this is a reimagining/alternate take of the original fic
fanprose
—————
It’s been ten minutes since the concert ended. It was almost everything you’ve dreamed of. Almost.
The night is almost over, but you want it to start from the top. From the moment you woke up this morning. Maybe too far—at least from the moment you entered the venue.
You're scrolling your phone, ignoring its low battery, scanning, studying recordings of the concert like its game footage, replaying, pausing every frame, every possible still where the members could be looking right in your direction, at your lens. It goes without saying: no fancam does their visuals any justice. Especially up close.
But that’s besides the point. Here’s the answer: they're not looking at you.
There's no point of contact. Not a single photo, a single second, or a single frame in any of the footage you've caught did the girls find you or your lens, even when they're looking right in your direction. Nothing at all. You were caught up in the energy and the chaos of the pit to notice. How their gazes would flicker to the people beside you or behind you, but never land exactly right on you. The way they'd skip past you in favor of someone else. Even when you were frantically raising your sign, practically begging to be noticed, they never tried.
But it’s all in the past now. The staff are making the announcement, ushering in the VIPs into the backstage lounge by clusters where the send-off will happen. This is your last chance. Your hail mary. After being overlooked the entire night, you believe this is how the universe will rewrite the ending—the plot twist, that this is how it will balance itself out.
You're already at a disadvantage by the time you're being led in. Along the main stretch, barricade and the first three rows after have been occupied by those who were herded in first. People who probably paid their way to priority, you assume—or just plain bad luck, seeing as you’re among the later people to enter. Given your desperation and how everything seems to go against your best wishes, you choose to believe the former. You can try and settle somewhere in the fourth row, behind tall behemoths with their equally obstructive signs and jostling for a partial view of the girls. If they couldn't see you up front, they definitely wouldn't find you now.
Miraculously, your gaze snags on a lone island in this sea of bodies: a spot in the corner on the right side of the room shadowed by a concrete pillar. And no one's taken their spot in it just yet.
So while everyone's busy taking up the prime spots in the main row or closer to the entrance, you stake your claim before anyone else considers it. Given the circumference of the lounge, they're bound to walk past you again. This time, however, you're right at the edge. The very last thing they see before they return to the center. You. It’s as perfect of a goodbye as you’ll possibly get.
A few others pick up late and take their spots around you. No matter. Surely, the interaction you've been expecting the whole night is all but guaranteed.
For the next few tense minutes, everyone anxiously waits. The roar of the crowd inside the venue has softened to a softer, yet still electric rumble. Despite the rather intimate setting, the lounge houses a few hundred strong, you surmise, given how the VIPs stretch across the barrier in several rows like a tidal wave.
Then, from a distance, a door can be heard swinging from a distance, its echo ripping through the room like a call to arms. Everyone stops what they’re doing. The room goes quiet. Their attention focuses on the small hallway on the left, right across your view.
The ripple comes quietly at first, like a receding wave before an incoming tsunami. Then, the room erupts through into a thunderous roar like it's the very first song of the night.
The girls are here. Again. Still wearing their encore fits. Still unbelievably ethereal.
Even from a distance, you can tell they're exhausted. After all, it had only been 40 minutes since the concert ended, and they'd given their all on stage for the better part of 2 hours, to the point where their speeches felt more rehearsed and scripted than ever. But the idol veneer doesn't crack; not completely. What little sign of weariness on their faces effortlessly disappears when the light shines on them, seemingly gaining a second wind, looking ready to go another round. As they turn to the crowd, they’re waving and smiling, professional as ever.
Staff made three things clear: they'll go around once, there’ll be no signing, and no accepting gifts or letters. Everything else—selfies, videos, signs—is fair game. The handwritten letter in your bag now feels meaningless. But not your sign. The same one you've been holding up for the last couple of hours. And somehow, even after all the screaming and cheering, you still have your voice. You'll expend the last of your lungs if it means they'll finally look at you.
They start from the other side of the room, and you watch them deliver their best. From left to right, they slip into fanservice like it's muscle memory.
Gaeul's as calm and calculating as ever. She waves at anyone and everyone she sees. She spots a banner with her face plastered on it with a message printed in Hangul and smiles at them like it's the most precious thing in the world. Then she leans forward to pose for a fan's phone, and the lights above shine like they're meant solely for her. She asks them to show the photo, and after a brief inspection, nods in approval before moving on.
Rei is the people's champion. Hand to her ear, she implores the room to chant her name, listening intently at every voice, making them shout louder and louder. Yet somehow, she notices one standout in the crowd and points at them. A fan holds up a sign asking her to do that stupid gesture (you know the one), and she obliges, complete with her trademark cheeky grin. The crowd roars in approval as they yell out 'six-seven!' before she moves past their section.
Leeseo's sunshine personified. She's bouncing on her feet, but grounded at the same time. Someone makes a half-heart in her direction and she completes it. Then another. And another. Another fan holds up their Erang-e plush in front of her and she tickles the fabric like it were her own. She fulfills everyone's request with an energy that feels relentless, but with a smile reminiscent of Wonyoung: restrained, cautious. Her eyes catch on a girl trying to call her from behind a trash bin, sandwiched by bodies also trying to get her attention, and she meets her halfway. Doesn't matter that her hair's touching the chute; she's gonna meet them all.
Wonyoung is exactly who she is: an untouchable princess, grace given human form. She keeps a careful distance from the barriers; not cold or apathetic, but delicate and guarded. However, every little motion she does is smooth and effortless. She's the most attentive and keen-eyed of the bunch (though they all are). Her skin radiant under the lights, she points at every girl in the crowd, and floats along the line with her usual style. Someone yells if she can do her legendary twirl, and she delivers, leaving that section swooning. Another asks her if she can have a photocard signed; she puts her hands together gently and bows apologetically. To compensate, she waves her fingers around in the shape of her signature and blesses their camera with a flying kiss.
Liz carefully scans the crowd. Not as careful or guarded as Wonyoung or Leeseo, but just—quiet and shy. She finds a fan holding up a little sign and ring asking her to marry him, and she laughs. Make this teasing face, finger to her chin, before mouthing that she'll think about it, and he just fucking loses it. Much like Wonyoung, she keeps a respectable distance from the barricade, but her eyes work quickly through those holding her photocards, banners, and signs to point out every single one. Someone asks her to pose with Rei; she hesitates at first, but Rei spots them and they oblige, and the chemistry is undeniable.
Lastly, Yujin makes the girls go berserk. She knows she can drive them crazy with anything she does. A slight hint of skin, a flash of her toned midriff is lethal enough. She keeps the motions simple: wave, heart, request. Rinse and repeat. But once in a while, she'll flaunt her body and tease. Whether by posing with her shoulder or lifting the bottom of her shirt to make her stomach clear, she relishes being ogled at.
Slowly but surely, the members make their trip around the line. Trying to find every face possible, trying to fulfill whatever request they can within reason. No signing stuff or handing gifts or letters, but they do their best everywhere else. Staff and security closely flank each girl, gesturing subtly, whispering behind tightly knit hands: A little bit faster please. We have to go.
And they try. Even with time against them, they try. Most of their love and affection end up falling in the first three rows; anyone below 5’5 and those further back are hidden behind taller, more demanding hands and a cloud of unruly banners, signs, picket fans, and phones. It's bad luck and poor optics at play.
Not you, though. You're in the right spot. Perfect for them to find you right as they finish their walk around the line.
So you wait. Nervous. Desperate. Each step they take brings them closer, and with you, all the more anxious. The thought starts out small, innocuous: what if they don't see you, what if they stop right before your section, what if—
No. There's no way they wouldn't—
But right now, that's the last thing you want to be thinking about. They're mere inches away, right at touching distance, one member after the other. Gaeul first.
Phone on one hand, homemade sign on the other. Any interaction—just one second of clear, direct recognition through you or lens—is more than enough to complete your night. Your voice finds strength. Here we go.
Gaeul's completing a girl’s heart a few feet away from you. You're screaming her name, still as loud as two hours ago, even though the cracks occasionally show. She waves to someone holding up a Dal-e plush, giving them a thumbs up. The guy that’s been beside you throughout the show and now here shows her a sign with her face photoshopped on an orange in reference to some joke she made during one of her variety show appearances, and she laughs, pointing and asking if she can hold it for a photo. Afterward, her gaze shifts, and you can feel her eyes tilting in your direction. This is it—
But she snags right before you make direct eye contact. She stops on a dime and turns on her heel, walking away from your section slowly, waving to the crowd in the distance. Ouch.
But there's no time to react; Rei bounds in, smiling ear to ear. She high-fives a kid and pats her head, then does her signature aegyo for a fan holding up a sign saying he traveled from the Philippines to see her. Right there, dancing along the barrier, she's also just one glance away from finding you—but she doesn't. Much like Gaeul, she turns around and walks off, done with your section.
The pain doesn't register, at least not right away. Your smile quirks a tad. Hope flickers, but it isn't completely dead. Not until they're all saying goodbye and leaving the room. There's still four more chances. Surely.
The worst thing imaginable isn't about to happen—right.
Leeseo's next, still lively as ever, still infectiously beaming. She completes a heart from someone in the third row, pushing through a wall of bodies between her and the fan sandwiched in there. However, aside from her and doing a magic sign for someone behind you, that's pretty much it; she steps back and waves at the surrounding area, which someone feels intentionally hurtful since her gaze and flying kiss doesn't include you. Then like the other two before her, she proceeds to back away and spins on her heel returning to the center.
Still keeping distance, Wonyoung points and shoots. She blesses every fan with her gaze and her magic fingers. A girl holds up a sign asking her to make a wish since it's her birthday, and she stops. Closes her eyes and puts her hands together, mutters a little prayer, then she blows a magic candle for her. She then spots a fan in the fourth row holding up a peach-shaped sign with a picture of her and Yujin posing together during one of their fansigns. Yujin also finds them and joins her to recreate it. After sharing a laugh, Wonyoung spins away in the other direction.
At this point, you've all but given up. You've lowered the sign and raised a mental white flag. No matter how hard you scream their names, they don't hear you. No matter how much you wave your sign, it doesn't exist. In their eyes, you're like transparent glass they see right past.
You don't break, at least not completely. Your knees crumple as your heart splinters and fractures. The tears are barely held at bay out of fear that you might cause a scene. Not here. Not in front of several hundreds of strangers and your idols right there in an intimate, private setting like this, especially with all the phones.
Two members remain. Yujin has moved to the back of the line to entertain what you can assume is an acquaintance or some friend, meaning Liz is up first. She blinks, waves tirelessly at every fan she can see. Someone dressed as her from one of her music videos (Elizabeth Helga Muller, obviously) catches her eye, and in a rare moment, she steps forward to pose with her. But it's quick and fleeting; she steps back just as quickly, and returns to waving at everyone within her line of sight. Even so, you appear invisible to her; she stops at a fan beside you, pointing out her face on the guy's shirt before taking her leave.
And finally, Yujin. Back to completing your section, she laughs at a sign held by a guy saying he's cray cray for her. She winks at another fan's camera, then shows off her toned, bare shoulder for good measure. The cheers climb a pitch higher, much to her amusement. You too, are screaming your lungs out; you don't know where this second wind came from. Desperation, most likely. Like if she doesn't find you within the next five seconds, you are probably gonna explode.
Nothing like that happens, obviously. But it doesn't hurt any fucking less. If she was holding a knife, then she twisted it into your heart, took it out, and stabbed you again for good measure.
So yeah. Of course she doesn't see you either.
The last thing she obliges to is a girl's request to say hi to a friend FaceTiming in from the fan's phone. Then she joins the others at the center to wave goodbye. They’ve been waving nonstop, fulfilling a few extra requests before her arrival makes them stop.
"Thank you all for coming! Safe travels everyone!" she yells out, met by a final roar of approval from the crowd. They seem to be more than ready to move on. One stop done; now it's onto the next schedule and beyond.
You don't see none of it, only hear how you've been nothing. That you were, in fact, nothing. There's no point in watching this slow trainwreck of a night unfold any further. No point in fighting the tears and exhaustion too. You've crumpled onto the barrier, your legs giving out and crying in silence, too tired to save face at this point. No one cares anyway. They're all busy celebrating their own wins to notice. No commiserations, no comfort—just a cold, brutal reminder that your best nights are just another day in the office for someone else.
It's never been so over.
"Are you okay?"
The voice is soft. Quiet. Almost lost as white noise in this sea of your own tears and pain.
You're drowning in your hurt to notice or respond.
"Are you okay?" it asks again. Then you feel a touch: gentle, faint, almost indiscernible—on your shoulder.
By instinct, you look up. Your eyes go wide. Yujin.
She’s right there—not gone, not at the center, but crouched on the opposite side of the barrier mere breaths away. She finds you, all wet and teary-eyed, as in, waterfalls streaming down your face, and her features have never looked this soft and tender, even when you've seen her at her most vulnerable. It's not performance anymore; it's the human side of her showing. Even the pillar that's shadowed your presence the entire time can't hide you now; you feel bare, open, exposed.
The other members have followed her too, their faces all equally gentle and concerned. They encircle themselves near the barrier. For you.
You sniffle, shake your head. The tears come faster now, and so does the shame and embarrassment. Of course you wanted your idols to see you—what fan wouldn't want to be seen—but not like this. With all the cameras and faces now watching this unfold, it feels like a spotlight has been thrust upon your very existence.
The crowd's energy has dimmed to a careful, reverent silence. Phones are still raised, carefully capturing the moment, but not a soul dares to raise their voice beyond a whisper. There's no demands, no interruption from any fan asking for more. People are telling each other to hush, to give space, to let you talk. That's how big a deal this is. The staff motions to the girls about the time, their schedule, but Yujin raises her hand and says to give them a few minutes.
"It's—okay," you manage to blurt, still shaking your head. Barely audible, like you're forcing your lungs just to get the words out. "You're already behind schedule—you should go—"
"It's fine," she says, facing you with that puppy smile. "We have time. All the time for you."
Gaeul steps forward, nodding in agreement. "We're not going anywhere. Not until we make this right."
"I'll be fine," you insist, wiping tears from your eyes, averting your gaze, your breaths coming in heavy. "You—you don't have to—"
"We want to," Rei cuts in gently. Still carrying her trademark joyful spark, even in this tense atmosphere. "And you're not fine. We can see that. You don't have to lie to us."
Though she sounds kind and soft to the ears, you wince. The wound is still fresh: how their gazes flicked past you every single time. This feels like a harsh course correction, something whispered to them at the last minute by staff or some other power for good PR—
"We missed you," Liz then chimes in, partially hidden behind Yujin's shoulder, but her eyes steadily linger on you. "During the concert. And here. We didn't see you. And we're sorry."
"You had a sign," Leeseo adds, sounding so tiny it feels like she's the one who needs comfort the most. "You were waving it hard—we just didn't see it. Fully."
"There was a pillar," you argue, sounding feeble in the hopes you can make them go away. Not because you hate them—sort of—but rather you don't know how you can properly handle this. "I didn't expect you to see—"
"We should have," Wonyoung interrupts, tilting her head. In a rare moment, she takes a couple of steps forward, the closest she's ever been to the barriers tonight. "It's our fault for not looking thoroughly. We're sorry."
"No, no," you insist, shaking your head a bit harsher this time. "It's not your fault—it's none of your fault—I'm just—nothing—"
"Stop." Wonyoung cuts in sharply again, firm but compassionate. Her smile isn't the usual elegant, royal mask, but something tender and raw. "You're not nothing, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. Ignoring you was our mistake."
"I can't—" you sob. "I don't think I deserve—"
Leeseo pulls out a handkerchief from her pocket, holds it out to wipe your eye. You allow her; gentle and warm and reassuring. The fans around you have stepped back when the other girls touch the barrier. It's not staff making the command, but their own doing: voluntary and of their own accord.
"I'm not that special—" you insist, taking Leeseo's handkerchief to clean your face; it doesn't work. "I'm nobody. You didn't have to do all this for me—"
"Don't say that," Yujin softly chimes in. "You're our Dive. You're special to us."
"Besides, everyone else here got their moment," Rei adds, caressing your cheek. "Why shouldn’t you?"
All you can do is cry into the handkerchief while the girls softly reassure and comfort you with their delicate touches and overall warmth. No one steps in, not a fan, not the staff. Wonyoung waves them off with her mere stare to let them stay a few moments longer.
Liz sees the sign lazily resting on your sneakers. You’ve been drowning in your sorrow to realize it’s clattered onto the ground.
"Is that—" she points out, but your eyes tilt down and catch it before she can finish. You hastily pick it up and hide it.
"The sign," Leeseo mutters out, her gaze now drawn to it tucked under your arm. "Can we see it? Please?"
Your face feels like it's been set alight. You hesitate. "It's—stupid. Everyone had cleaner, more memorable signs. Mine is just—embarrassing—"
"Don't be like that," Wonyoung says. "Please. We want to see it."
The room holds its breath. Someone near you mutters show them. For a few moments, the world stops. Waits for what you will do.
So you pull it out. Reluctantly, presenting the sign face forward. You're not an artist (never were); it was made with middle school arts and crafts and held together by prayers. The message itself is simple and in Korean, but they carry what you've been wanting to say for years:
You make my universe spin. Thank you for coming here.
And beneath it, in smaller text but no less important:
Please give me a heart <3
They read. Take their sweet time to process every word again and again until their gazes flicker to you, tensely holding it up and waiting.
"How long have you been waiting for us?" Yujin suddenly asks.
"Four years," you say, blunt and to the point. You could tell them you missed the first world tour because it never came anywhere close. That you had to watch the concert film off some camrip online because it wasn't screened in any theater either. That this country can barely get foreign artists to perform here, let alone K-pop acts, much less a group with their popularity and status. But those two words alone are more than enough to convey years of tireless patience and yearning.
"Thank you," she says, after a pause. "Thank you for waiting for us. And we're sorry. For ignoring you. We didn't realize—"
"I know," you interrupt, holding her hand when in reality, it should be the complete opposite. "And you don't have to apologize. Like I said, I'm nobody. And there were so many people” —you sigh— “I guess I let my expectations get the best of me—"
"Stop," Gaeul interrupts gently. "That doesn't matter. We should have seen you. You're not a nobody. You waited for so long. Cheered and screamed for us when we finally performed for you. That means the world."
Leeseo makes a heart, as what was written on the sign, but her face looks like it's on the verge of breaking. "You deserve to be seen like everyone else. And we couldn't do that. We're so sorry."
Wonyoung bows slightly. Liz's hands are pressed on her heart. Rei's hands are folded together. Gaeul lowers her head. Leeseo’s still making a heart with her hands. You can feel genuine remorse through their subtle actions. Of course you'll forgive; they’re still human—but you're still under the impression that you don't deserve this—that they're wasting their precious time for something as small as this.
Yujin looks at her members, then back to you. "What can we do for you? A selfie? A video? Tell us. Whatever you want. Please let us make it right for you."
You shake your head. The tears have dried up. You're ready to let go. "It's fine. You don't have to—"
"We want to," Rei interrupts. There's a certainty behind her voice, like she won't take no for an answer. "Everyone had their moment. So should you."
"The send-off is over," you argue otherwise. "You're already behind schedule. Staff are already waiting impatiently.” Your gaze flickers to the staff waiting close by, seemingly indifferent but you can imagine how annoyed they are. “You should be going by now. Seeing you up close" —you sniffle— "was more than enough. I can try again next time."
A pause. Then Wonyoung speaks:
"I promise, we really want to make it up to you. You're not forcing us or anything like that. We chose to come back. We want you to have your moment. With us."
"No one should leave feeling empty-handed or feeling like they don't belong," Rei adds. "Not a single fan."
"We love you as much as everyone else," Liz says. "We want you here. You deserve to be here."
"Don't do something you’ll regret," Gaeul states, and her words just break you. Not in a crushing way, but in a manner that feels like a weight being lifted off your shoulder.
So you fall apart again; the tears come rushing back out once more. "I'm sorry—I don't think I deserve this—"
Leeseo lunges forward to pull you into a hug. The members try to stop her, but quickly relent. The crowd makes a collective gasp before they fall into silence once again. Staff try to intervene, but Wonyoung catches them with her stare, so they too, step back.
"You do," Leeseo mutters against your ear. "You're our Dive. You deserve the world."
Yujin's hand rests over your shoulder before gently patting you on the head. "You cheered so hard for us. Waited so long to see us. The least we can do is give that love back even a fraction, knowing we can never fully reciprocate it."
"We're not gonna rush or leave," Liz adds, like she's read your mind and knows what you're about to say. Her hand finds yours, squeezing tightly. "They can wait. We can wait. Right now, our time is yours."
And they stay. A few minutes, maybe the next half hour—you're not checking the time—but they really, truly stay. Even when you deny them again twice, thrice—they insist. Saying the same assurances over and over: that you deserve to have the same experience as everyone else. That no amount of refusing can ever get them to change their mind. That you matter. Your feelings matter, and they are all valid.
"Just so you know, we're just as stubborn as you," Rei quips, smirking lightly that you can't help but chuckle a little. The crowd even laughs a little, proving just how much of a mood setter she is. "But go. Cry all night if you must. We'll be here. Until you’re ready."
Eventually, you concede. The last of your fight finally dies, and with it, your resistance. You try to return the handkerchief to Leeseo, crumpled in your hand, but she nudges it back. You tell her you're done crying.
"Keep it," she says with her soft, wide beam. "So that you can remember tonight. The good and bad parts, but mostly the good parts."
And for the first time in what feels like forever, you genuinely smile.
"I—I want to take those photos now."
The girls' faces light up like the skies have parted.
You're still sobbing when you hand over your phone. Rei gestures to a staff member to take the picture. She voluntarily goes first. Standing beside you while the others give way, she pokes your cheek again while readying herself for the shot. Her transformation into idol mode is almost instantaneous.
"You're not smiling wide enough," she mutters against your ear, her breath suddenly feeling hot against your skin.
"I'm trying," you answer, "I mean, broken heart and all—"
She doesn't listen; rather she covertly slips a finger behind your back. Nudges you, at a ticklish spot near your ribs to force a giggle right the moment they snap the photo.
"Dude!" you blurt out right after, facing Rei with a face that seems more annoyed than angry, but in a good way. She grins; teasing, mischievous, intentional. The air in the room shifts to something lighter, more serene. The girls smile watching you interact.
All is right, however, when you take a proper photo the second time. She pokes her cheeks while you hover by her side, never feeling more awkward in your life.
Next up is Leeseo. Her energy is a bit more subdued, but infectious nonetheless. Remembering the sign, she asks you to make a heart; you oblige, and she mirrors the gesture, pressing your heads together.
Yujin goes third. She opts for a cool pose; she slings her arm around your neck, and you can feel how toned and strong she actually is. At the last second, she sticks out her tongue right as the camera snaps the photo. She cups your face and reassures you one more time that you're loved before pulling away.
Wonyoung hovers by the barrier, the closest she'll ever get to touching you—or any fan for that matter. She pouts her lips for the picture, punctuated with a wink and she makes them the most graceful things imaginable. Then before stepping back, she blows a kiss directly in your face, and your heart jumps.
Liz shyly steps into the frame, hands folded together. You're more than fine with that. The photo is quick, but she mutters a soft, sincere 'Thank you' and 'We see you' before retreating. As she makes way for Gaeul, Rei jokingly calls out to her: "C'mon. That's it? No pose, no nothing?" And she laughs. Heartily. Liz motions a thumbs up in your direction that you meet with a little chuckle, and she's more than satisfied.
Finally, for Gaeul, she stands close to you. She eases you into the shot with small, rapid-fire questions: what’s your favorite B-side, what's your favorite performance of the night, who's your bias; she laughs when you tell her she's your bias and your favorite solo is Odd, because she knows you're lying but won’t explicitly admit that. She asks if she can hold up your sign for the photo, and you happily oblige. You also take one shot where your hands complete a heart for good measure.
It doesn't matter you've been framemogged into oblivion; you'll cherish every photo for the rest of your life.
But as you think you're done, Yujin makes one more suggestion:
"One last photo. With all of us."
No one argues. They arrange themselves in their usual positions, with you flanked between Wonyoung and Yujin at the center. Wonyoung quietly hovers beside you, reminding you to smile, that it looks good on you. Liz does a simple peace sign. Leeseo sneakily makes a pair of bunny ears over your head. Gaeul pulls the group close to the point where you can feel them all brushing against you. And Rei, unsurprisingly, goes for your sensitive spot again.
"Say I-ting!" Yujin yells out, and the room echoes in unison, including the crowd itself.
Click.
The photo is taken. The phone is given back to Rei, who hands it back to you for all to see. You're smiling. Wide. True, genuine joy. It's the best photo of the entire night. You don't know how this will make for a wallpaper or lockscreen, given that it was shot horizontally, but you'll figure out how.
The staff that took the photos gestures to them again. "Girls. Time," is all he says, and reality has come to bring you back down to earth.
They nod. Understand immediately. Time stops for no one. Life goes on.
"One more time, we have to say sorry," Yujin says. "For missing you. For making you feel invisible. That's on us."
"You don't have to apologize," you reply, sniffling a little. "I don't—I don't deserve this—"
You simply nod. There's nothing left to say, because you're done fighting. And for the first time in a while, your heart starts beating again. "I will."
Yujin holds your hand. She looks right between your eyes. "Next time. Next show you go to, tell us in advance. We'll find you first."
You gulp your throat. Hope is a dangerous thing. What if they don’t come back. What if you never see them again. What if—
But you’re hoping anyway. "Promise?"
She smiles. Not the idol type that's been practiced countless times, but the genuine, tired kind. Her pinky finger intertwines with yours.
"Promise."
The girls step away for good. The daze is starting to break. They're all kind, gentle smiles and apologetic bows as they wave goodbye.
"Thank you for being our Dive," Yujin mutters, holding your hand a bit tighter before finally letting go and joining the others.
Once more, the girls gather at the center of the lounge. The way the crowd erupts is like a beast finally unfettered from its restraints: raw, awe-inspiring, earth shattering. They're waving goodbye for real this time. However, there's one key difference: when they turn in your direction, at your section, they pause. Make sure you're in their line of sight. The intent is clearer: it’s specifically for you.
Wonyoung blows one more kiss. Gaeul nods slightly. Leeseo makes one more heart. Rei prods your cheek from afar. Liz puts her hands together close to her heart and bows slightly. Yujin mouths something you can't quite hear, but you can read her lips: We see you. We love you. A tear escapes your eye, but you're waving back. The fire is brighter than ever.
And finally, they file out. The night is well and truly over.
Around you, people are buzzing. Not just with their own interactions, but praising the true nature of the idols they have seen with their own eyes. People who truly live up to the title. The kindest, most genuine souls who deserve everything.
More importantly, they're celebrating you. Hugs, claps, cheers, pats on the back. People are asking to airdrop or share the photos taken, sending their own POVs of how these six women came back and saved you. Your win is their win too.
From being nothing to becoming the man of the hour. It's overwhelming.
The feeling hasn't fully sunk in. Even with all the evidence on your phone, the last ten or so minutes were like a dream. But the tears, the catharsis—they were all real.
It's almost midnight by the time you make it out of the venue. The girls are likely on their way to the airport now. Even after everything, your best night is simply that: another schedule, another stop on a never-ending grind.
It doesn't make the feeling any less magical.
They really came back. Just for you.
When the realization comes, you can't help but cry. But they are no longer tears of pain, but complete, fulfilling joy.
—————
(A/N: hey so can't you tell i still haven't moved on yet
happy one month show what i am! saw they added kitsch back to the set as an encore track in macau and i fell to my knees at walmart 3 and that's on top of fireworks being a japan exclusive song too. agh the pain of being a sea fan lmaoooo
anyway, this was lowk the other idea i had brewing for a while aside from the original fic. i wanted to save this for le sserafim since they have the best send-offs from what i seen but i think i'll do something else for them by december. seems like i'm milking this bit like naughty dog with the last of us but yeah. these stories/ideas in particular have been a personal comfort to me whenever i question my place as a fan and by sharing them, i hope you feel the same way too. thank you for reading ♡)
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?"
"It’s fifty-fifty. It either happens or it doesn’t."
You set your glass down on the table so hard it nearly cracks. "It is not fifty-fifty."
She shrugs—Chaewon’s quintessential uncaring attitude about anything you say—as she falls down into the couch. "But it is, though." She pops open another beer like she hasn’t had enough to drink already.
She always does this. Chooses some ridiculously wrong position to dig her heels in. Like if she just believes it to be true, the universe will bend to her will out of sheer exasperation. You should just ignore it, and just let her believe what she wants to believe. There really is no point to it with her. You drag a hand down your face, because you've been here before. You’re always here. There is a universe where you’ve been having this argument since the dawn of time. Monty Hall sits upon his cosmic throne and watches you suffer.
"You pick a door," she says, holding up one finger like she's making a serious mathematical point and not actively committing a war crime against logic. "And then Monty—whoever the fuck he is—opens another door. And now there’s two left. So, you know. Fifty-fifty. You either win the prize or you don’t win shit."
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
And she still doesn’t care. If anything, she revels in your frustration, grinning and taking a lazy sip from her beer.
“I thought you liked your girls a little stupid,” she muses. You like Chaewon. Always have; since before her rejection and until now.
She might be onto something.
“That’s what I saw earlier at the club, anyway,” she mumbles, and it’s pointed, a sharp dagger concealed by a hushed voice.
You pay it no mind. It’s just Chaewon being Chaewon. Doing everything in her power to annoy the fuck out of you. You shake your head. “I like my girls with a basic understanding of probability.”
She hums, her gaze dragging over you, and it lingers. Long. Too long. So long it’s causing the alcohol induced haze to retreat from your brain. Then she just smiles again, takes another sip, and the buzz is back.
Chaewon stretches, arms flexed into a peak above her head, sliding against the backrest of the couch, her head landing against the armrest of the couch opposite of where you're sitting. Her legs stretch out off of the floor, her dress riding up, clinging to and stretching on her hips.
It’s a performance, designed to squeeze out resistance from any sap that would dare defy her. It’s impossible to tell if this is just Chaewon’s purest form, her instincts kicking in to naturally make any man submit, or if it’s a carefully crafted weapon, deliberately utilised and aimed with immaculate precision. Either way, it’s fucking lethal.
Lace-trimmed thigh-high covered feet land in your lap, crossed. You glance down at them. Stifle a thought of fucking the exposed part of skin right below her dress and above her socks. Breathe out through your nose, annoyed.
She sees. She was waiting for you to see, to be more exact.
“What?” she asks, but she knows the answer. Feigning innocence, but the chances of it convincing you are slim. “Is the view not to your liking?”
You flick your eyes up to meet hers. Flat. Unamused. Stern. “Jesus, Chaewon.”
She cocks a half smile, hands up in the air like she’s being put under arrest but confident she can flirt her way out of it. “Relax. It’s just a joke.‘
Right. Just a joke. One she’s been playing at for far too long now. One you’re absolutely not in the mood for tonight. One that is quintessentially Chaewon. Mean. Sloppy. Reckless.
That’s what alcohol does to her. She gets all handsy and touchy and feely, disregarding any feelings or reservations you’d have about being touched meaninglessly by the girl that didn’t want you.
And the joke is not exclusive to you either. You’ve seen her like this before, with other guys. Hands on their shoulders and theirs on her hips, leaning in too close, laughing too loud. It’s just her usual mess. It doesn’t mean anything.
She’s warm, just warm enough that you can feel her through your clothes. But warm enough to make you fear the sparks could ignite something that shouldn’t be. Before you can have any more prohibited thoughts, you shift, trying to nudge her legs off of you.
She doesn’t budge. Deliberately. Straight up refuses to even acknowledge the attempt.
You sigh. “Get your legs off of me.”
Chaewon blinks at you, lashes fluttering faster than your heart can beat, her lips pouting— a poor substitute for saying she can’t believe you’d say that to someone this cute. She chuckles, transforms it into a smirk, and tilts her head.
“Make me.”
She presses the arch of her foot against your crotch. It’s right on target. Light. Testing. Provocating.
It’s impossible not to react. You could sit here, not do anything, let her rub your hardening cock through your pants a bit, enjoy the feeling of her getting you worked up. But that’s not what this is about. You know this pattern. As soon as you acknowledge it, it stops, and even if it didn’t, it would all be meaningless.
So you react. You grab her ankle, and shove her legs off of you.
She lets out a soft “oh,” before laughing, low and amused. She works herself back up right, shifting her legs underneath her, but she doesn’t look the slightest bit deterred.
“Wow,” she mocks. “Sensitive.”
You roll your eyes, reaching for your drink. It’s water. Unlike Chaewon, you know when to quit, much to her annoyance. “Stop being weird and focus.”
“I am focused!” she retorts, all tension and energy. “Are you focused?” she says finally, slow, saccharine, like honey that's taking its sweet time to drip from a spoon into your mouth. “Not too distracted by how fuckable I look in this dress?”
You don’t acknowledge it. Again, no point. You set your glass down with a deliberate clink— any noise to replace what she just asked—then reach for three random objects on the coffee table; her phone, a book, and a coaster.
“We’re settling this tonight.”
She puts her beer back on the table, folds her hands in her lap, and sits with her whole body pointed at you. She shakes her body loose with slight movements. Then, slowly, she smiles.
“Please,” she says, voice sultry and teasing. “Teach me a lesson, professor.”
You’ve probably explained the theory to Chaewon more times than there are episodes of the show that inspired the discussion. It’s time for a practical run-through. You grab the three nearest things you can find and leave standing upright to function as make-shift doors—your phone, your glass of water, and a book Chaewon has been quipping from for the past month, How to Date Men When You Hate Men—and you form a neat row of three. “Let’s drill it into your skull. Three doors. One has a prize. Pick one.”
And for all the effort you put in, she barely looks. Eyes on you, finger pointing in a different direction. “The book.”
“Right, and that was a random choice out of three, meaning—”
“That I was either right or I was wrong. Fifty-fifty.” She shrugs, and shuts the door on this method of having her understand.
She’s perfectly frustrating. “it’s not fifty-fifty—”
She shifts the opposite way from her previous slide, her head landing in your lap. Her cheek rests against your thigh, and her provocation pokes at your heart. She gazes up at you, lashes fluttering a hypnotic rhythm. “This is more comfortable. Keep going.”
How could you?
“Chaewon.”
She hums, but she doesn’t acknowledge your protest. “What? Does having a cute girl’s face this close to your dick make you nervous?”
Ignore it. If you acknowledge it, it only gets worse. You push it down, she’ll eventually grow bored, and as long as the boulder doesn’t slip from your hands, you’ll be done with this forever. “Okay, so now, Monty—”
“You’re looking a little serious,” she muses, herself looking anything but. “Would you look like that while getting head? All furrowed brows, all focused?” Her lips curve deviously like the curveballs she’s throwing you. “Or would you be more relaxed? I can go deep, you know. No need to worry about me.”
Every cell in your body is telling you to push back, take her up on what she’s offering, and let her ruin this night. But you know. You’d get your hopes up, but she’d just call it a silly joke. Keep ignoring it. She’ll get bored.
You take a slow breath. Slow down your rhythm. “Are you done? Monty opens a door that isn’t the prize. That leaves two doors with potential. Your first pick was only right one-third of the time, so if you switch—”
“Aaaah.” Her mouth opens, tongue peeking out like a landing strip, eyes fluttering shut like she’s waiting for you to shove your cock inside.
That’s it.
You shove her off, not rough, but firm, standing up from the couch you might have sunk in immediately. “Can you cut it the fuck out?”
She’s back upright, giggling, back landing against the couch, legs curled beneath her. “What’s wrong? Blood rushing away from your head?”
“Do you ever stop?”
Her arms stretch over her head again, and you’re starting to see a pattern with the way her dress is stretching against her hips. “Not when I’m having fun.”
It’s maddening. Talking with Chaewon is selecting a door, continuing to talk with her is being shown the wrong door and choosing to take it willingly. “You really don’t care how frustrating you make the Monty Hall problem, do you?”
She smirks. She must think she has it all figured out. “I already told you. Either something happens, or it doesn’t. Fifty-fifty, dude.”
“That’s really not how probability works.”
“That’s how life works.”
You shake your head, and accompany it with an equally disappointed sigh. “You just don’t want to admit when you’ve made the wrong choice.”
She stills, and it’s eerie. It shouldn’t have happened. Then, like a mask slipping back, she recovers with a sly grin. “Or maybe I just like my way better.”
Before you can argue, she makes her move, getting up, pressing against your arm, chest squishy, warm and deliberate against you. “But you can explain it to me as many times as you want.”
She’s impossible. “Chaewon—”
And she leaves no room for response. “Go on,” she purrs, pushing her tits smush against your bicep, molding around the way your muscles tense. “Teach me.”
Your patience and her dress have one thing in common. They’re both razor-thin. “I mean it.”
She hums, and she smiles, and she’s convinced you’re going to give in any second now. “Not a fan anymore of me touching you?” Her voice drops, all warmth and provocation. “Would you rather reverse the roles, have you touch me? Be careful. I’m sensitive.”
Your fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling it high with a firm and stern motion. “Cut it out.”
She clicks her tongue, and scowls in return. The joke is over, and you ruined her fun. “You liked it plenty when that slut at the club was all over you.”
“That’s different,” you say, your jaw tightening up. She knows it is, and it’s not fair. Does she think she can get away with it just because you’ve got a thing for her? Or, used to have, you try to convince yourself.
She’s so clearly unimpressed it’s almost hurtful. It wasn’t a lie though. It was different, that girl at the club never tore your heart out. But none of that matters when Chaewon wants to have her fun. She scoffs. “Must’ve been nice. You didn’t even flinch when she touched you. Just leaned into her, didn’t push her away like you do with me.”
You don’t answer. You let go of her wrist, sit back down, unsure what to make if anything yourself. You could have gone home with ‘that slut’. Had a great evening. Instead, you’re here, keeping your promise to Chaewon that you’d make sure she got home safe, wasting another night on a girl that should have long been in your past already.
That same girl plants both her knees next to yours on the couch, dress creeping above her hips, exposing the slightest hint of black and lace panties straddling your lap, settling against you.
You hate how right she feels here.
She rocks her hips down, just slightly, just testing the waters. And like an experienced professional, the joke’s back on. “You sure you don’t want to have a little fun?”
Your hands clamp around her waist—not pulling her closer. Pushing her off.
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t resist. Just concedes as the distance grows.
“Come on,” she murmurs, trying to make sense of it all. “You used to love looking at me.”
Your arm extends fully, pushing her as far as your body allows. “That was a long time ago.”
She lets out a small scoff, more hurt than the lost one, finally relenting and shifting off your lap. The joke is no longer fun for anyone in this room.
You just have to bite the bullet. Separate her from yourself, let the alcohol fade from her system and figure out what to do after that. “Go to bed,” you exhale sharply, a forced sense of finality in your voice. “I’ll sleep here, and be gone before you wake up.”
Chaewon stares at you like you just suggested the unthinkable. Her eye twitches, a habit you’ve long learned to associate with her being so upset that something is going to break. Then, she exhales sharper than you did, standing up. “Fine. Whatever.”
She turns, stomping toward her bedroom, her pumps exploding with sound every step of the way. “It’s still fucking fifty-fifty, by the way!” she yells, right before she slams the door.
It’s suddenly silent. Silent enough to hear your heartbeat going crazy.
She’ll calm down soon enough. Hopefully.
The heat of her body still burns against you, scorching where she was pressed against you. But if you ran after her now, you’d get burned alive. You rub your hands down your face, sinking into the couch, staring into the ceiling as you mentally prepare for what’s bound to be a sleepless night. There’s no escaping those as long as Chaewon is a part of your life.
----------------------------------------
Sleep doesn’t come.
You want to blame it on the horrible way this couch is digging into your back. Or the sounds of the city being ever present. Or the dim glow of some street lights seeping into the living room through Chaewon’s curtains that never managed to fully close. But comfort isn’t the issue.
It’s your damn mind, that can’t shut the fuck up.
Too many thoughts, all tangled together like a string of memories that wrapped around itself far too many times. Her hands, her voice, her weight in your lap. Her unusually prickly temper, and her enhanced sloppiness.
It all feels too fucking familiar, and the moment you admit that, there’s no holding it back.
It started as a night much like this one. You and Chaewon, at her place, sitting too close for friends but too far apart for lovers. Laughing at everything and nothing. Drinking just enough to make the lines blur. You had thought—maybe. Hopefully.
And for a moment, you know, you had been right. It seemed like the kind of night you’d eventually be able to tell your kids about. An edited version, to cut out the once-in-a-lifetime pounding you intended to give her, but still, magical in its own way.
The way she let you kiss her. The way she kissed you back. The way her eyelashes fluttered to pull you into the kiss. How her left thigh rode up yours. The way her fingers locked behind the nape of your neck. The way you told her you liked her.
Then the way she pulled back. The hesitation in her eyes. The way her voice broke when she said “I don’t think we should do this.”
The way a crack formed on your heart, barely being pushed together by the rest of your more logical organs as you forced yourself to nod and agree, to act like it was fine. Like you were fine. Like you hadn’t just managed to secure the right door, only to be forced to step into the wrong one.
And the way your heart formed a second crack when you saw her again. She was still the same. Still Chaewon. Like nothing had happened.
But something did happen to you.
Your phone buzzes.
It’s not easy to ignore. Chaewon is an addiction to you, the next hit of this sweet obsession entering your veins as your screen lights up.
Chaewon: You awake??
You know you should just be failing at sleeping again. This can only lead to misery.
You: Yeah.
It’s quiet for a bit, but a new message makes its way to you all the same.
Chaewon: Cant sleep
If only she knew how she cursed you with the same fate. If not for her you’d be sound asleep in your own bed right now, or even better, in the bed of that chick you met at the club. What did she say her name was again? Kazuha? Instead, you’re here, repeating old patterns with exhausted probability.
You: That sucks.
Your answers are curt. Too perfect with punctuation for your usual back and forth. She doesn’t respond right away. She might be stubborn and annoying about things she’s convinced she’s right about, but she’s never been oblivious.
Then:
Chaewon: Are we okay?
You’re upset, but not heartless. It tugs.
You: We’re fine, Chaewon
Chaewon: Thats not a yes…
You might just scream out of frustration, your phone dropping on your chest, but obviously you can’t. She’d hear. She’s impossible. So fucking stupidly impossible. And yet, you find yourself typing anyway.
You: Do you want me to lie?
The pause is longer this time. Should you feel bad or just so tired that it doesn’t matter anymore?
Chaewon: No
Chaewon: Idk
Chaewon: I just get nervous when ur like this
You: Like what??
Chaewon: Distant
Chaewon: Careful
Chaewon: Upset with me
Your fingers hover over the keyboard without action. She’s not wrong. You are being careful. It’s her fault. She’d break your heart a second time in less time it took for it to beat. That’s dangerous.
You: Idk what you want me to say Chaewon
Chaewon: Idk either…
Chaewon: But I miss how we used to talk
The memories flood in of the two of you just shooting the shit, countless evenings. Still…
You: We’re talking now.
Chaewon: U know thats not what i meant
And she’s right. You do know, but this is just easier. For you, for her. For the both of you.
Chaewon: Cant you just come over here and talk w me?
Chaewon: I miss you…
And before you can even overthink it—
You move.
----------------------------------------
There is a thought that creeps into your mind as the door creaks open and you step into her room. Something about a lion’s den, and then another one following it up about it actually being the lionesses that do the hunting. There’s no point to it. They all fade in an instant. She’s no huntress right now. She’s vulnerable, like prey, enticing you to be the hunter, looking so ready to be pounced on; curled up beneath her blankets, only the soft shape of her against the sheets to lure you in.
“Hey.” It’s a solid way to start a conversation, but you can’t help but expect more from her after calling you in.
You nod, eyes fleeing from hers, shifting awkwardly by the door. “Hey.”
It takes a while before you move. The same goes for her. She’s squinting, her eyes getting used to the darkness. She’s always been stubborn about letting you help her get a blue light filter on her phone.
She finally stops, and for a moment, your eyes meet hers. She carries a soft smile, the kind that made you fall for her in the first place. But there’s a difference in it; barely perceptible; most definitely flown under the radar by people not so obsessed with her face. There’s precaution sewn into it. The sides of her smile are constantly shifting and trembling, like she doesn’t know whether to keep it there or to switch to a more neutral expression. Then, she shifts, her left arm pulling out from under the cover and tapping the sheets next to her, an unspoken invitation.
You sit down with a sigh, back turned towards her. You’re not far, but you’re not close either. A safe distance, you think to yourself. The mood isn’t tense, but also not comfortable. Just… unsure.
You can hear her laps part, exhale, almost say something, and then close again a couple of times. It’s not until you finally turn to face her that she speaks.
“Do you remember that summer at the beach?”
Your eyebrows raise on instinct, disbelief unmistakably painted across your face, impossible not to notice, not even in this darkness. “How could I forget?”
The muscles on her face relax as her eyes drift away from your eyes, seemingly getting lost into her pillow, which she clutches tight. “You remember how you were so worried about me you gave me a piggyback ride back to the house?”
“No,” you scoff, “I remember you guilt tripping me into carrying your soaking wet ass across the sand.” Your face turns away from her again, hands clutching the side of the bed as your eyes veer off into the distance past the window; letting the glass serve as a canvas to project your memories onto.
You hear the sheets rustle behind you as she works herself upright, before reminding you exactly why you helped her back then in the first place. “You weren’t complaining back then! You were way too busy copping a feel of my ass.”
“Okay, now that’s not fair,” you snap back much too fast, much too flustered. “I wasn’t copping a feel, I was keeping you from falling. And besides, you weren’t helping either! Just hanging there all limp, mumbling you’d never be able to walk again.”
“I mean, it just hurt so bad. That jellyfish really fucked me up,” she chuckles back, and you can feel the pressure of her back leaning against yours.
There’s a soft silence, the one drenched in feelings you’d much rather stay in, instead of moving on to an uncomfortable reality. So you keep painting, hoping the window holds your memory-scape just a little longer.
“Do you remember what we kept talking about? To keep your mind off of the pain?”
You can tell she knows in the way she responds with an “Oh my god.”
Both of you say it at the same time.
“The fucking Monty Hall problem!”
There’s a beat of silence. First it’s a chuckle. It turns into laughter, and it quickly grows uncontrolled, unstoppable. The kind that makes the memories seem brighter, makes your body feel lighter, the kind that makes you throw your head back as she does hers. You both open your eyes staring at the roof, now sharing the same canvas to display footage of past days.
“God,” you breathe, your head locked in place but your eyes drifting over towards her face. “I miss those days.”
She giggles, nose scrunching. “I don’t miss what that jellyfish did to me.”
The laughter fades, and you think that maybe, just maybe you could forget about earlier and go to bed without feeling like shit. You shift, and she does too, turning towards her as she moves back to her original spot, leaning against the headrest, crawling underneath the blankets with her legs.
Your breath catches as you look at her. Your stomach turns. “Chaewon.”
She blinks, glancing up at you. “Hmm?”
“Did you—” You inhale sharply, but you can’t afford to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Did you seriously invite me in here just to talk un-dressed like that?”
Her brows furrow. Then she follows your gaze, shifting slightly, and—
Fuck.
Black lace, delicate, thin. Your favorite.
She freezes. "Oh."
Oh? Fucking oh?
“Why the fuck are you like this?” you explode.
Her eyes widen. "No! I—" She scrambles, tugging the blanket back up over herself. “I wasn’t—”
“You said you wanted to talk, Chaewon.”
“I do!” Her voice pitches up. She’s pulling the sheets up hurriedly, using them as a shield from you, all you can see is her cheeks changing color ever so slightly. This time because of the embarrassment instead of the alcohol. “I promise… I do…”
It’s hard to believe that. It’s all so familiar, and all so fucking frustrating. “You know, this is just like you to do,” you ramble, and it’s hard to stop once you get going. “Always so fucking obsessed with getting a reaction out of me, never stopping to think for a second about how I feel!”
Her face softens, and the way she looks at you makes you sick. Like she thinks you’re right. “That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?”
“I swear!” She shouts, looking panicked and it’s enough to finally get you to shut up. “I was still out of it all, too mad and too drunk when I got back here. I just wanted to sleep. I didn’t—” and a big, shallow breath interrupts her, the kind that just appears and leaves you with less air than before. “I wasn’t thinking, okay?”
You want to believe her. But tonight has been too much. Too many provocations, too many lines blurring that she would turn back from, and in turn, you would let form scars.
Then you sigh, sitting back down. “Okay.”
“Are you…” her voice trembles as she tries to figure out the specifics of your answer. “You’re shaking. Are you mad?”
Your mind is still trying to slow down, and answering gets forgotten. She takes that as an answer, obviously. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not so mad that I’d be shaking, you idiot.” Your voice is quiet. “It’s just way too fucking cold in here. And I was thinking.”
There’s no hesitation, because that’s just how Chaewon is as she shifts, making room. “Get under the covers.”
“Chaewon, please—” you start, but she’s not having it.
“I won’t try anything, okay? I promise,” she interrupts you, sounding calmer already. There’s a touch of pleading in it, but not the whiny kind she uses to get you worked up. It’s more desperate, more real. “Just give me a chance to prove I’m being serious.”
You don’t move at first. Stubbornness is inherent to both of you, after all. She tugs on the sheets impatiently. You sigh, but it’s obviously performative, a last jab at her to let her know you’re only doing this just because you’re cold. And she wasn’t lying. She properly keeps her distance, just sharing the warmth of the bed. It’s immediate and comforting, but you don’t allow yourself to sink into it.
“See?” she murmurs. “Not a trap.”
Not yet. You don’t dare say it, but you don’t have to. She sees the thoughts in your eyes. So she shuffles, turning away from you.
The silence stretches so long you start focusing on the noises it can’t beat into submission. Your breathing. Her breathing. The creaking and crumpling sound of the bed and the sheets as you move.
“I wanted to talk, and we talked so… that’s—that’s good. I guess,” she whispers. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind talking some more.” She lets a little space in between for you to insert yourself into. You never do. “But if you’d rather pretend like I’m not here, I get that too. I’ll shut up.”
It’s endearing, and your response is a little mean, letting her wait in silence for just a little longer before replying.
“I’m not pretending. I need somebody to blame the lack of space I have in this bed.”
She smiles, soft. You can’t see it, obviously, but you feel it. Somehow. She shifts under the blanket, closer but not touching. She’s apprehensive. And she meant what she said.
“Is this the first time we’ve slept in the same bed?” she asks, but she masks her tone enough that she could play it off as talking to herself if you decided to not respond.
“Nope,” you correct her. “There was that one time in sophomore year. You showed up at my door at, like, three in the morning. Absolutely shitfaced, mind you.”
She lets out a small, embarrassed groan, and you know you’re on the right track.
“I remember that,” she mumbles. “Barely.”
“You couldn’t figure out how to get to your dorm. Said not even Monty Hall could help you find the right door.”
“How do you remember all that?” Chaewon questions, like you had no right to have that memory.
“Are you kidding me? How could I forget? I told you to take my bed, and that I was gonna crash on the couch,” you continue explaining, your lips curling upwards.
“But I didn’t let you?”
“Nope. You didn’t trust my roommate worth shit. Which, fair.”
She doesn’t say anything. You keep going though, less for her alone or you alone, both for you both.
“You grabbed my wrist when I tried to walk away. Looked me dead in the eye and said, and I quote, ‘Don’t leave me alone with that guy here, he smells like crusty socks and assault.’”
Chaewon lets out a strangled sound that’s half mortified laugh, half groan. “Oh my God.”
“So I gave in. Got in bed next to you. Fully clothed. On top of the covers. Like a gentleman.”
“You didn’t sleep for a second that night, did you?”
“Of course not. You starfished. One arm across my chest, one leg thrown over me like a fucking seatbelt. You had me trapped, dead to rights. Didn’t help you made me paranoid that my roommate was actually going to do something.”
She laughs—really laughs. Warm, unguarded. Then she rolls onto her side, facing you again. Her eyes search yours. "It was easier, wasn’t it? Back then. In college. At the beach. You carrying me like an idiot, me acting like I couldn’t walk, and you trying to turn probability into a personality trait."
You laugh, but it’s not really a laugh. More like one of those nose breaths that accompanies an abbreviated text. “Because it was.”
Her smile fades. “You never needed me to ask. You always just… stayed.”
You shift slightly, your fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. Her eyes drop there, then rise again.
“I think I’m a leaver,” she says. No warning. No lead-in. Like she had to say it fast before she lost the nerve.
“What?” It leaves your mouth before you can even blink.
But Chaewon swallows, her eyes retreating downwards. “I think that’s just who I am. Some people stay, and some people leave. You’re the kind of person that stays, and I’m a person that leaves. Because if I go first, I don’t have to wait until you become a leaver just like me.”
She looks at you like she’s afraid you’ll flinch. Like she’s already bracing for the recoil.
“I know it’s selfish,” she adds quickly. “But that night… when you kissed me, and then said you really liked me—I panicked. I did what I always do. You were giving me a choice, and that scared the hell out of me. So I picked the choice I always make.”
She breathes in. Exhales slow. Really takes her time, her eyes drifting slightly upwards now.
“And for a while, I told myself it was just another fifty-fifty. You know? Just a game of chance I lost. You either leave or get left. You either lose something or end up lost. And I thought—" she breaks off, swallowing again, part of her voice getting swallowed with it, "—that it would go away like the rest. That I’d forget. That it’d stop mattering."
You stay quiet.
“But it didn’t. It stuck. You stuck.”
She shifts again, knee brushing against yours beneath the blanket. Her voice cracks a little.
“And I started noticing things,” she says. "Little things. Like the first time you didn’t wait for me to text goodnight. Or when you were with someone else and you had that smile that I thought was reserved for me. Or when you stopped arguing with me about dumb shit just to keep talking."
Her voice wavers.
“And then I realized I didn’t just pick wrong. I watched the right door shut. And then I heard it lock. And that’s why I know your stupid fucking Monty Hall problem is wrong. I should’ve had another shot. Another choice. But life didn’t open a wrong door—it just took the right one away. And that’s why I know it’s just fifty-fifty. And I lost my coin toss at happiness.”
There’s a second of silence where your brain short circuits.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” you mutter.
She blinks, but it helps her to finally look at you. “Ouch?”
You sit up, tossing the blanket off like it offended you. “No, I’m serious. You think my door shut? You fucking locked it.”
She opens her mouth, but you cut her off, your pace quickening. “The fact that I stayed around all this time is proof enough that my door is still unlocked. It wasn’t up to me to reopen that door.”
“I—”
“But you had to try.”
Chaewon’s eyes flicker—not away, but deeper. Her breath hitches, and you swear it’s the first real sound she’s made in a while that didn’t have a smirk behind it. She shifts forward just slightly, only enough that her leg brushes against yours again, like she’s testing if the signal’s still green.
“You’re saying… it’s still open?”
You drag a hand through your hair, eyes rolling ceilingward before locking onto her again. “It was never fucking closed.”
Her lips part. They’re trembling now. She’s not teasing this time. “Then why—why didn’t you ever—”
“Because I’m not gonna beg,” you cut in, sharper than intended. “I’m not gonna crawl through the fucking keyhole when you slammed the door in my face.”
She flinches. Just barely. But enough.
“I didn’t need you to beg, just…” she says, softer, like she’s going over the math again in her head. “I don’t know… I—” Her voice dips, trails, then steadies. “I’m here now. I’m trying.”
You look at her. Clear as day in the middle of the night. She's curled up next to you, defensive and ashamed and stubborn all at once. Her eyes are too glossy, her hands fidgeting with the edge of the comforter like they’re looking for somewhere to hide.
And then she breathes, and her voice breaks.
“I just wanted you to want me still.”
And that? That fucking cracks something open.
You reach for her—no grand gestures, no cinematic swoop—just firm, necessary motion. You cradle her jaw, fingers sweeping her hair back, and when you speak, it’s low and final and absolutely everything you’ve been holding back.
“I never fucking stopped.”
There’s no pause this time.
No “but what if—”
No “are you sure—”
No more fucking Monty Hall.
Just her lips crashing into yours, messily, hungrily, like the apology she couldn’t say and the forgiveness you weren’t ready to offer have decided to cancel each other out with tongue.
It’s not careful. It’s not gentle.
It’s honest.
She’s on your lap again, only this time it’s not a joke. Her knees bracket your thighs and she grinds down with purpose, gasping when she feels you through your boxers. Her hands slide beneath your shirt, nails catching skin, and you curse under your breath as heat swells in your gut, undeniable and urgent.
You break the kiss, forehead against hers. “Still cold?”
Her laugh is shallow, much too distracted with making sure she can properly share in your body heat. “Yeah. Make me warm.”
“And here I was thinking you were hot enough as is.”
She smirks, and it’s real this time. Like the one you saw when you barely knew her, but knew enough already. Not a mask. Not a trap. Just her.
And she whispers, “Don’t stop this time.”
Like you could. Besides, you’re not even sure it’s only meant for you. With the way she’s tugging and removing your clothes, kissing your shoulders and pulling you tighter, it’s like she’s making up for lost time. For every second spent being careful. Your hands trace her body, taking your time to really make sure every curve and beauty mark is stuck in your mind forever.
“God,” you mumble under your breath, pressing your lips to her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, working your way down until you’re kissing the edge of a black lace bra that was almost the reason you stormed off earlier. “I can’t believe how beautiful you really are.”
Her breath hitches. “I know.”
And you’ve missed that, too. Her confidence. The way she can say things like that without irony, because she knows exactly what she’s worth—she just never thought she’d be worth it to you once more.
You kiss her through the black lace, and she shivers when you nip at the edge of her bra, as close to her nipple as you can get. She doesn’t waste any time herself flicking open the button of your jeans. You’ve always thought she needed a helping hand, both of yours pushing your pants further down. They’re not even off properly when she pauses, eyes blown wide, honing in on the tent in your boxers leaving little to imagination.
“Wow,” she says, and it’s almost weird to hear her say it without sarcasm.
“Wow?” your voice is rough, coming out in a single breath.
She nods, and her lips part as she yanks your boxers down, eyes almost dazed as she takes you in. “Wow.”
It’s a reverent look. It’s a look that suits her as long as it’s directed towards you, you think. Her fingers reach out like she’s about to wrap them around you, but she stops right before she makes contact, and the look in her eyes changes. Smug now. Knowing.
“I need a moment,” she says, and you know she’s up to no good. “You can’t just swing that in a girl's face and expect me to make it easy for you.”
A throb shoots through your cock, hips twitching without your consent. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
But she just smirks.
“Chaewon.”
“Shhh,” she says as she shuts down any and all protest, and her voice is the perfect combination of exasperating and enticing. “I’ve got my own Monty Hall problem lined up for you.”
You groan, but it’s more of a plea for mercy than a protest. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m serious,” she purrs, fingers grazing the base of your cock before pulling back again, making you hiss.
“Three doors,” she says, and the way she looks at you is obscene. “My front door, my back door, and my... ehm... mouth door?”
You’re gone. You’re fucking gone. “You are so lucky you're fucking hot.”
She keeps going, relentless. Her grin is pure mischief. “Which one have I imagined you fucking me with the most?” She rolls her hips, testing you. “Pick right, and you get to fuck it.”
“And if I guess wrong?” Your voice is rough, needy, everything you never let her hear before tonight.
Her eyes burn. “Then you eat me out first.”
It’s a rigged game and you both know it, but you play along anyway, letting her set the rules and stack the deck and deal each card. You lean forward, drag your lips up the line of her jaw. “That’s an impossible choice. You want all of them.”
She moans, a hiccup of laughter and want, and the weight of her shifts in your lap, urgent. “You wish. You only get one.”
But her hips are grinding now, a rolling, deliberate pressure that tells you exactly what her body needs. The answer is and always has been: every option, at once, and all of them leading back to you.
You palm her ass, fingers splaying underneath the lace edge, and the way she shivers tells you she wasn’t expecting you to touch her with that kind of certainty. For all her bravado and gamesmanship, this is how you win: you move first, and you don’t hesitate.
“Let’s see,” you murmur, mouth against the shell of her ear, making her gasp. “Back door—” a squeeze, a knead that pulls a little yelp from her, “—doesn’t seem like your style. At least not as a first move.”
“Don’t count me out,” she breathes, and you hear the competitive edge in her voice, the same edge that made her stay up all night just to prove you wrong about some irrelevant, beautiful, dumb thing.
You laugh, slow and low, and she shakes against you. “Mouth door,” you say, and you can’t help but grin at the way she’s already licking her lips, hungry, needing to prove something. “Obvious contender. But I think you want it right here.” Your hand finds the heat between her legs, cups her through those ridiculous panties, and her eyes go wide, her breath gone.
You wait a beat. She’s never been great at waiting, but she’s trembling now, lips parted, waiting for your verdict.
“And if I told you it’s definitely not the back door? Does your answer change?” she pants.
You consider your odds. “I think—” you start, but she interrupts.
“Actually,” she says, and the way her voice drips with satisfaction is almost enough to make you lose. “I don’t give a fuck. I want your cock. Right here.”
She grinds against you, and you can’t help but think you’re never spending another day without that feeling.
“Fuck,” you groan, because she won this round, and she knows it. “You don’t play fair.”
She bites her lip, smiling, then reaches between you, fingers wrapping around you with a perfect, firm pressure. “And that’s why you love me.”
She’s right. She’s wrong about so many fucking things, but she’s right about this.
You thrust up into her hand, and she moans, her body arching, her hair falling down her back. You reach for her hips, hooking your thumbs under the lace, and she lifts herself up, letting you pull it down, off, away. She doesn’t care where it lands; she’s already lowering herself back onto you, and you’re closing the distance, guiding your cock to her needy cunt.
“Fuck you,” you breathe, so close to her you can taste it, the subtext of admission against her skin. “I’m not saying it first. I’ll force you to.”
She rocks her hips, taking you deeper, her breath catching with a shudder. “Yeah? You think you can make me?”
You grit your teeth, the friction of her tight around you making it almost impossible to think. “I know I can.”
“Big words,” she gasps, riding you faster, harder. “Think you can back them up?”
You reach between you, your thumb finding her clit, and she cries out, her whole body shaking, her walls clenching around you. “You first,” you growl, and you can tell she’s sensitive. “Say it.”
Her eyes roll back, her lower lip caught between her teeth. You know it, you have her dead to rights, this is your win, and then—”Nuh-uh.”
You thrust up into her, relentless, and the pressure builds, mounting, and she’s so fucking tight around you, and you want her to say it, need her to say it.
She grinds down harder, her nails dragging your shoulder blades, and it’s too much. Too good. Too fucking hot. “You’re gonna say it,” you gasp, your thumb circling her clit faster. “I know you.”
“And I know you,” she pants, her head falling back as she rides you with abandon, her whole body trembling, her breath hitching with every thrust. “I know—oh fuck—you.”
You watch her face as she rocks against you, her lips parting, her eyes wide and desperate and defiant. She’s so close. So close you can feel it, the way she’s fighting it, wanting to hold out, wanting to win.
“Say it,” you growl, thrusting up into her again, harder, not easing up on her clit.
She gasps, and this has to be it. She’s trembling, tightening, drowning in ecstasy and she’s— “I’m—Fuck, I’m cumming, you fucker,” she manages to choke out, and she cums hard. Her head drops forward, no further admission, still no winner as her whole body shudders, her walls clenching around you like she’s weaponizing her orgasm against you, trying to pull the words from you.
You swear, a rough sound that’s almost a surrender, and she laughs, breathless, smug, still shaking in your lap. “You first.”
Your grip tightens on her hips, and you’re so fucking close, but you hold on, hold out, your breath ragged. “I’m not going to give up,” you groan, thrusting up into her in a wild frenzy, loud clapping of flesh colliding now strangling the room. She lets out a strangled sound, and her eyes go wide letting you know she didn’t expect this.
Didn’t expect you to only go harder, to keep fucking her through her orgasm, keep pushing her over the edge again and again and again until she might pass out. You thrust harder, deeper, and her voice breaks, her body wild against yours.
You hold on, and she holds on longer. She’s so tight, so wet, and the heat is building, and you feel her clench around you, feel her mold to your shape. Her mouth opens, and you can’t tell if she’s about to say it or if she’s too far gone, and then—
She pulls off of you. You watch, stunned, as she drops to her knees and wraps her mouth around your cock, and the sight alone is enough to make you lose it. You groan, a deep, ragged sound, and she moans around you, the vibration pushing you over the edge. Your hands tangle in her hair as you come, hot and hard, spilling ropes of cum into her mouth.
“Fuck, Chaewon,” you choke out, the last of your breath leaving your body as every drop of cum you had does the same, her lips still tight around you.
Then she pulls back, and her eyes are on you, wide and bright and triumphant. She cups a hand beneath her chin, opens her mouth, and—
“I love you,” she says, letting your cum spill out over her lips, and there’s a laugh behind it, a tremor of amusement, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. Like she knows she just won all over again. She wipes her mouth, cum streaking her chin, her neck, her chest, and she looks so absurdly beautiful you can’t even be mad.
“Chaewon,” you breathe. It’s exasperation and wonder, the way you’ve said her name so many times before. “You’re fucking impossible.”
“Really?” She bats her lashes with a coy look, licking her lips like she’s savoring every last drop of the chaos she’s caused. “Aren’t you supposed to say it back?”
You grab her by the waist, pulling her back up to straddle you past your softened cock, and she giggles, squirming in your lap. “You’re such a fucking brat.”
“And you can’t get enough of it,” she teases, her smile widening,
You stare at her, chest heaving, the words settling into the spaces that were empty for so long. Then you let out a breathless, helpless laugh, pulling her face up to yours, kissing her despite all the filth she let drip out to cover her sweetness.
“Fuck you,” you say between kisses, but there’s no heat behind it, just the weight of relief and joy and everything else you’ve been holding back. “How do you win even when you lose?”
She smiles against your mouth, and you feel it in every part of you. “I guess I’m just smarter than you.”
You do. You say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like you’ve spent the last year waiting for your chance.
“I love you, you idiot.”
She makes a soft sound, and for a second you think she might cry, but it’s just a laugh, bright and giddy and so fucking happy. “I’m glad you do.”
“You’re a fucking nightmare,” you say as you shake your head, trying to hide the cartoonishly large smile she forced upon your face.
“And you’re stuck with me,” she says, kissing you again, her body melting into yours, all softness and satisfaction. Her voice dips, teasing, warm. “Or did you forget?”
“Never,” you murmur, and you mean it. Hell, you’d bet on it.
Her body shifts in response, her being melting into you, her skin sticky but hot against yours. “So,” she says, and it’s light and breezy like that summer day still stuck in your memory, like you’re somehow back in a familiar rhythm, but new nonetheless. “You really think you can handle me?”
You laugh, wrapping your arms around her. “I’ve been handling you for years without the benefit of getting to fuck you.”
She pinches your side, but it’s playful, and you can tell she’s trying not to smile. “Asshole.”
“Yeah,” you say, kissing her forehead. “But I’m your asshole, now.”
She nods, and that alone was worth all the suffering. Because it’s honest.
“Shit,” Chaewon breathes, your skin stuck together with dried cum, pulling loose from you. “We’re a fucking mess.”
“Yeah, well, it’s your fault for trying to be funny,” you say like you’re not covered in it too.
She shakes her head, and it’s like she’s saying it’s your fault for not being the first to say you love her. “We can’t go to bed like this,” she proclaims, trying her best not to get too much filth on her sheets. “C’mon. Shower.”
“Together?” you ask, and she just rolls her eyes like that was the stupidest fucking question you’ve ever asked.
You follow her to the bathroom, the air chilly and the tile cool underfoot. She turns on the water of her shower, letting it heat up as she looks back over at you, one eyebrow lifting like she’s pondering if she should just keep it to showering or not.
“Get in,” she says, pushing you towards the shower. “I’m not letting you sleep until you’re clean.”
She’s already stepping toward the shower when she realizes you’re still standing there. Her eyes narrow, but her lips curve. “What? You’re dawdling now?”
You shrug, and she laughs. It’s not the sound she makes when she’s trying to get under your skin, but the one you’d almost forgotten she could make. Uncomplicated. Real.
She starts taking off the only thing she still has on—her thigh high socks that were the main culprit in why you failed to pick up a girl earlier tonight. You were way too busy admiring how good Chaewon looked, and it didn’t go unnoticed.
“Don’t tell me you’re expecting me to do it for—”
You catch her hand, stop her from peeling them off. She freezes, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.
“Let’s pretend I lost your three doors challenge,” you murmur, and you hear her breath catch. “It’d be a shame not to eat you out with how good you look in those.”
“So you were staring! I fucking knew it,” she shouts gleefully.
You don’t give it a response. You just hoist her up, and she wraps her legs around you like it’s instinct, gasping, more eager than surprised, as you let her ass meet the bathroom counter. You spread her thighs open to admire, sink to your knees in between them, and look up, getting lost in the way she looks down.
“Oh my god,” she sighs out. “Are you really—”
You don’t let her finish. You drag your tongue up her slit, and her head falls back, the sound of the shower almost drowning out her moan. Almost, but not quite.
“Fuck,” she gasps, the first of many. “Right there. Oh, right—”
You swirl your tongue around her clit, and her hips buck, her whole body trembling. She’s close already, too close, and you know you could end this in seconds, but you don’t. Not yet.
Your hand slides up her thigh, and she shudders as you press a finger against her asshole, teasing, gentle. Her breath catches, and you feel her body tense, then relax, opening for you.
“Shit,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”
You don’t stop. You don’t even slow down. You work her with your tongue and your fingers and your everything, and she’s shaking.
“Holy fuck,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “You’re—shit—you’re better at this than explaining math problems.”
You groan, a low, rough sound, and the vibration makes her shudder. “Careful, I might bite.”
She laughs, knowing you’re all bark, and her fingers tangle in your hair, not quite pulling you closer, but not allowing escape either. “Don’t stop,” she begs, and she wears it so well that ideas flood your mind. “I’m so fucking close.”
feel her body tense, tight and perfect around you. “Right there. Oh—” You curl your finger, the final bit of tension she needed to release, clenching hard, her hands in your hair, her body on fire. “Oh God, oh—”
She cums hard, her body arching, her legs closing around your head as she cries out, the sound raw and desperate and so fucking good. Your finger slips out but keep your mouth on her, not letting up until she’s shuddering, breathless, her hands tensed up tugging at you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she gasps, and you feel the last tremors of her orgasm as they ripple through her. “How did you—I can’t—” She’s lost for words, and it’s ammunition for next time you fight over something stupid.
You don’t move until she tugs at you weakly, pulling you up, and the look in her eyes is almost enough to make you drop to your knees again.
You grab her hand, pulling her toward the shower, but she doesn’t budge. Instead, she drops to her knees, fingers splayed on your thighs. “I’ll admit, you’re pretty fucking good,” she says, her eyes gleaming with challenge. Everything’s a competition with this girl. “But I’m better.”
You don’t have time to respond. Her mouth is on you, hot and wet and perfect, and you groan, your head falling back. She works you with a skill you didn’t think she had, her tongue swirling, her lips tight, and all you can do is hold on.
She pulls back, and the sudden loss makes you gasp. “Feel free to cum wherever you want,” she muses, and your mind floods with options. All too enticing.
Her pace is relentless, precise, and you feel her smile around you, a smug curve against your skin. She’s rapidly proving her point.
“Chaewon,” you groan, and you’re not sure if you’re leading into begging or commanding. “Fuck, that feels—”
She hums, a low, teasing sound, and the vibration makes you curse. Her fingers slide down, cupping your balls, and you feel yourself throb against her tongue.
You’re close, too close, and she knows it. You can tell by the way she pulls back again, her lips glistening, her eyes wild. “I’m not done with you,” she says, and you swear you might die.
“Fuck my face,” she says, and you tremble, your whole body going tight.
“Chaewon,” you gasp, but she’s already got you begging for more, her hands on your thighs, guiding you inside.
You thrust, and she takes it, takes you, her mouth so fucking good you can’t believe this is real. She moans and gags around you, and it’s a sound you’ll hear in your dreams for the rest of your life.
She looks up, her mouth full, and the sight is obscene, incredible. She’s not stopping, not giving you a second to catch your breath, just letting you use her, and it’s all too fucking much.
You’re so close, the heat building, your control slipping. You fuck her face, your hands tight in her hair, and she’s caught between you and the counter, letting you use her, letting you lose yourself.
“Oh God, Chaewon,” you groan, your thrusts erratic, desperate. “I’m gonna—”
She pulls back, and you gasp, her lips getting pressed against the tip of your dick. She strokes you, her lips swollen and wet, and—
“Do it,” she commands, tilting her head back, presenting her face and her tits and her abs and every target you could choose, her eyes pleading to cover not one but all. “Come all over me.”
That’s it. That’s fucking it. You cum hard, your whole body tensing, and she moans as your release hits her face, her lips, her cheek, her chest.
“Fuck,” you groan, and she smiles, licking her lips, and you’re so spent you almost collapse right there.
Then she’s pulling you down, kissing you, and you taste yourself on her tongue.
“At least I was worth the wait, right?” she murmurs, and you pull back just far enough to see the way she’s grinning, the way she’s looking at you like she thinks she won. If only she saw herself right now, you’re clearly the winner.
“Think I’m ready for that shower now,” you say, and you can’t help but smile back, because you’re a mess, and she’s a mess, and you came into this room specifically to be less of a mess; and you love it. You love her.
The water is still running, heating up the room, and you both stand up. She pulls you with her, and the water makes quick work of the art you just made. What a waste, but a waste you love to spend with her.
She notices your face change as the cum disappears from her visage, and chuckles lightly. “You’ll get plenty of other chances.”
You wash her and she washes you back, and it’s slow and easy and comfortable. Like you never thought it could be again. But better. No rush, no desperation. She works the shampoo into your hair, but you can’t stand to not annoy her for another second, pulling her under the spray and rinsing her off.
“Hey,” she protests, but she’s smiling, her eyes bright.
“Hey yourself,” you say, dragging your thumb across her cheek, her lips, her collarbone. “Think I like you like this.”
“Wet?” she asks, and she’s teasing, but there’s a softness behind it.
“That too. But no. Mine,” you say, and her expression shifts, her eyes going soft, her hands coming to rest on your chest.
“You know,” she says, her voice quiet, thoughtful, “That makes you equally mine.”
You tilt her chin up, kissing her, and she melts into it, into you. “I guess that means we both won today.”
She laughs, and it’s the best sound, the best feeling, the best everything. “Guess I can get used to it if it’s with you.”
Eventually you turn off the tap, and she shivers as you wrap her in a towel, pulling her close. “Bed?” you ask, and she nods, simple and easy.
She helps you dry off, and you help her, and you just can’t let each other be right now. She tugs at you, at your hand, constantly leading you, hair still wild and just damp enough to be okay going to bed with. She slips beneath the covers fully naked, but it’s too cold to worry about any of that, so you follow.
You pull her against you, or she pushes herself into you. It’s hard to tell who’s more desperate. Point is, her back is against your chest, and it fits perfectly. Like she was made for it.
“So,” she says, her voice a sleepy mumble, “are you gonna lose your shit if I say it’s fifty-fifty again?”
You groan, exasperated and affectionate, and she giggles, burying her face in your neck.
“Chaewon,” you say, and she turns just enough to look at you.
“Hmm?”
You wrap your arms around her, holding her, holding everything. “You’re fucking annoying. Never change.”
She smiles, soft and genuine, and you know this is the real win. Not the game, not the challenge, not the give and take of a thousand heated mathematical arguments—but this. Her. You. Together.
“Promise,” she whispers, and you feel her breath slow, feel her body relax, feel the unlikeliest odds settle in your favor.
You hold her tighter, and the silence this time is comfortable, a weightless, blissful quiet that lulls you both toward sleep. You barely hear her next words, but they seep into you, the last sweet, stubborn thing you need to know.
Genre: smut
Category: (First Person) male reader x IU
Word Count: 2k+
A/N: Halo! As maybe some of y'all expected I am also on fanprose. But anyway; IU FIC! I am REALLY HAPPY with this creation, PLEASE ENJOY AND LEAVE COMMENT FOR THE FEEDBACK 🥰.
====================================
“Hey, Ryo, what’s your story?” friend #1 asks.
“So, I met up with IU right, in—”
“Wait, wait, how in the freak do you get in contact with Lee Jieun? That IU?” friend #2 asks.
“Do you guys want to hear how I get to know IU or do you guys wanna let me continue?”
“Both” friend #1 and #2 says simultaneously.
“No.”
“HA! I knew it, this is just one of your fantasies right? There is no way a guy like you could be on par with someone like IU.”
“tsk Ya whatever, anyway like i was saying—”
Just then, me and my friends get interrupted by a far too familiar appearance.
“What are you doing?” Jieun asks.
“Oh, hi Jieun, I was just hanging out with my friends, say hi guys.” I am fucked, aren’t I?
“OH MY GOD, you are actually IU! Oh can we get an autograph?” Friend #2 asks, seems like he doesn’t realize what situation we are in right now.
Jieun ignores them and goes, “We are leaving. Now.” Then she just walks towards the exit into the parking lot.
“Damn, she's cold.” Friend #1 respond. I guess he is flabbergasted by the sudden surprise visit from Jieun.
“Yeah, she's probably going to kill me after this, I gotta go alright guys, maybe I’ll finish the story next time.” I left as soon as I said it, and I am pretty sure both of them are still in awe because now they start to really doubt their beliefs about me. HAHAHAHA.
Alright. We began on one fateful night, me and Lee Jieun walked inside one of the grand hotels in the area after her schedule. You know that yellow dress she wore in the drama? Yep, she had them for this special night.
So me and Jieun, we got inside the booked room right, and well it was not so easy to tell when it came to Jieun on what she wanted to do based on facial expression and body language alone. She was just like in the movie, stoic, like the kind of ice cold princess persona.
“So, would you like some drinks first?” I was talking like I was her servants, heck maybe I WAS her servants for the night, well could be worse.
“Give me that wine.” She pointed at my bag. Yes i carried a wine, she told me to do so.
Opening and serving the drink for her. Surprisingly she was quite a heavy drinker. She lets out a big sigh after gulping her first glass, like she just released a big chain that was on her back for the entire week or something.
I remembered we didn’t talk much, I did prepare some dinner for the both of us. She said the food I cooked tasted nice, but she said it with little to no emotion, so I couldn’t really get if she likes likes it or just saying it for the sake of saying it.
We finished eating, not talking much right, STILL it felt awkward in a way. Now I was quite inexperienced just to let it be clear, but I KNOW it wasn’t supposed to be this awkward silence. I was putting away the dirty container right, Jieun wanted to take a shower she said and went ahead, and I was like “Okay.” I don’t put much thought on it.
After I put away our bento and got myself ready to take a shower as well, I saw Jieun walked out of the shower room, still only wrapped in towel, and I can see her sexy legs her pale white and sexy thighs, not to mention the water drip on her upper body makes her tits and face shining, it just all adds up. She looked at me for a second, I was already shirtless by the way, then she just looked away and went to bed.
I took a quick shower since I already cleaned myself thoroughly for the preparation of tonight. Y’all I am not kidding, when I went out of the shower room, I saw Jieun LITERALLY masturbating on the bed.
Back in the bedroom, I saw Jieun on the bed with two fingers deep in her pussy. I was sure I wasn’t in the shower long but Jieun really pumped those fingers in and out of her pussy with a speed like she wanted to get it done soon.
Of course, she didn’t notice me, she was so focused on getting herself off. But something caught me by surprise was she moaned MY NAME.
Changing and mixing the rhythm of her finger fuck in herself. She also played with her perky tits, squeezing and pinching her nipples. I could clearly see her nipples got hardened by the second while she kept up her fingering in her pussy.
Sure enough, not long after, she came, squirting and wetting the bedsheet a little. I thought it was really hot. A woman with such a cold demeanor like her, hid such shameful behaviour, well well, that night I was sure to make her face every embarrassing moment we could make. Starting with her jolted reaction, seeing me stare at her after she came down from her high.
“What, since when did you—”
“I watched the whole thing, including the time you moan my name,” I said moving and leaned closer to her.
Her face instantly turned red, she tried to cover herself with a blanket but I stopped her hand.
“Tonight just got really interesting”
I cupped her face, leaned down and tried to kiss her, but immediately she turned her face away. I guessed she was still too shy that she got caught red-handed by me, masturbating to me.
Still maintaining her cold persona, yet no actual rejection, thus I continue. Started by kissing her cheek slowly, then moving around her jawline before going to the crock of her neck. I lightly sucked parts of her neck to leave a mark on her neck, a reminder of a secret discovered tonight.
“Awh, what are you doing? Don’t—” she said weakly. Jieun did not resist, instead her hands grabbed my head and pushed my head further towards her shoulder.
Using the moment as a sign of willingness, with lick and kisses I trailed a path from her neck down to her shoulder. Then, using my hands I grabbed her arm, lifted it up and pinned it above her head to the bed to expose the smooth and beautiful view of her armpit.
With both excitement and lust coursing through me, I chose to take my time appreciating this beautiful view in front of me. I leaned closer, put my face right up at her armpit and started sniffing at it. The scent from a combination of her perfume and sweat just hit the back of my nostril, and it flipped the feral switch inside me.
I put out my tongue and started licking every detail of her armpit, covering every part of that smooth skin with a trail of saliva right on top. It was so good, it was so nice. I lapped around her armpit while switching between licking and sniffing her armpit. I collected every trace of her sweat from her touching session earlier, leaving only my drool on her underarm before taking a glance at her.
“I didn’t know you have that kind of fetish,” she quipped.
I saw her giggling while throwing that comment at me, “do you like it?” I replied only to be met by her turning her face away from me again.
After indulging myself in her musk and sweat from her pits, I moved downward towards her tits. Squeezing it, I feel how soft and perky it is. I felt pity for those who could only ever see her in a tight dress or when she exposed her cleavage a little. I went on to nibble at her hardened nipple and swirl my tongue around it, which also elicits a moan from Jieun.
Switching between her right and left tits sucking on it, and at times gently biting on it as if hoping that something may come out of it. I did a couple of times until eventually I left a mark of my teeth on her areola.
“I hope I am doing as expectation, my princess”
“Hmph” Jieun still threw her face away as if ignoring me and dismissed me, but I saw a smile on her face.
Done with her tits, I trailed downwards again past her tummy to her pussy and thighs. Jieun immediately covered her pussy with her hands while simultaneously closing her legs together.
“Trust me,” I said calmly.
With that, I gently open her legs. I didn’t go straight to her pussy, but instead I started by kissing her knee, then trailing a path to her thighs. While slowly opening up her legs, I dived myself into her smooth and voluptuous thighs. I lick and munch on that white meaty skin that perhaps made Jieun ticklish that she started to close her legs every so often that forced me to use my hands to keep her legs apart.
“Augh, baby, please, my pussy…” she pleaded.
As soon as she said those words, I went straight to her folds. I can feel the intense heat coming out of her pussy, and I could see some trickle of her juice coating parts of the entrance of her pussy. She was so wet at that time that the only thing that crossed my mind was to suck that pussy and drink all of her juice.
“Babe, please, eat me up, please” she muttered.
That was surprising to her coming from Jieun after she ignored me from the start, but nonetheless, I complied, happily. My mouth to her clit, hardly sucking it which makes Jieun moan with a loud groan in response. Besides her clit, I make sure to put good use of my tongue lapping around her pussy mouth before plunging it inside her. Jieun was so wet that my tongue easily went in and out of her pussy, tongue fucking her until she is close.
“Ahh, Yes, Keep going, Keep Going, please, I am gonna cum, please”
Hearing those words made me put more effort in making her climax. While I tongue fuck her with occasional clit sucking, I was also pressing my hand to her chest and kneading on it. It didn’t take long after such stimulation that she reached another climax.
Her legs trembling, her juices flowing out like waterworks, and I just slurped it all up like a thirsty man.
Finished with the foreplay, I took my time to have her and me to catch some breath. I went ahead for another attempt at kissing her. This time though, she accepted it. I guess she was just too tired to care about her persona, but that’s a win in my book. For the first time tonight, I finally felt a genuine connection. Our lips met in a slow passionate kiss that provided temporary relief after an intense session we just had.
When I pulled back from the kiss, I parted her legs once more, aligning my throbbing hard cock to her soaked entrance. “I am putting in now,” I told her.
As I put my penis inside her, she responded with a small groan as I penetrated her insides slowly. My penis slid in easily because of how wet she was already. I pushed further until my tip reached deep inside her as I felt I hit the entrance of her womb.
“Yes, keep going,” Jieun managed to utter between her heavy breaths.
With audible confirmation, I proceeded to pump her in and out of her pussy, slowly at first then gradually up the pace. Everytime I hit her cervix I could hear her louder moan. It was not long until Jieun reached another orgasm, just only after a few deep and fast thrusts by me.
The sound she made when she reached her orgasm after getting her pussy fucked, it did bring another level of pleassure to my ear. With that, out of the way, I didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath before once again I fucked her.
This time however, it is time for me to have my release. This time I pumped her hard and fast right from the beginning, and tried to get her close to climax as soon as possible. This time because of how sensitive she has become after her climax previously, her pussy was choking my cock. It felt so freaking hot and wet that made me closer to my limit.
“Ah, Ryo, I am close…” she cried out.
Placing my hands on her frame, pinned it to the mattress as I responded “I am close as well, I am going to finish inside. Jieun, please tell me you are safe.”
A smile appeared on her face, probably the first time since the start of this night. “I’m not safe,” she said through ragged breath and moans. “But don’t you dare pull out,” Jieun then wrapped her legs around my waist, locking me inside her.
With that said, my mind went wild, no more thoughts, just the pure lust to fill her with cum. No more holding back, she wanted this, WE wanted this. I threw away the tempo, thrusting deep inside her, poking at her cervix until I heard her moans mixed with her constant gasping for air.
“Cum inside me, please, cum inside me!” she screamed.
And with that, I slammed my full length inside her and I let go. I filled her womb with thick and warm cum. Jieun reached her orgasm alongside me, her walls milking every single drop out of my balls, and her lower body trembled feeling the warm sensation pooling inside her.
After that session, we laid in bed, just relaxed, feeling that post orgasm clarity.
“So, uh, Jieun, do you think we can do this again?”
Jieun didn’t answer immediately, then she said “only if you can give me another load tonight.” She faced away from me when she said that, but that really got my brain short circuited, and my cock hard again in no time.
Tonight, shall be a story untold.
======================================
A/N: This is probably my best creation in terms of smut writing so far. I hope I can be more efficient and create better story in the future. Thank you for reading.
A/N: orenjideul! i'm back with some mayhaps kinda late kyujin birthday fic! this is something different from before and i hope you just enjoy reading this!
--------------------------------------
--------------------------------------
So, here’s the situation: Kyujin needs you to come to her place and it’s urgent, for reasons undefined, yet.
Exactly half an hour ago, you’re just minding your business with the plethora of groceries in your cart when your phone vibrates and sees her name and that text that makes you exhilarated all of a sudden.
jangkyukyu at 16:51 - “please come over, daddy”
jangkyukyu at 16:51 - “i have a surprise for you ;)”
Just with her messages alone, rekindles something familiar within you, and it’s just going to go downhill from there.
Kyujin knows her grip onto you every damn time she messages you something inviting or suggestive like this—you’re fathomably predictable, and she knows that you can’t resist her no matter what you do.
You love her too much and the feelings are mutual, but whatever she’s hinting at is something you’re always excited about, as the anticipation clearly gets ahead of you.
But right now, you're here, and you clearly don’t need to anticipate anymore, because that headspace was minutes and minutes ago.
It’s also the fact that you can sense her in front of you, head into the game as you could just imagine what she has in store for you, and what she looks like outside your frustrating blindfold.
The hindrance falls short and results in a halt, as her faint voice calls you.
“Take it off now, daddy.” So you did, and you’re flabbergasted.
The sight alone is immaculate, the epitome of perfection as Kyujin was at the top of the game—your eyes immediately land towards her figure, and oh it’s so sinful down to every inch.
She flaunts her full body in display for you and god, that tent in your boxers is aching to be released.
You sit back and gawk over every inch and every element is just right: those cat-ears headbands firmly tucked behind her hair, the white lingerie over her that perfect accentuates her slender figure (not to mention the straps over her midriff too, diabolically hot), those white stockings that just fits perfectly on her thighs, bright-colored stiletto heels, that cat-tail buttplug that she’s been dying to wear ever since she mentioned it weeks ago and the best part of the shot, that damn collar her neck that’s pretty slim to be called as one.
Genuinely, this is the most seductive and the hottest sight your eyes have laid upon and you’re savoring every second, incredibly in awe of how perfect Kyujin could be.
“I guess you love it, daddy—been looking at me for some while now.”
“Yes I fucking do, Kyujin.” You keep yourself seated, as Kyujin walks closer to you, getting herself comfortable for the position she will do.
“You do, daddy?”
“Yes, god—you’re actually the prettiest girl on this planet I swear.” Your words make Kyujin blush, a smile curling up your face as you support her legs once she straddles you, and at your end, you need her so much that you’re ultimately and instinctively greedy, hands roaming around where her weakness is.
“Did this for you—need to kiss you now, daddy.”
She doesn’t need to ask because you’re ahead and she’s clearly insatiable enough for you to advance towards the unthinkable. You pull Kyujin into a deep kiss, not that passionate and sloppy as you immediately find your lips pecking the pristine skin of her neck, suckling on it as your hands roam around her soft, scrumptious ass which makes her moan softly, wanton-filled.
“Daddy…” She averts her attention towards the growing tent between your thighs, her hands skating around your clothed chest as she unbuttons your top precisely. “Kiss me more—want to feel how great you kiss me.”
“Yeah, don’t worry, Kyujin.” You’re grasping her ass with a firm grip as you continue your worshipping advances, peppering her shoulders then her lips with pecks that show how much you yearn for her. “I’ll probably kiss you until my lips go numb.”
And you just continue to do what you’re best at, and Kyujin’s that good girl, taking everything incredibly well.
Her hands continue her advances towards your chest as she moans out your name whenever you kiss the vicinity of her neck, and it’s such a cute sight to see such a sinful Kyujin be reduced into a whimpering, adorable mess under your control. She’s so small that you could probably carry her right now and pin her against the bed to continue what’s clouding your mind but no, you really want to appreciate every inch of hers and your lips are fulfilling that wish.
“God, daddy.” Her lips are quivering, eliciting dying moans of need as your lips finds her porcelain skin repeatedly, suckling onto the succulence as you can feel the familiar wetness seeping onto her crotch (it doesn’t help that her lingerie is brightly-colored that you can already see how wet she is becoming). “I n-need something from you—ohh…”
That piques your interest, all ears on what Kyujin might propose to you. “Go ahead, Kyujin—we have all day here.”
“Need to f-feel you badly, daddy. Need it so bad…” You know what she’s referring to as the growing tent in your pants grows harder, and you’re dying to just take it off and fuck her into incoherence but you play along, wanting her to learn patience despite your growing insatiability to her.
“Need what, specifically, hm? Speak up, darling.” Kyujin whines as she keeps grinding onto you, and it’s euphoric on how great her hips move against you. You support her straddling figure with her hands on her plump cheeks still, feeling her tiny frame be a mere weight against you as you marvel with her growing need, evident with those glistening eyes of lust from hers.
“Daddy—need your cock badly. I need to t-taste it, please—fuck…” Her pleading continuously like this is just your hidden guilty pleasure, and her bane. But ultimately, you want to test the waters down below before diving in, and you have specific thoughts in your mind that need execution.
“I would want that, darling, but—” There’s that pronoun she hates to hear, a condition she’ll be fulfilling for you because she’s always that good girl for you, and you love that from her. “—I need to do something for you first.”
Kyujin raises an eyebrow, anticipating what you may do as she keeps her eyes in contact with yours. “What is it, da—oh! Oh my fucking god, daddy.”
Her eloquence is short-lived when your fingers roam around her dripping cunt, evidently wet against the beautiful fabric of her panties.
She chokes, cries for you but the constant dexterity sends her into submission, as she’s enervated to move anywhere but her hips.
“Kyujin.” You remind her, prompting her to something she would always comply with. “Stay steady and let me finger your cunt.”
She smiles right after, all ears for you as she relaxes herself, putting her hands on your shoulders and listening to whatever you command her. She eases up her body as she takes your fingers inside her constricting cunt, moaning wantonly as you assess the state she’s in right now, and she’s giving in slowly and you can sense.
“God, darling—how are you this fucking wet already? It’s just my fingers, oh my god.” You marvel with the unfathomable drench below her tight tummy, her slit leaking on your fingers as you keep thrusting in her, pushing her onto the edge and even flicking her clit as the cherry on top. “You really yearn for my cock, do you?”
The fabric is a mere distraction on your fingers, not when it’s set aside to the point where it almost tears it all up and you can’t just hide the fact that you want her badly, that you’re testing her limits and what she can take all thanks to you.
Also, your questions towards Kyujin is a no-brainer, as she’s as straightforward as she can get.
“I need it, daddy.” Her head hangs inches away from your face, as you kiss her earlobe just to amplify the gratification she’s feeling. “More than anything, please…”
That plea of hers makes you twitch on your trousers and god, she is definitely testing you and inviting you to just give her what she wants.
But then, good girls obey orders, and she ultimately is one.
“Darling, I need you to do something for me first.” You’re finger repetitively fingerfucking her to the fullest, feeling rivulets drenching your digits as she stares at you with carnal need, anticipating what you may say.
“Daddy—fuck, w-what is it?”
You’re pace is rapid and you know how sensitive and close she is, and you know she can’t hold it anymore. “Cum for me, my precious kitty—cum for daddy.”
She doesn’t flinch, nor a single respite as she undergoes her own elation—it was quick from her but you didn’t care, you need to make her feel special in every second you serve her.
But right now, you’re too frustrated to do that because of the growing monster beneath your pants (rawr: in your headspace).
You know how this goes and Kyujin’s bright mind, still a little clouded with her orgasm, knows what to do, so she gets off her position and gets on her knees.
God, she looks great when she’s vulnerable and submissive like this.
“Fuck—you’re good at that, darling.” She really is, as she’s that one-in-a-million girl whose talent you’ll appreciate and never let go. Her hands unbuckle the strap and so are the other garments, undressed swiftly and with precision.
It’s just the last bit of defense against her grand prize, and her profound movements give you a gist on what she’s up to—she’s teasing you near your boiling point, and she’s fiddling onto that limit of yours.
You fucking need to feel her mouth now and she can sense it with the way you’re refusing to look at her, feeling the pleasure even without her hands onto the main event yet.
Thankfully, the frustrating restraints are off and god, she looks splendid with a cock near her mouth—genuinely pornographic yet encapsulated with such beauty no one can ever match.
“Fucking hell, Kyujin.” You whisper and she already knows your weak spots and that’s lethal enough for you to handle. You love the thrill and the will to combat the pleasure with your own semblance of control, even if it’s crumbling down to submission or in its all-time strength, you will find authority.
You’re determined to be one because Kyujin wants that, and you’re not disappointing her.
But seriously, it’s only been at least fifteen seconds of her mouth meeting your tip and you’re practically shaking in pleasure.
You still feign your authority, even though the defenses in you slowly crumble.
“Am I doing good, daddy?” You know Kyujin is just asking that to seek validation, intents in the likes of rhetoricism.
But you have tricks in your sleeve to paint that certain expression of hers that you like her to tease with.
“No.” She frowns, continuously licking your slit with profound fervor, knowing that your words are genuine.
“Oh—what did I do wro—”
“You’re doing fucking spectacular right now, dear—keep going for me.” The sudden shift makes her smile as you chuckle a little, but not before eliciting a moan as her lips envelop your sensitive tip.
The sight is pretty adorable to say the least—disregarding the beauty of her face being disheveled due to her own hunger on your cock, her pouting in disbelief paints a smile on your face as you always love teasing her, even in moments like this.
But Kyujin doesn’t stop, not when she’s depraved for such a wonderful mast that she’s savoring every inch and second she invests towards you. She just appreciates every inch, kissing on it as she tells you how thankful she is for this opportunity and you’re just there, smiling like an idiot and caressing her hair leisurely.
“I’d never get tired worshipping your cock, daddy.” A peck on your base comes right after as she dives into the action, divulging how much she needed you.
Talent remains evident, her tongue dancing around your length as she takes you halfway, lips enveloping with a tight suction. Her hands roam on your thighs as you relax and let yourself loose for her, savoring the pleasure as you’re enamored with the beauty of filth.
The plastered drool around your cock when she pulls out is just diabolical, her expressions enough to make you twitch as her hand now grasps your base as she sucks on you like a lollipop.
“Getting ahead of ourselves right now, hm, dear?”
Kyujin paints a puzzle face, possibly hesitant to assume what she had in mind knowing your past ambiguity. “What do you mean, daddy?”
“Why the cat ears? Wanting to try something special?” You grunt slightly right after, utterly interested in what sparked her mind to try such an inviting fit.
“I always thought you loved the idea of me dressed as a pet.” She slobbers continuously over your length, sheathed with her drool as her tongue dances over your tip while she talks with her mouth full of cock. “So—mmfh—I rwlly—really wanted to dress like daddy’s slutty, obedient catgirl.”
Now that you’re enlightened, you can’t help but flash that grin because of her efforts and she ultimately knows your Achilles’ heel—with such a seductive vision coming into life, you can't help but rank this up on the greats.
Kyujin is just relentless right now, proving her talent and your time truly treasuring its worth, as she doesn’t keep anything idle. Whenever she pulls out to appreciate your balls and play with them, she continues pumping you with a pace tolerable, then when she sucks you off, her hands fondling those valuable reservoirs of yours gently.
Also, the sight of her figure just staying there, her head bobbing moderately with those cat ears on her head being the cherry on top is just truly insane, a view to savor for eons to come.
“God—what the fuck, Kyuj—holy shit, darling—you’re doing so good for daddy.” The praise strokes her gently, and those are just fuel as she keeps the pleasure in an all-time high, and you’re inching closer to that elated state.
But you have other plans for her, and it’ll be messier than this.
Sure, you want your load into her mouth, deposited right to her stomach or to paint that pretty face of hers, you just can’t hide the fact that you truly need to fuck her right now, and you’re not sugarcoating anything anymore.
“Kyuj—dear, rise up.” This earns a pout from the disheveled girl, her bright mind sensing that you wanted to do something and not the fact that she didn’t do great—you’ll just be incredibly stupid to think she didn’t excel here.
“I guess daddy wants to fuck her slutty pet…”
“I fucking do.” You get yourself out of the chair, prompting her to do something as you’re incredibly yearning to feel Kyujin. “Now, will you get all on fours on the bed, please, dear?”
She obliges and god, her outfit compliment her legs and her ass in this lingerie is such a hot sight that you just can’t help but gawk over it—her arching her back a little when she’s in position and wiggling her backside is just the final straw, and you need to do something right now.
You just can’t deal with your clothing being dressed onto yours anymore, peeling it off yourself as quickly as you can while savoring the obscene angle Kyujin has mounted herself onto.
“Please, daddy.” She looks behind her shoulder, flaunting her ass up as she caresses the soft mattress, waiting for what you will do to her. “I’ve been great—please treat your kitten like something you always wanted to do.”
Her way of words never disappoints, and you love the absolute madness and filthiness of each dropped syllable. Your cock is throbbing relentlessly, furiously wanting her bad with the scene presented in front of you—such an immaculate figure clothed so sinfully, ass up for you and such a fluffy tail is the cherry on top.
You mount near her, your hands finding the softness of her ass as you grip on it, and then teased your leaking cock over her clothed crotch.
“May I?” You ask Kyujin, repeatedly whining as you hint your tip over her drenched cunt over the fabric.
She just nods looking back, then gets herself ready for what’s about to take place.
Like a good girl.
The panties are practically drenched beyond saving, pulling it down and towards her knees, and god, the sight is downright depraved, utterly vitiated all thanks to you—the hint of that gray metal of her plug connected that fluffy tail just hints the contradiction, and it’s all too well.
You swipe your digits over her drenched lips as you earn a whine coming out of her lips. She knows that you can’t take it anymore, getting rid of the foreplay or anything in the like, but just go and do what she wants you to do.
Kyujin senses it, and your tip meeting the heat of her cunt was the last fucking straw.
She keens when you plunge the tip onto her overwhelming snugness, earning moans of approval and need out of her lips. The repeated calls of your name was just eargasmic as she forms fists onto the sheets, bracing every inch of you invading the walls of her tight pussy.
“Fucking tight, as always—shit.”
“Daddy, please—” Kyujin pleads to you as you elicit more ragged breaths, ensuing a turtle’s pace over her cunt for now as you make herself accustomed to your length for the time being. “—please f-fuck me real good.”
Whenever she feels submissive and utterly helpless, she begs and that’s music to your ears. With just a constant pace onto her pussy, you can’t help but marvel at how great her ass ripples every time, spanking the flesh harshly as the pain stings and is elicited.
“Ow! Oh my fucking god—daddy, please…” You’re just orchestrating a gradual pace right now, exponentially getting faster as the moans that form are more carnal, making you throb more.
Yet with this state of elation and pure flow of steady rhythm, you can’t help but think that something is missing, and it’s something she likes too.
“Wait—wha—what a-are you doing, daddy?” Kyujin whines, feeling herself being edged and empty as you do the unthinkable. “Why’d you pull out?”
You don’t want to, but you have a better idea that will enlighten her fully, because she never sees this coming.
Those fluffy, circular culprits stem the urge for you to go further with the kinks, and with such control that she wants, you know she’ll lose her shit.
“Wait—oh, daddy… You’re so naughty for your kitten…”
“Really am.” You’re no stranger in these cuffs, having done this before with her as you tease your tip onto her waiting lips, making her squirm. “Now, your hands behind your back please.”
Now with such vulnerability, she can’t help but voice out how she wants you to control her, dictate how she feels in the long run and how bad you want her.
“Gosh, daddy—really love cuffing your lovely slut, hm? Please fuck me up, daddy!” You will, and you’re not wasting any second because as soon as the cuffs clicked and locked in place, you inserted your length in her once again.
With Kyujin’s flexibility and strength still evident on her thighs, she lifts herself up enough to keep herself steady, a great angle for such diabolical pistoning at your end.
The chains of her collar rests onto her back, meeting the fluffy ends of her tail as you grasp it, making sure that you’re utilizing what you’re able to grasp and see. She yelps every time you bury your cock deep inside her velvety walls, seeing the repeated constrictions of her puckered hole around the metallic bud as the cherry on top which you ultimately love. Her moans restrict whenever you pull the leash, and she just laughs it out and moans how great your roughness is currently, and her words are just fuel to the fire at this point.
“Fu—uck—oh, shit—daddy! Fucking u-use me!”
“That’s my good fucking kitten.” You keep your firm grip on the handle, your other hand grasping her right hip as you pound her right, pace now relentless now with the constant urges she had morphed yourself into.
You’re now pounding her into total incoherence, and this is only the beginning.
But then, she remains sturdy and able to elicit those beautiful moans out of her mouth, legs squatting for you to be taken with your entirety, and that filthy mouth of hers.
“Dadd—y—oh fuck, I like it when y-you choke me—holy shit…”
“I know you do, kitten.” You grit your teeth as you exaggerate your thrusts, giving her what she deserves and facing her the fact of her sluttiness and yearning for you and your treasured dick. “Fuck, you’re getting tighter—guess you want me to call you that, huh?”
Guess you found the right name, and she’s borderline crying because of the pleasure and how badly she wants to be called as that.
“Yes, d-daddy.” She winces and hisses when you spank her, wrists flailing as the pleasure gets her going, uttering words as she’s still thankfully coherent. “Fucking l-love it when you—fuck, call me a kitten.”
That’s the groove, and you’re dancing with the devil.
Your hips oscillate at a ruthless pace, Kyujin’s moans and the repeated clashing of bodies are orchestrated to bless your ears, not to mention the squelching of her cunt due to the juices that’s seeping out of her tightness. Her thighs shiver, lips quivering to the roughness that’s being brought to her, and with no semblance of control, she can just take you all, like the good kitten that she is.
“Look at you already creaming on my cock.” She doesn’t give a compliment or the opposite, but it wouldn’t matter because she’s just taking you so well all that you can mouth is how great she possibly feels and the walls of her pussy. “Such a good, genuine slut for me, kitten.”
“Fuck! I am—I a-am your g-good kitten—oh god!” The reciprocation is audible, and it’s a rhythm in your ears you’ll always treasure. Her head yanks up every time you pull the leash towards you, and that earns that wicked smirk on your face, satisfied on the right roughness you’re bestowing her.
Surprisingly, the headband still clings for dear life onto her silken hair, tucked firmly behind her ear despite the onslaught of rough thrusts she’s taking. The sigh alone is worth a marvel, a blessing to savor as every detail is just beautiful up to the miniscule.
How could you not? Not when her back tenses with your actions, her pussy squelching as her nectar drips over the sheets, her thighs rippling and trembling due to you, her lingerie a perfect fit on her slender body, her hips and her ass hinting a rosy hue, the collar fitting perfectly around her neck, those cat ears a balance to such debauched sight and that tail of hers that’s a mere distraction as you’re fucking her with all your might, adding up the scenic beauty of her.
This is a sight to die for, and you’re absolutely living in it.
“Da—daddy, fuck—can’t t-take it anymore…” It’s bound to happen, as you let go of the leash and leaned over her, fucking her deeper and letting yoir voice tickle her ear.
“Then go, kitten.” You snarl as you keep the pace going, not giving her a millisecond to recover. “Cum on this cock.”
She does immediately, and it’s an utter mess all throughout.
There’s no respite, fucking her through her orgasm as she chants your name like a ritual, summoning the devil in you to totally wreck her in half.
You gradually slow down, not wanting her to pass out due to sheer overstimulation but still buried inside her, your hands supporting her shivering body that’s precarious due to the elation knocking down her walls.
“Good fucking kitten.” You hiss on Kyujin’s ear, earning a gulp from her and that beautiful smile from her lips as your praise is the cause.
You’re just buried inside her, immobile as she whines with the girth invading her walls thoroughly. Of course, girls like her at this moment crave for something special, like a reward they deserve as soon as the second of such filthy sex commences.
Those lips part, and she’s vocal with what she wants.
“Isn’t daddy close? You must be so close, daddy~” Kyujin’s tone laces need, the utter epitome of yearning for your cum for so long and her inviting voice alone makes you throb repeatedly.
You inevitably start your hips again and this time, you’re not holding back. Your hand ultimately grasps her hips with a grip that borderline leaves a bruise because of how you’re grappling it. The other isn’t so idle either, and even the best contributor to the mess Kyujin’s brain is currently experiencing as you pump her asshole with the tail plug that’s been keeping her tightest hole gaped.
Kyujin whimpers against you, having that modicum of patience left as you keep her holes filled and busy, all thanks to you.
If Kyujin can see your face contorting to the sheer pleasure her pussy brings, the candor is evident—you’re fucking close and not playing around anymore because she always love hearing how near you always are.
You’re not lasting a minute in her snugness.
“Gonna fucking cum, kitten—right to this tight, little pussy of yours.” She can’t control herself anymore and with your words, she’s a whimpering mess. You keep yourself steady, fucking her ultimately until she speaks volumes are you’re losing it.
“Please cum, daddy—” Kyujin is pleading, a pathetic tone just to earn what she deserves right up her womb. “—I c-can’t—please cum inside m-me, daddy!”
You enter the promised land, sinking deeper as you submerge into that euphoric state, depositing everything as you keep yourself sinked in her.
It goes straight towards where it belongs, filling her up to the brim as you squirm from the multiple spurts you filled her.
Hell, maybe you’ve possibly fucked a baby into her and you’d never know—the thrill is fun, but she possibly has planned this ahead.
“Fuck—that was—oh shit, you f-filled me up, daddy…” She rests her head against the mattress, her body relaxing over its comfort as she keeps her arch evident, ass up for you to marvel and drool on.
You eventually pulled out and fuck, you’re still throbbing seeing that freshly-fucked cunt dripping with your treasured cum, and you know what to do after this.
“You’ve been so great, kitten.” The immediate swipe of your digits gets her keening, lifting her head just for you to hear her moans as you scoop samples. "Here's a reward for you. Don’t waste it.”
“Yes, daddy.” She just takes it, no questions asked.
Kyujin fervorly sucks your digits sheathed with your semen, tongue swirling over it as she hums due to the satisfaction, a delectable treat tasted after such deprivation.
“Such a good kitten, huh?” She nods, as you uncuff her wrists and let her body rest against the mattress after such a rough session.
“You know that I’m still not done with you, right, kitten?” You yearn for her answer, towering over her exasperated frame as she recovers as fast as possible.
“Yes, daddy—you promised me that you will leave a load somewhere…”
That raises your eyebrows, interest piqued as you vaguely remember what the promise was but it’s surely as filthy as this. “Really? Enlighten me then..”
“You promised to leave a load on or in me after breeding me before—didn’t put some effort into wearing this without something in return…” There’s this hint of entitlement here, and as much as you want to put her in her place and remind her of something, her proposition is too inviting.
First of all, you did promise her that: going in lengths just to fulfill what she needs and even over your limits.
But what’s genuinely surprising is her fit for you to swoon and drool all over, and that’s why you adore the element of surprise.
“Right, and I dearly appreciate this, kitten, so do what you need to do.” She’s too delectable to let yourself be hindered from such a filthy round with her, and with her on all fours yet again and that beautiful face inviting you to do what you’re best at, you can’t simply resist.
Kyujin wiggles her ass as an invitation, as the sight of your load dripping between her thighs just releases those animalistic urges in you to go ballistic over her but you remain composed for an ephemeral amount of time. You work on her tail, teasing the metallic culprit down below as you thrust the metal criminally slow, and she’s already quivering.
“Daddy’s such a tease…” She moans out the pleasure right after, swiping your finger over her leaking cunt as you keep herself accustomed to what will invade her tightness soon, and the already-lubed plug aids her and introduces her to such wonders.
“It’s important, kitten.” Your circle the pivot of where the fur and the metal meets, earning those sultry cries from her mouth as you lean forward, inches away from ear as you whisper, “And you love whenever I tease you like this.”
Even if she denies it, her body says otherwise. She loves being taken care of and showing her what it feels like without overstimulating her so suddenly.
Because after all, she’s the best girl you’ve ever met and the best kitten when in bed.
Gonna make her purr—
“There you go.” You push the plug further, making her writhe with the feeling, succumbing to the euphoria it brings as your other hand dances around the lips of her filled pussy. “Keep moaning for me, kitten—such a good fucking girl, you are.”
Your words make her sensibly yearn for your cock once again, and with your constant teases and that longing control fading away as she gets too bearable to just stuck her with this for more minutes, you can’t take it anymore and neither does she.
As you command her to ease her anal muscles up, you prepare to pull out the plug as she voices something similar to your interest. “Daddy, do you remember the stuff you say whenever we do anal sex?”
You quite have the grip of that and yet again, you’re unsure but this time, you’re sincere since there’s a lot of things you could’ve said before. “What is it, kitten?”
Kyujin looks back, not with that smirk on her face as she states the obvious. “That you always wanna paint my face after fucking my ass or something in the like… y’know how bad that turns me on, daddy.”
Maybe she made that up, or it’s true based on the four times you’ve had this similar situation (not including this one), but you didn’t care to think much with your brain, but with such an irresistible sight in front of you, your cock does the thinking.
“If that’s what you want.” You eye her gaping hole, reach for the lube that’s near the drawer behind you and lathered a copious amount on your length before doing such a feverish act. “Behave well for me and I’ll paint your pretty face, kitten.”
Even with the dim, fluorescent lights emanating over the both of you, you can see the glint on her eyes once you said that. Thank the heavens above for such an amazing build from Kyujin, as the architecture of her legs stays sturdy, on all fours as you mouth yourself ready to plunge it in slowly and when you do, she buries her head onto the mattress, knees buckling.
“Fucking hell—still grips tight as fuck.” The grunts that follow right after are inevitable, as you push yourself deeper into Kyujin’s snug walls and her wanting more.
“God—fuck, daddy—” Her breaths are ragged, almost crying as the tightness overwhelms her but she still helps you out, and even with the help of the plug, she’s still as tight as a vacuum. “—push it in, I c-can take it…”
That’s the green light and you slowly invade the entirety of her ass, and it’s unreal how it truly feels around your pulsing length. You leisurely make Kyujin take it, let her be accustomed to your entire length as she eases her muscles for comfort, and everything is just going well as it should be.
“Daddy’s gonna split m-me open—oh fuck, daddy, it’s so big in my ass—god!”
“Take it easy, kitten.” You stroke her hair to reassure her, as you resume snapping your hips to her liking. “Gotta start slow, okay?”
So you did, a snail’s pace in her ass as she savors every second of your invasion and the ruined sight in front of you is just carnal fuel. She still maintains that cat-like facade for you, willing to be into the play and letting you experience her capabilities right off the bat.
All throughout the half an hour of such filth, she’s doing so well and the genuine fruition with her, and you can’t ask for anything more. You’ll never get tired of peppering her with kisses, back tensing as you move your length ever-so-slightly, and those endless stream of compliments that always makes her feel special and that familiar rosy hue hinting on her cheeks. As time runs, you impale her slowly and move even more, and she’s whining, clearly whining for more which is evident with the tone of her voice.
God, you can just imagine how pretty and inviting her face must be diving into such a plethora of pleasure.
“I c-can take more, daddy—” Kyujin enlightens you with a green light, and with her assurance, you aren’t a stranger to how these things go. “—do it—fuck me like h-how you always wanted it!”
The demand laced in her voice says a lot, even though it’s slightly muffled as you begin moving with such confidence, a moderate pace enough for the both of you to feel elevated.
Her gaping hole craves for you, as it feels like a magnet whenever you thrust into her, onto the limit as suction is the pleasurable it has ever been, and it’s always fucking up with your brain’s chemistry—it’s a poison you’re addicted to, and it’s mutual with hers. The sensations are far too good to be true, especially when your balls slap against her wet lips and her hole constricts tighter with the feeling of such mere contact onto her sensitive cunt. Your persistent throbs against her tight asshole sends a message, and she likes how she always makes you feel the utmost euphoria, and your seeping animalistic urges slowly going down onto that filthy route. You grasp onto her hips firmly, pistoning yourself to truly let her feel how bad you’ve been wanting her ass as she remains steady, on all fours albeit quivering due to your reckless acts on her ass.
“Fuck—please, d-daddy—more! Gape me o-open!” Kyujin’s pleas are a chant in your, following those defiled moans that completes the symphony. Her sounds just ignites you to chase that high of yours, fucking her faster and letting her asshole take what you can give her, and you’re fulfilling what she wants for the umpteenth time.
“What if I just—fuck—like, fill this ass up?” You grit your teeth right after, continuing your pace as the resonating sounds of her cheeks meeting yours makes you throb, inching closer towards that promised state. “You wouldn’t m-mind that, do you, kitten?”
It doesn’t register within her answer so coherently and immediately, and you spanking on her butt harshly and deftly fingering her doesn’t help, even with such a reduced pace in your thrusts.
Kyujin whimpers and moans in return, and you’re not satisfied. “Kitten, answer daddy’s question.”
It’s stern and it barely registers in her with the current stimulation, but her current state etches a smile on your lips. “W-what question, daddy—fuck!”
You smack her again, and ultimately give her mercy because she’s been such a good kitten for you, and she deserves the best of treatment.
“I said—” You lean down, your body resting against her back as you whisper in her ear, continuing your thrusts. “—you don’t mind me filling up this tight ass, won’t you, kitten?”
You kiss Kyujin’s nape, earning a moan from her as your hands grasp her tits against the white lingerie still fitted perfectly on her body and go down onto teasing her abs as the cherry on top. She manages to utter an answer, but not without broken melodies and discordant sounds of pleas.
“God—please—fuck, I d-don’t care anymore, daddy—” Kyujin pulls you into a kiss as you eagerly reciprocated, letting her know how much you fucking want her and you let her finish what plea she may utter. “—but as l-long as—oh god—I feel your cum, t-then it’s good…”
You continue pumping her and you’re at your wit’s end with the ability to last any longer than a minute. With her debauched sight, heavenly moans, and what she wants from you, you’d ultimately bless her with another reward.
Your cadence falls a little dissonant, grunting in every thrust as you continue to play with her tits on the fabric and kneading her cheeks to turn you on even more.
Right now, you’re going to erupt strongly and Kyujin’s ass vice grip would be the culprit.
“Gonna fucking cum so deep in you, kitten—” You lick her ear, continuing a strong pace as you pound her into oblivion. “—and you'll store it in your ass like a good girl, do you understand?”
Kyujin faces back, nodding her head and with her frame taking you all with great semblance of control and composure—even with her shivering thighs and possibly weak knees, she never ceases to amaze you—you know you’re just going to be hammering until you blow it all.
And so you did, cumming deep and painting her anal walls white, possibly every snug inch.
The sight is beyond fucked up with ten seconds worth of such elevated orgasm whenever you pull out—your cum leaking out of your tip and out from her tight hole, dripping towards her cunt.
Right at this moment, Kyujin has truly made you be at your best, to be downright animalistic and the filthy sight of her holes leaking with your seed will forever be etched in your brain.
“That was fucking good, kitten—god, you’re so good for me.” You stroke Kyujin’s hair, reassuring her of how perfect she has been with you and how well she took you, and that alone makes you feel proud of her.
“Loved this so much, daddy—so warm inside me…” She turns around, laying herself flat on the bed as she recovers from the sneaky high she had when you fucked her ass relentlessly.
Even with the possibly evident soreness, she still aids you with easing her muscles up, letting the plug store all your cum inside her walls and letting it stay there for as long as you want.
“Good kitten.” You join her on the bed, peppering her cheeks with kisses as she finds your lips once again, eagerly reciprocating and voicing out how great this experience is.
“I think we should do buttplugs more, daddy.”
“Filthy slut.” You chuckle right after, appreciating her features as you adore her fetishes. “That’s cute but damn, I really loved your cunt more.”
“You love both, daddy—stop lying.”
You elicit a gasp, shocked with her words as you state the fact. “I do but you—”
Yet Kyujin shuts you up with another peck, and then she pulls out with that cute smile on her lips, and her beauty still exuding seductiveness and the feline atmosphere still there.
You take seconds to adore and marvel as her incredible figure is still on display, despite the disheveled fits (you’re genuinely surprised her headband is still there, tucked and fitted) and ruined appearance—Kyujin always looks spectacular, and that’s such a blessing.
“Well, I guess there’s another hole you haven’t filled yet, daddy.” With the way she talks and invites you, how can you not resist?
It is all too well with Jang Kyujin, but you have some decency left and that grasp of self-control left in the bank.
Or do you?
Yes, you do.
“I think we should clean up first, kitten.” You rise up, as the young girl composes herself and agrees with you, but not without the following proposition. “Then maybe you can blow me on the balcony before we have dinner.”
That piques her, eyes scintillating full of anticipation as she rebuts. “But daddy’s load is enough for my dinner.”
You smile, giggling a little as Kyujin paints that familiar smile on her lips, her way with words still getting up on your nerves.
“Alright, let’s see how this goes, kitten.” You compose and dress yourself up (pretty unhygienic but okay), as you let yourself be occupied onto something else. “For now, you can take a shower while I get us some dinner.”
“Still with this plug on? And I wanna shower with daddy~”
Well, here are the toughest choices but she’s too insatiable to fight the temptation, and ultimately, Kyujin still wins.
“Fuck it, babe—remove the plug start up the tub. I’m joining you.”
That curls up that smirk on hers, as she elicits such an ecstatic cheer, swiftly going to the bathroom and preparing for herself and possibly, you.
You’re going to die on this hill—maybe that’s the best way to end it, but you’re reconsidering your life choices, and will still end up with Kyujin and her only, for this night alone.
"Hey baby bear, want to watch a movie tonight?" You hug Seulgi, but she quickly breaks herself out of it.
"A-Ah, I have to go workout, don't wait up."
"Again? You just went in the afternoon!"
"Yeah uh, I ate a lot for dinner, so I'll go do another session." She darts into the bedroom to change.
"Don't push yourself so hard, this was supposed to be a vacation!" Aaaand she's out the door, great. What is supposed to be a relaxing resort stay with Seulgi has definitely turned frosty. She was happy the first night, but she's been distant ever since, avoiding you and hiding herself at the resort gym, and you have no idea what or if you did anything wrong. You have two more days to figure out what's wrong before you're back in Seoul and returning to normality.
"Miss Kang, so good to see you back so soon!" The quizzical receptionist greets Seulgi at the gym entrance.
"Ah hi yes, I'm just here for a little extra workout."
"I do have to mention that we're closing for the night soon, but you're free to use the facilities until then."
"I won't be long, thank you!" Seulgi goes to a bench and begins her workout of crunches and hip raises to expend her energy—she pushes herself for a while before the receptionist has to call it quits for her.
"Euahhh! Thanks, I'll be out of your hair shortly!" Seulgi's body is burning with soreness. She sighs on the bench—there's a reason she's pushing herself so hard, trying to wear herself out before she goes back. Her hand drifts to her flat tummy, the focus of her workouts, the source of admiration from fans and fellow idols alike, but also the source of her current frustrations.
It's too flat!
Her hand drifts further down, and Seulgi has to catch herself before any cameras catch her—she so dearly wants her belly to be round, but only from a very specific reason: Bread.
Specifically bread of the procreation variety, the kind that takes nine months to ferment. Seulgi's so down bad that when she was in child's pose earlier all she can think about is being plowed and sown and having one of her own, praying that her wetness isn't soaking through her workout tights. And whose bread she would like to grow? Why he's back in the suite, probably unpacking and getting things all comfortable for her.
She sighs and heads back to the room from the gym for a second time, and this time things get unbearable.
"Hey, come here, let's talk." Seulgi is surprised by your bear hug, strong arms wrapping around her possessively.
"H-Huh, wait, let me go!"
"No, what's going on, you've been distant this whole trip. Did something happen?" Seulgi can hear the pout, and it just makes her feel guiltier—here you are concerned and worried, when all Seulgi can think about is getting you naked and underneath her.
"L-Let go, I'm so sweaty!" She struggles, and her latent arousal grows as you continue to "restrain" her with your arms. She's dragged to the love seat and sat in your lap, but she jumps off you as soon as she can. "I'm sorry, it's not you, it's me!"
"What?" Her words sink in and you jump to your feet "A-Are we breaking up? Oh god—"
"No no no we're not!" She grabs your hands and kisses you. "If anything, I think I like you too much."
"Then tell me what's going on."
"I, I know we talked about it, I just really want your baby."
"Yeah, but we agreed on being careful before we get married." You remind her gently.
"I know I'm sorry I just— You know I get umm..."
"Horny? Clingy?" you soften your words for Seulgi.
"Let's go with clingy. It happens when that part of my cycle comes around. It just hit especially hard this time..." Seulgi's blabbering now, the words rushing out of her. "And of course it happens when we're on vacation and it's even harder to avoid you, because I actually don't want to avoid you. Every night I see you come out of the shower I just want to jump you with no protection and let things happen. But that's not fair to you and I can't expect you to be the reasonable one and stop me every time so I try to workout extra hard and tire myself out so I won't have the energy to do that and I— Ahh I'm not making much sense am I?" Seulgi's a bit of a mess—she's definitely horny (you've sat back down and Seulgi naturally got in your lap, and she's been grinding and squirming subtly on you the whole time), but she's also conflicted, half kissing and half sniffling against your neck.
"No no, you made some sense. But we should get married first right?" That has always been a sore point of contention, despite the agreement—the two of you were married in all but name, except it wouldn't do to have a wedding just yet, not while Seulgi's an active idol.
"Yeah I know, I know—" You hold a hand up to shush her.
"This will sound crazy, and I'll do it again in the future, however you want me to do it, but for now: Kang Seulgi, will you marry me so I can knock you up?" The proposal was ridiculous, outrageous, absurd, infinitely more horny than romantic, both of you completely unprepared and poorly dressed for the moment.
But it was perfect.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" Seulgi's tongue is in your mouth immediately, a giddy giggle escaping her as your tongue pushes against hers. "How is this going to work?"
"We're going to register our marriage, as soon as possible. But your word is good enough for me, so this is now our honeymoon." The implication of what happens on a honeymoon doesn't so much as hang in the air as it does dangle in front of the two of you like a delicious baguette.
"O-Our wedding would still be a shotgun wedding then." It's a bygone conclusion in Seulgi's head that she's going to be bred before then, and she gets even wetter.
"Technically it's won't be a shotgun wedding, because there the guy marries the girl because she got pregnant."
"And it's different for us because...?"
"I'm marrying you to get you pregnant. But your career would—"
"Shh deal with that later, that's the most romantic thing you've said to me." Seulgi's kisses you again lovingly, and for a moment she's happy to settle for an intimate moment, but—
"There's just one slight problem, you forgot to account for one thing." Seulgi looks at you a little confused, and you watch her pupils dilate in real time as she feels your hardness now pressed against her. "Me." Your hands drift to her waist, and you're pulling her even closer to you.
"How do you think I feel, seeing you come back home wearing your tight workout clothes all sweaty every night?" You lean in, disregarding Seulgi's sweat and kissing along her collarbone. "I don't have a cycle, so I always want to knock you up."
"Ahh!" Seulgi gasps as you slide fingers across her exposed waist. She's paralyzed by arousal, making itself very apparent between her legs and across her chest. She has been so caught up in managing her own desires, she didn't think about the effect she had on you.
"And if you're extra tired, that just makes things harder for me." Your whispered words flow into her ear, to her brain, and then straight down her spine to her horny core. "What's stopping me from holding you down and doing whatever I want to you right now?"
"Y-You would, now?" It suddenly hits Seulgi fast that she might get the very thing she wants the most in the world right now, right away.
"Right in this chair if you can get us naked without having to leave it." Your words whip Seulgi into action, and she's tugging at your t-shirt, pulling it off you. You help her out of her top the way a truant helps the class president on a group project—looking on at her all dopey as she does her thing. Seulgi takes charge, pushing your shorts down as much as she can, and then she's stuck.
"Fuck I—" She tugs on her own tights, but said tights are far too taut around Seulgi's tight toned thighs. She plants her feet on the chair, trying to stand up, wobbling but staying in it best she can, and it is far too dangerous.
"Seul!" She doesn't listen, and you have to forcefully bring her down. With two hands on her hips you tear the durable fabric apart, giving Seulgi enough purchase to properly spread her legs. "This is good enough." A pull of her plain black panties aside and you're sliding into her.
"Yes!" Seulgi whimpers, and you have to hold her still to gather yourself—you haven't seen Seulgi quite this needy ever.
"Just wait a moment, I'm not going anywhere! What were you thinking, trying to stand on the chair, it's dangerous!"
"I wasn't thinking, and you shouldn't be either." You swallow a moan as Seulgi squeezes herself around you deliberately. "Do you feel it?" She squeezes you again.
"Fuck Seulgi yes." Your hands drift to her midriff, trying to hold her still, but it is a futile effort as her pussy contracts around you yet again.
"That's how much I want it right now, it's all I can think about. If you want it as bad as you say you do, stop thinking until you've pumped this flat belly full and round." You don't have it in you to fight Seulgi, and as soon as your grip on her relaxes, her grip on you tightens, shamelessly grinding back and forth in your lap. Her teeth nip into your earlobe as she whimpers filthy nothings into your ear, thanking and begging you for the cum you're going to pour into her.
"M-More oppa, I need more!" Breeding Seulgi is a two-person job, so with a gratifying clap you grab her ass and begin shoving her up and down your cock. The love seat scrapes against the floor as Seulgi emphatically joins in, planting her knees and bouncing herself on your cock crazy please-knock-me-up style. There's no time to admire the way her midriff moves, or her entire body rolling to take your cock deep, or her little mewls into your neck—Seulgi's doing all of this to yank your cum out of you, playing tug-of-cock in your lap.
"Giveittome pleasepleaseplease!" The words come out in a rush as Seulgi peaks, and if you thought she was squeezing you earlier, it is nothing compared to the way her pussy tries to pull your cock deeper into her, and you lose the tug-of-cock all too willingly. You hold Seulgi down on your spewing shaft, splattering her walls with thick seed as she stays rooted in your lap, and the first round of planting your seed in Seulgi reaches a satisfactory end.
"It feels so warm, you're so warm in me..."
"You're so hot around me too." You're still half-hard, and you can feel Seulgi still squeezing you. "You'll need to wait a bit for round two."
"We have the whole day tomorrow, this is enough to satisfy me for now. Ooh, somebody liked that!" Seulgi feels the twitch inside her when she says the words "for now". You look around, but one key thing is out of reach—tissues!
"Wait, don't stain the couch!" You scooch the two of you forward a little to let anything drip on to the floor, but Seulgi has an easier solution. She lifts her hips slightly and quickly slips her panties back into position. The resulting view is arguably more satisfying—instead of your load dripping out of Seulgi, you watch her black panties get stained white, the blanc spot spreading across the noir fabric, visual representation of what's happening inside of her as well.
"I should've worn something looser." Seulgi gets off you, slightly struggling to peel off the torn tights.
"I'll get you a new pair, sorry."
"No I have plenty, it's not a problem." Seulgi follows your gaze—you're still looking between her legs, at her panties keeping your load in her. "What is it?"
"Isn't it going to stain?"
"I can always buy more, I'd rather keep it from leaking."
"You can always get more of that too." You hug her, waddling the two of you towards the bathroom. "Maybe give you a little more in the shower?"
"Not tonight, sorry, I want to prepare for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow?"
"Nothing, just a bit of self-care, do you want to shower first? I'll be in there for a while." You let Seulgi go first, and she takes so long she has to shake you awake. She's also clearly tuckered out, for by the time you're done showering she's already tucked under the sheets.
"Sleeping?"
"I was waiting for you." She pulls your arm across her body, letting you settle on her midriff, hand over her tummy intentionally. "Thanks oppa."
"I want what you want, I love you."
"Love you too, good night."
You wake up late next morning, and Seulgi's nowhere to be found again. You quickly fire off a text to her, and she tells you to come to the pool. You throw on some clothes and quickly realize you shouldn't have bothered.
"Hey dear." Seulgi's lounging by the pool, wearing a strapless bikini top, a blue floral dress, and a gorgeously ruinable midriff. She puts her book down and gets up, sauntering over and leaning against the window, posing for you like she's done countless times for photoshoots. "Is that your morning wood, or are you just happy to see me?"
"Yes, both, is this what you were preparing?"
"Perhaps, why don't you undress me and find out?" Except this isn't a photoshoot, this is Seulgi dolled up and offering herself to you; she loosens her dress, revealing the matching navy bikini bottoms she has on. You hold her by the hips, pressing her against the cold glass surface and kissing her.
"God you're amaz—"
"Ah ah ah, save it for when we're naked." You quickly strip, but Seulgi's still waiting for you to do the honors. Off goes her top, but when you pull off Seulgi's bottoms you're too stunned to speak—Seulgi's completely bare down there, pink lips blushing amongst pale skin. You had grown used to Seulgi keeping things neat, so seeing her completely "naked" was unexpected, to say the least. "S-Stop staring and say something."
"You're amazing." You immediately run a hand down her body, feeling her unexplored skin and delving a finger past her lips. "Is this what you were preparing last night?"
"Yeah, I— Mmm right there! I wanted to watch us clearly, to see you going in." Both of you are glued between your legs as your morning wood slips into Seulgi's morning warmth, and the sight of your tip pushing apart Seulgi's rosy lips threatens to split your brain in two. She's similarly out of it, eyes blank and unfocused at your shaft sliding into her. "Fuck, p-pull out, I want to see it again."
You've had Seulgi multiple times, and it's not like she's been blindfolded when it happens (not always, anyways), but this is the first time she's asking to watch you plunge into her. You lift her hips, giving her an angle she can look down at, and you pull out, making sure she can see your base and balls heavy with baby batter. You shove yourself back in, and Seulgi throws her head back hard enough your hear her thud against the glass.
"Oh fuck, are you okay?"
"Don't stop, fuck..." Seulgi doesn't even notice her own bump, instead imagining the bulge between her legs and the bump you're going to give her in a couple months. She draws you in, and with her legs wrapping around you you have to pin her to the glass, your tip pressed against her cervix. "Oh yes, right there!" Her fingers dig into your hair, twisting and pulling you to face her. "You have to cum right there, I want to feel it!"
Seulgi's possessed, frenzied, and she's dragging you down with her. The pool is a small private one for the suite, but what you're doing with Seulgi quickly becomes public knowledge as you start hammering her against the glass, making her whispers and whimpers turn into yelps and cries of pleasure. She wriggles her hips every time you hilt inside her, as if willing you deeper, wanting to feel you press against her womb. Her eyes drift, inching to roll back in her head, but she closes them tightly and knits her brows, as if trying to keep her sanity.
"Fuck I can't oppa, I can't! I'm going to cum!"
"Then do it!"
"Nngh no! I want to feel you cum, need to know you're cumming in me."
"Baby bear, if you're going to look like this, there's no way I'm not filling your tight little belly up." Just the promise of you filling her up has Seulgi clenching around you. "So just let go and cum, or I'll make you." You start slamming up into her, and her expression disintegrates, eyelids drooping and lips lightly parted as she grunts and takes your brutal babymaking thrusts. She gurgles, and sharp nails dig into the back of your neck as she starts to cum. Her legs go weak, no longer staying wrapped around your hips, but you don't stop, pushing through her contracting warmth, as if to say—
You're not milking me for my cum, I'm pumping you full of it!
With a growl you push up and into Seulgi, making her leave her feet, and she's effectively impaled on your cock as you burst, thick potent cum surging into her, turning her womb into an infinity pool—filled to the brim and overflowing off the edges. Her eyes are blank, staring past you into the sky, wholly focused on your warm load being pumped into her, toes curling uselessly in the air. The flow into Seulgi seems to not slow down, and she so dearly wants to put a hand on her tummy, to see if you're bulging her with cum, because fuck Seulgi's starting to feel heavy.
When her feet touches the floor again she almost slips, partly because her strength has left her completely, and partly because she's stepped in a puddle of your cum, evidence of just how much you put in her—you've leaked so much out of her and she still feels full! She fidgets her toes, your cum thick and sticky between them, no doubt thick and sticky inside her as well, and a cum-lust takes over Seulgi.
"You okay Seul?" She's slumped to the floor, kneeling in the puddle of slick and cum without a care.
"Yeah I just need mo— Need to clean you up." She takes you in her mouth, servicing you all over, cleaning your shaft and your balls with sloppy drool and slurpy tongue. Seulgi takes her time with it, and if you didn't know any better, she was trying to get you hard for another round. When you're hard and poking into her cheek she releases you, and for a moment you thought you might be wrong, as she stands up and walks away, going to pick up her discarded clothing. Yet oh so slowly she bends over, picking up her bikini with the same deliberate slowness she cleaned your cock with, and you recognize it for what it is.
A fucking invitation, in every sense of those two words.
Seulgi keeps still as your hands grab her hips, and she's quickly rewarded with your tip pushing past her still-creamy lips. Her legs go weak again, and you follow her down to the floor, rutting into her doggy-style. Seulgi's a little embarrassed at just how brazenly she's asking for it, but it's clearly working for both of you as you reach over to paw at her chest, having your way with her as she whines and moans. It's almost hypnotic the way her thighs and and ass jiggle as you pound into her—this is Seulgi at her juiciest and most delectable, and a low rumble escapes you as you get close. She reaches back to grab your thigh, but she need not have worried, and a few thrusts later you're emptying yourself into her. Seulgi triggers her own orgasm too, rubbing her clit to make sure she drains you thoroughly. This time she stays there, letting gravity help her keep your seed in her.
"You really want this huh, last night was not just a moment of craziness?" You're sitting down next to her, watching her in the ridiculous yet lewd pose of her ass still perched in the air as she rests on the floor. That makes Seulgi sit up.
"Did you think I wasn't serious yesterday? Was everything you said yesterday just... Playing along?"
"N-No! I do want to marry you, but I wasn't sure if you wanted everything else to happen so quickly, this weekend." Seulgi's in your lap again, just like last night.
"I do, I want us to start a family as soon as possible." Seulgi snakes her arms around you, hugging you tightly. She sits her hips down on yours, making sure you feel your spend oozing out of her. "I remember everything you said last night, I'm treating this as our honeymoon, so as long as it ends in you finishing in me, you can do anything you want, have me anytime you want."
"As much as I want to, we need to take a break at least for lunch." You can't believe it, but Seulgi's pouting that you can't fill her up again right away. "I'm as serious as you are, so I'm here if you need me for anything. Don't!" you warn her immediately, knowing the next words out of her mouth would be her needing you to knock her up. Reluctantly she stands up and finally leaves your lap, and she disappears into the bathroom to clean up and be presentable for lunch in the resort.
You could not have forseen how lunch would become a complete mess, or rather, how you became a complete mess, because Seulgi was downright irresistible. She dressed plainly, a sundress befitting the warm climes, but the only thing plainer than her outfit were her intentions.
"Seulgi, see anything you like?"
"Oh, whatever you want. Whenever you want. I like everything I see, it all looks so delicious!" Instead of the menu she's staring right at you, bedroom eyes fluttering for all to see. Any hot-blooded male would have wondered if you were mad, not skipping lunch and just taking Seulgi back to the room for a thorough pounding before coming back out to eat. You jump when you feel a stray foot touch your leg, running it up and down your limb.
"Hello and welcome, may I take your order?"
"Yes, I'll have the carbonara pasta." You answer, ignoring Seulgi's foot dancing up to your knee.
"Very good sir, and for you miss?"
"Mmm nice and thick. I am— I mean, I'll have, what he's having." Seulgi doesn't even take her eyes off you, barely sparing the waitress an iota of attention.
"I'll make that two then."
"Oh I hope so too."
Seulgi wants twins?!
The knowledge that Seulgi wants you to breed her is fucking you up so hard, everything sounds wrong and lewd and filled with innuendo, just like Seulgi is filled with— no you have to stop!
"What are you thinking about oppa?" Seulgi knows, she fucking knows the effect she's having on you. "Was there something else you wanted to eat?" Like me?
"No, was just thinking about dessert." Even that sounds lewd coming out of your mouth.
"We can have that back in the room." You can have me back in the room.
"Y-Yeah, sounds good." Seulgi simply stays quiet, tapping at her phone, and you quickly bury your gaze in your phone too. Soon you feel her foot being naughty again, and you see Seulgi with her head resting on her hands, leaning forward and looking at you intently. "What is it?"
"Hmm? Nothing." She picks up her phone again, and this time your phone buzzes.
*Just waiting for us to finish lunch, so you can go back to knocking me up*
You look up from the message, and Seulgi's just looking at you again, as if she hasn't just sent one of the most depraved messages you've seen from her.
"Do you want to just get it to go?"
"No, we should just eat since we're here already." The pasta arrives, and Seulgi manages to clumsily knock a fork off the table. "Sorry."
"I'll get you a new one Miss."
"It's okay, five second rule."
"Please, I insist."
"Thank you!" Seulgi hands the fork to the waitress, but she doesn't get up from under the table. You're halfway into your first bite when you feel Seulgi's hand creep up your thigh, reaching through your shorts and boxers to get to you. You feel your own legs get pushed open as Seulgi settles in between them, quickly stroking you to full hardness right in the restaurant. Oh fuck, how large is the tablecloth, or is everyone just watching Seulgi give you a handjob under the table? You don't get another moment to think though, as Seulgi gets far more daring, pushing your shorts up your thigh and nestling her cheek right against the bare skin. Surely not— She starts sucking.
Kang Seulgi is giving you a blowjob in the middle of the restaurant.
You try to close your legs, to squeeze Seulgi out from under there, but she keeps you spread. You can hear the soft suckling noises she makes, her lips enveloping your tip and tongue swirling around it, and you just pray that you're the only one that can hear it.
"And here's the fork."
"Fuck... I mean fork, t-thank you, thank you for the fork! She went to the bathroom, she's not anywhere else!"
"I see..." Oh god, does she see? Is Seulgi's feet poking out from underneath or something? The waitress walks away without another word. Seulgi gets back to eating you, and you're dangerously close to popping.
"Seulgi!" You hurriedly tap her with your knee, but it is of no use. The audible gulp of Seulgi going deep on your cock is enough to send you soaring, and the fork in your hand is trembling as you unload down her throat, feeding her thick and creamy pastaless carbonara. The fork hits the table with a thud as Seulgi finally retreats, surfacing back in her seat, tongue swiping the last of your cum from her lips. "What the hell was that?" Seulgi beckons you closer to hear her whisper.
"I couldn't wait for us to finish lunch to have you fill me up. It was either that or I ride you in the restaurant, so I settled for you in my mouth." You're left speechless as she starts on her plate of pasta. Kang Seulgi settled for giving you a blowjob in the middle of the restaurant. "Hurry up and start eating!"
You somehow manage to finish your lunch without further distractions from Seulgi, and with her half-eaten lunch packed in a container ("I had plenty right before," she said happily to the waitress) you find yourself back in the room with a fidgety Seulgi.
"So, dessert?" she asks, already slipping out of her sundress.
"I'd say yes except you kinda just reset the cooldown on things in the restaurant."
"And is there no way I can help with that?" She plays with her underwear.
"Just a little time, please."
"Okay, take your time, I'll just be in the bedroom warming up."
"Warming up?"
"Exercise, stretching, fertility rituals and home remedies, the usual." You're staring and silent as Seulgi saunters into the bedroom, leaving her sundress pooled on the floor in front of you.
You sigh as you sit on the couch, only for your phone to immediately start buzzing.
*I lied, I'm not really warming up*
*I'm touching myself thinking about what we'll do as soon as you're ready*
*my fingers don't stretch me half as well as you do*
*is it helping? I hope it is*
You had a sexting phase with Seulgi, back when she was traveling for her world tour, and her baby fever seems to have pushed things up a notch as she continues.
*I thought about getting some local remedies you know? But I know you wouldn't approve*
*you're right* you tap out.
*shouldn't you reward me for that, I know just how you can do it*
*anyways so I got some home remedies from Korea, my parents said it worked for their friends and they all have grandchildren now!*
*oh I shouldn't be talking about our parents should I? Not very sexy*
*let's just say I took it this morning before you woke up, gave me a morning lake for your morning wood, and I took it before lunch too*
That explains the under-the-table action you got from her, it's from all the under-the-counter home remedies she's taking!
*are you ready yet? I'm trying so hard to not come out and ride you so please don't make me wait too long*
*what are you wearing?* You rise from the couch.
*just my underwear, should I take it off now?*
*you choose*
You get up and cross the suite to the bedroom, finding Seulgi tucked underneath the covers.
"Thought we could do something a little more playful."
"And because you wanted to leave me guessing." Seulgi beckons you over with a finger.
"So come over and find out." You strip off your clothes and slip under the covers, only to find out that you're at the wrong level of undress. The duration of one kiss is all it takes to rectify that mismatch, and with a hand on her hip you're able to spoon your fork-dropping woman, sliding into her with ease.
"You're so damn wet bear."
"The home remedy works." There's no rush, and it's so easy to thrust slowly into Seulgi's drenched heat.
"So, got it from your parents huh, or should I start calling them mom and dad too?"
"Oh god stop! We are not talking about them now." Seulgi reaches for your hips, urging you to go faster.
"I'm surprised they're okay with it, given that you know, we're not married yet."
"They understand, ah! Given my line of work. You've met them already, they like you, they're not going to complain if I want to hurry the timeline a little." Her legs tangle with yours, squeezing you as you hit deep in her.
"Did you get me any home remedies? If you're going to pull a stunt like the restaurant again I might need a little help."
"Oh, I thought you would get some from your parents, maybe our parents could share recipes—"
"Okay, we are not talking about my parents right now."
"Then shut up and fuck me, you won't need any help, it was so thick and salty in my mouth."
"The pasta right? Yeah it wasn't the best."
"Only if you want to give me a food baby. Was talking about what's stored here," Seulgi grabs you between the legs playfully. "So thick and sticky, I'm sure you can give me a proper baby." She groans as you thrust again, and this time her hand around your neck is a little more urgent. "Less talking, need to feel you put a load in me, and then again afterwards. Fuck me roughly, fuck me gently, I don't care just fuck your wife!" You do as she asks, pushing Seulgi on her front and rolling yourself on top of her.
You press your chest to her back, hugging her tightly as your hips churn into her relentlessly. Seulgi moans and tightens around you, spreading her legs to give you maximum access. Her legs kick up uselessly as she wails and cums, and you bask in the knowledge that only you can make her feel like that. Knowledge is definitely a powerful drug, and knowing that Seulgi didn't hesistate to tell her parents of all people that she's trying to get bred is kicking in, making you drive your hips that much harder into her. You feel imperious: Seulgi's your wife, and you are going to mate her.
Mate.
You roll Seulgi on her back and spread her wide, making her yelp in surprise as you plunge back deep into her. She lets out a shrill cry as you pound right at her womb—if any round was going to knock her up, this would be the one to do it!
"My wife, mine!" you rasp, hooking her legs and bending them back to get better access. You're half squatting now, the bed helping you bounce a little and really pound Seulgi into the bed.
"Yessss yes yes yes!" You're leaning over her, putting all of your weight on Seulgi's hips. She's going to be sore, but she can take it, she has the strength and flexibility to take you—Seulgi's trained to be an idol after all.
Trained to be bred.
You groan and explode with a triumphant shout, plunging down into Seulgi and staying there. She cums with you, and watching her beautiful face dissolve into sheer ugly orgasmic pleasure you feel a rush similar to the seed that's rushing into Seulgi's womb at the same time—omnipotence, only you get to see her like this!
"I love you, I love you so much, I'm so happy..." she's babbling, hugging you with what strength she has left.
"I love you too Seulbear." You stop pressing into her and back off, giving Seulgi a little room to breathe, but all she wants to do is cling to you, legs trying feebly to wrap around you. You settle for lying halfway on top of her, letting her feel your presence still on top of her, but not suffocatingly so.
"It's going to happen isn't it? You were so deep." she asks.
"I hope so, did it hurt?"
"A little, but then I felt you and it— It was so hot, like you were everywhere in me. It felt so good." Seulgi's glowing, a sheen of sweat on her forehead somehow making her look even better. You kiss her lovingly, and Seulgi's surprisingly aggressive, sucking on your lower lip, tongue reaching out to tangle with yours.
"I want to do it again." She tries to push herself up, but can barely lift her off the bed. "In a little bit."
The two of you settle for ordering room service and never leaving the room for another meal again. Seulgi's nickname may be bear, but the two of you fuck like rabbits the rest of the trip. The tiniest of provocations is enough to trigger an extended breeding session—if Seulgi ever happens to be below your hips it's an excuse for her to get you hard and get pumped shortly after. You so much as sit down on any surface and Seulgi's liable to appear and bounce on your cock until she's dripping cum all over said surface. On the last night Seulgi bending over and catching your eye while she's packing is enough to get her out of her shorts and you into her as soon as said shorts hit the floor.
Morning comes with Seulgi riding you, grinding in your lap with the abs she worked so hard for, happy with the knowledge that this weekend just ruined all of it for the near future.
"We really should have slept," you manage between groans of pleasure.
"We can sleep after we're done." Seulgi squeezes you expertly, having learned just how to get you fully drained over the many sessions of babymaking sex. "On the way back!"
"Fine, let's finish it together." You reach for her clit, and with a deft touch you trigger Seulgi's orgasm and let go yourself, filling her up for one last time. Over the trip you've definitely outdone the resort restaurant—you've filled Seulgi up far more than they have, that's for sure.
The two of you stumble through checkout and the airport, the two of you snoring loudly the entire flight back. After a long and sore week at work you finally meet up with Seulgi again, and you hug her happily as she enters your home.
"Hi honey, my wife." You could only call her that here. "Fancy work event?"
"You're calling me that now? I guess, hi hubby." She pecks your cheek before continuing. "Hmm, I like oppa more still. Yeah, fancy shmancy, kinda boring. You sure move fast though," Seulgi adds pointedly.
"Huh? Oh, sorry, I should get us rings soon shouldn't I, even if you can't wear it outside."
"That would be nice, but you should probably get something else too." She waves her phone at you.
Test kits, of the pregnancy kind.
"You mean— Already? How do you feel?"
"Nothing really yet, it's hard to explain, but just haven't felt fully myself this week. Maybe I caught something on the trip, but if I did, you would have caught it too right?"
"Yeah, I feel fine though, so..." You grip her hands just that little bit tighter. "It's really happening, how are you feeling? You should take it easy and rest up, I can drive you back."
"Shh, we don't know yet, don't jinx it." Seulgi leads you to the bedroom. "And since we don't know yet, we should keep trying until we're sure." You're pushed to the bed and Seulgi starts getting on top of you.
"Besides, since the trip I haven't seen you all week, so if you think I'm leaving without fucking my husband at least once you're very wrong."
You say the only thing a good husband would say in this situation.
"Yes dear."
A/N: Long overdue for an ask from best drink @friskyriskywhisky, literally one year ago sorry! Her recent pics are fire too, thanks for reading!
It's finally out! This was a bit hard for me to write because I had to minimize scene cuts and lessen the plot (this is literally porn what plot) but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. One more iz girl to go :')
Girls like Chaewon don’t belong here. They belong on Vogue covers, runways, stages before roaring audiences who clamor for her attention.
But it’s exactly what happens. And it changed your life for the worse.
That’s the only explanation for you meeting Chaewon at a party, because otherwise, it would be at risk of being labeled as fate—and boy, are those dangerous waters to explore.
And now, she’s ruffling her hair like nothing happened, having just taken a shot of something strong enough to get her ears red. You don’t know which; the party’s buzzing with probably each type of vice, liquor, and sin. You don’t usually attend parties for that reason. You don’t need a bad influence in your life when it’s so easy to get hooked onto the wrong thing.
Yet when your eyes find hers in this pool of bodies, you realize you’re just relapsing into an old dirty habit.
It’s written all over her easy smile, the way the fringe falls over her forehead. Chaewon turns up her chin and says, “Why don’t I know you?”
The audacity of this girl, really. Her voice is saccharine sweet. Her words sound like the lyrics to a siren’s song. You’re already six feet deep into the waters and she’s holding you down.
Yunjin rolls her eyes. She’s your best friend, but she’s also Chaewon’s best friend, which means she knows exactly how this is going to play out. It’s an old story. Chaewon does that seductress act, preying onto some poor guy, and the next thing she knows, they’re making out in the master bedroom.
“Oh my god, don’t tell me you’re already flirting with him.”
“I’m not flirting with him,” says Chaewon, but she’s not even looking at Yunjin, her hand already ending up on your forearm. “What do you take me for, Jennifer? A slut?”
Yunjin thoughtfully places her fingertip on her chin. “Well—”
Chaewon bursts into laughter and tells her to shut up. God, even her smile is gorgeous. She’s a goddess up close—not a pore or a blemish anywhere on that flawless skin. Her scent is faint and sweet, some fragrance you can’t buy for four digits anywhere. You hate that you notice it. It just makes you think how far behind you are to Chaewon. Girls like her don’t look at guys like you.
Hanni catches Yunjin’s attention, dressed in a heart-shaped little top and fairy boots, looking like a butterfly. She squeals when she sees Yunjin, and their reunion leaves you and Chaewon to yourselves. The tension between you grows thicker. It’s impossible to breathe.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s just jealous I get to have you.” She tilts her pretty head and squints thoughtfully. “What was your name again?”
You can’t believe she’s talking to you, out of everyone in this house party. But you tell her your name anyway, and you can already tell it’s something her mouth will keep to memory. She’s circling you like you’re prey.
Don’t you want to fight back? Don’t you want to puff out your chest and say you know exactly how girls like her work? You’re just standing there, trapped by that golden voice and deadly silhouette. You’re not even pretending you want her to fuck off.
“It’s a nice party,” continues Chaewon. “Kazuha did her big one with it. Invited all the rich guys, the buff ones, the hot ones…” She pauses her stroking on your flesh to finally look you in the eye. “Tell me, are you any of those? Because if not, I’m packing my stuff.”
“I—I’m sort of—”
The serious look is immediately shattered from her face with a gorgeous laugh. “I’m just messing with you,” Chaewon assures you. It’s a cruel thing to joke about but she’s so pretty that forgiveness is instant. “I’m here to take my mind off things like you are. I’m not trying to do anything.”
But you should know by now that Kim Chaewon is a liar. From the very first second, she lied to Yunjin, lied to you about just messing with you. Her hand brushes yours as she reaches for a drink. Then it’s on your arm. Then it’s under your chin as she talks her way into a bedroom.
You don’t stop her.
The yellow lamplight casts shadows over Chaewon, contouring her figure into a tiny silhouette on the wall. That tiny dress that reveals her back looks better in the dark. All you’re thinking is that this only ends one way, and how it shouldn’t because she’s trouble and you’ve already got problems without Kim Chaewon on your mind. What more are you looking to add?
She’s talking about her friends as she sits on the bed. And she’s got a lot of them—Yunjin, the girl she’s forever linked with; Kazuha, the biggest party girl with somehow the most innocent face, and; Sakura, who’s pretty much an introvert. She likes to stay home and crochet. It’s more fun that way, she had argued, and Chaewon rolled her eyes. This time though, she agreed to wait down in the lobby just in case anybody needed a designated driver.
“But if you ask me,” she says (you didn’t), “Eunchae dresses best among all of us. I think it’s the sort of Gen Z fashion the older girls can’t master. Knows how to do her makeup, don’t you think?”
You realize here that Chaewon is kind of full of herself, only masking it behind asking your opinions then building another story about herself from that. Every word is a plot device leading to her, the main character. It’s something you find in too many people. They think that everyone and everything orbits around them.
It’s actually a pet peeve of yours but you have to give it to her: Kim Chaewon has every right to be narcissistic. Pretty face, great body, a great bank account to back her vices. She’s the girl every guy wants and every girl wants to be. It’s probably a statement made about girls less attractive and magnetic than her, but you know at the end of the day, it’s a title that only becomes true when given to her. She’s a carnal desire, something you cry about when you confess it to a priest.
“I guess I wasn’t really looking at her,” you admit.
“Oh?” Chaewon sets her drink down. Her voice drops even lower. “Who were you looking at then?”
It’s a trap. It’s a fucking trap. But before you could tell her you’re leaving, Chaewon’s already kissing you.
She tastes like vodka and sin and everything you shouldn’t be indulging in. But you do anyway.
She gets on her knees like she’s done it plenty of times for you. You get an idea of how an angel would react when they get a taste of sin when she cums around your cock. Her eyes shut, her body curls around you like it’s the only thing in the world she can hold onto. She looks fucking perfect.
Girls like Chaewon give you heaven for a night then leave you forever. They leave you wanting more but never give it to you even if you get on your knees and pray.
But Chaewon obviously likes something about you. And come on—she’s no fucking angel anyway. You both can go to hell.
-
You have a place of your own, but most of your time nowadays is spent in Chaewon’s luxurious Gangnam apartment. You raise this concern to her as she does her makeup in the living room mirror. The lipgloss makes her lips look plusher, the mascara enlarging those pretty eyes. You raised concern over her vanity as well, but she dismissed it. You love it when I look pretty for you anyway.
(And you hated to say that she’s right. You love when she puts on lipstick that ends up all over your neck. You love when she wears the sexiest dresses of all so you can take them off. So you zipped your mouth shut and waited another hour for her to doll up.)
“Friends share, don’t they?” she replies. Her ass looks great in those cycling shorts. She said she’s going to the gym, but if she sticks her ass out at you one more time, she’d have to delay.
You laugh. “Even friends with benefits?”
“It’s in the name, baby. Friends with benefits. Your benefit is staying in this chic place with me, while my benefit is that cock of yours.”
At least she’s clear with the fact that she’s using you. Sure, she likes that you’re easy to talk to and that there are no strings attached. But the feeling of your cock in her is too good to let pass.
And right now, Chaewon’s eyeing you like she’s up to no good.
You know that look. “Now?”
“What, you think I’m just horny 24/7?”
Chaewon walks and talks like she’s willing to go against each word. Those toned, perfect legs stride over to you. Her voice is sultry enough to stir a heat inside of you that, ironically, only she can put out.
She adds fuel to the fire by sliding onto your lap, her favorite seat. The curve of her cheeks perfectly aim at your bulge. You groan as Chaewon starts to circle her hips around you, all while she looks back at you with a bite of her lip.
You close your hands around her waist. “Thought you were driving to the gym?”
“I could do a different type of exercise here instead.”
“The membership is like, a fortune per month, Chae.”
You’re struggling to get your words out already. Damn those stupid shorts. Chaewon’s practically humping you. The feel of fabric upon fabric and her plump flesh pressed against yours is dizzying.
“Doesn’t matter,” Chaewon says. Her breaths shorten but she doesn’t stop moving. The sports bra cups her tits that bounce with each rotation. “I can think of certain ways to pay it back.”
“And what could that be?”
She’s already giving you a hint with the hypnotizing sway of her hips.
The graze of your clothed cock against her clit makes Chaewon gasp. You haven’t even gotten inside her, nor have you taken off that bra that pushes up her bouncy chest. But the feel of her gyrating against you, knowing exactly how you like it, is enough to make you go over the edge.
Not yet.
Chaewon rises from your lap. You almost groan if not for the show she’s offering you this time. She makes a show of stretching upwards, drawing your eyes to her tight midriff, before turning her back to you. Her fingers hook around the hugging material of her shorts to hike them slowly down her thighs. That bubble butt almost pops out of the fabric.
Only a thong. No wonder the wetness soaked through.
She bends over a little as she shakes her cute little ass to you. You can see how wet she is, arousal sticking to the tiny thong snug between her cheeks. You quickly remove your pants as well because you know how this goes with Chaewon. She’s fucking insatiable. She never takes no for an answer.
And you never give no as an answer either. You’re a match made in hell.
“I was thinking…” Her knees dent the sofa beside your hips. With her palms on your chest, she works your cock, grinding her swollen clit on the head. Both of you gasp.
“That’s new.”
“God, shut up.” Chaewon’s whimpering now. “Y-you know how we fuck like animals, right?”
She sinks onto the first few inches, her walls pulsing and fluttering around you. You let out a deep sigh. The sight of your cock disappearing into Chaewon’s tight little pussy never gets old.
She warms your member for a few delicious seconds, her walls pulsating around you. Chaewon bites her lip and throws her head back.
“Kind of stating the obvious here, Chae.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” she says in that irresistibly cute voice. It doesn’t seem too cute anymore when you compare it to how she begins to ride you, her hips rolling forward as if she’s trying to feed her cunt more of your cock. “But who’s to say we can’t use it to our advantage?”
She isn’t even explaining herself yet but already it sounds like all sorts of bad ideas. Chaewon herself is a bad idea. You told yourself that at the party, but she ends up on your cock anyway.
Like right now: her clever hips snap downwards, and there’s that timeless feeling of her walls clenching around you. You lay back on the sofa and try to take deep breaths. Chaewon’s done this before, more than you could tally, but the way she fixes herself onto your cock feels new each time. You have to reacquaint yourself with how tight she actually is.
The toned line of Chaewon’s back arches beautifully. You can’t take your eyes off it. Your abs tighten up as her ass bounces on your cock.
“Let’s see: we’re both pretty fucking hot—” You laugh, the sound drowned out by a moan of your own. Chaewon bites her lip. “And we both have a pretty hard time keeping our hands off each other. Imagine the money we could make off that.”
Chaewon’s going faster now. Her strangled groans collide with the sound of her thighs slapping against yours.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” you ask, because the more Chaewon bounces on you, the more you can’t think of a reason it should be a bad idea.
Her melodic moans strike every chord. How she could even get words out from how hard she’s riding you, you’ve no idea. Chaewon is a strategist anyway. She knows how to make do. So she rises from your lap, letting each pulsing inch leave her cunt, before ramming them all back inside her.
You groan. Chaewon laughs, but in spite of it, her languid movements never stop. When she gyrates to and fro, you start thinking about how this is probably a ploy to get you to agree. Look, her body seems to talk to you, in all its little motions and curves, look how good it is to see me stuffed with your fat cock. Look how good you make me feel. Wouldn’t you want to see it all on camera?
You both know what the answer is.
Chaewon’s smirking. “I’m saying we should make a movie.” She starts rubbing her clit, and her breath hitches between her sultry words. “And god, baby, we don’t even have to have a script or anything. It could just be me and you, doing what we do best.”
Her voice gets higher. Her hips start to move faster, more frantically than you could handle. And lord knows you’re the only one who could handle Chaewon. If it weren’t for you, who was going to keep her satisfied?
“And you know the camera’s my best friend. I’d look good getting stuffed by that hard cock from any angle. Anyone can watch you fuck me, but they know they could never be as good as you. They could never own me like you do.”
This has to be illegal. It’s the way she’s egging you on, knowing exactly what to say to ruin you, combined with the orgasmic choreography of her hips that renders you defenseless against her. And what harm could be done? Chaewon looks great on camera, even greater when it immortalizes into pixels how her face looks when she cums. It could be something you’d look back at when you’re worked up and she isn’t there (although that rarely happens), or sell with a reminder taped onto the plastic case that she’s yours. They can watch her get her little pussy destroyed but ultimately, at the end of the day, your bed is where she ends up.
You hate to say it, but all in all it sounds like a pretty fucking good idea.
“Fuck, Chaewon…”
“Is that a yes?” she asks eagerly. The lethal grip of her pussy starts to feel overwhelming. “It’s a win-win situation… please, won’t you say yes? Please, please, please—”
You could never say no to her, honestly. Not when she turns to look back at you with those sparkling doll eyes, and definitely not when she’s milking you.
You watch your cum drip outside of her like a waterfall. It’s hard to take your eyes off it, but then there’s Chaewon’s face, sweaty and lost to bliss. Yeah, she would look great on camera. And you did remember thinking back then, when you first met Chaewon, that she was never the type of girl to not be captured by a camera lens. You admit that your idea was pictorials and Vogue covers, not porn videos.
But later on, after Chaewon goes for a shower again to clean your mess up and actually works out, you find yourself setting up an account. Of course, there needs to be a discussion of some kind of how far you actually want to go with this.
“Do you want to be like… a full-on pornstar?” you ask. The question makes your ears burn. It’s not something you’d ask the average person, but you’ve been through this a million times; Kim Chaewon is not an average girl.
It’s late afternoon and you’re on a videocall with her as she drives home. The gorgeous interior of the Mustang looks almost mediocre when put next to Chaewon’s gorgeous face.
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I’m not made for Pornhub, sorry to disappoint.”
“How is that disappointing?” you ask in disbelief.
“I dunno. A lot of people wanna see me do porn, but it’s just gonna be a side hustle for me.”
Nod as you get the verification code from her email. You realize that you share everything with Chaewon. You know all her passwords and she knows yours. Your bank accounts are intertwined with each other. It’s a bad idea, seeing as there isn’t a clear definition on what’s going on between you.
But right now, you’re literally creating an account to do porn together. It can’t get worse than that.
You pick Chaewon’s prettiest photo for the avatar—one of her in that tight Diesel top with her fingers through her hair. It parallels with the small rectangle in the corner of your screen.
“It’s asking for your age,” you tell her.
Chaewon rolls her eyes, hands tightening on the wheel. “You know the names of all the positions we’ve tried but not my birthday?”
Cowgirl at Eunbi’s house as you try to be quiet, 69 at that suite after your promotion—okay fine, maybe she has a point.
“I do know your birthday. I just can’t do math.”
“You’re an idiot,” she says. There’s sweat rolling down the sides of her face. It shines on her chest and drips down the fabric of her sports bra. You can’t stop thinking of how her skin looks so good, flushed and stretched.
Do a little mental math, eyes up to the spiralling ceiling fan. “Was I still an idiot when I made you cum thrice last night?”
Chaewon’s face burns red. The memory’s still fresh in that pretty little head of hers. “Shut up. Just fix my account and I’ll call Minju to give us advice later.”
“Park Minju or—”
“Please use your head for once. Is there another Minju who’s both a friend of mine and a pornstar?”
Alright, so she’s talking about Kim Minju. Pretty face, cute voice, thighs that could crush you. The girl’s a socialite who only does all the indie films for fun—the talent fees mean nothing to her.
That’s probably why she does the whole porn thing so well. Top creator minjugato.__. earns millions a month from just a camera, her bed, and another girl. She’s fulfiled a whole niche: not too famous to get into an actual scandal, not too invisible for the common guy to recognize her from a small platform movie and think hey, I don’t mind paying for this.
You look at her slim, composed figure fixed on the edge of your own bed. “How long have you been doing this?”
Minju smiles. “Not long enough,” she says teasingly, leaning over the PC. She’s typing in a caption for your first livestream. So far she’s helped you get a fair amount of followers with a helpful promotion post.
minjugato.__.: hi all!!! any weekend plans? :3
mine is to watch my best friend ssamuwon’s new movie later tonight. maybe you should come by!! it’s pretty explicit but i don’t think that would be a problem 👀
The stats rise by the minute. Five thousand people await Chaewon’s debut to start. Everytime you look away the number seems to get higher. There’s clear demand for Chaewon, the hottest girl in Gangnam, perhaps even the whole of South Korea itself.
No need for second-guessing. Chaewon’s in your lap, wearing the tiniest tube top known to man. You’ve seen her in less clothes and without them completely but this one’s just explicit. It accentuates her waist and lets a little skin show before her black shorts—somehow even tinier—hug her hips.
It’s no wonder at all she managed to convince you to fuck her for work. They’ve said to avoid capitalizing off your hobbies, but let the record show that you won’t ever get tired of fucking Chaewon.
Minju makes a final click on your keyboard. “You’re live in five minutes. I set up a few ground rules in the corner just in case they get wild.” She fires you a wink.
Chaewon reads the box of rules sent in the chat, pinned to the top of the stream. It’s all pretty basic. No scat, no invasion of privacy, just the usual. Minju conveniently added that requests paired with high donations are prioritized. You shudder. What would the viewers make you do to Chaewon? There’s too many fantasies to pick from.
“Thanks for helping me slut myself out, Minju,” says Chaewon with a smile too sweet for what she just said.
It doesn’t faze Minju at all. She actually laughs, the crease of her eyes making her look like a sly fox. “You know what they say: you have to learn from the best.”
Oh, the best, alright: Minju’s videos speak for themselves. They’ve gotten billions of views, spread across every social media platform to the point she had to commission someone for a watermark. It’s all good publicity anyway. More people watching meant more traction and discovery of her account.
The air in your room is thick with excitement. The ringlight casts a perfect shadow over Chaewon’s body. There she is, much smaller than you while your shadow alone could overpower here.
And of course, Minju’s hourglass shape is there as well. It doesn’t look like she’s leaving anytime soon. You honestly don’t mind it.
One minute to showtime. Chaewon holds your face in her hands. She’s as flawless as the day you met: perfect skin, thick lashes, eyes that could kill. There’s an evil smile sewn on those glossed lips.
“You ready, baby?” she asks. You’ve often wondered how she does that: she could speak in her usual high, cheerful voice most of the time but when the world dissolves to nothing more than you and these sheets, it drops to this ridiculously sexy low note. She’s insane. She’s unpredictable. But she’s also the sexiest woman you know.
If you had to be honest—
“Never been more ready.”
Chaewon is actually the perfect girl for this job.
When it comes to porn, it has to be specific. Every detail should be. The average viewer looks for something that they can’t get anywhere and it’s her job to be that. When every comment’s assumption about her is different, she has to put on a multitude of faces, all to keep their interest.
And it comes as nothing to her.
anonymous_lurk_79: she’s way too cute to be on here
NumberOneMinjuLuver replied: it’s the cute ones that are the freakiest
i said the same thing about minju
The red light blinks beside the lens. So does Chaewon, getting on her knees before the camera and batting her lashes. She’s whatever they want to be.
“Hello, is this thing on?” Chaewon smiles sweetly, as if she isn’t discussing being fucked for an audience of seven thousand and counting. “It’s my first time doing this stuff. I hope you all go easy on me.”
She looks up at you then at your growing erection. She giggles. “But I hope this one here goes as hard as he likes.”
Minju giggles, too. Chaewon was a natural.
“Shall we start?” she asks. “How do you want me?”
mingmingult: she looks a lot like the girl in minjugato’s videos
whenidiethr0wmyphoneintheocean donated $****: suck his cock first like a good girl
Four digits already?
Chaewon does as she’s told. She wraps her small hand around your cock, giving it a few hypnotic strokes. Feels like your heart is beating right there in her palm, too. She could feel every hot throb of arousal.
She then wraps her luscious lips around your cock and starts to suck. She suckles on the first few inches, letting her tongue dance around the sensitive bits, before she moves on to take more. You can see her shorts ride further down her ass as she pushes her face on your cock.
You pick up the camera and generously give the viewers a POV shot. Chaewon blinks slowly at the camera, breaking the fourth wall, and sits on her heels so they could see some of her cleavage. She looks even more enticing and tight in this angle. Try to keep your breaths controlled so it doesn’t drown out the sloppy sounds of Chaewon making out with your cock.
“Such a good little slut,” you murmur. Use your other hand to grab Chaewon’s short hair. She moans happily. Her seductive chuckle vibrates and sends ripples of electricity throughout your body.
1800hotnfun donated $****
Chaewon sloppily presses more of your length down her throat. Her breaths arrive shorter. You have no idea if she’s looking at you or the camera. You get the advantage either way; the juxtaposition of those large innocent eyes and the way she’s blowing you could make any man cum in seconds.
nsfwizone donated $**
69__jonginkang donated $*****: what a fucking tease
ANTIFRAGILENTHUSIAST donated $******: need to see this pretty little whore’s mouth filled w my cum
That would answer your rent for the next few months, with money on the side to really get this gig going. Plus, Minju did say that large donation requests should be prioritized.
And if whoever this guy was wanted to see Chaewon with cum overflowing from her lips, then so be it.
Your grip on Chaewon’s hair borders on painful. You pull it back, angling her chin upwards. Film from the side and the viewers could see how your cock dents Chaewon’s throat, rapidly filling it up again and again. Her nipples are already hard. Her lips provide a tight suction, her hands on your waist an anchor for balance.
You’re really giving it to her now. Chaewon’s helpless little whimpers do things to you, and apparently to the other eight thousand viewers wishing they were in your shoes. The chat is filled with obscenities. The donations rank up higher. Everyone’s waited far too long to see Kim Chaewon get her face fucked.
If it hurts, Chaewon doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even push you away or tap out. She lies there with her knees red and grazed, taking every shot you eventually pour into her waiting mouth. Each swift plunge makes her tits bounce in that tight top. Your cum fills her soft cheeks to the brim.
The flash makes the tears in Chaewon’s eyes sparkle. “Did you get every drop?” you ask.
Chaewon nods.
“Show me.”
She looks directly at the camera as she opens her mouth. As expected, you’re given a view of the pool of semen she kept for herself. She swallows it all obediently.
pipipi: fuck that was so hot
Bunnybaby: we have a new supreme
You look at Minju for approval. It’s tens across the board for her—she looks flushed, squirming on the chair. There’s a lazy smile on her face.
“Was I a good girl?’’ Chaewon asks. The chat responds quickly. It’s flooded with emojis, donations, and dirty remarks. “Shouldn’t I get a reward for swallowing your cum?”
What reward? There’s a million things you want to do to her. You could bend her over the bed, creampie her, then fuck her ass until her cheeks are red. The possibilities are endless.
You look at the stream for suggestions. One particularly dirty comment points out how hard Chaewon’s nipples are, poking through the tube top in need of attention.
Chaewon reads it, too. Her fingers run up the shape of her figure coyly. “Can Chaewonie touch herself, please?”
She cups her boobs, slowly placing her fingers over the soft flesh. A groan immediately leaves her used mouth. She makes sure to look at the camera when she bites her lip.
She pushes the top down until it bunches just below her perfect breasts. The fabric pushes up her tits even more, as if coaxing the spotlight to focus on them.
She starts to pinch her nipples, tweaking and pulling them like they were made to be. You can see her getting worked up already. Each roll of her fingers over the hard nubs makes her soak through her lace panties. The little sounds she makes could kill you.
“Please?” Chaewon pouts. “I’m so, sooo sensitive. Can you help me out, daddy?”
You don’t have to say anything for her to know your answer. Your job is to be silent after all. It’s Chaewon they’re paying for, not you.
You set the camera back in its place and gently push Chaewon to the mattress. You tower over her. You’re taller, bigger, stronger; and it’s even clearer when there’s the lack of proximity between the two of you. She could barely reach your shoulders. It’s the little things like that the audience looks for.
It’s the little things like that which set you off.
Chaewon looks good in any angle. She constantly proves that with her Instagram photos, where even closeups make her look like a goddess. But she looks the best when she’s underneath you, writhing for your touch.
You don’t stall more than you need to. The hot kisses on her neck are just foreplay. You attach your lips to a stiff nipple. She arches her back, but you keep her pinned to the soft cloud that is your mattress—she’s not going anywhere yet. You make sure of that by pinching the other nipple, giving both sensitive breasts equal attention.
“F-fuck…” Chaewon’s whimper is nearly inaudible. The rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic. She pushes her tits into your hand as you lick and suck. “You’re so good at that.”
You’re not selling yourself short, but these easy reactions are easily drawn from the fact that she’s sensitive. Dangerously so. The trail of your hand across her body leaves one of goosebumps. The thrill of getting her face fucked still runs high, and you discovered early on that the easiest way to make Chaewon melt was play with her tits.
You squeeze her hard enough to make her whine. But your other hand’s grown tired of kneading her breast. It’s more interested in the soaked patch of arousal in the center of Chaewon’s shorts. Her legs immediately lock around your wrist, making you finish what you started. You can’t just play with her nipples then leave her to fend for herself.
“Don’t stop,” Chaewon gasps. Your digits start to work between her legs. Her thighs tremble and her breath hitch in that particular way that drives you wild. The tight fabric of the shorts makes it difficult for you to intensify your movements, but you make do. Chaewon deserves to get fucked within an inch of her life. It’s what she so desperately wants anyway.
It shows in how she’s pushing herself up against you, tangling her fingers in your hair, hoisting her hips up so you could go deeper. The wet squelch of your fingers driving into her cunt is deafening. It makes her blush, but she’s got no reason to be ashamed. The viewers love it. They’re throwing money at her and betting on how fast she can cum.
Chaewon finally makes a mess on your fingers and screams at the top of her lungs, shaking and whining. When the bliss overtakes her features, you suddenly become sure of something:
You’re about to be the richest guy on the planet.
-
“Jesus.” Minju claps her hands together, looking very impressed. “You two are naturals.”
It’s been three days since Chaewon’s debut, but the profit you made could fit five months. Chaewon’s doll eyes go wide seeing the numbers on the screen. You’re surprised as well at the followers you got in so little time. Other creators needed months of work to get this kind of traction.
“This is insane,” you say. Hand Minju a cup of tea while Chaewon measures the damage she did on the internet. Mini tabloids are going crazy. And of course, people on your street are starting to look at her differently. They know too much about what goes on inside Chaewon’s luxury apartment, but they can’t tell the world how they found out.
Minju accepts the cup gracefully. For someone who’s been doing this for so long, she’s massively impressed by the quick success. Chaewon’s follower count will match hers in little time.
“I knew we were gonna do well, but not like this,” you tell her. “Thanks for all the help, Minju.”
Chaewon giggles. “Not that we needed any.”
“Little brat can’t even be grateful,” you say disapprovingly. Chaewon pouts, but doesn’t look regretful in the slightest.
Minju’s laugh is as charming as she is. “She’s not wrong. I don’t think getting money would be a problem, but you have to keep the hype going. You don’t want to peak so early.”
She sounds like a PR manager for all the beautifully fucked up films you’re going to make with Chaewon. You trust her word, though. This was a woman who knows what she’s talking about.
Chaewon studies her nails, painted hot pink and only long enough to scratch your back. “Maybe we could open up requests.”
“That’s a good idea,” Minju agrees. “People would pay a lot to see you live out their fantasies.” She sits back on your couch. A look of amusement crosses her face. “One time a guy paid me five hundred for feet pics.”
You raise your brows. “Feet pics?”
Minju doesn’t recognize the implication and only shrugs it off. You couldn’t believe people were actually into feet. It sounds pretty mild to Minju. She’s probably been made to do worse. “It’s easy money. He could’ve gotten videos with that amount.”
Chaewon thinks of that for a second. It doesn’t sound too bad. It would take less effort than setting up a camera and managing through violent orgasms. But she thinks she likes the latter more anyway.
She used to hear older people give her advice when she was a student. They said to make money off what she liked to do, and she’d never have to work a day in her life. She smirks. How would they react if she told them how she made her money now?
“You could paywall the more intense stuff,” Minju’s suggesting now. “Don’t ever downplay how good you’re doing. If people want to pay for it and would pay for it, let them. But don’t post too often. You want to keep them wanting more.”
“Biweekly sound fine?” Chaewon asks. Oh, she’s serious about this. You wonder how you’ll survive the next week.
“Perfect, actually.”
You butt in the conversation for a moment. “What about equipment?” Sure, you had a ringlight and a PC, but there’s nothing more. You imagine that this would take a lot of work and stuff, like a professional camera and neon lights.
Chaewon was wondering about that as well. She looks at Minju, who shakes her head, much to your surprise.
“You won’t have to worry about that. The average person isn’t going to Pornhub anymore to get off. They want something unscripted now.”
Minju’s fox eyes dart pointedly at the two of you. “They want something real,” she stresses.
Her gaze is sharp with accusation. Chaewon laughs and rests her head on your shoulder. You don’t say a word to deny it.
-
Just in case anybody clutches their pearls over it, you’ll clarify here that you still have pretty normal jobs. You’re not totally prostituting yourselves for money, although you hate to use that term and you’re not desperate for the extra income.
You work a corporate job and volunteer at your nearest charity when you have time on your hands. (Taking note of the latter is advice you have to take yourself because it seems you live off sin 24/7.) It allows you to split the rent with Chaewon and buy food.
As for Chaewon, she also works a regular job. You think? Wait, you realized that you have no idea what she does for a living. You simply assumed that with all her vices and expensive clothes, she must have a job keeping her busy somewhere.
Come to think of it, you’ve never heard her complain about work. It’s been a while since you moved in and got to know each other, but all the sticky notes about deadlines on the fridge are yours.
“Chaewon, I have something I want to ask you.”
She turns to you, her legs swinging off the seat at the bar. You gulp. All of her beautiful legs are on display thanks to that tiny brown dress. The only things that bother saving anything to the imagination are her boots.
That stitched cowboy hat too, if it counts. And it does the opposite of what it should. It makes you think of how well it matches her dress, and the way it makes her look like a cowgirl who could ride—
“Yes?” she says, still bopping her head to the music.
“Where the hell do you get all your money?”
Chaewon ponders over this for some time, then takes a sip of her margarita. “Oh, I don’t know.” Seeing the surprise on her face nearly makes her spit her drink out from laughing. “Seriously, I don’t know! I think it just shows up in my bank account. I guess our little collaboration helps, too.”
She winks at you. Your breaths shorten.
Nope. Just because she’s the hottest girl alive doesn’t mean she can lie to you. “Liar.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“What was I supposed to think, Chae?” you say as diplomatically as you can. You gesture to your surroundings. “We’re in one of the most expensive bars in Hongdae where the fucking senators’ kids create scandals. You’re wearing another designer set.”
You had a point. Chaewon shrugs off the offense she took. “My fault for assuming you’d think about anything other than me in this dress.”
She stands up and twirls around. The skirt floats around her thighs. Those safety shorts are way too tiny to be considered safe. Chaewon gets a hit out of teasing you though, grinning when the realization registers on your face.
“Don’t you want to take pics of me?” asks Chaewon with a pout. She doesn’t wait for your answer and hands you her phone. It’s the latest one, pink and sleek. “So we have content to upload later!”
While you have qualms about taking pictures of Chaewon in her ridiculously provocative outfit, she’s right. It’s been a few days since your last upload. Minju said it was important not to post too often, but too long in between posts could throw your followers off.
So here you are again, playing the role of a photographer. You snap several photos of her within minutes. Chaewon switches between poses like they’re nothing. You have one where she’s bent slightly over the bar, a finger on her lips as she looks coyly at her short skirt. There’s one in the bathroom where she looks at the mirror instead of the lens. She’s holding the cowboy hat on her head and winking.
All that skin, that shameless seductiveness… it feels like you’re getting drunk off of these sexy photos instead of the alcohol. Chaewon is too hot for you to handle.
You return to your private booth to upload them. What would she do without you? You’re her fuckbuddy, best friend, and social media manager all at the same time.
anyone know where i can find a ride? ❣️🤠
It’s difficult to think of a good caption. Choosing which photos to post is ruining you. Not to mention the filtering to bring out the brown of her eyes and the sunlight. It makes you stall. You have to keep staring. You have to take note of every detail, every delicious curve of her body. Images of Chaewon posing, winking, and showing off are burned forever into your mind.
Your hands shake as you hit post. Turn your phone off. Focus on having a good time and dancing and singing and whatever you do, do not take another look at those pictures.
“Oh, you poor thing.”
Oh no.
Chaewon sounds smug as ever as she takes a seat on your lap. “Hard already? We aren’t even in the bedroom.”
You don’t need this right now. Getting an erection could not come at a more inconvenient time. You can’t say anything provided that you can’t even meet her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” she purrs. “I’m gonna take care of that.”
There’s a hunger in Chaewon that needs to be satiated today. You can see the fire in her eyes as she pulls you out and wraps a fist around your stiff cock. The sight of her small, dainty hand compared to your shaft is provocative by itself. Those large, deceptively innocent eyes stay on yours while she drags her delicious touch up and down, preparing you for her.
“Been needing you so bad lately…”
Chaewon lifts her hips slightly. She allows your cock to rub between her slick folds, teasing at her entrance but never quite giving her what she needs. Her breath hitches when you hit her clit.
“Promise to fill me all the way up,” she whines. “Don’t leave a single drop.”
You wouldn’t dare. There hasn’t been any penetration yet the wetness of her puffy lips feels like heaven. In your hands, her core works her waist into circles. More precum ends up grinding and mixing between your sexes.
Chaewon whimpers. “Promise me.”
“Fuck, gonna fill this pussy up, Chaewon.” Her nipples poke through the thin bikini. Her grinding grows more desperate as you groan out your obscene promise. “Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Just ride my cock like the pretty little fuckdoll you are.”
She can’t take it anymore. Chaewon slams herself down on your cock in one go.
The stretch hurts so good. Her head throws back with a breathy moan. Her soft walls immediately hold onto you, throbbing and needy.
The music is a dull thump through the walls. You could feel the bass in your heart time with Chaewon’s bouncing. Her back is against the door.
“There,” she gasps. “Right there, don’t stop…”
Her eyes are dim with pleasure. You bring a hand up to pinch and roll her nipple, circling the taut peak with your thumb. Immediately Chaewon’s internal muscles clench around you like a vise.
Her hips start to lift and dance in a little choreography of an impending orgasm. You hold her down, pinning her to your lap while you thrust up in her. The tightness becomes harder to push past through. She’s so tense that you have to rub your thumb against her clit to get her to relax.
Your eyes meet. Jesus, she was a sight for sore eyes. The toasty, sunkissed color of her makeup makes her look like she’s blushing. The two of you are flushed either way. There’s forbidden excitement in knowing one of the servers could walk in here at any moment and see Chaewon riding you harshly. You shouldn’t be doing this here. There were important people who could raise this complaint to the higher-ups and get you banned forever.
You can stop the bullshit. When has hesitation saved you from getting in trouble? When has anything convinced you not to fuck Kim Chaewon?
-
You didn’t even mean to execute this request so well.
It just so happens that this is how a day in your life looks like with Kim Chaewon. While they pay to place themselves in your shoes and see it happen, you’re the one who actually gets to touch her.
A guy who went by the username hanyoooojin sent a large amount of money the moment Chaewon announced requests. Unlike the other ones who filled up the rest of the slots, he didn’t want anything overly specific.
Netflix and chill anyone? 😉
That was the caption you set for the video. It’s something enticing even with its simplicity, and come on, people would watch anything if it had Chaewon in it.
The camera records everything. It starts out with Chaewon dressed in your shirt. It’s way too big on her, and if the fabric were any more see-through, it would be clear she only had a bra on. She’s lying next to you on your bed as a movie plays on your TV.
The volume is low, almost to complete silence. It’s only static background noise to what’s going to happen.
Chaewon snuggles against you. Her body is already warm. But she does a good job of acting like she’s interested in the movie. She called it boring a million times before, and you remain convinced it was an attention span issue.
“I fucking hate when movies are slow,” she had said. She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of making me wait thirty minutes for something exciting to happen?”
“Sounds a lot like you to hate taking things slow,” you replied easily, earning you a punch in the shoulder.
Maybe that’s why her hand slips under the blanket a little too early. You’re supposed to be a sweet domestic couple. It’s just a role you have to play for cash to come in. Chaewon’s the sweet girlfriend and you’re the boyfriend who still wants to hang out with her even when you’re exhausted. You watch a movie together, as requested, pretending you have no idea of what she’s about to do.
Her creamy thighs folded against each other hide her wetness. Chaewon’s become a master at angles. She knows to lift the blanket a little above your thighs so the camera captures her hand in your shorts.
You look down at what she’s doing and laugh. “Thought you wanted to watch a movie,” you say.
Her lazy strokes work you to full mast. You remind yourself that this was supposed to be unhurried, but there was no delaying gratification around Chaewon.
Chaewon takes her eyes briefly off the screen to smile at you. “I do.” Her voice is soft and unfazed. She looks adorable in those puppy pajamas. It really sells the fantasy. “But I can do two things at once, can’t I?”
Her thumb circles your tip with maddening precision. Chaewon kisses you with the same gentleness she uses to jack you off. You can tell she’s struggling not to pounce on you. This isn’t the kind of sex she was used to. Sex for Chaewon was trading orgasms until one of you confessed you ran short.
For this one, she has to keep herself sane. She has to be tender with it. She takes your hand, squeezes it in hers, and places it right where she needs you. The tiny pajama shorts allow easy access to her cunt.
“Just keep watching,” she whispers.
The hair at the back of your neck stands up. Your lips find Chaewon’s again. You run your fingers up and down her slick folds while she jerks you off. Aside from a few heavy breaths and twitches of her tight body, she doesn’t take her eyes off the movie. She’s equal parts engrossed by it and focused on getting you off.
Chaewon’s voice runs into a whine as you go faster. Her thighs start to get messy with her own arousal. It’s taking everything in her not to strip off this shirt and ride you. She can do that later, something even the audience can’t pay to see.
Even though you’re needy and throbbing in the soft grip of her fist, you smirk. “What’s the matter, baby? I thought you said we should focus on the movie.”
Chaewon is still intent on keeping up the pretense. But it’s clear she wants this, too, the handjob no longer the unhurried routine she initiated.
You thrust your fingers against that sweet spot she’s been aching for you to reach. Chaewon’s body curls around you tightly. Her fingernails find purchase scratching on your forearm.
She can’t do this any longer. You’re the only actor she can watch now. Her gaze seals onto yours as her movements grow more frantic, like she’s willing you to do the same. You have one common goal here, really. It’s evident from the precum leaking onto her wrist, her cunt pulsing around your digits. This could only end one way.
That’s one of the many requests you and Chaewon fulfill. Besides the need for real stamina, especially for longer videos, it’s actually not that taxing. It’s no construction job anyway, but fucking Chaewon comes easily to you. It takes no work at all when it’s as natural as improv.
Over the weeks, you get people tipping generously just for photos, and you remember what Minju said about them. People paid a lot to see a pretty girl naked and doing whatever they wanted.
“It’s up to you if you want to do them,” you remind Chaewon. It’s one of those lazy afternoons where you’d rather bask in the airconditioning than do anything productive. While you’re fully conscious, your body’s still in sleep mode, draped in the duvet and Chaewon’s form.
Chaewon rolls her eyes. You don’t really see it since she’s clicking away at her phone, but you know her so well that it’s like watching a movie you got a first look at unfold. “Look at you getting all mushy. I told you I don’t break easily.”
You know that, too. You’ve folded her in half and split her legs apart so many times, but you learned not to let her small stature fool you. In no makeup and just an oversized shirt and shorts, Chaewon’s the most antifragile person you know.
You wave a hand in the air. “Of course you won’t break down. You’re the most dick-addicted girl in the world.” Chaewon snorts at that. “But we’re doing homemade porn for a reason. This isn’t a corporate or something. You don’t have to do every request there is.”
Chaewon sees where this is leading up to. She shuts her phone and shifts on the bed, the ocean blue sheets rustling above her. Her arms rest on your stomach.
She tilts her head to the side like a puppy. There’s an amused smile on her face.
“First of all, you should stop worrying so much,” she tells you. The faux sternness in her tone shouldn’t be this cute. “And second of all, nobody’s making me do anything I don’t want to do. I’m a big girl, you don’t have to worry about me.”
Right. It should be common sense already. Chaewon’s always done things of her own accord. She’s not the malleable type of girl who takes no trouble to convince. It’s honestly one of the traits you admire about her outside of the bedroom. Maybe, if you had Chaewon’s heart of steel or one-track mind, you wouldn’t have let her fuck you at that party. You wouldn’t be in this bed with her.
But god, were you glad you’re here.
You lose yourself in these thoughts for barely five seconds and she’s already suddenly too close. One wrong move and you’d end up kissing her. There’s that warmth again, radiating from her body in what you figured to identify as a sign. You get one too many good omens from Chaewon.
“And you know what I really, really want to do?” she asks breathily. Every word is a sultry huff against your lips.
Very few could stand a chance against her. You think it’s why she likes you so much and keeps you around, regardless if she’d admit it. You’re the only guy who could look her in the eye like you are right now and reply, “Do I even have to guess?”
It doesn’t take long for it to happen. These spontaneous sessions are becoming a bad habit. But how can you help yourself when Chaewon looks like that? You’ve no defense against those lithe legs and tight midriff, much less against that even tighter pussy.
It just so happens all this looks great on camera.
You close the gap between you until it feels like your bodies are bonded together. They’re impossible to break apart. You have one hand closed around Chaewon’s wrists, the other on her hip. The pillow muffles her screams as you thrust into her mindlessly. Her ass is sore and red.
“God, all that talk was for nothing, wasn’t it?” It’s always worth it in the end. You completely own her. Her pussy was just made for your cock, clinging wetly onto your girth and doing so even tighter when you back it out. “You just wanted to rile me up so I can show you you’re my good little slut, taking my dick like you were born to do.”
Chaewon’s crying out, messy little sounds tumbling out of her drooling lips. The pillowcase bears her weight and those tears of bliss. The truth is she wouldn’t trade this for anything else. She could spend all her life on the end of your length, whining her tiny waist into your palms and her ass perked and ready for you. She wouldn’t know what to do without hearing the sound of your skin snapping against hers.
“Feels so—fucking—good!” Chaewon sobs into the pillow. Senseless words are all you could fuck out of her. She can’t think much when you have your dizzying grip on her wrists like that or when you’re completely destroying her tight hole. “I’m just your personal cumdump, I’m all yours, you’re going so fucking fast—”
She’s absolutely dripping around you. Her body responds to you so well because this is exactly how she likes being fucked. She likes being fucked as if you’re trying to get her cunt to memorize the shape of your member. Not one spot on her body is left untouched. Her pussy tightens dangerously when you drive up into her cunt and those messy moans could be heard even with the fabric against her mouth.
And it’s incredible without all the lighting and ignoring the camera blinking next to you. You’ve got a great view: Chaewon bent over and her ass up on the bed, the hourglass shape of her waist to her hips even more appealing from this angle, and her toned back shining with sweat. Her tits swing back and forth in response to the force you’re taking out on her. It could make any man go crazy.
You should’ve known to put towels on the bed, because the ending’s always the same when Chaewon feels the entirety of your control, when she’s being fed every thick inch of your cock, being handled like she’s nothing but a doll to release into—
“Oh my god!” Chaewon cries out, the lightning before the thunder, the thunder before the storm. Her scream is equal parts bliss and awe—she’s shaking all over, and the swift deep drills of your cock draw out her squirt.
Neither of you expect it. The sharp sound of it makes you slow down. She hasn’t stopped pushing her ass into you. The puddle gets on your thighs and hers, splattering on the sheets. You feel suspended in mid-air staring at the mess she’s making. It feels even more surreal knowing you did it to her.
Chaewon collapses forward, her cheek against the softness of the pillow. It’s ridiculous how good she looks in spite of the messy hair and kiss-swollen lips. Always the temptress. The camera shines light on her exhausted, satisfied simper.
And of course, there’s the evidence that will prove this happened. It will back you up even if Chaewon randomly decides not to post this video on the internet or worse, call everything off. The fresh mess she left on the blanket—the same one you had just been cuddling in a few hours earlier—is all the proof you’ll need.
Chaewon laughs breathlessly. She arches her back beautifully as she pulls away from your cock. It’s the perfect ending scene.
-
All entertainment industries are parallel to each other in a way. You could work in film (legitimate films, by the way—not whatever you and Chaewon are making), music, or K-pop but what they don’t tell you is they all work the same. They manufacture and process things that appeal to the consumer. You could play the usual tropes, tunes, or concepts. Go down the loveteam road or make another generative pop song. If you’re brave enough, you can search for a niche and make it your brand.
You can do anything—release an Oscar-winning film or write a critically acclaimed album, pick your poison. It all boils down to one thing everyone is looking for anyway:
A big break.
It will solidify your place in the industry and make sure you stay there, and if not, it makes sure you get a higher spot. A big break would earn you a loyal amount of followers and more money in your pocket. Very few get their big break. Some, although deserving, don’t get theirs at all.
In Chaewon’s situation, her big break was that video. Everyone’s talking about it and everyone’s absolutely obsessed with it. You see it posted in places you don’t expect seeing it: Instagram group chats, the NSFW side of Twitter, and the first Google result that pops up when you search Chaewon’s name. It’s gotten so much traction that you start putting a watermark of her username over the videos, along with a link to her social media profiles should they ever get crossposted again.
It’s an overnight success. You grin when you see Minju’s messages, supportive as always.
minjugato.__.:
Hi chaewon <3 you’re a star!!!! so proud of you for doing well on your own
i always knew you could do it
if you ever wanna collab w me, hmu! i’ve got a great idea thats going to break the internet
lmk if you’re up for it. for old times’ sake, right? ;)
And fool me three times, and you’ll end up with a bad stomach from food poisoning by looking at your wife.
–
This would be very apparent from the dinner leaving a horrible taste in your mouth. Even with the five-course meal curated by the most fine dry-aged meats, the savory dishes spliced in immaculate presentation, and the fine refreshments of dessert after, you can’t help but feeling-
Sick.
The dinner had been pure, psychological torture from the moment you walked in. In kindness, you’ve excused yourself with a fist in your pocket, reaching for a pack of smokes as a way of coping (or in this case: relapsing). It’s safe to deduce that you’d be better off away from the crowd of people inside and finding solitude outside on the balcony at the long end of a corridor.
While the quick bliss of smoke, corroding your lungs with every puff and pass, it oddly clears your mind while staring out into the distance. It all hits you in quick flickers - flashbacks blinding you in a mixture of regret and wanting of reconciliation: the image of a woman with her hair swept so beautifully, wearing a dress with thin straps that look like they could fall off her shoulders so easily, standing in front of you with your hands wrapped around her hip ever-so slightly.
One cigarette goes, and another comes. You can’t stop your twitching hands. She definitely saw it, even from a distance. Staring at the ground a few floors up and the gentle breeze soothing your mind as the two women glanced at you from across the table - how one of them quickly put it altogether.
Despite how cushy the job was, it was literal hell trying to keep your sanity in check with all these women twisting your mind into a man fucked-
“I take one good look at you and think you’ll just throw yourself off the building,” a voice grabs one ear from behind, seeing the very woman who might as well point the gun at you and fire at your head, her face just as gloriously cold like the night, bare shoulders and thighs exposed beneath the slit of her dress.
For one, you’re leering - though not too much - since it’s best not to ogle and give into the urge to consume her entire look, ‘cause the girl’s close but still so far out of reach. Ripping into your stare before your eyes dart elsewhere. “Why are you here, Dahyun?”
“You look out of it, so I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
Surprisingly, it’s dangerously appreciative of the concern, but you know well her silent anger is enough to kill a world leader if the cards aren’t played right. “Cut the bullshit, babe. I know.”
She blinks, pulls her lips flat. “Okay. Then-”
For the record: you’re an idiot. A complete fucking imbecile at that. Yet it’s in just the general nature for a man like you to give into desires that you shouldn’t be bothered by in the first place-
“How long, hm?”
-to be at an end recuperating such a sinful act. And you’re about to experience Dahyun reaping the absolute benefits of it.
“You have to understand,” you plead. “It wasn’t my fault-”
“Save it,” she says, her tone remaining calm; pitying your sorrows (in mourning for breaking the vow you swore at the altar). Reaching, Dahyun steps forward; not in anger, you think. But rather, willing to get the whole story before she comes to her own verdict of the situation. “First Momo, now Sana’s trying to get a piece of you for herself again. I always knew.”
God, she’s your own grim reaper looking deathly beautiful beneath the shining moon, her dress hugging the curves delicately that you can’t help but surf along them with your eyes. You’ve got this smoky look in your eyes which she notices - and she knows what they could mean, because she can’t break her gaze away.
“What exactly are you defending here, dub?” You mumble, a hurtful plea, just the thought of Dahyun (and Sana) is making you lose your mind more than just being disappointed with yourself, a part of you that wishes to take everything back and fill that craving of her that’s all-consuming.
Dahyun’s got no words to suffice, because it’ll just be a revolving door of the same issues over and over again. She can’t help herself, in the way you look at her and how she reciprocates it, like you’re back to wanting her after being pulled away from other beautiful women that are just as equally whipped for her. They can get you all they want, but Dahyun’s yours at the end of the day, drinking in your eyes; kissing you because she’s yours.
Against red wine and tobacco and you told Dahyun that you’d quit being a chainsmoker, but your tongue slips into hers and she’s falling in love with the very same mouth that did so from the beginning. Your hands grasp around her waist desperately, feigning less care that you’d rip the dress right off of her body; a drastic engulfing as if you’d never want to let her go. Dahyun’s feet then get her pinned against the wall, shrouded away from the world where you’d let your deepest sins rise from the darkness - kiss her until she begs to breathe once more, hushed through slack lips: “Everyone here drives me crazy, including you.”
It was never meant to be this sort of cruel reminder or notion of how things are; no, not even in the slightest. In the end, she’s the one who’s got the ring on her finger and you’re hung up on whether yours should be taken off or not. “I was angry with you once, but not anymore” she whispers, lips stuck in this heated inferno when you descend down the lower parts of her neck.
Kissing her pulse, the tip of your nose brushes her cheek. “We both know that’s a lie and you know it,” you say, “You know it; I know it. Why don’t you confront Sana and see what she says about this.” Since this has been a revolving door of many occurrences and girls falling in and out of your arms; though the one who has always stayed is keeping you right where you are. “What could she say, hm?” You propose, blindly angered.
“What could she say? As if she wasn’t the one to find out about you and Momo in the first place-”
“And you remember when she called me that night,” you grin, “Yeah you scare me sometimes, but I don’t fear you. Not when you’re like this.” A shrug is what you give when your hands claim her wrists, raising them higher above her head. “Everyone wants a piece of me just as much as they want a piece of you.”
Dahyun’s gaze freezes, watching as you make way a familiar path of placing an ear to her breasts. “I get that, but-”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
“Even if I were to say something, what difference would it make with the others? When Momo got you-”
“The first time was already rough as it is,” you grumble, “It’s not like I’m being shunned, am I? Besides; they don’t have me. You do.” Your eyes shimmer in hers. “So what if I’m being passed around like a boytoy-”
Dahyun’s shoulders loosen from your gripped wrists. “Maybe this was a mistake,” she sighs. “I shouldn’t have checked on you.” In lieu of saying: you’re fucking inssufferable is what you are - she blinks right through your face.
So: to hell with it. Fuck everything and everyone is the best presumption.
She tries to leave, but you don’t let her, keep her confined to the corner. “What do you think you’re gonna do? Who are you gonna go to? Sana? What would she say?” You ask, eyes narrowed.
“No. But I might if you don’t let-”
“Let go? Wow. I thought you’d stay and watch me wallow in my emotions.” Dahyun scoffs at this, since there've been many ‘disagreements’ before. Even when Jihyo made way to you that other time at an event like this, Dahyun was pissed. Your hands find solace at her hips, rustling fabric to skin. “I’d never let you off that easy.”
You hear her breath shorten as she tries to wriggle out of your touch; drinking in the dark, salacious intent your eyes pool out. “Babe- wait. We can’t, no. Not like this,” she says suddenly, because she knows what’s about to happen - even more humbling and pathetic to her own mind - much less of a plea or surrender in your name. Trying to break free from your hands but you raise hers high; higher actually.
“Didn’t you want to see how I was holding up?” You murmur, breath warm and lavicious. “For the record: I wasn’t doing okay until you came around.” There’s truth to this statement, overshadowed by the sneer in your tone. Your fingers slip in the opening of her dress, at her waist while the other cups her ass. “I could tell it was bothering you the way you slammed your glass on the table.”
“Sana and Tzuyu-” and her groan is the first real break in her act. “Ugh. Those two don’t know when to back the fuck off,” she admits, shaking her head. Turns out she was subjecting herself to her own psychological warfare of the other girls ogling at you from a distance.
You don’t buy her alibi at first, studying her figure as your hand traverses down between her legs: “I did say that you’re even hotter when you’re mad, but you being soaked is another,” you huff, “Look at you, Hyun. You’re dripping.” Normally, you’d take pleasure in finding this out, but it’s overshadowed. “Don’t tell me you’ve thought about Sana on me, too.”
“Do you really think that lowly of me?” She asks, doing all she can to not notice the press of your thumb on her little clit through the fabric. The assumption alone could be enough to not be on speaking terms, yet it’s very invigorating how frustrated the both of you are. Her head dips - an admission, “It would’ve been so hot, though.”
“Oh?” You say, settling between her legs, rumpling waves of fabric that were a measly barrier between the growing tent right at the seat of your pants, waiting to meet her long-awaited cunt. “What if I told them I’d also do the same thing I’m doing right now?” you gruff, “If that’s what my girl wants. Fine. Have it your way.”
Dahyun shudders at the voice; everything about the way your words are presented are so enunciated and punctual: “I’m going to take this body of yours as mine like it’s supposed to be.”
Her body follows the flow of your mouth and hands, responding to them with their own violation, thighs pressed against each other to sustain the feeling. One knuckle up her cunt wasn’t enough, so there goes another - or two, even - and the fabric between the inevitable crime is only making it worse in the need for more, and rough.
You’re taking it all in, in the sound of her hot mouth funneling in your ear. Utilizing all the friction you can to make her ache before you’ve even sunk your cock into the poor girl. Cumming in no time flat which is a small testament to how you want her to be, and how she wants you desperate to go all the way.
So much for her panties anyway: ripped from her hips and lost into the darkness behind. “Whoops,” you say, unbothered (yet you like it despite the little effort), “Didn’t mean to do that. Just hope you don’t drop anything in front of Sana, or Tzuyu, for that matter.”
(It’ll be an idea for her sometime in the future. Maybe when she’s been riled up enough to get an entire coalition to deal with your insufferable antics - to use you as their own personal servant until they feel like they’re willing to switch the roles around. You hope so, too. Dahyun will never know before the day it happens.)
Just like how she picked the ideal dress that hugged her body, adorned with all the curves and angles perfectly fitting with the intent of making you notice. Because she knew that you wouldn’t stop. She looks over the dim lights shimmering through the small windows, a small clamor of people stepping outside of the ballroom. “Someone could hear us, y’know,” she whispers, biting her lip as she feels the third knuckle bathing in her slick.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you drawl, the gentle groan of your zipper undone. Divide and conquer: work her lips while she gets herself open for you, whimpering at the feeling of your tip pressing hard into her entrance.
Not that it was some form of protest, wrapping a leg around you, pushing her hips forward for the angle where she likes it deep. Dahyun holds you close, to the neck and with fingers in your hair. You, on the other hand, are shameless and gripping her ass as the pace is being found, snapping your hips upward and letting her back hit the concrete behind her.
Dahyun’s body is a map you know all too well. It’s easy, and (always) good. She throws her head back and moans, letting the clenching cunt do its work around your length. “Right there, hon,” you rasp, quietly. “Not too loud. Cover your mouth if you have to.” She nods in reply, neck going slack as she can’t fathom the same spot of her cunt being worked over one thrust in the next - like she’s being transformed to a being that your only purpose is to love her.
For a girl like her-
One that comes off as inviting and prude in a second, to being an unfiltered deity who won’t back down in voicing her demands where she sees fit.
Fuck me.
The dark dress being lifted to reveal more is your own twisted version of a veil.
Harder, babe. Please.
“God, Dahyun-”
“Fuck me like you want me,” she commands, and you have to wonder if she truly wants to get so fucked over and make it the constant reality (which it already should be) to get you apologize with more than your mouth attached with apologies.
“Christ, you fucking tease.” It’s hardly an insult, but rather an affirmation of what’s owed: “You’re the biggest and neediest girl that needs to know where she stands. Insufferably whipped like there’s nothing else than that.”
Dahyun winces in reflex, as noticed by her cunt gripping your length like a vice. Her eyes blown in a hazy black, closing them in humiliation while the arousal continues to out her with every slam and drag back of your hips. Her face is against your neck, gently kissing the pulse; one more thing to worry about that’s clouding the impending edge you’re getting yourself off on.
The preferences in a short amount of time come in quick succession: hosting her up to the moonlight; fucking her fast and painstakingly slow, to the point where she has to slap your face to get your attention, despite that with one more slide down your shaft, she can’t bring herself back to earth as she cums all over your cock.
“You’re-” you choke because her whine was loud enough for someone to notice, but honestly getting caught would be better than being like this. “Absolutely wonderful, my love. Look at you, sopping all over my cock like you can’t help it.
“Fu- it’s so good, it’s too good I can’t fucking stop-”
“Don’t,” you sneer, letting one of her legs back down as she stops halfway, sharply inhaling at the flex of your cock inside her, clearly displeased. “If you don’t stop me, I’m going to fuck you until I cum in your pretty little cunt; we don’t want them to notice it after now, would we?”
The groan slipping out of your fiancé’s lips is pure music, mixed with her climax, but with every upward stroke inside she then realizes what was currently happening. Dahyun pulls your head close, where her mouth is back on your ear, and it’s a siren’s call: “If you really want to show that I’m yours, then you better mark me where everyone can see-”
“An absolute fantasy, baby. Oh my fuck-” you slip here because the idea’s way too rewarding with how the whole thing unfolded. “I bet you’d like the thought of seeing me get off with the others just as much as you are right now.” Because it could happen, and it will; just entirely a matter of when that time comes.
You kiss her, brutally, with teeth and tongue and every mixed emotion of anger and denial and wanting to own up your regrets to take back what’s yours. Dahyun feels it in the rough heat, and she’s hot all over. A bad desire that’s only boiled from the tension prior because you’d much rather have a mattress to fuck her in as opposed to sleeping in shame on the couch. “I’ll make it up to you. Here,” you confess, thumbs pressed to her hips as they hold her in place while you’re pushing the angle a little more deeper. “I’ll fuck you as many times as it takes if it helps you forget what the other girls have done with me; when you’re full and cock drunk and begging for more, then you could at least stop pretending like you’re not mine.”
“Please,” your girl sighs, and she’s begged for your cock multiple times, enough to tattoo it into your skin and bones. It almost makes her feel guilty; it’s in her eyes, and you might’ve both misunderstood each other- maybe. You get yourself off in her, thrusting without any sense of remorse, letting her moans fill your ears until it all becomes white noise-
“Yes, yes, yes, yes-”
You blink right through the simple praise, naturally cumming inside her like she’s meant for it.
It then gets messy, lackadaisical. Your entire body shudders as rope after rope is put inside her hole. Her head nods in approval, rubbed against your cheek. She’s melting in your hands, almost enough to make you worry she’ll slip right through your fingers.
“Fuck,” rasps Dahyun. “You came so fucking much.”
A groan is all you give in response.
She coos as you slip out and see her wobble, sinking to her knees, holding her breast and swiping her tongue to the underside for a quick second. “Think I can make you cum with my mouth in a minute?”
You gaze down to her beady eyes, breath hot on your balls. It makes your cock twitch on impulse. “I have a better idea.”
“Scared?” Dahyun tilts her head in confusion, which also forces her to stand up without you telling her. “What’re you-”
“You can clean up my cock later when we get home,” you say, lifting her leg and place your cock back in her needy entrance, revitalized from her small taunt. A few more thrusts even long after you’re spent, and you’ve came in her again. The tightness squeezing around your cock makes you leak when you pull out and land a little more cum on her inner thighs.
“Oh my god.” says Dahyun. “Fuck- you really couldn’t help yourself-”
“Save it,” you spit, take a moment to stop the shaking in your legs and get your pants right. Dahyun dips a finger to the mess below and has a taste for herself. She looks at you without any care, and your hips feel stiff once more.
“Do you realize how hot you are when you’re angry?” And she acts like the cloth doesn’t cut both ways.
“If you want Sana to know where we’ve been,” you tell her, grabbing her chin and forcing to your height advantage, yet she bites her lip because you know she likes it. “You’d show her yourself what’s under that dress, while also thinking of me.”
College classes are bullshit, you thought as you stared at your phone screen, class schedule on display. Not living in the city, you took a two-hour commute — every day — just to arrive for one class that’s only for an hour. An hour. Then it’s the same stupid commute home at 8. That’s it. For the majority of the week.
For Fridays and Saturdays? Oh yeah, they’re fine, most definitely.
“Christ, 7 to 7 on Fridays and Saturdays?”, you whined out loud. You swiped a few more at the screen in disbelief, hoping it was a glitch, just a minor typographical error by some overworked coffee-for-blood intern half-asleep over the keyboard. But no. An internship at the local clinic, and four hours of a course on clinical research and ethics. 7 to 7. You heaved a sigh and tightened the straps of your backpack. Why they couldn’t put some of the classes during your weekdays is a mystery as clear as muddy water.
Finally leaving the ornamental front gate of your college campus, you trudged along a brick path that ran alongside different shops and stalls that were neatly positioned just before the train station. You pass by different hobby shops, neat textile stands, and a couple of establishments you haven’t got the time or the money to try.
You reached the last stand of food and saw beside it a newly opened cafe, complete with a jazzy new logo, neat brutalist walls, and those hip, one-word, obscure names all cafes seem to have nowadays: Fors. Its grey walls seemed to hold more life inside as you peeked into the windows beside the main entrance. Orange lights and the buzz of customers gave the cafe that inviting feeling of stepping into something new, despite its seemingly uninviting exterior. You decided to indulge in that, thinking of buying a small pastry for the road.
The cafe wasn’t all that big, situated on this gravel lot with a neat side garden facing the street, but it definitely maximized the space. Brick stepstones were inlaid to lead to the heavy wood-and-glass door, with its sleek black “Welcome” sign hanging. The larger cement wall extended to the right of the door, sporting this large, seamless circular window, its wedges smoothed out to serve as momentary seating or a place to take a photo, as the neat sidewalks and the bunched-up shops outside, with the shadow of the nearby bridge, serving as the background.
Your feet crunched on the gravel as you took the brick path towards the door. Fixing and undoing your pack straps, you pushed the door inward. The bell overhead rang. The staff, all clad in matching navy blue polo shirts and cream-colored aprons, looked toward the entryway and offered a warm welcome. Fors was a spacious cafe, its cashier and brewing station situated to your left atop slabs of the same cement. Just past the cashier was the cold glass display, chock-full of illuminated pastries and cakes, each with its price. To the right of the cashier and pastry area was the front-of-house. It was designed to be sunken, so there was a small downstep to reach the various chairs and tables for customers. Off to the side, where the large circular window had been, were these velvet couches and small coffee tables, basking in the natural light. On the opposite, far end of that were more tables distributed evenly, orbiting the cafe’s large shelves filled with books. The sconces attached to the walls leaked out the same orange light that caught your attention, tying all the elements together cohesively.
To be truthful, you weren’t a big fan of cafes. More specifically, you weren’t a big fan of how cafes tried hard to be “commercially unique”, going so far as to rename the sizes of coffee cups or complicate coffee orders with a dash of this or that, a dollop of foreign syrup, a shot of exotic bean grounds. You had your gripes, too, with this new wave of muted, minimalist, and sleek aesthetic that all cafes seem to go for nowadays. You’d always wonder which Heaven a cafe’s soul goes to whenever it loses its life and trades it for cold, stone floors.
However, you never turned down a good old croissant. It’s simple, not too crazy — plain. Seizing the moment, you walked to the cashier and placed your order.
“Would you like a regular coffee with that, Sir? It comes in three sizes, Micro, Mean, and Maxim,” the young female barista pointed up at the overhead menu with the drink sizing.
“Yeah, I’ll have the…uh…the Mean.” You cursed internally.
“Okay, that’ll be $25.50.”
I will never return here, you thought as you weakly handed over your card. After a few taps and prints, you took it back alongside the warm croissant and ventured down towards the seats.
Scanning the area, most customers were seated near the circular window, hoping to get a shot for Instagram or whatever. So you walk past them and take a window-side wood seat with a small square table. Comparatively, this window was a bit dirtier, with blurry fingerprints streaking and dotting the pane.
“Guess they neglected you, huh, buddy?” You softly asked the window, pulling out the seat. “Well, don’t worry, I’m not much for circle windows,” you whispered as you finally sat down to wait for your coffee.
“You usually talk to inanimate objects, or just windows?”
On the table directly in front of you, nearer to the books, there was a woman. Fair. Olive-shaped face. A gentle and delicate nose with a smooth bridge. Subtle smirk. Silky deep-brown locks styled in a wolfcut that flowed just down to her shoulders. Time-stopping.
“No, just—just windows…” You sighed.
The woman’s gaze was sharp. You felt it cut you four different ways as she scanned your appearance, searching for…something. The slicing ceased as her gaze fell back down to the opened laptop in front of her.
You gulped a bit as you shifted in your seat, uncomfortable with the sudden connection this stranger initiated. But hey, with a knockout of a woman such as her, you found it hard to complain. She sat down like grace and hard work combined, a delicate posture accenting the way her fingers typed swiftly, her eyes twinkling from the laptop light. She seemed around your age, with smooth skin sculpting and defining her cheeks and neck, with waves of her hair flowing downwards in subtle curls.
“You usually stare this long at strangers?” she piped up again, never taking her eyes off the laptop screen.
You cursed under your breath. “No, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. That’s weird,” you said with a shift of your head away from her general direction.
What is wrong with me? You thought. Your heart raced just looking at the woman; any longer and you’d die. But fuck, this girl’s beautiful, you awed silently.
And so, like addiction and relapse and all that, your gaze flowed and waned, wandering and detouring, but ultimately landing back on her.
Her brow was raised, still immersed in whatever she had on that laptop. Her eyes narrowed a bit further. Then it happened. Seemingly frustrated, her nose scrunched like something she didn’t mean to do and instantly corrected. The crinkles at the top of her nose bridge eased as her expression settled. It happened for a split second, but you caught it.
Then you felt a slash, the gash quickly rising from your arms and up to your face. Warmth flushed your cheek. Her almond eyes lacerated you. You were leveled.
You nervously smiled, getting caught again. You fiddled with the complimentary Fors creamer and sugar, hoping that mindless actions would undo the last three minutes of awkwardness. You drummed the table a bit, conveniently looking to the counter, waiting for this dumb century-long coffee.
Coffee beans must’ve still been harvested from exotic red-soil countries, you mused.
The woman suddenly stood up, chair whining against the floor. Grabbing her sling bag and books in one hand, and holding the corner of her still open laptop with the other, she strode shortly and stopped at your table. She set her belongings on the table, occupying more than half of your table space, and sat directly in front of you, resuming her nonchalant typing, not even acknowledging you with brief eye contact.
“Uh…”
“It’s self-service.”
“Excuse me?”
The woman nodded to the cashier. “That’s probably your coffee right now, cooling away.” Right enough, your eyes found a pastel grey mug sitting alone on the countertop.
“Excuse me,” you said with a half-hearted smile as you peel away from the table. And so you walked over, grabbed your now less-hot-than-desirable coffee, and stopped just before you reached your table. The woman still sat there.
Okay, I’m still in it, you rejoiced silently.
You took a seat again, placing the coffee just beside your croissant and the newly placed leather books. You craned your neck subtly, trying to read the titles on the spines.
“Law books,” she answered.
“Law student,” you responded in understanding.
So she was older, you thought.
She gave a nod as you took a seat, trepidation hanging over you as you thought of how to fill the silence.
“Got a paper due?” you asked meekly.
“A digest, yeah.”
“Cool, cool,” you said with a sip of your coffee.
“You?”
“Me?”
“Your major.”
“Gotcha. I’m a nursing student.”
“Hm. Younger.”
“Well, not that young,” you replied sheepishly.
“Young enough.”
“I mean, it’s not like we’re ages apart,” you replied. “You’re what, four years ahead?”
“Flattering, but no. I’m 37,” she winced.
You almost spat out your coffee. “Shut up.”
That made the corner of her lips lift a bit, and her face rose to look up at you instead of her work. The edge of her gaze stung less.
“Yup, 37. Majored in Poli Sci. Left for a bit. Came back.”
“But you look…” You pointed at all of her.
“Yes?”
“Absolutely not 37,” you said in awe, wrapped in a jest, but you caught yourself.
“I’m sorry.” You played it cool. “You’re just…wow.”
She laughed a single melodious laugh, her nose scrunch more visible now. Then you noticed it — the lodged maturity in her laugh, the seriousness seeping through her smile as her face eased back into a composed smirk, the intensity in the corners of her eyebrow. Her brown gaze stabbed you, but you didn’t mind.
“So you do laugh.”
“I do. Unfortunately.” She released a short sigh, thought for a bit, and decided to shut her laptop. “Kazuha.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kazuha,” you offered your hand. She shook it firmly, but friendly.
“So how do you…?” you motioned up and down.
“Exercise and diet. Mainly genetics, too. Aren’t you supposed to be an expert on this, Nursing?”
“Oh shut up. You’re lucky I don’t quiz you on…” You leaned closer, tilted your head, and read off the spine of one of her books. “…torts, obligations, and civil proceedings.”
“I’m sure I can handle it.” She sized you up.
“I’m sure I can handle it,” you repeated sarcastically.
“Christ, you’re a child,” she scoffed slightly.
“Hey, a child you specifically chose to sit next to.” You pouted with false-surrendered hands. “Pretty sure that’s illegal.” You leaned back a bit.
Her gaze sliced down to your arms and back up to your eyes.
You relented immediately.
“Obviously, I’m kidding. Thank you for sitting here,” you said as you leaned back in towards her. This rewarded you with another laugh, the melody ringing in your ears as she chuckled.
“I’m 23,” you eased her mind.
She nodded with a slight smile. “Alright.”
“Alright?”
“Alright.”
Kazuha stowed her laptop, piled the cluttered paper, and stacked the uneven books. With a sling of her bag and a grip on her books, her tall frame stood before you, hips cocked to the side.
“Nursing. 23.” She repeated your details back to you, seemingly memorizing and rehearsing the information. “I’ll see you around then, 23. Enjoy the coffee.” The older woman pivoted and strode away, her heels tapping across cement.
Alright, you smile to yourself, satisfied. You took a sip of your coffee and finally dug into the croissant.
Kazuha sliced the back of your head with one last peek at you. You never noticed.
-
With a zip of your duffel bag, you neatly fold and store your scrub top and the casing of your stethoscope, ready to head out. Packing most of your things, you venture out of the clinic, eager to start that commute home. Your ID beeps at the employee monitor as you say goodbye to your clinical instructor, hoping to split before they have any “last-minute tasks” for you. With a dash across intersections, you quickly navigate past the rabble of people also rushing to head home. Like obstacles, the buzz of people filled your night commute; a group of teenagers on skateboards, similar college students probably on their 5th Red Bull, businessmen guffawing as they turn off work mode, and you — this aquamarine smear in a mosaic of muted clothes and the scattered bounces of car lights. Pulling out your phone, you cross off the last item of your to-do list and walk down the same street-lined shop, the last stretch before your commute.
You glance at the familiar shops, giving an occasional wave at the vendors you’ve personally gotten to know while studying. You see Mr. Lee, resident loudmouth teokbokki monger, as he shouts out his low prices over his steaming boiler of rice cakes. Just further down, Mrs. Bang, the no-nonsense street food mogul and local grandmother of all, fans the coals just under sizzling skewers and tin-foiled sweet potatoes. Across Mrs. Bang’s side, the Kim brothers chase off young kids staying too late at their neon-highlighted computer gaming lounge. You chuckle a bit, staring at this picture of comfort. Miles and miles of pavement and hours of train tracks separate your college from your house, but walking down this lane has always felt like home.
You walk a few more meters and come up to Fors again, its human vibrance sheltered by its grayscaled exterior. The circular window, an amber eye staring back into city streets and cloudless nights. Words and conversations spill through the glass door, decoding long enough whenever the door opens for a customer and vanishing as quickly as it shuts.
You were never a cafe guy.
You take a few strides past Fors, walk the crossing, and stand just before the steps leading down into the subway and, eventually, home. Something gnawed at the back of your mind.
You were never a cafe guy.
You could go back now, just to check. No harm done.
You were never a cafe guy.
It’s only a few steps. You check your wristwatch. 7:23. Two hours before the final train.
You were never a cafe guy.
You still had a lot of studying to do.
You were never a cafe guy.
You didn’t even have any money left.
You were never a cafe guy.
And you never will be, if they didn’t have…this.
Her hair is whimsical, flowing through the air in slow-motion curls and waves. A million love songs play as a part of her face, now comes into view. Her skin is bright and rose-cheeked and warmed by orange cafe beams, a stained-glass display of jaw-drop, devotion being the only appropriate response. Her lips are sweet and kind and lightly pouted, as if inviting a reply only lips can make. Her name flits from your mouth like a short kiss you never want to end, like those you make before leaving for work or wanting to stay in the moment. Cherubs softly sigh as she scans the room, gracing each customer with a momentary glimpse of her— those split-seconds freeze as you find yourself actively trying to pause the world and the hands of time, just to commit the image to memory. Her eyes shatter the last of your inhibitions as you physically feel weak in her gaze. Daggers dig into your torso, then your face, your beating heart bleeding true onto your sleeves. Your chest rises and falls as you try to steady your breathing from the sprint back.
“Hey,” you pipe up.
“Hey.” Her smile twinkled in the sea of strangers, like faraway lights beckoning you to come close. A smirk rises from her lips as her wolf cut cascades down her cheeks. You notice something.
“Hoop earrings.”
“Working eyes.” Kazuha’s scoff turns into a laugh as she turns her attention back to her books.
You come up to the empty seat across from her.
“Taken?”
Kazuha shrugs with a brow raised. “Maybe.”
Crap.
“Really?” You drop the bravado a bit, concerned.
She suddenly laughs, hand immediately coming up to cover her grin. She gestures with an open palm toward the empty seat.
You nod, pulling out the chair and taking a seat, face-to-face with Kazuha again. Well, face to book. A dark green leather-bound book with spidery gold lettering blocked her face from view – Environmental Law.
You lean back a bit, breathing finally evening out. Now, with you sitting down and thinking clearly, you realize the next step is unknown to you. She was right there, just a few feet from you, and yet the distance was canyon-like. You glance back down at your watch – 7:31. Maybe not too late to catch that train.
Her voice cuts through cafe conversation.
“So…” Environmental Law is lowered for a bit, her sharp eyes now coming into view. “You ran all the way here just to see me?”
“Just to see you?” you echoed sheepishly. “No, of course not. I was just, you know, walking. Then I realized I hadn’t eaten yet. So, I wanted to grab a bite to eat before that train ride home. So, yeah,” you finish with a shrug.
“Uh-huh.” Her eyes narrow for a bit as she scans you up and down. “You beelined here, didn’t you?”
You exhale and admit. “Yeah…”
A short giggle leaves her, but a smile stays. She closes up stupid Environmental Law and sets it aside, along with her other law books. She leans forward, her knit sweater accentuating her slim waist and graceful frame.
“Am I a bite to eat, 23?” Her voice suddenly takes on this sultry lowness. Blood rushes to your cheeks as you are hit by her sudden boldness and the obvious double entendre.
“No! I just mea—“
Kazuha bursts out a quick chuckle, her hand waving it off as she makes light of the conversation. “Jesus, chill out!” She smiles at you, satisfied with the jest.
“But did you? Beeline here, I mean?” She asks again, her voice rising with a slight tone of hope. The contrast jarred you.
For how brief you’ve known her, Kazuha’s voice was markedly unique. Hers was a symphony made by madmen — confident, clear, contradicting. Her voice could be light and easy, with a small rise in pitch. But then, it’d have this surprisingly low quality to it, like a sudden flip of sentience and suave — and Kazuha seemed to abuse that switch.
“You’re going to be dangerous, huh?”
“Pretty much,” she says with sly eyes and a smirk.
-
“So yeah, graduated, did ballet, hated it, got confused, then took time off.”
“Mhm…yeah.”
“Then got back here to take up law finally.”
“You liking it…?”
“Mmm…just a bit lower, please.” Kazuha’s fingers interlace in your hair, pushing you a bit lower, down her open legs.
You chuckle as you give a compensatory lick lower on her wetness, nearer her smooshed asscheeks. “I meant law,” you say in between pecks to her pussy lips and kisses to her smooth thighs propped up on your shoulders.
“Fuck yes!” Her grip tightens when you hit a spot right at the crease of her ass, using your tongue for all its worth. “Yeah, I’m-I’m liking it, yeah.” She giggles through strained breaths.
You hook your arm around her left thigh, come back down towards her pussy, and start rubbing the bud at the top of her splayed lips. Your tongue takes care of business nearer the entrance, lapping up the leaking lubricant.
“Fuck, yeah, right there! Yes, yes, right there!” Kazuha’s mouth widens as her neck arches to the ceiling of her quiet flat, her slender throat on display, moonlight streaking through her blinds, the strips of light dying to touch the scene.
You maintain the pace Kazuha liked, rubbing faster only at her clit. Heaven collapses onto you as her strong thighs smother you, the soft flesh clamping down the sides of your head.
“You’re dripping.” You can’t help but smile through suffocation.
“For you,” Kazuha breathes out your name, caressing your head with surprising sweetness. “Oh fuck!— You make me so wet.”
You grip her outer thighs, your fingers sinking into the plump skin, as you lower them from your head. Her pink pussy lips are spread for you, liquid still dripping down the ring of her ass. An idea pops into your head.
“Shit! Yes!” Kazuha’s head snaps back onto the pillow as your tongue trails from her asshole and up to her clit in one long, deep lick.
Your head finally comes into her view. “Really?” you coo, intrigued.
A laugh rises through her exhausted breath as she nods with a smile. “Mhm…” Her voice softens in erotic embarrassment.
You lean back down and, after a few more coaxes with your index and middle finger, her hips buck against your head as her sex twitches in orgasm. You drown in the erotic liquid and the salt in her sweat that was beading down her navel. You open your mouth wide, tongue flat in acceptance of the fruit of your hard work. The older woman’s legs wrap around your head, humping in response, as if trying to get another orgasm going.
With the added juices, you slide your tongue down her pussy lips and back onto her tight rim. She shrieks in delight with the repeated contact, the tip of your tongue circles and teasing entrance, baiting her for a bit before letting her cunt settle down from the high. You sit back up, satisfied with your work.
Kazuha lies there for a few moments, recollecting. Her tits bounce ever so slightly with each inhale and exhale. With a flick of a switch, her post-orgasm vulnerability vanishes, leaving only a deep need to retaliate. She rises to plant a few kisses on your neck before pulling you lower, her mouth now close to your ear.
“My turn.”
She adeptly reverses your position, with you now lying down on your back, your bare chest and boxers subjected to her gaze. Kazuha straddles you, the tent in your underwear lightly touching her pussy.
With you now on the bottom, Kazuha leans down, her lips seeking a target. First, they land on your cheek. Then the side of your mouth. Your jaw. Ear. Jugular. Pecs. Her face stops near your now-hardened nipple, eyes staring back up at you. Her open mouth breathes warmth onto you. Your cock twitches visibly at the possibility, now straining even harder. This catches her attention. Her sharp gaze widens.
“Really?” She echoes.
Fuck.
You admit with a slow nod.
Her pink tongue slowly darts out, dragging across the hard nub.
Sparks fly immediately. You jerk in pleasure, your torso rising on instinct, inadvertently bumping your nipple back onto her tongue. You squirm in the unexpected gratification, your breathing quickens as you grip tighter on her pastel blue bed sheets.
Hunger consumes her now. Her mouth latches down onto your left nipple, tongue coating the sensitive nerve endings with slick saliva. She licks repeatedly, around the nub, alternating clockwise and counter. She releases you with an open-mouthed gasp, her tongue coming down to poke and flick the nub lightly and minutely, just enough for you to feel the stimulation — and ultimately crave more.
A neural pathway must have short-circuited because the words that came out of your mouth surprised even you.
“The other one, too. Please…”
After a few last licks, Kazuha smirks up at you. She kisses your left nipple one last time as she shifts a bit, eager to focus her attention on your other erect bud. Saliva coats your right nipple now, Kazuha working hard to keep it moist. Seemingly satisfied, she now blows a cold breath onto it.
“Kazuha—shit!” Your abdomen flexes in response to the cool feeling. Your fingers find her hair, tightening and coiling a few strands before loosening. “Sorry,” you whisper.
“It’s alright,” she whispers back, a comforting smile manifests on her cheeks. “You feel good?” Her gaze is a different kind of sharp now — less edge, more eager. Less cut, more care.
You nod back, letting her continue. And she does. She brings her index and middle finger to your mouth now, eyes wide with this concentrated gaze, lashes batting and beckoning for you to give in.
You open up a bit, her fingers now brushing against your lips. Her lithe fingers dance around your tongue, sliding and slipping, making sure you taste her skin. Without breaking eye contact, she brings out her now-wet fingers and places them back on your left nipple. She traces circles around the center, cutting across occasionally, rubbing your nipple for you. You squirm again, the nerve endings overloaded with the pleasurable stimuli, your body needing to do something to try and regain control. But Kazuha was everything — consent and control. She coaxed and cooed whenever she tried new things, making sure you were alright with it. But the moment you said yes, her disposition steeled. She would fixate on those boundaries she could cross and punish you for it, building you up for your eventual breaking down.
With her fingers focusing on your left nipple, you finally see her plan: her mouth latches onto your nipple on the right. Surges of electricity course through your chest and up your spine, wetness now coating both of the nubs. You curse out in pleasure as you feel the onslaught of sensation, Kazuha pushing and driving you further. She giggles at your response, and you feel her mouth curl into a smile as she licks and sucks at your areola. Your hard dick flexes painfully, begging, pleading, for release as it strains against your boxers. Kazuha looks up at you with an erotic open mouth, her tongue flicking your nipple. Her eyes dart to your cock and back to you, debating whether to give you a journey into that one last frontier you’ve been wishing she’d venture to.
“Should I?” Her low voice inquires in faux apprehension.
Not able to take it anymore, you snap. “Kazuha, you fucking better,” you whisper.
She laughs in surprise, gasping at your boldness. Her eyes sharpen for a moment, but glaze over with this newfound warmth. Kazuha leans over, her gorgeous features becoming clearer. She lowers and gives you a sweet kiss, lips pressing against yours firmly, but not hungrily. The sentiment of the kiss caught you off guard, but you reciprocated. You close your eyes and let yourself go.
A few seconds deep into the liplock, Kazuha pulls back. Like magnets, your lips chase and follow her, both of you now sitting up, with her on your lap. You stare at her face again, this beauty staring back at you in the middle of her muted apartment. Once again, those seconds play in slow motion. The curl of her hair stops mid-fall; the blanket flows off her waist like linen waterfalls; her lips, like sweet fruit, accent the light pink tinge of her cheeks. Her body was on yours, graceful, toned, and fragile. You’ve begun hoarding those moments.
Her thumb caresses your cheek, and the world resumes its turning.
“Hey, you okay?” Her voice is sultry, sweet, almost a soft squeeze on your shoulder.
You hold her hand and rub her palm for a bit. “I can’t help but try and memorize every detail of your face…” You trail off.
“Eh?” she squeaks, her voice high now. She shifts back a bit. Much to your dismay, you sense the warmth in her fade a tad, that stinging facade of the Fors cafe girl flooding back in just a smidge.
“No, I just meant— You’re beautiful,” you stammer through, trying to save the conversation from, well, whatever it was you were trying to save it from. “From when I saw you the first time, you were just so— “
“God, shut up.”
Her lips collide with yours. You feel her smile through the kiss as her lower lip lightly bites yours. “Just lie back down, okay?” Kazuha says, with a flat palm, lowering you back onto the mattress.
Her nails run down lightly on your sternum and down to your stomach, your abs tightening suddenly at the mix of tingles and sensuality. Her fingers stop at the band of your boxers, just a few inches from the large tent, aggressively trying to find much-needed contact from Kazuha’s anything at this point. She hooks both thumbs as you also lift your hips a bit, helping her remove the last roadblock to your sexual resolution.
Your cock stands proudly, throbbing and flexing for the older woman, putting on a show so she could finally touch the whole you. You stare at Kazuha, her lips coming to a pout, eyebrows rising as she evaluates your length. You gulp.
“Relax. It’s bigger than I thought.” Kazuha croons. “Biggest I’ve had,” she mutters under her breath, quiet enough to escape you.
She wraps her fingers around the tense muscle, her cool skin grasping and pumping it slowly. Kazuha watches you, observing every squint, twitch, and groan she can make you perform for her. You moan out her name in weakness, the vowels slipping off your tongue like honey. With a quick swoop, both your lips reunite, her tongue slipping inside to tangle with yours. You share a hot breath as Kazuha pulls back, her nose nuzzles yours for a bit before she dives back in to make out with you. With a sigh, she pushes against you, kissing harder as she grows more insatiable, before peppering smooches down your neck and back onto your right nipple. Her tongue comes out, flicking at it once more before going to your other nipple. Her mouth licks in a constant circle while her other hand lies across your chest, finding your erect right nipple. Your head pounds from the overstimulation — a tongue and a hand on your sensitive pecs, her smooth left palm jerking your length, and a pair of eyes that stare up at you as you go insane. Waves upon waves of signals and zings course through your brain and spine, tingling and rushing through your veins as you grow increasingly numb and sensitive at the same time. You stiffen up unconsciously, puffing your chest and giving Kazuha more space to wreak havoc. You feel simultaneous wet corkscrews from both her tongue and her precum-lubricated hand.
Then, for whatever fucking reason, Kazuha speeds up.
“Zuha! Wait!” you croak with weak knees. A tightness starts in your abdomen and starts rising at the base of your steaming length. You buck erratically into Kazuha’s palm as she pumps you relentlessly. The pleasure builds, you feel this tightening in your core as you breathe quicker now.
“Zuha, please!” you manage to moan out, but the older woman jerks you off anyway. Her palm travels your length, squeezing and twisting, stopping just at the tip, and starting back down at the base. With quick strokes, you feel your orgasm building and rumbling along your length.
Then, nothing.
A pit forms in your stomach as your eyes widen, taking in a motionless Kazuha with a stupid, teasing, edging smirk. “Wait, no, fuck! Zuha, you can’t do thi—“
Her warm, silky mouth suddenly plunges on your thick length, tongue slipping down your shaft and reaching the base in one smooth stroke. With a quick maneuver, Kazuha lies between your spread knees, hands reaching up to stimulate your chest one last time before you eventually…
“Fuck!” You unknowingly grip Kazuha’s hair tighter as you slam her mouth deeper onto your meat, her nose meeting your navel. Your cock releases a shot of cum into her mouth, the pressure immediately releasing and gratifying. You hear a slight audible gag as your cock keeps going, dumping and firing off strands of white into her (very receptive) throat and pink tongue. Kazuha bobs for a few moments, making sure to pump every last rope out of you, before releasing your cock from the caverns of her mouth.
Kazuha sits back as she angles her face slightly upward. Her erotic clavicle and neck flex for a bit as she gulps down your seed. She sighs after swallowing, tired and satiated, for now.
The once-spinning apartment has now slowed to a stop, the blue bed and the ravishing woman now clear instead of a sex-hazed blur. Kazuha tucks a stray lock behind her ear, her eyes satisfied with the hurdles she just put you through. Your head collapses back down onto her pillow, sweat soaking just under your chin and neck.
The sheets crinkle and fold as Kazuha plops herself beside you to your left, your two naked bodies touching shoulder to shoulder.
You turn your head to look at her. She looks back.
“So…” she begins. “Zuha’s new.”
“Hey, you try moaning out a three-syllable name,” you retort.
“Oh, Kazuha! Fuck, yes, yes, Kazuha!” she yelps out suddenly, eyes closing in dramatized pleasure as your eyes widen. Her face returns to normal as she playfully shrugs. “Not so bad to me.”
You push her shoulder. “You’re so dumb.”
She squeals, laughing at you, her voice taking on a new pitch and decibel. Her eyes smile at you, a blade sheathed momentarily.
“I like it, though. ‘Zuha’.” She repeats the nickname, testing it out for herself and being satisfied.
You can’t help but beam. “Okay then.”
-
You stir awake to the sound of the bedroom door closing. Your eyes focus for a bit, taking in Kazuha’s apartment walls. A plant in the corner. Pictures of friends on a desk nearby. Pastel blue living room.
Kazuha smirking in the doorway.
She wore classy cat eye sunglasses perched atop her forehead, her round eyes visible and scanning. A pair of pearl earrings glint slightly in the panel of Sunday sunlight streaming through the window. She wore high-waist jeans, a simple white shirt, a brown wool cardigan, and boots. She held a cardboard cup holder, two coffee cups in stow — Fors coffee cups — and a paper bag with the cafe logo in her other hand.
You, on the other hand, were still naked, comfortably under her covers.
“You’re up early.” You rub your eyes for a bit.
“It’s 10.”
You whip around to find your phone. 10:07. You text back home that you were fine. Your gaze lowers to the coffee in her hand. She catches it.
“Yeah, figured I’d do something nice for you while you were knocked out.” Kazuha shrugs sarcastically, stepping away from the door and into the hallway leading to her living room.
“Thanks!” you call out.
“Just get dressed! I don’t want crumbs on my bed.”
You sigh a few more times, streaks of the midnight adventure seeping through your closed eyelids. You can’t help but smile, your heart feeling heavier and fuller.
This thing with Kazuha? It was thrilling. But at the same time, waking up in her apartment for the first time was calm and still — it was certain. Your heart races, not for the chase or the “game”, but for the serenity of something stable.
You hold yourself back a bit. This has to be superficial, you think. Who wouldn’t be infatuated with a natural beauty taking an interest? You’ve literally only known her for a day.
But you’ll be damned if you don’t try and stretch that into years.
You rise out of bed, slip on your boxers, and look around for your shirt. You rifle through your bag and through some of Kazuha’s clothes from last night — still nothing.
“You must really like cold coffee, huh?” Kazuha pipes up from the living room, impatient but teasing.
You sigh, walking out into the hallway, shirtless, bashfully covering yourself.
It didn’t take long for you to see exactly where the shirt went. You see Kazuha facing away from you, fiddling with her microwave, wearing your white shirt. It hung low on her frame, hugging her shoulders but flowing loosely down, giving her a boxy sort of look. Your eyes trail down the shirt and see her legs, extending gracefully. Kazuha was a tall woman, taller than average, standing just a few inches below you, but her legs went on for miles. Her hips curved sensually, followed by those strong thighs that wrapped around your head previously, then her smooth calves, all the way down to her feet. Her hips were cocked again, the swell of her ass accentuated by her black panties, as she was preoccupied with the appliance.
“You had pants on a while ago.”
“Perceptive.” She snorts. “More comfortable this way.”
You hear a metallic clang and the closing of a microwave door. The appliance beeps, its internal timer being set before a constant drone picks up as it stirs to life.
“I expected shorts but not…” You can’t help but ogle the curves of her thighs as they transition to her legs. You slightly drool at the sight.
“Stop staring and take a seat.” She tilts her head to look back, her eyes meeting yours.
You scoot over to her kitchen area, taking a seat on the corner nearest a window. On the table are the two coffees she bought from Fors, you take off their tops, trying to discern which one was yours. You place the latte near you and Kazuha’s americano on her side of the table. With a ping from the microwave, Kazuha brings a tray over — two croissants. She plops the pastries in the middle of the table, taking a seat across from you. You stare at her a bit before deciding to inch your chair closer to her side. You were now sitting to her left.
“There’s enough room for both of us, c’mon.” She bumps your shoulder playfully.
“I know. Just wanted to be closer.” You shrug, sheepishly.
“You’re a sap.” She chuckles briefly as she nudges the tray of croissants.
“Thanks, Zuha.” You lean over to try to kiss her cheek.
She clicks her tongue as your lips land on her palm instead. “Eat.”
“Bossy.”
“Insisting,” she corrects.
You pick up a croissant, take a bite of the flaky pointed end, place it back on the tray, and chew in front of her.
“Happy?” you ask through munches.
“Jesus, just eat!” she whines with a small laugh, hitting you on your shoulder.
“You don’t really talk much, huh?” you say with a sip of coffee.
“You don’t really stay quiet much, huh?” Her nose scrunches as she acts irritated.
“Not in my nature. Learned that a long time ago.” You shrug.
She sighs as she looks into your eyes, a small smirk plastered on her face. “I rarely talk to people, let alone have breakfast with them. So I stay quiet most of the time.”
“So, is this a first for you?”
“Not exactly. Just…the first time in a long while.”
“I see.” You tap your fingers a bit on her table. A few silent seconds pass. But you can’t help yourself. “How’re you liking it so far?”
“You’re really annoying, do you know that?” She replies snarkily.
“Wow, tell me how you really feel. Am I right?” you chuckle, poking her side a bit.
“And you’re really stupid.”
“That I can accept a bit.”
She laughs at you, her hand reaching up to cup your cheek. Instinctively, it seems.
“But,” Kazuha thinks hard for a bit. “…you’re charming,” she finishes honestly.
Your chest pounds as her hand comes into contact with the side of your face. Your stomach feels full, butterflies fluttering and drifting up your throat, trying to crawl out of your mouth in the form of stutters and stammers. Your brain kicks into overdrive again, trying to encode the sight before you.
Her nose was adorable, the folds on her bridge on the verge of scrunching. The corner of her lips rose, a smirk about to form again. Her lashes batted, as her eyes were softer now, their edge now an old friend you dare not reunite with.
Kazuha senses what you were doing; her nose now actually scrunches in amusement before smoothing, like reflex suppressed. She rolls her eyes and averts her gaze as she scoffs, a hint of light pink appearing on her cheeks. Her hand lowers from your cheek, landing back on the table, near her coffee cup.
“So…” you cough a bit. “I thought you hated ballet.” You nod across the kitchen, motioning towards a wall in the living room. On it, hung a picture of a younger Kazuha, mid-pirouette.
Kazuha follows your gaze and clicks her tongue. “Ah. Yeah. I think it’s all I’ve ever known, and I don’t really have any other pictures.” A somber quality to her voice reached you.
“Why’d you do it, anyway?”
“Well, my father was a prestigious man.” Kazuha puts on a fake gruff voice. “Only the best for my little girl. The best schools, the best clothes, the best lessons. It was either the best or nothing at all.” Kazuha laughs it off, but continues. “I liked it at first. Then, I got confused. Did I like it? Or did my dad like it, so I liked it too? Maybe decided I didn’t like it. Told him about it. He obviously wasn't happy. We stop talking. I moved away. Next thing I know, I’m back here, all dressed in black, staring at his casket being lowered.”
Shame fills you. “Oh no, Zuha. Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even mean to…” You wrap an arm around her, and her head rests on your shoulder.
“No, I know. It’s alright.” Her voice stiffens a bit, trying to play it tough. “It’s just not really a conversation over coffee.”
You nod silently as your thumb strokes her shoulder.
Kazuha blurts out, the moroseness in her now absent. “I was close to getting married once.”
“Excuse me?” you gasp, shock evident in your voice.
“I know, right? Had a ring too!” she lays her palm flat, staring at the bare space the ring used to inhabit. “But stuff happened, so I don’t really go for that anymore— the commitment thing.” Her voice softens as she trails off.
“Oh.”
A few awkward minutes pass by without a word being uttered.
Your heart beats a little bit faster, nervous and ashamed, for even yearning a little bit. Her eyes wander upwards, trying to catch your expression.
“Hey, look, this was—“
You cut her off. “So! You like croissants too?” you cough, bypassing that conversation for now. You prod at both of your croissants with a fork.
Kazuha pouts but nods slowly. “Uh, yeah. Croissants, pastries, bread, in general.” Kazuha eyes you but plays along, her voice sullen now.
Given where you are in your life now, you’ve always appreciated honesty. Playing social games has been a pain, so to speak, and you’ve always made it a point to be clear. Now, you reassess.
So you nod.
And then you sigh.
And then you speak up.
“Look, Kazuha. This…” You motion to both of you. “Don’t you want to try?”
Kazuha breathes deeply, the conflict obvious in her brows. “Dating?”
“We don’t have to go out all the time! I’ve got school, I know you’ve got law. We can just, y’know, hang out— like see each other at the end of the day.”
“But—“
“And, I’ll respect your time. If you just wanna stay here and not meet up, I’ll understand.”
With pursed lips, Kazuha slightly nods, still trying to think about the proposition.
“What about the sex?” she inquires innocently, despite the subject matter.
“Oh. No, no, we don’t have to. I’m fine without it.”
Kazuha stifles a laugh, a smile coming back to her cheeks, her face brightening now.
“You’ll be fine without it?” she says with a roll of her eyes, a brow sharply rising now.
You blush suddenly. “I mean, yeah. I don’t want to pressure you.”
“You really are a sap,” Kazuha confirms. There was a certain sweetness to her voice, like a slow realization of you.
Her face is a few inches from yours. You’re still shoulder-to-shoulder. The seconds tick by as millennia. You study her face in the pause.
Her eyebrows.
That’s what made her gaze so sharp. Those eyebrows that furrow, arch, or dip with every expression passing through her. They’re angled when she’s thinking, pointed when she’s scoffing, and rounded whenever her nose scrunches. Together with her eyes, her brows complete her blade.
The ambient sounds of Kazuha’s flat unwarp as temporal flow is restored. Her eyes move minutely across your face, and you feel small cuts on your lip.
“What is it?” you whisper.
“I’m worse, y’know, when we become closer. You just don’t know me yet,” she whispers back.
“Give me a chance to then.”
Your lips meet again that morning in her flat.
-
A week passes by after that day. Then a month. And then three. And, true enough, you’ve consistently met up with Zuha. You’d catch up with her after her classes, she’d sometimes wait after you clocked out, or you’d just stop by her flat. You’ve settled into that familiar routine, taking into account your commute time and all that. Although you have spent many a night at Zuha’s place, too, when she points out how you’ll only be cramped in that train ride (albeit while her lips are on you). But, all in all, Zuha was a part of your day.
And yet, she remained mysterious.
You’ve been observing her on the days you spent time together in her apartment. And, honestly, you felt perplexed.
Zuha was the type of person who had this cold exterior, especially when it came to her studies, but at the same time bawled over her 7th watch of The Lion King (getting through Mufasa’s death was always a trip through all the stages of grief).
She’d keep all her notes and digests organized, but she’d highlight like a maniac afterward — a mosaic of colors, lines, arrows, offshoot notes, and tangent case references. It was incomprehensible, but Kazuha would read them and judge you for not understanding.
She’d shut down most jokes you make, rebutting and parrying with a deadpan expression, but then she’d drop a few dad jokes, grin sweetly, and then assert that she’s just funnier than you.
She’s clumsy, but only once. She’s precise in a way that ensures she won’t make the same mistake twice. She mispronounces words, looks them up on Google, and then she practices. She overcooks a dish, tries again angrily, and then proudly serves it when she gets it right. She knocks over furniture sometimes, but then arranges them in a way that allows her to perform chaînés across her apartment.
Which brings you to ballet.
Each movement of hers seemed like a calculated performance. An afternoon at hers was a quiet recital just for you. You’d see ballet in everything she did — the way she’d gracefully bend to pick up a dropped spoon, or the way her lines extend when you stare at her putting on jeans, or the way she’d unscrunch her nose and tuck a strand of hair neatly behind her ear. You’ve been wondering whether she still likes ballet. You’d watch her and just be stuck.
She’d catch you staring sometimes, too. You felt it whenever you got cut. She would raise an eyebrow, a small, confused smirk forming. Then a roll of the eyes. A rare middle finger. But most commonly a blush.
Was the age gap between you and her apparent? Surprisingly no. Both of your personalities jived, and Zuha never made a point of talking down to you, and you always respected her whenever she knew something you didn’t. Being with her was refreshing. She had an impulsiveness about her that was such a thrill ride, but then you’d also have these deeply meaningful conversations that went on for ages. She was the perfect woman, in addition to being the perfect girlfriend.
And, you’ve had girlfriends before, but it was always the high school crash-and-burn ones. It was never a “go straight to their place after school to cook dinner” type. I mean, you’ve never even introduced anybody to your parents.
Not until your 10th night staying over at Zuha’s flat.
-
“You never told us it was a girl!” Your mom squealed on the other side of the video call. All this time, you’ve told her you’re staying over at a friend’s but never bothered to specify a girl. But then, Zuha accidentally walked behind you a few minutes ago, her feminine form obvious through the video. Your mom was now seated and audibly excited.
From the background, you hear your dad laugh. “So that’s where he’s been!”
“Yes, okay, she’s a girl. But that’s enough! I’m just staying over here to bypass the stupid commute times!” You whine, uncharacteristically.
Zuha sat in front of you and to the right, sitting just outside of the phone’s view.
“Remember when you kept sneaking in to stay over, ‘hon?” Your mom sighs, reminiscing.
“Yeah, we were around his age then, too, ‘hon,” your parents laugh. Zuha is dying, her stomach flexing as she giggles silently.
“Well, where is she? Show her to us!” Your mom whines, insisting.
“Oh, I don’t know, Mom. She’s kinda bu—“
“Wait!” Zuha protests, suddenly and swiftly walks over behind the couch to lean over your shoulder. Her face now comes into view and on camera.
“Oh, honey. She is gorgeous.” Your mom gasps in shock. “Wow.”
Zuha giggles lightly and greets your parents respectfully.
Your dad now walks over, puts an arm around your mom, and chuckles. “Kazuha, please, drop the honorifics. At this point, we’re just glad you’re our son’s girlfriend. Welcome to the family!”
You fake a yawn. “O-kay, guys! It’s getting pretty late, we should probably—“
“No! I want to keep talking to them!” Zuha’s voice rises, her pearly whites widely on display as she teases you. Her nose scrunches momentarily. You mentally take note of it.
You hear defiant cries from your phone, too.
“Christ, fine, fine!” You hand your phone and walk over to the kitchen to prepare a side dish. Zuha stays behind, entertaining your folks with a couple of stories about you. After having their fill, their conversations shift from you to her: where she came from, her childhood, her hobbies, and then finally, ballet.
Your ears (and your parents') perk up as soon as you hear Zuha talking about her old ballet school, how strict the recitals were, and how dedicated her classmates were. You feel the tinge of joy Zuha had for ballet, and you couldn’t help but gush at her passion. You hear your parents exclaim as they look up Zuha on their cellphones, surprised to see how much of a slight celebrity Zuha is.
And it was true, shortly after your first morning together, you looked her up. And, real enough, Zuha had her own Wikipedia page and YouTube videos with thousands of views. She was an astonishing performer. Her lines were clean, graceful, and full of training. Interestingly, you’d also sometimes catch her watching her old recitals. She’d tuck them away whenever you got close, laughing shyly, so you never really got around to asking her about it.
So, conversation aside, you had to focus on dinner. You fix up a small salad for a few minutes and set it down on the table beside the sukiyaki Zuha cooked. You motion over to her, she nods, and says goodbye to your parents, handing you back your phone before sitting down at the table. You check back on the video call.
“Alright, guys, you’ve terrorized me enough.” You joke.
“She’s a keeper, honey.” Your mom whispers sweetly.
You look up from your phone and see Zuha preparing a plate for you first, oblivious to what your mom just said.
“I know, Mom. She is.” Your heart swells.
“Okay then, just text us every time you’ll stay over there, alright?”
“Mhm, I will. I promise.”
“And use protection!” Your dad calls out in the background.
“Go to bed, Dad!”
The video ends, and you awkwardly chuckle, tucking away your phone. Zuha inches her chair closer to the table, waiting for you.
“So.” You finally take a seat in front of Zuha.
“So.”
“Did you hear any of that?” You wince a bit.
“Hear what?”
You shake your head as you release a sigh, laughing at the whole situation. “I’m sorry, Zuha. They just get excited from time to time.”
“Oh no, don’t be. They’re cute. They really love you.”
“Yeah, I do too,” you say, satisfied. “Thanks for being kind to them.”
“Of course.” She lets go of her fork for a bit to take your hand, her thumb rubbing your outer palm.
After a few silent stares, both of you start eating, eager to just dig in and finally head to bed.
The older woman pipes up suddenly, mouth half full. “Gotta say sorry to your dad, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh. ‘Cause we won’t use protection tonight.”
-
Your relationship had its ups and downs, too, no doubt about that. You’d argue, but she had her ways, and you had your own ways of ensuring it never got too out of hand (Bread. It was bread.) or too long (Not going to bed mad, and all that).
Fighting was normal. Fighting with Zuha, however, was not. Fighting with Zuha was hard. When she knew she was right (and that was most of the time), she was bulletproof. She was stubborn, argumentative, and smug. She’d have these three absolutely solid main points, a dozen supporting statements, and a recommendation or two on how you could change your behavior. It was incredible, really, peeling back a layer to envision how she was in her classes.
You’d try arguing back, but she was quicker. A stern “no” and you’d immediately fold. You couldn’t get a word in, even if you tried.
Which made you really savor those moments you were right.
-
So, the crux of the problem was that Zuha thought you were, and you quote, “at times too taciturn, apprehensive, and slow to move”, end quote.
“I told you to see to it already. Did you listen? No. You never do.” She rolled her eyes but remained planted in front of you, arm crossed, eyebrows jagged and sharp as ever.
“Okay, Zuha, that’s a bit unfair. I swear, I gave them to you. I bought them, then gave them to you right after.”
“Absolutely not. If I had them, then we'd already be there in the damn cinema!”
Yes, this argument was about tickets. To an animated movie. About talking animals.
“No! I’m absolutely sure I gave them to you. I triple checked those tickets, Zuha. I know how much you looked forward to the movie, so I made sure not to mess up.”
“So where are the tickets, then?”
“Zuha, I don’t know. I gave them to you, and that’s the last time I saw them.”
“The absolute negligence.” She muttered to herself, shaking her head and walking toward the other side of the living room.
“Hey, c’mon. We can just stream it. I’m sure a couple of pirate sites already have it up. Let’s calm—“
You heard the metallic hum of her gaze being unsheathed. “Calm down? You wanna run that by me again?”
“Shutting up.” You mumbled.
With a few careful strides and a sidestep, you avoided the fuming area that is Zuha and got to the bedroom. Looking to lie down for a bit and just zone out, you hauled the large clothes pile that Zuha always kept cluttered. You grabbed a couple of shirts and blouses, set aside the heavy leather coats, and hung a couple of the jeans and trousers she had worn in the past few days.
Then, something fell out.
You hung the jeans by the belt loop and looked around. And there it was. On the carpeted floor.
Two obviously-folded movie tickets. From her pants. Your face melted into a smile as memories of the day you gave it to her flooded back.
“Zuha!”
“What?” A shout.
“Come here for a minute.”
You heard her steps bounding down the hall.
Her eyebrows were weaponized, her graze fresh off the grindstone.
“Look what I found.” You sat on the bed, leaned, and crossed your arms. Smug.
Her blade swung wide and almost caught your neck. But they landed on the tickets on the floor.
“Now, for my cross-exam, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, could you tell me what those are?”
Zuha was frozen speechless, her tongue poking the side of her cheek now. “You don’t cross-examine the jury, smart ass.”
You clicked your tongue a few times. “Zip it, Nakamura. I have the floor. Now what, pray tell, are those you see on the floor? Are they movie tickets?”
“You could have put those there to—“
“Now, now, if I remember correctly,” you put on a fake, wondering tone amidst your lawyerly bravado, “you must only respond with a yes or a no during the cross-examination.”
She scoffs, eyes darting around the room. “Yes, they’re movie tickets.”
“And those pants are yours, correct?”
“Yes.” She grumbles.
“So were you, or were you not, the latest recipient of said tickets?”
Silence.
“Ms. Nakamura, I’m gonna need an answer from you.”
“Ugh, fine! Fine, fine! I had them last then. It’s my fault we couldn’t go.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.” You took a bow at the four walls of her room and the imaginary spectators of your stupendous legal victory.
You poked Zuha in the side. “How’s that?”
“I’m giving it to you this once.”
“Giving what?”
“The satisfaction of proving me wrong.”
You reveled in the honor. “Christ.” You took a step back, letting the privilege sink in. “This is the best day of my life.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get you next time.”
“Is this what law school’s like? It’s kinda easy, don’t you think?”
“Alright. I take it back. You’re done. Shut the fuck up.” Her voice was harsher now.
“Shutting up.”
“Sit down.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The satisfaction was stripped away instantaneously. Your obedience and your “taciturnity” were now the most salient parts of you once again.
Standing in front of you, Zuha placed both hands on your shoulders, locking eyes with you.
“Z-Zuha?” You gulped.
“Look. I’m sorry for calling you negligent. Or that you don’t listen. That’s not true.”
Your hands found her waist on instinct, rubbing her sides sweetly. “Hey. That’s alright. I know you really wanted to catch that movie.”
“Let me make it up to you, then.” Her fingers trailed along the length of your arms and stopped at your knees. With her eyes fixed on yours, she got on her knees, tantalizingly slow, positioning herself between your legs. Her hands crept up and down your thigh, feeling the soft material of your baggy shorts. Eventually, her palms wound up in between your legs, settling on your clothed bulge, growing and stiffening.
Fighting with her was hard. But you were right where you wanted to be.
-
To add on to your list of perplexities, Zuha was a total freak despite the exceptional discipline she exhibits when it comes to studying, cooking, or any other area in life. Hell, she was even more adventurous than you. (But to be fair, you were pretty vanilla, so the bar is already low.) You were already pretty exploratory, letting her do the nipple thing, but then Zuha took it further.
It started with a few slaps on her ass, then the occasional “put a finger in it” from her, and then your tongue. But now, most of the time you go out with her ends up in “alleyway ass-play”, as you refer to it in your mind.
When the mood struck her, you’d know. She was unbelievably teasing with it too — a small raise in her eyebrow, pupils darting to an unseen corner, a bump of her shoulder. Then she’d amp it up with a small kiss on your cheek, nails lightly digging into your bicep, deep whiffs around your neck, or, if unheard, a moan of your name. Then, with discreet shuffles, you’d be on your knees, tongue worshipping Zuha’s ass.
You figured you must have been totally whipped, always letting her reach orgasm and delaying yours until you guys got home. But every time, you’d still put an arm around her and kiss the top of her head sweetly. It was Zuha — of course, it was fine.
-
For example, this one time, you waited outside the Law building, tucking your clinical notes inside a clipboard to prepare for tomorrow’s case presentations. You adjusted your scrub pants a bit, allowing your top to finally untuck. You heaved a sigh, a 12-hour shift evident in the ache of your shoulders and neck. You rubbed your eyes and did a few stretches, willing the fatigue to leave your body before Zuha sees you. With a few minutes left before 5:30, you finally sat down on the building steps with your back to the door, eyes heavy with sleep (or lack thereof).
With a scuffle and the sound of metal turning, you heard the conversations of the law students finally seeping through. An onslaught of corporate attire swarmed you — heels clacked, oxfords tapped, ties swished, and pants swooped. Future lawyers, entranced in their own legal world, threw around jargon, judicial loopholes, and jurisprudence issues, all while flowing down the steps. They courteously gave you a wide berth (probably resonating with that same tired look you had) as you waited for Zuha. The flock thinned out soon enough as the remaining stragglers trailed off away from the steps. You looked around, slightly worried, as the campus became increasingly sparse. But, with your feet weighing a million, you stayed sitting for a few more peaceful minutes.
“You better not be falling asleep.”
Zuha.
You stood up to turn around, following her voice. The ache in your joints dissipated instantaneously as your pulse quickened.
“'Cause I definitely can’t carry you home.”
There she was.
She stood at the top of the steps, with a strong amount of swagger, wearing this deep blue three-piece suede suit. She wore black tapered high-heeled boots, accentuating her long, slender stature. Her fair skin glowed with the contrast of the suit’s color, making her presence literally illuminating. Her neck was fully on show, ditching the traditional collared polo top and only wearing the blue vest. Her nails were colored a dark red, beautifully manicured and shaped, as her hand lay on her cocked hip. Her eyes twinkled alongside her earrings, like stars beginning to show in the waning sun. And her brow, proudly raised and basking in your jaw drop and ogle. Her silhouette was sharp, slender, and confident, armed with her sling bag and a clipboard containing the structure of her defense.
The surge of law students prior has been erased from your memory; they could never compare with what you were seeing. You continued to stare, speechless, but remembering — encoding. Zuha did tell you about the mock trial and how they all had to dress formally to simulate real court proceedings, but you never expected…this. You swooned internally, feeling weak in the knees and in her gaze.
Zuha scoffed playfully, shooting a finger gun. “Hey. I take it you’re speechless? I know, I know, I clean up pretty nice, if I do say so myse—“
“You’re breathtaking.”
Her eyes widened as she stopped fronting. A blush crept up her neck and on her cheeks. She tucked a stray hair back behind her ears.
“Oh. I mean, I was just kidding…” Zuha trailed off.
“No, I mean it.” You climbed up one step closer. “You’re absolutely breathtaking…”
You felt cuts across your body and your face as Zuha stared back, shy and nervous and on guard.
“Come on, it was just the makeup. And these clothes were really just lying around unused.” She excused herself.
“Zuha.”
“Plus, you see me all the time. Without all the makeup and the jewelry and all that.” Her eyes avoided your gaze now as you stood with her atop the steps.
“Zuha.”
“What…?” She spoke in a small voice, seemingly terrified of what you had to say — the confident law student, mortified at the notion.
“I mean it. You really are— and not just today, but all the time.” You cupped her cheek. “I am so in love with you.”
Zuha breathed out, glassy eyes taking you in, a pout suddenly forming. After a beat, she finally leaned in to kiss you, crumpling your shirt to pull you in. You kissed back, holding both sides of her face as she hummed in glee. Her hands trailed up to your shoulders, criss-crossing just behind your neck as you pulled her closer by the waist now, deepening the kiss. You felt her lips curve into a smile as she pulled back slightly to stare at you, her gaze soft and sweet.
Zuha whispered out a joke. “So this is all it took for you to kiss me like that, huh?”
“I mean, you’re gorgeous all the time.” You chuckled and planted a peck on her lips. “But yeah, you look great in that suit. Jesus.”
“Hey.” Her thumb brushed along your cheek. “I appreciate you. I know I’m weird with affection, but I’m trying. It’s okay when it’s you.”
You smiled lightly as you held her gaze. “I’m yours, Zuha. No way around it.” You shrugged.
She leaned in again, and you pursed your lips on instinct. But this time, she tilted your head down, planting a kiss on your forehead. You blushed at the unfamiliar gesture as you coughed awkwardly.
“So how’d the trial go?” You asked Zuha as you both finally stepped down and away from the Law building, your arms linking.
“Yeah, it went great! We all had a chance to speak before the bar, and it all went smoothly. My notes really came in handy with the defense, what with all the different cases I got to reference.”
Zuha then went off on a tangent on how the mock trial works and how they’d be scored. She brought up different parts of the courtroom and what role they played in legal proceedings, how a cross-examination was supposed to be done, and why technicalities are basically bulletproof if a law hasn’t been amended yet. You nodded along to her voice, half listening and half swooning as her lips moved.
“…so we really had no choice but to call for a short recess just to finally get the defense straight.” Zuha finally finished.
Zuha lagged for a moment, quietly registering what you said. Then she bumped your shoulder appreciatively. “Thanks. I’m really liking it, too.”
Both of you finally reached a T-junction, with the road extending on both your left and right. A few convenience stores lined the street as the nightlife started to grow.
“Did you want to eat something before we go? Or just share the pint of ice cream we have at home?”
“That pint sounds kinda tempting, but that’s not dinner. Hey, I thought you were Mr. Health Guy, out here making people’s lives healthier?” She chided with a smile, poking at your scrub pants.
“Hey, I’m off the clock!” You whined.
Zuha thought for a moment, but her eyes ultimately landed back on you. Something was off.
“Hey, did you really like this suit?” She raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Of course. It fits you perfectly, Zuha.” You answered slowly, suspicious of the sudden question.
Her eyes look past you, in between the different convenience stores. Her grip on your forearm tightened slightly.
“Do you wanna take it off me?”
“Dammit, Zuha, I knew it!”
“Come on. We’ll be quick.”
“We’ll be caught.”
“We’ll be quiet,” Zuha affirmed, steadfast. Her legs extended as she dragged you into a small passageway just beside a store. The path was dimly lit (of course) with only a blinking lamp post on the far end.
“Plus…” Zuha started as she pulled you into the shadows, her arms squeezing both your shoulders. “It’s not for me.”
“What do you mean?” You whispered.
Zuha turned around, planting both palms on the brick wall of the building. She arched her back, the suit jacket trailing off her sides, showing off the round shape of her ass. The suede shimmered slightly, drawing lines where her legs and juicy thighs met the outline of her butt. Your meat suddenly flexed in anticipation.
“As a thank you. For waiting for me.” She said with a bite of her lip. “And for everything else.”
You approached her slowly, your hand coming in contact with her waist. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Think of it as payment. For the times I only let you get me off.”
“You’re crazy.” You said, head leaning in to take a whiff of her neck.
Zuha moaned at the proximal contact. You moved both your hands to hug around her waist, feeling the sleek material of her vest. You made a slight U-turn, fingers trailing upwards to cup her chest as you kissed the spot below her ear. You finally closed the distance with the tent poking through your pants as you brushed your bulge at the cleft of her asscheeks.
“Mmm, fuck, that for me?”
“I’m yours.” Your right hand squeezed her tit as your left pushed against her fit stomach, bringing her whole arched body closer to you. Your cock rubbed against the material of your scrub pants, grinding against her plump ass and poking in between from time to time. You leaned against her shoulder, face buried in her fragrant vanilla-shampooed hair, grunting as you finally had your way with her.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry for leaving you— fuck— hanging all the time.” Her palm crumpled the hair on the back of your head as she turned slightly to kiss your cheek. You ground your cock harder against her, gripping her flesh tighter as if she’ll disappear right before you orgasm. You moaned in unison as you humped her. But you needed more. With a quick release, you pulled down your scrub pants and boxers, exposing your straining dick to the night air. You brought your shaft closer as you humped along the groove of her ass.
“Fuck, did you take it out? Oh God, fuck, yes, that’s so fucking hot. I can feel how hard you are.” The older woman mewled as her hair became disheveled, the thought of your bare cock rubbing against her ass exhilarating her to a new height.
The soft feel of the suede and the roundness of her butt were the perfect velvet cushion to hump and grind against as you held her in place. Beads of pre-cum slicked the length of your shaft, making your strokes extra slippery and smooth. Zuha cried and whimpered your name as she felt your entire length run between her cheeks. You drove your meat further, alternating between a long stroke and a deep push between her thighs. You crept both of your hands underneath her vest, feeling for the bottom of her bra. You snuck a couple fingers in, rubbing and pinching at her hardened peaks.
“Holy fuck, you’re amazing. Yes, yes, oh God yes, just like that, just like that.” Her fingers tightened around your hair.
With a sudden bang and the sound of hollow plastic falling, both of you froze. Your eyes panicked, darting to the end of the passageway where the convenience store was. A cat had knocked over several empty water jugs and plastic gallons of oil. A bell rang, and the store owner stared at the ruckus, a frustrated cry accompanying his irritated hair scratch.
He was now facing the alley.
Toward the both of you.
Any closer — any noisier — and you’d both be caught.
“Hey, wait, wait,” Zuha says with slight concern.
You buried your face back in her hair, adrenaline flowing as your dick did most of the thinking. You gave her a hump.
Zuha lightly smacked your cheek. “Hey, c’mon!” She snapped at you quietly.
But you didn’t listen. You grinded against her more aggressively now, your dick smacking her ass.
“Fuck!” Zuha croaks out.
The store owner’s head snapped towards the alley. You saw him squint, trying to make sense of the shadows.
“Fucking stop it, I swear.” Zuha released a warning alongside a breathy moan.
You brought one of your hands to her mouth, covering her lips but leaving her nose. You continued grinding now, slowly but surely, savoring the unexpected audience. Zuha seemed to notice this too; her complaints now coos and moans into your hand.
The store owner shook his head and finally knelt down to fix the spilled containers. He headed back in shortly after.
Zuha smacked your shoulder this time. “You really are an idiot, huh?”
You held her hip with one hand now, watching your shaft bump up against the blue velvet material. You brought your other hand to her throat and pulled her back towards you, your chest and cock now pressing flush against her.
“God, you’re lucky I like you.” She breathed out, turning her head to the side to meet your lips as you mashed your member against her.
“I like you a lot, Zuha.” You murmured against her temple, hugging her a bit harder, a bit of sentiment breaking through the sex-fueled cracks of your resolve.
“Yeah? I bet you do.” Her hold on your hair loosened as her hand traveled downward, finding your thick rod. She stroked it a few times, spreading precum along the length. “Mmm, fuck, you’re so big. You feel good?”
“God, fuck yes.” You brought her hand back up to your hair as you took charge, breathing in the scent of her sweat as you angled her face towards you. Zuha gasped out an open-mouthed moan, feeling you drive your erection further between her thick ass. You shove your tongue in her mouth as she groans out your name, meeting her in a raspy and sloppy kiss.
You rubbed back against her harder, feeling the rising pressure in your groin just steaming to get out. She responded in kind, meeting your humps halfway, colliding against you with the velvet feel of her pants.
“Where do you wanna cum?” She rasped out.
“M-mouth..?” You requested through clenched teeth.
“Fuck.” Zuha said with an accidental gasp. “Great choice.”
You humped erratically now, the piston-like rhythm now lost to impending release. Zuha’s body rocks alongside yours as she welcomes the roughness. After a few awkward humps and grinds, you feel a surge travel up from the base of your cock to the tip, your meat flexes as you finally groan out in pleasure completed.
“Cumming?”
“Mhm, y-yeah.”
You leaned back a bit, hand wrapping your cock to keep the stimulation going. Zuha quickly whipped around and crouched, hands on both your thighs, as she opened her mouth. You leaned forward a bit, tip now coming in contact with her tongue. The LED lamp’s light crawled through the shadows from the end of the alley, lighting up Zuha’s clear face as she looked up at you while steadying herself.
You stared at Zuha, at the stray lock of hair that traveled down her face, the slightly scuffed suede suit now a juxtaposition to the raunchy situation you were both in, and her delicate lips now parted to accept your release. You stroked yourself faster, groaning as your knees shuddered and spine tingled, until you finally climaxed. You spurted out a rope of cum, shooting half into Zuha’s mouth and up diagonally to her right cheek. You let out a strained growl, another wave shooting out and splattering on her tongue, the orgasm hitting you way harder than expected. Zuha stroked it for you, aiding you in emptying your balls deeper into her mouth. She helped you ride out your orgasm, catching each drop with care.
With a gulp, she smirked. “Well?”
“Fuck— thank you.” You gulped, exhausted and palpitating, your cock still out.
She giggled before rising from the cement to pat you on the chest. Her hand slid up to the side of your face as she leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek.
“Of course.” She cooed, her thumb stroking your jaw gently.
You zipped up awkwardly, patting down the crumples and folds of your shirt. “So now do you wanna go home?”
-
Zuha could be confusing at times, but in the short span you’ve known her, you were aware that your feelings had grown ever clearer — you already loved her. It was easy, exciting, and expected.
Sure, Zuha was a woman of opposites within herself, but with you, it was different. You got to fill in whatever gaps Zuha had, and you enjoyed the “work”, so to speak.
You’d ease tightly-wound nights she spent studying with instant cocoa and a few back rubs. Funnily enough, you could now also recall off the top of your head different cases she’d said mattered to her defense. You’d have breakfast ready for her whenever you had to leave her apartment early, and you’d be there in the evening, picking up scattered clothes she’d be too tired to pick up.
And she filled you, too.
Zuha was quick with a quiz or two on your recent lessons and cases. She’d roleplay as different patients with varying diagnoses, practicing how quick you could diagnose and plan interventions. On your down times, she’d buy you more bread, masking the sentiment with a flashy grin, but secretly making sure you never forgot to eat. She’d click her tongue and fume for a moment whenever you food-stained your shirt, but you would always catch her preparing the washing machine right after. Her age is apparent in those moments.
You already loved Zuha, but telling her was a different thing altogether. You’ve noticed it for a long time, how she would dodge conversations about it, simply skirt around the topic, or silence you with a kiss. She never talked about love, or loving, or falling in love, and so you’ve always chalked it up to her not being used to it, what with her alleged marriage (you were still very curious about that) not being the best and how she’s never really needed to love another. You knew she was trying to open herself up, and you would be there every step of the way.
However, you also knew this thing with Zuha was different. It had to be. Sure, it’s only been a couple of months, but forehead kisses and buying groceries together seemed to convey otherwise. You’ve already considered Zuha’s flat your place too, and she wouldn’t have it any other way either. You’ve already shared countless nights together — snoring, arguing, or kissing. If that wasn’t love, then you don’t know what the hell you’ve been doing with her all this time.
And so, since it was now also your 4th month together, you planned to tell her tonight.
-
With a click of your phone, you send a reply to Zuha, reminding her to stay safe on her way home.
She texts back a smiley face with sunglasses and finger guns. “You know it.”
For the 5th time now, she’s had to stay a bit late on campus, so you decided to go ahead and prepare dinner for when she arrived. You run some plates under the faucet after finally setting down tonight’s dinner: a few well-seared cuts of beef, beautiful and silky mashed potatoes, a yogurt bowl with mixed berries for dessert, and a nice bottle of wine you bought on the detour home. Then, as you both ate, you’d tell her you love her. Boom — sparks fly, she’ll tell you she loves you too, and then you’ll be a hero. After dinner, you’d lead her to the couch and bring out your secret weapon to seal the deal: a pint of ice cream and a Disney movie. You hum to yourself, satisfied, as you fold a few of the clean laundry that piled on the corner stool of Zuha’s (and yours) room.
You hear the faint jingle of Zuha’s keys as the door finally swings open. She steps in, this wonderful woman wearing an oversized army green parka over her baggy grey hoodie, loose jorts, and dark leggings that pair with her beat-up sneakers — stylish as always. She pushes her glasses up her nose as she readjusts the strap of her (obviously heavy) duffel bag. Her gaze scans and lands first on the food on the table and then finally on you. Her face beams as her eyes turn into crescent moons of glee, and her nose scrunches for an imperceptible second.
She smiles at you. “Sorry, I’m late.”
Your arm wraps around her waist as your other hand cradles the back of her head. You lean forward and plant your lips on hers. Her arms snake and cross just behind your neck as she leans into you, surrendering to your kiss.
“Mmm, you missed me?” She whispers with a smirk, her eyes shimmering.
“I always do.” You kiss her forehead. “I made dinner.”
“Thank you.” Her fingers run through your hair appreciatively. She pecks you one last time before leaving the embrace to turn around and behold the dinner.
“You’ve always been the better cook.” Zuha shrugs. “Meat and potatoes? What’s the occasion?” She chuckles.
“You tell me.” You smiled as you led her to the table, pulling the chair out and seating her. You pop the wine bottle and fill her glass halfway.
“And wine? Seriously, what’s up with you?” She gasps lightheartedly.
“C’mon, Zuha. It’s our 4th month together.” You tease.
She gulps down an eighth of the wine with wide eyes. “Oh gosh, no, yeah, I knew that!” She smirks with a cocky brow.
“Yeah, so just sit back and let me serve you.” You put the wine off to the side, stab a couple of pieces of the meat, spoon some of the silky spud, and lather the rich demi-glace over the ensemble. You graciously offer the plate up for her judgment.
She picks up her fork and tries the meat. Then the mashed potatoes. Then the meat with the sauce.
“Holy God,” Zuha mutters with a full cheek.
You burst out laughing. “Good?”
She nods vigorously, the strands of her bangs bouncing in unison. “More than good— Christ.”
“Well thank you, Zuha. I appreciate that.”
“No, you! I appreciate you. You have to make this for me all the time.” She scarfs down another bite.
“Zuha, slow down.” You say with a chuckle. You take a bite off your own plate and relish in your recently learned dish (thank God for YouTube). “So how was school?” you continued.
The older woman then goes off on a tangent about how a certain law was amended just yesterday, effectively disassembling the defense they had set up for their next trial. She vouched for her argument’s validity, citing more and more cases you had no knowledge of, and expressed her exasperation with the amendment. How they knew which laws to amend to throw a wrench in Zuha’s defense really irked her.
Despite the obvious anger dormant in her, Zuha glowed. She was passionate, fiercely intelligent, and dedicated. And that’s what you loved — Zuha just being herself.
And so you finally work up the courage.
“…but, it’s fine. That’s the law, I guess. If that’s what the law says, I’ll just have to find another theoretical basis. Which is a lot of work. But, I’ll manage.” Her brows finally ease as she catches herself in the zone. Her gaze rises, cuts your jaw, and meets back with you. She displays a goofy, toothy grin.
“Hey. I love you.”
“What?” Her voice ups in pitch as she abruptly stops chewing.
“I said, I love you.”
Zuha’s mouth hangs slightly open. The faint jazz music from the nearby speakers floats through the dead air.
You chuckle once, slightly nervous. “Zuha, I love you.”
“N-no, yeah. I know, I know you do.”
You chuckle again, a bit weaker now. “Well, I mean…I was expecting something more than ‘I know’.”
“No, I-I do…y’know…” Zuha attempts to complete her sentence but trails off after her stuttering, her disposition now uncharacteristic of the confident woman you met.
“Yeah…” you nod slowly, heart pounding for all the wrong reasons. “So can you say it back?”
“What?” Zuha tries to tame her ragged breathing.
“…say you love me?” Unconsciously, your voice verges on a plea now. Your hands cramp and your fingers freeze, desperate to cross the meager distance of a few centimeters toward her clenched hand. “Is it too early for that? Or, am I pressuring you? Is that why you can’t say it yet?”
“No, it’s not that. Look, I do, okay?” She sighs, her gaze now dull and inaccurate, rarely meeting yours. “But I…”
“What’s wrong?”
An inhale. “I’m afraid of saying it…”
“Afraid of saying it? W-why…?”
“Because saying it makes it…”
“Makes it what…?”
“Real.”
The mood vastly changes now. The apartment suddenly has this uncomfortable weight, like a heavy load on your shoulders, and you’re quickly getting exhausted.
Your breathing quickens as your eyebrows finally fall into a furrow. “So this…” You pointed at both of you. “…wasn’t?”
“It’s not like that.”
“So what is it like then?” You whine now, letting go of your cutlery, appetite now obviously extinct.
“I just meant that saying it makes it…official.”
“There it is again, Zuha. So was this all unofficial for you? I mean— what the hell even are we then?”
“We’re…”
“I’ve practically moved out and lived here, Zuha. ” You push back the plate. “Was all this nothing to you?”
“It’s not nothing.” Zuha’s voice finally settles into a whisper.
“We sleep together, we go to class together, we go home together, we do laundry together— Zuha, we buy groceries together. And all this time you’ve been afraid of making it ‘real’? So what is this? W-what’s— What are we doing?” Your forehead crinkles as you gulp, studying her face.
Nothing.
“Did you even know it’s our 4th month together?” You continue, voice shaky now.
She looks away, her face turned to the side, looking toward the different dishes that were drying.
“Zuha.”
Her eyebrows furrow a bit more in response, and her chin trembles slightly. But she doesn’t reply. She looks down instead.
“Kazuha.” You drop her nickname.
She looks up at you, her eyes suddenly now crystal-like with the tears finally building. Her chin wobbles as her bottom lip quivers into a pout. Her eyebrows lose all their pointedness as her gaze is disarmed.
She cries.
Dammit. You immediately scooch your chair out to walk over to her. You lean down and wrap her in an embrace.
“You’re mad.” Her voice is a shaky tantrum as she laments the loss of her nickname. The once cool and sleek woman, now a fragile sobbing mess in your hands. Almost like a child, the older woman whimpers into your chest.
So, you press your lips against her forehead as you try to console her with a few gentle hushes. “No, no, no, I’m sorry. I’m not mad, Zuha.”
“Then why’d you call me Kazuha?” Her lips form a pout again as she looks up at you. Your heart aches as you stare at her.
You breathe out a sigh slowly. “Because I’m serious, Zuha. I need you to talk to me because this matters to me.”
“Okay.” Zuha sniffles a bit, her gaze studying yours, then she finally nods. “But I’m Zuha. I’ll always be Zuha now.” She adds while pounding your chest gently with her clenched fist.
You kiss her forehead a few seconds longer before you part. “Oh, jeez, who’s the child now?” You chuckle softly.
Zuha rolls her eyes as she sniffs, her cheeks are flush and her hair is messy. You carry your chair over to her side of the table so you can now sit in front of her. She dabs a few tissues on her nose and the corner of her eyes before sitting up straight. She tries looking at you, but her eyes wander, failing to hold contact.
You reach over to squeeze her palm. “I’m not mad, Zuha. But I am serious. I need to know now.”
She lets go of a long-withheld sigh. She studies your face, weighing her thoughts and words precisely. “I’m scared because the last time I told someone I loved them, they hurt me. And I never make the same mistake twice, you know that about me. So, I just—“
Her breathing hitches a bit before she’s able to gather herself, her tears now refusing to run down her cheeks.
“I never told you…even if I knew I felt it. I was afraid because if we made things real, then it’d be real enough to hurt me. And I never ever want to get hurt again.” Her brows come together in worry, her head now looking down at her lap.
You ease back in your chair. So she did love you back.
“But…” Zuha starts again. “I’m also afraid because I know you want the real thing. And I think the real thing you see is us staying here together and living our lives here. And I don’t think we can have that because…”
You nod slowly, nervous about what comes next.
“…because I’ve been taking ballet classes again.” Zuha finally confesses. “M-my old ballet school…they’ve always been asking me to come back and try again, saying they’ll save me a spot.”
“Your ballet school…” You murmur. “…in the Netherlands.”
She nods, eyes a bit red from the sobbing, but scanning your face for your reaction, gauging whatever emotions you feel.
“Huh. So all this time you’ve been coming home late…?”
Zuha nods with a nervous bite to her lip, moving slowly toward her duffel bag on the floor. She unzips the bag to pull out her ballet shoes, a faded rose pink with minimal wear — obviously new.
“You’ve been taking ballet for weeks, then.” Your voice comes out weak. Defeated.
“…yes.” Zuha’s voice was weaker and tinier.
You remain quiet for a second. “You told me it was for school, Zuha. You lied.”
“I was gonna tell you, eventually.”
“Zuha—” You speak, voice teetering on annoyed now. You take a small sigh. “When was 'eventually' going to be?”
“I don’t know, alright? I was working up the courage, but then…” She bites her lip. “Loving you made it more complicated.”
“Complicated? How?”
“Because I knew loving you would make the decision harder.”
Oh. The decision.
You finally let go of the weight of the apartment on your shoulders.
“So you’ve decided.” You say, flatly.
“It’s—it’s not like that. You know it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like, Zuha?” Something was rising in your chest now. You feel your eyebrows furrow and grow heavier, this deep burning feeling churning in your stomach. You scan Zuha, immediately rifling through the numerous details of her face you’ve memorized, hoping — pleading — to have just the faintest idea of what was on her mind. (Looking back, your gaze sharpened that day. She felt it too.)
“I was just looking to try it out...” Her words stumble and trip. “But I can’t really drop school again, and my family’s still staying here, plus I don’t have the money for another apartment and tuition, and I absolutely won’t forgive myself if I force you to come with me. I mean, your parents are here, and I know you don’t want to leave them. I also know you want to set up a clinic here, and I know you’ll be shelling out money you don’t have to try and follow me now. So I don’t…” Zuha racks her brain in the pause but ultimately fails. “…I don’t know.”
You click your tongue on instinct. Zuha winces a bit.
“I’ve always been honest with you, Zuha.” Your anger is slowly cooling now as you feel yourself pull back from the conversation — indifference. Zuha’s eyes suddenly widen as you stand up.
“N-no, wait, hey, please. Don’t leave. Where are you going?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Zuha. I just need to think.”
“No, please, please. I can be more honest with you, please.”
“I know, but…” You sigh out, half hurt, a quarter tired, and on the verge of tears, and a quarter frustrated. “It’s time you’ve been more honest with yourself, Zuha.”
You gather the plates from the table slowly as Zuha sits there. Her puffy eyes stare at you helplessly, watching your every move with a pout on her face. She was desperate to forget all that had happened and just hug you. But she doesn’t. She knows you. You’ve always needed time and space whenever you guys get into a big fight, and she’s always respected that.
You decide to sleep with your back turned to Zuha.
-
Your phone buzzes you awake. 5:45. It’s a Friday.
You try to rise from the bed, but you feel a weight sprawled across your chest. Zuha.
In the toss and turn of the night, her arm was now wrapped around you, gripping your side of the covers tightly. You look down and see a pajama’d leg also interlocked with yours. You sigh as you stare at the top of Zuha’s head, burrowing closer to your side.
“Zuha, I have to go.” You whisper.
She shakes her head.
“Zuha, I need to leave.”
“Please, I’m sorry.”
“Zuha, I meant the clinic.”
Her fingers finally loosen. “Sorry, I thought you meant…”
“Oh, Zuha.” You squeeze her forearm. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.” You urge as you finally stand up. You stride a bit, looking around for your bag before you hear the mattress groan. Zuha snatches your hand, her bare face finding your gaze. Her face remains angelic despite the puffiness around her eyes and the pink hue of the tip of her nose. Her straight hair flows down smoothly, making it hard to decipher whether or not she slept at all or was simply blessed with a higher power’s favor to always wake up perfect. And yet her lips were still in a pout. A weak one, but you know it was there.
“About our conversation last night…”
“It’s fine, Zuha. We can talk about it when you’re ready.” Your eyes wander around her flat, thinking back to your first night, a far cry from the very night you just had.
She reels you in gently, slowly, like you were some boat about to be moored. You resist at first, but let her pull you in an embrace. You stand at the foot of the bed while she kneels to try to stay upright.
While her arms envelop your waist, you kiss her forehead, unsure about whether or not a kiss on the forehead was allowed or if the rules of your and Zuha’s “arrangement” have forbidden that and only allowed for quick hugs and gentle hand presses.
Zuha pulls you downward lightly, kissing you back on your forehead.
-
Five days pass by after that. Scant conversation was all that remained in Zuha’s apartment. A few scattered pecks here and there and a couple of hand squeezes that lingered a little too long also served as words unsaid. You’d sometimes share a brief gaze with Zuha, too, paragraphs and essays of what you wished to say would pour out telepathically, but it never sufficed. The conversation never came.
You’ve been going home more frequently, too. Your parents seemed to understand not to talk to you about it, only settling for small hugs and pats on the back whenever the topic shifted to Zuha or when you thought of her. Your room was never scarce of her, though. On your bedside, you kept a framed picture of Zuha from your 2nd month together, one where her goofy grin was evident, and her nose was scrunched as she watched a movie. The picture helped you sleep soundly.
Did you still love her? Of course. You’ve thought long and hard about dropping everything and going with her to the Netherlands, but it just wouldn’t work. There’s not enough money in your name for a plane ticket, let alone the funds needed to basically start living there. You couldn’t even bear to explain to your parents how your schooling would work. Ultimately, your paths have officially diverged. You know ballet’s a strict sport, and so you know long distance will only delay the inevitable. Heck, it might just cause a larger rift, now that you think about it. You already envision the long arguments over the phone about selfishness, not having enough time for each other, setting priorities, and timezone contradictions that would end in either tears, the “End Call” button, or, as you expertly predict, a breakup.
Now, here you are, finally clocking out of the clinic and walking down that same street toward the train station, dreading the old commute. You pass by the food stands, ignoring the scents and aromas of crackling food over coal heat, and stride faster down the sidewalk. Your eyes wander for a bit until you see Fors. You observe the cafe for a bit. It was busy as ever, catering to the nightlife now.
You see customers exit the establishment with paper bags in hand, and you briefly remember Zuha. Has she eaten? Probably not. You sigh for a moment, but after a couple of backtracks, end up trudging in to buy a croissant anyway. You tuck away the bread neatly and reroute to her apartment.
Up a couple of alleyways and bypass roads, you spot her apartment with the lights still off. Being a quarter past 5, she was still probably at school, packing up last-minute books and notes. And so, you let yourself in.
Zuha’s perfume was comforting. It floated through the apartment so much that you could smell her everywhere. Her apartment was still the same, but one part of the wall in the living room was now bare. You walk over to where the couch is and see an overturned picture frame. You flip it back up to see Zuha, the same picture that got her wide smile as she was locked in a spin. You sigh, staring at the picture — at the woman you love. You stroke your thumb over her cheek as you sigh deeply. You make the decision to hang it back up.
You sit down on the couch now, taking everything in: the smell, the hazy stovetop light, the different plants, and the ballet picture. In the quiet stillness of the apartment, your heart aches loudly. You gulp at the thought of not being able to give Zuha what she wanted, how she had to second-guess her dreams just because she ended up loving you too.
And then you feel it. Your bottom lip trembles.
God, fuck, no, you think to yourself as you shake your head, sniffling harshly to try and stifle the waterworks. You pull out your phone instead, hoping to just doomscroll and bypass emotions flowing out of you. You open up Instagram, only to close it back down. Your thumb shakes, obviously confused at the conflicting stimuli your body and mind seem to both be shouting. You settle on TikTok, but that doesn’t work either.
“Here are 10 simple date night dishes you could make for your—“
You’ve gotta be kidding me, you shout internally. You immediately exit the app, flinging your phone on the opposite end of the couch. You cross your arms for a bit, pinching the bridge of your nose as you sniffle.
But you can’t resist. Your fingers leap out.
You reach over to grab your phone, and you pull up YouTube, scroll for a bit, and find a video. Kitri Variation - Bolshoi Ballet. You hesitate, but something tells you to hit play.
The mix of warm and cool lights spread across the large wooden stage as the audience hushed straggling whispers and phrases. The camera wobbled a bit, zoomed out, but then focused shortly. From what you could see, the theater was grand and large, housing hundreds of red suede seats that surrounded the wide stage in a semi-circle. The stage was tall as it was wide, sporting these huge columns of burgundy curtains that cut the performance into sizable chunks and interludes. With the whole place now settling into quiet, music finally commences. A few booms and crescendos of classical music filled the theater as the strings started to pick up. The plucks and twangs of instruments invited the audience to a trance-like state, focusing on the next performer striding toward the center.
And there she was — Kazuha. Younger, a bit shorter, but with her shining smile still preserved and untouched after all these years. The spotlight cast a graceful shadow on the floor.
After a beat of silence, Zuha erupted in movement. She leaped and pounced and fell and zig-zagged across the stage. Her arms were graceful and strong, and would occasionally whip into shape. She’d perform on pointe, showing off her balanced and calculated lines while maintaining this air of pomp. With a couple of dips and hops, her face came into view. Her adorable face showed off a wide grin as her nose scrunched.
You chuckle softly, the light from your phone illuminating your face and part of the darkness that shrouded the living room, beyond the reach of her lamp in the corner and the kitchen lights. The lights bounce off the tears slowly creeping down your cheek. You laugh helplessly. “Jesus, I look so stupid.”
You keep watching, though.
You chuckle, glassy-eyed, as Zuha flitted through the stage with a smile, visions of the time you spent with her flooding your mind. You remember the smirks she’d make or the glares she’d produce. Hell, you remember her laugh whenever she had to take care of you when you were too sick to function.
As the music finally kicked up a notch, signaling a climax in the performance, Zuha fell into a series of fouetté turns, rotating on one leg while her other leg whipped around to propel her.
And she spun.
The video ended with roars of applause and cheers as Zuha took a small bow at the end before retreating offstage.
You put the phone down to finally wipe some of the tears running down the corner of your eyes, sniffling weakly as you groan out a laugh. The tremble in your lip slowly starts to settle. You lean back on the headrest, your stare landing on the apartment ceiling. You rest your puffy eyes before slowly drifting off to sleep, clutching the Fors paperbag close to you.
-
The next thing you know, you hear your name.
“Hey.”
Your eyes shift for a bit, discerning reality from sleep.
You feel a poke on your cheek.
“Have you been here long?” You open your eyes to see Zuha staring right back at you, her arm atop the sofa headrest, her eyes wide as she observes. She wore a plain white t-shirt paired with some high-waisted jeans — a casual day at school, it seemed.
You’re groggy, but you take a quick glance at the time. 7:12.
“I guess so.” You whisper as Zuha adjusts when you finally sit up.
“Hey, your eyes.” Her hand travels upward to cup your cheek. “Have you been crying?”
You shake your head minutely. “I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes fall down toward your unlocked phone. On her video. On the hanging ballet portrait.
You scan the emotions running through Zuha. She stalls for a bit, digesting in silence. Then a sigh.
“Could you tell I was nervous?” She nods toward your phone.
“No, not at all.”
“Well, I was. My knees trembled before and after I got on that stage. Puked a couple times, too.”
“You were incredible, Zuha. You’ve always been incredible.”
She smiles subtly. Her eyes were puffy as well.
“Hey, listen—“
“You should do it.” You cut her off.
“What?”
“The Netherlands.”
“You want me to…go?”
“Yes. And I know you never really meant to ask for my permission, Zuha.” You cup her face. “But, I’m sure you’d still be a heck of a lawyer if you decide to come back, though.”
She briefly bites her lip, processing what you just said.
“You never had to lie to me, you know? I don’t want you to think for a second that I would have stopped you from going back to ballet. I’ve seen the way your eyes light up whenever we talk about it. You also know I’ve caught you watching your old videos before.”
Her head droops, but you lift it back up gently. You smile through the blade of her eyes.
“Look, I love you, Zuha. Not just the idea of being with you.” You rub a stray tear away from her eye. “And if loving you means you have to go away…” You bite the corner of your lip slightly as you nod. “Then that’s fine. My love stays the same.”
You try to slow time, but only muster up the power to stop the physical environment. Clocks halt, cars brake, stars stall. But not Zuha. Zuha breathes slowly as she locks eyes with you.
“I love you too,” she speaks in a whisper, getting shy at the overdue reply. “Oh God, I love you. I’m in love with you. You have my whole heart.” Her eyes are stunted waterfalls as she pouts up at you, finally baring herself wholly to you. This was Zuha — not the ballerina, not the lawyer, not the daughter. Just Zuha.
She gasps, revitalized by newfound oxygen, as if saying I love you back was a long, foreign feeling to her lips that she’s finally found again.
She inhales more now. “Gosh, I love you, and I’m sorry for lying to you— for going behind your back, for coming home late, and for not telling you. I-I should have told you because I owe that to you. Because I shouldn’t hurt you. Because I love you.”
You sniff back a sob, but you ultimately nod. “Zuha, I already forgave you the morning after you finally told me. I only wish you'd been more honest with me. I would have understood, y’know?” Her eyebrows crease, but you kiss the top of her head, whispering into her hair as you hold her close. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, you big baby.”
She rubs her eyes with the back of her wrists, chuckling stupidly as she realizes how her puffy eyes and tantrum must have looked: childish. She grins as her nose scrunches, but she wills it away.
“You don’t have to keep hiding that.” You flick your thumb lightly at her forehead. “Just…grin whenever you want to, laugh whenever you want to, do ballet whenever you really want to.”
A slight pout from her as she breathes out.
“The Zuha I know doesn’t need permission from anyone,” you continue.
She scoffs it off faintly with a shake of her head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I’m serious, y’know. There’s a Zuha inside you that’s tough and enduring.” You slide a part of her locks behind her ear. “Not like Lawyer Kazuha. No, this Zuha is even tougher. This Zuha’s been tough for a very long time. And she doesn’t care what other people think. At least, that’s what she hopes for. Because deep down, she’s sweet. She’s warm. She laughs. She adores sleeping in. But she hides these things by being tough, thinking that letting them slip through the seams means weakness.” You take her face into your palms. Your thumb grazes her cheeks slowly. “But it’s not. I’ve seen her let go and just be herself. And in all of those moments, I’ve always thought of how tough she is, tough enough to laugh and be foolish and joke at her own expense. Tough enough to be vulnerable and to keep chasing passions despite the things she’s gone through in life. Tough enough to allow herself to scrunch her nose.” You tap the end of her nose gently.
“I love you.” She says in a low whisper. “And I missed you.”
You chuckle. “I know, Zuha. I love you, and I missed you, too.”
She buries her face into your chest as you wrap her in a small embrace, inhaling your scent as you breathe. Her hand reaches up from her side toward you, but she accidentally hits the paper bag.
“That for me?” Zuha’s face suddenly beams, like the tears that had just fallen were inconsequential to the now more important matter: bread.
“It’s for us, you selfish girl.” You chide as you prop yourself up on the couch to open the bag, pulling out the two croissants and placing them both on a plate of Fors tissue paper. “It’s still fresh…” You poke a floppy part in Zuha’s croissant. It doesn’t bounce back. “…you can have mine instead.”
Her nose scrunches for longer now. She gives a grin, flashing off her pearly whites, before opening her mouth.
“What?” You ask.
Her eyebrows furrow as she pouts, her cheeks rounding out her face. She points to her mouth wordlessly, almost cartoonishly impatient.
“Jeez, you really must have missed me if you’re acting like that.” You set aside your own croissant to focus on Zuha’s. She hums lightly as she opens up once again.
“Feed me both croissants, and I’ll show you how else I’ve missed you.”
-
The reuniting kiss with Zuha is all tongue, teeth, and tension. Her hands immediately trail upwards to crumple the hairs on the back of your head, pushing you towards her mouth. She releases a sloppy, hot exhale as your lips separate, sounding off whenever both of you reposition. You feel her pushing against you, pressing her lips further and further, licking, sucking, and sometimes biting.
“Zuha, wait.”
“Mmph. Fuck no.” She straddles you now, both hands on the sides of your face as she makes you look up at her. Her thumb presses lightly on your chin, making your jaw push back and opening your mouth.
Then she spits inside.
“Oh, fuck.” You wheeze out as you drink the warm saliva Zuha just produced.
“You like that?” A husky whisper.
You nod profusely.
She dives back in to make out with you and then pulls back again to spit more in your mouth. Zuha repeats this for a while, roughly rocking against your clothed crotch. A chorus of names and whispers fills the small apartment, the church-like atmosphere accentuated by the warm orange glow of a lamp off to the side. This was worship and sacrilege at the same time — you gnashed teeth, spoke in tongues, and sought salivation.
“Ugh!” You groan out as Zuha pulls back on your hair sharply, your head slamming back on the sofa. Her arms wrap around your head as she looks down on you, her wavy hair draping downward. With vigor, Zuha grinds her hips in a circle, sliding against your stiff member, her eyes watching your every reaction.
“Oh—oh fuck, yes.” Her mouth forms an “O” as she gasps your name, her breath colliding with yours. She moans into your mouth, holding you close, teasing you with a kiss, but only ever gracing you with light brushes against your lips.
Zuha suddenly rips your hands off her slim waist, lowering them down to her ass, the roundness of her cheeks ever felt through her tight denims. You squeeze courteously as you both moan in unison. You hear your name and other profanities spill forth from her mouth, her words slurring and seething as she desperately sated herself on dry humping you.
You inhale quickly as you abruptly stand up, carrying her lithe body as she clings onto your shoulders. “Mmm, room time?”
“Fucking do me on the kitchen counter.” She breathes out.
You shove your tongue into her mouth as you march over toward the kitchen. You hear the separate thuds of Zuha’s heels fall to the floor as she tightens her legs around you. With restraint, you finally withdraw from her lips (Zuha’s tongue was quite persuasive) and plop her down on the tiled countertop just beside her small rice cooker as you work on unbuttoning her jeans. Zuha leans back as she bites her lip, her gaze a blade waiting for your next move. You finally slide her pants off, revealing the smooth skin of her hips, her round, muscly thighs, and the wet spot on her light-colored panties. You take a deep whiff of her scent, the salty, sweaty, heady musk invading your nostrils, making your cock flex painfully. You release a rugged breath as you help Zuha lift her ass to slide off her panties. You consider fucking her there and then, but you fall to your knees and succumb to your baser desires.
You give her shaven pussy a long experimental lick.
Zuha squeals out at the surprise. “Oh God, yes, yes, I needed this, too. Oh, I need you so much.”
You hook your arms around her thighs, falling into the usual motions of routine. She was atop, in all her sexy glory, and you were down there once more, adoring and venerating the wet folds before you. You keep up a consistent stroke, tonguing and licking her clit as you rub two fingers across her splayed pussy. You alternate a few times, kissing her sex and licking the inside of her meaty thighs, watching Zuha groan or mewl depending on where your tongue dared to go. After a few more licks, you switch to a slower pace while sucking on her nub. Her leaking juices drip down the grooves of her crotch and the crevice of asscheeks, making the rim of her ass glisten. Zuha moans out slower now, her chest rising and falling as the tempo shifts. You coat your index and middle finger with her liquids before slowly entering her warmth.
“Jesus, fuck!” She nods as you look up at her, her right hand confused whether to tense and pull on your hair or ease and grip the back of your neck.
She opts for the former.
Your scalp stings, but the joy of pleasing Zuha far outweighs any pain she inflicted. You trail your fingers from her pussy and down to her tight rim. She squeals in surprise as you lose count of how much your name has been recited this night. With careful entry, you breach her tight asshole. A different kind of warmth wraps your fingers now — a hotter and tighter muscle, so paradoxical it keeps you inside when you want to pull out but eagerly sucks you back in when you want to penetrate. Zuha quickly verges on her release, the stimulation of all her holes making her legs twitch and squirm on your shoulders. Her voice picks up in pitch now as she closes her eyes in pent-up libido, her brows harshly furrowing and pointing to her ceiling, her hair flowing wildly with some sticking to her neck and forehead sweat. Bringing your other hand into play, you lick on her swelling clit as you finger both her holes.
“Motherfucker!— I’m yours, I’m all yours. Take me, make me cum. Please!” She runs her fingers through her own hair, her body twitching and her breath ragged as she locks you deeper between her legs.
With a final rub of your thumb on her clit, she cums. Wasting no time, you immediately get to work slurping up her pussy lips as her orgasm continues. You indulge in the tangy, salty mix of sex and love Zuha was offering, licking in long vertical strokes, making sure to cover wherever you haven’t covered yet. Her twitches die down slowly as her high subsides. Your tongue ventures lower again, reaching her puckered rim as you eat her out gently, matching her easing sighs and exhales, helping her return to baseline. Her eyes finally catch your gaze, staring at you and the highly obscene act you were committing.
“You feel good?” You whisper as you kiss the inside of her legs before rising up from the tiled floor.
Her arms wrap around your neck to pull you in. “So much fucking better now.” She whispers before smiling to kiss your cheek. She exhales deeply, angling your head to the side to kiss your neck sweetly.
You reach the smooth line of her back, fingers running up and down to feel her body, toned with constant discipline but curvy enough to grip and squeeze erotic flesh. You help remove the white t-shirt and throw it across the room. Zuha does the same, trailing her hand up from your abdomen and to your pecs before pulling your shirt off. Her palm briefly brushes your hardened nipples. You wince unexpectedly.
“Still sensitive?” She coos sweetly.
You chuckle and nod.
Her plotting eyes stare at you, a trance-like gaze taking over now, as she brings her hands to your shoulder blades, making you puff out your chest. Without breaking eye contact, she lowers her head to lick your nipple.
“Zuha.” You seethe through gritted teeth.
“Hm?” She continues to lick, spreading saliva around the areola. She licks the other one now, wrapping her lips around to suckle gently.
“Oh fuck, Zuha.”
“What is it?” Her head moves with each long lick, positioning and repositioning her tongue to get better angles. She releases the bud from her mouth to look up at you. “C’mon, tell me.” Her voice is a raspy whisper now.
“That feels good.” You wince out.
“What does?” She licks counterclockwise on your areola, avoiding the center. “This?” The flat of her tongue travels across your nipple.
“Or…” Zuha pulls back a bit. “…this?” She wraps her mouth around your whole nipple, her steaming mouth suckling while her tongue flicks the hardened tip.
“Gah, fuck! Y-Yes, Zuha, both. Both feel good.” Your brain processes the electricity traveling down your chest and up your spine. You were ticklish, but you felt yourself leaning in closer to Zuha.
Expertly, you feel her legs leave your lower back as her feet stop at the waistband of your boxers. She continues the assault on your sensitive bud, all while pushing your underwear downward, releasing your flexing shaft.
You let out an impressed chuckle. “Um…”
“Ballet.” Zuha boasts with a strange mixture of horny pride evident in her voice as she speaks.
You comply, kicking the boxers away, your rod now level with her steaming pussy. With her other hand riding up your chest, her fingers roll your left nipple as her mouth latches onto the right. You squirm slightly, the warmth of her tongue slathering across your pebbling nip, as you grip the overhead handles of the cupboards. Her right hand sneakily slips in between your bodies, tracing down your abdomen and finally to your hard cock. You jolt forward on instinct, roughing your erection along Zuha’s palm. She giggles sweetly, her breath betraying how amused she is at the situation. She stops licking your chest for a bit to spit on her hand before returning it to your impatient shaft. She coats the length with her spit and works you, twisting and pulling along, her thumb glossing over the slightly reddened tip.
“God, it was always so fucking big.” She leans in, a hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer. Your foreheads touch now, your breaths colliding as her chest rises and falls. Her vanilla-scented hair was a mess, covering most of her features, but she made sure you could see her face in open-mouthed pleasure. She jerks you off for a couple more minutes, matching each moan you make with her own, before rubbing your cockhead against her slick entrance. You both groan simultaneously. You take the hint and prop both Zuha’s arms around your neck as you step in closer, palm guiding the tip, aiming at her core. You push your shaft a few times, the underside rubbing the ridge of her pussy lips, coating and lubricating it, teasing her in the process.
“Please.” She whimpers.
“Begging?” You chuckle, surprised. “That’s new.”
“Shut up. I’ve just been really needy…” She whispers, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
“No, no, I like it. It’s hot.” You give her a peck, once on the lips and once on the forehead.
“Fuck me then. Please.”
With a long stroke, you thrusted in. She cries out with a whip of her head, hitting the hanging cupboards with a thud.
“Shit!” Zuha laughs through the blunder, planting a kiss on your lips to keep the mood going. Her arms hook speedily around your neck as her legs interlock just at the small of your back.
“Careful.” You hiss through the kisses you trailed along the side of her jaw. You grip her waist as you thrust forward, fucking her against the cupboards more carefully now. You pull back to feel your length smoothly retreat from her tight groin, her heat contrasting with the temperature of her apartment. You slowly push back in, drawing out a long moan from Zuha, her brows furrowing as she shuts her eyes.
“Yes, yes, fill me— God.” She cries out, her nails scratching and gripping your traps as her shins push you forward. You tighten your hold on her sides, squeezing and bruising her waist, your digits digging into her curves. You fuck her deep and strong, leaning into your strokes as you show her how much you missed her. You hear her walls squelch around your cock with every entry, lubing up and down your meat. The sound is erotic, your bodies the instruments, her cries the accompaniment.
Zuha is tight and accepting, but also combative — she would bite your earlobe, pull on your hair, or scratch the line of your back. When your lips strayed too far, she’d pull you back in. When you’d deviate from the angle she likes, she’d lock her legs tighter. It was a struggle for control, really — a competition to show who’s missed the other more, and you’ve definitely missed her.
And so you slow down abruptly, shocking Zuha.
“W-what are you—“
“Ballet, right?” You grip her full thigh, shifting her right leg to prop it on your shoulder, pulling her body toward you in the process. She jerks forward with a deep groan as you remain locked inside her, her body finally angling sideward to accommodate the new position. You pressed against her deeper now, the position granting you new grounds to explore.
“Oh fuck— oh fuck, you’re so deep…” Zuha’s moans come from her diaphragm now. “You’re so deep in me. Oh God, oh God yes, yes.”
You take a look at her thighs, how perfectly succulent they are, inheriting the roundness from her ass as it tapers off to her sexy, toned legs. Her calf rests on the left side of your head as your cock spears her in twain. You were in the middle of it all, bearing witness to Zuha’s undoing. Her head rests against the tiled kitchen wall with her arms spilled over past the rice cooker and sink, steadying and gripping with all her ability.
You place a hand on the knee atop your shoulder, simultaneously reaching down to palm her exposed breast. You start slow at first with experimental strokes, feeling out the new angle and Zuha’s novel tightness. You allow her left leg to hang free in the space between your legs, finally giving you the most amount of access you could have, driving your midriff and groin flush against the inside of her thigh.
“Holy fuck.” Zuha whimpers.
“Are you okay?” You gulp, sweat dripping down your forehead.
“You’re splitting me. You’re hitting me so deep. Oh shit— Christ!” Zuha doesn’t even stare at you now. Her lids remain closed, brows scrunched in permanent euphoria.
You tighten your hold on her wanton thigh while rolling her hardened nip between your fingers. With every mewl and cry, you thrust back deeper into Zuha, analyzing the subtle changes in her face and expression, evaluating how you could switch up every pound, every rail into her greedy sex. Your cock strains each time you thrust, the tense muscle invading her warm walls repeatedly, driving itself to find release.
“Jesus, I could fuck you like this every day.” You release a quick exhale.
“Shit, yes, please. I want that, oh fuck I want that.”
“Yeah? You want me to fuck you like this every day, Zuha? You wanna be bent over, split in half, every time, hm?” You pick up the pace.
“God, yes!” She yelps now.
“Mhm, yeah? You want me to pound away at you, while you just take it? You want me to just fuck you over every surface in this apartment?” You time your thrusts right, creating a rhythm from the constant thud on the cupboards.
Zuha grips you, nails digging into your forearm, as you rough your way into her, your cock pulsing eagerly, hitting just the right spots to have her droning on and on with an incohesive hum.
“Answer.” You whisper low, a hand coming down to slap her ass cheek.
“Yes! Please, oh please…”
“Yeah, I bet you’re gonna miss me when you’re in the Netherlands, huh? You want me to fuck you there, too, hm? Fuck you all around your small flat just before class? Fuck you until you leak cum while you’re practicing?”
“Y-yes!— Fuck, fuck, fuck, I want that, please. It’s you, it’s you, I only want you, it’s so different when it’s you. Shit— I need you and this fucking cock of yours. Oh fuck! My fingers aren’t enough, please.” She pleads, whispering rapidly.
“You only want me, huh?”
“Oh God, yes, I only want you...” Zuha gulps, her breathing now ragged and exhausted. “J-just— Come with me to the Netherlands. I can’t take it when you’re not here. Come fuck me there, too.”
The words stumble from Zuha’s lips unintentionally. Was she delirious? Maybe. Her slurred speech definitely didn’t help her case. You’re stunned, so you suddenly miss a beat, breaking the rhythm. But hearing her only wanting you made you grind harder, so you compensate on your next pump. You rub a particular spot, which makes Zuha twitch accidentally, her vice walls clamping around your meat. You lurch forward to steady yourself, your chest rising and falling.
“Fuck it. I’ll follow you all around the world just to have you like this.” Your fingers gloss over her trim thigh muscle, gripping her skin tightly as you plough over and over again. She winces a bit as your digits sink deeper into her curves. “Bent. Twisted. Gripped. Chased. Owned.”
“I-I’m yours. I’m yours…”
Having had enough of splitting her in half sideways, you ease up on the pistoning of your hips. You gently lower Zuha’s shin off of your shoulder, putting her leg down, allowing her to regain her balance gracefully, all while you remain hilted in her. The corkscrew sensation of her slick sends tingles through your thighs as you groan out softly. Zuha now grips the countertop while she’s bent over, her hair flowing down her bare back, apple-shaped ass fully exposed and impaled. You push the remaining length of your meat in her, gripping and bringing her waist up as you press against her back. Zuha leans her head on your shoulder.
“Hey.” She whispers.
“Yeah?” You whisper back.
“Say you love me...”
“I-I love you, Zuha.” You thrust once.
She bites her lip in the process of suppressing a moan. She rolls her hips slowly. “Again.”
“G-God— I love you, Zuha.” You pull back only to slam back in firmly.
“You…wha—what do you…What do you love about me?” Her eyes close as she cries out.
“Well…I love your neck.” You lick the length of her neck up to her earlobe. You grip her waist tighter, fingers ridging on the sleek lines of her abs. You thrust once. This makes her whimper and hiss.
“I love your tits.” You cup around to the front and take her breasts in both your hands. “How they feel, how soft they are, how hard your nipples can be.” You run your fingers across the sensitive peaks as you ram it in her again. She emits a shaky moan.
“I love this ass of yours.” You bring a palm down hard, striking the pound of flesh. A mix of a gasp and a scream falls from her mouth, her body in a rigid arch as you support her from behind. “Love how huge it is, how round your cheeks are when I cup it, and how tight it can be.” You reach down with your thumb, making a circle motion at the rim of her ass, teasing entrance and reaping the sounds Zuha makes.
“And I love your pussy.” You hold her sides once more before giving a shallow thrust. “You grip me so well, so hot and tight around my cock like this. Love how much you’re leaking all over me, how good you take me each time.”
Zuha hisses, sucking air. “Yes-yes-yes, I’ll take all of you.”
You finally thrust hard and quick, your thighs banging repeatedly on the base cabinet doors. Zuha lurches forward when you go faster, holding tighter on whatever she can grip, her body being pushed and pulled by the force of your rod poking her insides.
“God, yes, you do me so good, you do me so fucking good.” Her lips are filthy, speaking ill and cursing.
You bottom out over and over again, pressuring her velvety walls as you thrust to the hilt each time. The sound of skin and flesh slapping against each other intoxicates you, riling you to keep going. You look downward, eyes trailing from the line of her back, to your lubricated length — it was hypnotic seeing her pussy lips spreading to accommodate your length and girth, how each push forward sends your meat disappearing deeper within her body. You slap an asscheek. The plump curve jiggles at the contact.
“Jesus Christ, Zuha, you’re amazing.” The bumps and bangs of your legs on her kitchen cabinets have surely annoyed some of Zuha’s neighbors, but you don’t care. Back and forth, her body meets yours precisely, a moan clawing its way out of her throat each time you penetrate. But the pleasure eventually reaches an apex. You feel her walls clamp on you tighter. She hums and mumbles incoherently, desperately attempting to fill the silence and verbalize the torrent of feelings passing through her. She’s close.
“You gonna c-cum?” You wheeze out.
“I’m gonna fucking cum again.”
“Shit, okay, okay, just hold it! I’m close—“
“Fuck, please!” She begs, her tone coming out a little harsher than she intended. Zuha’s hand grips the back of your head as she angles her face sideward. Her tongue surges into your mouth in between dirty whispers. “Just cum with me, please. Oh God, I can’t take it— Please, cum with me.”
You pound away at Zuha, her cheeks bouncing and recoiling as you railed her harder. Her head lurches forward weakly, consciousness slipping as you prolonged her edge. You close your eyes to feel more of her, how her wet pussy wraps each inch of your length, how each texture sparks a sound from Zuha, how warm you’d be if you just stay planted inside. Your breathing quickens as you feel the coil deep within you.
“Z-Zuha! I-I’m—“
“Yes! Yes! Oh my God, yes!” Zuha lets herself go. “T-Tell me you love me!”
“What?—“ You’re confused, but your thrusts are on autopilot.
“Tell me you love me…When you cum, tell me you love me.”
This spurs you on. “Shit! I-I love you— Holy fuck!— I love you, I love you so fucking much…” Your fingers dig into her sides as you pursue a deeper stroke.
She winces. “Oh fuck, right there, yes, yes, I love you, I love you…”
The tension in your core finally shatters as you orgasm vehemently. You burst deep between her twitching legs and her grasping cunt. You cum forcefully, sending off copious ropes of your seed, painting her insides white. You groan weakly, repeating her name like a hymn or prayer a devotee would voice whenever their faith was tested or whenever they fell to their knees to sing praise. You hump at Zuha erratically, groaning as you dump everything you had inside her, an offering to the temple that is her body.
Zuha’s voice is gone at this point. She cums, a silent gasp in the sea of hair splayed on her face. She twitches and jerks occasionally, the onslaught of orgasm writhing out of her in surges. Her voice reaches a new pitch, exhales leaving her in short, vulnerable bursts. Her slick flows down your length, her walls clamping down on you as she rides her high. You hold her closer, hugging her as she pushes and shudders back, desperate to keep your length breached and wedged in her pussy.
The burden of the orgasm — the best orgasm you’ve both had, ever — finally dissipates for both of you. You wobble forward, hugging Zuha’s slim body as you lay your weight slightly on her. Zuha steadies both your bodies by propping her arms on the counter. Your palms trail down her arms to hold her hands. Your breathing syncs up as your forehead touches her back, just a few inches before her nape. You remain hilted, your cock still warm.
“Well.” She breaks the silence.
“Yeah?” You kiss a spot on the midpoint of her spine.
“Probably can’t get to ballet class tomorrow.”
You chuckle as you stand closer. Her walls squeeze slightly at the minuscule movement. You kiss up to the back of her head now, smooching her hair, then to her ear, then to her cheek. Her round eyes land on you, her stare dull, disarmed, diminished — glazed with the afterglow of sex, but made soft with a deep lingering affection — affection you can now confidently name love.
“You alright?” You laugh gently as you softly bump your head on hers.
“Never been better.” She gives you a peck. “So that’s what it took for you to fuck me like that, huh?”
“Shut up.” You chuckle. You pull out of her walls, a moan coming out of her as you depart. “Could’ve told me you loved me sooner if you wanted it that bad.” You say with a small smack of her thigh.
She gasps in fake hurt. “You diss me as you pull out? I rescind my declaration then.” Zuha turns around slowly, still leaning on the counter for stability. “Plus, I’m the one usually surprising you when we fuck— Oh, sorry. When we make love.” She chides. Zuha leans back, the light catching her angle and casting subtle shadows across her body. Her tall, athletic frame is made a thousand times better by the fact that she is still fully naked. Her toned and sculpted midriff is completely on display, the result of consistent training and commitment, creating the prominent lines you were gawking at. You make a mental note to ravish them later.
“Gosh, you’re really sexy.” You blurt.
A grin appears. Her nose scrunches for longer now, crescent eyes accenting the dimples on her cheeks as she laughs. She lightly punches your shoulder, but quickly reels you back in by the forearm. She wraps herself around you, your forearms tangling around her neck in an embrace. “You’re sweet.”
You kiss her crown lightly, whispering slowly. “You’re beautiful.”
She sighs, her gaze studying you, a stiletto point threatening to pierce, but no cuts come. She sheathes the blade, a pout surfacing in its place. “I’ve always…loved…that about you.” Her lips linger on the word “love”, its utterance a paradox between novel and natural. She says it carefully, like setting down delicate china you bring out only once in a while — fragile and vulnerably open to destruction. “The way you’d just tell me things. Me. The things you say are to me, and not just to who I think I am or who I think I should be. To Zuha.”
You smile lightly at the nickname you gave her. “Zuha suits you better. Plus, I don’t know you any other way.” You scramble around her kitchen, wearing your boxers and shirt, piling up garments, and gathering other flung articles of clothing (Zuha’s panties landed on a plant).
“Wouldn’t want it any other way, either.” Zuha raises her arms in a stretch, her abs and back muscles flex as she wrings out the (s)exhaustion from her system. She walks by you, giving you a light peck on the cheek before sashaying into the bathroom.
You stride down the hall and back into her room, the place where it all began. The space was the same, except her sheets were pink now, a more lush color compared to the pastel blue you had lain on that first night. You dump the pile in the basket and tidy up some more scattered socks and pants. On Zuha’s side of the bed, propped up on her end table and adjacent to her earrings, you see a new, smaller picture frame: you. A picture of you on your 3rd date with Zuha. You were holding two large paper bags of groceries, vegetables, and cartons peeking out the top. Hooked on your elbows were more bags — one with paper towels, another with soap and sponges. And in your mouth, wedged between your teeth, was a Fors croissant. You chuckle once as you adjust the frame.
“I think that’s when I realized I was falling in love with you.”
You turn around to see Zuha adjusting her pajamas, her shirt clinging to her slim frame, wet hair tied in a high bun, a towel hanging from her shoulder. She gives a small smile before hooking the towel off to the side of the door.
“But this was when…” You start.
“Mhm. Barely a week since we started dating.” She kicks around a loose carpet tuft. “I guess I’ve loved you since then.”
She shifts around awkwardly, but continues. “Hey, about that night you told me you loved me.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t even think for a second that I hesitated because I wasn’t serious with you— with us.”
“I know.”
“Good. Because I was. I am. I just…I was just scared.”
“I know, Zuha. I know you were. But I appreciate you telling me. Thank you.”
“Okay, good,” she says with a nod.
Zuha gracefully moves over toward the bed, shifting the sheets and making space for you. She sits, propping her back on the headboard, and brings the covers up to her knees, eagerly waiting for you.
You comply, scooching beside her and leaning back similarly. She lays her head on your shoulder, her gaze only pointing straight ahead.
“Did you mean it?’ You ask.
“Mean what?” She asks back.
“You wanting me to come with you. To the Netherlands. Or was that just…sex?”
A deep inhale, then a long sigh. “Of course I want you to come with me.” Her voice is smaller now, knees locking closer, and fingers gripping tighter. “I could barely handle you not coming home, not coming to me. How much more could I take being so far away from you?”
You take note of the new tone in Zuha’s voice. There is this strong vulnerability to her now, and her honesty only serves to strengthen her person, not weaken her fortitude. Her posture is small, but her heart is larger now. Long past inhibitions about baring so-called “weaknesses”, acknowledging strong emotions, and leaving ample space to be herself have now been dissolved.
“Oh, God, I want to come with you too. But I really can’t just up and leave my parents, Zuha. I barely have enough to help with rent if I do come with you.” The reality resurfaces and weighs on both of you. Zuha still had to leave, and you still had to stay.
“I know.” She mumbles.
You put an arm around her as she tucks her head on your chest, nearer your chin.
“But I don’t want to break up.” She murmurs against your shirt.
“I don’t want to, either.”
“Do we really have to choose?” A quiet whine leaves her lips.
“We might have to.” You rub her shoulder, tracing circles on her soft skin.
“If we do…break up,” Her voice cracks a bit, but she recovers with a sniffle and a cough. “I’d rather we do it on good terms now and not down the line when we’re at each other’s throats or over the phone.”
You exhale gently. “I’d rather have that too.”
You two stay silent for a while.
“Do you want to break up?” A whisper from Zuha so small you think twice about hearing it. She doesn’t look at you.
“Never.” You whisper, too. You stare at the back of her head and the curve of her cheek, her lashes moving as she blinks.
Zuha suddenly sits up, propping her palms flat on your chest, head looking toward you now. The blade returns to her eyes, lamp light glinting off her gaze. “So we don’t. We never will.”
“Can you do long distance?”
“I will if it’s you.”
“What happens if we both get busy? And we fight? And we lose time for each other?”
“I’d still want you.”
“Be realistic, Zuha.”
“I am.” Do you still feel the cuts of her gaze? You do. Swift slices of her pupils gash your arms, neck, and lips. She shakes her head with a sigh. “I’d still want you. The same awkward, speaking-to-windows, lukewarm-coffee-loving, nerd in scrubs. We can make it work.” Her hand cups your cheek now, minuscule lights like flecks sprinkle her pupils — tears.
You lean your head into her palm, savoring the warmth of her skin stroking your face.
She takes a gulp. “If we get busy, then we get busy. If we fight, then we fight. If we lose time, then we lose it. But, I’m still coming back to you.”
You shift on the bed a bit, linking your arms around her neck, allowing Zuha to put her chin on your chest. Her body lies on top of yours as she stares up at you while hugging your torso. You breathe slowly with her.
“Zuha, I’m still coming back to you, too. But I don’t want to lose time for you. I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to see us that way.”
“I don’t want to, either! But I’d rather have that than not have you at all.”
“Oh, Zuha.” You take her face in your hands, thumbs adjusting stray hairs and tucking it behind her ear.
“No! You can’t— Don’t do that. Don’t ‘Oh, Zuha’ me.” She veers her head away from your grasp, eyes staring at you for a beat. She bites her lip, stifling a sob. “I just got you back…” She chokes up, a free tear sliding down the side of her cheek.
You hush her gently as you bite back a sob of your own. “I know, Zuha. I know.”
“And don’t—“ She gulps, trying to find the words. “Don’t think I’m childish for finally wanting something for myself, enough to be selfish about it— enough for me to throw tantrums over it like a stupid kid.”
“Zuha, I would never.”
“I just…” Her brows furrow as she looks up. “Why can’t I have what I want?” Her face vanishes into your chest, tears soaking your shirt as you rub her shoulder blades.
She cries.
There it is: the plea Zuha has just breathed into existence. A whine in the face of the world. A conniption so ego-tistical, so selfish, and so immature, it’s childlike.
And so you respond in kind.
You stiffen up your upper lip, extinguishing the bawl attempting to bubble and rise. You grab her palm, urging her to look up at you. “Fuck it. Let’s do it. Let’s just give it a shot.”
-
“…and you’ve got your room key?”
“I do.” You tap your chest, feeling the keycard you slipped into your breast pocket earlier.
“Passport?”
You show your phone camera a slim browned-leather keeper. “I have it here, Mom.”
“Extra money?” Your dad pipes up now.
“Enough for dinner and a cab back to the hotel.”
“Good man.”
“Do you have enough data for your maps?” Your mom stutters now, the nerves evident in the shakiness of her question.
“I’m not that dumb, guys. I got this.” A chuckle leaves you.
“Alright. Just be safe, and come home safe. Good luck.” With a sigh, your parents slowly let you go. The phone clicks off.
Now, finally, on to the agenda. The show had just finished, with droves of people moving across the wide theater lobby, walking briskly to wherever their plans tell them to go. The carpeted floor effectively muffles the numerous footfalls, isolating only the sounds of conversation. Hushed words fly, whispers creep, and voices adjust. You remain silent, though, this stalwart constant standing still in the blur. A few shoulders whip past you, polite apologies making their way into your ears as compensation. A few adjustments to your gait and stride, and you’re all good. Nothing could really ruin your mood now.
You spot an empty bench in the atrium, this comforting spot illuminating to ease the aches of pacing. The sleek padded cushion groans, catching your full weight as you lean back to stretch. Your legs are crossed as you check the time. 8:22. You could stay a few more minutes. Or hours. You just had to know.
And so you go through the routine of anybody who’s socially awkward and unfortunate enough to be stuck in a public place: check your phone, stare at the ceiling, go to the bathroom (without actually peeing), and then back to the phone. It’s a cycle, really. A cycle you’re very much proud of, because you’ve gotten quite good at appearing like a normal person on the outside. A few pretend phone calls? Amazing play. Pseudo-interest in the shows playing next week and all the minute details of their posters? Absolutely masterful.
Did you appear like a person who knew what they were doing and not someone wandering around, grasping at straws, clawing at a glimmer of a slim chance? You hope so. Did they notice you awkwardly pacing and going up and down the hall? That’s not the point. The point is to masquerade as someone who’s not…afraid.
In truth, the pit in your stomach is growing. Afraid of what, exactly? Well, nothing, to a degree. You were afraid to find out that you flew exactly 5330 miles, gulped through the jet lag, lugged bags across stations, navigated across language barriers, and fumbled through faux pas, for nothing. Not even for a glimpse, a sideways glance, or a chat. You were worrying that, because of the past years of being broken up, and despite constantly grinding to make your own, striving to complete internships, acing departmental exams, and graduating with flying colors, it would all have been for nothing. You guys would still end up as nothing.
Why couldn’t you have what you want?
You slump on the bench, your unkempt appearance, tousled hair, and untucked shirt now obviously inappropriate for the formal setting and the more well-dressed theater goers leaving the maroon-carpeted lobby and down the polished mahogany exit steps. You don’t care anymore. You just absolutely had to wait.
So you wait.
And wait.
And wait.
The crowd thins out, save for a few pairs scrambling and hoping to catch the few remaining tickets for tomorrow’s performance. The buzz of talk soon dies down, replaced by the sound of rain falling and the crisp crash of tires driving over puddles and gutter water outside. You barely noticed the rain before, but you do now.
If only your mom could see you. I knew it. I told you you’d forget something, she’d say.
“Sorry, Mom.” A mutter from you. “Sorry, little umbrella.” Back at home, your umbrella ruffles in acceptance of the whispered apology.
Then you feel it.
You touch a finger to your right cheek, tracing an invisible line from your face to your lips. A cut.
Confusion fills you. Your breathing slowly picks up now. This was familiar. You’ve felt this before, this gash. It was this stinging feeling like a subtle paper cut, the type of paper cut you’d only feel after a substantial amount of time, but even then, the damage was already done. You unexpectedly blush as if blood were leaking from the slice. You feel your face heat up as your heartbeat quickens, the blood pulsing just beneath the surface. It becomes harder to gulp, too, as your throat dries, your voice stagnating and burrowing deep within your courage.
You turn to where the cut came from. Long-dead abilities revive within you. The sound of precipitation distorts as things come to a dead halt. Raindrops disobey gravity. People freeze in place, their stride suddenly stopping.
And yet she still walks toward you. Even if you stop time, she still walks toward you. Even if you’ve been broken up for all those years, she still walks toward you.
Everyone wants a piece of of her. Everyone wants a piece of Naoi Rei.
Whether it’s a lucky shot from a camera, a quick clip on the phone, a little aegyo if she indulges it, or even just being able to breathe the same air as her—everyone wants her. And when she’s dressed in this ivory satin dress that drapes downwards beneath her collarbone like the folds of rose petals, she looks absolutely irresistible from any and every angle.
Just divine.
But some people are greedy. Desiring more than what they’re allowed. Like this asshole who ducks underneath the velvet rope to reach out for Rei. The idol just glances at him. Unflinching.
Because you’re already there, quick to sweep your arm across the air and knock this idiot onto the ground.
The clamoring crowd converts into a sea of gasps as they watch you pin his wrists together behind him and press your knee against the back of his head, forcing him to munch on the carpet as you call for backup. When the rest of security arrives, you let them take over, fix the creases of your suit, and jog back towards Rei.
“Back off, people. Give her some space. She’s had a long day,” you address the crowd with a raised hand.
But they’re all idiots too. Just more restrained ones. They don’t really care for her. They just want her. Like she’s made to be desired. Made to be adored. Made to be coveted.
So they continue bathing her in flashing lights, continue scrambling and pressing up against the barriers, continue screaming at the top of their lungs for but a modicum of her attention. And all the while, you’re the only one allowed to stick close to Rei, hand hovering just above the small of her back, never touching it, keeping yourself at arm’s length.
Because this is as close as you’re allowed to get to her.
Once you’re both inside the hotel, you waste no time ushering her through the lobby. She turns a few heads, but that much is to be expected from someone like Rei. The elevator arrives at the ground floor, and in moments, you’re both catching the last few glimpses of the crowd held outside by the security team as they all fade from view with the closing of the doors.
You press a button. Eleventh floor.
“Did you really have to slam him that hard? Such an aggressive man.”
You roll your eyes at her, returning to your cross-armed position three or four feet away from her. The elevator’s empty except for the two of you, yet she maintains her distance, clutching her Louis Vuitton in hand.
“Tch, would you rather he slam you? If anyone’s getting aggressive, it’s them. Fucker really thought he could get away with it too.”
One step. To the side.
“Mm, I don’t mind aggressive. You should know that.”
The heat by your collar chokes you. You swallow and the fit of your tie around your neck is made more present. “Do I now? Last time I checked, I was the one walking out of the hotel with scratch marks on my chest and back.”
Another step. Closer.
“Last time I checked, I was the one left on the bed with spank marks all over my thighs and all of that cum dripping out of me. Mm, I almost melted into the floor the floor that night. Fuck. Could have broken my back, you know?”
“Huh, but don’t you like getting your back blown out?” you retort with a scoff, and you glance sideways at her. Which is a mistake. Because you get a glimpse of the way Rei’s sharp jawline lifts when she smirks at you. “I do. I really do, don’t I?”
Ding.
The elevator doors part, but neither of you take the invitation to exit. You can feel the air-conditioning of the opulent hallway wafting into the small elevator, but the tension between you two is anything but dispersed.
Rei makes the first move and steps out, wagging a finger at you in a come-hither motion as she does. “Come. Checkout’s in ten hours.”
You trail behind her, a pace and a half away. Rei gives you this unadorned and unabashed view of her bare back all the way down to the cut of her dress by her ribs. You can see the way her shoulders rise and fall with her breath, the way her muscles tense in anticipation, the way the column of her spine goes rigid once she stops outside her door.
“Keycard?”
You oblige, leaning forward to swipe it into the terminal and unlock her room. She enters first and is already kicking out of her matching white heels. But as soon as you turn around to close the door behind you, you feel hands etching circles against your back.
“Mm, you’re tense. Tired from having to watch me all day?”
You grip the doorknob, back still towards her. “When am I never tired? You’re always a fucking handful.”
She is. Rei really is.
As the head of her security—and as her personal guard—you’re supposed to be keeping trouble away from her. But no one gave you a manual on how to keep her away from trouble. Rei always has a way of finding it. Grinding too intensely when she’s tipsy at the afterparties, allowing what little clothes she sometimes wore to slip down her petite body, roaming her fingers over places incredibly unbecoming of an idol.
She’s definitely a fucking handful. It irritates you. Whether as her guard or as something else, you’re not quite sure.
Among her recent offenses was her little stint earlier at the awards show, when she got too close for comfort to her cohost. She was practically begging him to place his hand on her ass.
You still remember the burning in the back of your eyes when you saw it happen. More so when she smirked at you as she did it
Speaking of roaming—her hands roam across your torso like they might be in search for something. You let her, and you can sense her drawing closer towards you. Once you hear the ever-so-slight motion of her tiptoeing, and once you hear the coast of her breath against your ear, your whole body goes slack.
“Are you going to do something about it then?”
You spin around, but Rei’s ahead of you. She grips your tie so hard it bends you downwards to her level. Raising a brow, she gives your leash a testing tug. “Mm, I knew it. You were fucking me with your eyes the entire time, weren’t you? Couldn’t wait for us to get back to the hotel?”
Trying to temper your breath, you grunt. “And I bet you were just itching to get stripped off your new little designer dress, yeah? Couldn’t wait for me to be the one to do it?”
“You’re jealous,” she prods, physically too with an index finger against your chest.
“It’s called work. Don’t get it twisted.”
She twists your necktie until your face is an inch away from hers. “Hm? But if you’re still ‘working’, I can’t really beg you to rip this outfit off of me now, can I? Maybe I should ask someone else to do it for me. I can think of a few—.”
Rei knew what she was doing. And you fucking hated her for it.
But that didn’t stop you from shutting her up by crashing your lips into hers and stealing her breath. She holds you steady with one hand against your shoulder and the other wrapped around your tie as she moans into every attempt you make to try and tame her devilish little tongue.
One step. Then another. Until she’s stumbling backwards. Deeper into the room. Beyond the vestibule. Past the small kitchen and the adjacent comfort room. All the way through the living room until she’s pressed up against the windows overlooking Saitama.
Rei whimpers and pulls away, and there’s this audible pop from how tightly sealed her lips were. “God, you’re so needy, aren’t you? How long have you been waiting for this?”
“Ever since I caught you changing in the dressing room this morning,” you utter, face hovering over hers.
She licks her lower lip and shakes her head. “The truth.”
“Ever since we met up at the airport to fly over to Japan.”
Rei rewards your honesty by sliding the hand on your shoulder down towards your crotch, cupping it, massaging it, feeling its weight and heft and strain against your pants and underwear like she might discover how pent up you are from it. “Mm, you wanted to fuck me on the plane? What was I wearing yesterday? The shorts?”
“The shorts,” you mutter as she’s palming over where your tip might be. You can’t get fully hard like this, and she knows, and she keeps you in this semi-erect state as she continues. “What did you imagine? Pulling the curtains behind us while you pound into me in first-class?”
“Wanted to fucking—god—eat your pussy out and feel those thighs clenching against me while you’re losing your fucking words.”
Her tongue flicks against her lower teeth as she giggles in a low tone. “So needy. But I like you like that. Like this. Just within arm’s reach for a good fuck.”
Rei only needs one hand to unzip you, to unbuckle your belt, to yank your pants and underwear down by their garters. She’s done this before. Way too many times to count. She steadies her grip on your necktie as she cups your balls first, rolling them between her delicate little fingers, stroking your underside with just her thumb.
“You know, one of the cabin crew was giving me the look after takeoff. He kept coming back to my seat to ask if I ‘needed anything’,” she starts, giving your balls a gentle squeeze—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who’s working you. “You didn’t so much as bat an eye. I wonder why.”
You want to grumble something back, but Rei’s quick to glide her digits up your shaft and start shuffling them across the crown of your head. “Mmm, he looked cute too. Bet he was imagining me sucking him off behind the trolley. Bet he’d stretch my throat good. But this?”
She lets go of your tie at last and bends forward to kiss your tip, locking eyes with you the entire time, smiling. “He’ll never get this.”
Rei sinks to her knees.
In all of her glamor and attitude, you watch as a divine goddess like her descends to her knees, fingers dragging against the front of your thighs, leveling herself with your cock. It’s such a delight seeing her kneel. For all that she’s worth, she looks so fucking good on her knees before you.
And you make sure you let her know.
Rei licks the head once. Then twice. Testing. Tasting. Feeling the way your tip twitches and shudders in her grasp. Delighting in the way your pre-cum drips onto her palate. She grips the base of your cock so she can swirl her wet tongue and spread the drool around, licking stripes back and forth the length of your member, tracing the outlines of your veins like she’s mapping you out.
“Fuck … yes … Just like that. You’re drooling so much. Hungry. aren’t you?”
Rubbing her pursed lips between your cock and balls, she looks up at you with challenging eyes. “Then feed me. Feed me with this thick, fat cock of yours.”
Placing your hands on your hips, you give her an inviting nod. “Help yourself first. Let’s see what you can do.”
Giggling behind her lip bite, Rei begins stroking your cock faster now that it’s coated in a sheen of her saliva. She wraps her mouth around the tip again and hums into it like she’s speaking into a microphone, all while jerking you off. With a deep breath, she takes you in. Deeper. Until you knock against the back of her throat. She swallows around your head and withdraws, but doesn’t pull out fully.
Rei repeats this tantalizing motion over. And over. Again.
She picks up the pace. Lips smashing against the curl of her fingers to meet her hand at the point where she can go no deeper. Rei gags every time you threaten to push past the tight ring of her throat, but she doesn’t pull away. She never pulls away. She just lets the drool gush out of her tightly sealed lips, dribble down her chin, and drip onto the top of her dress.
You look down at her and the sight of it all just makes you moan. Her full lips are still painted pretty. Her makeup still coloring her cheeks. Her dress still wrapping around her like a sinful little present you can’t help but want to unwrap. She looks polished. Presented. Perfect.
And you’re going to change that.
Splaying your fingers wide across her head, you grip her this way to steady Rei. Her eyes widen in surprise, and you just chuckle. “Easy now. Shit … time for me to do the feeding.”
“Mmmh?” she asks, unable to get more out of her before you’re thrusting into her mouth. “NGHHHH—HCKKKK!”
You fuck her throat.
Your hips carry you forward as you lean into her and begin pounding into her pretty presented face. Enjoying the warmth and wetness of her mouth. Enjoying the way her eyes flicker and water. Enjoying how her throat bulges from your repeated intrusion.
“Yeah? You fucking like that? You talk so much but you look much better like this—on your knees, like a tight little suckslut drooling all over my fucking cock,” you bellow, tightening your core. Rei’s eyes roll upwards when she gags again, but you don’t stop. You don’t fucking stop feeding her the dick she’s been oh-so-craving. You think about the flight. You think about her teasing. You grip her head harder. “Is this what you wanted? Fuck … Look at me when I fuck your throat.”
On command, she places her trembling hands on your thighs and tilts her chin upwards. Not only does this give you an unobstructed view of her sweaty, messy face. Rei makes it so much easier to align your dick with the length of her mouth and throat so you can hammer into her harder. Faster.
You’re so used to the luxury of her long hair, often bundling it several times around your fingers as handles for throatfucks like this. But tonight, you’ll have to make do with entrenching your digits into her bob.
“God … fucking … damn it! You take it so fucking good. You like that don’t you? You fucking love getting your throat used like this, yeah?” you grunt in between powerful and deep thrusts that shake her entire form. “Say it. Say you love it.”
Rei chokes up and pushes past your cock lodged deep inside her mouth, but her tongue is pinned to one side as you continue your relentless facefucking.
“I said say it. Speak up. You love giving me an earful whenever I’m on the clock. Why don’t you spit it back out for me and give me a mouthful in return.”
Clawing, squeezing at your thighs, Rei grumbles and curses you with her glare. “Fhkk … HLRK—yhh …”
“What was that?” you taunt, thrusting faster. “Can’t hear you.”
“GLKKK HLCKKK—FHHKK! YHH!”
You smirk. “Speak up now. Come on. You can do it. Use that mouth of yours. Use that fucking mouth of yours.”
When you lower your free hand to palm over her left breast from outside her dress, she lets out an unprecedented moan and relaxes. You take advantage of this and push in as deep as you can, bring her head down all the way to the base of your cock to the point that she’s kissing your stomach. You hold her there. Hold her like this. Even as she struggles. Even as she writhes. Even as she blows bubbles of spit in dollops by your balls. Not letting go. Not until she says it.
Not until she admits it.
It’s only when one of her hands flies to your wrist by her chest, squeezing it, moaning on your dick, that she utters something in a broken tongue—a turn of phrase only you would understand. Because you’re the only one she’s ever said it to with a face full of cock.
And then, you let go.
Rei bursts from your grip and gasps for air the moment she resurfaces. Fingers combing through her hair, chest heaving, eyes still a little glazed, but her lips? Her thick puffy lips? They’re twitching. Quivering. In anticipation. In excitement.
She smiles.
“You … ngh … taste so delicious,” she stutters, still catching her breath. Rei whips her hair back and bites a finger. “Mmm, I want more.”
You part your lips to speak, but Rei is faster yet again. She’s quick to grip your tie and pull you in. At first, you think she might kiss you, but when she instead holds you close like this, hearing her every pant, feeling her every breath on your face, you sense the faint inkling of an idea forming in her twisted mind.
Rei lets go of you and takes a step back, hiding her hands behind her with an attempt at a coy smile blossoming across her face. Winking, she pleads through a breathy tone. “I think I’m done with this dress now. Could you help me take it off?”
This sudden slowdown rattles you. You were absolutely ready to finish down her throat for the first time tonight. But this change of pace is a welcome one because you see Rei turning towards the window once more, presenting her backside to you. Like a ballerina mid-pirouette. It’s then that you see the delicate strip of a zipper hidden behind the top folds of her dress.
She doesn’t need to tell you twice.
You glide over to her, heart still pounding, light sweat coating your neck, hand unavoidably trembling as you reach for the zipper. Pinching it between your thumb and index, you peel the zipper downwards like you might pluck the petals off a rose. The zipper doesn’t even go all the way down. Just goes far enough to loosen its grip on her figure. Just enough that when she parts her elbows to stop holding it up, the entire thing just comes undone.
And you come undone as well.
For Rei is completely naked now.
She glances over one shoulder, her side profile framed by the curve of her hair down to her chin. There’s a twinkle in her eye—one of amusement. One that asks you, “Hm? Why are you staring? Not like you haven’t seen this before, have you?”
She steps out of the dress and turns your way, flaunting her full figure on display, coated by the halation of what little nightlights could seep in through the window. Your eyes immediately lock onto the translucent pads over her areola. “You wore pasties?”
Not the most romantic thing to say right now, you admit.
“What? Am I supposed to have my nipples constantly grazing the inside of my dress?”
“No, I just figured someone like you would go full commando. Not something like … this.”
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms just underneath the swell of her breasts. There’s just something about the way her lithe yet full figure dances through the room that breathes new life into you. “Well, again, are you still going to just stare at me or are you going to take these off too?”
You bite your lip and step closer.
She ruined the pace. Slowed it down. But, perhaps, it’s time to get sensual now.
“What are you doing?” Rei asks as you glide your hands up and down her sides, really memorizing every curve of her. Drinking her in. Your eyes are parked on hers. It makes her look away—cute.
“What am I doing?” you repeat, one hand drifting up from her stomach towards the fold between her breasts. “Just taking my time.”
“You surely weren’t doing that when you were pounding my throat just now,” she replies, which is interrupted by her moans as you cup and lift one breast now. “Nghh … stop teasing me. It’s getting cold.”
“Let me fix that.”
Rei shudders when you whisper in her ear that way, but she finds herself trembling all the more when your other hand roams down the slope of her back, pausing just above her ass. You plant a garden of kisses across her neck, tracing her collarbone with your lips, and decorating the other side of her nape with more pecks.
“Fuck … yes …,” she mutters, not even aware of it. Her own hands are rubbing up and down your forearm and waist. It’s almost like you two are lovers right now, indulging in a moment of passion. But you try not to think about it too much—lest reality shatters your expectations. “Mmm, squeeze them.”
You obey, sinking your digits into the soft flesh of her exposed breast. This merits a higher-pitched groan from her, one that tightens her throat. Her head is rolling in circles as you bombard her with a mixture of kisses and gropes, palming over her hardening nipples. She loses her breath when you give her buds long continuous strokes, but she also whimpers in your grasp whenever you add more pressure with your pinches.
Biting her lip, Rei presses her forehead against your chest but you do not let up, swapping to her other breast now. Your kisses trail up past her chin, and when your lips find hers, she’s taking you into her once more. Kissing you.
“Nghh … fuck … I’m so wet right now,” she confesses in between laps with her tongue, declaring her arousal like you need any more confirmation from how she entangles herself into you. “God, I’ve been thinking about you all day. Wanted you to just kiss me after getting my make up done. Wanted … mmhh … ahh … wanted you to just take me then and there in the dressing room.”
You pull away a moment to reply. “Fuck, when I saw you with half your dress on, you can’t imagine how hard I got on the spot. Walked with a limp just thinking about bending you over the vanity.”
She giggles and lifts her leg up, thinking you won’t notice her trying to grind against you while you play with her chest. “Yeah? More …”
“I wanted to stuff you, fill you up … god … wanted to see you bend over. You look so fucking sexy bent over, you know that? So delicious. Just wanted to see your pussy drip right into my mouth while I eat you out.”
Rei’s drawing blood from her lips now with how hard she’s biting down. Arms wrapped around you neck, leg wrapped around your waist, she tugs you closer. “Then what are you waiting for? Eat me out.”
Lost in another maelstrom of kisses, you both don’t know how you manage to even crash onto the couch without hurting yourselves.
Rei reaches for the remote, but you knock it away from her. “Let them hear it. I want them to hear how you’’ll moan for me—how you’ll be mine.”
Her eyes are set ablaze by your words, and she nods, wagging a finger at you. “Mm, come and get a taste then.”
Stealing a few more kisses, you lean Rei against the backrest and push her knees towards the sides of her head. She knows how this goes, tucking her hands beneath them so she can hold them up for you.
Kneeling in front of her, you let it sink in first. The view.
Her moist pussy already leaving a mark on the leather. Her leg muscles tensing midair. Her round ass digging into the seat.
This? This is a view that you’re sure only you get to see.
You kiss her knee. The side of it. Trail downwards along her thigh. Thick. Supple. Smells like lavender—her body wash. Rei shudders when your own hands come over her upper thighs, close to her hips. Gripping her. Keeping her spread out. Holding her in the optimal position for what you’re about to do.
Lowering your face towards her waiting snatch, you can already smell how horny she is. The scent of her pretty pink pussy permeates the air. Meanwhile, the woman who’s got her body all conveniently positioned for you doesn’t have the slightest clue that you can see the mewl that never leaves her lips, the neediness that warps her face.
You kiss her pussy. Just over the hood. Not quite there but close enough to make her feel something. Your breath is enough to make her lurch. But your lips? They make her beg.
“Fuck … lower please … more …” she pleads as you circle the outline of her nether bits. The soft of your nose rubs against her hood while you lap a few times at her quivering hole. Her knuckles turn white from how she’s squeezing her legs into herself. “Nghh! Your tongue …”
“What about it?”
“Please … please …”
“Please what?” you probe, circling her clit but never daring to actually lick directly onto it.
“MMMHH! Please! Please … lick me … eat me out …”
“On one condition: you don’t hold back a single fucking moan.”
Rei’s an idol. She’s got pipes for sure. But you love the way she sings for you when you really give it to her.
At first, it’s just little bounces. Little tilts and jilts of her head and neck. But that’s only because you’re licking her at a conservative pace. When you begin to finally press the wall of your tongue and slather your palate against her dripping wet sex, it’s a two-for-one deal: she gets to feel the pleasurable twitches scatter all across her body, and you get a rich taste of her arousal.
Your tongue wraps and folds and slithers across the surface of her pussy, paying special attention to her clit, and when you sense she’s still muting her voice, you part her hood with two fingers and flick the tip of your tongue rapidly against her exposed clitoris.
“AHHHH! AHHH AHHH SHIT! SHIT SHIT SHIT!”
You grip her thighs firm, face soaked in a mixture of your own drool and her juices, holding her firm, holding her steady, ensuring she won’t just fly away from the building tension, continuously dragging your tongue against her pussy.
“Nghhhh … guh … close! Shit shit shit—I’M CLOSE!”
You only pause to hum against her stomach. “Already cumming? Such an easy slut. But you love being easy for me don’t you?”
There’s an initial frustration in her eyes, but it gives way for what’s honest—what’s primal. “I love being fucking easy for you. I love the way you make me—AHHH SHIT—make me get off so fast … nghh … AHHH … so good!”
“Then get off to my tongue. Sing for me. Cum for me, Rei.”
It’s when you call her name that she loses all control. “Yeah? Just give in and let—.”
“CUMMING!”
Your hands move behind hers to press her harder into the couch, lifting her ass up in the process. With this new angle, you’re able to lick her repeatedly without fail. Even when she detonates all over your face with a spray of squirt. Even when she’s screaming into the empty hotel room for you to stop. Even when she’s fidgeting and flopping her arms about to try and break free from your clutches.
You don’t stop eating her out.
“Ghhhh stop … p-p-please—PLEASE! I’m t-t-t-too sen-sen-s-sensitive,” she slurs, each word dragging out, head too woozy to even form coherent thoughts beyond her cries for mercy. But you don’t afford her that. She’s been extra abrasive today. Extra bratty.
And Rei knows what brats get.
Her hands find purchase now by the sides of your head as her feet crash onto the edge of the couch. But as she’s trying to force her legs shut, Rei’s post-orgasmic state renders her too weak to really put up any fight. “Fuck fuck … ffffuuuuckk … c-c-can’t … s-s-stop …”
“Do you really want me to stop?” you taunt, peeking up from her mound, staring right at her unfocused eyes. You love the sight of her looking all vulnerable and meek like this. It’s such a fucking delight to see her come to ruin by her own volition. “Tell me, do you want me to stop?”
Her head full of haze shakes left and right as she licks her lip.
And that’s all you need.
As you part from her, Rei whines breathy through her clenched teeth, but this is immediately replaced by a high whimper when you spank her pussy. Lightly. For now.
Her eyes widen and they manage to lock onto you. “What—NGHH!”
You spank her again. But you make sure to rub over her reddened hood gently with your fingers to soothe her.
After a few rolls over her mound, you dip two fingers into her and stretch her open. You curl your fingers upwards, drag it against the top of her inner walls, feeling for that sweet spongy spot within her that makes her coil up and babble.
You’re losing her. Quickly. As you begin fingerfucking Rei, her insides clench around your digits and refuse to let them go.
“You just came and you’re already itching to cum again, aren’t you?” you provoke her, flicking her clit with a finger to grab her attention. She’s too busy dissolving into the couch as her body forgets how to operate itself, flailing about. “Do you like it when I do this?”
The come-hither motion milks a response out of her. “Yessss, fuuuu-u-u-uuuuck … nghhh AHH … Your fingers … s-so big … so th-thick … guhhh!”
“Yeah? You like my fingers? You like my fingers stretching your tight little cunt out?”
Rei beams, jamming her tongue between her quivering lips. “Mmh … fuck yes … fuck me … you’re just … you just know how to—AHHH—how to b-b-bring me there—CLOSE!”
Thumb smudging against her clit, wrist starting to ache from the rapid-fire of your fingers, fist drenched in her slick, you dip lower and hover just above Rei’s folded form. She glances away and you swear you can feel the heat radiating from her flushed cheeks. But when she returns to you, she sheds the meekness and instead reaches out for your cheek to caress it. To hold it. Then to pull you in for another kiss.
Words cannot describe how decadent it is to be kissing Naoi Rei while she’s whimpering into your lips from your fingering. But maybe words don’t have to. This isn’t something you would dare share to others—with others. This moment is something for you to keep to yourself.
She is someone for you to enjoy—all for yourself.
So when you feel her tongue losing the fight against yours and going slack in your mouth, your wrist gets a second wind as you’re now grinding the bottom of your palm into her clit while urging her to finish from your two digits along.
“Fuck fuck fuck—I’m going to cum, I’M GOING TO CUM!” she bellows right next to your ear while you’re still kissing and licking her neck. “NGHHH DON’T STOOOOOP. C-C-CUMMING!”
You withdraw.
It takes a lot to pull your fingers out of her wet fucking walls because her pussy just wants to devour you whole. But when you manage it, and your fingers finally feel the cool hotel room air, you smirk down at her.
Rei pouts and blows into your face. “What was that for? I was so fucking—HNGHH?”
You spank her pussy. “I asked if you wanted to continue. I didn’t say you could cum.”
“Ehh, you’re such a killjoy,” she complains, beating into your chest like that would hurt you one bit. “Mmh … please … please I really need it again. I really … ohhhh shiiiit … I really need to cum again.”
As you’re still rubbing her, you move backwards and finally step out of your pants, which have been bunched up by your ankles since the beginning. Kicking them away, you slap her pussy one final time before resting the full length of your cock against her opening. “Do you want my fingers again, or do you want this?”
Rei’s grinning again. “I love the way you put your dick on me like that. Fuck, what a view … it feels so warm … so heavy … so fucking … thick …”
You grip the base of your shaft and plap her drooling sex with the full heft of its weight. “Thought you liked my fingers? Weren’t you just begging for it?”
“Nghh, but I love your dick more. Please …?”
“Please what? You should know by now that—.”
She tugs you by your tie and presses her forehead against yours. “Tonight, I want you to fuck me like I’m just another Nagoyan whore. No glamor, no paparazzi, no hosting. Just … just you and me. And um, you can cum inside this time—AHHHH!”
Fastest draw in the wild fucking west.
You push into Rei so fast that she gets no moment to adjust to your full length inside of her. She can only fan her fingers out by your torso as you pull back only to give her another full thrust.
“Shit … you really fill me up so good … God nghh your stretch … it’s unlike any other …”
Hands on her waist, lifting her ass onto your thighs, you build up a rhythm into fucking Rei. Her tits springing forth with each motion. Her buttocks rippling with each impact. Her pussy squelching with each thrust and throb of your cock.
You wipe her sides before spanking her ass. “Never had me a Nagoyan whore before. What are they supposed to feel like? What can one of them do?”
“Mmmh, I heard they’re really good with their mouths—NGHH—.”
You thrust harder into her. Faster. “Yeah? What else?”
“—that they … that they—MMMHH—that they—.”
“Use your words, Rei. Use your … fucking … nghh … words.”
“—NGHH NGHH—that they make for gooood mmmphhh—good eye candy—!”
You play with her clit just to see her face warp even further with pleasure, hearing her interrupt herself with screams—music to your ears. “Fuck … keep going now … tell me more—sell me on one.”
“—a-and … fuck … fuck you’re so big .., you’re so fucking big—AHHH AND THEY MAKE THE TIGHTEST COCKSLEEVES IN ALL OF JAPAN!”
Bingo.
Rei’s whole body convulses and even though all she screams are repeated babbles and curses into the air, you don’t stop. You don’t dare fucking stop giving it to her the way she begged for it—giving it to her good. You fuck your little Nagoyan whore like she deserves it as a reward for her little stint of dirty talk, but not before pulling her in a bit closer for more kisses.
“Shit shit shit—like that, like that! Faster—please, faster!”
You press her deeper into the couch, kneeling into it as well as you both sink. You’re hammering into her so hard the fucking furniture shakes and threatens to fall backwards, but you don’t give a damn. All you can think of in this moment is the sight of Rei’s glazed-over and sweaty face pleading for release.
“Please! PLEASE!”
“Please what—?”
“PLEASE MAKE ME CUM ON YOUR DICK!”
It’s criminal how fast your fingers fly to her clit when you want to get her to finish faster. But it’s more criminal how breathy and sultry her voice can get when she’s needy and deliciously fucking desperate like this. Wasting no time, you finish her off with a series of breakneck thrusts, fucking her cunt like the cocksleeve she promised it to be.
“Who’s my little Nagoyan fucktoy? Are you my slutty little fucktoy?”
“Mmmmh yes yes yes—I am, I fucking am—.”
“Say it. Say it in—nghh, fuck—say it in full.”
“I-I’m your little … tight … slutty … cheap … horny … fucking … N-Nagoyan … fuckt—CUMMING!”
You don’t edge her this time. You piston into Rei’s pussy until she comes undone because of you all over again.
And seeing her unravel makes you unravel as well.
“Fuck, fucking take it—fucking take it all, Rei,” you groan aloud as the final few strokes inside her pool the tension towards the tip of your cock and set you off. What gets you over the edge is the roll of her eyes and the low grumble Rei lets out when she’s hit that satisfied note on the orgasm score.
You cum.
You shoot thick rope after rope into her warm little pussy, painting her fucking walls with the thick of your seed that you’ve been holding in for a week now. Unlike Rei’s orgasm that hits her hard and fast, you feel yours deep in your core, reverberating throughout your body as her cunt becomes a vice that continues milking you off your load.
Once you’ve both come down from your ecstatic highs, you pull out. Carefully. Because Rei’s pussy is a bit sore and throbbing now. Because you want to see the fruit of your labors.
When the feathery folds of her release you, so does it release your globs of cum. It trickles out of her, crests over her untouched asshole, and pools into a crease of the couch.
“Fuck,” is all you can immediately say as you try to regain your composure. You only think to take off your blazer and the rest of your suit now to join Rei in her nudity when the heat of lovemaking finally gets to you. “Rei, you look so fucking sexy like this.”
She raises a brow and does the unthinkable. Well, unthinkable to most people. But perhaps not to Rei. Fingers lowering to her used pussy, she scoops up some of your cum and brings it to her lips, tasting your release.
“Mmm, now I kinda regret not letting you finish off inside my throat. You taste delicious. Strong, a bit bitter, very salty. Your first load is always so fucking thick too.”
You chuckle, undoing the tie and tossing it behind you. Your ears perk at hearing ‘first load’, which implies a second, a third, or even a tenth one if you were fortunate. You’re about to fully pull away from her when she has this moment of weakness. When Rei reaches out to you but stops herself.
You could have sworn she looked like she needed you. Needed needed you.
Taking one last look at her form laid out like this on the couch, you can’t help but feel like Rei’s some sort of prophet. No way in hell could anyone have foreseen her spineless after a good fuck with cum dripping out of her pussy like this from back at the elevator ride alone. Guess that’s one of her charms.
You lean forward and help her up, and she’s clinging to you while standing on her own two feet. You don’t question it. Don’t point it out. You let Rei hold you close, pressing her face into your chest as her arms squeeze you tightly.
“You … alright?” you ask, starting to get a bit worried over how silent she is.
She nods, hair brushing your collarbone, tickling you. “I … I am. I think I am … just … just need a moment. You always do this to me.”
“Do what exactly?”
“Confuse me.”
You want to pull away so you can talk to her about this, but Rei really doesn’t want to let go. She allows you some room to breathe by detaching herself, but she’s holding your wrists now. Her fingers are unable to steady themselves on you. “Don’t … don’t ask. Stop asking questions. Just …”
“Rei, I—.”
She presses a finger to your lips and sighs, shaking her head. “Let’s not get things too … complicated. Just … don’t just swap between rough and passionate like that. It gets confusing.”
“What do you want right now then? Rough or passionate?” you wonder, unsure of what the difference between either even is at this point.
“P-Passionate. Please?”
She gasps as you sweep her off her feet. Carrying her like a princess, as she drapes her arms around you, you lift her all the way to the modern dining table in this spot between the kitchen and living room. Set her down on her bare bottom. Place your hands on either side of her against the cold surface. And just press into her.
“Sorry. If I got carried away,” you confess. You feel the need to say that because a part of you now realizes how brutal you might have been. How you might have been taking out your frustrations and jealousy out on Rei. “We need like a safeword or something when it gets too much.”
“No, you’re never too much,” she tells you otherwise, patting your cheek before wiping away the sweat along your nose with her thumb. “I just … god, just stop asking questions.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Passionate. She wants passionate.
You start with a kiss to her cheek. Then her lips. Then her nose. Rei giggles, “I said passionate, not sappy. But … I’ll allow this.”
You kiss down to her neck again, but instead of peppering across it, you focus on this one spot. This single sensitive spot of hers that could always make you draw a moan or a reaction from her.
“Oh …? Ohh ... mmmh … I like that … I r-really … like that …”
Rei reaches for your cock and gasps through sealed lips when she feels how hard you still are even after all of that. With a twisting motion, she tests to see if it’s true, and when the blood circulates through your shaft again in full force, throbbing in her heavenly grasp, she chuckles into your ear as she nips at your lobe.
“Do you really like me that much?” she mutters. And you cannot believe she even has to ask that question.
“Nah, just when you’re a good little Nagoyan slut.”
She whines and fakes pushing you away, but there’s this look in her eyes that tells you she’s thankful you didn’t answer that question seriously. Rei hops off the table so she can stroke you better, pumping you within the folds of her fingers, palming the tip whenever she senses pre-cum ready to be smeared around it.
“You were asking me so many questions earlier. Maybe I should ask you some too,” she coos, shucking her hand absentmindedly yet with strong purpose as she traces outlines into your chest with another. “Tell me … what’s something we haven’t done yet that you want to try?”
“Seriously?”
“I’m very serious,” she’s quick to reply, and as if to prove her point, she tightens her grip on your dick, meriting a moan from you. “There’s only so much we can do at hotels and dressing rooms. I just thought you’d find it boring—.”
“I want to spank you.”
Rei raises her brow, but there’s already the spark of interest alighting in the wicks of her eyes. “Spank me? Do you know big your hands are? You’re going to bruise me.”
“Well, do you want to try it?”
There are boundaries Rei will never cross, and you’ve seen the look on her face whenever someone urges her to cross them. At fan signs when these delulu dumbasses try to make her do something weird. At concerts when the prompters are telling her to give out aegyos again and again even when she’s tired. At board meetings and conferences when she disagrees with the creative direction for the group.
You fully expect her to make that same face now. But instead, she says, “Don’t … just don’t leave a mark that isn’t red.”
You chuckle and shake your head. “Oh you naughty little thing.”
Palm meeting her ass, you grope her. Massage her. Knead the doughy and pillowy flesh of her bottom. You’re testing. Tempering yourself for now. Waiting for Rei’s reactions. When you feel her lose track of her stroking and see her eyes flutter about, you grip and tug her cheek before pulling back to give it a nice firm slap.
The recoil makes even her thighs jiggle. You can’t help but spank her again. And again. And again.
“Mmh! Did you really have to go for it just like that?”
Spank. Spank. Spank.
“Nghh! The other side … get … get the other side too …”
Spank. Spank. Spank.
“F-Fuck … that … that—nghh … that …”
It’s adorable how there’s a physical manifestation to the way Rei loses herself in the moment. You don’t make fun of her for it. Instead, you move her hand away from your cock, pick up the other she’s been using to sneakily rub herself with, and turn her around, pressing her palms onto the table.
“What …?”
You spank her. Harder. The previous ones were teasing and amicable. This one is sharp and resolute. “Bend over for me.”
To your surprise, she doesn’t fight it either. Rei slides her arms further forward to lift her bubble butt up for you. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” you praise, both hands caressing her butt cheeks. You take your time with them. No rush. Admiring how her voluptuous bottom feels in your hands. Adoring how digging your thumbs along the inner fold reveals and conceals her tight little holes. Acclaiming how each and every moan of hers seduces you into doing more than just fondling her ass.
“Count them,” you command, palming her sweaty cheek before delivering a blow.
“What—NGHH! One … wait—.”
You spank her again. This time beneath the mound—closer to her thigh.
“Guhh! T-Two … hold on, I-I—.”
You spank her again. This time on the opposite cheek. Harder.
“Th-Three … three …”
You spank. She counts. Babbles out some nonsense. Drags fingers against the table. But this entire time, with each sting against her rump, with each flare of recoiled pain against your palm, with each whimper and moan and cry, Rei does not move from her position.
She stays in place, reddened ass kept held up in the air for you, taking it all.
“Such a good girl,” you whisper as you position yourself behind her now. The praise makes her shudder, and if that wasn’t enough, your suddenly soft touch against her spine sends her quivering. “Look who’s fucking wet after all that. Hm?”
You don’t have to see her to know how Rei’s face is probably as red as her ass. “Sh-Shut up …”
You motion like you’re about to spank her and she whimpers. “P-Please! No … no y-yeah … I was … It was hot. I got … I got super turned on when you were spanking me. And … a-and … never mind.”
“Never mind?” you mock, cupping one of her cheeks again. “Use your words, and finish your damn sentences.”
“Ugh … I liked it when you made me count. There, are you happy?”
“Oh, I very much am now,” you tease, gripping her waist. Rei is about to retort with the way her back tenses up, but when she feels your hard cock hotdogging her, she instead mewls and begins to breathe heavily. “Nice and wet from all those spankings. Nice and wet for another round with me.”
The spanking must have done a number on her. Rewired her brain or something. Because there’s no banter. There’s no snarky retort. There’s no hesitation.
Rei just bends over, shoulders and chin slack against the surface of the dining room table, fingers digging into her soft flesh from behind, spreading her butt for you.
“Fuck me … again please … one more … I need it … I really need it now …”
You smack your cock against her back, sliding it between her cheeks. You can never get enough of her ass. Fuck, you can never get enough of Rei. Pulling her hips back and lining up your tip against her warm and dripping entrance, you push in slowly this time as you let Rei feel the entire heft of your insertion.
Her feet arch and lift her higher, trying to escape the sensation of your cock slipping fully into her, but she ends up coming back down to meet your hips as she shudders. “Nghhhhh … shit …”
You work her slow and steady. None of that pounding from earlier. Rei feels the way the tip of your cock spears into her and presses against all the right places inside of her. You glean this from how she’s heaving and smothering onto the table.
One hand on her lower back, your other hand connects with her tender as cheeks. God, you just fucking love to see them clap against each other—against you. “You enjoyed counting for me? Have a bit of a new kink now, do you?”
“O-Oh nghhh mmmphh … shut up! I shouldn’t have told you that.”
You spank her again, groping her ass before letting go. “I know why that turns you on. You like being told what to do—you just can’t admit it.”
“Do I? Hnnh, hnhhgghh! Shit shit, that’s not fair—that’s not AHHH!”
She can’t even finish her thought from the pounding you’re giving her. Not faster—harder. Deep into Rei. Making sure her ass ripples upon collision. Making sure the table screeches against the polished floor. Making sure Rei gets stuffed to the brim with each thrust.
“Admit it, Rei. You love being ordered around. You just like to think you’re in control, but you crumble the moment anyone gets even just a little bit firm with you, yeah?” you whisper close to her, one hand now pinning one of hers against her back while the other is busy keeping you both steady. “Say it. Fucking say it, slut. Tell me that—.”
“J-Just—fuck … fuck … fuck, NGHHH just for you!”
That catches you off-guard.
You could have sworn you were at least ten minutes away from getting close, but hearing how vulnerable and unabashed her moans are, how Rei’s trying so hard to lift her face up from the table to look at you through the sweaty hair clinging to her face, a part of you is just taken by the moment and you lose all control.
“Shit, I’m going to cum. I’m going to fucking cum, Rei,” you declare, giving her ass repeated spanks to further sate your desire to overwhelm her, to just remind her that she may be your employer, but during moments like this? She’s yours.
She’s yours.
“I-I-I’m close too,” she huffs, body getting dragged back and forth against the dining table. She’s lucky there aren’t any complementary snacks on it—they’d be scattered all over the place now. Fortunately for you, the only mess you need laid out before you now is just Rei. “Don’t stop! Fuck, pound me harder. Harder! HARDER!”
Her begs and pleads egg you closer and closer, but you want to prolong it for just a moment. Just until you hear it. Just until she says it. You lift her up by under her arms until she’s drawn taut like a strung bow. “Say it, Rei. Tell me whose you are? Tell me whose fucking slut you are!”
“J-J-Just yoursssss nghhhh hnghhhh JUST YOURS! CUMMING!”
The both of you come in unison while you hold her close, arms moving towards her stomach and waist to wrap her tightly—so she can’t let go. As the tension from your core rolls over towards your balls before spiking through your shaft and tip, you feel Rei clench the last few times around your balls-deep dick, finishing herself off while also finishing you off deep inside of her.
Needless to say you two are fucking spent, collapsing onto one another against the table. Rei’s already groaning about how heavy you are, but you keep yourself against her back, dick still at an odd angle in her pussy.
Once you finally find the energy within you to pull away, your cock makes her pussy squelch before you hear the lascivious squirting sound of your second load of the night coming out of her well-used cunt.
You aren’t being an asshole in the slightest. But the moment you help Rei up, the first thing she does is slap your face.
You act like it doesn’t sting. Physically, at least. But seeing her watering eyes is what really gets you to form thick lumps in your throat.
“Hey,” you start, your voice gentler than it’s ever been. You move forward to try and reach for her, but she’s faster and darts out of the way. Too bad for her, you weren’t trained for nothing. You manage to catch her by her waist and hold her down. “You’ve been acting weird tonight. Really weird. Do you … want to talk about it?”
Sniffling, she blinks fast and shakes her head. “No. N-No, I don’t. I-I-I just—.”
“Rei.”
She knows when you call her name like that—just her name, and nothing else—that you’re being serious. That you mean business. Calming herself down a little and drying her eyes, she nods and returns to you. “Yeah, yeah sorry … I … Moment ruined haha. I just … I just expected you to get up and leave.”
“So you wanted me to leave you like that? All fucked out on the table?” you clarify, unsure of where this is headed. “I mean, if that’s your thing, then sure—.”
“No, asshole—that’s the problem. I … I already expect you—expect this—to be what it is. Just casual. But lately, when we … when we’re together like this, I … I feel …”
“Feel something different?”
Rei glances at you, frozen in place. If the circumstances were different, you might have reached out to brush the hair from her face, held her hand, maybe even picked her up playfully in your arms.
But this is not that kind of story. You’re just her bodyguard. The bodyguard whom she’s slowly getting a little too attached to.
“Look, Rei, this doesn’t have to get complicated if you don’t want it to. If it helps, just think of it this way: I’ll only be here when you want me, if you want me,” you propose, leaning against the table next to her. You figure not having to look eye-to-eye might make it easier for the idol. “You want a quick fuck? The guy you’re trying to hit on didn’t take you home? You’re lonely and all by yourself in the dorms? Call me. And I’ll be there. Until then, I won’t be in your way. Saves us all the thinking and feeling, yeah?”
“What if I want that thinking and feeling though?”
She glides towards you. Until your fingers touch atop the glass of the table. But Rei pushes further until your hips connect and she’s got a hand on your thigh now. Until it becomes impossible to ignore a different kind of heat spreading through you. “You … you’re different. And I like different. Because you’re never anything I might want, but also everything I tend to need. And lately, I … I don’t know. I’ve just been feeling like I want to be yours.”
“Tch, what have you done with the real Naoi Rei. She wouldn’t be saying all this sappy shit—she’d be demanding me to fuck her on the balcony.”
Rei lets out a hearty giggle but not without beating you several times with the small of her fist. “You really are such an asshole … and maybe I’m … I’m the weird one for liking that. All of it. All of … you.”
You shrug and cock your neck to the side, giving yourself some room to breathe. “You sure this is what you want? It’ll probably be easier with someone else. Heard you kept getting paired with that Niki boy from ENHYPEN. You two would make a great pair.”
“Ehh, he’s way too easy on the eyes. He wasn’t any fun in bed either.”
“Wait, did you actually sleep with him?”
Rei smirks and bites her lip. “What? Jealous?”
You part from the table so you’re facing her now, getting her between your legs as you loom over her. “Did you actually? Rei, I’m being serious. You know the protocol: I need to know these things. Especially before shit goes south, and—.”
“Are you saying that now as a bodyguard, as a fuckbuddy, or as someone else?”
You’re normally the one gagging Rei, but this time, she gags you. “I … That hardly makes a difference.”
“It does,” she argues, pursing her lips. “To me.”
You’ve spent the last three years protecting the woman in front of you from any harm that may come her way. Whether that’s in the form of delusional fans, desperate paparazzi, or damaging rumors. But the one thing all that time has never taught you was how to protect Rei from you.
Because even you can’t control yourself when you’re around her.
It’s not fair. How she gets away with everything. Sometimes thanks to you. Sometimes because of her own charm and wit. How she can be a flirt with the other idols. How she can act all innocent one day and be extremely suggestive the other. How she can just keep you on the edge every time, leaving you guessing about what she’s really thinking—what she really means. This push and pull with her has been around your little dynamic since kingdom come, and yet, when confronted with the need for an answer to it all, you’re unsure. You’re just so fucking unsure of what to say right now. To her.
So she answers for you.
“Forget it. This isn’t going to work out anyway. They’ll notice. They always do. You’ll start treating me nicer. Being more conscious and cautious around me. And just … being weird in public. If we keep up what we have and leave it at that, we can at least hide everything until we’re back here—behind closed doors, in our own little world, where no one else can see us.”
She feigns a smile and glances up at you as you hover over her. “Maybe that will have to be enough for me—.”
Your shaky lips pressing into hers stops her from ever finishing that little soliloquy. Rei’s breath grows ragged in the way that you know it to when she’s about to cry, but you hold the side of her face like you’ve always wanted to ever since seeing her for the first time at that boardroom meeting, and press your thumb against the slope of her nose.
When she pulls away, her face is dotted in confusion. But you clear your throat and muster up what little you have left in you to utter what you’re about to say next. “Let’s not put a label on it. This? I love it. You’re not the only one who needs this. Who needs me. Who … needs you. But let’s meet in the middle and just not call it anything. That way, we can just let it become what we both need it to be.”
Rei’s chuckling at your attempt at being sentimental, and immediately you just have this urge to spank her again. “I can work with that. Just promise me one thing.”
“If it’s to pull out, I can’t guarantee it all the time. Not anymore. Not after this.”
She bites her lips and jabs your chest. “Asshole. Just make sure it’s fun for you too. As much as I like the idea of using your dick like a personal dildo, I … I um …”
You don’t need her to finish the sentence. It’s abundantly clear you’re both terrible with words, so you let your bodies do all the talking instead.
Her fingers lacing through through your hair, yours feeling up her sides. Her mouth finding purchase against your neck with teeth, yours worshipping her nipples and breasts. Her breath coasting over your hardening cock and still-heavy balls, yours peppering the small of her back and the rump of her ass.
It’s different now. It really is. You can feel it. She can too. And you both love it.
The intensity. The devotion.
The fervency.
You’ve been all over the hotel room by now, but you both find yourselves back on the couch. When Rei breaks the kiss and smudges the back of her hand against her lips, you think she might climb onto your lap and indulge in you like that. But much to your surprise—and delight—she falls to her knees once again.
Ruffling her already messy bob, she groans and leans her face close to your semi-flaccid cock. Close enough so you can feel her warmth against your skin. “Think you can still go for another round? Let’s … let’s see how it feels like this.”
She doesn’t even go into any specifics, but you know what she means. “Yeah. Yeah, give me a minute—oh god, fuck, Rei.”
Rei only gives you approximately seventeen seconds before she’s kissing and dragging her lips up and down your shaft. She has a penchant for working underneath your head. Softer than a tickle. Firmer than a grasp. Rei grabs your cock and balls and glances down at it. “It’s all sticky and moist now. Has a funky feeling to it.”
“Yeah, and whose fault might that be exactly?”
She smirks and flicks your tip once with her tongue. “Let me clean up my mess then, daddy.”
Oh she has gone and done it now.
She goes cross-eyed looking at your tip, polishing it with one thumb. “Hm? Did you like that, daddy?”
You inhale deep through clenched teeth as she strokes you at a relaxed pace. “Fuck … Fuck yeah, yeah I do. Be a good little slut and clean up daddy’s cock.”
Rei bites her tongue and nods before smacking her lips against your head, working your tip with a mix of moans as she dutifully continues jerking you off at the same time. You can feel how she now sucks you off less like she’s trying to satiate her cravings for cock and cum and more like she’s trying to provide you the purest form of pleasure she can offer.
She paces herself, trading the grandstanding of forced deepthroats to make herself gag on your thick shaft in favor of a more rapid rhythm that gets you curling your fingers into the soft of the couch.
She fondles your balls in between motions, tugging on them downwards, rolling them between her lithe fingers. One of her hands glides up and down your thigh, digging her thumb into the crease of your muscle. And fuck, does it feel so heavenly coupled with the sight of your length disappearing into her pretty little face.
When she comes up for air, drool trickling down her chin, she strokes you fast, saliva coating your entire cock. “Mmmh … how did that feel? Does it feel good when I blow you like that, daddy? I love sucking your dick … it feels so good inside my mouth, pushing down against my tongue … hitting the back of my throat …”
“Shit … you can have this cock any day everyday, Rei … god, just don’t stop … keep going …”
Giggling, she palms over your head just to make you whimper a little. “I don’t want you to cum down my throat though. But before I really finish you off … how about I give daddy a bit more motivation to fuck me again.”
You lift a finger like you might ask her what that implies, but she’s way ahead of you.
You never got why Rei would often beg for you to stop when you continue eating her out or keep fucking her through her orgasm. But you understand that now when she threatens to break her neck with how fast she’s bobbing up and down the full length of your dick with no intentions of slowing down.
Gripping your balls firmer, she looks up at you, through her tears, grunting every time your head pushes into her throat by even just an inch, lapping at what little of your underside she could with her pinned tongue.
Meanwhile, you’re curling upwards, meeting her warm and wet mouth as much as you can before you feel the pit of your stomach readying to burst. “Shit … shit, Rei that’s so fucking hot. Fucking swallow my cock down that slutty throat of yours—god, make daddy feel good. Make daddy feel so fucking good, baby.”
She catches your term of endearment and smirks. With one final fast pump of your dick, she holds you, sheathing you deep inside of her tight little idol mouth, before retracting backwards inch by glorious inch so she can reveal the new messy coating and sheen of your cock thanks to her ministrations.
Coughing a little bit, she snorts to the side before sitting on the balls of her feet, your cock still in her hand. “Nghhh … all worked up now, aren’t you, daddy? One last round?”
“One last round,” you confirm, bounding from the couch. When Rei stands up to join you, you take this opportunity to sweep her off her feet again, and she takes this chance to wrap her legs around your body once more, and you both take this moment to indulge in each other’s lips—never boring of how the other tastes—and tumble towards the bedroom like this.
Sandalwood and bergamot hit your nostrils, but the only scent your mind can focus on is the mixture of heady sweat, drying cum, and splattering saliva shared between your bodies as you lay her down on the mattress and pillows.
You climb on top of her but she’s shaking her head. “Daddy … as much as I want you to pound me into the sheets, I … I want to ride you,” she confesses, biting her lip like an innocent church girl—but you know she’s anything but that. “Please? Fuck, I want to ride you so hard one last time and feel you finish inside me while we’re … while we’re together like that …”
You kiss her neck and grind your dick against her still-wet pussy a bit more, not offering her reply, just selfishly searing this moment of brief intimacy into the back of your mind before you get ridden.
“Daddy … daddy please, stop teasing meeee … mmmh! Ahhh! Fuck … my pussy’s already aching for your dick again … Please … please … one more … one last … let me ride you …”
You push down the voice in your head that wants to make her beg. Instead, you turn the volume up on the voice that wants to indulge her desire. “Are you going to ride me until I can’t feel my thighs from how fast you’ll be bouncing on top of me?”
Biting her lip, she nods in rapid succession, caressing up and down your shoulders as you continue grinding against her. “I’ll ride you so good it’s all you’re ever going to be thinking about when we sit next to each other on the plane ride home, daddy.”
That’s just what you wanted to hear.
Rei gasps and giggles over how fast you swap places with her, trading the luxury of pinning down her soft curves in favor of feeling their weight on you. She’s just as quick to adjust too, already resting her supple cheeks against your thighs.
Swirling her hand around your cock, she measures you against her soft-toned torso. “Oh wow, I took all of this inside me? Fuck … that’s actually really hot. I didn’t think you were this big.”
“It would be even hotter visually seeing you get stretched out, you know,” you tease back.
Nodding, Rei lifts her hip up momentarily to push your head in through the tight ring of her entrance, and when it slips inside of her, the rest just falls into place.
“Mmm, fuck … daddy …” she grumbles, not bouncing, just grinding her mound against your own while feeling your full length inside of her. She reaches out for your chest, drawing lazy figures and shapes across it. “We really need to find the time to just fuck all weekend. I can’t … nghh … I can’t just keep doing quickies like these anymore.”
“We’re beyond quickies at this point,” you tell her, fighting back a sharp moan yourself. “And I won’t say no to that. I wonder what the company might think when we request for a hotel room in the middle of an empty schedule.”
“We’ll use my card,” she groans, steadily working her pace faster, gliding with her hips. You want nothing more than to feel her bouncing on your cock right now, but you temper yourself. “Mmmh, I might use it to buy a bunch of other things for you too, daddy.”
There’s a pause. Rei licks her lips with a knowing smirk when she feels you throb inside her from imagining how she’d look in the skimpiest of lingeries. “I think daddy likes that idea too.”
You grip her waist with a touch so needy that it’s all Rei needs to know.
“Oh … fuck … fuck … shit … daddy … daddy!”
Each word is prefaced by a bounce. Each pause is predicated by a low, deep moan.
You suck in deep as you lift up from the bed and envelop yourself in her chest. One hand kneading her right tit, the other taking in the scent of her skin as she rides you. Rei sinks into a gentle bliss when you palm over her nipple, and you find it both endearing and so fucking sexy how she grips your shoulder every time you roll over it.
You start bucking up into her to try and quicken her pace, but Rei pushes you back down onto the mattress and pins you by your lower stomach. “Let … nnghhh ahhh! Let me do the work. Let me ride you, daddy.”
Spanking her ass, you tap it twice before retreating your hands behind your head. “Then ride me like there’s no tomorrow, baby.”
Licking her puffy lips clean, Rei wastes no time.
She first bounces with her knees, sinking and lifting herself to a practiced rhythm as she acquiesces to the feeling of your dick inside of her in this new position. But when she craves more than this, she lets her instincts kick in and gets more daring.
Rei leans backwards and rides with her hips. Her hands swap between your shins and her own ass as she struggles to balance herself atop you. When she stumbles forward, you catch her with one hand to her chest.
You both make eye contact and there’s this drag of a gasp from her when she feels your grasp.
Giggling, she understands the assignment. Growing less self-conscious, Rei relies on you to keep her steady as she allows herself to alternate between riding you and grinding into you. Whenever she tires from working your thick shaft inside her, she cools off a bit with several rounds of humping to get her off, before she returns to the task at hand.
But your hands never sit still. You caress down the parting of her body, front and center, between her cleavage, down to her stomach. If you press firmly enough you can feel the faint motions of your dick being taken in and out of her. The faint outline of a bulge forming just beneath your palm.
“Hnghhhh … daddyyyy … so full—so fucking full. I love it, I love it, I love it—AHHH MMMHH!”
You lift your hand beneath her breast, scoop it up, swat it a few times. Move to the other side and do the same. Settling on her right tit, you slap them lightly without pause, enjoying how her breasts jiggle for you with each mount of her ride, delighting in how she full-body shudders with each gloss of your thumb against her nipple.
“Fuck fuck FUUUUCK, dadddyyyy, you’re t-t-teasing me … nghhhh you know how sensitive I-AMMMM AHHHH DADDY!”
You’re fondling both breasts now, rubbing her nipples between both of your thumbs and index fingers, polishing them to perfection. You can feel the shakiness of her breath—like her lungs might give out. “Ride me, Rei. Keep fucking riding daddy’s cock. Don’t stop … fuck … don’t fucking stop. Keep bouncing on my dick like that—like a good little slut. Like daddy’s good little fucking slut.”
“Y-Yes daddy! Yes … yes … YES! More … MORE PLEASE!”
“Do you like it when I play with your full fucking tits like this? While you’re riding daddy?”
“Yes … yes! Not a—MMMH MMMPH—day goes by! When … when I don’t imagine daddy playing with them … teasing them … u-using them—fuck!”
“Who’s my Nagoyan fucktoy? Who’s my good little tight slutty fucking Nagoyan fucktoy?” you growl, approaching your own orgasm, flicking her nipples in fervent motions to help her chase her own.
“I AM! I FUCKING AM DADDY! C-C-CUMMINGGGG NGHHH—.”
There’s just something about Rei getting off from her own debasement that turns you so fucking on. But in this moment, all you can think about is bucking what little with your hips you can up and into her to chase your own orgasm. When she clenches down hard once more, crumbling almost instantaneously onto you, you hold her by the waist and fuck the last few tremors of her climax into her as you shoot your final load of the night into Rei.
Breathing. Just heavy breathing.
Rei swipes a hand across her forehead, leans onto your chest, and bites her lip, gesturing at you with her eyebrows. “Was I any good? I don’t really get to ride you that much, so …”
“Never doubted you one bit. Knew you had it in you,” you assure her, resting a hand on her ass. You contemplate spanking her, but the girl deserves a break. “Fuck, we need to do something about those nipples of yours, baby. You can’t just keep cumming whenever someone plays with them.”
She pouts and her lips do this thing where it gets all kissable. It’s adorable. “You’re the only one who plays with them. You’re too obsessed, daddy! Now they’re all sore.”
You help her back up into a sit, your cock still inside her pussy as you kiss around the soft pad of her areolas. “There, feeling better?”
Blushing, Rei nods. “Yes, daddy.”
“You love calling me that a little too much. It’s cute.”
“Shut up.”
“I won’t,” you whisper as you kiss her cheek. Even Rei’s surprised by this. This isn’t part of the script. Isn’t part of the usual routine. Then again, nothing about tonight has been anything remotely like what it used to be between you two. But neither of you resolve to acknowledge it.
Rei taps your chest twice, and you know what that means. Carefully, she dismounts you, rubbing her pussy out a few times to soothe herself as your last load trickles out of her. Once she’s recovered, she makes her way to the bathroom, giving you an unknowing view of her swaying ass.
As you take in the final glance of her naked form before she disappears behind the bathroom door, you can’t help but hope that she might turn around. Just a glance. Just a look. But it never comes, and soon, the idol’s already running the water, readying for her post-sex shower.
Alone. Like always.
You do some cleaning up of your own. Fixing the sheets, wiping yourself, rehydrating with some shoddy sparkling water. Anything to get your mind off of things.
By the time she’s done, she’s dressed in her personal pink robe, and you’re already fitted in your boxers. She doesn’t wait for you to say anything. Rei just gets into bed and claims the side closer to the wall, leaving you to roll onto your back on the side closer to the bedside table.
And neither of you say a word. Just like before.
Just like always
As Rei drifts off to sleep behind you, a final thought permeates your exhausted mind. In the grand scheme of things, you really are just another fuck to her. And maybe, just maybe, it’s better this way. For her sake or for yours, you’re not quite sure. But if this is what it takes to maintain what you two have, then you’ll gladly bite that bullet.
Because having her like this is better than having none of her at all.
Something shifts on the bed. Before it registers, an arm comes around you, but doesn’t pull you in. Instead, the body attached to said arm pulls itself in. Towards you. Against your side. Fitting her face against the length of your arm.
“Rei …”
“Don’t … don’t say anything. Don’t make this weird,” she pleads, her hand atop your chest caressing you in fervent frolicking strokes. “Just let it happen.”
You dig your hand and arm underneath her, shifting her head closer to your chest, and hold the length of her small back against you like that. “Ok.”
Everyone wants a piece of her. Everyone wants a piece of Naoi Rei.
But, perhaps, you’re the only one who has the privilege of having her completely like this.
You’re the only one with the highest honor of being hers.
You don’t think you ever found true happiness until you met Kang Haerin.
Before Haerin came into your life, it felt like you were living in a simulation. You had a normal, boring routine—you stocked up the books at the library, directed the kindergarten teachers where to lead their students, and went home.
That’s what you did because you were a fresh grad with a journalism major and no backups and also, nobody wanted to fucking hire you. They said something about mental ability, which was insulting, to say the least. Why should they let some stupid doctor define how you could prove yourself? You had batchmates with less amazing CVs than you and one of them is an author now. New York Times bestseller. Signed copies going for thousands of dollars.
And you? You’re stuck in your local public library, getting sick quite literally because of the dust (endless dust), and pretending that you still want to live. You had no parents or siblings to be of service to. All you had in this world was you, and you weren’t an ideal person to love. You can be honest with yourself.
But then Haerin walked in. The moment the door of the library clinked open, so did her entrance to your life. You knew you loved her immediately. It had to be fate, because this girl—this impossibly beautiful girl—walked up to you and asked:
“Where can I find a book about dreams?”
You stared at her dumbly, your Adam’s apple bobbing. She had curly hair and serious almond eyes that stared into your soul.
“Hello?” she said. “My name is Haerin. I need a book about dreams.”
“A-Are you looking for anything in particular?”
If Haerin was weirded out, she didn’t show it. Her face didn’t move an inch in spite of its soft lines. “No,” she replied. Always so straightforward, even… now?
“No authors? Because—um, I have a manuscript right now about a dreamer.”
“Really,” said Haerin, and you couldn’t tell if she was fascinated or sarcastic.
“He had a dream about a girl with catlike eyes. She kept appearing in his dreams until one day, she walked in as if she was real.”
Haerin stared blankly at you. You really fumbled big-time. You looked around at the dusty shelves and the dozing librarian and the dim lights. Here was a girl who had a classic beauty straight out of paintings with the composed clarity of a musical sheet. She didn’t belong here. She deserved to be somewhere she could be recognized and lauded for how beautiful she is.
And instead, she had a nosy librarian’s assistant using a cheesy pickup line on her.
Haerin started to laugh. Her serious eyes looked soft for a moment there, and all you could see in the caramel brown was you. You wanted to tell her about the silence rule but you couldn’t. You were laughing, too. Both of you could get in trouble.
“I’m sorry. That was really corny,” you admitted, scratching the back of your neck.
Haerin stifled the last of her giggles. “That’s fine. We can always start again. Watch.”
She snapped her fingers before turning on her heel. Her Mary Janes brought her back where you started, and back to the desk where you would start again. She was smiling this time as she held out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Kang Haerin,” she said. You shook hands firmly. “I dreamed about a guy who used a corny line to hit on me. But it’s fine, because he was really cute and I could tell he’s nice. Do you think I can find a story like that anywhere?”
Above you, the lamp flickered once. It never did that before. Must be a sign.
You smiled back at her. “I have just the thing.”
-
It didn’t take much dating for you to know she was the one. You knew from the second you saw her. But Haerin was shyer than she had let herself come across, and that didn’t matter anyway because you were willing to wait. You would wait forever if you needed to.
Forever lasted four months. On the first date, she wore a chic black dress with her hair now straightened in dark locks. You had coffee together. She talked about how, like you, she was also a fresh grad. She took theater, which surprised you because she didn’t look the type to show expression. One time, you made a funny joke and Haerin laughed without smiling. You apologized for your lack of humor and she had to clarify that she loved the joke.
But Haerin had many faces. One she often used was the expressionless look that made her a blank canvas.
“People are going to take me the wrong way whatever I do,” she explained over a sip of her black coffee. “So I just don’t respond at all and let them think about what I meant.”
“Do you ever show them what you actually feel?”
Haerin shrugged. “Only to the people I know could take me the wrong way but still love me anyway.”
Another face Haerin had was one that showed her wide, toothy smile. It took a lot to get it out of her, until it didn’t. It made you realize that Haerin wasn’t as hard to make happy as people thought. She said she was often told she was a strange girl; her exes never knew what she wanted and broke things off when they gave up.
But when you moved in together, she laughed when she heard you speak through a mouthful of toothpaste. She smiled when you kissed her under the moonlight at the balcony. Her eyes lit up whenever you told her you got her a new book.
“How do you always know what I want?” she asked in disbelief, flipping the hardbound on her lap. She looked even prettier without the makeup or distressed perm, when she lounged on your sofa with her natural straight hair wearing your shirt.
“You said you wanted a classic mystery, and you could never go wrong with Sherlock Holmes.” You waved it off. You turned the television off for the night. Haerin hated the drill of the multiple-of-five volume dialogue when she’s trying to get herself sleepy.
“But how did you know? It’s so perfect.”
Doesn’t she get it? “It’s easy to tell what you want, Haerin. Ridiculously easy, I don’t even have to try.”
Haerin rolled her eyes, but she got an idea. She crawled over to you and made herself comfortable on your lap. Her bare thighs were smooth against yours. You held her waist as she stared deeply into your eyes.
Not only was Haerin attentive and sweet. It was like God took her qualities and made her physical form just as beautiful. She had a tiny, blemishless face with a nose you loved to nuzzle against. Her body was small and her waist fit into your hands perfectly, like you were made to hold her.
Haerin was smirking. “Alright then,” she said. “If you always know what I want, tell me what I want now.”
Her voice was soft. You looked down at her pink mouth and back up into those dreamy eyes. Like you said, way too easy.
“Me.”
“Don’t get smart,” said Haerin, but she proved you right with a deep, literally breathtaking kiss.
When Haerin kissed, it was like she was trying to pull the soul out of your mortal form and join it with her own. She closed her eyes and shoved her tongue deep in your mouth, her hips working in circles on your lap. The tiny pair of lace panties quickly got wet, and she moaned when your tip bumped against that patch of arousal.
This face was one she only showed to you. You slipped your hands under that big shirt and felt her toned abdomen and perky breasts, feeling her up and down. Every little touch made Haerin’s breath catch. It made her grind her clit more urgently against your erection, looking for something only you can give her. Most of all, it made her face twist and contort into one of pure pleasure, eyes widening and lips parting.
Haerin couldn’t take it anymore. She slipped her panties to the side, showing how wet you made her. She’s soaked as she took you inside her. Her body tightened up and curled into your arms. Your T-shirt long gone, Haerin started to ride you like she needed it. Like you’d disappear if she didn’t get what she wanted while you were here.
“Oh, oh fuck, right there…” Haerin shivered when you started thrusting up to meet her halfway. She had coated your length from base to head with her juices. There’s an endless stream of it.
You pulled her down with you. The sofa springs bore the intensity of your strokes. You held her hand as you kissed and bit her neck, groaning into her vanilla-sweet flesh. She was so easy to take when she was always so wet for you. Her legs locked behind your back in order to keep you there.
“Don’t stop, please,” whimpered Haerin, eyes filled with stars. “I love you. Don’t leave me.”
The lamp sitting on your center table went out. You couldn’t see Haerin’s face bathed in reds and oranges anymore. But you loved her, and so you kept your promise.
-
You were finally sure after years of not having things figured out. You were unsure about what you wanted to be. You were even more unsure when the time came for you to choose a course. When you graduated in that stadium with flowers surrounding you and cheers deafening you, you didn’t know what to do with your degree. You had no idea where to go.
But Haerin made you so certain of yourself. You didn’t want to paint her as someone who was the solution to all your problems and illustrate her to be a savior she never chose to be. But it wasn’t a coincidence that she came right when you were lost and suddenly you were on track for the first time in your life.
She made you want to become something. Just looking at her caused you to think of all the beautiful things a beautiful girl like her deserved—a good boyfriend, a nice car, a relationship that nurtured her. So you worked hard to give her all of that.
She held a hand to her mouth when she saw the gorgeous car parked in the garage. She was half-sobbing, half-laughing. “This is so sweet. What did I do to deserve you? Thank you, but—”
“What?”
She burst out laughing like never before. “I don’t know how to drive…” she replied. She looked a little sullen now. You took money out of your own pocket to get her a beautiful car only for her to be unable to drive. She couldn’t even parallel park. You probably thought it was a waste.
But you placed an arm around her and kissed her on top of her head. “It’s alright, baby,” you said. “I’ll do it for you. We can go wherever you like.”
All she had to do was say the words. You took her everywhere: malls, forests, airports. Funny; you only got a driver’s license the year before. You commuted back and forth but with Haerin, you revved the car up and picked her up from the salon.
All she had to do was ask. So now, you were at a beach where the shores were nearly white and the skies seemed to fall down on your shoulders. The clouds bore the weight of it all. It was nearly winter, so there was but a faint bit of sunlight. It refracted in the bubbles Haerin blew into the wind.
She was smiling so brightly. That was the only sunshine you needed.
Later that night, she said she didn’t want to leave yet. So you started a campfire while she bought soft marshmallows from the nearby grocery. A woollen quilt kept her warm. You let the fire toast your marshmallows into a rich brown.
“What if we get lost doing this?” Haerin asked. She looked at the stars in the sky, the sand around her. “Doing…” She gestured vaguely with her hands. “All of this. These wild adventures without a map or even a GPS.”
“We won’t,” you replied. You sounded so sure of yourself. It didn’t once occur to you that you could live a life without Kang Haerin. She belonged in your passenger seat, your lap, the deep brooks of your heart.
She bit off a piece of marshmallow from her stick. “We still have to be careful though. We won’t know every street forever.”
Right. Because one day, when you two got older and hopefully wiser, these roads would change. You wouldn’t know everybody in the neighborhood as soon as the newer, younger ones filed in. Everything would be nothing like you knew it was.
You hated to say it, but in spite of the darkness that dressed Haerin’s words, she was right. It wouldn’t be like this forever.
“Okay,” you said finally, thinking for a moment. “If I lost you, what would you do to lead me back?”
Haerin sat back into the sand. So many thoughts ran into her head at all hours of the day, and if you didn’t love her to death, you wouldn’t know. She often looked too mature, too composed to ever be bothered by anything. The Kang Haerin everybody knew was resilient. And when she was too resilient, she could risk being malleable to people. They could lie to themselves by saying they could mold her into whoever they wanted her to be.
But that wasn’t Haerin. So she turned up her chin and said, “I’d open a light.”
“What kind of light?”
“I dunno, anything.” She shrugged. “A fire, lamplight, or campfire. It doesn’t matter. If I shine it, I know you’ll get me out of the dark.”
The flames danced in golden flickers in her eyes. Haerin stared at it until her marshmallow burned and joined the ashes at the bottom of the log pile. You gave her your share.
“How about you?” Haerin asked. She scooted closer until the contact of your bodies seemed to spark hotter than the campfire itself. “How would I know if you’re lost?”
“Don’t worry about that. Leave the saving to me.”
-
Haerin didn’t like fighting with you. It made her cry real tears that could fill a pool if either of you were rich enough to afford one. She didn’t like all the yelling. She didn’t like how small it made her feel and not in the good way you managed to make it out to be when you’re in the chambers of your bedroom.
You tried not to yell at her. Whenever your voice got too intense, you turned away from her so she couldn’t see that you were angry. It helped you too because you couldn’t bear to see her sad. It felt like you were one with her emotions and tore you into pieces as it did to her.
“I just don’t know why you’re doing this,” she said. “You said you loved me. Why don’t you fucking show it?”
Unbelievable. You curled your hands through your hair and stopped yourself from pulling it out of the scalp.
“What else do you want me to do? I give you everything, Haerin. My car, my clothes, my time.”
The calendar pages ripped faster than the seams on your jacket. It’s been months since you graduated and she’s nearly twenty years old. You’re happy with each other. You’re the best company both of you could ever ask for. No one can understand you quite like Haerin does.
But oftentimes, that isn’t enough.
It’s what she’s trying to get across. Haerin’s dress tatters were crushed in her fists. She’s crying her heart out because she didn’t like being reminded of that. Ever. Youth was so comfortable it tricked you into believing it was something eternal.
You finally had the courage to turn around and look her in the eyes. To look her in those big, beautiful eyes and force yourself to recognize the truth. There were real problems in the world that trips and outings and sex couldn’t solve.
“Time, baby,” you said softly, in a broken voice you couldn’t claim as your own. It had been a while since you sounded so unsure. “Do you know how little time we have left?”
Neither of you should be blinded by the quick bliss you had now. You shouldn’t be fools. The lamp’s starting to look weird again. You needed to wake up—
Wake up.
-
Wake up.
The air that hits you is cold. You open your eyes groggily and quickly find out why. A blue hospital gown doesn’t really help warm your legs. The blanket is thin and cheap. The only warmth you can find is from the dull sting of pain from the needles shoved in the veins of your arms.
What an odd dream that was. You lift yourself up on the bed the best you can. Your body still feels tired. Part of you wants to go back to sleep again, but you stop yourself. If you close your eyes, you’re not sure if you’re going to wake up again.
You trail your fingers on the thick bandage taped to your skull. Around you, colorful balloons dance in the steady AC wind. You squint. One reads, in cursive: Happy 20th!
Before you is a wide television screen. Right now, it presents a photo of a girl with catlike eyes and hair curled for what looks to be a music show event. She’s smiling, but the headline gives her no reason to. It tells you of the lawsuit that follows her and her band at their heels, how it won’t leave them alone.
The red and blue colors of her stock image are blinding. You ask the doctor to turn off the light.
12.4k words | smut, threesome, femdom, sub! reader, edging
━•✦•━•✦•━
"Mr. Duplantier, please raise your head."
A heavy breath escaped your nostrils as you obeyed the order. You stared at the high ceiling. Thierry, your butler for as long as you could remember, and also your tailor, was adjusting the collar of your three-piece tuxedo, made of vicuña wool, silk, and you had no idea what the hell else. Frankly, you didn't care. You never had.
You were in the main foyer on the second floor of your family residence in Le Roucas-Blanc, standing on a small circular platform. In front of you, a large window opened onto the private terrace, overlooking the tranquil and beautiful Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Marseille. The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky in intense shades of red and orange.
"I really don't want to attend that gala, Thierry," you said quietly, clenching your fists nervously.
"I know you don't want to, but you have no other choice, sir," he replied. His voice was velvety and deep. "Your father is counting on you."
You sighed and lowered your head when Thierry allowed you to. The man, well into his seventies, with long, graying hair, took his time bending down and adjusting the hem of your trousers. It was understandable that his body wasn't in its prime anymore. Not like you remembered it ten years ago, when he used to chase you around the residence to scold you for your mischief. Back then you were happier, of course, because you didn't know what it truly meant to be the heir to such a vast fortune, nor all the pressure that rested on your shoulders.
"He's counting on me, but he doesn't care how I feel," you spat out, your gaze lost in the soothing sea.
“That’s nonsense, my young sir,” Thierry straightened with a grunt and draped the handkerchief he’d used to polish your shoes over his left shoulder. “Your father loves you. I know because I’ve known him for forty years.”
“What kind of love is it to force your son to attend silly galas and social events? He knows I’m a disaster.”
“They are your duties, sir,” Thierry remarked, now adjusting your sleeves. “Whether you like it or not. And you’re not a disaster. In fact, you’re a great man with a big heart.”
“That’s no good when you’re terrified in a large enough crowd,” you retorted. “Do you think an heir can be this awful at social events? What will the investors think of me?”
“You don’t need to be a social butterfly to be a good heir, Mr. Duplantier,” Thierry said, turning his back on you and taking a small trunk from the fold-out table he always used for occasions like this. “The stability of your family will be measured by how you perform behind your desk. You don’t need to be friends with anyone.”
“My father would say that’s ridiculous,” you replied absently.
Thierry opened the small trunk. From inside, he took out a watch: the rose-gold Patek Philippe Complications you wore for special occasions. After placing the trunk back on the table, he approached, took your wrist, and looked you in the eye. His gaze was paternal. Intimate.
“With all due respect, Arno, you take what your father says far too seriously,” he said, his voice so measured that it eased your tension. "His way of seeing the world is very different from yours, for his path was taken under completely different circumstances. You already have the path laid out for you, and your only task, my young sir, is not to stray from it, whatever method you use to walk it."
The old man's words pulled you from your reverie. You remained thoughtful for a second, your gaze lowered. The anxiety that gnawed at you didn't disappear immediately, but you were able to see things from a different perspective. One that, perhaps, would serve as a mantra to which you could take refuge during difficult times.
It didn't solve all your problems, but it was a start.
Thierry adjusted the watch on your right wrist and lowered the sleeve of your tuxedo. Unfortunately, you were now ready to leave.
"Your driver is waiting for you downstairs," the old man said, taking a step back. "Allow me to accompany you, sir."
You nodded.
“Yes, of course,” you stepped off the small circular platform, let Thierry take the lead, and followed him.
The Rolls Royce Cullinan that always took you places was waiting outside, parked on the street. It was supposed to be yours, but you’d never actually driven it. Thierry walked beside you and opened the rear door for you when you reached the curb.
“I wish you the best of luck, sir,” Thierry said. “Everything will go well today. You’ll see.”
Your old butler wasn't one to break with formalities often, so it was up to you to break that barrier a little now and then. On this occasion, you did so by giving him a hug. Thierry didn't reject it, but he was careful not to wrinkle your tuxedo too much.
"Thank you, Thierry," you said softly, holding him tightly in your arms. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Thierry patted you on the back a couple of times.
"You're a strong lad. You would have managed."
After a few seconds, you stepped away from him, gave him one last appreciative nod, and got into the car. The driver started the engine seconds later.
By the time you arrived at your destination—about ten minutes later—it was already night in Marseille.
The car pulled up to the esplanade of the Palais du Pharo, built by Napoleon III in 1858. Outside, there were fewer journalists than you'd expected, but you noticed the place was packed inside. You weren't sure if so many people or such a large venue were really necessary to begin with, but wealthy people loved inviting other wealthy people, as well as their families. It was no wonder the crowd was so large.
Your driver got out and opened the door for you. After a deep breath, you stepped out of the car. Immediately, two men stood beside you: your bodyguards. You knew them both; these two in particular had been serving your family for three years. Mario on the left, Antoine on the right.
The sound of the Rolls Royce door closing behind you was drowned out by the flurry of camera shutters that erupted the moment you started walking. Thankfully, the press hadn't completely surrounded the esplanade. However, the few photographers keeping watch behind the barriers seemed to multiply with every passing second between flashes. You walked, feeling the lash of the Mistral breeze; a frigid, dry, salty air that stung your forehead and threatened to muss your hair.
It was downright torturous, but after suffering permanent damage to your damned retina from the flashes and turning down a few interviews—not you, really; Antoine was in charge of doing it for you—you reached the steps of the Palace. The enormous structure loomed ominously before you, like an imperial colossus made of limestone, bathed in amber light that highlighted its black mansard roofs.
You began to climb the steps, feeling the weight of the gazes of the newly arrived guests who turned, curious, to see how a bigger fish than themselves was making an appearance. It was no secret to you that you were rather unpopular with the elite. The only thing that reassured you, at least, was that the motives were purely superficial, since you had never actually done anything to anyone.
As you crossed the threshold, the port's chill gave way to a dense, dry air. The main hall stretched out beneath a black and white marble floor, a polished checkerboard pattern that reflected the gleam of the chandeliers on the ceiling. The walls, moreover, were paneled in dark oak halfway up, and the upper portion was upholstered in silk tapestries in pristine cream tones.
You ascended the interior stone staircase. Upon reaching the main floor, you entered the Salons Napoléoniens, a suite of interconnected rooms that formed the historic heart of the building, its walls adorned in white and gold. The wooden parquet floor led you to the Salon Eugénie, where the greatest number of important figures, and probably your father, would be found.
Of course, you weren't wrong.
Pascal Duplantier occupied the center of the long, rectangular room, beneath the main crystal chandelier, letting, as always, the flow of people orbit around him like his own personal asteroid belt. Behind him, through the immense arched windows, the lights of Fort Saint-Jean and the entrance to the Old Port were silhouetted against the black of the Mediterranean Sea.
Your heart raced for a split second. You tried to blend in and lose yourself among the guests, but he spotted you quickly. You stopped dead in your tracks. Your father's chin tensed slightly, then he bowed his head to his inner circle and walked toward you.
Standing just inches from you, Pascal placed a firm hand on your shoulder, almost a grip. One of the many ways he asserted his authority over you, forcing you to keep your shoulders straight.
"It’s good that you’re here, son," he said, giving your shoulder a light shake. "You look quite handsome. You’re wearing the..."
"The watch you gave me?" you cut him off. "Yes, of course."
A smile spread across his face from ear to ear.
"Splendid, because I have a couple of people I’d like to introduce you to."
Pascal stepped aside and gave you a gentle nudge to get you moving.
"But..."
Unwilling to accept any objections, your father steered you through the crowd until you reached one of the marble fireplaces at one end of the ballroom. A group of four people stood waiting in silence, observing your arrival with an uncomfortable and barely disguised scrutiny. You were forced to converse with them for a couple of agonizing minutes, but eventually—and once your father gave you leave—you managed to slip away.
The relief of escaping your father’s circle was immediate, yet you knew that your peace wouldn't last for very long. Sooner or later, someone was bound to approach you; it was always that way. And while it wasn't something that particularly bothered you, you preferred to speak with as few people as possible.
The gala was being held in this room as well as two others—one of which was larger and more centrally located. You headed there, toward the spacious bar that had been set up, politely greeting those who respectfully approached you. Some seemed eager to prolong the conversation, but you cut them all short with a wide array of excuses you had long since mastered.
"Just a sparkling water, please," you requested of the bartender, hands clasped behind your back, shoulders back, and posture straight. You might not have been the most eloquent of speakers, but you took pleasure in elegance and in maintaining proper etiquette.
It took the bartender just under a minute to hand you the small, wide glass. You cradled it between your fingers, letting the cold lower your pulse a little before taking a small sip. There were too many people there. They could pretend all they wanted that they weren't watching your every minuscule movement, but you weren't a fool; you knew when you were being judged.
And frankly, you didn't handle pressure very well.
You scanned the room with an eagle eye, searching for a place to slip away to.
There. All the windows facing the room's balcony were closed, save for one. Sparkling water in hand, you stepped away from the bar and made your way through the mass of guests. Of course, you didn't have to exert much effort, as people tended to part around you like a school of fish around a shark.
They let you out onto the balcony without any trouble. The change in the air was instantaneous, and the sea breeze blew once again, comforting against your face. You let out a deep exhale, took a sip of your water, and rested a hand on the balustrade, between two sculptures carved from the same limestone.
The beautiful garden stretching out before the palace and the cliff became the focus of your attention as you sank into your ruminations. Part of them revolved around Thierry’s words. The old butler was wise; you would never doubt that. But he couldn't truly understand how difficult it was for you to be there at that moment, wanting to jump off the balcony as if the building itself were on fire. It was frustrating, for you truly wished you could be better than that. An ideal heir, charismatic and...
Someone stepped out onto the balcony. You were no longer alone.
The sound of footsteps snapped you out of your reverie. Heels. Two pairs. Two women. You kept your gaze fixed on the horizon, relying on your peripheral vision to observe as two figures—clad in matching black dresses—settled at a moderate distance from you. You took a subtle step to the left, claiming that corner of the balustrade for yourself.
They began speaking in an Asian language. After listening for a few seconds, you realized it was Japanese. What on earth were two Japanese women doing in Marseille? Your father didn't have business partners on that side of the world—not that you knew of, anyway; just a couple of Chinese investors who hadn't even attended due to scheduling conflicts.
You didn't understand a single word, but the difference between the two of them was evident. One woman’s voice was colder, more reserved; she weighed every word carefully and relied on short, concise sentences. The other was far more expressive, faster-paced. It almost seemed as though she didn't process her thoughts before letting them tumble out of her mouth.
The reason you had come outside was to be alone; but if you weren't going to get that solitude anymore, what was the point of staying? You turned around—very slowly—and took...
The exchange between them ceased abruptly.
"Are you also going to escape from here, Arno?" one of them asked in perfect French, amused.
You stayed very still. Shit.
Not wanting to be rude, you slowly turned around until you were looking at them.
And for Christ's sake, they were both beautiful.
"Euh… excusez-moi?" you said.
The woman on the left, with skin as pale as a piece of white chalk, dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail and dressed in a tight black dress that hugged her toned figure with a blazer on, took a step forward, a subtle smile on her face,
"Excuse my friend, Monsieur Duplantier," she said, also in perfect French, her hands clasped on her belly. Her voice was deep, authoritative. "The fresh air makes her think out loud."
"It's okay," you said, and looked at them both. "Uhm... do I know you?"
"No, the truth is that you don’t have the honor," said the other woman, with her lower back leaning against the balustrade and a glass of wine in her hand. Her raven hair was long and shiny, with perfectly cut bangs and two strands of hair marking her round face on each side.
Her companion gave her a stern look, to which she responded by raising the glass to her lips to take a sip.
"Excuse her again," the pale woman insisted with a slight bow. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. I am Céliane Velyaro, director of procurement at Dumonra Holdings, and my assistant here is Noélie Tessara."
You frowned. Those weren’t exactly… Japanese names. In fact, they even sounded French. Who were these women?
"Ah… my pleasure," you nodded. "I'm Arno. Arno..."
"Duplantier," Noélie cut you off. "We know."
Dahyun glared at her again, but instead of scolding her, she sighed.
"Dumonra Holdings, you say?" you asked. You didn't really know what to do with your hands considering that you were holding a glass in one, so you chose to carry them behind your back, tapping the floor with the top of your foot, avoiding direct eye contact. "It... rings a bell."
"That's fantastic!" Céliane said, her voice a little more spirited, but just as restrained. "I am pleased to know that our influence is beginning to extend beyond Oros. You see..."
There it was. Oros. Of course they were not Japanese. Actually, they weren’t French either.
"Where was Oros again?" you asked, more to yourself than to them. "It was the… east coast of the United States, right? Near New York?"
"You are correct."
You nodded slowly. Oros was probably one of the most important cities in the world in recent years. Many things reached the ears of the European Union, some certainly disturbing. But until now the relationship between the city-state and the rest of the political-commercial landscape had been predominantly cold. For now, you feared.
"Uhm... well, I hope you enjoy the evening. Thank you for coming."
"We're interested in your family business, Arno," Noélie was quick to say as you were about to go back inside.
You stopped in your tracks once again and let out a sigh. Seriously, they didn't realize you just wanted to run away?
"Those matters are handled by my father," you said, exhausted. "I'm afraid I have no power over the business."
Céliane's lips curved into a smile... somewhat ominous.
"Not yet," she replied.
"Yes, and that means I have no power to discuss these matters with anyone. With your permission..."
"Don't you feel suffocated, Arno?" Noélie asked, and for the first time, she moved away from the balustrade and stood close to you. "With unbearable pressure on your shoulders?"
You were unaware of the customs of the people of Oros, but in the rest of the world, Noélie was undoubtedly invading your personal space. She was looking at you closely, with a pair of round eyes and extremely attractive, full lips parted. You couldn't help but take a quick and sneaky look at her more than generous bust.
"I-I..."
"Would you accept a drink for us in a more... private place, Monsieur Duplantier?" Céliane asked.
"I-I already told you that I have no power over my family's business."
“No need,” Noélie said, and drank the rest of her wine, staring at you. "Not for the initial phases, at least. But don't worry, our kind is quite... patient."
"Ah, of course... well, I would love to attend to you, but I have other pending matters. It will have to be for another..."
“Stop lying, please,” Céliane said, standing in front of you, hands clasped in front of her, her posture straight. "You have no business to attend to other than to keep running from corner to corner away from people. Instead, what I offer you is a private place where, instead of having to put up with hundreds of people, you will only have to put up with two. Don't you think that's a lot better?"
"Besides, you just have to listen to us," Noélie added. "I'd say it's in your best interest to do so."
You looked at them both briefly in the eyes. Damn, they were right: what better opportunity were you going to have to have a break, at least in the company of two strangers? Besides, it wasn't going to do you any harm to lend your ears for a little while, no more than what you suffered in there.
Right?
"Alright," you sighed. "But make it quick, please."
Céliane smiled without showing her teeth.
"Don't worry, we won't be a bother to your precious time, Monsieur," she assured.
"Not as long as you're cooperative," Noélie added, more quietly, her breath smelling of wine and... something else you couldn't make out, before standing alongside Céliane, who didn't seem to have heard her.
You just blinked, thinking you had heard wrong. Had she... had she threatened you?
"Follow us, please."
Céliane turned around and walked into the room, closely followed by Noélie and, five feet behind, by you.
As expected, a good number of glances turned to you and the women you followed. You could almost hear what they were whispering to each other. "That's not Monsieur Pascal's heir, following two attractive women going who knows where? In the middle of the gala? Scandalous! What will his father think of him?"
But of course, you didn't care about all that. If there was a clear motivation for you at the time it was to get away from public scrutiny, and your father was the least of your worries; he, in fact, would surely be proud, according to his twisted and perverted way of thinking regarding business. He would have gladly wanted to be in your position.
Céliane and Noélie guided you out of the salon, and subsequently out of the Salons Napoléoniens. You walked through the wide and extensive corridors of the palace, leaving behind some curious guests who turned to look at you when you passed by them, as if to say: "Wasn't that...?" Yes, yes you were. It was strange even for you and your usual behaviors, let alone for others.
You ended up going down to the second floor of the palace, by then less crowded. As you turned a corner, you watched with a frown as one of the doors ahead was guarded on either side by two armed men. But not armed with guns or rifles or batons, armed with...
"T-those are halberds?" you asked as the two women approached said door.
"Oh, yes. Made of an alloy of steel and tungsten carbide," Céliane responded with disinterest.
"But why...?"
The guards, both dressed in charcoal-colored, military-style, long-draped frock coats, with side zippers and open at the bottom to reveal a pair of tall black boots and silk pants, stepped aside as Céliane and Noélie stood in front of them. They were both tall, with broad shoulders. They wore dark iron helmets, with a spiked crest and outward-curving side fins. And their faces remained hidden behind ominous masks that obscured their eyes, making them look like two empty sockets.
"Customs of our nation, Monsieur Duplantier," Céliane said with her back to you, hands on the handles of the double doors. "Please don't dwell on it."
The pale woman opened the doors wide, entering a small living room with six sofas, five of them single, arranged around a glass coffee table, covered in silk damask fabric, decorated with fringe trimmings and with an elegant tufted finish. All this outlined on a wool rug, with a classic floral design in pastel tones.
Noélie passed Céliane and went to the right of the room, where a quiet fire crackled inside a fireplace, surmounted by a tall gold-framed mirror. The guards closed the door behind you. Céliane turned to look at you.
"Take a seat, Monsieur Duplantier," she invited you, gesturing to the couches. At that moment Noélie returned from the fireplace, with a bottle of wine in hand and three crystal glasses. She put everything on the glass table.
"Uhm… thank you," you nodded.
You walked around the largest sofa and took a seat. Céliane did the same, placing herself in one of the singles to your left. Noélie sat opposite. Being there was undoubtedly more peaceful than at the gala, but it didn't mean that you weren't nervous. The two women couldn't stop looking at you, almost predatorily. They wanted something from you. Something they knew you could give them.
"Tell me, Monsieur Duplantier," said Céliane, uncorking the bottle of wine. "How much actual knowledge do you have about your father's business?"
You blinked. You weren't expecting that question.
"Well… not as much as you think I have. That's for sure," you said, hesitantly accepting the glass of wine that Céliane offered you. "I know, as do you, that we have control of almost the entire port and that there are a considerable number of construction and logistics companies that depend on us."
You waited for a response, but received only silence. It was patently obvious that it wasn't enough. With a sigh, you took a small sip of your wine and shook your head. You had to weigh your words very carefully so as not to screw things up. It would be all too easy to do so, and the consequences were worse than you could even contemplate.
"I’m not exactly privy to the details, ladies," you said, despite being actually quite well-informed. "I learn only what I’m permitted to know; I am well-versed in economics and other fields, certainly. I simply know that we handle a great deal of money, and a great many people."
"Wow, put that way, it sounds almost pristine," Céliane remarked with a chuckle, pouring wine for herself and Noélie.
You tightened your grip slightly on your glass.
"E-excusez-moi?"
Céliane set down the wine bottle and elegantly crossed her legs in her seat, glass held aloft. Her eyes turned back to you.
"Are you claiming, then, Monsieur Arno, that you possess no precise knowledge regarding how that money is generated, moved, and spent?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hm?"
"N-no, I do not have access to that information," you replied, shaking your head.
With a gesture that was both utterly calm and calculated, Céliane raised her glass to her lips and drained the entire contents in a single gulp. Noélie followed suit.
"Your father is a corrupt man, Arno," Céliane spat out coldly, examining the glass in her hand. "Corrupt to the very core. A scourge. An apple that went rotten long ago and now sits festering in a pile of filth."
Your heart skipped a beat. You swallowed hard, feeling an unpleasant chill run down your spine. You could neither refute her words nor feign offense, for it was the absolute, unvarnished truth. Pascal Duplantier was not a good man—of that much, at least, you were certain, despite how much he kept hidden from you. Thierry was, of course, the source of your knowledge.
"I—I... have to go. Please excuse me."
You made a move to stand up, but in the blink of an eye, someone seized you by the wrist and held you seated with tremendous force. Horrified, you turned to your right to see Noélie sitting beside you, a calm smile on her face. How the hell had she gotten there so fast? Were you so nervous that you hadn't even noticed when she stood up?
"You don't have to lie to us, Arno," said Céliane, refilling her wine glass. "It is pointless for you to pretend to respect him."
Noélie, right up against your right side, leaned against you, your arm nestled between her large, round breasts as if by pure accident. You avoided her gaze at all costs.
"With us, you can stop pretending, Arno," she said, her voice honeyed and slightly husky. "We know that you aren't like him."
"You don't know me..." you muttered under your breath, trying to sound calm. You hadn't even attempted to stand up again, though you knew you wouldn't have been able to anyway.
"Oh, well, I wouldn't be so sure," Céliane replied, swirling the wine in her glass. "I think we know you all too well. You really don't want to know how well."
"For God's sake... what do you want? You're cops, aren't you? A-Are you going to hurt me...?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.
Noélie let out a dry laugh.
"Don't be ridiculous, Arno," she said. "First of all, no. We aren't cops. And if we wanted to hurt you, you’d already be floating face-down off some deserted coast in Greece."
Céliane let out a sigh, set her glass down on the table, and leaned forward.
"Don't be foolish, Noélie; you're scaring him," the pale woman said in a low voice, though her eyes gleamed with undiminished intensity. "Listen, Arno. What we want is to offer you a way out. A way to ensure your prestigious family name is no longer sullied by Pascal's activities."
"I'm certain you aren't doing this out of charity. P-please, get to the point. And... can you let go of me, please? My wrist hurts."
Noélie released her grip. Your muscles ached slightly where she had held you. Just how strong was that woman? She remained close to you, however. Her breath warm against your neck. She had your nerves completely on edge.
"We want Trans-Marseille Solutions," Céliane finally stated. "It controls the docking rights and the heavy-cargo warehouses."
Céliane uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way. The movement—perhaps intentionally on her part—afforded you a fleeting glimpse of her shapely thighs and what appeared to be a pair of wine-red lace panties. You blushed and averted your gaze.
"As you well know, that is the company your esteemed father uses for his dirty dealings," she continued. "If, for any reason, that structure collapses, it will drag Duplantier & Fils, and you, as an accomplice, down with it. In short, Monsieur Arno, we want that subsidiary to become an asset managed by Dumonra Holdings. We provide international legal cover and security, and you... well, you get the noose off your neck."
Noélie seized upon your silence to rest her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, a reminder that you remained trapped between her and the sofa.
"Think about it, Arno," she whispered. "All you have to do is give us the name of the front man running that company on your father's behalf. We can force Pascal into an early and safe retirement."
"S-so you’re acting like you know so much, yet you don't even know his name?" you asked, staring down at the rug.
Céliane let out a nasal laugh.
"We know who appears in the official records, Arno. We know that perfectly well," she said. "But at this level, the official name is usually just some poor wretch who was paid to sign on the dotted line. We want the name of the man who truly holds the power. The one your father visits in private." Céliane moistened her lips, letting her gaze drift down to yours for a fleeting moment. "All we need is a name."
Shit. What the hell had you gotten yourself into? You blamed it squarely on your damn inability to say no; had you done so, they wouldn't have dragged you off alone in the first place. Now you were neck-deep in shit.
"I—I... I'm n-not sure..." you began to say.
Noélie slid her hand down from your shoulder, tracing a torturously slow path across your chest until it came to rest just above your heart, which was pounding like a war drum.
"Don't be so suspicious, Arno," Noélie murmured close to your ear, her lips brushing against your lobe. "We wouldn't ask you for something so valuable if we weren't prepared to pay you back in kind."
With a completely deliberate motion, Noélie shifted subtly, pressing her side more firmly against yours. You felt the firm pressure of her thigh against yours as she leaned in. You pursed your lips and let out a deep exhale, making her smile at your reaction.
"Imagine," Noélie continued, her voice growing huskier and more sensual. "Waking up tomorrow knowing you are no longer an accomplice to a criminal who forces you to do his bidding. To be the clean, unblemished face of the Duplantier family. You would have autonomy, respect, and above all..." Noélie lowered her hand and placed it on your thigh. "Our most intimate gratitude."
Céliane rose to her feet with a terrifyingly slow deliberation and walked until she stood directly in front of you. She leaned forward, resting one hand on the back of the sofa, just above your head.
"Give us the name, Arno," Céliane commanded, her face mere inches from yours. "You will be generously rewarded."
"But..."
Noélie’s fingers began to slowly inch their way up the fabric of your trousers, seeking the outline of your cock, which was growing harder with every passing second. You let out a sharp gasp when she finally closed her hand around your bulge, with a firmness that made you arch your hips slightly.
"Come on, relax, Arno..." Noélie murmured. "You’re too tense."
Noélie unbuckled your belt with practiced ease. Then, with a couple of precise movements, she lowered your zipper and slid her hand inside your boxers to make direct contact with your erection. You shuddered; her skin was cold. Her fingers wrapped around your shaft and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Mmm... you’re big," Noélie said. "That’s exactly why I love shy guys."
"The name, Monsieur Arno," Céliane insisted once more, as if you hadn't heard her the first time. She raised her other hand and caressed your cheek with a pointed fingernail. "Don’t you want us?"
Noélie gave you another squeeze and rubbed the palm of her hand up and down the length of your cock, reaching your balls as well. You were paralyzed, as if caught in an uncomfortable limbo. On one hand, you wanted to stand up and flee, to avoid, at all costs, putting your family's safety at risk. On the other, the voice of your conscience whispered in your ear that this was the right thing to do. That perhaps you—the Duplantiers—were better off without your father and his dirty dealings. It was a possibility that had been lurking in the back of your mind.
And on a third hand—a more immediate, carnal one—you really wanted these women to fuck you. It had been far too long, a couple of years, perhaps, since you’d been intimate with anyone. At this point, you were certain you wouldn't find a better opportunity to end your dry spell.
But of course, apparently that was entirely on you.
"Y-You guys are going to get me into a hell of a mess..." you wheezed, trying to clear your thoughts.
"Nonsense, nothing of the sort," Céliane assured you. "Our intelligence services are more than capable enough to ensure your stability from day one."
Noélie, oblivious to your conversation and perhaps a little impatient, tugged your trousers and boxers down to mid-thigh, thereby freeing your erect, throbbing cock. She wrapped her fingers around it and began stroking it up and down. Céliane herself moved her hand away from your face and down to your balls, caressing them with her fingernails.
"T-Thierry... my butler..." you began to say.
"The old man is more pristine than a newly opened public square," Céliane interjected. "He won't be affected."
That, at least, was a relief. But could you really be sure of it? You didn't know these women. They weren't even American, or European. They were Asian, but yet not quite. They hailed from a hermetic, technologically advanced city-state, one that had only recently begun to surface in the public consciousness. Could you really trust them?
Noélie and Céliane continued with their ministrations, so you opted for silence for the moment.
Your cock throbbed within Noélie's hand, which moved with a steady yet relentless rhythm—each stroke chipping away a little piece of your willpower. Céliane gave your balls a gentle squeeze, then spat into her hand and brought it up to your tip, rubbing her palm in circles around your glans while Noélie worked the shaft.
The moan that escaped your lips made them both smile. Noélie pressed herself against your arm, her round breasts brushing against you on either side. Céliane, meanwhile, propped one foot up on the sofa beside your hip, giving you another glimpse of her panties, which, only from this distance, did you realize were semi-transparent. Beneath them, you caught a glimpse of a pretty, hairless pussy.
Together, they redoubled their efforts. Both hands moved up and down your hard, slick cock with fluid, coordinated wrist movements. It was overwhelming. And to make matters worse, Noélie began letting out soft little moans right into your ear. Sweet, lovely, sensual moans.
You were close. Very close. You felt it at the base of your spine, in the rush of blood to your crotch. Both women noticed and quickened their wrist movements.
But just as you let out a hoarse gasp and rolled your eyes back, on the verge of exploding, they both stopped dead in their tracks. They withdrew their hands completely, leaving you with an unbearable emptiness. The desperation you felt was something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.
"Ah-ah..." Céliane chided, tilting her head with a cruel smile. "We haven't heard a name yet, petit Arno. You wouldn't want to stay like this, would you? I imagine it must be a... frustrating sensation."
Noélie licked her lips, reveling in the look of disarray on your face.
"Come on, I know you want to," Noélie purred, bringing her hand close again, though not quite touching you, merely grazing your skin with her fingertips.
"P-Please... please!" you begged.
"The name comes first," Céliane said sternly. You remained silent for several long seconds, prompting Céliane to take a step back. "Bah, it's no use. Let's go, Noélie; he's not going to..."
A sudden surge of alarm made you grab her wrist tightly and finally give in.
"Adrient Boyer!" you blurted out, your breathing ragged.
Great. You had officially become a snitch.
Céliane glanced down at your hand, which was still clamped around her wrist. You blushed and let go.
"Adrient Boyer, you say?" she asked. "And why should we believe you?"
"I—I swear it!" you nodded. "Adrient Boyer. My father always calls him before heading to the docks."
Céliane exchanged a glance with Noélie and offered a faint smile, apparently satisfied with the answer. She returned to her spot in front of you, this time resting a knee on the sofa right beside your left hip, forcing you to stare up close at her lace-clad crotch.
"Boyer... the accountant who supposedly retired two years ago," Céliane murmured. "Quite clever of Pascal, I must say."
Noélie, seeing that you had kept your end of the bargain, closed her hand around your cock once more. She cast all subtlety aside; now the friction was constant, frenetic. Her wrist moved with expert precision. You moaned instantly.
"Good boy, Arno," Noélie whispered close to your ear, using her thumb to rub your own precum around your glans. "We Dumonras always keep our promises."
Céliane didn't lag behind, bringing her hand back to your crotch as well. While Noélie tended to the shaft and the tip, Céliane wrapped her fingers around the base, squeezing firmly. Her other hand came into play, too; her fingernails toyed with your balls.
"Just so you know, this is only part of the payment for your honesty, petit Arno," Céliane murmured, her voice deepening. "But you have to earn the rest."
The two of them synchronized once again. Their hands rose and fell in unison. The sensation was chaotic and overwhelming, leaving you paralyzed with pleasure, your hips tensed against the sofa. Noélie buried her face in your neck, letting her hot breath wash over your skin as she moaned your name softly.
"Tell us something else, Arno," Céliane whispered, bringing her face dangerously close to yours, so close that your noses brushed. "Where does your father usually meet with Boyer? What place does he tend to frequent after his trips to the docks?"
The pleasure was so overwhelming that you had to mentally repeat the question to yourself several times. Location. You knew the location. You weren't entirely sure if Boyer attended regularly, but it was the place where your father usually went to meet up with his cronies. You would have been reluctant to share that information, but your brain was being so deliciously melted that it slipped past your mental filters effortlessly.
"C-Cassis!" you panted, your eyes squeezed shut. "A villa near Pointe des Lombards!"
Noélie picked up the pace, and Céliane began to rotate her hand with a technique that made you curl your toes inside your shoes and arch your back. This time, thank God, they didn't stop. You felt your climax drawing dangerously near: an uncontrollable torrent of fire surging up through your urethra.
"That's it..." Céliane smiled, watching with fascination as your body went rigid. "Let it all go, Arno. Be ours. Cum... cum for us."
"Cum, Arno," Noélie moaned into your ear in turn.
With a loud groan, you climaxed so violently that you were left breathless, profusely coating both women's hands, and your own abdomen, with the thick jets of semen spurting from the tip of your cock. Noélie let out a soft chuckle, feeling your intense throbbing against her hand, while Céliane wiped away a drop that had splashed onto her cheek with her finger. She glanced at it for a second, then brought her finger to her mouth.
You lay there panting, your heart racing a mile a minute. Noélie gave you a couple more gentle strokes, milking every last drop out of you.
Céliane leaned further over you, letting a lock of her hair brush against your forehead.
"Cassis. Good," she approved. "You’ve been very useful, petit Arno. But you could be even more so."
"Mmm, and I’ve barely even started having fun with you," Noélie panted.
Before you or Céliane could say another word, Noélie lay down on her side on the sofa, her torso resting across your thigh, and took you into her mouth, warm and wet, to clean up every drop of semen with slow, sensual sucks.
"Well, be grateful that my partner here is a bit of a..." Céliane raised an eyebrow at Noélie’s noisy slurps as she polished your cock with her tongue. "...slut."
Noélie lifted her head from your lap once she was finished, completing the task by giving your pubic area a long lick to gather the semen that had landed there as well.
"It’s not my fault that cum is just as delicious as a good dose of AB negative," Noélie said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
"Wait a second," you said, shaking your head, thinking you must have misheard. "AB... negative? Isn't that...?"
"Information, Monsieur Arno," Céliane cut you off quickly, shooting a withering glare at Noélie. "We need more information."
"B-but what else do you want from me?!" you asked, exasperated.
"I’m certain Boyer isn't the only one who frequents that place," Céliane leaned toward you, allowing her expensive perfume to fill your lungs. "In fact, I’m sure you’ve been there yourself, don't try to lie about it. So... who else have you seen there, petit Arno?"
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. You definitely weren't cut out for this shit. Maybe someone else would have been a tougher nut to crack, but not you.
"L-Lemaire..." you croaked out. "Jean-Pierre Lemaire. H-he's... a customs inspector, I think. Regional."
Céliane smiled slightly, satisfied, and took a step back to remove her blazer. She was left in her tight, sleeveless dress. Then she pulled down the top and rolled it up above her navel, revealing a lace bra the same color as her panties, with sheer straps. Next, she unzipped the side of the bottom. As she pulled it down, Céliane slid the rest of the dress down her legs, still wearing her strappy heels.
You were left breathless. Her body was, without fear of exaggeration, perfect: toned in all the right places and brimming with alluring curves. Toned sexy abs; wide hips; small waist, beautiful legs; and small yet round breasts.
"O-oh... wow," you murmured.
Noélie let out a soft giggle to your right and began to undress, first pulling down the top of her velvet dress. Her bra, also lace but black, barely contained her large, beautiful breasts. The bottom of the dress also fell to the floor, revealing panties that matched her bra.
Of course, Noélie wasn't far behind. Her legs were slightly thinner and larger than Céliane’s, less sculpted, but she carried a bit more flesh here and there, complete with a round, firm ass. Not that she really needed anything more, anyway; her breasts alone were enough to make your mouth water.
"Come on, touch me, Arno," Noélie encouraged you, kneeling down to your right with her hands resting on her own thighs. "You’ve earned it for being such a good boy."
You blinked.
"C-can I really...?"
"Don't make me say it twice."
Hesitantly, you raised a hand and closed it around her left breast, soft and yielding to the touch, squeezing it a couple of times until she let out a moan. Then, a few moments later, Noélie grasped the back of your head and buried your face deep in her cleavage. Instinctively, you began to kiss and lick every inch of her skin.
"Mmm, you like them, don't you?" Noélie asked, amused.
While she smothered you in her breasts, Céliane stepped closer and worked quickly on the upper half of your tuxedo—the very one Thierry had spent so long perfecting—until you were stripped naked from the waist up. Next, she turned her attention to your trousers, making you take off your shoes so she could slide them down and off your legs.
Being completely naked alongside those two women felt surreal, yet no less worthy of the hottest of fantasies. You were so aroused that your erection throbbed without anyone even touching it. You needed them like you needed damn air to breathe.
You felt Céliane move with a predatory elegance. She turned around, presenting her back to you, and slowly lowered herself onto your lap, sandwiching your shaft between her perfect buttocks. barely concealed beneath a layer of thin lace.
"You can touch me, too, petit Arno," Céliane purred, her voice low and heavy with lust, her hands resting on your knees as she began to move in a circular rhythm, rubbing your cock directly against her ass.
You brought your left hand straight to one of Céliane’s buttocks, sinking your fingers into her firm flesh with a tight squeeze that made her let out a low moan and intensify the friction against your cock. You panted against Noélie’s breasts, which were now thoroughly slicked with your saliva. If only she would...
"I see you're hungry, sweetheart," you heard Noélie say. "Let me help you."
As if the gates of heaven had opened just for you, Noélie reached a hand behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall into her lap. Her pair of breasts, with slightly dark, enticing nipples, were left exposed mere centimeters from your face. You immediately took one into your mouth, licking and sucking with a desperate need you made no attempt to hide.
It was fucking paradise; you were sure of it. You felt so ecstatic that you almost forgot you had only met them that very night, and that they were coaxing information out of you to help dethrone your father, all in exchange for sex.
However, just as you were slipping into a trance-like state, and perhaps to put on the brakes for both of their sakes, Céliane paused and glanced back at you over her shoulder. Noélie, in turn, placed a finger against your forehead and pushed you away from her breasts with barely any effort. Seriously, why the hell was she so strong?
Frustrated, you turned to look at Céliane.
"More names, petit Arno," she urged you. "You don't actually think that's enough for us, do you?"
"Merde..." you growled, shaking your head. You closed your eyes, trying to remember. "Uhm... uh... William Loughty. H-he's... he’s the owner of the shipping fleet that ferries goods back and forth between Italy and Monaco... I saw him once, around Christmas."
"What exactly does he import from Italy...?" Céliane ventured.
"U-uh, well... raw materials for the refineries in..."
"Don't be ridiculous, Arno; we already know that," Céliane cut you off.
"But I really don't know anything else!"
"In that case..."
Céliane made a move to stand up, and Noélie to step away.
"No! Please!" you hastened to squeal. "Fuck!" You shook your head and lowered your gaze. "O-once, I heard them talking about... well... cocaine paste. At least forty tons from Palermo and Syracuse."
"And...?" Céliane raised an eyebrow.
"And my father approved those imports," you stated, the words tumbling from your mouth like broken glass. It was a bitter feeling. Maybe your father was a son of a bitch, but he was your own flesh and blood. It didn't feel entirely right. "I don't know anything else about it. I swear to God!"
Céliane chuckled softly.
"Calm down, calm down; you don't have to get so worked up, sweetie," Céliane soothed you. "I believe you. You're a good boy."
Your cock throbbed beneath her ass.
"P-please... stop calling me that."
"Huh?" Céliane raised both eyebrows. "What, that you're a good boy?"
You squeezed one of her buttocks tighter, then rested your hand on her slender waist.
"Our petit Arno likes being told he's a good boy, huh?" Noélie giggled. "Why shouldn't we call you that? It is what you are, after all." She placed a hand on your chest and rubbed it in circles, her lips brushing against your neck. "A cute, good, obedient boy."
"For the love of God, this shit isn't fair..." you whispered, your voice barely a thread.
"Good boys get what they deserve. Don't they, Noélie?"
"I certainly think so."
Noélie waited for Céliane to stand up, then gave you a shove, making you lie down lengthwise along the sofa, lifting your right leg onto the seat while leaving the other one dangling. Then, without a word, Céliane glanced back at you over her shoulder as she grasped the waistband of her panties and slowly slid them down to her ankles, making sure to bend her knees so that, from your vantage point below, you had a perfect view of her wet, pristine pussy mere inches from your face.
"You're going to eat me out real good... aren't you, sweetie?" Céliane asked, clenching her buttocks and spreading them wide to reveal her pussy lips and her asshole.
You nodded rapidly, desperate. Céliane stifled a smile by biting her lower lip; then, bracing one hand against the backrest of the sofa, and still standing, she slowly lowered her ass until she was sitting directly on your face, her pussy pressed tight against your mouth.
You moaned against her tender, moist flesh. Your vision was obscured by soft, milky skin. Not much air was getting through, but that was the least of your worries. You placed a hand on her thigh and summoned every ounce of your skill at giving oral sex to women.
Fortunately, you were rewarded just seconds later by a genuine, sensual moan from Céliane.
"That's it, baby," Céliane murmured, shifting the full weight of her lower body onto your face as you licked between her delicious folds and around her clit. "Such a good boy... fuck."
At the other end of the sofa, you felt Noélie shifting around on your legs. You couldn't tell what she was doing, not until you felt a pair of soft, full, and fluffy pillows envelop your cock from either side, pinning it firmly between them. Then, after spitting a copious amount of saliva into her cleavage, she began moving up and down, giving you a titjob that made you moan against Céliane’s pussy.
The sensory feast was overwhelming yet marvelous. On one hand, you had the metallic, sweet taste of Céliane on your tongue; on the other, you had Noélie moving relentlessly up and down, giving you no respite as your cock slid between those two soft mounds.
It wasn't long before Céliane began letting out hoarse moans, growing louder with every breath. She had switched hands to brace herself against the backrest, allowing her to grab your hair and give it little tugs to press you even harder—if that were even possible—against her ass. Her thighs were trembling, too. And after a few seconds of sucking, licking, and hungry kisses against her pussy, she let out a stifled cry and exploded all over your face.
"Mmmgh, fuck!" Céliane whimpered, drenching your mouth and nose with her delicious climax, her thighs still quivering. "My good boy really knows how to eat pussy!"
Noélie stopped her ministrations not long after, releasing your cock from between her breasts.
"My turn," Noélie panted.
Céliane stood up without a word and swapped places with Noélie. You didn't even have time to react before Noélie climbed onto the sofa, straddled your collarbone, and leaned in just a little closer to push her panties aside and bury her pussy, sporting a small patch of pubic hair. right against your mouth.
"Mmm!" she moaned as you diligently devoured her pussy in return. "Delicious... fuck."
Céliane took Noélie's spot between your legs, but instead of using her breasts, she wrapped her lips around your cock. The contrast between the two was stark: Noélie reveled in naughtier, more playful, almost frenetic, movements, while Céliane’s suction was deep and sensual, applied with a strength that kept you hard and feeling good, yet without rushing you too quickly toward a climax.
Noélie rubbed herself against your nose and lips, twisting her hips with every minuscule flick of your tongue against her folds. Fortunately, your view remained unobstructed; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to admire her breasts from below as she squeezed them and toyed with her own nipples.
"You are really fuckin good, sweetie..." Noélie purred, gripping your head. "What's your blood type, by the way?"
Céliane hurriedly pulled away from your cock.
"Don't answer her," she said sharply. "Ignore her."
That was easy enough to do, as she immediately took you back into her mouth, and you were fully committed to continuing to devour Noélie.
After a few minutes of work, Noélie finally arched her back, grabbed you by the nape of the neck, and pressed you firmly against her pussy as she climaxed all over your face. Now you really were gasping for air, for the woman was thrashing violently, again and again, grinding herself against your face.
A few brief seconds later, Noélie climbed off you and lay back to your right, wedged between your body and the backrest of the sofa. Just then, Céliane pulled away from your cock, which she had left glistening with saliva. She looked you in the eye.
"You’ve been quite cooperative, Monsieur Arno," Céliane said, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "But we need the big fish. Those shipments require legal protection to cross the Mediterranean, someone to sign off on the sanitary inspection permits. Who is the rotten apple, sweetie?"
Noélie snuggled up against your right side, one of her breasts pressed flat against you, her thigh resting over yours. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, unable to believe just how insatiable that woman was.
Although, you put your mind to work. Such power lies only in the hands of a politician. You knew politicians by the dozen. None by choice, it was worth noting. But which one of so many? Your father had good relations with almost the entire French political landscape. Ministers, prosecutors, and senators frequented that summer home; you could even swear that, once upon a time, the President himself had come close to dining with Pascal.
But who, out of all of them...?
Of course. How could you not know? You had greeted him that very night when you arrived at the Palace. His face was still fresh in your memory.
You looked at Céliane.
"If I give you the name..."
"We’re yours," Noélie said. "For the rest of the night. You can cum inside me... or inside Céliane. Or wherever you want. But there will be no more limits, petit Arno."
No limits. Fuck. What would those women do with you if there were no limits? The possibilities were thrilling. Promising. You craved it. Remorse faded into the background. In its place remained only your lust.
"Clement Chevalier," you murmured under your breath.
Céliane and Noélie exchanged glances. Apparently, they hadn't expected that.
"The Prime Minister?" Céliane asked. "Are you sure?"
"M-my father made me speak with him when I first arrived..." You swallowed hard, staring up at the ceiling. "They... were talking about—I don't remember what—regarding tourism in Southern Italy, and Chevalier mentioned Loughty's fleet of ships. But I don't know anything else. I slipped away without them noticing."
Céliane took a moment to process the information, then nodded, perhaps as the pieces clicked into place in her mind.
"The Prime Minister," she repeated. "Wow... I don't know why I'm surprised."
"Good job, Arno," Noélie said from your right, leaning in to plant soft, wet kisses on your cheek. "You know what this means... don't you?"
Noélie cupped your chin in her fingers, tilting your face to look at her. Your eyes met first, then drifted down to her lips.
"We're going to split you right down the damn middle, pretty boy," she murmured against your lips. "Tell me something: do you just like being a bottom?"
"Uhm..." You nodded. "I prefer it, y-yes... but I can take the top role if you ask me to."
Noélie giggled, grinning from ear to ear. She was... fuck, she was charming.
"You're such a sweetheart! Très mignon!, très mignon!"
You didn't even have time to blink before she pressed her lips against yours. You had expected roughness. A lack of finesse. But Noélie was surprisingly gentle with you.
Of course, as the seconds passed, the atmosphere heated up, and you began to devour each other’s mouths, a fiery exchange of saliva and heavy breathing.
"Tsk, eyes over here, petit Arno," you heard Céliane say. "You’re going to want to see this."
You broke the kiss with Noélie to look at her. Céliane rose and climbed onto your lap, straddling you. First, she removed her bra, tossing it over the back of the sofa. Her breasts were small and perky. Next, she lifted her hips, grasped your cock, and, looking you right in the eye, slowly impaled herself upon it.
Céliane pursed her lips and stifled a moan, her eyes squeezed shut. Your cock pushed its way inside her walls, slowly, but surely. It was a delicious sensation: overwhelmingly tight, yet wonderfully warm. When she had taken you all the way to the hilt, you both moaned once more. You placed a hand on her waist and gave it a firm squeeze.
Céliane opened her eyes and looked at you.
"Look at me, petit Arno," she commanded in a low voice.
And so you did. Your gaze roamed over every inch of her perfect body, and...
"No, in the eyes," Céliane said, lifting your chin with a finger. Inevitably, your eyes met hers. "That’s better. Look at me while I show you a good time, my little obedient boy."
Céliane began to move atop your cock with such grace, such sensuality, that you couldn't help but reach out and caress her abdomen with your fingertips, almost as if you were worshipping such a woman. Making eye contact, which was damn hard to maintain, made you blush, as was only natural given those piercing eyes.
"Hey, why don't you give me a little touch?" Noélie asked, still pressed tight against your side, right into your ear. "Remember, tonight I'm all yours, treasure."
Not entirely sure what to do, you slipped your right arm behind Noélie's shoulders and reached down to give her ass a squeeze; then, you pushed her panties aside and rubbed your fingers against her pussy. Noélie moaned in satisfaction, bit her lip, and buried her face in your neck, showering it with kisses.
"Mmm... you like that, don't you?" Céliane, finding a rhythm with her hips, placed a hand on your stomach and slowly slid it upward until her fingers were close to your lips. She nudged two fingers inside your mouth, and you sucked on them both with a low moan. "Oh yeah, good boy."
Céliane pulled her fingers out of your mouth and leaned forward; just inches from your face, she moved in to give your lips a slow, upward lick with her agile tongue. You didn't mind in the slightest that her saliva was left glistening on your chin. Then, Céliane finally kissed you.
"Hey, I want that too, don't leave me out!" Noélie said.
Noélie joined the kiss as best she could. You and Céliane welcomed her in. Now the three of you were sharing saliva in a wild, sloppy battle of lips. Acting on pure instinct and letting yourself get swept up in the moment, you gave a firm squeeze to the ass of both Noélie and Céliane, though you only slipped a finger inside the former's pussy, making her moan right there in the middle of the kiss.
Céliane was the first to break away, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes, utterly ecstatic with pleasure.
"Fuck, who would have thought that the best cock I’d have in months would be yours?" she moaned, bouncing her ass against your shaft, her fingernails digging into your shoulders. "I didn't have high hopes for you."
"Uh... thanks?"
"You're welcome."
Céliane straightened up and planted her feet on the sofa on either side of your waist. With her hands resting on your abdomen, she began performing strong, deep squats onto your cock, moaning over and over until she climaxed. Her ass slammed against your pelvis one last time, and she threw her head back.
"Ohhh fuck!" Céliane shrieked, cumming all over your cock. Her knees dropped back down onto the sofa, and now she ground her hips back and forth, with you so deeply impaled inside that tight pussy that the tip of your cock was brushing against her cervix.
The intensity with which Céliane gripped you from the inside bordered on painful, but that only made you enjoy it more. Made you moan even louder.
Moments later, Céliane pulled away from atop you, and Noélie hurried to join her, both of them now kneeling between your legs. Noélie took your cock between her lips, swallowing it halfway down her throat. She sucked greedily for several long seconds, cleaning Céliane’s fluids off your shaft and replacing them with her own saliva. Céliane pitched in by kissing every spot Noélie couldn't reach, including your balls, which she sucked on gently.
After a few seconds, they both released your cock to look at you.
"We’d better move to the floor," said Céliane.
Both women got off the sofa and, working together, effortlessly moved the coffee table to one side of the room, near the fireplace that was still crackling and providing a pleasant warmth. Then, with the area between the sofas cleared, they knelt right in the center of the rug.
"Come here, pretty boy," purred Noélie.
You hurriedly stood up and positioned yourself right in front of them. Céliane was the first to take you into her mouth, once again showing off her talents, until she yielded her turn to Noélie. The two of them worked on your cock for a few delicious seconds, but they stopped when they noticed you tensing up too much.
"Hey, you know you’re not allowed to cum until we say so, right?" said Céliane, gripping your scrotum from the top, like a bag of oranges. "Don't get too excited."
"Uh... y-yeah, yeah," you nodded, not the least bit inclined to contradict her. "I won't."
"Really?" Céliane raised an eyebrow.
Before you could answer, Céliane squeezed your balls tighter. Noélie had a firm grip on the shaft. You moaned.
"I promise," you said in a strained whisper.
Noélie let out a soft giggle.
"Gooooooood boy."
With that, it was Noélie who resumed sucking you off, first swirling her tongue around your glans before taking you deep into her throat, where she held you for several long seconds before she began to pump her head. Céliane did the same. But nothing about it was quite as hot as watching them meet right at the tip of your cock, their tongues intertwining with each other with your member right in the middle.
You couldn't do anything but moan like a total slut.
"Mmm... well?" Noélie looked at you, rapidly rubbing your saliva-drenched cock. "How do you want me, sweetie?"
"On top of me."
Noélie bit her lower lip.
"Only if you fuck me afterward."
"H-how...?"
"Any way you want. Missionary, doggy style, standing up and bent over, one leg lifted, spooning..."
"I get it," you cut in. "Deal."
Noélie pounced on you the moment you lay down on the rug, lacking any of the elegance Céliane might have possessed, but making up for it with a predatory agility and energy that kept your pulse racing. She straddled you, while Céliane positioned herself behind your head and had you rest back against her lap.
Having finally shed her panties, Noélie lifted her hips and grasped your cock, slowly impaling herself upon it. You watched, panting, as her face contorted with pleasure while her hot, silky walls swallowed your length with delicious ease.
Once you were buried hilt-deep, Natty placed a hand on your abdomen and looked down at you with a seductive smile, beginning to move her hips up and down in a sensual rhythm.
"Does this warm little pussy feel good, sweetie?" she asked, slowly sliding her hand upward from your abdomen. You thought she was going to make you suck her fingers, just like Céliane had, but instead, she closed her fingers around your throat and squeezed, just enough to let only the bare minimum of air pass through. "Oops, too bad you can't answer anymore."
You moaned—or at least you tried to, though Noélie's grip on your throat remained firm. Céliane, for her part, grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the floor beside her calves, restricting your ability to touch Noélie’s voluptuous body as she bounced faster and faster atop you, her hypnotic breasts, the size of two perfect melons, jiggling lasciviously.
"Mmm, my good boy likes this, doesn't he?" Noélie asked, showing no signs of loosening her grip.
"He loves it, just look at his face," Céliane remarked, never taking her eyes off your flushed, contorted features. "What if...?"
Céliane tilted her head, studied you for a couple of seconds, and let loose a thick glob of spit directly onto your face, staining your lips, your chin, and the tip of your nose. You bucked your hips. Your cock throbbed deep inside Noélie, who let out a moan.
"Fuck! He loves that, too," Noélie moaned, now bouncing wildly on top of you. "Give him a slap!"
A quick, sharp slap landed on the right side of your face. You looked up to meet a sly, mischievous smile on Céliane’s face; she didn't hesitate to deliver another one to the opposite cheek. Once again, Noélie squealed with pleasure as you throbbed inside her.
"What a kinky little guy, fuck, I love it!" Noélie moaned. For a moment, she opened her eyes to look at her partner. "Can I keep him? Maybe..."
"No," Céliane said immediately, sharply. "We’d have to speak with Mr. Leumara, and..."
Céliane fell silent, realizing she was treading on ground that a puppet like you had no business knowing about. You weren't about to press the matter, and frankly, it wasn't as if you could have, anyway.
"God, you guys are so boring sometimes!" Noélie protested. "As if it would do him any harm to turn into a..."
"Noélie, enough!"
Noélie grinned from ear to ear, visibly aroused and amused in equal measure. Soon, her face twisted with pleasure once again.
"Fuuuuuck... I'm going to cum so hard!"
Those final words, followed by a lascivious shriek, gave way to Noélie's unbridled climax. The voluptuous woman writhed atop you, grinding against your cock amidst tremors, her pubic hair brushing against your skin with every forward thrust. She tightened her grip on your neck, and your air supply was suddenly cut off. You endured it gladly until, at last, she let you go.
Noélie half-opened her eyes, pupils dilated with lust, to look at you. Her mouth hung slightly open, panting.
"Your turn, petit Arno," Noélie purred, sliding off you.
Céliane released her grip on your wrists, allowing you to kneel behind Noélie as the latter settled onto her hands and knees spread wide, ass thrust high for you, and the side of her face pressed against the floor. Without a word, you grabbed your fluid-soaked cock and thrust back inside her.
You weren't averse to taking a dominant role, though it usually wasn't your first choice. Being the dominant one was, quite simply, something you were indifferent to. If the situation called for it, then you stepped up.
And this moment, certainly, demanded it. To have refused would have been sacrilege.
So there you were, gripping Noélie’s wide hips with both hands, delivering strong, deep thrusts into her warm pussy, her breasts bouncing beneath her, her ass jiggling with every impact. You panted heavily, doing everything in your power to maintain the rhythm and make her feel good.
Céliane stood up and positioned herself to your right; as if to balance the dynamic, she grabbed a handful of your hair and buried your face in her pussy.
Magnifique. Now you were really communicating.
The small room filled with the sound of both women’s moans, mingling with the relentless rhythm of your body slamming against Noélie’s. Céliane gave you no respite; she kept your face pressed firmly against her crotch, her fingers deeply entangled in your hair, her fingernails digging into your scalp, yet you devoured her without a single complaint.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Noélie moaned between thrusts. "The bastard actually knows how to use that cock! How am I not supposed to fall in love?"
"I worry about your definition of 'falling in love,' woman," you heard Céliane say amidst her own moans.
"Nonsense! I’m in love with my petit Arno and his wonderful, magical cock!"
The next few minutes passed in the blink of an eye. Noélie had another orgasm, one you felt particularly proud of. Céliane followed suit. One of them came all over your cock, leaving it dripping wet. The other one bathed your mouth and tongue with her delicious fluids as her climax washed over her.
Céliane then gave you a shove backward, making you lie flat on your back. She took her place atop you, turned her back to you, and planted her feet firmly on the floor to take you back inside her. She began to squat over your cock, her back perfectly arched in a display of unexpected flexibility, with her hands resting on your calves.
"I know what you're thinking..." she said, glancing back at you over her shoulder as she drove every inch of your shaft in and out with every squat. Noélie watched from just inches away, catching her breath. "My ass is perfect; I know. I also know you're dying to cum inside me while watching it. But I already told you: you’re not going to cum until I say so. You know that, right?"
"I—I know..." you murmured, almost breathless, as she stole the air right out of your lungs every time her ass slammed against your pelvis.
Céliane smiled.
"That’s a good boy."
Just when you thought she couldn't surprise you any further, she leaned back, grasped the nape of your neck, turned her head to meet yours, and kissed you with fierce intensity, right before she began pumping her hips furiously up and down. Beyond her flexibility, that woman possessed absurd lower-body strength; she showed not even a hint of fatigue, even after two intense, non-stop minutes of action.
Feeling yourself nearing the edge, you moaned right into the kiss. But that was a damn mistake, for she stopped immediately. You writhed wildly beneath her, but she simply held you fast, reveling in the desperation etched across your face.
"Beg me," was all she said.
You frowned.
"H-huh?"
"You heard me."
Céliane climbed off you and knelt at your right. She grabbed your cock and started jerking you off, her hand sliding frictionlessly along your slick shaft. You were close. Painfully close. But you squeezed your eyes shut and thought about literally any random nonsense just to hold it back.
"God... oh God!" you panted, your voice barely a whisper. "Please!"
"That’s not enough."
A nimble, mischievous mouth joined in. You opened your eyes to find Noélie sucking your balls while Céliane kept jerking you off with a killer grip and a deadly flick of her wrist. It felt so good, it felt like your brain was going to explode.
"You have to use the right words, petit Arno," Céliane said.
"T-the right words?!" you asked. "What the hell are the right words?!"
"I thought I made my command quite clear."
"Ugh, merde, merde!" you cried out, holding back the eruption like a son of a bitch. "I’m begging you, dammit! Please! I want to cum!!"
Céliane clicked her tongue.
"One word is missing."
"Dammit!!" you shouted, your voice hoarse. "I’m begging you, mommy. Let me cum! I need it so bad!"
"Yes! Cum then, my sweet boy!" Céliane moaned.
"Mmmghhh!!"
You arched your back and squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the tidal wave of sensations washing over you. Only then did you feel the tip of your cock being engulfed by something warm. You opened your eyes just in time to see Céliane still jerking you off, but now with Noélie positioned right over you, your entire glans buried deep inside her pussy.
"Fill me, mon chou," Noélie moaned. "Fill me!!"
You came so hard that your vision went black for a split second.
The orgasm hit you, shattered you, swallowed you whole, and spat you back out. Your entire body trembled as you throbbed around Céliane's hand and filled Noélie's pussy from the inside with a massive surge of thick cum. However, since you weren't fully buried inside her, a good portion of your load oozed down the sides of your shaft, staining Céliane's hand in the process.
"So warm..." Noélie panted, giving Céliane a little shove to push her aside so she could impale herself completely on your cock. "You know what? I think a little scolding from Mr. Leumara will be worth it."
For the first time that night, you saw Céliane’s composure finally crack, her eyes going wide with shock.
"Noélie, NO!"
Before you could even register what was happening, Noélie, with you still buried balls-deep inside her and throbbing, lunged forward and sank two sharp fangs into your neck.
You screamed at the top of your lungs. But that floor was deserted, save for the two foreign guards.
Tags/TW: angst and drama, edgy and unsettling, mentions and description of all the bad things, a cruel story in four acts, no smut, but mentions of sex, desire, depression and mostly suicide
Thanks for 9.090 followers!
(A/N: The worst way to return with sth unsexy that I had lying around. Make of it what you will - I had different plans for this, but I'm happy I got something done. This is fic no. 149. One more to go!)
“Finally!”
“Let’s get outta here.”
“I’m so hungry, God.”
“Jake, where is my—”
“Everyone, settle down! The bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do!”
A collective groan, some curses in the back of the class, someone drops his backpack. Oh, how cliche.
“Let’s just finish this final paragraph, okay?”
“Fine. I’ll read it.”
“Then we’ll have this shit over with.”
“No cursing in my classroom!”
Snickers from the girls to your right, quick, mindless reading to your left, someone drops a pen. Didn't this happen yesterday?
“Very well done. Class is over, have a nice weekend.”
“But Ma’am, it’s only Thursday.”
“Oh. My bad. Then we’ll see each other tomorrow.”
Two dozens of bags get lifted from the ground, books and paper crammed into tight spaces, someone drops their smartphone. Yes, definitely deja vu.
“Shit!”
“Well done, Yena. I bet it’s cracked now.”
The slow turn of a delicate hand. Hundreds of scratches make the glass look like a spider’s uncarefully spread web. Someone cracks a laugh. Am I dreaming?
“I told you. Now, now, don’t cry. I’ll get you some ice cream, hm~?
Yena’s sobs and Chaewon’s coos can still be heard down the hallway. You shake your head in disbelief. Of course, this exact scenario didn't happen yesterday. It is as close to impossible as winning the yearly lottery daily, but your feeling of deja vu remains. The days blend into one another, nothing significantly changes.
The setting? The same. No one is going to paint over the old, dirty walls of this school to give them a new color, new life. They remain as a seemingly immovable constant, just like the yellow lights at the ceiling or the barely cleaned windows separating the outside from the classroom and the classroom from the floor. Maybe the weather changes, but at this point you’re even uncertain of that. Gray clouds lay on the world, an impenetrable layer that reeks of rain.
The time? The same. Your school's schedule is its most stable factor. The principal enforcing it is as certain as taxes and death. If too many teachers are missing to fill in the gaps, he himself will step in to ensure the absolute maximum of education, even if it’s 5pm. Part of this tyrannical precision is the teacher’s right to extend a lesson past the bell’s ring. It is utterly ineffective, as no one actually listens anymore, but it will never change.
The characters? The same. Not a day goes by where mostly bubbly Yena isn’t whining about something, be it the grandest of issues or a lost hair. Her best friend Chaewon is always on her side. With her calm, kind words and envious patience she is the perfect Yin to Yena’s Yang. Then there is Eunbi, the class representative, with amazing grades, amazing visuals and eyes colder than the arctis. Sakura is everyone’s crush, a girl who adores video games, looks absolutely beautiful and is a social magnet. Sadly for all the boys, she only has eyes for girls.
You could go on and on about all the other colorful characters in your class, friends, enemies, classmates, but it all leads to the same hole. The hole of repetitiveness. Not only the lives around you seem to be in an endless loop— you play along perfectly. Your thought processes all wander off into similar directions, your banter with Jimin and Chan is always about the same topics, hell, even your yawns during Mrs. Bae’s classes are perfectly timed. Day in day out, you always stay to your routine.
Isn’t it time to break out? To stand up and instead of going home, go to a friend's house? Walk through the park for another hour? Run downtown to eat some fresh churros? Your desire to break out grows, but it cannot overcome your rationale telling you:
Why am I concerned about this? Everyday life looks similar at times. So what.
A shuffle. The sound of a chair scratching over the floor brings the battle ensuing in your mind to a screeching halt and you jump. Someone is still in the classroom with you. This is unusual. Usually, you are the last one to leave. You don’t need to take a train or bus to get home, it’s just a fifteen minute walk, so unlike your classmates, you don’t need to hurry to the awfully timed public transportation. Today, however, someone decided to break with the loop.
You turn your head to search for the culprit. In the last row, someone sleeps, their head on their crossed arms, chair pushed lightly back to make the position more comfortable. In your many years of school, you have seen a couple of students sleep like this, even during class. Mingi was one of them, but he transferred last year. Yoongi as well, but he got his act together and is almost on par with Eunbi in terms of grades.
You are sure it’s her when you see chestnut-colored hair dripping down on all sides of her head. Kim Minju, the quietest person in the class. It’s been years since you heard her speak a word louder than a whisper. She is always reserved, unapproachable and frankly, you sometimes forget she is still in the same class as you. She is a fitting last remaining option for someone sleeping at their desk.
“Hey,” you speak into the room, waiting for Minju to react. She does, by lifting her head up from the scratched surface of her table. Her eyes, slightly hidden by hair all over her face, dart around the room until they find you.
“Hey,” she says in a sleepy voice. You can’t help but smile. Minju looks somewhat adorable and helpless like this. Although most of her expression is behind curtains of brown locks, she looks like a lost child searching for her parents in a crowded theme park.
“Are you okay? Don’t you want to go home?”
“Later.”
“Later? But class is already over.”
“You’re still here too.”
You chuckle a little. Her voice sounds like she is still in dreamland and her head is unable to be upright. She lays on her arms once more. She is odd and you can’t help but be intrigued by it. Carefully, you stand up and take the seat next to her. Minju looks at you with surprise in her damp eyes. You wish you could read them better as she hasn’t shown signs of being talkative.
“This must not be comfortable. I’d choose a bed over this any day.”
“It’s fine.”
You sigh as Minju turns her face away from you. This has been fun while it lasted, but she is frustrating to talk to. If she’d resent you, she would have already told you to piss off, but with this not being the case you feel like you’re just annoying her.
“Your choice. I’ll go now though.”
“Okay.”
“See you tomorrow!”
No further words from her. Minju is clearly not mentally in this place. Is this the fate of those who only dream and don’t listen in class, you ask yourself while stepping out of the room. If so, she needs to be pulled out of it quickly. Somehow.
#
Today is not going to be the same. This sentiment has been stuck in your mind ever since you woke up. However, you haven’t really acted like it. Your alarm went off the same minute it always does, you listen to the same three songs while chewing on your favorite cereal and watching the same show. Teeth brushing and time to sprint to school have remained at their bare minimum, hell, the list could go on and on. Your sentiment has just been a faint thought. Until you step into the classroom.
“And then, and then he didn’t respond.”
“Aw, I think it will be fine. You wrote him so late, he probably just fell asleep.”
“Everyone, please stay calm! The teacher is coming.”
Yena is whining about something, some boy from the grade above or below. Again. Chaewon is comforting her with the patience of all the angels in all the heavens. Again. Eunbi is urging everyone to sit down with pronounced gestures and a loud voice. Again. It’s like you’ve heard these exact sentences before. This is beyond absurd and you have to do something. You will do something.
Before Mrs. Kang starts the lesson, you take a longer route to your desk. With full intention, you pass by Minju’s desk and knock on it twice. Like yesterday, her messy head lifts from her arms and you try to find her eyes through the veil of her greasy hair.
Doing something absurd like this has left you without a plan, without any words to speak, so you just put on a dumb smile. Minju doesn’t return it. She simply flops back onto her arms. It’s like reality is forcing everyone into their positions and if you don’t fight back, it might just get you as well. You sit down on your chair and look at the unamused girl as the first couple of lines are drawn onto the board.
The lesson comes and goes like a soft wind. As soon as Mrs. Kang wraps it up, you have already forgotten everything she said. Your mind is solely stuck on how to get this terrible loop of everyday life out of your system. For some reason, you feel that the answer is with Minju, this one girl you never had anything to do with. She looks like the epitome, the greatest victim of the problem. It's time you do something for real, with a proper plan.
“Hey,” you approach her again, as the rest of your classmates fall into their usual, loud chaos.
“Hey,” Minju responds. It scares you how she has the same tone as yesterday. Maybe she hasn’t had enough sleep and rushes to school just for attendance. Her hair has also not been washed, it’s even dirtier and messier now. She kind of reminds you of a lone wolf, abandoned by everyone.
“Uhm, I don’t know how to say this and maybe I’ll sound stupid, but—”
You grab yourself a chair and sit down in front of Minju’s table. Finally, she is bestowing you with a look over her folded arms.
“—I noticed, like, how do I put it, everything is so repetitive and bland, it’s really bugging me.”
“You think so?” she whispers dryly.
“Of course! Everyone is saying the same stuff, does the same stuff, like—just look at Yena! She is always whining. And Jimin is always teasing Jun. And you’re always sleeping. I’m sorry, it’s just bothering me.”
You end your small tantrum with a sigh and hope that none of the mentioned took notice of it. It felt good letting off this steam, you were really pent up until now. However, you doubt that it was the right way to start a conversation with someone who is basically a stranger.
To your surprise, Minju starts to sit upright and plug some of her long strands behind her cute ear. Her eyes scrutinize you while her face remains blank, unamused. Then she bluntly speaks, almost at a normal volume:
“Uh-huh, and why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want to do something I have surely never done. Something that will end this vicious circle at least for a day, maybe two.”
“You can do that on your own. Why do you need me for that?”
“W-well, I think maybe it could be something interesting for you too.”
Minju still doesn’t look convinced. Who could blame her? The way you come out of nowhere and act like a slightly crazy person wouldn't convince most people to take action. In panic you stare at the ground to your left, to your right, trying to find some words to explain yourself, before—
“Hmph, you are weird. Would it be enough if we met on the weekend?”
You look at Minju in surprise. Did she just suggest that? The whisper, the calm, dry voice with not too much enthusiasm couldn’t be anyone else.
“I think we never saw each other on a non-school day, so why don’t we just meet at the gate?”
“I knew you would understand me!” you shout triumphantly and almost jump from your chair, “We can meet at the gate and see where the day leads us. You okay with that, Minju-ah?”
Minju nods slowly and a faint smile appears on her adorable cheeks. You find it amazing how she still looks so pretty, even with her lack of make-up and wild hair. She could look superbly stunning with just a bit more care put towards her face, hair and body. But you won’t judge her on that. Maybe she just had a bad day. Maybe she never cared about stuff like this in general.
“Great, then we’ll see each other the day after tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
#
Tap. Tap. Tap. The tip of your blue and gray shoes hit the paved ground in front of the closed gate. After all these years, it’s the first time you notice how smooth the black rocks beneath you are. All the footwear scratching over them for all those years polished them to the point where faint sunlight gets reflected.
It’s been quite a while since you woke up this excited. Your alarm went off at nine and with an unbridled excitement and unwarranted, but great expectation, you filled your backpack. Water, snacks, spare clothes, small games, more snacks—it’s like you prepared for a children's birthday party, sleepover included.
And like a child you stormed out of the house, early enough to not annoy your parents and take a very different route. You wandered through small alleyes, the smell of rain still oozing from the gray asphalt and beige walls. Although you enjoyed it, you wished for the sun to come out—rain, rain, go away—you are literally a child and for today, that is okay.
Your wish came true. The light gray of the clouds was no match for the sun and small patches of sky blue pop up with every minute you wait. Now, it’s only Minju who is missing. The catalyst for why you finally got over the hump and out of the lulling everyday life. She’ll be here any minute. She’s never been late for school, something she obviously isn’t very fond of, so she won’t be late for this either.
But why her? Why did it take her for you to do something like this? There is a weekend for your taking every five school days. You could’ve just ran out or called a friend and do anything but mold in your room for endless hours. It might be the thrill of something absurd, new, unnecessary but necessary. Your questions come to a halt when you hear footsteps.
You look up to see all the perfect variations of brown. Minju wears a wool dress with a stylish checkered pattern in various dirty colors, orange, green but mainly brown. Underneath the dress, a tight, cozy looking turtle neck wraps around her torso and arms in the color of chocolate chip cookies. Across her chest is the leather sling of her almost black handbag. Above all however, is the brown of her hair. Not greasy and unwashed as the days before, but smooth and combed, tugged behind her ear it hides her shoulders. Brunette excellence that delights your heart.
She stops before you. With an awkward sway, she avoids looking at you. The way her lips press together looks adorable, you can’t help but smile and disrupt the silence.
“Hello, Minju! So awesome that you could make it.”
“He-hey,” she waves at you instead of keeping eye contact for long. This seems to not be her cup of tea, but you won’t let your mood get dampened. She will hopefully get into it.
“I had a lot of ideas of what we could do,” you begin and straighten your back. Even like this, you aren’t that much taller than the girl wearing her, of course, brown shoes, “But first, I wanted to know what you think. What are you feeling today?”
“What I feel?”
Her eyes force your attention on them. Now that you can look into them mostly undisrupted with better lighting than in the classroom, you see a certain dullness, listlessness, even lifelessness in them. It takes you out of your childish dreams, the naivete that builds up. You take a step closer towards her. She tenses up.
“I-I just mean, what you felt like doing today. If you’re not feeling well or anything, that’s fine. A-are you—”
“No, no, it’s okay.”
She laughs it off with a wave of her soft hands and takes a step back. You can feel that something is off. Maybe you got her on a bad day. Or maybe even in a bad time, judging from how she looked throughout the week. It’s not the perfect day to make her jump over some mental barriers. Or maybe, this is the perfect day after all. The day to wake up, to get life back into your veins, to feel it again.
You smile at her and scratch the back of your head.
“Okay then. Do you have anything in mind? Your dress looks unfit for a round of rugby, so I guess…”
“Wait, what?” Minju furrows her eyebrows, but then falls into laughter when she sees your playful smirk, “Oh, for a second I thought!”
You see her laughing face for just a split second before she hides it behind her hand. It’s cute, heartwarming even and you instinctively join her. In this moment, where all tension is lost in a simple joke, you forget that this is the first time you heard Minju laugh. In your presence, she’s never been this loud and bright before.
It’s like the clouds open just a tad bit more—the same way your relationship might open up a bit more on this simple day.
“I can’t believe you thought that, Minju-ah. How should I fit a rugby ball and a dozen other players in this backpack?” you playfully mock her and she gets shy, while still giggling.
“I dunno, I’m sorry. That was just dumb.”
“Nuh-uh, you’re fun. I might not have a ball inside here, but I have this.”
You open up one of the many zippers and pull out two candy bars. The see-through plastic holds sweet caramel and toffee wrapped in chocolate. Sweetness wrapped in brown goodness—just like Minju, but you won’t make that joke. This is not a date with flirts but a rebellion against dullness. You hand one of the bars to Minju. Her eyes light up.
“What? I love those! How did you know?”
“I guess I’m good at guessing, I guess.”
“Ts, you sound like a child,” Minju mockingly replies, but opens the plastic wrap with child-like anticipation and urgency. You chuckle and observe how this sleepy head became lifely with just some candy.
“I’m okay with being a child. We can go to the playground if you want.”
You take the first steps downtown and Minju follows you, her full mouth protesting your decision.
“No, stop. I, yum, made up my mind.”
“You always speak with your mouth full?”
“N-no. Shush, let’s go grab something. I want, hm, a smoothie. Or ice cream.”
You smile that she finally found something, but you can’t stop teasing the cutie that finally caught up to you.
“And then we go to the playground?”
A hit on your shoulder.
“Yah! I’ll make up my mind, pabo.”
#
“Oh man, that was something,” you sigh, taking off the 3D-glasses. From smoothies and ice cream, you somehow got out of her that she wanted to go watch a 3D-movie at the other part of town. It still took more convincing from you until she told you which movie it was. Although it’s certainly not your type of film, you still went with her.
“It was so good! When I thought I got all the clues, they still tricked me.”
Minju has her fingers cutely formed into a fist as you too walk out of the theater and onto the street. Although it’s not yet completely dark, you feel the evening coming and this fun day ending. As Minju still goes on about how intriguing the case was and how she thought the gardener was the murderer, you tap her shoulder.
“I still don’t get why this is a 3D-movie. Like, why? Why have these effects for a detective movie?”
“You’re a pabo. It’s to pick up on the clues better! Ts, I told you that.”
“Well, maybe I’m just too dumb for these movies,” you rub the back of your neck and watch the annoyed, but finally fully alive Minju become flustered. She pouts and pulls at your arm.
“I-I didn’t mean it like that. I hope you still liked it, I’m sorry.”
“Minju-ah, I’m playing around! Looks like you’re the pabo.”
It baffles you. How can this girl look even cuter, with this shocked, angry, playfully fun expression on her fairy-like features? You feel your heart filled with warmth. Your mind is freed at the sight of Minju and at the thought of how the two of you got out of this loop. Nothing is the same as before.
“It’s getting late,” you say and take a quick look at your phone to confirm the time, “Should I accompany you home? It might be dark before you get there.”
They fall. Minju’s bright eyes sink. The glow in them gets tainted by the dullness from before; but also pain. Pain that’s also in her weak smile that she can’t keep upright for long. Minju frowns and looks to the side, away from you. Suddenly, it’s all reset. Back to the beginning. You can’t let that happen.
“It’s of course fine if you want to go alone. O-or I could call your mum and…”
Minju fidgets, her delicate hand tightly wrapped around the leather of her handbag’s sling. She stares onto the tip of her feet. She looks cold, lost, like a forgotten child in the midst of an endless crowd of people. Things turn dark, not only because the clouds once again hide the sun, but also because Minju’s voice isn’t filled with excitement, but downright mourning.
“Mum, no. No, it’s okay. Thank you, but I’ll go home on my own.”
“Are you sure? Is there, is there some way I can help?”
“I think—”
Minju hesitates. Her fingers fiddle with her dress, then with each other, before she stuffs them into her pocket. She gives you an apologetic look, one that tries to convince you that there is nothing to hide and that things are just the way they are. Your heart tells you to not play along. There is something that’s really hurting her. So bad that it turns her back to the Minju, sleeping through life and all it has to offer. You have to lift the veil, you—
“—I should go on my own. It’s not that far, nothing will happen, hm.”
“Okay, uhm, was nice though.”
Your tongue betrays you. This is not what you want. It might be a smooth way to get out of the awkwardness, but it doesn’t get you closer to the problem. Something hurts her and you want to know it.
“Yeah, it was. Guess I’ll see you in school.”
The last chance, but you won’t take it. No reason to stir up conflict. The day was good, it got you two closer and things inevitably changed. Why risk it?
“Yeah. Have a great Sunday, Minju.”
“You too. Bye.”
She gets a hand out and gives a small wave. A small wave, a small smile, but it’s all rushed and it's painful to look at. The beauty wrapped in all the chocolate colors turns around and quickly steps out of your reach. The reach of your hands, of your eyes, of your voice.
“Bye.”
#
Sunday went by quickly as it always does and Monday greets you with the usual. Not the kind of usual you can always return to. The restaurant with your favorite vibe, the table in the hidden corner, the always comforting food. This 'usual' is what you're looking for, not the same old gray in the sky, same old cracks in the walls, same old chatter in the classroom. It's jarring.
It makes you appreciate your new friend more. Minju is not quite usual today. She doesn’t look gloomy, her silky, clean hair is crested with a cute, pink barrette and she greets you with a smile and a wave. The usually dark bags below her eyes are partially hidden by a simple, yet effective touch of make-up. Minju’s beauty shines through her imperfections and you find yourself slightly blushing at the sight.
“Hey,” you say with a small smile and carefully place your elbows on her desk.
“Hey,” Minju responds, backing off a tiny bit. She reaches for her notebook. It’s blue, mostly tattered and the pages are empty. ‘Oh no,’ she mouths, eyes still drawn to her bag below.
“Are you alright? Need something?”
“I… I think I forgot my pencil case,” she whispers shyly and tries to hide her face.
“Oh, I can give you one of mine.”
Hand her the pen and she bows thankfully. You both smile at each other a final time, before the teacher enters the room. You get ready to shuffle your chair back to your desk, but Minju’s soft voice makes you freeze in place. It’s like she opens the gate to new possibilities with just a couple of words.
“I hope, uhm, that you had a nice Sunday.”
“Th-thanks, Minju, I hope you did… too.”
#
Tuesday rolls around, and you couldn’t care less about the mundane things. You are excited to go to school, to meet Minju. You are excited about the brewing suspicions of your friends, which takes them out of their usual character a bit and makes the bickering interesting. With all this excitement, you swing open the door to the classroom. Everything, everyone is in order. Their eyes are on you as the door crashes against the wall with a loud boom. Your eyes are on Minju’s seat. It’s empty.
“Ey! Watch out!” Chaewon yells at you, as she tightly holds Yena’s hands. The duck-like girl quivers in fear. You must have scared her quite a lot. Tears pool in her eyes and you give her an apologetic bow.
“I’m sorry you two, I should have been more careful. Do you by any chance know where Minju is?”
Both girls shake their heads and Chaewon continues to glare at you, like she wants to stab you with a poison-filled syringe. Not that you would care. Minju not being here is a far greater concern to your mood. You fear that the day might immediately fall into the same rhythm, so you hold onto the hope that she is just late and will walk through the door at any moment. Maybe she will have the same enthusiasm as you did.
But it doesn’t happen. Not on Tuesday, not on Wednesday. The clouds do not part for two days. To say that it dampens your mood would be an understatement. Worry and annoyance have a hold on your thoughts, what teachers, parents, friends say is a nuisance and mostly forgotten. In some moments, it feels like a foul stench lingers around the campus. It gets even worse when, out of spite, you walk the same route you and Minju took a couple of days ago.
You get angry at every stop, but this anger is short-lived and when you stand in front of the cinema, it turns to sadness. The kind of sadness that twists your stomach and leaves you speechless at its intensity. If only you knew where Minju lives or what her phone number was. Those irrational worries that brew in your mind could just be gone. They range from her just being ill with a cold to something terrible has happened with her mother. You clearly remember how quickly all her joy and hype faded when you just mentioned the word ‘mum’.
Shake your head and head home. Tomorrow, Minju might just be back and if not, you’ll do everything in your power to confirm that she is alright. On Friday, you will ask her to meet again, and visit the park. You want to ask her a lot of questions and then, everything will solve itself.
#
You breathe a sigh of relief when Minju is in her seat early Thursday morning. Most of your classmates are probably still riding the bus or just waking up, depending on how they usually go about their day, so it’s just you two and Eunbi in the far corner. She studies geometry with her black headphones on. It basically feels like you're alone with Minju.
You cheerfully walk up to her, hand raised for a greeting. When you take a closer look at the girl however, you see her hair in a worse mess than ever before. It’s like someone took a pair of scissors and cut strands off at random spots. The hazelnut chaos spreads over her cheeks and what might look like bad bangs partially covers her eyes. Dark, tiny, motionless, except there is something flickering in them with unbridled ferocity. Minju’s pale skin is exceptionally pale against the large, black bags below her eyes. Her lips are dry and purple.
“Minju, are you alright?” you carefully ask and lower your hand. Your delighted mood is gone, dead, like the look on Minju’s face and her sorry posture. She looks frozen to the chair, only her knees shake as if she were in the arctic desert.
“I’m cold,” she answers, her voice tiny, dry. She coffs and you almost leap to help her. But you are not there yet. There is still no proper friendship where you can just cross the boundary and touch her.
“Can I help you with that? I can turn up the heater… or give you my jacket.”
You take off your jacket and Minju remains motionless. Her hands are in her lap, one resting on the other, the nails painted awfully messy. Her gaze mostly stays on them.
“No need, I’m just cold.”
Minju looks like she is falling, continuously, into an endless void. It’s darker than her eyes as they close and she starts to cry. However, there is no sob to hear or tears to catch. Minju just cries, in her own way and you feel powerless to step in. You can’t catch her, something is physically pulling you back. Your heart may mourn at the sight, but what is there to do, to say, to make things better?
“C-can I ask what happened? You looked so lively a couple of days ago, and now—”
Your heart spoke those words. They are like a scream to evoke some reaction out of her, but Minju doesn’t stop the sorrow overtaking her more and more. You groan in sad frustration. This sight hurts you, you can’t deal with it. You gently place your jacket on her desk and see her looking at it for a second.
“I’m sorry, I have no right to just—” You pause and ponder on a better choice of words, “I’ll be at my seat. If you need anything, I’m right there.”
Soon, all your other classmates stream into the room and take their usual positions. None of them seem to acknowledge Minju. For them, she is a figure in the background, one that might have changed a bit and even missed a couple of days, but they remain the same. Illness with two days absence plus a new ‘haircut’? Surely you wouldn’t notice it on a random classmate.
At the start of the first lesson, your very picky and meticulous math teacher immediately notices your jacket on Minju’s table. You know his eyes are locked in on it and he will call Minju out any second now. But then he hesitates, takes a closer look at the disheveled girl, and looks through the class register. His face contorts like he is in pain. This is very unlike him, and it would’ve intrigued you more if it weren’t for the gloomy feeling in your heart.
“Okay everyone, let’s start… start with, uhm. Chaewon, please tell the class what we did last lesson.”
The teacher continues to be out of sync with how he would normally act. At the end of the lesson, he calls Minju upfront. Now you’re the one frozen on the seat and watch helplessly as he calmly and concerningly speaks to her. You can’t hear him this far back, and the question is, if Minju is able to pick up any of it. She looks down at the tip of her shoes and does not react at all.
This goes on for the entire day. You can’t bear it anymore. With a final look over your shoulder, you dart out of the classroom quickly. The image in your brain is still the same: a helpless, frozen Minju, a withering girl with an unhearable cry. You notice the only difference a little bit too late, as it is barely noticeable.
Minju’s tender cheeks have the wet trails of tears.
#
Once again, Minju is not at school. This occurrence is so unusual, everyone is acting out of character. Different rumors shoot through the classroom, and they all negate each other. No one has a clue of what is happening, but they all do have an opinion. Chaeyoung in the last row says that she is probably just late, while Chan strongly believes that she is still sick and that the math teacher told her to stay home for longer. Julia has the harshest opinion though.
“I bet she is fully embracing her lazy life. She will either fail or drop out soon. That’s how it goes.”
You cover your ears. Everyone spouts nonsense, although they didn’t even talk to her yesterday. How can they be so sure? What do they know about her? Nothing. It frustrates you. The only people not involved in this except for you are Jimin, who stands by your side against these unnecessary allegations, and Chaewon and Yena. The two girls are entangled in a tight embrace and their heads are probably in a very different place right now.
Suddenly, the door bursts open. Your home room teacher and the principal walk in, both wearing a very serious expression on their faces. The rowdy class shuts up instantaneously. As if connected by one strand of nerves, everyone’s backs straighten. A gut wrenching tension fills the room, as the home room teacher sighs deeply and leans onto the front desk.
“I—this, this is hard. Excuse me, I need a second,” he says and stumbles a step forward. He is clearly not drunk, but his mind is dizzy with some heavy burden. The principal walks next to him and guides him towards a chair. Then he takes his glasses off, all fingers in a light tremble. You notice cold sweat all over his features. It’s contagious and creeps up your back.
“Class, I need you to stay strong, okay?” he begins and rubs the inside of his eyes, “I hate that I have to say this, but I hate even more that it happened. This morning, your classmate Kim Minju was—”
The principal pauses. It’s not long enough to make a large difference in his sentence, but it’s so big, you can hear the rapid pace of your heartbeat. It’s in your chest, your ear, your thumb. The burning red liquid rushes through your body. It meets the cold feeling of the goosebump and cold sweat on your skin, and this fusion almost makes you throw up. Your body gets torn to shreds, your mind is clouded. All in one pause that doesn’t really exist.
“—found dead in her home. She, she took her own life.”
In one moment, reality couldn’t be more surreal yet realistic. The stark contrast between a fragile dream and concrete reality resonates with everyone. It cannot be true, but it is. This is where they start with denial and move all the steps up to acceptance. But how can you accept the unacceptable? The voices of your classmates are background noise, but they are also all that is left. Air, matter, gravity, light, life, they all do not exist. Only the sound of gasps, cries and everything in between.
Then there is you, in pale freefall, just like the snowflakes outside. No one said it was going to snow today, yet it does. No one said Minju would kill herself today, yet she did. No one said deal with it, yet you do. You deal with it. Life goes on.
You throw your head forward and vomit over your desk. A lie knocks on your brain, on your stomach, and you vomit again. Sadly, you don’t have a reflex that will expel the disgusting shield of cold indifference out of your head. You know you will stop caring but you want to suffer. You want to hold on to Minju, the beautiful, quiet girl in class that was never supposed to walk down this dark aisle.
“You’re such an asshole at times, I swear to God.”
Yena giggles as her head rests on your shoulder. Her bare hand rubs over your sweaty, equally bare pecs. These muscles were forged in the nearby gym and Yena has them all to herself. It’s basically an equivalent exchange, because Yena is no slouch when it comes to taking care of her own body. Abs and a thin waist, they look the best when she’s fully nude. And nude she surely is. You’re each other's trophies.
“Am I?” you ask and blow out the smoke of your cigarette. You told her a story about something, something you don’t care to remember. What or whoever it might have been about probably lost and you won. Such is life. You carefully put an arm around Yena and look at the orange-gray glow of your cigarette. Your girlfriend pouts.
“Babe, be real with me for a second.”
“I’m real every second, Yena, I don’t ever lie.”
“Babe, I’m serious here!”
Yena turns to you. Her stern eyes pin you to the backboard of the bed. This is no time to joke. You hastily put the glowing stick in the ashtray and the two used condoms out of harm's way. Yena then puts her arm on your nape and you have a hard time not staring at her heaving bosom but instead at the duck-like lips that pout cutely.
“Do you really love me?” she asks quietly.
“Oh, I see how it is,” you respond with a relieved sigh. Poke both her cheeks as you usually do in these types of situations. Yena’s tension comes out through her nose like the air of a balloon.
“You are the hottest, prettiest, most desirable and most likable girl in the class—no, in the entire school.”
“Babe,” Yena blushes,”those were too many. You’re supposed to only list three things.”
“Huh? But what if I wanted to list more? Cuz it’s true.”
“Forget it,” she waves off, still blushing. ”Am I though? What about Yuri or Eunbi?”
“Okay, if you want me to list all of them,” you say, slightly annoyed, but you clear your throat regardless. ”Yuri is too crazy and not even close to your body, Eunbi is probably already married, also aloof, Sakura is gay, Hyewon is gay—”
“Wait, Hyewon likes girls?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. Seriously, the way she stares at Yuri all the time. Anyways, she is gay. Hitomi is not my type cause she’s too small, Chaewon is your best friend and not as pretty as you—”
“But she is so pretty!”
“Jeez, Yena, we’ll never finish it like this. Who did I forget?”
Both you and Yena ponder for a second, but if you’re quite honest, you do not want this argument to continue. You surely forgot a couple of girls in your class, but none of them can match Yena. She should know that, even if you don’t throw the L-word around a lot. When you do it, it’s only towards her.
“There is Minju,” Yena says in a moment of enlightenment.
“Who?” you respond. Don’t bother with the jarring task to remember who this might be.
“The quiet girl that sits in the middle of the classroom. With long, brown hair, it’s literally super long, I bet she never cuts and rarely washes it.”
“Oh I see. Yeah, no. Who the fuck cares about Minju?”
You turn to the side to cough. Yena’s face still doesn’t look amused so you do the one thing that will surely shut her up. Cup her cheeks in your strong hand and kiss her on the ducky lips. Add a simple “I love you”, and she relaxes. Her slender, naked body topples atop of yours. Finally, it’s time to go to sleep.
#
You wake up to the sound of a bell ringing. History class is over, and as per usual, you took a nice long nap at the end of it. Or throughout it. History has always been boring to you. Old guys did some things sometime in the past, wow, so impressive. It would only be a slight nuisance, but Yoongi and Eunbi always have to act smart about it. As if it actually mattered.
Can they touch the past, like you can touch Yena’s midriff right now? Surely not. The young woman squeals at your touch and you quickly pull her onto your lap. Thank God she cares as little about any dress codes as you. Even on these mild spring days she already wears clothes exposing, no, downright flexing her abs to your classmates. They see and they drool, but the only one allowed to touch them is you.
“You look sleepy, babe,” Yena says as she cups your face to inspect it.
“History, Yena, history,” you respond and force your tiny eyes wide open. Five more minutes until the next teacher arrives. Might as well enjoy the time by showing off your best trophy. Yena is better than the push-up and benchpress records, not only because she is great in bed, but also because she actually makes other people jealous.
Lift her onto your lap and give her a loud, proud and obvious hickey on her exposed neck. Yena holds onto your shoulders and holds her breath as if she would burst into moans and groans at any moment. After your deed is done, you triumphantly turn your head around. Scan the class, because someone is always looking. They can’t help themselves. Poor bastards.
“Look at her,” Yena whispers. She must be doing the same thing.
“Who?” you respond, unable to find the girl Yena alluded to.
“Minju, the one with the long, messy hair, right in the middle.”
There she is, barely three meters away from you, yet in a different realm of existence. Brown eyes lock onto yours, though you can’t make out what emotion they convey. Envy? Disgust? Pity? Well, the last two can easily be attributed to her. Minju’s entire look is appalling. Greasy hair that sticks together in clumps, dirty clothes that probably smell rancid, and an expression that lacks any kind of care or passion. Truly pitiful.
“What are you looking at, huh?” you bark at Minju. The entire class goes silent. They don’t have to hide their gazes anymore. They are only bystanders, witnesses to a tension that you know all too well. This is power, this is the way to victory. You will get your way.
Minju simply shakes her head. She rests her head on her crossed arms and goes back to her routine of dozing, as if nothing has happened. Her attitude of indifference is something you did not expect. You cannot allow such disrespectfulness.
“Get off,” you whisper to Yena, the anger in your voice not directed at her, but she still follows your command immediately. Slow strides bring you next to Minju’s desk, who senses your presence. She turns her sleepy head towards you and looks up, the same look in her dark orbs, darker than even the greasiest parts of her hair. You clear your throat in annoyance.
“I asked you a question, didn’t I?
“Care to answer it?”
Minju does not budge. She remains frozen below you, but it’s not in the way you want her to be frozen. She should be in fear, trembling, yet not moving at all, but your words, your rough tone does not seem to affect her.
“Lemme ask you again: Why were you lookin’ at us?
“I don’t care which way you swing, okay? Just letting you know there is nothing to get from us. Yena is mine, okay?
“Okay?”
You’re basically shouting at this point. Minju finally moves to put her hands up as a shield. You did not intend to punch her, not even a fist of yours is ready to strike. It’s a relief that your words can still evoke something from her. In a tiny voice that mirrors mice more than humans, Minju answers.
“O-okay. I didn’t me-mean to. Sorry.”
“You didn’t mean to what?” you growl back, voice dripping dissatisfaction from her vague response.
“Ma-make you envious.”
Pin the palm of her hand to the table below. Minju clearly lacks a quick reaction time. She only starts to gasp when the nail of your thumb drills into her sweaty hand, the pale skin growing paler, then white, and finally red. Minju hisses, but only you can hear the words.
“Stop, please.”
“Get lost.”
You leave her be, but not before giving her an angry stare. Behind the helter-skelter of her curtain-like hair, her eyes receive your wrath like a well-deserved punch. Minju drops back into the back of her chair and holds her palm with her other palm. She is reeling like a beaten down boxer.
“I’d congratulate you,” Yena snarks when you return to her. “But she is just a girl, so no respect.”
“I can never let my guard down. Not in front of anyone. Not when it’s about you,” you hum as the usual noise of chatter and laughs returns to the class. A surge of fire fills your chest, your lungs, like you’re a dragon breathing flames of destruction. The feeling of power, of being the strongest, the one who is not reckless enough to let his guard down around the seemingly weak.
If Minju really likes Yena—
“I cannot allow her to take your heart.”
“Shut it babe, you know I only like guys,” Yena giggles and playfully pushes your shoulder. “What am I saying? I only like you.”
Then you kiss her. A bit too passionate for a setting like this, but not passionate enough to still your hunger for more. More of Yena, but also more of this control. No one else can have her, not even a piece of her.
#
Damp concrete, a preferable alternative to the deep mud and grass of the nearby forest. You jog with intensity and focus, conquering the streets of your neighborhood. Usually you'd be the king of the trees, sucking in the fresh forest air around you while on the way to the gym, but today you need to take a detour.
It's a welcome change if you're honest, especially because the lousy weather keeps prying eyes away. No one to interfere with you and your in-ears, the loud music blasting through the cords as you turn corner after corner until your heels come to a screeching halt on the fine gravel in Rainbow Street.
A girl sits on the sidewalk of this street with its very unfitting name. Worn down buildings in a tiny, ugly array of gray and brown shades sit right next to each other. They are a stain in this otherwise genuinely pretty part of town, Rainbow Street my ass, such a tiny street with all the human filth in one spot—and for some reason, this girl decided to sit here, her butt probably sore from the gravel poking it.
"Looks uncomfortable," you say down to the stranger and pull out one of your in-ears. She doesn’t move her head out from in between her knees. Hell, in this posture she is certainly developing back problems. With wind blowing into the sleeves of her loose t-shirt, she’ll catch a cold first though.
“It’s fine,” she whispers in a low voice, still firmly staring at the ground as if your comment came with the wind and just passed by. Give her a weak, confused smile in pity. Usually, you’d not bat an eye at something like this. This girl probably has a house, where she doesn’t have to freeze and she probably also has water and soap to clean her dirty hair, so why bother with pity?
“Is it though?” you say with raised eyebrows. “You sit on the ground like a pile of misery and wait for the next wave of clouds for what? To let the rain wash your hair?”
You start to laugh at your own joke, which got the girl to finally move a muscle. Slowly she turns towards you and lifts her head even slower, like it hasn’t been lifted in a hundred centuries. Your laughter fades as you stare into grim, miserable eyes which stare back in hurt, agony even.
“Oh, it’s you,” you say and move to put your in-ears back in. “No business with you.”
“You’re so mean,” Minju states, her real emotions held behind the blunt statement. “Why?”
“Get lost, Minju. That’s why.”
You jog off, further down the street to quickly reach the gym. Never in your life have you felt the rising feeling of compassion switch to coldheartedness so quickly. For a second you felt like a hero that could save this cute puppy, but in the next, you realized that it actually was the disgusting, wretched Minju who had to flaunt the fact that she clearly lost control over her life.
She doesn’t even bother to take a shower or pretend to have any character. No wonder she’ll continue to be nothing but a loser in school.
#
During your workout, you thought more about the wrong classmate than about the right one. Minju, being the wrong one, has no reason occupying the free spaces in your head. You’d much rather think about Yena, the right classmate, the one with incredible charm and wit. Yena is respected, Yena is envied, Yena is your girlfriend and absolutely amazing. Minju is none of that.
Enraged about Minju’s sulking expression popping up in front of your inner eye again, you throw down the dumbbells. Someone’s shouting in anger, others stare. Enough workout for today, you need a distraction. A distraction served by the right classmate.
“Yena,” you blurt into your phone’s speaker the second your girlfriend picks up. “I’ll be at your place in 30 minutes, you down?”
“Oh my~” she responds and you can already feel her turn in her bed in excitement. “I don’t know, don’t really like sweaty boys coming into my room~”
“Since when did I come into your room sweaty?”
“I’ll make sure you’re gonna be sweaty, babe~” Yena whispers, voice sultry, dripping of lust like the sweat from your forehead and drool from your lips.
#
“Babe, promise me something.”
Yena fondles your hair and looks at you with anticipation. It’s something serious again.
“Anything for you, Yena.”
Wrap your arm around her hip and look at her, relaxed, sweaty, just like she predicted.
“Don’t, like, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t terrible, but please, babe, don’t go too hard on her. She’s a girl, you know?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Minju and what happened in class.”
You sigh and look away in annoyance. Pull out a cigarette from the back on the nightstand. Your hand recklessly pushes off packets of pills and condoms. Why am I shaking?
“I don’t know what you mean,” you say and search for a lighter. “She was annoying, right? And disrespectful. And I know that there are girls that like girls and that there are girls that might go crazy, especially over you. I know you’re smart Yena, so you get me, right? It’s not like I beat her up or something.”
You stop yourself from falling deeper into an incoherent mess of bad explanations, but Yena is already side-eyeing you. At least she has a flame for the stick between your lips.
“Yeah, you did not beat her, but you went too far. Raising your hand and pressing down hers? Babe, that was not necessary.”
“I did it for you, baby.”
These words roll from your tongue so easily. Whatever counterpoints Yena brings up, you can easily melt her with them, reducing any valid criticism to nothing but dust.
“But, but she’s a girl—”
“And you’re the only girl for me,” you hum and blow out the smoke before turning towards her. Yena clings onto you like a koala, pouty lips, trembling eyes, and best of all: still fully naked. Press a kiss onto her lips and she gasps.
“Babe, I—”
“I love you, Yena.”
“Me, me too.”
“Let’s forget other, stupid girls and classes. You’re the hottest thing since the sun and I want you now, baby.”
Take another drag and Yena basically jumps onto you. At this point, the two of you won’t have enough sleep for the classes tomorrow. Doesn’t really get better than an extended weekend, you’ll take it with glee. Throw away the cigarette, Yena throws away the blanket. I love truancy on a Friday.
#
“You should really take your girl now!”
Chaewon’s shout is tiny compared to the ear-drum shattering bass of the large speakers right above your head. You look at her, confused, and point at your ears. Chaewon rolls her eyes and points at Yena, who is stumbling through the crowd, a large stain on her pink tube top and a half-empty bottle of vodka in her hand.
“Better. Get. Her. Out!”
Her message is clear, and it should shame you that she is more worried about your girlfriend than you are, but you’re too used to it. Yena is magnetic to parties and the parties are magnetic to her. They need each other, and usually, you enjoy yourself alongside her, but for some reason, she went over the top today. Shot after shot after shot, down her throat until her dance moves became laughable.
“Fuck, fine!”
Growl in annoyance to make Chaewon back off to her clique and drinks while you grab the wrist of your completely dazed girlfriend and drag her through the crowd. Your eyes are always at her back, her hips, her bottom. If any filthy bastard tries to touch her, you will tear off his hand and shove it down his trachea to make him regret not respecting you enough.
Outside the old barn at some outskirt of the city, Yena suddenly starts to run, bottle still in her hand, her feet faster than usual. She is an excellent sprinter, but for some reason, the alcohol pushes her to a sudden sprint. You can barely keep pace but soon catch up to her when Yena leans to a wall and—
“Yena, what are you doi—hey, are you ok—”
—violently vomits out the hard liquor and her last meal, some noodles and meatballs. You bunch up her hair and turn your head away in disgust. Yena pushes out more, the unbearable sound not seeming to end in forever, until finally, she gasps for air.
“Sorry, sorry, babe, are you—”
“Jeez, Yena,” you groan and scrunch your nose, unable to look at the pile of half-digested food without feeling your stomach tighten painfully. “Just sit down over there, and try not to—you know?”
Unsure if she understood any of your words, you guide her to a nearby bench in front of the highest point of the wall. Except for the occasional breeze rustling the trees and Yena’s heavy breaths, it’s eerily quiet. You scan the area attentively, no possible attacker will go unnoticed, not even the figure on the far end of the wall. Why would someone sit there and stare skywards? There are barely any stars tonight.
The person has spotted you and jumps off the wall. You’d prepare to fight for your honor and Yena’s safety, but then realize that the person is pretty small and frail. You pull out your phone and point the flashlight at the approaching figure. Dressed in a thin black jacket, it’s none other than Minju. Again.
“Did not expect you here,” you snark at her and point your flashlight closer to her face. “Why the fuck are you here?”
“Hey! Is-isn’t that Min-Min-ju?” Yena bursts out in laughter and rises from her bench. “Best friends, best friendos!”
She steps towards her classmate in deep drunken delirium and tries to hug her. Instead she loses her footing way earlier and is about to crash face first onto the ground. You’re unable to react on time, but Minju is. She catches Yena’s fall, knees painfully digging into the gravel as both her arms catch your girlfriends’ fall. Slowly, the two of them descend onto the ground.
You stand there frozen, as Minju reaches into the pocket of her dirty jeans and pulls out a surprisingly fresh tissue. She carefully wipes Yena's dirty mouth, not shying away from the abhorrent smell and delusional smile. Minju holds her still like a baby, and Yena giggles stupidly.
“Get off of her!” you shout at the top of your lungs and push Minju off at her shoulders. She jumps and lets go of Yena, who almost meets the ground below if it weren’t for your arms on her back. In your rage you pick your girlfriend up so she stands and sways again. Her good mood fades as she struggles to stand upright, even with your arm around her.
“What is your game, huh? Stop trying to get her, she’s mine,” you snarl down at Minju, who sits on the ground, her legs shivering in this mild spring night. She should have worn more than a skirt if this is still too cold for her, but for some reason, she still has this unusual determination in her eyes.
“Can I have this?” Minju asks, oblivious to your rant, pointing at the vodka bottle still firmly in Yena’s grip. Your girlfriend doesn’t react to the question and instead rests her head on your chest. She sniffles and weeps, tears soaking into the fabric of your polo shirt. Enraged, you kick a bunch of gravel onto Minju—she should get fucking buried beneath it.
“Fuck off, really. Are you really that desperate? Pathetic.”
“I-I’m not, I just want to drink.
“Would you let her drink it? Yena is already looking bad.”
Furiously reach for the bottle. This fucking bitch. Throw it as hard as you can against the wall. It bursts into a million shards, the vodka running down the gray surface. Someone opens a window.
“Hey! You fucking rouges! Stop this shit or I’ll call the police!”
You’d love to curse back at them, but Yena pulls at the hem of your shirt. You look at her teary eyes and sigh. This has been a big enough mess, no need to push the limits. Stare down at Minju, who still looks at the spot the bottle hit, her eyes big yet blurry. She looks absolutely miserable.
“Back off,” you say to her. “Don’t come close to her again or you’ll regret it.”
#
Monday comes and goes, the same goes for Tuesday. You might sit in class, attend each of the lessons, but you’re not listening to a word the teachers say. Nothing special, if you’re being honest. You’d usually guide your hand on Yena’s thigh and watch her smirk knowingly as she tries to pay attention. This would go on until she pinches you. She tries to keep up with school a lot more than you do, it shows in her grades.
Today however, she is not in the mood at all. She swats you away from the start, her gaze focused, yet angry, as she tries to copy the teachers’ scrabble from the blackboard. You roll your eyes, this is not uncommon either, especially during that time of the month.
You roll tiny pellets of paper, your ammo for today. Simple, childish entertainment, sure, but you can’t wait to see the reaction of today’s target. Minju had it coming for a while now. Usually you’d send the paper flying over her head at one of the stupid classmates behind her; now she is in full focus.
At least she would be if it weren’t for her absence. You only notice it when you turn around to ready your first throw. She is not there. You drop the pellets to the ground, the only form of disarmament that actually feels like it. How can she not be there? The teacher didn’t even notice, no one noticed—and no one cares, except you.
But why do you care? Students are absent all the time and a loser like Minju has all the reasons not to go. For some reason, it still grinds your gears, brings them to a screeching halt and makes you form a fist. Feel your own fingernails dig into the palm of your hands; this is getting a bit out of control.
Suddenly, Yena’s hand is on your thigh, a surprising twist to your usual shenanigans, however, she is a lot less gentle. You spin around, meet her gaze for a second before the angry hum of your teacher finally gets your attention. She must have been standing there for quite a while, trying so hard to do her job by teaching you something, something, something.
“Oh, so you are still among us,” she notes, looking up and down at you above the rim of her large, blue glasses. “I bet you now know all the details of the French Revolution.”
“Of course,” you respond, voice and posture as nonchalant as ever.
“Do you mind explaining the root causes that led to the Battle of Verdun?”
“Actually, I do mind.” Let your smirk fade for something more sympathetic. “Excuse me, Miss Kang, I just have a terrible headache right now. I think I should leave for today.”
#
“You should pay more attention in class. You can’t always skip the lessons you don’t like.”
You put your phone on speaker and throw it on the desk. On the other side is Yena, thoroughly annoyed from the moment you started this call. If you’re honest, her annoyance is getting on your nerves as well.
“But I don’t care,” you groan into your room, loud enough for your girlfriend to hear. “It’s really hard to pay attention when it’s just boring shit, day in, day out.”
“I know it’s boring to you, but you know how grades work and that they don’t give a fuck about you not giving a fuck. At least try?” Yena tries to bargain, but you shatter her away.
“Why the fuck are we still talking about school? I should be by your side right now. Should I come over?”
You smirk in lust, one hand opening a drawer with countless condoms in it. Let a pack of it glide through your fingers before you hear a loud sigh coming from Yena.
“Not today, no. I-it’s better we not.”
“Huh? Why is that?”
“Look, it’s…”
A long pause. You almost slam the drawer shut, instead catching yourself at the last moment and only closing it carefully in deep regret. There is a deeply rooted hate in you for evasive behavior like this; it’s terrible in movies or TV shows, but when it is happening in real life, it makes you snap quickly.
“Yena—”
“I-it’s because… you wouldn’t… look, we can’t do it, okay?”
“Oh. It is that time of the month, huh?
“Ew.”
Another pause, this time a lot more tense.
“What did you just say?” Yena growls furiously. “Oh my God, you’re such an asshole!”
“Yena, I—” Your words face an impenetrable wall, not even reaching your girlfriend’s ear.
“No! Shut up! You insensitive idiot, I don’t want to deal with you too right now. Fuck. Off!”
Yena hangs up. You smash the pack of condoms to the ground, a nerve struck by her entitlement. Oh well, that’s how they are during this time. She’ll calm down by Thursday, maybe Friday. You get to sleep, not willing to even see the school building tomorrow.
#
The tide doesn’t turn on Thursday, but for some goddamn reason, you still went up to that school. For the first time since you two became a couple, she completely ignored you. You’ve been waiting at the gate for an extra twenty minutes, which meant less sleep for you, which means more annoyance, which leads to—
“Watch your fucking step, bro!” you growl at a random student, who was unlucky enough to be in your walking lane. This has quickly turned to a day where everyone is better off either treating you like the irritable King Saul or disappearing all together. A day like a threat; it all hangs by a thread that could tear at any moment.
Your patience is thin and so is Minju’s arm when she tries to pick something up. Too bad for her, she is right there when you try to pass her. With the grace of an elephant you pass by her, painfully squeeze her arm against the table and hear a whimper of pain.
“Watch it, Minju,” you bark at her and aggressively take your seat, eyes locked on her. Everything about her looks has gotten worse, her posture looks like it’s about to break, she could fold in half at any minute. Any hobo would have more dignity. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
“I—it hurts.”
You can hear from the tone of her voice, stiff and pained, that her arm really hurts. Minju wraps her fingers around it gently and looks at you, but all you see are her shimmering eyes with nothing left inside, dull and dead—and so absolutely infuriating.
“Like I said: not in the mood.”
Minju hisses. Blood spills from her elbow. The class has taken notice of the situation and looks on in awe as you stand up and in front of Minju. Someone is brave enough to sneak out, probably to get a teacher to check on Minju and the open wound, from which beads of blood slowly drip to the floor.
“What have you done?” Yena suddenly whispers from behind you, makes herself beside Minju and looks at that twig-like arm. You can’t channel your focus on her for long, Minju’s sniffles drive you to the edge of insanity.
“She was in the way, okay?” you respond, not bothering to give Yena another second of your time. For this lone, fleeting moment of your life, you can get it all out on this loser—that no one would miss, that no one sees—in all honesty, you might do her a favor with this. Now, she has everyone’s attention. They can also see how dreadful she looks and smells and dresses.
Minju is undeserving of life in your eyes—and your eyes are on her cheek.
“Maybe you should apologize?!”
A smack heard around the world. You could’ve done it so many ways: grab your wrist and use both fists to hit her or maybe angle your elbow to hit her eye socket. Instead, you went straight for her cheek with your left, swung like a boxer and Minju flew off the chair. No way she could’ve dodged this.
Knocked down after one punch, but there is absolutely nothing satisfying about it. It’s all just a mess. The puddle of Minju on the floor, swollen face, bloody mouth, lifeless limbs. The crowd of classmates that surround her, take photos, groan in shock, turn around to not vomit. The hands of Yena all over your face, push you back towards your seat, into the arms of a teacher, then an officer.
Her face tells you everything. You’ll never see her again, not as your girlfriend, not as your trophy. Those times have ended with this punch heard around the world. In the end, it wasn’t worth it. The ambulance arrives and you hear the principal yelling, not the words, just that he is yelling. To your surprise, Minju never looked better than now—with that maniacal smile on her face as they carry her towards the ambulance.
#
To your surprise, you’re not in a jail cell on Friday, but in the principal's office again. The sound of that smack you gave Minju, it finally left your ears. You’re not deaf anymore and ready to take a chance at redemption. Of course your fist could not have slipped, not with all the witnesses and the power behind it, but maybe a couple hours of anger management will save you from a trial or whatever punishment may await you.
The principal looks angry, you expected as much, but the anger is mixed with shock, speechlessness and disbelief. He must have seen a ghost last night, or God himself. You’ve never seen this serious man look so at a loss for words.
The door opens, a young woman and a police officer walk in. She is crying, he is stern. They both wait for the principal to say something, but he just points at you, unable to come up with words that could describe you. At this point, you’ve had it with their hesitation, their overreaction.
“What am I doing here?” you ask, calmly, quietly, as not to show your slight annoyance.
“T-tell him, Miss Kwon, please.” The principal’s voice is about to crack, so he turns around, hands in his hair, while Miss Kwon sits down next to you. You slowly remember why she is here. She is the confidant teacher, the kind soul, the one who cares for everyone. Even the likes of Minju.
“Min-Minju came to the hospital yesterday,” she begins, her sniffles stopped temporarily when the officer hands her a handkerchief. “She, she looked good. Yes, she did, sur-sur-surprisingly.”
For the first time, you look at Miss Kwon, but she averts you. Her posture is frozen. She continues to talk as if you aren’t there.
“I remember, she smiled, said something about you. We shouldn’t be angry, you showed it to her. I asked her, but she just smiled. The doctors said she was free to leave tonight, to-to-tonight—”
Miss Kwon bursts out in tears again, her ruined face hidden behind two fragile hands that try to keep up her composure. Behind her is still the officer, the only one to look at you in the entire room, and his dark orbs are full of disgust, like he hates your guts to the core.
“We found her.” Miss Kwon tries everything in her power to get out another sentence, you feel your breath halt for a bit. “She was, she was hanging from the ce-ceiling—”
Miss Kwon wails, but all you hear is a clock ticking in the background.
“What?”
“She killed herself!” the principal screams and slams his fists into the desk.
“She is dead, she is dead!
He slams down again and again, the floor starts to shake.
“Do you understand me!? Do you regret it!?
He hits it and you realize—
“Do you regret it!?
—he’d love to hit you like this, over and over and over again.
“Do you regret it!?”
Do you regret the single tear rolling down your cold face?
An interest in photography. A camera in your hand since you’ve been four years old. A nice motive. Click.
Other hobbies don’t come to mind. Friends are none of your concern. Just a camera and the desire to one day make money with it. The grades have to match that desire though. Click. Back to study.
You have pictures of all of your classmates. Most of them taken in secret. All of them show how they grew the last couple of years. Yena and Chawon have matured, fit and attractive. The main bully has gotten bigger, meaner. He’d kill you if he ever found your pictures of Yena. They might not be inappropriate or unflattering, but he is scarily obsessive.
One motive catches your eye. While most of your classmates have bloomed to varying degrees, one gorgeous girl has withered. Your pictures of Minju portray her as increasingly less well-dressed, less combed, less happy. You can barely catch a glimpse of her full, uncovered face. It bothers you how she hides it.
No, it’s intriguing. You can’t keep your eyes off of her. Starting someday in the middle of the school year, you can’t stop looking over to her, sitting in the midst of the classroom while being outside everything and everyone.
Snapshots here and there with your phone and a small digital camera during class. They form a collection of this disheveled girl. You’d much rather have something truly worth framing, taking with your best camera model. This will have to do for the time being, you tell yourself.
Suddenly, one day, you swear that she seems to light up more and more. It is not noticeable for anyone else, no classmates, no teachers — only you know that Kim Minju shines like a star today. Dozens of pictures fill the folder of your phone. Your heart starts to race a little bit. Maybe you could approach her, get more of this glow, hell, even a full portrait—
Don’t be ridiculous! A picture like this is impossible to ask for. You never asked anyone for such a favor, let alone someone whose connection to you only exists in your mind, in your fantasy.
Minju is not in class. A day ago she was glowing; now she is hiding. Call her a solar eclipse and you a solar flare the way you burst. The thrill is burning in your veins, blood rushing to your head as you head out, towards Rainbow Street, your most expensive camera hanging around your neck. You stop next to one of the many older, Japanese style houses. There is a police car. You quickly hide behind a tree across the small street, much more akin to a trafficless avenue.
Two officers walk out, with them a few more people, dressed in black with sorrowful and disturbed faces. Minju is not amongst them, even though this is certainly her address. They murmur and whisper and cry about something, someone — they will miss him, why did he do it, oh this poor girl. The officers drive off, the crowd disassembles.
Right before you decide to leave, the sliding door to the small building opens. A fence and a wall obstruct your view, so you decide to climb up a few branches, just a few feet off the ground to maybe catch a glimpse off—
Minju lays in the doorframe, the sliding door not fully opened. Her head rests against the side, tears endlessly streaming down her face. Small sobs, contortions of her beautiful features, her hair everywhere yet at the same time, you’ve never seen so much of her face.
Her features are flawless. This moment feels like a personal show for you. Instinctively, you reach for the camera and take a photo. Then climb higher, take another photo, then again. Minju does not notice you, but her crying intensifies once more. Her hands try to grab something. She wants to hold on so bad. Click. She gasps, cries out. Click. Words stuck in her throat, lips dry and torn. Click.
A hundred more clicks as you try not to overdose on this perfect moment. You have never felt such a rush. Minju is all yours, these pictures are your proof. Nobody gets to see her like this. Your heart races at the thought that this might be the only moment, your only chance to see this spectacle. A spectacle for you and to you only.
With a hint of disgust about yourself you walk home an hour later. Jerk off to her once because what is one more sin for today? The next day, she isn’t at school, but you don’t visit her either. The day after that she is back, but you can barely stand looking at her. In the one picture you take Minju looks her absolute worst, worse than her endless sobbing and crying and screeching and hair pulling.
You decide to go back to Rainbow Street the very next day, early in the morning. One hour from the start of school and you stand before the house again. You carefully glance at the sliding door. There is a gap, it’s open.
Your heart skips a beat. The thrill of just having a peak is enough to push you forward. Nobody is out here this early, nothing will disrupt your trespassing. Increasingly rapid breaths leave your nostrils as you put an eye to the gap. It‘s completely dark inside, just a faint white reflection hovering in the hallway catches your attention.
Your heart now races. Fingers push open fully the door that was ajar. The dim morning twilight floods the dark house and the faint white turns to a clearer picture. A simple gown, worn out, hangs from the ceiling.
A scream gets stuck in your throat as your knees give out and you collapse on the floor. Minju‘s eyes are wide open, dead and with yet to dry tears in them. Bruises on her neck, bruises on her hands, lips in a hideous purple. The noose barely holds her at the jaw, blood drips from the corners of her mouth.
You have never seen nor imagined something as utterly horrifying. It‘s like every negative emotion is flooding you for your sins. Sins you have committed, sins you still commit. You find Minju more beautiful than ever.
Beneath her dangling feet you find a letter in crude hand-writing.
To my dearest daughter
I know you won‘t understand this but this is necessary. Ever since your mother passed, I haven‘t had a clear thought. My head is a mess, my mind isn‘t mine. But I have to take responsibility. I have to stop this voice, this feeling for you. You look so much like her, it‘s too painful for me, I can‘t look at you. Please forgive me, I‘m going to her now. For your sake too.
„So you just wanna game? Play something else then, at home.“
„Hey, Minju, wait! We can do something else if you want. I just need some — excuse to stay with you, something to pass today.“
„But I don‘t want to see anyone today.“
„Not even me?“
„Definitely not you.“
„Okay, that‘s fine. But promise me that you‘ll call me if you need anything — and text me before bed.“
„What are you? My lover?“
„Just a worried friend.“
„I‘m doing fine.“
„You don‘t look like you‘re fine. If you want to be alone, I‘ll go now. But I‘m only a call away.“
„Thanks. Bye.“
#
„Minju! Minju! Open the door, please, open it now!
„Minju! Why weren‘t you in school yesterday? Are you okay? Open the door!
„I swear I‘ll kick it down right now!“
„He is dead! He is dead, fucking dead and it‘s my fault!“
„I‘m coming in!“
„No! Go away! Don‘t look at me, I‘m a demon, a devil! I killed him!“
„Calm down, please. Put, put that away.“
„No!“
„Put the rope away, Minju. Please.“
„…“
„Okay, now breathe. Slow, calm, ste—“
„I don‘t want to breathe — I want to suffocate like he did.“
„Minju, please.“
„I killed my father. I‘m a murderer, I should die.“
„Minju, please. You need to breathe. No more sobbing, no more screams. Listen to my heartbeat.“
„I-I can‘t, I don‘t deserve to!“
„Then I will hold you closer, until you‘ve given up this awful plan, until your tears are dried, until you can tell me why—“
„…“
„Minju,
„I don‘t want to lose you.
„You‘re my best friend.“
„Please, let me, let me go. I‘m a demon, a monster.“
„Even if you were, I‘d stick with you. I‘m not going to let you die tonight.“
„…“
„What is in your hands?“
„My reason.“
„Your final letter?“
„My dads final letter.“
„Whatever is written in this — it does not mean that it‘s your fault and that you need to die too. Minju, isn‘t life beautiful?“
„It‘s fucking not. I can‘t do this anymore.“
„You‘re right to feel this way. But it‘s the only life you got and even if this is just me being selfish, I want you to continue trying, continue living.“
"This is the fourth time this week I have been working late," you warn as you throw the hotel room keys onto the desk. For almost all of those concerned, the overtime is killer, and if you're keeping track - which Wonyoung almost certainly is - then the hours are tallying up to something bordering unprecedented.
Unprecedented is, for all intents and purposes, an apt descriptor. Take, for example, how you grab Rei's ass: she leans into you, her legs hooking around your hips, her arms wrapping around your neck. The way she kisses you is equally unprecedented, her teeth brushing along your lower lip and her tongue pushing into your mouth like she wants to taste every last inch of you.
It's not, all things considered, a bad way to wind down after a long day. It is, however, entirely unfaithful to the woman waiting at home for you. But then again, that's rather the point. It's all part of the fun: the lies, the locked-office-door sex, the way you eye each other across the bullpen and have to pretend you aren't thinking of the way she feels beneath you, or how she sounds when you're buried inside her. Rei's lips leave yours with a sigh, and you can see in her eyes that she's every bit as hungry as you are.
"Missed you," she breathes, tugging at your tie, loosening the knot.
"Been two days, Rei.”
"Too long."
You kiss her again, and it's hard to argue with that. Her hands are working your shirt free of your trousers, fingertips brushing your skin, while your hands are sliding up her thighs, pushing her skirt up with them. You hit the little black garter on her thigh. You knew it was there, you spotted it earlier when she totally-not-for-your benefit dropped her pen under the desk, but it's still a pleasant discovery. You hook your fingers beneath it, snap it against her skin, making her gasp into your mouth.
Rei's fingers are quick at your buttons, and she pulls your shirt open, her hands sliding over your chest, nails scraping lightly. You groan against her lips, and she smiles, smug and satisfied. "You're tense," she observes.
"You try sitting through a four-hour director meeting and see how relaxed you are," you retort, and she laughs, an airy sound that makes you want to hear it again and again.
You back her up against the desk, and she hops up, legs spreading to make room for you between them. You kiss her neck, and she tilts her head back, giving you better access. Your teeth graze her skin, and she shivers, her fingers tangling in your hair. "I have to sit through your budget reviews, too, you know," she whispers. "They're just as boring."
"But you get to look at me the whole time," you point out, and she laughs again, pulling your face up to kiss you.
She hums a little agreement before telling you the worst-kept secret of how difficult it is to be only twenty minutes into the meeting and already dripping wet. "I mean, you're up there, looking all serious and professional," she says, her fingers undoing your belt. "And I'm just thinking about how I want you to bend me over the desk and fuck me right there."
You groan because that is entirely not helpful when you're trying to keep things together for the sake of the shareholders.
"So when you had to step out of the room," Rei continues, "it took everything I had to not just follow you out and drop to my knees and suck your cock right there in the hallway."
You grip her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk, your cock pressing against her through your trousers. "Fuck, Rei," you groan, and she smirks at that.
She reaches between you, palming your length through the fabric, and you hiss, your hips jerking forward. "You're already so hard," she purrs.
"And yet, you're still so well-dressed." You start at her top shirt button, popping it open. Then the next. "I think we need to remedy that."
She bites her lip, eyes bright with anticipation, and you work your way down the line of buttons, revealing the black lace of her lingerie. You're not sure what's sexier: the underwear itself, or the fact that she's been wearing it under her work clothes all day. A body like that, you just have to taste, so you’re leaning down, kissing the swell of her breasts just above the fabric, and she hums in appreciation.
"All these hotel rooms cost a pretty penny." She’s probably right, but it’s not like you would know - the company is footing the bill for these little trysts. You’re going to argue that it’s all worth it for the look in her eyes, for the way she feels against you, for the way she's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters right now.
"I think it's a sound investment," you tell her before kissing her again, and then argue, "Good for morale."
"Mhm, I would say so. My morale is definitely up."
Then your hands are sliding up her sides, reaching her bra and pushing it up to expose her tits. You take one in your hand and just play with it so casually. Even that has her letting out deep breaths. You have to taste her. Your mouth finds her nipple, and you tease it with your tongue, making her continue those sweet sighs.
In response, her hand tightens on your cock, stroking you a little harder. "Feels so good.”
You move to her other breast, giving it an equal share of love, while your free hand slides down her stomach and slips under her skirt. You find her panties. Fuck, she’s wet. You press your fingers against her, and she whimpers, her hips rolling against your hand.
"Already so wet for me.”
"Always wet for you," she says, and fuck, that does something to you. You growl a little, nipping at her breast, making her cry out. Your fingers push her panties aside, sliding through her folds. You find her clit. You circle it lightly, and the response comes in a shudder and the clench of her thighs on your sides.
"I love how easy you are."
"Calling me a slut?" Rei asks as she unfastens your trousers, and you laugh into the valley of her breasts.
"Is that what you want me to call you?" You kiss up her chest now before nipping at her collarbone. You want to hear her say it - want to hear her admit how much she loves it when you call her a needy little thing.
"Maybe." Her hand slips into your boxers, wrapping around your cock, and you groan, your hips thrusting into her grip. "Maybe I just want you to fuck me like one."
Yeah, that’s the point here, Rei. Accompanied by a kiss, you push your fingers inside her so easily. You curl them, and before long, she breaks the kiss, her forehead against yours as she moans.
"I'm the best hour of your day," Rei teases, and it’s not entirely true, if not entirely false.
"Second best," you say with a little bite. "It's not like Wonyoung doesn't keep me pretty happy at home."
And that, right there, is the thing - the line that makes this so fucking hot. The way she knows you have someone else, and she doesn't care. She likes it, even. It gets her off just as much as it gets you off. You can feel her clench around your fingers, and you know she's thinking about it, about how she's the other woman, the side piece, the dirty little secret.
"Lucky her," Rei groans. "Getting you all to herself at night."
"Evening, night, morning - every chance we get."
You pull your fingers out of her, and she whines, but it doesn’t last long because you're already pushing her skirt up higher. Then go her panties in the other direction. She lifts her hips to help you, and soon you toss them aside. You spread her thighs. She places one hand behind her on the wood, keeping herself propped up, and with the other, she guides the head of your cock to her entrance. It all seems so rehearsed, which is a testament to the number of times you’ve had her like this.
"Where do you get the energy -"
She doesn't finish the sentence, too busy gasping as you push into her, slow and steady. She's so wet and so warm around your tip. There is a moment where you just look at each other, both breathing heavily, and then you start to move, your hips rolling as you fuck her on the desk, and you tell her, "Proper motivation."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Something about knowing someone else is waiting for me at home," you say, and she moans, her head falling back. "Makes me want to fuck you even harder."
"Fuck," she gasps, her fingers digging into your shoulders. "That's so fucked up."
"Knowing that ‘the someone at home’ is going to suck your cum off my cock when I get home." You start to thrust a little faster, a little harder. It always goes like this, as you both descend into cheating madness. "And she has no idea."
Rei's eyes are glazed over, her lips parted as she pants, and you take the chance to capture her soft lips again. She kisses back just as hard.
Her nail scrape down your back as she pulls off your shirt. You can feel the sting, but it just spurs you on, your hips snapping against hers over and over.
You want to mess her up. You want to ruin her, to mark her, to make her forget her own name. It’s all primal thoughts when you’re alone with her. You want to fuck her so good she can't think straight, can't remember anything but your cock and the way you feel inside her.
So you do just that. You fuck her hard and deep. Your hands are on her hips, and you pull her into every thrust. She's making the most delicious sounds - little whimpers and moans that go straight to your cock.
There's this thing about Rei - call it a habit or call it an addiction - she's got this need to be a little bit mean, to be a little bit cruel, even when she's getting her brains fucked out. You can feel it in the way she's digging her nails into your skin, in the way she's clenching around you, trying to milk you for all you're worth. So you give her a little of what she wants, and you whisper in her ear, "Wonyoung would hate you, you know."
Rei barely manages a few expletives in response.
"She'd scratch your eyes out if she knew what we were doing." You punctuate your words with a particularly hard thrust, and she cries out. "But I guess that's part of the fun, isn't it? The thought of her finding out?"
"Yes," Rei hisses. "Fuck, yes."
"You love it, don't you? You love being the dirty little secret, the one I come to when I need a little extra."
With that, she's got a hand on the back of your head, pulling you hard against her, into the crook of her neck. Her lips are right at your ear, and between the moans and the ragged breaths, she's throwing out these little fragments of self-degradation. "I'm just a quick fuck to you," she says. "Just a warm hole to stick your cock in when you're bored of her."
She's not wrong, but you love hearing her say it, love the way she's getting off on her own humiliation. So you tell her she's right, and you kiss her neck. You’re all teeth - it’s a little aggressive. "But you're so fucking good at it," you growl. "You're such a good little slut for me."
"Fuck, yes," she whines, and you can feel her getting close, her body tensing up, her nails digging into your scalp. "I'm your little slut, I'm your dirty little secret, I'm—fuck, I'm gonna cum."
You can feel it too, that telltale tightening around your cock and hear it in the way her breath hitches. So you push her right over the edge. Your thumb finds her clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles as you keep pounding into her. She screams, her whole body convulsing, and you feel her gush around your cock as her juices soak both of you.
"See, you're always so easy." She's nodding along, or at least doing her best to; some form of vague agreement is hidden in the way she's falling apart. There's this signature way Rei cums, something you know well enough now that you could pick it out in a lineup of orgasmic faces, where she gets a bit teary-eyed, and her bottom lip quivers, and then she breaks into this giggle - it's fucking adorable. "And so messy."
You slow down, letting her ride it out, and then you pull out, her body going limp against the desk. You take a moment to admire her - the way her chest is heaving, the flush on her cheeks, the dazed look in her eyes. You could look at her for hours, memorise every detail, but you've still got work to do.
So you're picking her up, but not heading for the bed.
Something about sliding balcony doors sings to the voyeur in you, as if you needed the city lights as an audience to the little spectacle you're making of her. So that's where you're taking her. That's where you'll pound her next.
"You know, there is a budget issue," Rei slurs out as she is pushed up against the glass.
"Oh yeah?"
"Overspending."
You're near tearing that skirt from her hips, and as she steps out of it, she turns and bends over, pushing her ass out for you. "And it can't wait?"
Rei shakes her head, looking back over her shoulder. "Actually, it's very relevant." She dips a little deeper. "You see, overtime costs are up a few points this quarter, and accommodation expenses have ballooned."
"Sounds like something we need to crack down on. Maybe you can find one of your creative approaches?"
"Asking me to get creative?"
"Always."
“I can do creative." It's an understatement for a woman like her, who seems to have an infinite number of ways to make you lose your mind. Case in point: she reaches out to pull a chair over to her side, and then she puts one foot on it and bends over a little further, giving you an even better view of her pussy, still wet and glistening from her last orgasm.
And just like that, you're kneeling, hands on her ass, spreading her open. Your tongue slides through her folds. Rei presses against the glass. "With the right motivation, I can hide any deficit," she's telling you, and you chuckle against her, the vibration making her shiver.
You lick her clit, and she whimpers. Rei pushes her hips back against your tongue. "I can make it work," she continues, her words breathy. "I'll just have to get very hands-on with the numbers."
You're not really listening anymore, too focused on the way she tastes, the way she feels against your tongue. You don’t have to see her to know she’s smirking. "I'll just have to bend over backwards for the company."
You groan at that, your cock twitching at the idea, and you pull back, standing up. You slap her ass, making her yelp and the flesh wobble. Now, you're lining up again and then pushing into her in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the glass where she can’t find any.
"Corporate loyalty," she gasps out. "It's all about giving your all."
"I think you're more than giving your all, Rei," you tell her. You reach around her to cup her breasts. "I think you're going above and beyond."
She laughs, breathless and a little wild, and it's the sexiest sound you've ever heard. "Just doing my job."
"And you're so good at it." You roll her nipples between your fingers. "I should give you a raise."
"I'd rather you just shut up and keep fucking me."
You can't argue with that. You straighten up, one hand on her hip, the other hooking the thigh of the leg she has propped up in the air. You're pressing her against the glass, the city lights blurring behind her. You're fucking her hard and fast. She's taking it, loving it, begging for more. You give it to her, you give her everything, until you can feel yourself getting close, your balls tightening, your thrusts becoming a little erratic.
"Fuck, Rei, where?" you manage to grit out. Not that this is a knowledge thing, you just need to hear her say it before you do it.
"Anywhere. On me. In me."
In her.
She's cumming and laughing, and it's all so overwhelming, you can't help but follow her over the edge. Your vision goes white, your body tensing as you empty yourself inside her, filling her up with your cum. You stay like that for a moment, both of you breathing heavily, and then you pull out, watching your cum drip out of her, down her thighs.
It's fucking obscene, and you love it. You love the way she looks, all dishevelled and well-fucked. Rei turns to face you, and there's a satisfied smirk on her lips. There’s a gleam in her eye that says she knows exactly what she's doing to you.
She's standing, hands against your chest as she leans close, and suddenly she's all delicate. Plump lips give pillowy kisses. She keeps pulling back before you can engage her in liplock, a playful tease that has you chasing her kisses as she tilts her head this way and that.
"You're a bad habit," she whispers, and you can feel her smile against your lips.
"You're worse.”
"I know," she smirks, and just when you think you might make out with her, she's gone. One quick drop to her knees with cat-like precision. She's taking your cock in her mouth, cleaning you off, her tongue swirling around the head, lapping up the mixture of your cum and hers. You groan, and your hands tangle in her hair.
You've seen that look before - many times over the months you've been sneaking around with her. You're sure you'll see it again, and again, and again. As much as you both know this is wrong, as much as you both know it can't last, you can't seem to stop. She's your addiction, your guilty pleasure, your favourite fucking sin.
"Fuck, Rei." You're already half-hard again inside her mouth, and that has the corners of it upturned a little.
Then comes the buzzing - your phone. You swear under your breath, reach for it, and see Wonyoung's name flashing on the screen.
Rei pulls off your cock, a string of saliva connecting her lips to your head, and then - as if it's the most normal thing - tells you, "Better answer that.”
A shake of your head and a resigned sigh. You’re supposed to be in the office, and that leaves no excuse for ignoring her call. You swipe and answer. "Hey, baby.”
"Hey," Wonyoung says, and you can practically hear her pout. "You're working late again, aren't you?"
"Yeah, sorry. Meeting ran over, and I just need to… finish up."
She sighs, a little over-dramatically to make her point. You’ve heard it before, and you’ll hear it again. "Again? This is the fourth time this week. I'm starting to feel neglected…"
You have to bite back a groan and swallow it as Rei takes you back into her mouth. She caresses the tip of your cock with her tongue. "I know, baby, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"I'm holding you to that," Wonyoung warns. And sure, she's not really mad, just playfully annoyed, but there’s this pang of guilt that quickly passes. Her tone shifts to something a little more serious and a little more seductive. "You know, I've been thinking about you all day. I'm wearing that new lingerie you bought me."
It’s an enticing thought that will only fuel you further.
Oh, fuck. Rei's eyes flick up to yours as she takes you deeper. That fucking smirk around your cock. Ugh, she’s so clearly enjoying the predicament she's putting you in. You clear your throat. "Yeah? The red one?"
"Mm-hmm," Wonyoung purrs. "It's so soft against my skin, and it makes me feel so sexy. I wish you were here to see it."
You drop your tone a little and tell her, "Wish I was too." It's not entirely a lie - you do want to be there and to see her in that lingerie. You just also happen to want to fuck Rei's throat while you're thinking about it, but you can’t exactly say it out loud.
You can just picture Wonyoung lying on your shared bed, her hand trailing down her stomach, slipping inside the red lace. "I've been touching myself," she confesses, and your hips jerk forward, making Rei gag a little. "Just thinking about you. About your hands on me, your mouth on me, your cock inside me."
Jesus Christ. This is too much. Rei's still working you over, her head bobbing in your lap, and Wonyoung's moaning in your ear. You're pretty sure you're going to hell for this, but fuck, does it feel so good.
"I want you to come home and fuck me," Wonyoung near-pleads. "I want you to bend me over the bed and take me hard. I want to scream your name until the neighbours complain."
You tangle your fingers into Rei's hair and hold her in place as you start to thrust into her mouth. "I'll be home as soon as I can, baby.”
"Promise?" Wonyoung asks, and you can hear the pout again.
"I promise." It's a lie, but what's one more on top of all the others?
"Are you alone?" Rei looks up at you, her eyes wide, but she doesn't stop sucking you, doesn't even slow down. If anything, she doubles her efforts, taking you deeper, her nose pressing against your stomach - the last thing you need.
"N-no," you stutter out. "I mean, yes. Yes, I'm alone. Just me and the spreadsheets."
"Right, right. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Fine," you grit out, as Rei starts to hum around your cock. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning. "Just tired. Long day."
"Mm," Wonyoung’s not entirely convinced, that much is sure, but she buys any lie you try to sell her. "Well, hurry up and finish your work so you can come home and finish me off."
"Believe me, I'm trying," you say, and it's the truth, for once. You need to fuck Rei again - need to finish your work.
Wonyoung laughs, a bright, happy sound that makes your chest ache. "I love you," she says, and the words hit you like a series of little punches to the gut.
"I love you too," you reply, and you mean it - even as Rei's swallowing around you, even as your hips are thrusting into her mouth, even as you're trying not to bust a nut down your mistress's throat. You love Wonyoung, and that's what makes this so fucked up.
"See you soon." Wonyoung hangs up and leaves you with the dial tone and a girl on her knees who's still looking up at you with a fire in her eyes.
You toss your phone aside. You grip Rei's hair as you start to really fuck her face in punishment. She takes it - just lets you use her. Her eyes water, and spit drips down her chin. "That was so fucking bad," you scold. "Doing that while I'm on the phone with her."
Rei pulls off, a string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock, and then catches it as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Punish me then."
At that, you're throwing her onto the bed. Wonyoung can wait. For just a little while longer, at least. You're going to give Rei exactly what she wants, and then you're going to go home to your girlfriend, and you're going to fuck her, too. Because you're greedy, and you want it all - the sweet girlfriend who loves you, and the dirty mistress who lets you use her.
A/N: Wow fic in the big year 2026. Hope there are reader's still here lol.
The sun begins to set after an eventful afternoon, its orange rays illuminate the hotel room you occupy for “work negotiations”. The usual chilly evening breeze doesn’t bother you, the thick hotel quilt, or more specifically, the girl wrapped in it with you, provides enough warmth to you.
You rest your chin on her shoulders and admire the scenery with her. “This view is not as beautiful as you, princess.”
Tzuyu giggles at the compliment and she gently rubs her hand over yours, lazily enjoying your embrace. You press yourself tighter against her and kiss the nook of her neck, glancing down the balcony and watching most of the crowd by the pool dissipating. It’s the end of the day but you’re hoping it's not the end of yours. A hand sneaks from her tummy to between her thighs as your lips kiss up the side of her face. “Is it time for you to go?”
Her body tenses for a split second, conflicted on what to do next, but you, ever the devil on her shoulder, pull her waist even tighter against your groin and run a finger across her splayed pussy. “I should, but I,” she lets out a soft moan and snuggles back into you, her shaky hands now gripping the balcony railings, “just, one more time, okay?”
You grin. You’ve won over her once again. “Anything for you, princess.”
She gets rid of the quilt and turns to you, her eyes sparkle with need. You bend her over the railing and spread her legs a little further. Her lower body sticks itself further back, pussy already glistening in anticipation. You can’t wait any longer, desperately wanting to be back in her body just as you’ve been for most of the day, so you position your cock by her pussy and gently thrust it in.
She lets out a satisfied sigh when you’re inside her once again, her body tight but gradually opening up to you. A perfect match for you, you’re glad you didn’t let this gem slip away. Thankfully , she needs you as much as you need her, forming this wicked, dark relationship.
You work your hips harder, your cock hitting the depths of her body. An instant reaction, a loud cry for all still lingering by the pool to hear, and you continuously draw her moans out with deeper harder thrusts. You hold her ass instead of her waist and take a few squeezes, enjoying the feel of her flesh.
Tzuyu is so engrossed in the dirty fucking, barely able to remember that you’re in a very public position. Her eyes blurry, scanning the poolside and hoping no one looks up. Even with her unobstructed cries, you both go unnoticed, that is until you begin to slap her ass.
Not hard enough to inflict too much pain or leave a handprint, but just nice that the spank adds to your noise. It catches Tzuyu off guard and you feel her get wetter and tighter after such an unusually loud moan. You sense her fear soon after, her arm held across her chest and her mouth trying to seal shut and not make any noise.
“What’s the matter, princess? Don’t you want to show off how sinful you are?”
You peel her arm away and tug her body so that it’s upright and flushed with yours. Gently cupping her tits, she’s now leaning back against you, hips rocking back to meet yours, eyes shut as she quietly moans and enjoys the fuck.
“I think there are people watching.”
“Oh?” You’re not fazed, still continuing to fuck her, even planting more kisses on her cheek before you look down. “Let’s go princess.”
In an instant, you pull out of her and pull her back into the room and onto the messy bed. She falls next to you and you both look at each other before bursting into giggles. A lovely different symphony, an anomaly from the usual sounds of pleasure from Tzuyu. She’s staring into your eyes and you’re sweeping stray strands of hair off her face. You lean over her and kiss her forehead, then her cheeks. A warmth washes over both of you, you sense her melting deeper into the bed while your strength begins to fade.
Her eyes, they’re so pretty. You’ve tainted this princess already, ruined her for an entire afternoon, but you see her, for the stunning woman she is at her core, and you lose more control. You’re falling, moving lower, and you’re kissing her, softly. She’s soft too, jelly, and you feel her lips press back against yours.
Mere seconds later, what felt like eternity, you’re right back to watching her, watching her eyes sparkle, her pretty face shine as she smiles oh so beautifully.
You fall even further, this time with her aid. Her palm rests on your cheeks, her chin tilts up just a little to close the gap, and she guides you back onto her lips. A gentle kiss, her mouth parts so slightly to sigh into yours. You smile when your forehead touches hers and you hold her head and kiss her again.
“I want you,” her eyes pleading, her voice almost cracking, so vulnerable, “make love to me.”
“Anything for you princess.”
You’re kneeling between her legs but you nudge it a little wider. The hand on her cheek shifts onto her chest, briefly going over her breast, the slight pressure causes a gasp, until you’re holding her waist. Your tip presses against her wet entrance and you glance back at her. She is an utter mess as you insert yourself inside her body, her walls tightening around you. Perfect, you’re like the missing piece of a puzzle in her life, as wrong as it all is, but she doesn’t care, not in this moment, maybe not ever from here on out.
You take slow and deep thrusts, filling her completely, ensuring she feels every bit of you. She’s melting into the bed, surrendering, giving herself up to you, all thoughts gone except how much she needs you. A whole afternoon later and she still can’t get enough of you. She’s so wet and tight, her legs wrap your waist, as if she doesn’t ever want to let you go.
But it only drives you to go faster. You’re losing control of yourself too, having never seen her this pleasure stricken before. It’s all you. Her face in pure ecstasy is all thanks to you.
“You’re so pretty for me, princess. I love it when you’re like this.”
A blush, a shy smile that’s immediately covered by a hand.
“No no. No hiding from me.”
No, you can’t have that, so you pull it off, hold her hand by her waist. You squeeze her hand, Look deeply into her eyes, you’re met with hers, half lidded from the pleasure, but the glint of affection is still there.
“I’m going to cum.”
“Not yet, just a little longer princess.”
Her back arches, her heels hook around your waist. She pulls you close by the back of your head. Every little sound she makes goes straight into your ears.
“I can't, I can't, I’m cumming.”
Her pussy is so tight and wet around you, making a small mess at your lower body. She’s melting, and even though you’re whispering soothing calming words to her, you’re not exactly helping with your cock still drilling her at full speed. She feels so good, a near perfect fit for you, and a few more rapid pumps into her body later, you’re cumming too.
“I’m going to breed you princess.”
Your words barely reach her ears, a soft moan in return before you shut her up with a deep passionate kiss. You’re shooting hot white cum in her, pumping and burying your load in the depths of her womb.
Your lower body works on autopilot and lazily thrusts a few more times while you’re focused on Tzuyu. Your hand is on her cheek and your lips still on hers, just so gently tasting her sweet lips for the hundredth time but you know deep down it’ll never be enough.
Your body finally cools down from the feral fervour and you slip out of Tzuyu’s body with some of your cum following suit. Tzuyu musters her strength and turns you onto your back while she straddles you. She collects the cum staining her thighs and licks them clean while you’re appreciating her body again and gently caressing her curves.
“It’s time I really should go back home.”
“Clean yourself up before you leave. Don’t want you smelling like sex when you’re with your boyfriend.”
Her lower body stumbles off the bed. Tzuyu pauses, then turns to smiles before entering. She doesn’t need to say anything, you get the message.
~~~~~~
You’re back in that natural, comfortable position, with arms wrapped around Tzuyu’s waist and head resting on her shoulder, this time in the shower. You can’t get enough of her. Her body, her warmth, her relieved smile as you wash off the last bits of soap left on her body.
She hurriedly dries herself off and begins to dress up. She frantically looks around the crumpled dress and presses on any wrinkles, while you lean against a wall, wrapped in a towel and watch in amusement and adoration.
Dressed and about to leave, her hands hesitate at the door. She turns to you, words choked in her throat. But she doesn’t need to say anything.
“Just one more, princess.” You hold her hand and lean into her. “Please.”
Tzuyu nods, closes her eyes and kisses you.
You wish you had more time. You just want to get dirty with her again. You know that she has to go, but you also know that she is yours as much as you are hers and that you’ll see her very soon.
When she pulls away, when your foreheads touch, when she sighs, you fall even deeper.
“My place, this Saturday?”
“I’d love that.”
Her hand slips away from yours and you watch her leave the hotel room.
A regret for you both, but you know this isn’t the end, not by a long shot.
******
A/N: Honestly, this draft was like 90% complete since April last year but I didn't like it enough to post it. A review now made me realise it wasn't as bad as I remembered. Hope yall enjoyed this. More fics to come? Idk. I hope so.
By the time this is posted, it’ll have been five full years since I made one of the most important clicks in my life: the Tumblr post button on a sleepless dawn after finishing a rough 2k-ish reader-insert fanfiction written on a whim at 2 AM. From there, nothing was ever the same.
Out of all the interests I’ve taken up (movies, basketball, etc.), somehow the one persistent thing I’ve been able to maintain interest in outside of Pokémon is writing. If you told me I’d devote myself to writing back ten years ago, I would have thought you were on crack. Maybe 2013-14 me would believe it, but not the later versions of me pre-pandemic. Yet here we are, having dedicated a fifth of my actual life into this. Life really throws you unexpected curveballs sometimes.
I was 13 when I used to write screenplays/scripts that me and my classmates would read after lunch and sometimes for English projects in the sixth grade. They were silly and stupid, but quite fun to look back on and something that I thought I’d get over once I was done with middle school. I’ve revisited writing pre-pandemic once but assumed I lost that same spark now I was a teenager with other things to do. So I feel grateful to revisit that little part from my childhood and have it grow in a meaningful, if not absurd manner. And to be honest, I was never really a literary fellow; I seldomly read books and preferred films/movies. Even as I continued writing, my references and how I visualize scenes often stems from how it would be perceived on a screen than what it was supposed to be—in oral/descriptive detail.
Admittedly, the experience so far has been both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it’s allowed me to tap into my creative side, the more fun, whimsical side of me that I otherwise never would have explored further had I not made that leap and decision after reading Interrogation and Business Trip back then. And in a way, I also wouldn’t have been as big into K-pop now if I wasn’t a writer, since it gave me more avenues and artists to explore the genre (peach is a big reason as to why I got into IZ*ONE after they disbanded and subsequently the groups/solos that followed, now two of them are my ult groups), so I’ll always give this hobby some credit for diversifying my music taste and defining what I listen to now. Writing has taken me to places I never thought I’d imagine too, to the point where it even became a side hustle and a secondary source of income; it’s allowed me to go to concerts and support my family to some degree, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
But the further along I’ve gotten into this, the more unnecessary pressure I put on myself as both a writer and a community member. I’m still clearly lacking in many aspects and even have to relearn the basic fundamentals at times. The people I look up to are better than ever; even newcomers who have been here for way less time than me have surpassed me a long time ago, and they more than deserve the success and acclaim they’re getting, they’ve been phenomenal reads. Meanwhile, I’m entering year five and I feel like I’ve stagnated, maybe even regressed. It’s also gotten to the point where I constantly have to keep proving myself every time I release a new fic. Like yes, this is a hobby; it’s nothing serious, but given the time and effort I’ve devoted to it, I feel like I’m not where I should be. Similar to playing video games or learning a sport; I should be getting better at it with time and practice, and I feel as if though I’m not.
Not that long ago, I went on an institutional retreat as part of our graduation rites (which we will return to), and while nothing much happened, the one thing I somehow wrote down was: break your habits. Two weeks after that, I’ve received a message that highlighted something alarming, and I didn’t just think about my past year. It made me think about everything. To the point where I even question now as to whether I still deserve to be here.
As much as I want to keep going, I feel that the end is near. I started this blog in the middle of the pandemic when I had nothing to do. I’m graduating in a month and my financial situation is kinda dire. Life has become too hectic and my priorities have changed drastically where I feel like something has to give. This blog—and this hobby—has embedded itself as a huge component of my life, but I feel like I don’t belong anymore. I feel that even though I’ve been around for so long, I still feel like I’m not good enough to have earned your respect. I keep making the same mistakes, both as a person and as a writer that even though I promised to improve upon, I just keep falling back into. It’s a neverending cycle. And let’s focus on the former here: as a persona, as pi or peter or some other name you’ve known me by, I’ve burned one too many bridges to be considered someone worth looking up to, or to be even considered as an acquaintance, let alone a friend. I’ve let my own pride, my own selfishness, and my own narcissism take over more times to count, and I’ve refused to take complete control or accountability believing no one’s getting hurt when in reality, people are; they’ve only just brought this up to me now. And I’ve been reading and listening.
I’m never one to start conflicts at all. My belief is that if there’s any issue that needs to be settled, it should be resolved privately and without causing a stir. But given how hard it is to address you all individually, I’ve decided to extend a branch to you all by making this public, even if it seems like the dumbest play. I know some of you have had issues with me, whether in the past or present, about items we’ve discussed in public, private, or even unspoken and for that: I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry for not being a good person, for not making the necessary changes I promised back then. I don’t expect you to forgive me, given how many times I’ve fucked up, and there’s only so many chances you can give; but at least I want you to read this: I genuinely feel bad about everything. Trust, once broken, is hard to repair, and I believe I’ve pushed it one too many times for you to be worth my time, but the regret is genuine.
This isn’t me asking for empathy or sympathy or me wallowing in self-pity; rather this is me being honest. There’s so many things, so many words, and actions I regret back on, even as recently as yesterday, and while I can forgive myself and move on, I doubt you will. Human nature dictates you can only endure so much before you finally decide to sever the connection for your own sanity, and that’s okay. If anything; I’m surprised a majority of you still look at me somewhat respectably and not as a lowlife or lesser being like some of the people who call themselves “writers” by using AI for everything or writing UA or noncon, but that’s beside the point: you should have left me behind a long time ago. I promised I’d do better, and in the time since, none of that seems to have come true. And now I’m giving you the choice to do it again. If you have any issue or problem with how I conduct myself that you want to address (whether publicly or privately), come forward so we can talk about it (peacefully and without conflict). If you want to block me straight up, then go ahead. If you think I’m no longer worth your time, then unfollow. If you think my presence is no longer worth tolerating for the betterment of the community, then feel free to kick me out. I absolutely deserve every bit of criticism you’ll throw my way, and it’s my own actions that have caused this. Whatever you choose to do, I’ll 100% respect that decision.
In spite of everything, let it be known I have never spoken a negative word about any of you, whether in private or public. I may be jealous and envious sometimes reading your work or being excluded from certain projects, but it's out of a motivation and a desire to do better. And whenever I am feeling jealous, let it be known that it was never personal. Of course we all want to be great, and every journey is unique, but sometimes, I feel that the results don’t translate, or that I’m inherently less talented than some of you, or maybe I just don’t see the good in whatever I do. And even to the people I’ve had an issue with, let it be known I have never thought ill of you as well. I want us to co-exist peacefully, regardless of our beliefs, philosophies, opinions, and no matter what differences we have about each other. But if you think that is no longer an option in this space, then so be it—I’ll find my way out of here.
There’s so many people I want to thank for my time here, that listing them all is impossible, but I’ll try my best anyway. Firstly, to the guys that welcomed me with open arms and helped me settle into the community when I debuted: to peach, ddeun and levi (worldsover) for answering my questions, even if they were stupid and easily searchable and learning how the Tumblr ecosystem worked. To peach, caps, majorblinks, kooya, bran, iz, and gray for their incredible body of work and inspiring me to get better; I can only dream of even being in your shadow. To this day, many of your works I still use as reference for my own writing, so thank you for sharing your wonderful talent. To chunk, my brother from another mother, I miss you dearly and our daily yap sessions. Sometimes we just send GIFs to each other and just go crazy; I miss that—and I hope you’re doing well wherever you are. To iz for keeping the faith when I was at my lowest; I’m glad you’re better now and I hope we can meet one day. To svn, DJ, hoaqin, def/bamee, kaede, eros, CJ (banananutsmuthie), and chim, thanks for putting up with my random bullshit every single day. I get online and am always happy to see you; the little things make my day. To the people I’ve met IRL: valentine, cray, Digi, and Dotoli, I hope we can hang out more often and it was great meeting you lovely bunch, and thank you for letting me be comfortable around you even if I’m weird as hell. To everyone else I cannot address or have not mentioned in this section, I hope I have found favor in your sight, whether as a writer, a friend, or a community member. Finally, to sins, my debut brother; I know we haven’t been on the best of terms for a long, long time—and you’ve recently laid upon me a lifetime of guilt and past mistakes that prompted this letter, but I have never harbored ill feelings toward you even once; as a matter of fact, I pray and hope we can put bury the hatchet and truly reconcile one day. But until then, just know I respect you as a writer and a person, regardless of how you look at me. It’s nothing but love on my end.
And lastly, to you, dear reader, for reading all the way to the end of this letter, thank you. Thank you for believing in me when I was still questioning myself—and still am, to this day. Every note, every reblog/comment, every commission helped me become the writer I am today, and for that, I am eternally grateful and humbled. I don’t know if this next year is truly the end or not—tomorrow is never promised—but if there’s one thing I don’t regret, it’s definitely writing and sharing my work with you, and you accepting me with open arms. I appreciate and cherish the journey we’ve been on together, both the good and bad times.
