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let’s walk where the grass is green

Pairing: Itzy’s Ryujin x Reader feat. NCT’s Jisung Genre: smut, angst, wlw, a little bit of fluff Warnings: mature, strong language, oral (female receiving), penetrative sex, use of sex toys (strapons), anus rubbing, lipstick fetish Word Count: 13k

Summary: Maybe it was the Regina George effect. She was a picture of beauty. She was effortlessly cool. She was popular. You had been watching her around campus for some time. You were a freshman in college that just wanted the popular girl to like you. That was it. That would explain all these butterflies in your belly. What else could it be?

A/N: This is a story that I’ve been working on since November. The stories I dwell on never seem to get fully realized in the manner I want them to be. Still, I’ve figured having at least one version of them out in the world helps me. So, here it is.

People tend to get full body awareness in the strangest of moments.

One moment, you thought you were floating everywhere. You were a part of this party, yet you were not. You could hear every single conversation in the room yet you could not. You knew each face around you yet you did not. Everything was clear as day and blending into one all at the same time. All you know is that you were grounded in reality by the red swipe on her full lips.

You snapped out of it when you saw them move.

“You know, in my experience, this is probably going to go well into midnight,” she spoke.

“Hmm?”

“Their game. It’ll be a while,” she said and you had a feeling she knew you hadn’t much been listening to her, “Share a bottle with me,” she smiled and suddenly, she leaned over your body to grab beer from behind you and you felt her arm graze your shoulder as if in slow motion. Like time stopped and her scent thickened till it surrounded all of you. She was in your space but you held your breath. You couldn’t breathe her in.

Why would you?

She was just a girl from campus. No different to all the other girls at this party.

But why were you holding your breath? Why weren’t you taking in her scent?

Maybe you wanted to be her friend. Maybe you wanted the popular girl’s approval. That had to be it.

What else would it be?

“Come, let’s hang,” she smiled and started to lead the way away from the thick of the game.

The party had started to thin out already. Most people were on their way out except for those surrounded by the Xbox. Jisung being one of them. She was right. No way was he going to move till the game was over.

You found yourself in an empty room with her. Was this her room? It felt inappropriate to ask. Yet, the way she lounged on the bed and leaned back on her palms made her look right at home.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Come, sit!” she patted the space next to her. So you sat, because what could be unusual about this? Some people were playing video games outside and you were just here in a room with her. Alone.

“You’re a freshman, right?” she asked as she took a swig from her bottle. There was such ease in her grace that it made your heartbeat quicken. Leaning back on her forearms, her leather jacket snug around her shoulders, a studded choker around her neck, a bottle of beer around her red lips. Sure, it was an alluring sight. Black leather and red lips and bad girls and rebels without causes. Anyone would react to that… right?

But why was it making your heartbeat quicken? Other girls tonight had been dressed in other pretty ways and you hadn’t thought much of it.

“Yeah,” you said.

Maybe it was the Regina George effect. She was a picture of beauty. She was effortlessly cool. She was popular. You had been watching her around campus for some time. You were a freshman in college that just wanted the popular girl to like you. That was it. That would explain all these butterflies in your belly.

But then she smiled, and there was ease in her smile, too. And there was warmth. She couldn’t be a Regina. You could feel her kindness, though not many words had been exchanged.

“I’m glad you could make it,” she brought her bottle to your lips. She had meant it quite literally when she asked you to share a bottle. There was just one. She looked at you till you realized you had to take a sip to that toast. Your face burnt.

“Are you shy?” she asked, tilting her head to look at you, studying your unsure demeanor. Fuck, she called you the fuck out. Maybe she could feel the heat in your cheeks. Maybe she saw the effect she had on you; because she grinned wider when you shifted in your seat.

“I’m not. Maybe a little?” you replied. Why was your voice so soft? Why did you still feel like a high school girl when talking to a cool college girl?

“Okay, then make eye contact with me for ten seconds,” she grinned coyly, pressing the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she challenged you.

Why did she have to wear red lipstick? Why did she have to wear this black leather jacket or that darned jeweled choker that made her look more irresistible than she already was? Why was she everything you wished you were? Elegant, yet wild. Intelligent yet adventurous. Why couldn’t you hold her gaze for more than three seconds?

She smiled wider and you saw the dimples form on top of her cheeks. “You are shy,” she decided.

“I guess I am,” you whispered and looked down. Then you felt her index softly lift your chin.

“Do you want to kiss me, Y/N?” she asked. She paused for a moment. Then she grinned.

You felt yourself freeze. And then a strange buzzing took over the entirety of your skin.

That came out of fucking nowhere.

And yet.

Did you want to kiss her? Or did you want to be her? You had no idea.

But your skin and your insides were buzzing in a yearning you had never ever felt before. Perhaps you had the answer in your very being.

She turned her body so she was looking straight at you, her gaze attentive and holding, “Wanna try?”

Suddenly, your heart started to race so bad you could feel it in your throat. Your breaths shortened so you couldn’t count them anymore.

Was this what you wanted? Did she put words to the feeling in your belly? Did she identify everything you’d been feeling all those weeks, when you were looking at her from afar? Could she know when you yourself didn’t? Your lips parted and your traitor eyes lifted from the ground to her lips.

You looked.

She smiled bigger. She did know. So she leaned in and delicately cupped the side of your jaw in one hand. She waited a beat, perhaps to judge if you’d pull away.

You didn’t.

So she pressed her full lips to yours once and pulled back slowly. A single, long press of the lips, hers to yours. Connecting and then pulling away with a sound so seductive you felt the heat from the kiss harden your nipples and electrify your core. How could the sound of a single kiss be so alluring?

Her pretty eyes bore into yours. Flirting, yet also searching. Asking for permission. You granted it in a blink and she took it in all her stride. She ran the back of her fingers along your jaw and let her fingertips graze along the side of your neck; making the blood rise hot in the tracks she left behind. Your lips parted. Her fingertips kept tracking along your skin till they scratched along the base of your scalp and you felt the tingles in your breasts. Her face was so close. She could breathe you in.

Suddenly, her grazing fingers held your hair in a tug so pleasuring it had your eyebrows knotting and your lips moaning a plea. She tilted her head and swallowed the moan in her mouth. Pressing in for a deeper kiss. Sweeping her tongue over your waiting lips, then pushing in between them. Swirling it in your mouth with a movement so indulgent that her nose kept gently bumping yours. She was in the moment. She was taking her time. You had never known a kiss to be so patient and so decadent. You were drowning in it. When she pulled away, you felt the emptiness. You wanted to keep drowning. You never wanted to resurface.

“Do you like it?” she whispered boldly.

Her lipstick had smudged in the corner of her mouth and if you were going to think back to a time where something in you shifted and made you sure of what you were, this was going to be it. This vision in front of you. Of a girl dressed the way she was, her red lipstick gently smeared from kissing you in a way you’d never been kissed.

“Yeah,” you whispered back.

“You’re really hot,” she said in a low voice. The flirt in her tone was slowly bleeding out and was being replaced by something that simmered. Lust. Shin Ryujin was lusting after you. Shin Ryujin thought you were hot.

“Yeah?” you asked in a voice that trembled.

She nodded, keeping her eyes locked with yours. “Your dress is really short,” she observed casually, her fingertips at the hem. You felt your face burn again. It would’ve been an odd, passé comment, except she had made it sound so erotic that you felt the warmth from it pool in your underwear.

You realized soon that those words were not so much an observation as they were a warning. Because she turned you by your shoulders so your back was to her. She brought her hands to the sides of your waist. Then slowly, sensually, ran them up your sides till they were cupping your breasts, right over that really short dress.

You moaned.

“Have you ever done this before, pretty girl?” she asked.

What could you say? Yes, but no? Yes, but never like this?

“Yeah…” you hadn’t said much else to her all night. Perhaps she’d understand. For now, her cupping hands had started to meticulously knead and for the first time in your entire life, you finally understood what women meant when they said that the breasts had a connection to the clitoris. Because you felt that pleasure travel in waves between your legs. Your exhales became more labored.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” she almost sang in pleasure. Her hands were getting needier, gropier, but never rushing. Taking her time because the night was still young. Each palm was placed over each breast. The pressure she applied was thorough and the movements she created were circular. Her fingers pressing in from beneath your armpits to under your bust, pushing your tits together. Then deeply circling to your cleavage and back. Deep, circular, massaging movements that made the buttons in the front of your dress struggle.

She’d been wanting to do this all night? To you?

Perhaps you’d ponder over this more fully when you had your wits about you. But the circles her palms were creating had become smaller and her thumbs and forefingers were searching for your peaks on either side. She moved them in circles, too, till she felt what she needed to feel. Then she lifted them up in a gentle, yet firm pinch, gathering the fabric of your dress and bra along with it. You let out an exhale of pleasure and pain.

“Relax, baby,” she whispered hot in your ear from behind you. You felt the shiver from her warm breath creep down your neck to your breasts under her hands. She licked a stripe behind your ear and you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. You were going to die and go to hell. You were sure of it. Heaven couldn’t be this fervent.

Her hand traveled to the small of your back and she held the fabric in a bunch in her fist. She tugged up, urging you to shift your weight so she’d achieve what she wanted--to have your dress over ass so she could creep her hands under it.

They were so warm, yet you felt the chills of it in the goosebumps she created. Her hands were on your skin and suddenly, you wanted to combust. But she had a more functional purpose. She felt around for the clasp of your bra and unhooked it. She moved your straps down your shoulders and slowly pulled to extract your bra from right under your dress.

“Much better,” she nodded, and you couldn’t do much else. You sat in her hold like a child to be undressed. Except she hadn’t fully undressed you. You still had your clothes on, though you felt as naked as you’d ever felt. Your body was buzzing in the newness of everything. This was hot. This was so fucking hot.

You felt your nipples poke through the fabric of the dress. She saw it, too. Because this time, she pushed a hand down your neckline and right over your breast, skin on skin, flesh on flesh. You couldn’t stop the helpless keen that escaped.

Her other hand pushed over the plane of your chest. “Lean back, baby,” she whispered and made you rest back against her. She turned your head and captured your lips into another wet kiss. This time, she let both her hands creep up the hem of your dress at the front till they were smoothing all over your tits. Surely, there must have been an easier path to your chest. But she wanted it this way. It was raw. It was feral. It was erotic as fuck.

She stopped much too soon. Her hands came away and they pulled the hem of your dress back and fixed it so it sat smooth over you. Her lips pulled away and she watched you breathless in her arms. She must have liked what she saw because she smiled softly and seductively ran her thumb across your lips.

“Should I keep going, beautiful?” she checked in.

“Yes, please,” you nodded and the rasp in your voice was shocking to your own ears. You were a goner.

She pressed a brief, relaxing kiss to your lips and then brought her attention to your buttons. She undid them, one by one at the front till the bust came undone. She held either flap in her hand and gently opened it like a curtain, baring you. Her thumb softly circled over a peak.

“I want to kiss you here,” she tapped with her thumb.

You don’t know what came over you. But you found yourself shifting till you had moved away from her and laid yourself back against the pillows with your dress undone at the front. You reached a hand out to her, inviting her in. It was the most initiative you’d taken all night, but you saw her moving towards you and you knew you weren’t crazy. This was real. This was happening. She wanted you and you wanted her.

She moved till she was hovering on top of you. Her hips hovering over yours. Her hair falling to the sides of your face. Her breasts over yours. Her heat against yours. She let her lips graze over yours. Not puckering. Simply hovering too close. Then she moved to bow her head towards a peak at your breast. Her tongue drew a tight, slow circle around the circumference, making your back arch off the mattress. You felt like a pervert. For only a pervert would’ve made the filthy, trembling sounds that came from your being. All because you were being licked at by a pretty girl.

“Mmmm…” she hummed into your skin and your head lifted off the pillows to brave a look and you almost wished that you didn’t. Because she had closed her lips around you and she was swirling her tongue over your nipple and when she pulled back, you saw that her lipstick had smeared on your skin and you just about lost your fucking mind.

Your hand crept up and clutched the breast she wasn’t paying attention to. You felt a strange feeling of liberation taking over your skin. Why hadn’t you done this before? Why hadn’t you ever touched your own breasts in such an attentive way? This was magic. This was eye-opening. The way her tongue swept over your nipple made your clit throb. The way her lips pressed deeply into your skin made you clutch yourself tighter. She sensed it.

“Easy, baby girl,” she held your wrist and moved your gripping hand away and gave it the attention from her lips instead. She held her mouth ajar and licked you in long, deep, even strokes. She had placed her weight fully on you now as she worked and it made you want to kiss her again. You didn’t know how to ask her. But your body did.

Your hands knotted in her hair and your lips reached for her needily.

“Baby…” she cooed and understood your sweet desolation. She came up and kissed your mouth and you wrapped yourself around her.

“Do you wanna stop?” she asked as she pulled back.

“No… I want to keep going. Please, keep going,” you begged, because you wanted the opposite of stopping.

She kissed your cheek and sat up, her knees on either side of your waist. She pulled at her jacket and slowly slid it down the length of her arms as you laid back and watched the entire time. It was a sexy fucking vision. She saw the lust drip thick in your pupils and she leaned in to kiss your mouth once more. Fuck, the sounds of her kissing your lips was so hot. How come it was so hot? How could she make kissing sound like the hottest thing in the world?

She sat up again and this time, she sat her ass right over your crotch and you held your breath. It didn’t go past her because she placed a palm between your breasts and soothingly rubbed.

“Relax, baby…” she whispered and slowly, sensually, she began to move her hips on top of you.

She was clothed and you were clothed. This shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. All this girl was doing was grinding on you ever so slow. But your core was on fire. You’re sure she could feel it.

“Are you having fun?” she grinned, and you thought it was a weird fucking check-in. She probably liked watching you squirm. Having fun? You’re pretty sure you were having a sexual fucking awakening. There was no other way to describe it.

“Yeah…” you replied and you were a little embarrassed that your voice sounded as needy and as submissive as it did. But she was in charge of this situation. There were no two ways about it. You’d fallen naturally into one role as naturally as she had fallen into the other.

“Good. I want to eat you out,” she told you boldly, like the words she said meant nothing at all, only they made your face burn till you felt your head would explode. Holy fucking shit.

She grinned and slid to one side of you so she wasn’t straddling you anymore. How easily she pushed the hem of your dress up your legs and collected it around your hips. Your breath was caught in your throat and here she was. If you had learnt anything about her, it was that her gaze was always present. She gave nothing short of her full and total attention. And right now, that very attentive gaze was squarely on your crotch and it was making you terribly fucking shy, though you’d never admit it. She ran a finger up and down the middle of your panties, watching the fabric disappear between the folds.

“Are you horny, baby?” she asked, as if it wasn’t already obvious. Maybe she wanted to hear it.

“Yeah,” you whined as she rubbed you just enough but not well enough.

“You’re so fucking wet. Have I made you this wet already?” she asked in barely above a whisper. She pulled up your underwear at the band so it pushed against your flesh more snugly. She licked at her thumb and pressed right over where she thought your clit might be, then right over where she thought your opening might be, then felt around lower till her thumb found the perfect divot of your puckered hole against the fabric. Like she was stamping it all, slowly, deliberately, one by one. Her thumb didn’t move from the divot; she began to rub it side to side. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Have you ever been touched here?” she looked at the spot rather than your face when she spoke and that only made you lose your fucking mind.

“No…” you shook your head. She smiled wide and stopped.

“Then we won’t,” she decided and you internally screamed, ‘No! Do it! I want it!’ except there was way too much about everything that was happening that you just didn’t understand. You wanted it and you didn’t know why or how much of everything you wanted. There were already too many layers of newness, too much to unpack, too much that you were only now discovering about yourself, and in all of this, how could you ask a girl you had just met to keep rubbing your asshole for you?

But then her fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear and she began to tug it off of you. No rush, taking her time, sliding it down your legs till you finally laid exposed. Exposed at the breasts, exposed between your legs, your dress doing the least to cover you up in any meaningful way. You wanted to hide your face, but you wanted her to keep looking. How strange this was. You were the exposed one, yet you wanted your own eyes to close and her eyes to see.

You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for what was to come. Who knew what she would do. You held onto the muscles in your body and you waited. But when the sensation didn’t come, you lifted your lashes to sneak a look. And there she sat. Lips parted, eyes hooded, looking down at you without an ounce of shame.

“Well, fuck,” she finally breathed out. She pressed all fingers of one hand down on the warmth of your flesh, “This is most gorgeous fucking pussy I have ever seen.”

You bit down on your lip because fuck, every inch of your skin felt like it would spontaneously combust. You’d never heard such words before, never about your own body. She made you feel like a goddess. You felt a hunger in your belly, though you weren’t sure what it was. She gave you the answer.

“Look at me,” she whispered. You did. She held your gaze and sank lower till her full lips pressed around your clit. She latched onto it and sucked deeply once and pulled back with a wet, vulgar sound.

You could feel your eyes widening, but your curiosity burnt with your core and you lifted up higher to see and moaned out, not only from the sensation but at the sight of her lipstick smeared on the private parts of you. You knew you lost your mind. There was no coming back from this. You would never have another experience that was as erotic as what happened right here.

She saw the pleasure in your reaction and it confirmed to her that you wanted this. More of this. So she settled in. She put a hand on either thigh and she bowed her head and pressed a softer kiss to your clit this time. She smiled as she looked up towards your face, then peppered more kisses onto it before finally latching her lips around and running her tongue in deep, full strokes.

Your next moan came out thick and broken as your back arched off the mattress and you propped yourself up on your elbows to absorb the pleasure.

“Fuck!” you moaned out because now she was humming into you and the roughness of her tongue was stroking your clit in ways you could never have imagined. Because this was the first time in your entire life someone had put their mouth on your pussy. You’d only ever heard that being eaten out was a feeling like no other. But she pleased you and suddenly, it was as if you’d never even felt pleasure before this. As if you had never experienced sex before this. None of your sexual encounters mattered. This. This was your true sexual awakening. You were too fucking sure. Pleasure had never been this decadent. This. This had to be it.

“Tell me which one you like better, baby,” you heard her voice from between your legs. “This one...” she licked your clit in up and down strokes and your toes curled from the jolts in your legs. “...or this one?” she licked from side to side and you let out a long exhale.

How could there be a wrong choice? Only a woman could provide choices where there was only pleasure in your pussy. What had you been doing all your life? Why had you never been with a woman before? This. This was how this was meant to be.

“The first one,” you told her and for the first time ever, you felt like you weren’t asking too much by asking to be pleasured the way you wanted. You felt in the air that she was as eager to give it to you and you were to receive it. She proved you right in how she flattened her tongue and ran long, repetitive strokes on your hood. So thorough that you could feel every bump on her tongue rubbing rough on you, only to satisfy. She was dedicated to her mission to please. From where you could see, all that was visible to you now was her nose pressed deep into the flesh of your mound. Your keens were coming in thicker and longer and more primal.

You didn’t recognize your own voice. You had never moaned this way. You didn’t know you could make the noises that came from your chest. Then again, you’d never been reduced to a state where you couldn't help the sounds that came out of your body. They all came from deep within you.

“Baby, please…” your hand went to her head of its own accord and she moaned into your pussy. You let out something between a wail and a whimper and she sucked your clit into her mouth and let go with a loud pop. She rubbed your lower abdomen.

“Is this working for you, baby girl?” she looked up to ask. Her red lipstick had smudged all around her mouth and a smear of it colored the tip of her nose and fuck, you were sure. You were sure that this image would be your wanktasy for weeks and weeks to come.

“Fuck, yes. Please… please can I have more?” you begged at her. For a second, you thought that maybe you were being too greedy. Asking for too much.

“Of course, baby girl. I haven’t even made you come yet. What kinda girl do you take me for?” she winked and sank her head between your legs again. “But you have to moan my name.”

“Ryujin…” you moaned softly and she smiled. She pulled your lips apart with either thumbs and this time, she began by kissing the inside of them. Licking you like she wanted to taste every bit of you, without leaving any spots behind. Like she wanted to discover all the sensitive bits of you and double your pleasure. Swiping her tongue in between and all over your folds and kissing every bit of you.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” she said happily, like she was in heaven. You were the one being pleasured and she was in heaven.

She pressed her lips on top of your opening then licked over and around it with the tip of her tongue.

“If only I’d known, I would’ve brought my toys,” she mused. You wished you knew what she was talking about, but you’re sure you would’ve agreed to anything she said tonight.

She started pushing the tip of her tongue inside of you and you gripped at the sheets. But then her thumb came up to rub your hood and your head fell back into the pillows.

Were you being exorcized? Was she sucking your soul out of your pussy?

It sure felt like it.

Because your back kept arching up and down and your throat kept singing in wails that didn’t sound like yours.

Her tongue kept pushing in and scooping out at your wetness and her thumb kept strumming you up and down. It was slow, repetitive and never ceasing. She picked up the pace in a way that was subtle but didn’t break the rhythm.

Your vision blurred and you felt a pressure in your belly you’d never felt before. Like an urgent need to piss, but not from your bladder.

“Let go, baby,” she said with the same urgency you were feeling.

How the fuck did she know? How the fuck could she tell?

“I don’t know how,” you tell her in a broken cry. So she stroked your clit deeper.

“Absorb the pleasure, baby. Listen to how wet your pussy is,” she said, her words trembling with a simmering excitement. She curled her tongue inside of you and did what she asked. You closed your eyes and you listened to the vulgar sounds your pussy made against her tongue and suddenly, it was as if your vision blurred to a white heat you had never experienced. Your entire body tensed and for a moment, you lost your sense of balance.

It felt like a transcendence. Like the body you were in was not really yours because why else would you lose all command? Why else would your hands be balled into fists and your heels pressed into the mattress and your eyes squeezed shut into oblivion? You weren’t you. You lost your sense of being. You couldn’t hear or see a thing. But you could feel. You felt as everything around you reduced to an electrifying nothingness and you felt a crashing tremble through your body that made you lose your fucking identity as Ryujin gave you the first orgasm of your life.

She stilled.

It was as if you’d been dreaming and you’d been floating and suddenly, your eyes opened and you came crashing back to reality, heavily falling down with all your weight.

But your eyes were closed.

You could feel the smile of her lips against your skin even if you couldn’t see it. She was gently rubbing your thighs up and down. But you didn’t say a word. You couldn’t say a word. Your chest was constricting in a feeling you were sure was sorrow.

Why would you feel sorrow?

“Are you okay?” she asked.

You didn’t know what to tell her.

“You don’t have to do anything in return,” she fixed your dress over your legs to cover you some and climbed up so she was laying on her side, turned to you.

“I need a moment,” you whispered and she nodded.

“Do you want me to hold you?” she gently asked. Her voice was soft. Calming.

You waited a beat.

“Yes, please.”

She smiled and held your head to her chest and you thought it was the greatest kindness she could’ve offered because you could bury your face away and hide, if only for a few stolen moments.

What could you tell her?

That the immense pleasure she had given you was now bringing you sorrow?

Because you had never felt anything like it before?

Because you had never thought sex could mean pleasure for you, too?

Because you had never thought that you could just ask for pleasure and have the person simply provide it to you in all their stride?

Because you knew in your heart you would never receive it ever again?

Or because you had no idea what you were anymore?

“Was it too intense?” you heard her voice. Your voice felt too viscous to speak.

“No… no, it was good,” you replied lamely.

Of course, she would know that your words didn’t match your thoughts. Maybe she would understand, maybe she wouldn’t. But you didn’t understand. You didn’t understand a thing.

“I’m keeping your panties,” she said easily and despite everything in your chest, you found yourself chuckling. And it felt so good to chuckle and have the emotion leave your body that you started giggling. It was a nervous, awkward, emotional sort of giggle. She probably thought you were crazy. But she giggled with you. You giggled till you were laughing and your lips were trembling because maybe you wanted to cry instead of laughing. So you let yourself laugh more so that strange sorrow in your chest could leave and only this silly, incredulous feeling could remain.

“I’ll get you a hoodie,” she said and pecked you on the head.

It was only an orgasm.

How could a fucking orgasm crush your self identity in a matter of brain numbing moments?

How could a fucking orgasm erase everything you had ever known about yourself?

Because you didn't know jack shit about yourself. Not a single thing.

"Hey look, your friend is all done," she smiled as you two walked out and you wore her hoodie over your dress and she kept your panties in her pocket.

The air felt way too chilly as you stepped out of that house and you only barely made out the voice next to you.

“Was that Ryujin?” Jisung asked, looking at the ground as he walked.

“Yeah,” you replied in a daze.

“Shin Ryujin? Influencer Shin Ryujin?” he asked again.

“Yeah.”

“What did she want from you?” he asked in a tone of mild interest.

“I don’t know. Just to drink.”

“We were supposed to drink together later,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I guess we can drink now,” you said. Jisung peaked a glance at you.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Shin Ryujin,” he said.

“I’m not. That’s the first time we’ve talked.”

“Cool.”

You didn't know your surroundings or the person next to you or the feet you were using to walk. You didn't know a single thing.

All you knew was that you lied to Shin Ryujin about Jisung being just your friend.

Days like these were rather uncommon. But all your roommates were away on holiday and the semester had ended and you had the apartment all to yourself.

Well. Self-care day it was.

You finally bid farewell to no-shave November and ripped at your body hair till you felt as smooth as a new born baby (if babies were born with bumps and fucking razor burns) and you scrubbed at your face with all the skin care products your roomates had accumulated. You dipped your toes in an acid you weren’t really sure how to use and you put on a sheet mask that burned at your fucking pores. And when your skin felt raw enough, you put on your warmest, fluffiest, pink bunny onesie and threw some popcorn into the microwave.

You’d never been one to turn down a cheesy movie in the cold of the holiday season.

What you hadn’t expected, as you carried your bowl of popcorn to the couch, was to hear the doorbell ring. You were pretty sure all your roommates were miles away. You’re pretty sure you hadn’t ordered anything online on a whim. Then who could it be?

You were incredibly, incredibly, incredibly stupid to have not checked through the peephole first and just bust the door open.

Because as if right from your deepest unrealistic fantasies, you found yourself standing face to face with one Shin Ryujin.

There she was. Hair dyed a darker color from the last time you had seen her. Dressed in all black. Wearing the same fucking red lipstick she wore that day. Looking like a fucking goddess.

And here you were. Skin bare and rubbed fucking raw. Wearing a fluffy fucking bunny onesie.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” she was grinning wide and not hiding back the fact that she was looking you up and down. Of course she’d look you up and down. You looked like a fucking dweeb.

“Uhh… yeah, sorry,” you said and stepped aside. You knew for a fact that you had never experienced a time in your life where you had felt as inelegant as you did in this moment. Because you were finding yourself snapping out of it one second, then staring openmouthed at the girl in front of you the next. You cartoonishly oscillated between the two a few times before you grabbed the ‘snap out of it’ feeling by the horns for five good seconds to formulate a coherent query, “Um, what are you doing here?”

She was still smiling as she stepped in. The picture of elegance and beauty, she looked like she had stepped out of a fucking magazine. You didn’t know what made your mouth water first: her long fucking boots, her crop top, that blazer, those chains around her neck or that fucking lipstick whose memory had lived on your tits and fucking pussy to this day.

“This is a cool apartment,” she smiled as she looked around, then turned to face you, “I’m here to see you, silly.”

“Oh…” you replied stupidly. Shin Ryujin was here to see you. Shin Ryujin was in your fucking apartment and she was here to see you. Thank fuck you had cleaned about a little bit after your self-care disasters. “Umm… do you want popcorn?” you offered stupidly.

As it turned out, she didn’t want popcorn.

Because moments later, you were making out against your bedroom door and you knew damn well that if you could somehow see yourself, you’d see her fucking lipstick smudging on your mouth. You were single mindedly obsessed with it. Maybe it was a fetish you’d never known.

“I brought supplies,” she whispered as she pulled away, caging you with a hand to the door against which she kept you pinned. You found yourself finally understanding the appeal kabedon had for people. To be surrounded by the object of your lust, where their presence commanded attention, and could absolutely not be ignored. So your voice was a little lost when you asked,

“Supplies?”

She pecked you on the lips and pointed her chin to her bag, “I promised you a full experience. What kinda girl do you take me for?” she winked.

You blinked.

“Sex toys, Y/N. I brought sex toys,” Ryujin answered to the nothingness in your expression.

“Oh.”

She chuckled and stepped back just a space so you weren’t caged by her body or her commanding presence so closely. “You’re so fucking cute,” her teeth gritted through some of the words, as if she couldn’t contain the cute aggression.

Your eyes widened and your face burned. You thought you were tripping. All of this had to be some sort of a fever dream. Because in what other world would Shin fucking Ryujin find you so cute she couldn’t contain it?

Were you really a cute girl?

Did Shin Ryujin really look at you the way you looked at all the cute girls of the world?

Because she was looking at you and her hands were balled into fists and shoulders raised to her ears and lips curled in a way that told you that she wanted to eat you up, in every way she knew how.

And perhaps it was in the air that made it so, but you found yourself accepting the image that Shin Ryujin was painting of you.

You were wearing a fluffy bunny onesie to play the part, afterall.

And once you had fully accepted that fate, the idea in your mind that you, too, were a vision from someone’s forbidden thoughts, that if she were a goddess, you were a cute fucking girl, you found yourself bent over your dresser with Shin Ryujin scratching the base of your skull as if she had a fetish for that place as you had one for her lipstick.

You became very aware that the onesie came complete with a tiny pompom for a tail because whilst one of her pretty hands was scratching the pleasure nodes in your scalp, the other was rubbing over that very tail and sending shivers up your spine.

“How do you feel?” she asked from above you.

“I feel… I feel great,” you replied, your voice breathy.

“Hmm, good,” she hummed. Then she smacked your bum firmly and your crotch jolted till it hit the edge of the dresser, more from the shock of the sudden impact than the impact itself. “How about now? Still feel good?”

You inhaled a sharp, shaky breath. Everything she did to you was a revelation. “Yes.”

Her hand then sat snugly between your ass and it cupped your crotch whole and she rubbed you through the thick fabric of your gusset. “Are you ready for more?”

Somehow your eyes became wider and your voice became sweeter, “Yes, please.” Accepting this strange encounter as inevitably as you’d accepted it the last time. Like it was nothing out of the ordinary, and like encounters like these happened to you all the time. Like it was normal to be eating popcorn alone in your apartment one moment and be bent over your dresser by a surprise visitor the next. Like your life had suddenly become the script of a poorly written porn film where encounters like these happened and the audience would just roll with it. Except you weren’t just an audience. You were the lead cute girl actress, but you were indeed just rolling with it.

“Good girl,” she grinned wide. “Are you wearing any panties?”

Your face burned once more as you replied, “No.” You hadn’t expected to entertain any visitors tonight, though you’re not sure if panties or lack thereof had any correlation to that or not.

“Shame. I was hoping to swipe another pair,” you could hear the pout in her voice and that made your mouth water.

Her hand found the tiny, invisible zipper placed oddly in the middle of the back. Slowly, patiently, she started to pull, all the way down so you were undone from the middle of your back to the base of your spine. She held both hems and gave them a firm tug, urging it underneath the curve of your ass. The fabric bunched and kept you in place; the pompom framed the new styling of your suit. You felt exposed.

“You’re going to have to raise your ass a little higher, sweetie,” she said matter-of-factly, making you feel even smaller than you were feeling. And because there was no other way you could do this, you wiggled your bum so you’d shimmy away from the fabric as much as it had give.

Under any other circumstance, this would be a humiliating position to be in. Bent over your dresser in a pink bunny onesie, zipped open from back to fucking ass. But right now, you felt nothing but incredibly turned on. You knew for certain that Ryujin was met with your glistening pussy the moment she exposed you.

The tip of her middle finger ran between your lips and she hummed as she spoke, “I’ve literally been fantasizing of this pussy everyday since that night,” she held the scruff of your neck firm and made you turn your head to look you in the eye. Her gaze was dripping with hunger. “You’re just as wet as I remember.”

She rubbed you firm and snug, lathering your wetness all around, pressing and squeezing your flesh against the strong heel of her palm. And then her fingers slid ever so slowly in and you couldn’t look at her anymore. It would be unholy to look, as if anything in this act could be considered divine. But she was hungry and you were hungry, too, and the only way to savor the feeling she gave you in this moment was with eyes squeezed shut. The decadence of her fingers pumping into your opening so that it created godless squelching sounds of a perverse need was a feeling you needed to absorb rather than see. It was evident in the lifting of your nose to the heavens and in the thickened whine that came from within you. It was as good as you remembered.

She made your pussy squelch a bit longer. The wetter it pumped, the wetter it made you. She had been right to bring your focus to it the last time. You were lost in the heat of your own sex. What else would she teach you?

Her fingers now came out of you and rubbed your own wetness all around. And then her fingertips grazed up higher and your heart leapt to your throat.

“Did you like being touched here the last time?” and fuck it if it you didn’t have an ounce of shame or pride when you replied in a voice so eager and relenting, you were almost embarrassed if not for what you’d get in exchange.

“Yes, yes, yes. I loved it. Please… please touch me, there, please…” it was the most verbose you’d been with her perhaps ever. How bewildering that it was that the need to have your asshole rubbed is what made it so. All you knew is that you hadn’t had the proverbial balls to make this request the last time and had regretted it all the while. You weren’t going to make this mistake twice.

You could almost feel Ryujin’s slight surprise in the air between you even if you couldn’t see her face. So you turned your head, boldly, and you didn’t recognize your own voice when you spoke and you looked her in the eye, “Please…” It felt like the flip of a switch, and suddenly, you felt like you weren’t even in your own body. It was easier to make depraved requests so openly when you could evade your own body from your own mind.

Her eyebrows were raised, and you could tell she was taken aback by the newfound eagerness in your voice. But she smiled, “Dirty girl.”

The heat in your pussy was greater than the heat in your face, and that made the entire exchange okay. And it turned out that communication really was the key when it came to things like these. Why hadn’t anyone told you that before?

Because within the next few moments, you found yourself being raunchously fucked into your dresser by a thick plastic cock whilst a deliciously warm pad of her thumb rubbed circles onto your tight puckered hole. The nastiest fuck of your life, delivered in a manner you had never thought possible.

The out of body feeling had continued when you had seen Shin Ryujin erotically rid herself of her blazer and top. You had had your jaw ajar when you saw her fix an intricate crisscrossing of leather straps around the crotch of her shorts–the pattern that became the carrier for the thick cock that would soon plunge into you and make you nothing more than a sack of obscene desire and bones.

But it was her rhythmic thumb on your rosebud that was making you so horny that you couldn’t contain the slew of profanities on your tongue. The fact that a beautiful woman was fucking you with a strapon was coming into a close second. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that you’d be taken in such a manner, by a woman no less. But you were here, your onesie was zipped open down your back and you were being fucked out and your anus was being rubbed to a puckering tightness. Surprisingly, it was the closing of her hand around your throat that brought you ashore from the cottony mush of your brain.

“Does this feel good, baby?” she asked. You were going to have to get used to her untimely check-ins.

“Yes, yes, yes, it does! Keep going!” your voice felt heavy and desperate. Your words came out too fast and too muffled. You didn’t want any interruptions or any changes in pace. This was deliciously fucking perfect, even if your legs were going numb.

“Do you want me to push it in?” she tapped at your sensitive asshole with her thumb and you almost swallowed your heart in your throat. Fuck, maybe you did want it, but you were scared. Would it hurt?

“Maybe I can keep rubbing you. Enough to make you feel like a dirty girl without really making you a dirty girl,” she mused in the time you took to ponder over her offer.

“Yes, please! Don’t stop anything!” this much you could communicate without shame. You wanted time to stop and nothing to change. You wanted to be in an infinite loop of this moment and this moment alone. You wondered if this was an almost selfish feeling, because you were placing yourself first. You wanted to keep on receiving this pleasure forever.

Except Ryujin had been selfless for as long as you’d known her, and you’d known her for one sexual encounter and a half. And she was true to her form in how she gripped at your shoulder with one hand to pull you back into her while her hips bucked into you and moved the cock within you in a rhythm that just worked. It was either that she knew how to work the toy or she knew how to work a pussy. She was a woman, after all, and maybe it was just that a woman knew what worked best on a woman’s body. You didn’t have much for comparison’s sake in either case.

And then the fucking repetitive, hypnotic, never relenting movement of her thumb on your fucking asshole. She fucking understood what you meant when you asked her to change nothing. She changed not a single thing and just went on with the perfect repetitive back and forth glide of her thumb and you knew you were whining and sobbing into the dresser from how fucking good it felt. How much longer could she keep going?

“I’m gonna make you come just like this, sweetie,” she promised. Fuck. She was going to keep going till you came. What if it took you hours? You had never been so turned on in your entire fucking life. But what if your system wanted to take its sweet time before taking to your crescendo? Could she really be that selfless and keep going for hours?

Who were you kidding? Her dirty promise had brought with it your arrival on the horizon.

“Please, don’t stop!” you begged again. Your hands were gripping onto the edge. Your knuckles were drained of blood. Your back was arched and you were taking in every sensation being delivered to you. You were so fucking close.

It was the sudden ringing of your doorbell that made both your necks snap in the direction of your door. Her movement halted. You fell off balance in space.

“Were you expecting someone?” she asked, her hands on the small of your back.

“No, no. Keep going,” you reached back and tried to aimlessly grapple at her hips to make them buck once more. You sensed a moment’s hesitation before she slowly resumed her movement. You didn’t give a rat’s ass about any doorbell right now; the mind numbing sensation between your legs took precedence over everything.

Except the fucking doorbell kept ringing. And when it stopped, your stupid phone started buzzing.

“Someone is missing you out there,” she said and decided for the both of you that the best course of action would be for her to pull out of you.

‘Nooooo! I don’t care who’s out there!’ you screamed internally. Your head dropped to the dresser in defeat as she zipped you back up.

“You better check it out quick so we can get back,” she patted you on the bum, “Go.”

You suddenly had a newfound appreciation for the word ‘cockblock’. Whoever invented it must have felt exactly what you were feeling right now. You were getting blocked from getting cock from a beautiful fucking goddess. You wanted to kill whoever it was that was going batshit crazy at your door.

“We don’t have to check,” you turned and panted at her.

She grinned, her plastic cock glistening in the dim lighting of your room. “I’ll be right here,” she pointed to her strapon.

You inhaled deeply as you looked, and you’re pretty sure you looked every bit as desperate as you felt. “I’ll be quick,” you all but ran out to your still ringing doorbell.

It was only when you arrived at your door that you realized that your pussy was still engorged and still slobbering wet and it had only been mere moments since it was being fucked out and you were in a fluffy fucking bunny onesie but it was too fucking late because for the second time tonight, you made the mistake of forgoing the peephole and just busting the door open to come face to face with your six foot tall cockblock of the night–Park Jisung.

He took a double take at you, like he wasn’t expecting what he saw. You saw the slight widening of his pupils and the quick resetting of his posture when he realized his reaction could be rude.

“I was trying to call you,” he held his phone up.

“Sorry, I was, uhm…” you tried to fix yourself some, though it was going to be a fruitless effort, “I was… busy,” you didn’t have time for explanations. All you wanted was to slam the door right back so you could get back to being dicked down because fuck it, you had been so fucking close to coming and this idiot boy had ruined your orgasm.

“I just, uh…” Jisung looked down at the ground, “I was just trying to see if you’re okay…”

“Yes, I’m fine,” you said too curtly, too impatiently. You didn’t even have the time to ponder over what Jisung might think this looked like.

“It’s just… it’s the holidays, and you’re all alone and we… we’d always be together during the holidays…” you couldn’t read the expression on his face. Not because you couldn’t, just because you didn’t have the time or the focus. You felt exactly how you'd feel when people decide to strike a conversation right outside the bathroom when you have a pressing need to piss but are too polite to say otherwise.

“Jisung… we’re broken up,” you decided to state the obvious to cut this exchange short as quickly as possible.

“Yeah, I know… I know. It’s just… I miss you…” you could tell he was trying to hold your gaze to connect with you, “And I just… I promised your mother I’d take care of you.”

The heat between your legs was bothering. It was distracting. You squeezed your inner thighs together to give yourself some relief and then you squeezed your pussy. It was a bad idea. You could almost hear it squelch against the wetness Ryujin had created. Your toes curled. You knew Jisung was still speaking in the background. But it was as though the heat of your pussy was now throbbing in your ears so that every other sound felt like it was coming from under water. One fuck and you were sex-crazed. One fuck was all it took.

“Jisung,” you interrupted him strongly, “This really isn’t a good time.”

“Are you… okay?” Jisung looked at your form, trying to look for signs of distress. He’d find many, though he wouldn’t know where it was coming from.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I just need to be alone. I’ll… call you later or something okay, but this isn’t the right time,” you held the edge of the door to show him how quickly you needed this to be over. But he held it, too. Fucking cockblocking shithead.

“Listen, Y/N. I know you said you needed time. I’m just… I just miss you…”

“Okay, fuck, Jisung. Listen,” you looked at him deadpan and tried a lie that sounded ridiculous to your own ears, “I have fucking depilatory cream slathered all on my vagina and if I don’t remove it right this instant, I’m going to get fucking second degree burns, so please. This. Isn’t. A good. Time.”

You saw the stuttering of his attitude and the reddening of his face and the awkward manner in which he backtracked from the door and you knew you had finally hit bullseye.

“Oh, I… I’m sorry, maybe I can come back later?” he couldn’t meet your eyes, not anymore.

“Yes, sure. Listen, I gotta go,” you said, and you didn’t hear another word or spared another glance in his direction before you slammed the door shut and turned the lock thrice. There will be no more interruptions today, not if you could help it.

You all but ran back to your room, and you were only obtusely aware that your feet sounded ridiculous in how they paddled against the linoleum in your hurry. But you burst into your own room and breathlessly announced, “I’m back.”

But Ryujin seemed like she was in no rush at all. She was relaxed and calm as she lounged on your bed, the fake cock still sticking straight up from her crotch. She was flipping through a notebook on your nightstand when you barged in.

“I was really hoping I’d find your diary. You seem like the kind to keep a journal,” she grinned from atop not-your-diary. Just regular old calculus notes.

“Um, yeah. I don’t keep a journal,” you replied, shutting the door behind you. You walked closer and wondered if the mood had simmered down for her. She had always been the one to make the sexual advances. You suddenly realized that you had no idea how to be the initiator. Skin on skin seemed like a starting point. So you decided to stand between her feet and loop your arms around her neck as she sat up in your bed. It worked.

“You know. I’ve always been curious about something,” she looked up at you and you decided she was an open book. You could hear the curiosity clear in her cadence.

“Yeah?” you tried to make your voice as sultry as you could make it. It was laid on thick, but you weren’t going to risk any more cockblocks.

“Mhmm. I’ve always wanted to know why people like this,” she put her hands on your hips and looked up at you.

“Like what?”

She tapped her tongue and tapped the head of the plastic cock in reply. You understood.

You held her gaze and sank to your knees. You puckered your lips and pressed a kiss to the tip. “You mean this?” you feigned innocence.

“That’s exactly what I mean, princess,” she nodded, intrigued. She held the top of your head. “Maybe it’s all for the show,” she wondered.

You understood once more. You kept looking up at her and bobbed your head up and down the dark plastic. You felt your lips stretch.

“Hmm, it’s definitely for the show. It’s making me want to rub myself,” she mused. You brought a hand to the base of the cock and used it to grind her. She inhaled a moan.

“Have you ever…” she began, then tapped her index first to her tongue and then to her crotch. You shook your head. “Hmm… well then, do you want to try?”

You sat back on your heels.

Maybe you did want to try. Sure, you were greedy and wanted to be fucked to an orgasm. It’s the one thing you’d been deprived of all your life, and now that you had somebody to provide it to you, you were being preservationarily greedy, like you had to have it because you wouldn’t know when next you’d get it. But sex should mean pleasure for both sides. And you had yet to give any pleasure to her in return.

You squared your shoulders and nodded your head. She smiled and you watched with an almost childishly whiny feeling when she unstrapped herself. You looked at the cast aside cock with forlorn eyes and almost missed the part when she slid her shorts off and laid herself bare for you. You swallowed.

“Come here. I’ll guide you,” she held your shoulder.

“Yes, please,” you whispered. The closer you got the more of her scent you inhaled. And it fogged your brain. She was beautiful, and the strikingly natural effeminate state of her intimidated you a little. She seemed confident in what she had. She had every right to be. You on the other hand had no idea what to do when you came face to face with womanhood.

She took your hand and led it to her clit. “Rub me here,” she said, and her voice had dropped an octave, like she too was bracing herself. That gave you some courage. You held your index and middle finger together and rubbed her nub with their pads. You looked up. Her expression still held the curiosity. But you wanted to see something else.

Instinctively, you dipped your head and pressed your lips where your fingers were.

“Fuck…” she exhaled. It worked. So you got to work.

You used your instinct and what you had experienced from her that very first time. You licked her up and down as her pubic hair grazed your nose. You kissed and used the flat of your tongue to lick and find a rhythm that was making her moan the most. When you were sure you had found your stride, you inched a finger in and moved it in hithered motions. It made her grip the sheets and arch her back and you became more confident in your abilities. She liked a faster flick of the tongue than you did, and you obliged, though your tongue had never moved like so, and you soon felt the soreness through the back of it. Not for long.

“Baby, I’m coming,” she warned and fuck, you thought it was so fucking hot. You made Shin Ryujin come. You hadn’t even been going that long, but you made her come. You made Shin Ryujin come undone on the first fucking try. She held her breath along with her moans as her orgasm coursed through her in a silent prayer.

She smiled wide with her teeth and laid back into the wall your bed was pushed against. And then she said the magic words, “Your turn.”

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself squealing with joy. As you rose from your knees, she unzipped you once more and laid you down on your back, legs in the air. You saw her begin to move her head between your legs when you held her shoulder, pointed to the discarded strapon and made your final plea of the night, “With that, please.” Your voice was needy as it begged. But it had to be done.

You gripped your bedframe as Shin Ryjuin fucked you out and made your floorboards creak from her movements. You felt the undeniable slobbering between your legs and the whimpering cries that were your moans when you finally, fucking finally came apart till you were shuddering and your heels were digging into the perfect shape of her ass.

Had you ever known orgasms in your life, you might have been closer to God. Orgasms were spiritual. Orgasms were like the prayers of a thousand angels in the power they coursed through a woman’s body. A woman’s body held the miracle of creation, and this miracle came only from a reverence of its beauty. It came from pleasure. It came from prayer. Orgasms were worship that reflected only light and everything that was holy.

Your mother would’ve called it a sin.

Yet when all was said and done and you laid in Ryujin’s arms, you wondered how something as innocent and beautiful as this union could be sinful. She held you and it was an angel’s caress. She worshiped you and you worshiped her. You were both goddesses and your bodies were miracles and you had venerated the other’s miracle and oragasmed. How could there be sin in such pleasure?

This was holy. As your eyes closed, you felt as close to God as you had ever been in your life.

How vile it is that a person who possesses free will must spend their life knelt in prayer. Yet your worship continued. So did hers.

She taught you with every graze of her fingertips on your skin that your body was a temple. That you had what you had; and what you had was a miracle. She kissed every bit of the divinity. She caressed every inch of your skin. She gave you pleasure like the kind promised in the foreverland. And she sealed it all with the prayer of an orgasm. She prayed on your body so much that you began to wonder what you were before you had fallen into her arms.

But you weren’t an angel, nor a miracle. You were just a sinner with free will. And you had never been a believer.

Because you laid in her arms as the cold of the winter softened. The trees shed themselves leaf by leaf till there was nothing left; but nothing changed in your prayers.

And yet, everything changed.

She met you and met you but you never met her. You’d been right. She was always the initiator. What would happen if some day she didn’t want to initiate?

Perhaps you got a preview of it one night whilst you were tangled up in the sheets and your hearts were warm and your cores satisfied. In an unusual whim, you had captured the moment in your phone and you had found it so poetic that you wanted to share it with the world. People would only see a moment of happiness; nothing more nothing less. It was innocent.

“I don’t really put my personal life out there,” she had said, and you had looked up. “I’ve got lots of followers on Instagram. I just keep my private life private,” she explained.

It was a simple and honest explanation, one that made sense. But your heart had hollowed. You could hide her, but did you want to be hidden? You hadn’t questioned it till then.

Then again, you didn’t know what you wanted. You hadn’t a clue.

When you laid on her chest another night, you listened to the contentment in her breath. She was what she was. She was still the campus goddess that you had spent all those weeks admiring from afar. She was still the popular girl that everyone adored. Yet, now, she was so much more. She was also an introvert that enjoyed the peace of the four walls with you. She was also a lover who had so much to give. She was a thinker who enjoyed silence though one might not see it. Above all, she was patient and mature and understood that the storm in your chest needed it’s own time to calm.

Time had no meaning. You felt like you’d known her all your life rather than a couple of weeks. At the same time, you felt like you no longer knew your own self at all. You’d met her in the changing weather. When the ice was melting and making way for the flora to have new life. A transition. And with it, these weeks had erased everything you knew. She’d come to you and you’d accept her. Like it was as easy as that.

You knew nothing. It was an uneasy feeling. It was saddening.

Your throat constricted. She felt the hitch of your breath against your skin. Her warm eyes looked down to yours. She waited. Like she knew you wanted to speak.

“I don’t know what I am,” your voice struggled against the chains that held you back. These chains had always held you back. You were locked by them everywhere you went.

Her fingertips found the base of your scalp. They scratched lightly and you felt the pleasure tingles, except this time, they made you want to cry. She gave you pleasure in pain. She gave you pleasure like you deserved it.

“Does that bother you?” her soft voice sounded. You looked at her and nodded. Your lips pressed together, sealing the storm. You couldn’t speak. You never could. You never had the right words in the right moment. Words weren’t meant for you. Words belonged to other people, just as pleasure did.

But you had pleasure now. Maybe you could have words, too.

“It’s like I’m walking down a pasture and it never ends. Like I don’t know where I’m headed and I don’t know the way,” you didn’t understand the words you said.

What were you trying to say?

That you had no idea how this had happened? That you had no idea you’d accept it as naturally as you did. That you had spent your life hurting people when they didn’t give you what you wanted, because you had never known what you wanted?

What were you?

“But you think the pasture is taking you somewhere?” she asked and you looked up. Her question made the lump in your throat ease some. You thought deeply.

“Yeah…” you replied, “it’s like I keep wandering around the dieback when I should be on the green grass. I don’t know what I am.”

You had given up on the world’ most perfect life. You’d given up on a boy you’d grown up with, who was kind of heart and true to habit. You were his habit. Your mother liked him and his mother liked you. You could’ve stayed and you would’ve gone through college together and you would’ve married and he would’ve given you children. Just as it was meant to be. Your mother would’ve been happy and he would’ve been happy enough.

Yet, here you were.

Who were you when you weren’t with him? Who were you when you didn’t have the habits you were taught to have all your life? Who were you when you realized that none of those habits had ever belonged to you?

Who were you when you were with her?

“What’s keeping you from the green grass?” her fingertips scratched at the back of your neck and your eyes closed to pleasure.

Pleasure.

Pleasure is what changed you.

You were never allowed pleasure.

Get up, be God-fearing, keep your head down, never question anything, marry the boy you grew up with who could never make you come, have his children and turn to dust.

That was the life you were expected to live.

Then she worshiped your body. She kissed and she caressed and she gave you pleasure and orgasms and everything changed.

You found who you were.

“My shackles,” you whispered. Your heart lightened. You could let them go. You had let him go. So, what was stopping you now but your own shackles? Why were you stopping yourself at all?

“Do you think you can break free?”

You looked into her eyes and felt like she understood every word that you did not speak. Like she had read your mind and had lived the life you were only now starting to live. How brave she was. And you were in her arms. What could stop you?

“Yes,” you whispered the word. A single word. A word that belonged to you. A word with so much power that it did it. It broke your chains.

“Then let’s always walk where the grass is green,” said she.

“Okay,” spoke your lips as you felt so light and so free that you felt like you could fly. As you rested in her arms, you saw from the window that the bare branch of the mulberry tree had little sproutings growing from its arm. Spring had begun.

“Ewww, lovebirds!” the animated voice of your friend walking past made you pull away from Ryujin’s lips.

Ryujin laughed and you shot a cheeky grin in the intruder’s direction.

“You’re welcome to join!” Ryujin called after her and it made you laugh bigger. You both got a well manicured, perfect coffin shaped acrylic of your friend’s middle finger in return. You both grinned as you watched her disappear into the cafeteria. But the weather was too good to be indoors. The sun was out and spring air was clean. Every now and then a wild mulberry would fall from the tree you lounged under. Ryujin was piling them into a heap as she snuggled into you lazily.

“I’ve always wanted nails like that,” you pointed in the direction your friend had disappeared off to.

“They seem like a bitch to have. You probably can’t even wipe your own ass properly,” she said factually. You scrunched your nose.

“That’s not true. I had the ballerina shaped acrylics once and I could wipe my ass just fine,” you pouted your lips.

“Sure. But you won’t be able to wipe mine,” she sealed her point with a kiss to your pout.

You scoffed and looked away. She was right. You’d given up on acrylics since you’d met her. Then again, it wasn’t a massive sacrifice, all things considered. Ryujin was snuggled into you under the open sky in the very place where you had seen her for the first time; it seemed like an ancient time, when you’d admire her from afar and think she looked a fantasy. And now you were a part of her picture. You would give up acrylics forever to have this for the rest of your days.

How natural it felt, to be sitting here like this, in front of your friends, in front of the campus, in front of the whole entire world. No one thought anything of it. Not a single person. Not even your friend who had pretended to gag at your PDA as she walked past. No one cared that you were dating Shin Ryujin.

How amazing that was.

All your life, you had stayed in the shadows of your own fears, shackled around the wrists and ankles. You blamed your surroundings, you blamed God, you blamed your mother, you blamed. But it was you. You had put the shackles on yourself. Your fears made you overly concerned with what people thought of you. Your shackles contained you to your limited experiences. You assumed what people might think of you without actually knowing what they thought of you.

They thought nothing of you. No one freaking cared. And realizing that gave you the biggest sense of freedom.

“My followers want us to do a couples yoga challenge,” Ryujin announced as she scrolled through her phone.

“Interesting. What is that?” you wondered.

“Exactly what it sounds like. They’ll send us yoga poses and we have to fail at them and break our backs for their entertainment,” she replied.

“Sounds fun. I’m down,” you pinched the tip of her nose.

“Why can’t you ever be down for something more lowkey. Like staying in and napping challenge? That sounds more fun to do,” she complained and spoke into your belly as her eyes closed.

“That genre of entertainment might not have a big enough audience,” you scratched the end of her scalp. A habit you’d picked from her.

“Mukbang challenge,” she suggested.

“Mukbangs are not challenges,” you retorted.

“Only eating foods my girlfriend makes me. Now that’s a challenge,” she looked up and stuck her tongue out at you.

“Hey. I’m down for that, too,” you shoulders shrugged up in a challenge of your own.

“Okay. Now less talking and more napping in the sun. I have class in an hour,” she settled into your belly more deeply.

“Fine,” you sang and leaned back against the tree trunk and let her have her nap.

You scrolled through your phone and found a message from Jisung,

’Your mom texted and asked if I’m visiting for the holidays.’

You sighed.

Your mom would need some explaining.

You looked at the girl sleeping on your lap and brushed a strand of hair from her face. How could anyone not love her? Love was all she had to give. You’re sure your mother would understand. And maybe, she would keep loving you, too. Perhaps Jisung would eventually forgive you, too.

You took a deep breath and at last began to compose the message to your mother. You finally had the courage. And you were not alone.

#ryujin fic

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