built-up tension igniting. Her tongue plunged into your mouth, demanding, and you met her with equal fervor. Your hands slid from her waist around to the small of her back, pressing her even tighter against you. The feeling of her bare skin under your palms, the heat of her stomach against yours, was overwhelming.
One of her hands slipped between your bodies, her fingers tracing the hard line of your erection through the thin cotton of your boxers. You gasped, bucking into her touch.
“So eager,” she murmured against your lips, a note of triumph in her voice. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your boxers. “These are in the way.”
She pushed them down, and you helped, kicking them off your ankles. You stood naked before her, completely exposed, more vulnerable than you’d ever been. Her eyes raked over you, taking in every detail—the heave of your chest, the tense muscles of your stomach, the hard, flushed length of your cock standing starkly against your body. Her gaze lingered there, not with shyness, but with a frank, appraising curiosity that made your skin feel too tight.
“Look at you,” she said, almost to herself. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around you, not stroking, just holding, measuring the weight and heat of you in her hand. The contact was electric, a bolt of pure sensation that made your legs tremble. “All this time, all that intensity… it’s all right here.”
She gave one slow, firm stroke from root to tip, her thumb swirling over the slick head. You cried out, a broken, helpless sound, and your hands gripped her back desperately.
“Sohyun…”
“I know,” she soothed, but she didn’t stop. She established a slow, relentless rhythm, her hand gliding smoothly over your sensitive flesh. Her other hand came up to cup your face, forcing you to look at her. “Look at me. Don’t close your eyes. I want to see it. I want to see what I do to you.”
It was agony and ecstasy. The pleasure built in sharp, coiling waves, but her gaze held you captive, making the experience unbearably intimate. You were laid bare in every possible way. You could see the concentration in her face, the slight parting of her lips, the dark flush on her own cheeks. She was studying you, learning you, claiming you.
“I’m not… I can’t last…” you gritted out, your hips pistoning involuntarily into her fist.
“Not yet,” she commanded, and her hand stilled, squeezing lightly at the base of you. The edge receded, leaving you shuddering. “My turn.”
She released you and, with a push against your shoulders, guided you to sit on the edge of the bed. You landed with a soft jolt, looking up at her. She stood between your legs, looking down at you with that devastating, knowing smile. Her hands went to the button of her jeans.
She popped it open, then slowly drew down the zipper. The sound was loud in the quiet room. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband, and with a roll of her hips, she pushed the jeans down her legs. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside.
Now she wore only a pair of black lace panties, a tiny, delicate triangle that did little to hide the shape of her. Your eyes were glued to the thatch of dark hair visible through the fine lace, the generous curve of her hips, the long, powerful lines of her thighs.
“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, the words torn from you.
“I know,” she said again, but this time it wasn’t arrogance. It was a simple acceptance of a fact, and it was somehow more powerful. She placed her hands on your shoulders. “Lie back.”
You scooted back on the bed until your head hit the pillows. She climbed onto the mattress, kneeling over you, one knee on either side of your hips. She didn’t lower herself onto you. She just stayed there, poised above you, letting you look your fill. The morning light painted her in shades of gold and shadow, highlighting the dip of her waist, the smooth plane of her stomach, the proud lift of her breasts.
“You have no idea,” she said, her voice low and thick, “how long I’ve wanted to see that look on your face. Not admiration from afar. This. Want. Need. Ache.” She leaned down, bracing her hands on the pillow on either side of your head. Her hair fell around your face like a curtain, enclosing you in a world that was only her scent, her heat, her eyes. “Tell me what you ache for.”
Your hands came up to rest on her hips, your thumbs stroking the sharp crest of her pelvic bones through the lace. “You. All of you. I want to taste you. I want to feel you around me. I want to fuck you until neither of us remembers any other way to be.”
The crude, desperate words hung in the air. Her eyes flared, and for a second, the absolute control she wielded slipped, revealing a naked, answering hunger that took your breath away.
“Yes,” she breathed, the word a promise and a concession. “But not yet.” She lowered herself slowly, until her chest brushed against yours, the hard peaks of her nipples grazing your skin. The warmth of her body covered you, a delicious, suffocating weight. She nuzzled your ear, her lips finding the sensitive shell. “First, I want to feel your mouth on me. Everywhere. I want you to learn the taste of my skin, the sound I make when you find the right spot.” She nipped your earlobe, a sharp, sweet pain. “Can you do that for me?”
“Anything,” you vowed, your voice cracking.
“Good boy.”
She shifted, rolling off to lie beside you on the bed. She propped herself up on one elbow, facing you. With her free hand, she took your hand and guided it to the waistband of her panties. “Take these off me.”
Your fingers fumbled with the delicate fabric, but you managed to hook them into the lace and draw them down her legs. She lifted her hips to help you, and then she was finally, completely naked beside you.
You had seen her, but now you saw her. The elegant delta of dark, neatly trimmed hair. The full, plump outer lips, already glistening with a clear, pearly slickness. The puffy, darker pink inner lips, slightly parted and swollen with arousal. The scent of her, musky and sweet and utterly primal, washed over you. It was the most erotic thing you had ever witnessed.
“You’re staring again,” she said, but her voice was soft, vulnerable in a way you’d never heard.
“You’re perfect.”
“Touch me.”
You reached out, your hand trembling. You let the back of your fingers trail lightly through the dark curls, then down over the smooth, hot skin of her mound. You cupped her, feeling the incredible heat and softness there. A soft, choked gasp escaped her lips. Emboldened, you let your fingertips drift lower, tracing the slick, swollen folds. They were drenched, your fingers coming away glistening.
“Sohyun…” you breathed, awestruck by the evidence of her desire.
“I know,” she whispered for the third time, and this time it was a confession. “It’s been a long time coming.”
You leaned in, drawn by her scent, by the visual feast of her. You kissed the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. The skin was incredibly soft. You placed another kiss higher up, then another, working your way inward in a slow, torturous pilgrimage. Her breath hitched, and her hand came down to tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding on.
When your mouth was finally level with her core, you paused, breathing her in. You looked up the length of her body. She was watching you, her eyes dark pools of want, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
You lowered your head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her very center.
The taste was complex, salty and sweet and uniquely her. The sound she made was a sharp, surprised cry that melted into a long, trembling sigh. Her hips jerked off the bed, pushing herself more firmly against your mouth.
“Again,” she demanded, her voice shaking.
You obeyed, licking a slow, broad stripe from her opening all the way up to the swollen bud of her clit. Her entire body shuddered. You did it again, finding a rhythm, exploring her with your tongue. You lapped at her entrance, drinking in her taste, then focused on the tight, hard little nub above. You circled it, flicked it, sucked it gently into your mouth.
Her moans became a continuous, ragged melody. Her hold on your hair tightened, her thighs tensing around your head. “Right there… oh, fuck, yes, right there…” she chanted, her composure splintering.
You were lost in her, in the feel of her soft flesh yielding under your tongue, in the salty-sweet flood of her arousal, in the desperate, beautiful sounds she was making. You slid one hand under her thigh, hooking it over your shoulder to open her wider to you. You pushed your tongue deeper, exploring the hot, slick channel of her.
She was thrashing now, her back arching off the bed. “I’m close… don’t stop, please, please don’t stop…”
You doubled your efforts, focusing all your attention on her clit, sucking and licking with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed. Her breathing became frantic, a series of sharp gasps. Her whole body went rigid, a bowstring pulled taut. A broken, sobbing cry tore from her throat, and her hips ground against your face as her climax ripped through her. The taste of her intensified, flooding your mouth as her inner muscles fluttered wildly against your tongue.
You held her through it, gentling your motions until the last tremor subsided. She went boneless against the mattress, her hand falling from your hair to splay across her stomach, which rose and fell rapidly. You lifted your head, your lips and chin wet with her. You kissed your way back up her body, over her trembling stomach, between her breasts, to her mouth.
She kissed you back hungrily, tasting herself on your lips. The kiss was deep, messy, and utterly raw.
When you finally broke apart, she was panting, her eyes glassy with spent pleasure. She looked utterly wrecked and more beautiful than ever.
“See?” she rasped, a trace of her old smile returning. “You’re a quick Learner”
She watched you taste her, her breath still coming in ragged gusts against your lips. Her eyes, half-lidded and heavy, held a dazed, triumphant satisfaction. You were both kneeling on the bed now, facing each other, the air thick with the scent of her release and your shared heat.
“A quick Learner,” she repeated, her voice a husky whisper. She reached out and traced your lips with her thumb, wiping away the wetness that belonged to her. “You taste like me.”
You nodded, your own breathing unsteady. The raw, primal flavor of her was still on your tongue, a testament to what had just happened. You’d made her come. With your mouth. The thought sent a fresh surge of possession through you, mixed with awe.
Her hand moved from your lips down your chest, her fingers skimming over your skin. She followed the trail of her touch with her eyes, a slow, deliberate inventory. “You’re still so hard,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to your cock, which stood rigid and flushed against your stomach. “All that attention on me, and you’re still aching.”
You swallowed. “I’m aching for you.”
“I know.” Her hand finally reached you, her fingers circling the base, not moving, just holding. The simple contact was an electric brand. “You asked for it. To feel me around you. To fuck me until we forget.” She leaned forward, her mouth close to yours again. “Is that still what you want?”
“Yes,” you breathed, the word a plea.
“Then give me your hands.”
You held them out, palms up. She took them and placed them on her hips, your fingers splayed over the smooth, warm skin. Her flesh was soft yet firm underneath, the muscle of her moving as she shifted her weight. “Hold me here. Guide me when I ask. But otherwise… let me lead.”
You nodded, your grip tightening instinctively.
She smiled, that knowing, dangerous curve of her lips. Then she moved. With a fluid grace, she swung one leg over yours, turning so she was straddling your lap. You were seated on the bed, and she was perched above you, knees bent, her body a poised, powerful silhouette against the morning-lit window.
The feeling of her thighs against yours, the heat of her core hovering just above your erection, was agonizingly close. You could feel the warmth radiating from her, the damp evidence of her pleasure brushing against your stomach.
She placed her hands on your shoulders, her fingers digging in slightly. “Look at me,” she commanded, her voice dropping into a lower register, a tone that was pure authority. “Don’t close your eyes. Don’t look away. I want to see every second of this in your face.”
You looked up at her. Her hair was tousled, framing her face in wild, dark strands. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from kissing. Her eyes were black pools of intent, focused entirely on you. She was in complete control, and the sight of it, the submission it demanded from you, sent a thrill of pure adrenaline through your veins.
Slowly, with deliberate, unhurried motion, she lowered herself.
The first contact was a brush, a teasing graze of her slick folds against the head of your cock. A shudder ripped through you, a convulsive jerk of your entire body. She smiled at your reaction, a predatory gleam in her eyes.
“Feel that?” she whispered. “That’s me. That’s how ready I am for you.”
She lifted herself slightly, then lowered again, this time letting her weight settle so that the swollen, plump lips of her vulva parted around your tip. The sensation was indescribable—hot, silken pressure, a velvet embrace that promised so much more. The clear, sticky slickness coating you was a tangible proof of her desire.
“Oh, god,” you moaned, your head falling back for a second before you forced it up again, obeying her command to watch.
“No,” she said, her voice firm. “Not god. Me.” She pressed down a fraction more, and the head of your cock began to sink into her. The entrance was incredibly tight, a ring of gripping, living flesh that resisted then yielded, stretching to accommodate you. The feeling of being enveloped, of that first inch of penetration, was a white-hot spike of pleasure so intense it blurred your vision.
She paused, holding you there, just that first, shallow intrusion. Her inner muscles fluttered around you, a series of tiny, involuntary contractions that made you gasp.
“You feel so big,” she breathed, her own composure fraying at the edges. A fine tremor ran through her thighs where they pressed against yours. “So fucking deep already.”
She began to move. Not a thrust, but a slow, circular roll of her hips. She ground herself against you, the motion making your cock slide fractionally deeper, then back, then deeper again. It was a torturous, exquisite tease. The swollen, puffy flesh of her inner lips rubbed against your shaft, the friction sending sparks up your spine. Her clit, that hard, sensitive nub, brushed against your stomach with each rotation.
Your hands on her hips trembled, wanting to pull her down, to bury yourself fully in that incredible heat. But you held back. You let her lead.
Her rhythm changed. The circles became a deliberate, downward pressure. She leaned forward, putting more weight on your shoulders, and sank onto you.
It was a slow, inexorable invasion. You felt every millimeter of your progress into her body. The tight channel hugged you, a hot, slick sleeve that stretched and molded itself to your shape. The sensation of fullness, of being so completely claimed, was overwhelming. You watched, mesmerized, as your cock disappeared into her, swallowed by her beautiful, glistening sex.
She took you all, until your entire length was buried inside her, until your hips met hers, until you were seated as deeply as possible. She let out a long, shuddering sigh as she settled onto you, her body accepting you fully. Her head dropped forward for a moment, her forehead resting against yours. Her breathing was hot and ragged in your ear.
“Fuck,” she whispered, the word a raw, surprised exhalation. “You’re all the way in. I can feel you… everywhere.”
She stayed like that, motionless, letting you both adjust to the feeling. The intimacy of it was profound. You were joined, locked together, her weight a delicious pressure on your lap. Her inner walls pulsed around you, a series of soft, rhythmic squeezes that felt like her body was milking you, pulling you deeper into her.
Then she lifted her head. Her eyes found yours again, and they were blazing with a fierce, uncontained fire. “Now,” she said, her voice guttural. “Now you fuck me.”
She rose up, pulling herself almost completely off you, leaving just the tip inside. The sensation of withdrawal was a sharp, aching loss. Then she slammed back down.
It wasn’t gentle. It was a hard, driving impact that forced you deeper than before, a collision of bodies that shook the bedframe. A sharp, punched-out cry escaped her lips. You groaned, the sound torn from somewhere deep in your chest. The feeling of her plunging onto you, of her tight, wet heat enveloping you with such force, was beyond anything you’d imagined.
She did it again. Up, then down, a hard, piston-like rhythm that was pure, unadulterated need. Her hips moved with a wild, untamed abandon, each descent a calculated, powerful drive. Her thighs flexed, the muscles working as she lifted and dropped herself onto you. The sound of skin meeting skin, of her soft flesh absorbing the impact of your body, filled the room—a wet, rhythmic slap that was the soundtrack to your ruin.
You tried to hold her, to guide her as she’d asked, but your hands were mostly anchors, gripping her hips as she used you. You were a tool for her pleasure, a fixed point for her to ride. And you loved it. The surrender was intoxicating.
Her face was a study in focused ecstasy. Her lips were parted, her teeth occasionally clenched as a particularly deep stroke hit a new depth. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, but they were unfocused now, glazed with the intensity of sensation. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, on her chest. A strand of hair stuck to her damp cheek.
“Harder,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Don’t just take it… fuck me back. Meet me.”
You obeyed. As she rose, you thrust upwards, driving into her from below. The coordination was clumsy at first, then it synced. Your upward drive met her downward plunge, creating a devastating, double-impact that made her cry out, a sharp, high sound.
The pace became frantic, a savage dance. She rode you with a frenetic energy, her hips rolling, grinding, pumping. She would occasionally change the angle, leaning back to take you deeper, or leaning forward to rub her clit against you with each stroke. Every variation brought a new wave of sensation.
You could feel everything. The textured, ridged walls of her vagina gripping and releasing you. The swollen, tender flesh of her entrance stretching around your thickness each time she took you. The hot flood of her juices, making every movement slick and effortless. The hard nub of her clit bumping against your pelvic bone, sending shocks through her entire body.
“Yes… right there… fuck, yes!” she shouted, her composure shattered. Her words were a ragged, desperate stream. “You’re so deep… you’re hitting… you’re hitting something… oh!”
Her inner muscles clenched around you, a sudden, vice-like grip that stole your breath. You saw her eyes widen, her mouth open in a silent scream. She was finding a spot, a place inside her that triggered something profound.
You focused your thrusts, aiming for that depth, using the leverage of your hands on her hips to drive into her at the perfect angle. Each time you found it, her body would convulse, a full-body shudder that made her breasts bounce wildly, the soft flesh jolting with the force of your fucking.
You watched them, mesmerized. The sight of her nipples, dark and hard, bouncing in time with your joined rhythm was obscenely beautiful. Sweat traced the valley between her breasts, glistening in the light.
The room filled with the sounds of your sex: the wet, rhythmic slap of your bodies, the choked, desperate gasps of her breathing, your own ragged groans, the creak of the bed under the assault. The air grew thick and humid, smelling of sex, of sweat, of her.
One of her hands left your shoulder and snaked between her own legs. You watched, spellbound, as her fingers found her clit, rubbing it in frantic circles as you fucked her. The added stimulation made her movements become even more wild, her hips bucking against you in an erratic, desperate rhythm.
“I’m… I’m gonna…” she panted, her words disjointed. “Don’t stop… don’t fucking stop… make me come… make me come on your cock…”
Her demand ignited something primal in you. You surged upwards, fucking her with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. Your thrusts became harder, faster, a relentless pounding that pushed her body up each time she came down. The force made her whole body jolt, her head tossing back, her hair flying.
Her fingers worked furiously at her clit, her other hand gripping your shoulder like a lifeline. Her face was a mask of pure, unthinking pleasure—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a continuous, silent cry.
The tension in her body was palpable, a coiling, tightening spring. Her inner walls began to flutter around you again, but this time it was a rapid, frantic pulsation, a precursor to the storm.
“Now… now!” she screamed, the word tearing from her throat.
Her body locked. Every muscle seized, from her thighs clamping around yours to her back arching into a painful curve. Her hand fell away from her clit, her arm going rigid. A guttural, drawn-out groan erupted from her, a sound of pure, unadulterated release.
And then she came.
You felt it. A series of violent, rhythmic contractions deep inside her, gripping your cock in a tight, milking squeeze that pulled at you from root to tip. Her juices flowed around you, a hot, sudden gush that made the slide even slicker. Her hips ground against you in a final, desperate rotation, her clit rubbing hard against you as the climax peaked.
You watched her face. It was transformed. Ecstasy, pain, surrender—all twisted into a single, breathtaking expression. Her eyes rolled back, her lips trembled. She was utterly gone, lost in the sensation you were giving her.
The contractions continued, waves of them, each one making her jerk and moan. You held her, keeping her seated deeply on you, letting her ride the waves of her orgasm on your cock. The feeling of her climaxing around you, inside you, was the most powerful thing you’d ever experienced. It wasn’t just physical; it was a claim, a possession. You were the instrument of her pleasure, and you were buried in the very center of it.
Slowly, the violent pulses subsided, softening into gentle, aftershock flutters. Her body slumped forward, collapsing against your chest, her weight heavy and boneless. She buried her face in your shoulder, her hot, panting breath scalding your skin. Her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as if you were the only solid thing in a spinning world.
You held her, your own body trembling with the effort of holding back. You were achingly close, the pressure built to a critical peak, but you waited. You let her come down.
After a long minute, she stirred. She lifted her head, her face flushed and damp with sweat and tears. She looked at you, her eyes soft and hazy.
“You didn’t…” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “You held back.”
“You told me to let you lead,” you said, your own voice rough.
A slow, exhausted smile spread across her face. “Good boy.” She shifted, lifting herself off you slightly. The feeling of withdrawal was a sweet, painful emptiness. “But now…” She leaned in, her lips brushing yours. “Now it’s your turn.”
She didn’t move off you completely. Instead, she settled back onto your lap, your cock still buried inside her, but she changed the rhythm. Gone was the wild, frantic pumping. Now, she began a slow, deep grind. She rocked her hips back and forth, a sensual, rolling motion that made your entire length slide within her, a continuous, maddening friction.
She reached up and cupped your face, her thumb stroking your cheek. “Look at me,” she said again, but the command was softer now, an invitation. “Let me see you lose it.”
The slow grind was unbearable. Each movement dragged your sensitive flesh against her swollen, tender walls. The aftershocks of her orgasm still trembled through her, creating tiny, extra pulses of sensation. The heat was incredible, a wet, clinging warmth that seemed to draw you deeper.
You couldn’t hold back. The control you’d clung to shattered.
Your hips began to move, matching her grind with your own thrusts. They were shallow at first, then deeper, driven by a need that was now a roaring fire in your blood. You fucked her upward into her slow, downward rolls, creating a new, synergistic rhythm.
“That’s it,” she coaxed, her voice a husky whisper against your mouth. “Give it to me. Let me feel you… let me feel you come inside me.”
Her words were the final trigger. The dam broke.
A deep, groaning sound started in your chest and erupted from your lips. Your thrusts became frantic, uncontrollable. You were slamming into her now, a hard, fast, pounding rhythm that shook both of you. She held you tight, her arms around your neck, her body accepting every violent drive.
The pleasure coiled, tightened, then exploded.
Your climax wasn’t a slow build; it was a detonation. A white-hot wave surged up your spine and burst through you. You cried out, a raw, broken sound, as your body locked. Your hips drove up into her one final, deep time, burying yourself as far as possible, and then you were coming.
The release was torrential. You felt the surge from deep within your balls, a hot, rushing flood that poured up your shaft and into her. The feeling of ejaculating inside her, of filling her with your climax, was profoundly possessive, profoundly intimate. Each pulse of release was a shuddering, full-body convulsion that made you grunt and gasp.
She moaned, a low, satisfied sound, as she felt it. Her inner muscles tightened around you, squeezing, milking you, drawing out every last drop. “Yes… fuck… I can feel it… so hot…” she whispered, her own body trembling with the sensation.
You held her through it, your arms wrapped around her, your face buried in her hair. The world dissolved into sensation—the hot, wet clasp of her body, the incredible softness of her skin against yours, the pounding of your heart, the slowing pulse of your release.
Finally, the last tremor passed. You went limp, your body spent, your mind blank. You were both panting, sweat-slicked, tangled together on the bed.
Slowly, carefully, she lifted herself off you. Your cock, now slick with both your fluids, slid out of her with a soft, wet sound. The emptiness was acute, a physical loss. You watched, dazed, as a trickle of your release mixed with hers seeped from her, a tangible proof of what you’d just shared.
She collapsed beside you on the bed, her body sprawling across the sheets. She turned her head to look at you. Her expression was soft, open, utterly unguarded.
“Wow,” she breathed, a simple, exhausted statement.
You couldn’t speak. You just reached for her hand, finding it on the sheet, and laced your fingers with hers. Her grip was weak but sure.
You lay there for long minutes, the only sound your slowing breaths and the distant city outside. The sun had climbed higher, painting the room in bright, clear light. The ordinary world was returning, but it felt different now. Everything felt different.
She shifted, rolling onto her side to face you more fully. Her free hand came up to trace the line of your jaw, your cheekbone. “So,” she said, her voice regaining a trace of its usual melodic timbre, though it was still rough-edged. “That was… educational.”
You managed a weak smile. “For me, too.”
“I meant what I said in the kitchen,” she continued, her eyes serious now. “No shadows. No hiding.” She paused, her thumb stroking your lip. “This… this is what it looks like in the light. It’s messy. It’s intense. It’s fucking real.” She let out a slow breath. “Can you handle that?”
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.
Author’s note: Wanted to experiment a bit so I did a little something for @blanceverlast
"What do you mean I'm a surrogate baby?" I ask my parents.
"Well, JJ, you know we've had fertility issues, so we turned to surrogacy for help," my mom explains, but I narrow my eyes, questioning why this revelation is only surfacing now.
"Well, your 'mom' would like to meet you," my mother adds.
"And what does she do?" I ask, puzzled.
The plane ride to South Korea overwhelmed me; I never imagined my "mom" would be so far away. Yet, surrogacy can originate from anywhere, I suppose. As I sit in the back of the plane, my seatmate approaches.
She wears a mask, yet there's an enchanting aura about her. Smiling (or at least I assume so, judging by her eyes), she sits beside me. The plane takes off, and we sit in silence. Despite my efforts to stay awake, exhaustion eventually overtakes me, and I drift off to sleep.
Upon awakening, I feel a lightweight on my shoulders. I crane my neck to see my seatmate. Her mask has slipped down, revealing her face. As our eyes meet, arousal floods through me.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," she says, smiling.
Enraptured by her beauty, I stumble over my response. "I'd love it if you bothered me. Wait, no... you're no bother."
She smiles and sits up across from me. "Call me Haseul," she says with a pleasant voice. I smile back, extending my hand for her to shake.
"JJ charmed to meet you," I reply. Haseul takes my hand happily.
"So, what brings you to Korea?" she inquires.
I hesitate, searching for an appropriate response. "Um, my surrogate wanted to meet me," I reply. Haseul looks at me, puzzled, before smiling.
"Okay," she says before taking out her tablet. I glance over her shoulder, and she catches me.
"Do you like Kaiju research?" she teases, having caught me off guard. Surprisingly, I enthusiastically replied yes. Haseul's eyes flicker with interest.
"Oh? Then look this over and tell me what you see," she says confidently, handing me the tablet. I study the notes and diagrams, absorbing the information.
"This is a new species of Kaiju," I declare.
Haseul looks surprised. "Wait, how did you deduce all of that from my research?"
"Well, the DNA sequence at the 8th and 24th helix links is wholly different from any other Kaiju in the same family. Plus, if you examine the dorsal plates aligning with the spine, there's an unusual vein structure depicted in them," I explain.
Haseul's eyes widen in astonishment. "How did you notice all of that?"
"I like Kaiju," I admit.
Haseul looks impressed and asks me to go over all the research she just completed. Over the next several hours, we fill the time pouring over her findings. By the end of the flight, we've barely scratched the surface of this new Kaiju she accidentally discovered.
"Shit, we need more time. Hey, when you're done visiting your 'surrogate,' come to this lab," Haseul says as we pack up. She hands me a business card and her personal cell number. As we prepare to go our separate ways upon landing, I notice a dark-skinned woman who sees me and says, "James?" I look at her before Haseul pops up behind me.
"Yuma, you know JJ?" Haseul asks.
"Yes, he's my son," Yuma replies in English before saying something else in Korean that I don't understand.
Haseul's eyes widened as she smiled knowingly. The two women led me to a van, and we all piled in. Yuma remained silent for a while before speaking up, "You're probably hungry, James. Are you in the mood for anything?" she asked hopefully.
I nodded, replying, "Teriyaki Chicken sounds great about now." Haseul burst into laughter, causing Yuma and me to turn to her.
"What's so funny?" I asked. Haseul responded between chuckles, "You really are Yuma’s son. She loves teriyaki chicken as well," teasing with a cheeky smile. I shrugged, and Haseul's smile softened into an unfamiliar emotion. I chuckle as we get the food to go before piling back in the car.
We arrived at the laboratory, and Yuma took me aside to her office. "You’re probably wondering why I brought you here, why I did all of this," she said with a crooked smile similar to mine.
"Well, I just wanted to meet you and talk to you," she explained.
"I carried you to pay for my doctorate in Kaiju studies. I read field books to you while you were in my tummy, watching marathons of Godzilla, and Gamera movies while I studied just to stay awake, and feel you kick. It made me reconsider numerous times if I should give you up, but I was in no space to take care of a child. So I buried my growing feelings and went to term, but recently I have been feeling this gnawing emptiness. Against my better judgment, I reached out to your parents to meet you. I just wanted to hold my baby boy one more time," she said, hugging me tightly.
"A baby boy who's not so baby anymore,"
Yuma said, and I chuckled at her observation. A feeling of safety washed over me, and tears poured from my eyes. Before any other words could be said, a voice interrupted us. A big, burly man entered the room and said, "Excuse me, Yuma, you are needed." My "mom" broke the hug and smiled at me.
As I waited in the office, the door opened, and Haseul popped in. "Oh, great, you're here. Can I get your help with something?" she asked with a mischievous smile. I hesitated but couldn't resist her, so I nodded.
"Good boy," she purred, and I felt a strange sensation as she kissed me. Haseul broke the kiss and smiled. "Good, now you're nice and dumb. I need your help looking over a few charts for me, and I need you not to overthink," she said with authority. My mind was left in a hazy fog as she led me into the room.
I put my headphones in as Haseul sat at her desk and asked me to go over and aggregate some data charts. She handed me a laptop and an Excel sheet, and I diligently compiled and aggregated the numbers she'd asked for, going above and beyond by conducting a qualitative analysis of Kaiju markings and identifying outliers and notable specimens. When my "mom" came to look for me, I'd finished a substantial amount of work.
"Oh, JJ, there you are," she said as she entered the office. I looked up and nodded. She walked over and examined what I was doing, furrowing her brows before turning to Haseul, who was deeply engrossed in her work. A smile crept onto my lips as I watched her. My mom noticed and smirked before addressing Haseul, "Um, excuse me, but I think my son has helped you do half your work."
Haseul looked up at my mom and quickly apologized, "Oh, Mrs. Yuma, I'm so sorry, but JJ has been so helpful."
"I can see that. His notes on your compilation have been extensive," my mom teased. Haseul turned red but quickly pressed on, "It's not just that; he has an almost ocean-deep knowledge of Kaiju."
I shrugged, "I just like them," I responded. Haseul smiled, and I felt that strange sensation again, but this time, it was more intense. My mom noticed and smirked as we headed back to her place. On the way back, she asked me a question I 100% expected.
"Do you like Haseul?" I nodded, and my mom smirked, "Be careful with her," was her only warning. Sadly (but not really), I didn't heed it.
Haseul’s claws (she's a Red Panda Kaijin) were comforting and sexy even before she wrapped them around my throat. She started small with pet names like my puppy or Handsome. Then came some light flirty glances and touches. That's what sealed the deal I was hers. Her little pup to mold and shape how she saw fit.
This all culminated in the day before I left. I helped her and my mom finish something and Haseul said, “Oh my little pup so dumb but eager to please,” my brain broke and I responded (thankfully my mom wasn't there to hear this)
“Oh please fuck me dumb. Mark me and claim me as yours Haseul,” Haseul smirked at me. Her eyes narrowed as her scent filled my nostrils leaving me lightheaded and aroused. She slipped over to me and sat on my lap. Her voice took on a Saccharine and lurid pitch as she spoke,
“Oh my needy pup, what makes you think you deserve my touch,” she coos and I moan which turns her smirk into a wicked smile. If it wasn't clear to her before it was now. I am her little pup. I'm only hers to play with and manipulate as she sees fit. One hand palms my hardening cock and the other wraps itself around my throat. She smiles maliciously as my breath hitches and her control over me becomes absolute. She extends her talons enough to draw blood but my horny head only draws a euphoric pleasure from the sensation.
“I could rip your throat out and you'd ask me if you were a good little pet?” she said which elicited another moan from me, “Oh dumb pup I'm going to have fun training you.” Haseul gloated, as she began to stroke my rod.
As she did she licked my blood off of her talons the lurid sight drove me to new heights. After she licked the blood off her talons she licked my neck where she pierced me. I felt the wounds begin to heal as she eyed me with a ravenous hunger before telling me, open your mouth for me pup, and stick your tongue out.” I follow her command and she sucks my tongue while it's out before inching closer until our lips touch and devours me in a kiss. I resign myself to being her prey, she smiles viciously and then abruptly stops. My body jolts at her with a drawl of touch.
“Later my puppy. I don't want you to make a mess,” Haseul replies. I groan and get up trying to relax and take my mind off of her touch
Before I could walk off Haseul said, “No stay!” I returned to her as she commanded. She smiles. “I trained you so well. What a good boy.” Haseul says with her most proud and soothing tone.
“Sit” Haseul commands and I do. She revels in her power over me. I'm just so happy to see her happy.
“So here is how it's going to go puppy. I am going to not touch you for the rest of the day but when we get off meet me at my apartment and we will finish what we started,” Haseul said seductively. I nod and she smiles. We get back to work and she says, “Good boy,”
After I finish my “work” my mom has to stay late and leaves in the care of Haseul. Before I leave my mom gives me a rather large sum of won and says “Treat Haseul well tonight.” I nod and we drive off. I ride with Haseul and ask
“You hungry,” Haseul nods and we decide to head to a nearby restaurant. It's a pizza joint. We get in and I sit with Haseul. I'm nervous as this is a very different level type of intimacy that we haven't shared before. I swallow my nerves and go for the safest compliment I could think of. “Your glasses are great really show off how your eyes are dazzling,” I say. Haseul beams with a shy smile. “Oh, so that's the way to turn the tables,” I tease. Haseul narrows her eyes.
“Careful pup. I can take you to heaven tonight or leave you in purgatory,” Haseul says bitingly. I smile
“What so funny?” Haseul asks accusingly.
“Haseul I'm not trying to do anything funny I just really like you and no it's not just because of all “claiming” you've done. You're witty, compassionate, and gorgeous. Plus you like all the dumb stuff I like. Why would I upset you,” I reply Haseul blushes intensely before our food arrives. We eat in relative silence but Haseul makes sure I'm full and hydrated. She reasons that she wants her puppy to be ready for his walk. We entered her apartment and she excused herself to her bedroom before calling for my help.
And now you're all caught up
“So my pretty Firebear, what would you like to do first,” I ask. Haseul smiles
“Ooh, I like that,” Haseul coos, and our lips meet.
We break out first kiss and she smiles before pouncing on me. She rips open my pants and shirt before saying, “Be a good little puppy, and let me ride you,”
Haseul takes me inside her and my mind goes blank. She’s so tight. I try to formulate words but she starts to grind her crotch against mine. She leans in closer and says, “Oh my little puppy isn't so little,” I moan at her expert control over my body. Her touch is delicate but powerful. I watch as she sets her hands down and uses me as a tool for her pleasure.
“How is it,” I ask eagerly to see if I can grant her higher satisfaction Haseul moans out
“Oh God Puppy you fill me up so well,” I smile seeing Haseul lose herself to the pleasure. Her folds are soft and giving but viciously tight causing the friction between us to become so intense that I can't help but moan out as my mind turns into further slurry.
Watching me devolve seems to excite Haseul more as she gets tighter.
“Is my needy little puppy gonna cum,” she asks I groan and she laughs, “Come on puppy. Use your words.”
Haggard, I rasped out (in English ), “fuck take me. claim me as yours!” Haseul smiled
“Oh I like it when you lose control and your native tongue comes out,” she coos. My cock swells within her as her pussy tightens around me.
“That's right my little dumb slut to be used and abused,” Haseul said before wrapping her hand around my throat my breathing hitched as the terror and pleasure mixed. I couldn't think straight and just fed into her degradation of me,
“Yes, I'm your slutty puppy. I'm only good for my cock which doesn’t deserve to cum,” I watch as Haseul's eyes widen at my words. she smiles,
"Yes You're my puppy who only cums when I want him to and you've been such a good puppy," she says moaning as I can feel her near her release. "Now Puppy cum with me," Haseul says while moaning. I groan as her words and her pussy push me to release. we cum together and Haseul Smiles.
these Japanese girls are obsessed with me, my god they're after me 😣😫😩
Those Japanese girls got Yandere Tropes On their genes. They might be normal when you first meet them. But after a few heartfelt conversation. They suddenly felt so close to you, They started to get comfy, and get warm beside you. But what You might not know, They'll be Doing some Obsessive things behind your back. Even though you're not their partner, They will always think that they are your lover.
Day by day, They'll ask about your whereabouts, Constantly monitoring your movement. They'll secretly put surveillance cameras all around your house. When they saw You walking home with another girl, They would get fuckinh ragefull. They would look different all of a sudden, Their faces cold, Their expression lifeless. And when you weren't careful, Suddenly you felt a sharp pain around your belly.
And then you found out that You've been stabbed with a syringe full of sedatives. And with that, You'll easily fall asleep. As you hear their laughter, You can only imagine what will happen next.
I've been inactive from writing for like, three, four years?
honestly it was the worst thing to happen: your writing juice ran out. your ideas turn into mush as you are doing work for the capitalists because you also need money.
not only I wasn't able to recover from writing smut but my life has been on a different paths right now. even if I want to write some smuts or just fics, my time can't make it enough to save some from drafting or even making a scenario in my head.
also, to @writerpeach fuck you. you are the worst person I've met in this platform. you have the audacity to put me down just because I have other hobbies or interests in real life or even in this platform. I made a Tumblr account just for my hobbies at first. then I created a smut account which gave me ability to make some friends in the community. you and your posse of assholes are the toxic members of this community and I hope for the worst of your bullshitry.
moving forward, I want everyone to know that I'm going to take a step back further from writing until further notice. I wish everything will change once I came back and get my shit together.
again, fuck you @writerpeach go to hell you fucking cuck.
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.
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.”
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.
