#Paris Museum Pass

[goingplacesfarandnear]

Visiting Paris This Year? Plan in Advance

If you have a hope of seeing the Mona Lisa at Le Louvre, book your timed ticket as soon as you book your travel to Paris © Karen Rubin/goingplacesfarandnear.com By Karen Rubin, Travel Features Syndicate, goingplacesfarandnear.com If you are planning to visit Paris his year, it is especially important to make plans really early, lock in reservations to visit the sites, attractions, restaurants,…

[jupiterpilgrim]

Tropic Getaway

Hanni x Danielle x Minji x male reader

word count: 20k

The downstairs study lounge is just heavy.

It was supposed to be another night of studying, but, along the way, things went wrong. Or rather, they went wrong. Now papers and books are just everywhere, a mess of good intentions gone bad. Danielle's basically become one with the couch, kinda slumped over, doomscrolling on her phone or just staring blankly at the ceiling, looking totally over it. Opposite her, Minji is full-on face-down in her textbook on the table, like she's trying to absorb the knowledge through her forehead or just taking a very still, very desperate nap. And then there's Hanni, loaded with restless energy, pacing back and forth across the worn-out carpet, basically the only thing moving in the whole room besides Danielle’s thumb.

It doesn't take a genius to know that the keyword of the day is burnout.

"I can't," Minji mumbles, words muffled by the textbook cover. "I physically cannot read another sentence about market equilibrium. My brain has turned into actual sludge."

Danielle lets out a noise that is halfway between a laugh and a groan. "Tell me about it. I spend six hours debugging that stupid short film edit for the Media Club showcase. Six. Hours. Just to fix a two-second audio sync issue." She tosses her phone onto the cushion beside her. "My eyes feel like they're full of sand, I feel like I'm going to spontaneously combust at any moment." She stretches, her joints popping audibly. "Spring break can't come fast enough. Seriously. If I don't get out of here, away from deadlines and group projects and early morning lectures, I'm going to short-circuit."

Hanni stops pacing and leans against the wall, crossing her arms. "Okay, so we're all in agreement. We're burnt the fuck out." Her gaze sweeps over her friends. "Which means we need this break. Like, medically need it. Forget staying here and 'catching up on sleep' or whatever bullshit people pretend they're going to do. We need an escape. A real one."

Minji pushes the textbook away with a sigh. "Okay, fine. Escape. Where?" She slumps back in her chair. "My parents suggest I come home. Help them clean out the garage." The look on her face makes it clear this is less appealing than facing 'market equilibrium’.

"Garage cleaning? Yeah, hard pass," Danielle says. "My mom wants me to visit my aunt in the countryside. Which, you know, love my aunt, but her idea of excitement is watching cows graze."

Hanni makes a face. "Okay, those are both nightmare fuel options. We need... sunshine. Something completely different." She pushes off the wall, starting to pace again, but this time with more purpose. "Think. No parental obligations, no academic pressure, no weird relatives. Just... decompression." She snaps her fingers. "Europe?"

Danielle considers it, tilting her head. "Europe's cool... but doesn't that feel like... a lot of effort right now? All the sightseeing, the museums, the walking... My feet already hurt just thinking about it. And figuring out trains and hostels while my brain is fried? I don't know."

"Yeah, Dani's got a point," Minji chimes in, pulling her legs up onto her chair. "I love the idea of Paris or Rome, but I think I need somewhere I can just... shut down. Like, minimal brain activity required. Maximum relaxation."

"Okay, okay, fair," Hanni concedes. "Effort is bad. Brain activity is bad." She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. "How about a paradise place? Like, Mexico? Cancun?"

"Spring break in Cancun?" Danielle wrinkles her nose. "Isn't that just... wall-to-wall drunk frat guys trying to get you to do body shots? Feels like trading one kind of stress for another. A louder, potentially stickier kind."

Minji nods vigorously. "Definitely not the vibe. I want peace, Dani wants low-effort, I want... heat. Real heat. Not this pathetic excuse for spring weather we're having."

Hanni stops pacing again, a slow smile spreading across her face. It starts small, just a twitch at the corner of her lips, but grows as the idea takes hold. "Okay. Heat. Low effort. No frat guys, or at least, easily avoidable ones. Maximum relaxation." Her eyes light up. "What about the Caribbean?"

Silence falls for a moment as the image settles in their minds. Crystal clear turquoise water. White sand beaches. Palm trees swaying gently. Colorful drinks with little umbrellas. No textbooks. No editing suites. No Professors.

Danielle sits up straighter, the listlessness fading from her expression. "Okay... Caribbean. Like... where?"

"Doesn't even matter, does it?" Minji asks. "Barbados, St. Lucia, Turks and Caicos... They're all beaches and sun and rum punch, right?"

"Exactly!" Hanni grins, walking over and perching on the edge of the table near Minji. "Pick an island, any island. Somewhere with stupidly blue water, amazing food, maybe some snorkeling or just lying on the beach like lizards, soaking up the sun until our brains reset." She pulls out her own phone, fingers already flying across the screen. "There’s gotta be some great resorts over there."

Danielle picks her phone back up from the cushion. "Okay, I'm looking up flights. Let's see... non-stop options preferred, obviously."

Minji leans over Hanni's shoulder, peering at her screen. "Look at that resort... Jesus, that pool looks insane. Is that a swim-up bar? We could spend an entire day just migrating from the beach chair to the pool chair to the swim-up bar stool.”

"It looks... luxuriously expensive, Han," Minji says.

"Oh, yeah, sure, focus on reality! Let's see what we found on Airbnb."

And just like that the miserable study lounge totally disappears. Forget the textbooks, forget the debugging nightmares, forget the professors. Minji, Danielle, and Hanni are heads-down, phones out, completely lost in scrolling through pictures of ridiculously blue water and white sandy beaches. For these few minutes, market equilibrium and audio sync issues are ancient history. It's all about infinity pools, debating the merits of St. Lucia versus Barbados, and imagining days spent doing absolutely nothing but soaking up the sun until their brains finally feel less like scrambled eggs. School's out—mentally, at least—and the Caribbean dream is officially in.

—

You’re pacing the cramped little room—your dorm, technically, though it’s more of a closet with a bed and a desk shoved against the wall—waiting for her, trying to control a little the nervousness that always appears when you know she's coming. It’s not full-on nerves, just this antsy buzz under your skin, like you’re jonesing for a fix, and in a way, you are. Hanni’s been your hookup for months now, this casual thing that’s not really casual anymore, not with how bad you want her every time she’s near, and with her blatant possessiveness over you—not that you're complaining. The clock ticks past 4 p.m., and you’re wiping your palms on your jeans when the door swings open; no knock, no warning, just her. Hanni steps in, and fuck, she’s a knockout, same as always.

She’s got a college girl vibe dialed up, rocking this tiny plaid skirt, barely long enough to count as clothing, hugging her hips and showing off those legs—thick, smooth, the kind you wanna sink your teeth into. Her top’s a cropped hoodie, loose enough to flash a strip of her stomach when she moves. Her bangs are just adorable, a contrast to the look she's giving you.

Hanni doesn’t even say hi, just drops her bag by the door, crosses the three steps it takes to reach you, and crashes her mouth into yours. It’s hungry, sloppy, her lips soft, tasting faintly of cherry lip balm and whatever Monster she chugged on the way over. Her hands are already fisting your shirt, tugging you back toward the desk chair while she mutters against your teeth, “We gotta be quick—gotta meet the girls in, like, twenty.” You’re too busy kissing her back to argue, letting her pull you down into the seat, your hands sliding up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating off her skin.

She’s got you pinned there, straddling your lap before you can blink, and she’s yanking at your belt, fingers fumbling but determined. “Fuck, c’mon,” she huffs, and you help her out, unbuttoning your jeans, shoving them down just enough to free your cock, already hard, because how could it not be with her like this? She hikes her skirt up, flashing these lacy black panties she doesn’t even bother taking off—just shoves them to the side, and you catch a glimpse of how soaked she is, glistening in the dorm light.

Then she’s on you, sinking down slow at first, and you both let out this ragged, “Ohhh,” like you’ve been holding your breath for it all day. Her pussy’s tight, warm, so wet it’s obscene, and she’s clenching around you before she even starts moving. She leans in, breath hot against your ear, muttering, “Goddamn, I’ve been horny as shit all day—couldn’t stop thinking about this.” You groan, hands gripping her hips, feeling the way her skirt bunches up higher as she starts rocking against you. It’s fast, messy, her bouncing on your lap, the chair creaking under you like it’s about to give up.

Her tits are pressed against your chest, hoodie riding up, and you slide your hands under it, palming her through her bra, feeling her nipples harden under your thumbs. She’s panting, little gasps breaking up her words, “Can’t believe this is the last time ‘til—fuck—spring break. Gonna miss this dick so bad.” You thrust up into her, meeting her halfway, and she yelps, nails digging into your shoulders. “What you doing for break?” she asks, voice hitching as she grinds down hard, taking you deeper.

You’re trying to focus, but it’s a losing battle with her pussy squeezing you like that, slick and hot, dragging you to the edge already. “Dunno,” you manage, “haven’t figured it out yet—what about you?” She’s bouncing faster now, thighs flexing, skirt flapping, and she tosses her head back, laughing through a moan. “Me, Minji, Danielle—we’re fuckin’ off to St Lucia. Beaches, booze, everything we could ask for. Gonna be dope.” Her words are punctuated by the slap of her skin against yours, wet and loud in the tiny room, and you grin, thrusting harder just to hear her gasp again. “St Lucia? That’s sick,” you say, and she nods, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as she rides you. “Yeah, right? No classes, no campus—just us and some random-ass fun.” She clenches around you on purpose, smirking when you groan, and adds, “What you gonna do without me, huh? Jerk off to my texts all week?” You laugh, hands sliding to her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “Maybe. Gonna miss this—fucking you here, sneaking around. Best stress relief I’ve got.”

She’s grinning too, but it’s wobbly now, her rhythm faltering as she gets closer—you can feel it in how she’s tightening up, her breaths turning into these needy little whines. “Same,” she says, voice softer for a sec, almost sweet, before she catches herself and slams down harder, chasing it. “Fuck! I’m gonna miss this—your cock, this room, all of it.” The chair’s scraping the floor now, probably pissing off whoever’s below you, but you don’t care, she’s riding you like it’s the last time, and maybe it is for a while. Her skirt’s a crumpled mess around her waist, panties stretched to the side, and her hoodie’s slipping off one shoulder, giving you a peek at the sweat beading on her collarbone. You’re both loud—grunts, moans, the occasional “shit” or “fuck” slipping out between whatever half-assed conversation you’re trying to have. She’s soaked, dripping down your thighs, and you’re so close you can barely think straight, just thrusting up into her, letting her take what she wants.

“Fuck, Hanni,” you groan, “cum on my dick—c’mon, I wanna feel it.” She whines, head tipping back, and her bounces get sloppier, harder, the chair squeaking like it’s about to snap. Her moans kick up a notch, too loud, way too loud for this thin-walled dump, and you hiss, “Shit, keep it down, someone’s gonna hear us.” She gasps, tries to stifle it, but it’s no use. “I—I can’t, fuck, it’s too good,” she stammers, and then she’s done holding back—she slams down one more time, hard, and chokes out, “I’m gonna cum, oh fuck, I’m cumming!”

Her pussy clamps down on you like a vice, pulsing hot and wet, and she’s bouncing fast now, riding out the wave, her thighs trembling against your hips. You can feel her shaking, her whole body seizing up as she cums, a shudder ripping through her that makes her gasp and whimper your name—soft at first, then loud again, like she can’t help it. You pull her down, crash your mouth into hers, kissing her deep, swallowing those sounds as she grinds through it. Her lips are slick, desperate, and you break off just long enough to mutter, “You’re so fucking hot… Jesus, Hanni,” before diving back in, biting her bottom lip hard enough to make her hiss. She’s still twitching around you, aftershocks making her shudder, and then she slides off, slow, leaving you aching and hard, your cock slick with her. She drops to her knees between your legs, no hesitation, wrapping her fingers around you; small hands, chipped red nails, and gives you a couple lazy strokes.

“Gimme your cum,” she says, and then she’s on you, mouth closing over the tip, sucking hard. Her tongue flicks the underside, wet and warm, and she’s staring up at you, dark eyes locked on yours, unblinking, fucking devastating. It’s too much, the way she hollows her cheeks, bobs her head, hand twisting at the base while her lips slide down further, taking you deep. “C’mon,” she mumbles around you, muffled, “want it so bad—give it to me.” You’re gone, head tipping back against the chair, groaning low in your throat as she works you, relentless, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up. Her free hand’s on your thigh, nails digging in, and she’s begging with her eyes, her mouth, not stopping ‘til you’re right there. You feel it hit, this tight, hot rush, and you cum hard—ropes of it, thick and messy, spilling into her mouth. She doesn’t pull off, just takes it, swallowing as you go, and you mutter, “Fuck, I love watching you swallow me like this,” She pops off, licks her lips slow, deliberate, and grins. “Love the taste—salty, you, all of it,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand like it’s nothing.

You two don't waste any time, you’re tugging your jeans up, she’s smoothing her skirt down, but her panties are still crooked, and she doesn’t bother fixing them. Hanni climbs back onto your lap, not to fuck again, just to sit there, legs dangling over yours, catching her breath. It’s quiet for a sec, just the hum of the mini fridge in the corner, and then she leans her head against your shoulder, hair tickling your neck. “Thanks, y’know,” she says, soft, almost shy for once. “You’ve been a fucking lifesaver these past few months—keeping me sane after all the college bullshit.”

You wrap an arm around her, lazy, resting your hand on her hip. “Same here. You’re the only thing that’s kept me from losing my mind some days.” She laughs, quiet, nudging you with her elbow. “We're an eccentric duo, huh? But it works.” You nod, staring at the ceiling, feeling her warmth seep into you, this weird, comfortable closeness that’s snuck up on you both.

She shifts, sits up straighter, and you think she’s about to bounce out the door, she’s got that meeting with the girls soon, but she turns to you instead, skirt riding up again, flashing the edge of those wrecked panties. “So, what d’you think of the Caribbean?” She ask.

You shrug, still fuzzy from the orgasm, wiping a hand over your face. “Looks dope—beaches, food, all that. Why?” She grins and leans in close. “Come with us. Me, Danielle, Minji—we’re going, and you’d be great company. Keep things lively.” You blink, caught off guard, brain still half-fried. “Wait, what? You serious?” She nods, biting her lip, and it’s not just a throwaway invite, she’s deadass. “Yeah, dude. You’re fun as hell, and, I mean…” She trails off, smirks, lets the implication hang there. You picture it: Hanni, Danielle, Minji, you stuck in the middle of that trio, St Lucia sun beating down. It’s insane, but it’s perfect, too good to pass up. “Fuck it, I’m in,” you say, grinning back, and she lights up—full-on Hanni energy, clapping her hands once, loud. “Hell yeah! I’ll tell the girls—gonna text you details later. This is gonna be epic.” She hops off your lap, grabs her bag, but not before leaning down to kiss you quick. Then she’s out the door, skirt swishing, leaving you dazed and already counting down the days.

—

The cheap tequila is doing its job, loosening tension. The girls are crammed into a booth at the pub near the college. They ditched the library hours ago for lime wedges, salt, and rounds of golden liquor. The pub’s loud playlist thumps overhead, a backdrop to the chatter and clinking glasses. Empty shot glasses clutter the table between them, next to a rapidly disappearing basket of fries.

Minji leans back against the cracked vinyl booth seat, laughing loudly at something Danielle said, her cheeks flushed. Danielle leans forward over the table, an easy grin on her face, kicking a foot rhythmically against the booth base. Hanni leans back against the cushions, swirling the remaining tequila in her glass, watching her friends with warm, fuzzy fondness.

The relief is notorious: the trip is booked, flights confirmed, Airbnb secured. This weekend celebration feels earned, necessary. They've survived the academic trenches, and paradise awaits. Their corner of the pub hums with shared excitement as they shout slightly over the music, debating outfits, sunscreen SPFs, and foods to try when they arrived in St. Lucia.

Hanni takes another sip, the tequila warming her, making her feel bold. She needs this courage because, well, she has already invited you on the trip. Now she just has to pluck up the nerve to tell Minji and Danielle.

Mentally, she justifies it: The whole point of the trip is maximum relaxation, right? And she knows exactly who excels at top-tier stress relief. You. Just thinking about you, the heat that always sparks between you even during boring club meetings, sends a familiar warmth coiling through her, entirely separate from the tequila.

The hookups are casual, intense, and usually kept separate from her friendships, but the Caribbean feels like the perfect place to... integrate resources. Maximum relaxation needs maximum release, and honestly, no one delivers quite like you do. Your confidence, the way you look at her, how thorough you are... Yeah, a '10/10 wienering,' her brain helpfully supplies.

So, inviting you isn't selfish, she insists to herself. It's practical. A vital contribution to the mission objective: total fucking decompression. Now, to break the news…

"So," Hanni begins, setting her glass down on the sticky table with deliberate care, cutting through Minji's detailed description of the perfect beach towel. Both Danielle and Minji pause, turning their slightly glazed eyes towards her over the rims of their own glasses. "Speaking of... maximizing relaxation..." She lets the phrase hang there for a second, enjoying the tiny flicker of confusion on their faces. "I might have, uh... extended the invitation. To one more person."

Minji frowns slightly, leaning forward. "Wait, what? I think we agree... just us? Girls' trip? No distractions?"

Hanni waves a dismissive hand, trying to project breezy confidence over the pub noise. "Totally still a girls' trip! Mostly. But, like, think of this as... adding a vital resource. For stress management." She grins, letting a little of the mischief leak through. "I have invited him." She doesn't even need to say your name. The way she says 'him', the slight emphasis, the context, it hangs there in the noisy air.

Silence descends just between them. Danielle and Minji exchange a look across the table, a rapid-fire communication passing between them that Hanni can't quite decipher through her own buzz. She sees the gears turning, the slow dawning of comprehension. You. The guy from the Innovation Club. The one who sometimes joins their club when Hanni is there, the one Hanni occasionally disappears with after club meetings or social events, returning later looking flushed and rumpled but ridiculously happy. The one they maybe tease her about once or twice, getting only evasive smiles in return.

Danielle is the first to break the silence, her initial confusion melting into something else; curiosity, maybe even amusement. "Wait. Him him? From the club? The one with the..." She tilts her head, searching for a non-crude descriptor, "...charming smile?" A slow smirk spreads across her face. "Okay. Interesting. Very... resourceful, Hanni." She remembers those times Hanni texts vague excuses about 'running late' or 'working on the project' only to show up an hour later practically glowing, her hair slightly messy, biting back a smile. She recalls catching Hanni sneaking back into the dorm super early one morning after supposedly pulling an all-nighter at the Study Room, looking less exhausted and more thoroughly satisfied.

Suddenly, Hanni's 'stress management' comment clicks into sharp, vivid focus. "So that's where you disappear to," Danielle teases, leaning forward conspiratorially across the table. "Gotta admit, I always figure there is something going on there. You get this specific... smug look after you've supposedly been 'collaborating'." She laughs. "Okay, you know what? I'm not mad. He's hot, not gonna lie. And if he's gonna be focused on... de-stressing you… Maybe the ambient heat will benefit us all? Like relaxation by proxy?"

Minji is slower to come around, her expression more guarded. She takes another sip of her drink, considering. "Hold on," she says, her voice needing to rise slightly above the pub noise. "So, the plan is just us. Relaxing. Peace and quiet." She looks at Hanni across the table. "And now you've invited... your hookup? Doesn't that complicate things? What if it gets weird?" She remembers Hanni's occasional zoned-out bliss, the dreamy sighs after checking her phone, the sudden bursts of inexplicable euphoria. It makes sense now, annoyingly so. You are clearly effective. Still, the logistics... "It is supposed to be our escape, Han."

"It still is!" Hanni insists. "Think about it! He's super chill, you know he is. He helped us debug that presentation software last semester, remember? He's not gonna be some annoying dude trying to take over. He can handle himself. And yeah, okay, fine. He's... exceptionally good at the stress relief part. Like, really good. Which means I'll be less stressed, more relaxed, and way more fun to be around." She looks between them. "Isn't that contributing to the overall vibe? Plus," she adds, playing her trump card, "he has already booked his flight. Non-refundable."

That last part is a lie, but it sounds convincing.

Minji chews on her lip. Danielle is already nodding along, seemingly sold on the 'ambient heat' theory and your general attractiveness. Minji sighs, swirling her drink on the table. She can't deny Hanni's logic entirely. A happy, thoroughly de-stressed Hanni is definitely preferable. And she has to admit, you aren't hard on the eyes, and you've always been perfectly nice, even helpful, during those club interactions. Not the typical frat-bro type Danielle fears finding in Cancun. Maybe... maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe Danielle is right, maybe there are fringe benefits. A little extra eye candy, a different dynamic... It isn't the original plan, but the tequila is making her feel more flexible. "Fine," Minji concedes, trying to sound practical rather than intrigued, though a tiny smile plays on her lips despite herself. "Fine, he can come. But logistics. The Airbnb only has three bedrooms. So, just to be clear, he's rooming with you. No arguments."

Hanni beams, relief washing over her. "Obviously! Wouldn't have it any other way." She winks, picking up her shot glass from the table again. "See? Perfect plan. Maximum relaxation guaranteed. For everyone." She raises her glass. "To the Caribbean! And... vital resources."

Danielle laughs, clinking her glass against Hanni's across the table. "To vital resources!"

Minji sighs but clinks her glass too. "To not having to hear Hanni complain about being stressed, I guess." The noise of the pub, the tequila, the sheer giddy prospect of the trip, now with an unexpected, potentially spicy addition, settles over them, pushing aside the last vestiges of resistance. The 'girls' trip' has just taken a detour, and nobody seems truly upset about it anymore.

—

Spring break finally hits, washing away the hell that was midterms, late-night cramming, weeks of caffeine-fueled meltdowns, profs who clearly don't give a fuck and the club’s endless deadlines. It’s been a brutal stretch, but now it’s over, and the relief is practically physical.

Hanni’s been blowing up your phone since the invite, hyping this Caribbean trip like crazy, and you’re just as hyped, buzzing to ditch the gray campus grind for some actual sun. The girls have been prepping hard—Hanni sending packing pics—half her suitcase is bikinis and crop tops— Danielle dropping Insta stories of her shopping for “tropical fits,” and Minji being the quiet, practical one, texting Hanni about flight times and visa stuff like the group's unofficial mom.

You don’t actually see them ‘til the airport, though. When you roll up with your beat-up duffel slung over your shoulder, Hanni spots you first, sprinting across the terminal like she’s mainlining sugar, slamming into you with a hug that almost takes you out. “You made it!” she yells, arms locked around your neck, totally beaming. Her bangs bounces as she pulls back to look at you, eyes sparkling.

You return the hug. "Wouldn't miss it. Someone's gotta help manage all that stress, right?" You give her a squeeze before gently disentangling yourself enough to greet the others, though Hanni immediately links her arm through yours, leaning against your side possessively. Minji offers a small, polite smile, still looking a little tired but definitely less stressed than the last time you saw her surrounded by textbooks. "Hey," she says, adjusting the strap of her carry-on. "Glad you could make it. Try not to lose Hanni before we even board."

Then your eyes land on Danielle, and you do a slight double-take. Gone are the usual worn-out jeans and practical hoodie she practically lived in during that last disastrous Media Club budget meeting where you helped by analyzing some spreadsheets and trying to bring some light even though you are not a member. Instead, she’s wearing a long, flowing maxi dress alive with bright tropical flowers, paired with strappy sandals totally impractical for airport trekking but perfect for the destination. It catches the eye amidst the drab airport surroundings, making her look relaxed, almost like a different person. She grins, giving the flowy dress a little swish. "What do you think?" she asks, striking a mock pose. "Vacation Dani. Decided jeans are not the vibe for palm trees.”

"It looks awesome, Dani. Seriously suits you. Vacation Dani is gonna kill it." Her grin widens. "Thanks! That's the plan." Hanni tugs at your arm, reclaiming your attention. "Okay, okay, compliments later. Bags need dropping, security needs conquering, tropical drinks need acquiring." She practically drags you towards the check-in line, keeping up a running commentary about the questionable fashion choices of fellow passengers and her detailed plans for claiming the best beach chair upon arrival.

The check-in and security process is the usual purgatory of modern travel: shuffling lines, unpacking electronics, the mild humiliation of the full-body scanner, but the shared anticipation keeps spirits relatively high. Even Minji seems to be loosening up, pointing out a ridiculously oversized inflatable flamingo someone is trying to argue is a valid carry-on item. Danielle and Hanni dissolve into giggles. Finally, you're through, settling into the slightly less chaotic departure gate area. Hanni immediately claims the seat next to you, her thigh pressed against yours, occasionally resting her head on your shoulder while scrolling through pictures of St. Lucia on her phone, narrating potential activities. Danielle and Minji chat opposite you, Danielle already scouting the duty-free shops for bargain sunglasses. The flight itself is uneventful; cramped seats, a mediocre movie you watch half-heartedly with shared earbuds with Hanni, the strange sensation of hurtling through the sky miles above the earth. Hanni dozes off for a bit, her head heavy on your shoulder, soft breaths puffing against your neck. You look out the small window, watching the clouds drift below, the feeling of escape slowly starting to sink in.

Landing in St. Lucia is like stepping into a different world. The moment the plane doors hiss open, you're hit by a wall of warm, humid air thick with the scent of salt, tropical flowers, and something earthy and unfamiliar. It's a welcome shock after the recycled, chilled air of the plane and the lingering damp chill of back home. Sunlight streams through the airport windows, brighter and more intense than you're used to. The sounds are different too, the rhythm of Creole chatter, distant reggae music, birds calling outside. Everyone's skin seems kissed by the sun. Danielle practically skips down the air stairs, tilting her face up to the sun. Minji takes a deep breath. Hanni squeezes your hand, her eyes wide with wonder. "Okay, yeah," she breathes. "This was a good idea."

Clearing customs and grabbing your luggage feels less like a chore and more like the final hurdle before freedom. You pile into a slightly battered taxi van, the driver greeting you with a warm smile and launching into recommendations for local food spots. The drive to the Airbnb is a vibrant assault on the senses, winding roads curving through lush green hillsides dotted with brightly painted houses, glimpses of impossibly turquoise water flashing between palm trees, roadside fruit stands overflowing with colourful produce. The air rushing through the open windows carries the soundtrack of the island: laughter, music, an occasional bleating goat.

The Airbnb turns out to be pretty damn good. It's a spacious villa tucked away on a hillside, painted a cheerful coral colour. Inside, cool tile floors offer relief from the heat. There's a decent-sized living area with comfy-looking furniture, a functional kitchen, and best of all, a wide balcony overlooking a stretch of jungle that slopes down towards a distant slice of blue ocean. It might not be the five-star luxury of some resorts, but it feels authentic, private, and definitely relaxing. There are indeed three bedrooms, as planned. Danielle and Minji quickly claim the two smaller ones, leaving the largest, the one with the slightly better view from its window, for you and Hanni. Bags are dropped unceremoniously, shoes kicked off. The initial adrenaline rush of arrival starts to fade, replaced by the bone-deep weariness of travel.

Danielle yawns hugely, collapsing onto one of the sofas. "Okay, naptime," she declares. "My brain is officially offline until further notice." Minji nods in agreement, already heading towards her room. "Wake me if there's food. Or never." You follow Hanni into your designated room. It's simple but clean, with a big queen-sized bed dominating the space. Hanni wastes no time, unbuttoning her pants and taking them off hurriedly, rummaging through her bag until she finally finds her comfortable shorts and puts them on, then she flops face-down onto the mattress with a groan of pure exhaustion. "Bed," she mumbles into the comforter. "Sweet, stationary bed." You drop your bag and stretch, feeling the kinks in your back from the long flight. Kicking off your own shoes, you lie down on the bed next to her, the coolness of the sheets a small blessing. The sounds of the island drift in through the open window; cicadas buzzing, distant surf, unfamiliar bird calls.

It's peaceful, a world away from campus life.

Hanni rolls over to face you, propping her head up on her hand. Even exhausted, her eyes are sparkling. "So," she whispers. "Excited to be here? Finally?" You smile back, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Definitely. Place is amazing. You picked well." Her smile widens. "We picked well," she corrects, then scoots a little closer. "And... you know Dani thinks you're hot, right? She literally said it when we were drunk in the pub talking about bringing you here. And Minji... she was trying to play it cool, but I saw her checking you out at the gate." A familiar warmth sparks in your belly despite the fatigue. Hanni's eyes flick down to your lips for a second, then back up. "Just... possibilities, you know? For maximizing the stress relief." Her fingers trace a light pattern on your arm.

You lean in slightly. "And you'd be okay with... sharing the stress relief?"

Her gaze holds yours. "As long as I get first dibs," she murmurs, her lips brushing yours for a fleeting moment. "And second dibs. And probably thirds. And as long as I get to join in whenever I feel like it." She yawns then, a wide, jaw-cracking yawn that breaks the spell slightly. "But mostly," she adds, her eyes fluttering closed, "right now I need sleep." You chuckle, pulling the light sheet over both of you. "Sleep sounds good." The exhaustion finally wins, pulling you both down into the welcome darkness, the teasing possibilities left hanging, waiting for the Caribbean sun and rested bodies to bring them to life.

—

The first thing you register is warmth, a comfortable weight pressing down on your chest, and the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing near your ear. You crack open an eye, the afternoon sun filtering through the slats of the blinds, painting stripes of gold across the simple room. Your body feels amazing: deeply rested, completely unwound from the cramped flight and the lingering stress of campus life. The nap wasn't just a nap; it was a full system reboot. Beneath you, the mattress feels solid, stationary, a welcome contrast to the hours spent hurtling through the sky. You shift slightly, and the weight on you stirs. Hanni mumbles something incoherent into your t-shirt, nuzzling closer like a cat seeking heat. Her dark hair tickles your chin, smelling faintly of coconut shampoo and airplane air. One of her legs is hooked over yours, her arm slung possessively across your ribs. Even in sleep, she’s staked her claim. You carefully lift a hand, gently brushing strands of hair away from her face. She looks peaceful, younger somehow without the usual spark of manic energy animating her features. The exhaustion is gone from her face too, replaced by the soft flush of deep sleep. It’s nice, seeing this quiet side of her, but a bigger part of you is already buzzing, eager to get out there and actually experience this place. St. Lucia is waiting just outside that window.

Hanni stirs again, blinking slowly. Her eyes focus on you, still clouded with sleep for a second before recognition dawns, followed swiftly by a lazy, satisfied smile that makes something warm curl in your stomach. "Mmm, morning," she murmurs. "Or... afternoon? Whatever. You feel comfy." She stretches languidly, her body arching against yours. The thin sheet barely conceals the curves you know are hiding underneath, curves she apparently might be willing to share later, according to her sleepy pre-nap proposition.

"Best nap ever," she adds, yawning wide. "Did I drool on you? Sorry if I drooled." You chuckle, shaking your head. "Nah, you're good. Slept like the dead." You gently nudge her. "But I think the island's calling. Pretty sure I heard a palm tree whispering my name." Hanni giggles, finally rolling off you, though she immediately props herself up on an elbow, her gaze tracing the line of your jaw. "Okay, okay, I'm up. Mostly." She swings her legs over the side of the bed, stretching again, this time showing off the curve of her spine and the slight swell of her hips in the sleep shorts.

"Food first? I think my stomach digested itself while we were out." You nod, already swinging your own legs out. "Food sounds essential. Then maybe figure out what Dani and Minji are up to." You glance towards your bag, thinking about clothes. The heat radiating from outside the window demands something light. You pull out a pair of comfortable shorts and a thin linen shirt, definitely more tropical than the jeans you flew in. As you start changing, Hanni rummages through her own bag, pulling out a brightly colored sundress. Underneath, you glimpse the strap of a bikini top. Seems everyone had the same idea about being beach-ready at a moment's notice. "Think they survived the nap?" Hanni asks, slipping the dress over her head. "Dani looked like she was about to hibernate for a week. And Minji... well, Minji always looks like she needs more sleep."

You find Danielle and Minji already in the living area, looking significantly more human than when you last saw them. Dani’s wearing denim shorts and a loose tank top, tapping away on her phone. Minji, dressed in light linen pants and a simple white top, is peering into the fridge. "Morning, sunshine," Danielle chirps without looking up. "Or, you know, afternoon sunshine. Find anything edible in there, Minj?" Minji shakes her head, closing the fridge door with a sigh. "Snacks from the flight and half a bottle of water. We definitely need provisions. Or, ideally, someone else making us breakfast." Hanni bounces into the room, radiating recovered energy. "Breakfast out! My treat. Consider it a 'thank you for letting me bring my favorite stress-reliever' brunch." She winks broadly at you, then loops her arm through yours again.

Danielle finally looks up, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Oooh, a thank-you brunch? I accept. Especially if the stress-reliever is buying coffee." You laugh, raising your hands in mock surrender. "Coffee, food, whatever you guys want. Lead the way." Minji grabs her sunglasses from the table. "Okay, but somewhere with actual shade, please? My eyes are still adjusting to not staring at a screen."

Finding a breakfast spot isn't hard. You wander down the winding road from the villa, the casual pace feels alien after the usual campus rush. You end up at a small, open-air cafe overlooking a marina filled with bobbing sailboats. Brightly colored fishing boats chug past further out, leaving white wakes on the impossibly blue water. The vibe is incredibly chill. You order fresh juices, strong coffee, and plates piled high with eggs, local fruit, and something called 'bake'; a fried bread that's ridiculously tasty. Conversation flows easily, mostly rehashing the horrors of midterms now that they're safely in the rearview mirror, speculating about the expensive resort Hanni initially found, and Danielle telling—first time for you, thousandth time for the girls—the story of the day she bleached and cut her hair.

"Seriously," she says, gesturing emphatically with her fork, "the stylist kept saying 'are you sure?' like I was asking her to tattoo her name on my forehead. It's just hair! It grows back!"

Minji chuckles, sipping her mango juice. "That was an amazing transformation, Dani. Really. Very... un-academic." Hanni nods vigorously. "Totally! You looked like you belonged on that yacht over there." She points towards a sleek white vessel gliding into the marina. You lean back in your chair, sipping your coffee, just listening to them banter. It feels good, normal, surprisingly easy to just be here with them. Hanni keeps leaning into your space, her shoulder brushing yours, her hand occasionally finding yours under the table for a quick squeeze. It’s comfortable, familiar, but you also catch Danielle watching the interaction with open amusement, while Minji glances over occasionally with an expression that’s harder to read… maybe curiosity, maybe just observation.

After breakfast, fueled by caffeine and carbs, the consensus is to explore a bit before hitting the beach. You wander through the nearby town, a vibrant collection of pastel-painted buildings, bustling markets selling spices and woven baskets, and locals calling out friendly greetings. You duck into a few shops selling touristy trinkets, laughing at the ridiculous t-shirts. Danielle buys a pair of cheap, oversized sunglasses shaped like pineapples, declaring them essential for "Vacation Dani's aesthetic". Minji seems genuinely interested in a stall selling handmade jewelry, carefully examining delicate shell necklaces. Hanni drags you over to look at bright pareos, holding a turquoise one up against you. "This color would look amazing on you," she insists. "Matches your eyes... almost." You deflect, laughing, but the easy intimacy of the gesture isn't lost on you, or on the other two who watch with matching smiles.

You grab some bottles of water and eventually find yourselves near one of the island’s famous landmarks: the Pitons, two majestic volcanic peaks rising almost cinematically from the sea. You don't hike them, opting instead for a viewpoint that offers stunning panoramic views. The sheer scale of them is breathtaking, green slopes plunging down to the sparkling blue water. Naturally, this calls for photos. Danielle immediately takes charge, directing poses. "Okay, group shot! Squeeze in! Hanni, stop trying to climb onto his back." More laughter. You snap pictures of the girls with the Pitons as a backdrop, individual shots, selfies. Danielle insists on taking several of you and Hanni together, positioning you close, making Hanni wrap her arms around your waist from behind. "Perfect!" she declares, reviewing the shot on her phone. "Look how cute you two are. Disgustingly cute." Hanni beams, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder blade before pulling away. You feel a flush creep up your neck, partly from the heat, partly from the casual display in front of the others. Minji watches, leaning against the railing, sunglasses hiding her eyes, but the corner of her mouth is tilted up in a small smile.

Finally, the call of the ocean becomes too strong to ignore. You find a stretch of beach recommended by the cafe owner—a crescent of soft, pale sand fringed by swaying palm trees. It’s definitely popular; colorful umbrellas dot the sand, families splash in the shallows, and couples stroll along the water's edge. It's lively, but not overwhelmingly crowded like you feared Cancun might be. Music drifts from a nearby beach bar. This is exactly what everyone needed. Without much ceremony, the girls start shedding their outer layers. Hanni’s sundress comes off to reveal a vibrant orange bikini, the top simple triangles, the bottoms cut high on her hips, emphasizing their curve. She might be the shortest, but her body is compact and seriously juicy, and seeing those curves again, now in a new light, is refreshing; those slightly wide hips, the soft curve of her belly above the bikini bottom, all perfectly proportioned. She shakes her hair out, grinning at you cheekily.

Danielle ditches her shorts and tank top for a sleek black bikini. It’s more athletic in style, but holy shit. The top has intricate straps across the back, and the bottoms sit low, showcasing a defined abs that ripple as she moves. She’s leaner than Hanni, but all tight curves and toned muscle. She catches you looking and strikes another playful pose, hand on her hip. "Eyes up here, buddy," she teases, though her own gaze flickers down your torso for a split second.

Then Minji unfolds from her linen layers. Her choice is a deep emerald green two-piece. The top is minimalist, barely there, highlighting the elegant line of her collarbones and, yeah, confirming Hanni’s assessment—definitely small, a little bigger than Dani's, which you happen to appreciate. But the bottoms... they’re cut perfectly to showcase what is undeniably a spectacular ass. She’s taller than the others, with a thicker build, unpretentiously hot in a way that’s incredibly appealing. She turns to grab her towel, giving you an unimpeded view that makes your mouth go slightly dry.

Damn. The three of them together, bathed in the Caribbean sun, shedding the last vestiges of their student identities, are a fucking revelation.

Feeling the heat yourself, and suddenly very aware of being the only one still fully clothed, you pull your linen shirt off over your head, tossing it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes and towels. Hanni lets out an appreciative little hum. Danielle whistles softly. Minji just raises an eyebrow before she turns towards the water. "Last one in buys the first round of rum punch!" Danielle yells, already sprinting towards the turquoise waves. Hanni shrieks with laughter and takes off after her, splashing loudly as she hits the shallows. You exchange a quick glance with Minji. A silent challenge passes between you. You both break into a run, pounding across the warm sand, the sheer joy of the moment infectious.

You hit the water just behind Danielle, the cool rush a welcome shock against your hot skin. Hanni surfaces beside you, spluttering and laughing, immediately splashing you in the face. An impromptu water fight breaks out, devolving quickly into dunking attempts and general chaos. You find yourself wrestling playfully with Hanni, easily overpowering her small frame until Danielle teams up with her, both of them trying to drag you under while Minji watches from a few feet away, a genuine, wide smile finally gracing her face as she ducks a stray splash. You surrender, laughing, letting them dunk you before coming up sputtering. The water is crystal clear, the perfect temperature. Floating on your back, looking up at the vast blue sky, the stress feels like a distant memory, something that happened to someone else in another life.

Later, you all buy coconut water from a vendor walking the beach, sipping the cool liquid straight from the shells. You find some lounge chairs under a palm tree, settling in to dry off and just soak it all in. The conversation is relaxed, interspersed with comfortable silences. You talk about music, shitty campus jobs, travel dreams. Hanni leans against your chair, tracing patterns on your knee. Danielle scrolls through the photos she took earlier, narrating potential Instagram captions. Minji surprises you by asking about your work in the Innovation Club, showing genuine interest in the projects you mentioned offhand. You find yourself talking easily, sharing stories, laughing at their anecdotes. Every so often, your gaze drifts—to the curve of Hanni’s hip as she shifts, the way the sun glints off Danielle’s damp dark hair, the smooth expanse of Minji’s back as she reapplies sunscreen. And sometimes, you catch them looking back—Hanni’s gaze possessive and warm, Danielle’s open and appraising, Minji’s quick and thoughtful before flicking away. It’s not awkward, not yet anyway. It just... is. A current of awareness underneath the easy camaraderie. You feel yourself relaxing into the group, not just as Hanni’s plus-one, but as part of this specific configuration, here on this island.

The walk back to the villa is slower, limbs heavy with sun and salt water fatigue, but spirits are high. Sand seems to have infiltrated every possible crevice. You carry a bag heavy with takeout containers from a local spot the beach vendor recommended—grilled fish, rice and peas, fried plantains—the smell mingling with the lingering scent of sunscreen on your skin. Back inside the cool tiled haven of the Airbnb, it's a synchronized operation born of shared exhaustion. Food is dumped on the kitchen counter, bags are dropped, and a silent agreement is reached: showers first, then sustenance. You take turns, the spray washing away the grit and salt, leaving your skin tingling and refreshed. You change into fresh clothes; comfortable shorts and a clean t-shirt. When you emerge, the girls are gradually doing the same.

Hanni appears in a short, flowy white dress that leaves her shoulders bare, her damp hair slicked back. Danielle rocks a pair of ripped black jeans and a fitted band tee. Minji opts for a simple, dark purple maxi dress that emphasizes her height and clings subtly to her curves; she’s added a touch of dark lipstick that makes her mouth look incredibly plush. They all look fantastic, relaxed and glowing from the day in the sun, the weariness replaced by a comfortable, post-beach languor. You gather around the table, tearing into the takeout containers with minimal ceremony, conversation punctuated by satisfied groans and the clinking of forks.

Later, showered, fed, and buzzing with a pleasant tiredness, the energy shifts again. The quiet relaxation of the villa feels too contained for the lingering holiday buzz. "Okay," Hanni announces, pushing her empty container away. "Food coma is setting in. We need libations. And music that isn't just cicadas." Danielle nods eagerly. "Beach bar? I saw one on the walk back that looked like it had potential. Fairy lights and everything." Minji shrugs. "Sounds good. As long as they have something other than rum punch. I think I'm still tasting coconut from this afternoon." So, you head out again, walking down the now-darkening road towards the sound of faint music and the rhythmic crash of waves.

The seaside bar is exactly as Danielle described: strings of fairy lights draped between palm trees, low wooden tables scattered across a sandy floor just yards from the water's edge, a gentle breeze carrying the salt spray. Reggae music drifts from speakers, loud enough to feel but not so loud you have to shout. It’s perfect. You find a table slightly away from the main bar area, offering a bit more privacy and a clear view of the moonlit ocean. The first round of drinks arrives quickly, potent cocktails in various shades of pink and orange for the girls, a cold beer for you. The alcohol hits faster this time, layering nicely onto the residual relaxation from the sun and the satisfying meal. Laughter comes easier, conversation flows looser. Hanni kicks off her sandals under the table, her bare foot brushing against your calf. Danielle leans back, surveying the scene with a satisfied grin. Minji seems more animated, joining the banter more readily.

Another round arrives. The initial chatter about the day's adventures starts to fade, replaced by a more intimate, charged energy fueled by the booze and the proximity under the dim lights. Hanni, never one to shy away, leans forward, resting her chin on her hands, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looks directly at you. "Okay, serious question time," she suddenly announces, drawing the others' attention. She gestures vaguely between Danielle and Minji. "Them. Hot, right?" The question hangs there, blunt and direct. Danielle raises an eyebrow, a slow, amused smirk spreading across her face. Minji freezes for a split second, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly before she quickly looks down into her drink, though you see a faint blush creep up her neck.

You feel your own cheeks warm slightly, caught off guard but also weirdly pleased by Hanni’s boldness. You take a slow sip of your beer, meeting Hanni's challenging gaze. "Uh, yeah," you manage. "Obviously. They're both gorgeous." Hanni beams, clearly satisfied with phase one.

"Obviously," she echoes. "But details, details! What do you like most?" She leans in closer, conspiratorial. "Come on, don't be shy. We're all friends here... very good friends." Danielle leans forward too, her expression purely curious, maybe a little flattered. Minji keeps her eyes fixed on her drink, but she’s definitely listening, the blush deepening slightly. You feel put on the spot, but the alcohol buzz makes you bolder than usual. You glance at Danielle first. "Okay, uh... Dani?" You meet her amused gaze. "Your smile. Seriously. It’s like... super bright? Lights up your whole face. It’s really charming."

Danielle's smirk softens into a genuine, pleased grin. "Aww, thanks!" she says, actually looking a little bashful for a moment. Then you turn your attention to Minji, who still isn’t looking up. "And Minji..." You pause, gathering your thoughts. "Your lips." Her head snaps up at that, her eyes meeting yours. "They’re... really nice," you continue, feeling a bit awkward but pushing on. "Like, really plump. It gives a special touch to your face. And that lipstick you've got on tonight? Looks amazing." Minji’s blush flares again, reaching her ears this time, but she doesn’t look away. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touches the lips you just complimented.

Hanni claps her hands together softly. "See? Knew you had good taste! And her lips aren't just nice to look at," she adds, leaning towards you again. "They're super soft too." You frown slightly, playing along, though Hanni’s earlier hints are clicking into place. "Oh yeah? And how would you know that?" Hanni grins wickedly, her eyes flicking towards Minji, who quickly looks away again, though the small smile lingers. "Because I've kissed them, obviously!" she declares matter-of-factly, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Danielle bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, Han! Just drop it on him like that!" She turns to you, shaking her head. "No subtlety, this one." Hanni shrugs nonchalantly. "What? It's true. Right, Minj?" Minji mumbles something into her drink that sounds vaguely affirmative, still blushing furiously but not denying it.

"Wait, really?" you ask, genuinely surprised by the casual confirmation. Hanni nods. "Uh-huh. Long story. Involved too much cheap wine and a really bad rom-com marathon sophomore year." Danielle pipes up. "Ooh! You know what? Minji should give him a little demo! Just a peek!" Hanni grins. "Yeah, Minj! Show him how soft they are!" Minji looks horrified, her eyes darting between Hanni and Danielle. "No! Guys, stop!" she protests, but there's no real heat behind it, mostly flustered embarrassment.

"Come on," you coax gently, leaning slightly towards her across the table, emboldened by the alcohol and the sheer unexpectedness of the situation. "Just a quick one? For science?" She hesitates, biting her lip, the one you just complimented, then lets out a tiny sigh of defeat, glancing quickly at Hanni and Danielle's encouraging faces. "Okay, fine," she whispers, sounding resigned but maybe a tiny bit intrigued too. "Just... fast." You both lean forward across the small table, the space between you suddenly charged. Her eyes meet yours for a fraction of second before fluttering closed. You press your lips gently against hers. Hanni was right. They are incredibly soft, plush, tasting faintly of her fruity cocktail and that dark lipstick. It’s barely a kiss, just a soft, brief pressure, over almost as soon as it begins. You both pull back simultaneously, Minji immediately grabbing her drink and taking a large gulp, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, though the blush on her cheeks is now practically neon. Danielle and Hanni are practically vibrating with glee. "See?!" Hanni exclaims triumphantly. "Told you!"

The brief kiss seems to break some kind of barrier. Danielle leans forward, her expression shifting from amusement to genuine curiosity. "Okay, so now that we're all being honest... dish. You and Hanni." She gestures between you. "What's the deal? Like, what's she really like?" Minji looks up, her curiosity apparently overcoming her embarrassment. Hanni squirms slightly but looks at you expectantly. The question hangs there. They want the details. You glance at Hanni, who gives you a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Permission granted.

"She's..." you start, choosing your words carefully, mindful of the audience but wanting to be honest. "She likes to give up control. A lot." You pause, seeing Hanni's cheeks flush slightly but her eyes stay fixed on you. "Definitely submissive. And... needy. Like, really needy sometimes. In a good way," you quickly add. Hanni bites her lip, looking down at the table but not protesting. "Okay, yeah, fine," she mumbles. "That's... true." She looks up, meeting your eyes, a flicker of heat there. "And I like getting my ass slapped," she adds suddenly, defiantly, looking around the table. "Like, really hard sometimes." Danielle nods sagely. "Oh, we know, honey. We've heard the complaints about bruises." Hanni throws a napkin at her. Danielle laughs again, then turns back to you, her gaze sharp. "She's also really good with her mouth, though, right?" Her tone is casual, but the implication is clear. "Best head on campus, probably."

You feel your own face flush this time, but you can't exactly deny it. "Uh... yeah," you confirm, clearing your throat. "Yeah, she definitely is." You look at Danielle, a sudden suspicion dawning. "Wait a minute... how do you know? Have you two...?" Before you can even finish the question, Danielle cuts you off with a nod and a grin. "Yep." Hanni chimes in, waving her hand dismissively like it's old news. "Oh my god, babe, catch up. We've all hooked up. With each other. Multiple times."

You stare at her, then at Danielle, then at Minji, who is suddenly looking intensely interested in a scratch on the tabletop. "Wait. All of you? Even... Minji?" The idea seems incongruous with the shy girl who blushed at a compliment about her lips just moments ago. Danielle bursts out laughing again, louder this time. "Him asking about Minji! That's rich!" Hanni leans towards you again, lowering her voice dramatically. "Don't let the quiet act fool you. Seriously. This one?" She jerks her head towards Minji. "She's the worst of the lot. Total freak." Minji finally looks up, swatting weakly at Hanni's arm. "Hanni! Stop it!" she protests, but she’s giggling now, the blush returning with a vengeance. "It's true!" Danielle insists gleefully. "She's a total gooner! Seriously, if you saw her private Twitter account, you'd lose your mind. It's nothing but porn. Wall-to-wall." You look from Danielle's laughing face to Minji's mortified-but-giggling one.

"No way," you say, shaking your head. "I don't believe you." Hanni's eyes light up. "Oh yeah? Prove it, Minj! Show him!" Danielle chimes in, "Yeah, Minji, show him your shame!" Everyone is definitely several drinks deep now, the teasing fueled by alcohol and the increasingly charged atmosphere. Minji groans, hiding her face in her hands for a second. "Oh my god, you guys are the worst." But then she peeks through her fingers, looking at your skeptical face, then back at her grinning friends. A drunken shrug overtakes her embarrassment. "Ugh, fine! Whatever! Don't judge me!" She fumbles for her phone, unlocks it with slightly unsteady fingers, navigates somewhere, and then pushes the phone across the table towards you, refusing to watch your reaction.

You pick up the phone hesitantly. And holy shit. Danielle wasn't exaggerating. It's an Twitter feed, alright, but the timeline is an endless scroll of hardcore pornography. Just post after post. There's a lot of lesbian content, scenes featuring girls who look vaguely like college students, often involving strap-on use that looks surprisingly intense. There are clips of girls in clearly submissive roles, scenes heavy on BDSM elements—spanking, bondage, orgasm denial. You even scroll past some graphic bukkake clips and numerous retweets from other accounts that were clearly thirsty gooners just like her, It's... a lot. A very specific, surprisingly intense collection. You scroll for a few moments, genuinely taken aback but also undeniably intrigued. This quiet, reserved girl has this bubbling beneath the surface? You slide the phone back across the table to Minji, who snatches it back quickly, her face flaming.

You look at her, seeing her in a completely new light. Hanni leans forward eagerly. "So? What do you think? Pretty wild, right?" You take another swig of beer, your mind racing slightly, trying to reconcile the shy girl from earlier with the curator of that feed. "Yeah," you admit. "Wow. I... I liked it." You meet Minji's wide eyes, then glance at Danielle, then Hanni. "I like all of you," you clarify. Minji, emboldened by alcohol and perhaps the exposure of her secret, takes a deep breath and blurts out, "Okay, all this talk... it's kinda making me really horny." A beat of silence follows her confession, then Hanni and Danielle explode into laughter, not mocking, but relieved, echoing the sentiment. "Girl, same!" Danielle exclaims, fanning herself dramatically. Hanni's foot, which had been playing footsie with your calf, slides higher, pressing deliberately against the inside of your thigh. "Tell me about it," she murmurs, looking straight at you.

Then, subtly, almost imperceptibly to anyone not paying attention, her hand disappears beneath the edge of the table. You feel a sudden warmth brush against your leg, followed by the unmistakable pressure of her fingers closing around you through the fabric of your shorts. You were already semi-hard from the conversation and Minji’s surprising revelation, but Hanni’s direct touch sends a shockwave straight through you. Her grip is firm, knowing, squeezing rhythmically, chasing away any remaining shred of drunken haze, replacing it with focused heat. Your cock leaps against her palm, instantly thick and fully hard, straining against the confinement of your shorts. She lets out a low hum of approval, her thumb stroking slowly over the rigid head through the material. Her eyes don't leave yours as she leans in slightly, her voice a low murmur just for you, though the others are definitely watching now, their own conversations faltering. "Someone else feeling horny too?" she asks. Her fingers tighten again, emphasizing the point. You nod, unable to trust your voice for a second, swallowing hard.

"Yes," you manage, the word rough. "A lot." Her lips curve into a slow, predatory smile. "Good," she whispers. "Think you might want to help us... get some release? We seem to be having a bit of a problem." She glances meaningfully at Danielle and Minji, who are both watching the interaction intently. You look at them, then back at Hanni's hand clamped firmly around your erection. There’s no hesitation. "Yeah," you say. "Yeah, I would."

"All of us, though?" Dani asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "That's a lot of... stress relief needed. Think you can handle the workload?" You meet her gaze squarely, feeling a surge of confidence fueled by the alcohol, the blatant desire from all three girls, and the throbbing hardness currently being expertly manipulated under the table. "Don't worry about me," you assure her, letting a smirk touch your lips. "I can handle it." Danielle studies you for a moment, then a slow grin spreads across her face. She nods once, decisively. "Okay then," she says, pushing her chair back slightly. "Convinced. Let's blow this popsicle stand." Hanni removes her hand, leaving you aching and overly sensitive, and immediately flags down the server. The bill is settled quickly, a blur of crumpled bills and credit cards amidst giddy, slightly slurred instructions.

The walk back to the villa is something else. Hands brush accidentally-on-purpose, glances linger far too long, bursts of nervous laughter bubble up and fade just as quickly. You're hyper-aware of Hanni pressed against your side, Danielle walking slightly ahead but looking back frequently with that challenging grin, and Minji trailing just behind, her eyes fixed on you with an unnerving focus.

—

Inside, the door barely clicks shut before the fragile dam of drunken restraint breaks. It's not a frantic rush, but a magnetic pull. Eyes lock, breaths hitch. Without a word, you all seem to gravitate towards the back of the villa, towards the room you're sharing with Hanni, the one with the bigger bed. Inside the room, the dim light spilling from the hallway casts long shadows. Hanni kicks the door shut. The click echoes in the sudden quiet. Then, they turn to you as one.

"Sit," Danielle commands, pointing towards the large bed dominating the room. You obey, perching on the edge, your heart hammering against your ribs, your cock already aching behind your zipper. They converge on you, a wave of perfume, booze, and female heat. Hands are everywhere, immediately working at the buttons of your shirt, the buckle of your belt. Hanni leans in, her lips finding yours in a demanding kiss, tongue plunging deep, tasting like sweet cocktails and pure need. Simultaneously, Danielle is working on your shorts, her knuckles brushing against your thigh, while Minji’s surprisingly cool fingers are undoing your belt buckle with fumbling but determined movements. Kisses land on your jaw, your neck, interspersed with soft murmurs and pleased little sounds as your shirt comes off, tossed carelessly onto the floor. They pull back slightly to wrestle your shorts and boxers down your legs, clumsy in their eagerness. And then you're naked, sitting on the edge of the bed, fully exposed under their combined gaze.

A collective intake of breath follows. Their eyes drop to your cock, now completely hard and jutting proudly upwards, thick and heavy in the dim light. "Holy shit," Danielle breathes, her eyes wide. Minji just stares, her lips slightly parted, her earlier blush returning. Hanni beams, puffing her chest out slightly, a ridiculous wave of proprietary pride washing over her flushed face. "Told you," she says smugly. She reaches out, her fingers gently cupping your balls, weighing them in her palm before tracing a single finger up the thick, straining shaft. You groan involuntarily at the touch. Then, as quickly as they converged, they pull back, leaving you momentarily alone on the bed, throbbing and exposed.

They exchange glances, a silent, giddy agreement passing between them. And then their clothes start coming off. It’s not a polished performance; it’s a clumsy, drunken, utterly captivating strip tease. Hanni fumbles with the zipper on the back of her white dress, giggling as Danielle reaches over to help her, their fingers brushing, sparking little smiles. The dress pools at her feet, revealing her red panties and bra. Minji pulls her maxi dress over her head in one smooth motion, her dark hair falling across her face for a second before she shakes it back, revealing simple dark underwear beneath. Danielle makes a show of unbuttoning her band tee slowly, teasingly, before peeling it off, then struggling for a comical moment with the button on her tight shorts, hopping slightly. You can't help yourself; the sight is overwhelming. Your hand finds your own cock, slicking unconsciously back and forth, a gentle pressure trying to alleviate the almost painful tightness in your groin as you watch them.

Layer by layer, the clothes disappear. Hanni peels off her bra, revealing familiar, medium, perky breasts, her nipples already tight little buds, a slightly lighter shade of pinkish-brown. Her bottoms follow, showcasing those juicy hips and the soft curve of her stomach. You know her body well, every curve, every freckle, but seeing her reveal herself alongside the others, the anticipation of finally tasting what she’s offered, makes her look brand new, utterly delicious. Danielle steps out of her shorts and removes her bra and panties skillfully, tossing them aside. Her body is exactly as advertised by that bikini—lean, toned muscle, tight curves, that incredibly sculpted stomach, and an ass that’s high, round, and practically begging to be grabbed. Her breasts are small and firm, fitting perfectly with her athletic frame.

Then Minji. She slips off her dark bra and panties with less fanfare but no less impact. Her body is softer than Danielle's, taller, with that amazing thickness that you could glimpse on the beach. Her ass is spectacular, full and round, contrasting beautifully with her narrow waist. And as she turns slightly, you notice it, unlike the others, Minji has a neatly trimmed patch of dark pubic hair, a small, perfect triangle that somehow looks incredibly erotic, drawing your eye right to the juncture of her thighs. Her nipples are puffy like Hanni’s, tight points betraying her arousal, but darker, a deep brown against her paler skin. Naked, flushed, slightly unsteady on their feet but radiating pure heat, they stand before you, a breathtaking trio of distinctly beautiful, completely desirable girls.

The hesitation evaporates. They move towards the bed again, converging on you. This time, the kisses are frantic, hungry. All three mouths descend on yours at once, a confusing, exhilarating tangle of tongues, teeth, and soft lips. You taste Hanni's familiar sweetness, Danielle's minty gum underneath the alcohol, Minji's dark lipstick and fruity cocktail. It’s overwhelming, chaotic, pure sensation. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they shift, allowing for more individual attention. Danielle kisses you hard, her hand gripping the back of your neck, before pulling away slightly, breathless. Minji follows, her kiss surprisingly bold, her plump lips pressing firmly against yours, her tongue exploring tentatively. Then Hanni takes over again, slower this time, deeper, staking her claim before finally pulling back, leaving you gasping, your lips tingling. Without a word, Minji and Danielle slide off the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs on the cool tile floor. Their eyes meet yours for a split second—Danielle’s full of playful fire, Minji’s dark and intense, her earlier shyness completely burned away by booze and lust.

Then, they lower their heads. The first touch is electric—Minji’s soft lips closing around the base of your shaft while Danielle flicks her tongue experimentally over the sensitive tip. A wave of heat washes over you, so intense it makes your vision swim for a second. Hanni, meanwhile, clambers onto the bed beside you, straddling your leg, and leans down, her hot mouth closing over one of your nipples, sucking hard. She knows exactly how much you love that, the sharp pleasure radiating through your chest. Below, Minji starts licking slowly up the shaft, her movements deliberate, coating you in saliva, while Danielle focuses on swirling her tongue around the head, occasionally taking the entire glans into her mouth. Watching Minji’s plump, dark-lipstick-smudged lips wrap around your cock is insanely hot, almost surreal after the earlier conversation. She makes a low sound of appreciation in her throat, then shifts her focus, her tongue darting out to lave your balls, taking one into her warm mouth while Danielle takes over the full length of your shaft, her throat working expertly. Hanni keeps sucking, occasionally biting gently, sending sparks down your spine.

Your head is thrown back against the headboard, eyes half-lidded, lost in the onslaught of sensation. Minji’s lips and tongue are working magic on your balls, swirling, sucking gently, driving you insane. Danielle has the entire length of your shaft engulfed, her throat working expertly, bobbing up and down with practiced rhythm. The friction, the wet heat, it’s almost unbearable. Hanni finally releases your nipple, leaving it wet and hypersensitive, and slides down your body to join the others.

"Move over," she murmurs, nudging Minji slightly. "Sharing is caring." Minji glances up, lipstick thoroughly smeared, a dazed, hungry look in her eyes, and shifts slightly, giving Hanni access. Now it's pure lust, three mouths devoted entirely to your cock. Hanni focuses on the base, her tongue mimicking Minji’s earlier attention to your balls while her lips create a tight seal. Minji works the mid-section, her plump lips sliding up and down, while Danielle maintains her relentless assault on the head. You groan, a low, guttural sound torn from your throat, arching off the bed slightly.

"Fuck," Danielle gasps, pulling off for a second, leaving a trail of saliva glistening on your skin. "He tastes so good." Minji nods vigorously, licking her lips slowly as she eyes your still-throbbing shaft. "So good," she agrees. Hanni looks up, grinning, then leans over and captures Minji’s mouth in a deep, sloppy kiss, tongues tangling right there next to your thigh. Minji moans into the kiss, her hand coming up to cup Hanni’s cheek. They break apart, breathless, saliva shining on their lips. Danielle watches them, then leans across your lap and kisses Hanni hard. "My turn," she murmurs against Hanni's lips before pulling back and immediately latching back onto your cock with renewed vigor. Hanni laughs, a throaty sound, then dives back in alongside Minji. They work together now, a tag team of tongues and lips, sometimes bumping heads, sometimes pausing to shoot each other competitive little smirks. At one point, Minji deliberately licks a trail up your shaft right into Danielle's mouth, making Danielle groan and push her head away playfully.

"Bitch," Danielle mumbles, before they both dissolve into muffled giggles against your skin. The sight of them teasing each other, kissing while their mouths are slick with your cum-preview, drives you absolutely wild. Your hips start to buck involuntarily against their mouths. "Easy, tiger," Hanni murmurs, pulling off slightly. "Gotta make you last." But you can feel it, the tight knot coiling deep in your gut, the pressure building relentlessly. You're ready. More than ready. You need to be inside one of them, now.

Danielle seems to sense it too. She pulls off completely, her breathing ragged, eyes blazing with drunken lust. "Okay, okay," she pants, looking up at you, determination etched on her face. "Me first. I called dibs, right? Kinda?" She glances at the others for confirmation, though it’s clearly a statement, not a question. Hanni shrugs, still lazily licking the underside of your shaft. "Technically I had first dibs," she points out nonchalantly, referencing her sleepy pre-nap claim. "But whatever. You look like you need it more right now." Minji nods, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Go for it, Dani." Danielle grins, a triumphant, feral look.

She starts to climb onto the bed, clearly intending to mount you. "Uh-uh," you interrupt, your voice coming out rougher, more commanding than you intended, fueled by the overwhelming need to take control. She freezes, looking at you with wide, surprised eyes. "Get on your hands and knees," you order, pointing to the middle of the large bed. "Ass up." A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face. "Yes, sir," she purrs, the words dripping with mock obedience that doesn't quite hide the genuine thrill. She turns without another word and crawls onto the bed, positioning herself exactly as you instructed, hands planted firmly, back arched, presenting her tight, perfect ass directly towards you.

The view is fucking incredible.

Minji watches Danielle get into position, then, with a predatory gleam in her own eyes, she climbs onto the bed as well. She doesn't hesitate, crawling forward until she's sitting directly in front of Danielle, facing her, legs spread wide. She leans back on her hands, tilting her hips slightly, offering an explicit, deliberate view of her own slick, swollen folds and that neatly trimmed patch of hair. Her dark, puffy nipples are tight points, her breathing shallow.

Hanni slides off the floor where she’d been kneeling and comes to your side, pressing her naked body against yours, her skin hot. She reaches down, wrapping her hand around your still-aching cock, stroking it slowly, deliberately. "Ready to play?" she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear before she starts kissing your neck, her tongue tracing lazy circles while her hand keeps up its steady rhythm.

You look at the scene arrayed before you: Danielle, arched and waiting, her tight asshole puckering slightly with anticipation; Minji, sprawled open, her wet cunt glistening invitingly just beyond; Hanni, plastered against your side, her hand working you, her lips on your skin. Your cock pulses in her grip, slick and hard as rock.

Fuck yes, you're ready.

You shift forward, moving between Danielle’s waiting legs, Hanni’s hand dropping away as you position the thick head of your cock right at Danielle’s entrance. She whimpers softly, pushing back against you almost imperceptibly.

You grip Danielle's hips firmly, steadying yourself, steadying her. Her skin is hot and slick with a fine sheen of sweat under your palms. She pushes back against the head of your cock again. You don't make her wait. With a low groan, you thrust forward, pushing into her tight cunt. Holy fuck, she's snug. Her muscles clench around you instinctively, gripping you like a velvet fist. Danielle cries out, a sharp gasp that’s half pain, half pure pleasure, her back arching even more. "Oh god... yes! Fuck, you're thick," she pants. You pause for a second, letting her body adjust, letting yourself savor the incredible sensation of being buried deep inside her heat. It’s delicious, just as you imagined—tight, wet, welcoming. Hanni moans softly against your neck, her hand sliding down your stomach, fingers dancing near the base of your cock where it disappears into Danielle. She keeps kissing you, slow, wet, open-mouthed kisses.

Then, Danielle, still impaled on your cock, twists her head around, her hair sticking slightly to her damp forehead. Her eyes land on Minji, who's watching the penetration with wide, dark, fascinated eyes, her own pussy glistening. A wicked grin splits Danielle's face. "Don't think I forgot about you," she murmurs. She leans forward, stretching, until her face is level with Minji's spread legs. Without hesitation, Danielle's tongue darts out, flicking directly against Minji's clit. Minji gasps, her hips jolting off the bed slightly. "Oh! Fuck, Dani..." she breathes out, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Danielle chuckles, a low, throaty sound, and settles in, her mouth closing over Minji's swollen folds, sucking and licking with obvious expertise while your cock is still buried deep inside her own pussy. The sight is outrageously hot.

The combined stimuli, the incredible tightness surrounding your cock, the sight of Danielle devouring Minji, Hanni’s hot breath and soft lips on your neck, threaten to overload your senses. You need an outlet. As Hanni continues her sensual assault on your neck and shoulders, your free hand drifts down, your hand sliding across her soft skin. She gasps softly against your skin as your fingers probe deeper, easily finding her clit, already hard and slick. She’s soaking wet. You press down, rubbing in slow circles, then faster, mimicking the rhythm of your thrusts into Danielle. Hanni moans louder this time, grinding her hips against your side, pushing herself onto your fingers. "Yes... fuck, right there," she whispers urgently against your ear, her kisses becoming frantic, biting slightly at your earlobe. You start pumping into Danielle again, finding a steady rhythm. She groans with each thrust, her head thrown back now, entirely focused on pleasuring Minji, whose soft whimpers harmonize with Danielle's louder cries. You slide a finger inside Hanni, then two, stretching her slightly.

She gasps, digging her nails into your shoulder, her wetness coating your fingers as you scissor them inside her, hitting her g-spot with deliberate pressure while continuing to fuck Danielle’s tight cunt. It's a great combination of sensations: Danielle’s tight grip around your shaft, the visual feast of her eating Minji out, Hanni’s frantic moans against your ear as your fingers work her magic, the slick slap of skin on skin filling the hot, humid room.

You settle into a driving rhythm, fucking Danielle with deep, steady strokes that make the bed frame groan softly beneath you. Her tight pussy milks you with every plunge, threatening to pull you under completely. "Oh fuck... oh fuck," she chants, head still turned as her tongue works relentlessly between Minji’s legs. Minji is trembling now, whimpers escaping her lips, her hips twitching uncontrollably. Danielle seems to feed off it, her ministrations becoming almost frantic, sucking harder, her fingers finding Minji's clit and rubbing insistently.

Beside you, Hanni is writhing against your hand, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Deeper," she pants against your neck, her voice strained. "Fuck, yes... finger me harder!" You obey instantly, increasing the speed of your scissoring fingers inside her slick pussy, driving them deeper, hitting that spot again and again. Your thumb finds her clit, rubbing hard circles, mirroring the relentless rhythm of your thrusts into Danielle. Hanni cries out, a high, keening sound, bucking violently against your hand. "Like that! Oh god, don't stop!" Her nails are digging into your back now, leaving trails of fire on your skin. Her wetness coats your hand, slick and hot.

You increase your pace fucking Danielle, slamming into her harder, faster, drawing ragged moans from her throat that mingle with Minji’s higher-pitched cries. Danielle's ass cheeks clench around the base of your cock with each impact. "Jesus Christ," she manages to gasp out between frantic licks against Minji's folds. "You trying to split me in two?" Her voice is breathless, strained, but there’s no complaint in it, only raw, overwhelmed pleasure.

You lean down, grabbing a handful of her sweat-dampened hair, pulling her head back slightly. "You like it rough, don't you?" you growl near her ear. She just groans in response, her eyes rolling back slightly as you pound into her relentlessly, your balls slapping against her wet skin. Minji lets out a choked sob as Danielle’s mouth clamps down hard on her clit. "Dani! Oh fuck... please!" she pleads, though it's unclear if she's begging her to stop or begging for more. Danielle just grunts, seemingly lost in her task, her own body shuddering with the force of your thrusts. The friction inside Danielle is incredible, almost overwhelming. It feels like molten heat, tight and demanding.

Hanni is completely lost to your fingers, her head thrown back, neck arched, moaning your name over and over again, interspersed with incoherent pleas. "Faster... oh god, yes, faster..." You oblige, your fingers blurring inside her, thumb relentless on her clit, feeling the tremors starting deep within her body. She feels so fucking good, so responsive, her wetness seemingly endless. You alternate your attention, one deep thrust into Danielle followed by a faster, harder push of your fingers into Hanni, then she suddenly grabs your wrist, guiding your fingers, pressing them harder against her G-spot. "Right... there! Fuck me with your fingers, goddammit!" she demands. You push harder, deeper, feeling her inner muscles convulse around your digits. Danielle is bucking back against you now with every thrust, meeting your force with her own, her moans becoming deeper, throatier.

She pulls her mouth away from Minji for a second, gasping for air, her face flushed crimson, eyes glazed over. "Fuck... keep going... don't you fucking stop," she pants, looking back at you over her shoulder, her expression pure, unadulterated lust. Minji whimpers at the loss of contact, reaching down blindly as if to pull Danielle back. The room is filled with the sounds of their cries, your own ragged breathing, the wet slap of fucking, the rhythmic creak of the bed. Sweat drips from your forehead, tracing paths down your chest. You keep driving forward, burying yourself in Danielle's heat again and again, while your fingers continue their relentless assault on Hanni, pushing them both higher, deeper into the frenzy.

"Fuck—fuck—your cock’s so deep—" she chokes out, voice cracking around every word, cheek pressed to the mattress as she tries to keep herself steady. But she’s shaking. She’s soaked. Each slam of your hips punches a breath out of her lungs and scrambles the last of her coordination. Her mouth’s right between Minji’s legs, tongue trying to flick and suck at her clit, but she’s sloppy now, moaning too loud, jaw slack, not really able to focus.

"Shit—Danielle," Minji gasps, hips twitching forward, grabbing a fistful of hair, trying to keep her mouth on target. "I need it—don’t stop—" But Danielle just whimpers, licking blindly, overwhelmed, breath hot against Minji’s soaked slit.

To your right, Hanni’s curled beside you, one leg thrown over your thigh, her hips grinding against your fingers like it’s the only thing keeping her sane. Her pussy’s glistening, juices coating your knuckles as you curl two fingers into her, stroking that spot inside her with precision, ruthless in how steady you are. "Fucking—god," she pants, her head thrown back. "You’re gonna make me cum just from your fingers—I’m not kidding—I swear—keep going—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—"

You don’t stop. You press in deeper, scissoring your fingers slightly, flattening them inside her and rubbing hard. You watch her fall apart. She slaps one hand over her mouth and fails to muffle the scream—"F-fuck, I’m cumming—oh god I’m cumming fuck—fuck—fuck—"—her hips bucking hard, pussy clenching tight around your fingers, gushing down your wrist in hot spurts. She thrashes, thighs squeezing shut around your hand, breath caught in her throat until it breaks into a ragged sob of release.

You pull your hand free, sticky and shining, and slap her ass once, making her whimper and twitch. Then you turn back to Danielle.

"Focus," you growl, hands tightening on her hips, guiding her back down into the mattress. She’s collapsed halfway, elbows shaking under her weight, mouth hanging open, spit dripping from her chin. You slam back into her, cock punching deep, and she lets out a wrecked cry.

"A-ahhh—god—please—fuck me harder—I need it harder—please, please, please—"

"You begging for it now?" you grunt, slapping her ass again, watching it jiggle. "You want it faster, Dani? You wanna be fucked dumb in front of your friends?"

"Yes, yes—fuck—I’m so close—I’m not gonna last—" she whines. You grab a fistful of her hair and tug her head up.

"Then earn it. Don’t ignore your friend," you snap, nodding at Minji, who's watching with parted lips, her legs still open, two fingers slowly rubbing her clit while she watches Dani get railed. "Get back to her pussy. She needs you." Danielle gasps, tears in her eyes, but she listens. Her mouth drops between Minji’s thighs again, tongue sloppily lapping at her folds, one hand fumbling between the friend’s legs as she tries to focus through your brutal pace.

Minji moans, high and breathy. "Fuck—Dani—yes, yes just like that—faster—"

You slam into Danielle harder, angle shifting to hit deep, bottoming out with a filthy slap every time your hips crash into her ass. Her pussy clamps around you, fluttering tight, and she cries out around Minji’s clit, still trying to suck while her body melts. Her hand jerks between Minji’s thighs, fingers frantic now, not coordinated, just desperate. Minji lets out a sob, hips bucking forward into Danielle’s mouth, hand flying up to cover her face.

"Oh—fuck—I’m gonna cum—fuck—keep going—don’t stop—Danielle—yes—!"

And it all goes to hell at once. Danielle screams, back arching hard as her orgasm slams through her. She tries to stay upright, but you keep pounding into her, fucking her through it, and she collapses with her face still buried in Minji’s cunt, fingers still moving. Minji bucks against her, gasping, thighs clamping around Dani’s head as she cries out, cumming in tandem.

"Ahhh—ah—fuck—right there! I'm so fucking horny, shit!" Minji’s whole body tightens, legs shaking, face twisting up with ecstasy as she rides Danielle’s fingers, moaning loud and raw. Her pussy drips down Dani’s wrist as she crashes through her climax, her moans rising with each jerk of her hips.

Danielle’s still moaning too, overwhelmed, ruined, your cock still buried inside her. Her thighs are trembling, cunt milking you, breath ragged.

"Fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop—please keep fucking me—" she begs, almost sobbing, cheek to the sheets, body limp except for her ass pushing back on you.

The bed's a fucking mess, pillows shoved to the floor, sheets half-knotted around legs, heat soaked into every crease like the mattress itself is sweating. Your body’s burning, cock still buried inside Danielle’s fluttering cunt, her hips twitching in aftershocks as she rides the final, ragged edge of her orgasm. Her knees are wide, thighs sticky, her whole frame drooped forward, arms barely keeping her up. You slow down, rolling your hips deep and slow now, just enough to milk every last tremble out of her while her walls squeeze you in these lazy, fading pulses.

“Fuuuck,” Dani groans, slumping down with her cheek pressed into the mattress, face turned just enough for you to see the edge of a dumb, dazed grin. Her eyes are glassy, mouth open, a slick trail of drool stretched from her lip to the bed. “I… I don’t even know what dimension I’m in anymore.” She giggles; light, dizzy, totally lost in that giddy cocktail of post-orgasm high and bar-cocktail drunk. Her whole body shakes as she laughs, then sighs like she’s been deflated.

You slide out of her slow, and she whimpers at the drag, her pussy so sensitive she jerks once on instinct before collapsing flat. You lean in, brushing damp hair away from her cheek, and kiss her, soft, messy, her lips parted, her breath still hiccuping as she giggles into your mouth.

“You’re fucking insane,” she murmurs against your lips, eyes fluttering. “Like. You’ve broken parts of my brain. I think I forgot my major.”

You grin and kiss her again, deeper this time, until she moans, then pull back and look over her shoulder where Hanni’s sprawled out watching you both, her hair a tangle, her inner thighs still glistening with the mess you made earlier. She’s on her side now, hand idly toying with her clit while she watches, all flushed and content and still hungry.

But the moment you turn your attention across the bed, Minji’s already sitting up straighter, brushing hair off her collarbones, eyes locked on you. Her lips are still dark with that same lipstick, slightly smudged now, and her thighs glisten faintly from the earlier action. She raises an eyebrow as you meet her gaze, then tilts her head with a sly little smile.

“My turn,” she says simply, like she’s been waiting with this exact line loaded. “Gonna let me ride you?”

You crawl over the bed, over Dani’s spent body, past Hanni’s grinning mouth, and stop in front of Minji. Her breath catches when you lean in and kiss her slow, letting her taste the linger of Danielle’s moans still on your mouth. She kisses back, firmer, confident, a low sound rumbling in her chest as your hand cups her jaw, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

“You sure?” you murmur against her lips.

She laughs under her breath. “I’ve been wet for you since the airport,” she whispers. “You’re gonna let me fuck myself stupid or what?”

You lie back in the middle of the bed, propped on a few bunched pillows, and your cock’s already thick and heavy, slick from Dani’s orgasm, standing tall against your stomach. Minji doesn’t wait for permission, she climbs over you, slow and deliberate, straddling your hips like she’s done it a dozen times in her head already.

Her body’s gorgeous: tall, legs strong and smooth, breasts swaying slightly with each shift. Her pussy looks perfect, soft lips already glistening as she kneels above you and wraps a hand around your cock, guiding the thick head to her slit. She shudders just from that contact, biting her lip, her eyes fluttering half-shut.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, dragging your tip through her folds, hips rocking teasingly. “You're so fucking thick.”

“Minji,” Hanni calls, breathless from the other side of the bed. She’s giggling now too, watching her friend work your cock like it’s a goddamn delicacy. “Wait till he’s inside. That first stretch? Fuuuck.”

Minji shoots her a smirk, then lowers herself slow, her pussy parting around your head with slick, obscene resistance. “Jesus,” she breathes, nails digging into your chest. “Hanni wasn’t kidding. You’re huge. I can feel you in my fucking lungs.”

She sinks further, inch by inch, body tensing every time your cock stretches her wider. Her mouth falls open as she drops her hips that last inch, fully seating herself on you with a stuttering gasp.

“Oh my god,” she moans, rocking forward instinctively, trying to breathe through the sudden full-body shock of being stretched so deep. “No wonder she’s always so smug after hooking up with you.”

Your hands settle on her waist, thumbs stroking her flushed skin as she starts moving—slow, careful rolls of her hips at first, working herself open around your cock. Her brows knit together, jaw slack, riding the edge between discomfort and overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s it,” you murmur, dragging your hands up her sides. “Take what you want, Minji. Fucking use me.”

She moans again, louder this time, starting to ride properly now—bouncing with more rhythm, her thighs flexing, tits jiggling with every downstroke. You groan, letting her set the pace, feeling how tight and warm and wet she is wrapped around you.

Across the mattress, Hanni and Danielle have gravitated toward each other. Hanni climbs into Dani’s lap, straddling her thigh and tugging her into a kiss. Danielle, still fucked out and giggling, moans as Hanni’s mouth crushes against hers. Their bodies grind together slow, Hanni humping Dani’s thigh, both of them breathless, lost in the press of lips and the slippery rub of skin on skin.

“Your pussy still twitching, huh?” Hanni purrs into Danielle’s mouth, licking the corner of her lips.

“Mmhmm,” Dani hums, pulling Hanni tighter against her. “But you’re worse. You’re dripping, babe.”

Their hands disappear between each other’s thighs, working slow and sloppy while Minji rides you harder now, both hands on your chest for leverage.

“Oh—fucking—fuck—” she gasps, voice pitching higher every time she bottoms out. “It’s too good—I can’t— I get it now, I get why she’s obsessed—fuck—this cock’s gonna ruin me—”

And you’re still just lying there, letting her take what she needs, eyes flicking between the two girls grinding against each other and Minji’s flushed, desperate face as she bounces faster, cunt slapping down onto your hips with wet, hungry sounds that echo under the moans. Her thighs tremble, sweat dotting her collarbone, hair clinging to her cheeks as she loses her rhythm for a second and drops down hard, bottoming out and grinding herself there, desperate for more friction. Her eyes roll up slightly, fingers clawing at your chest.

“Don’t stop me,” she begs, voice cracking. “I’m gonna fucking cum like this—I swear—I can’t hold it—”

Hanni and Dani’s moans rise in tandem, their fingers flicking across each other’s clits, messy and fast now, lips locked, hands tangled in hair.

You're surrounded, soaked in it—girls panting and moaning, cunt tightening around your cock, legs shaking. Minji’s voice goes high and breathless as she stutters, hips jerking.

She’s close, you can tell—her body’s right on that trembling edge, cunt spasming tight around your cock every time her hips slam down—but she’s holding herself back, grinding harder like she wants it to hurt a little, like she needs that something more to tip her over. Sweat drips down her spine, her back arched, lips parted around a panting whimper. Her fingers dig into your chest like she’s anchoring herself to reality, and her eyes stay fixed on yours, burning through the low amber light of the fucked-out room.

Her pace shifts. Not slower. Not faster. Just... different. Focused. Controlled. Her thighs flex, bouncing with steady purpose, her rhythm so exact you can feel your cock stretching her perfectly on every single roll of her hips. She’s fucking herself into a stupor, breath coming ragged now, and her voice shakes as she leans forward a little, grinding deeper.

“Choke me,” she breathes, quiet but absolutely clear.

You blink up at her, heart kicking once hard in your chest. And then you’re moving, hands sliding up her arms, over the sweat-slicked plane of her neck. You wrap your fingers around her throat and squeeze—not too hard at first, just enough pressure to make her gasp and rock harder.

Her reaction is instant.

“Oh my god,” she chokes out, eyes fluttering, lips twitching into this crooked, dirty grin. “Fuck—yes. Like that—more—don’t hold back—”

You squeeze again, harder this time, and her pussy clamps down on your cock like a fucking vice. Her whole body jolts forward, hair falling into her face, mouth open in a half-scream, half-moan as she keeps riding you through it. The weight of your grip around her throat sends her spiraling—head tipping back, breath coming in short bursts, cunt dripping down your length. Right beside you, a ripple of giggles breaks out—Hanni and Danielle tangled together like drunk, horny vines. Hanni’s on top, legs locked, slick skin sliding. Dani’s thigh is jammed between Hanni’s, and they’re grinding against each other, messy and frantic, watching you and Minji like it’s the best fucking show they’ve ever seen.

“Look at her,” Hanni laughs, breathless, one arm around Dani’s waist as they rock together. “She’s such a little freak, huh?”

Danielle moans, smiling, her hand gripping Hanni’s ass as she bucks against her. “Fuck, yeah. That’s so hot. Look at her face—look how she takes it—ugh, I love this group.”

Minji’s smiling too now, delirious with it, red in the face from the pressure and the pounding. “They’re watching,” she gasps, like it turns her on even more. “They’re fucking watching me like a porn—fuck!—like a fucking slut—”

You keep one hand around her throat and drag the other down, sliding hard across her cheek. The slap cracks through the room.

Minji jolts, gasping, her eyes wide and shining. She pauses—just for a second—then smiles. It’s crooked and hot and wild, like you just unlocked some part of her she doesn’t show most people.

“Again,” she breathes, biting her lip. “Slap me again.”

You do. This time louder. Her head whips a little with the force, her hair flying loose around her face. Her thighs clamp down tighter around your waist. Her pussy floods your cock.

“Fuuuck,” Danielle moans, grinding harder against Hanni. “God, that’s so hot. Minji, baby, you’re killing me right now.”

“Don’t stop,” Hanni pants, rocking her hips hard against Danielle’s, wet friction loud and shameless. “Fucking wreck her, babe. She loves it—look at her—she’s drooling.”

Minji really is. Her chin’s slick, her mouth open, this desperate, fucked-out expression carved into her features like you’ve turned her into someone else entirely. She’s bouncing harder now, breath knocked out of her with each slap of your hips, moaning louder every time your hand hits her cheek.

“Harder—fuck me harder,” she snarls, voice raw, throat bruised under your grip. “Slap me again—do it—do it!”

Another slap. Another gasp. Another roll of her hips, harder than the last. Your cock is buried deep in her, stretching her open, her clit grinding against your pelvis every time she sinks down. She’s dripping, moaning, riding like a demon, chasing something violent.

You glance over—Hanni’s got Dani on her back now, one leg hooked over her shoulder, both of them flushed and sticky, fingers tangled in hair, lips swollen from kissing. They’re still scissoring, sloppier now, hips rocking, thighs trembling.

“Minji’s the star tonight,” Hanni pants, glancing over at you with that fox-smirk that always means she’s up to no good. “God, look at her ride that cock—like she’s starving.”

“I wanna try it next,” Dani mumbles between kisses. “Like, right after. While it’s still all soaked in her mess.”

Hanni giggles, sliding down Dani’s body and latching onto her nipple, teeth grazing it just enough to make Dani yelp and arch up. “Greedy bitch,” she teases, “but after Minji it's my turn.”

Minji hears all of it. She moans, louder now, her pace going ragged.

“Y-you hear that?” she gasps, hands pressing to your chest for balance as she keeps riding, hair flying in her face. “They want your cock next. Right after I break it.” You squeeze her throat again, watching her eyes roll back, then slap her one more time, hard. She’s moaning with every thrust, every slap, the sound messy, guttural, losing the rhythm of it as pleasure cracks her composure.

She’s grinding hard now, not even bouncing—just trying to mash her clit against your pelvis with these desperate, dragging circles, her pussy squeezing your cock with every motion like her body’s trying to pull you deeper, trying to milk something out of you she hasn’t earned yet. Her eyes catch yours, glazed and raw, and she swallows hard like she can barely keep it together.

“Call me a whore,” she gasps suddenly. “Fuck—say it—call me your little whore.”

Your hands slide up her thighs, over her hips, fingers sinking into the curve of her waist as you thrust up once, hard, just to feel how tight she clutches you when she gasps.

“You’re a fucking whore,” you growl, eyes locked on hers. “A cock-drunk, needy little whore riding like your life depends on it.”

She shudders, moaning loud, mouth dropping open like the words themselves fucked her.

“F-fuck, yes,” she breathes, “that’s it—that’s what I needed—fuck me—break me—”

She leans down, chest pressed to yours, and kisses you, mouth hot and wet and shaking. Her lips move against yours, but she’s still whispering between the kisses, frantic.

“Please make me cum—please—I need it so bad—just fucking take it—”

You sit up under her, strong arms locking around her back, rolling her onto the mattress without pulling out. Your bodies flip, her thighs falling open under you, legs spread wide as you slam back in and start pounding her—deep, fast, merciless.

Minji screams, nails clawing at your back, her body rocking with the force of your thrusts. “Oh my god—oh my fucking god—yes—yes, don’t stop—don’t stop!”

You don’t. You hammer into her, hips slapping against the backs of her thighs, cock spearing into her soaked, swollen pussy until she’s drooling onto her own chin, shaking under you, her moans turning to broken sobs of pleasure.

“Fuck, look at her,” Hanni laughs, breathless, watching with wild eyes from where she’s still wrapped around Dani. “Minji’s such a fucking slut right now—so perfect!”

Danielle’s moaning too, her fingers tangled in Hanni’s hair, one leg hooked around Hanni’s waist. Her eyes are locked on the way your hips crash into Minji’s, the way her pussy’s clenching and dripping around your cock with every brutal thrust.

“I’m gonna cum just watching this,” Dani groans. “God, the way he’s fucking her—fuck—fuck, it’s so hot—”

Then Hanni leans over, and suddenly spit on Minji's chest, you quickly spread the saliva across her breasts.

“Cum for him, you dirty slut,” Hanni growls, breath panting against Dani’s neck. “Show us how much of a whore you really are.”

Minji moans louder as she feels her climax approaching, legs locking around your waist.

“I’m gonna cum—I’m gonna fucking cum—don’t stop—don’t stop—break my pussy!”

“Cum on my cock,” you grunt, one hand fisting in her hair, dragging her head back to stare at you. “Fucking soak me, slut—show them how filthy you are—”

Danielle’s shaking, Hanni clutching her tight. They’re grinding hard, kissing messy, watching with wide eyes, their fingers slick between each other’s legs.

Minji throws her head back, screaming now, her voice raw and shaking.

“i’m—fuck—i’m cumming—cumming on your cock—FUCK—”

Her pussy clamps down so hard it feels like she’s trying to crush your cock, her whole body locking up under you as she cums with a high, shattering scream. Her legs kick, back arching, hips jerking uncontrollably while the orgasm rips through her. She’s gushing, soaking your thighs, her nails digging bloody little half-moons into your back as her climax pulses again and again.

Dani cries out right after, burying her face in Hanni’s neck, trembling violently as she cums from the overload, from watching, from the friction of Hanni’s thigh. Hanni moans with her, shuddering, her fingers a blur on her clit as she tips over too, riding it out pressed tight to Dani’s writhing body.

The room’s just noise and panting now. Bodies twitching. Sheets soaked. Minji clinging to you, shaking, still twitching from the aftershocks as you ease the rhythm, your cock still buried deep.

She blinks up at you, dazed, lips parted in a wrecked little smile.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes. “That was… I’ve never cum like that. That was insane.”

You smile down at her, brushing sweat-slick hair away from her face, and kiss the tip of her nose. “You’re amazing,” you whisper.

She grins back, breathless, totally fucked-out. “No, you’re amazing.”

Then, suddenly, the mattress dips with sudden weight—Hanni and Danielle throw themselves between you two like kids cannonballing into a pillow fort, squealing with laughter, bare skin slapping bare skin, limbs everywhere. The bed bounces, a tangle of heat and sweat and giggles. Minji yelps when Hanni’s ass lands half on her thigh, still sensitive and overstimmed, but she’s laughing too, breathless and glassy-eyed, her body so limp she can barely squirm.

“Fucking hell,” Dani gasps, rolling onto her side and flopping over Minji, one hand resting lazily on your thigh. “I came so hard just watching you get fucked like that.”

Minji whines from under her, flinching a little, but nods hard. “I think I died for a second. Like actual blackout, heart-stopping sex-death.” She exhales sharp through her nose, a breathless chuckle buried in the sound. “Worth it.”

Then Hanni slides up, straddling your hips with zero hesitation, her knees pinning you to the sheets as her still-slick thighs nestle against your waist. Her face is flushed, her whole body glowing, shining under the haze of sweat and soft lamplight. She looks ecstatic, and a little drunk in the most adorable, chaotic way. Her bangs are damp, sticking to her forehead, and she’s got that grin spreading across her face like it’s about to consume the whole room.

“I told you bitches,” Hanni says, proud as hell, glancing down at Minji and Dani with a theatrical flick of her head. “Wasn’t it a great fucking idea to bring him?”

Minji, still flat on her back, groans out a slow “Yes,” dragging the syllable like she’s still processing the concept of words.

Danielle raises a hand like she’s making a toast, except it’s just a floppy little wave. “Seconded. Fuck, I vote he comes on every vacation now.”

“All in favor?” Hanni smirks, her hands already tracing slow circles on your chest.

All three girls mumble some variation of “Yes,” “Fuck yes,” “Holy shit yes,” and “Best decision ever,” their voices tangled with giggles and half-moan whimpers. Hanni laughs, pleased with herself, rocking her hips once against you just to feel your cock press between her thighs.

“Relaxation achieved,” Minji murmurs.

“Ten outta ten stress relief,” Dani adds, now curled sideways into Minji’s body, pressing soft kisses under her jaw, lazy little nuzzles full of leftover lust.

Hanni leans forward and kisses you hard. She tastes like sweat, rum, the faint tang of her own arousal. Her lips are needy, tongue teasing, confident in a way that hits different now, knowing she’s been watching you wreck her friends all night.

“You’ve been saving some for me, right?” she whispers into your mouth, grinding her hips once to feel the drag of your cock against her pussy lips. She’s soaked already, slick enough that even that little motion has your length sliding up between her folds, warm and sticky. She ruts against it like she’s starving. “I better not be last on the rotation every time,” she mutters, her tone teasing, breath quickening.

You grab her hips, flip her onto her back without warning, and she squeals with laughter, legs splaying open instantly. Her pussy’s dripping, lips spread already, folds glistening under the light like she’s been ready for hours. She spreads her legs wider, knees bent up, feet flat on the mattress.

“Fuck,” you murmur, staring down at her, cock twitching. “You’re soaked.”

“Gee,” Hanni laughs breathlessly, reaching between her legs and spreading herself open with two fingers, hips rolling with impatience. “What can I say? Your fingers are magical. And maybe watching my friends get ruined by you for twenty minutes straight made me a little wet too.”

Danielle groans softly at that, and when you glance to the side, she’s leaning over Minji, kissing her slow and deep again. Their bodies are tangled now, legs weaving together, the soft press of tits and lips and sticky thighs. Dani’s hand is already slipping down Minji’s belly, sliding between her legs again.

But your focus is all Hanni. She looks fucking perfect laid out like this: cheeks flushed, eyes wild, mouth curved into that too-clever smirk as her fingers drift down her stomach, stopping just shy of her clit. Her other hand strokes along your abs, playful, lazy, guiding your cock into position.

You don’t slide in. Not yet. You hold your cock by the base, tapping the head lightly against her entrance. Her whole body jolts. She gasps, writhes, shoves her hips up to chase it, but you pull back, smacking it again. Wet, sloppy, loud against her cunt.

“F-fuck,” she stammers. “Don’t tease me, I’ll bite.”

You grin. Do it again. She whines, arching her back now, her chest heaving as the head of your cock slaps against her clit once, then again.

“I want it,” she gasps, needy. “I want your cock, please—I’ve been waiting—fuck, just give it to me—”

“You’re sure?” you murmur, teasing the head just barely inside her now, watching her hole flutter.

“Fuck you,” she laughs breathlessly, grabbing your arms. “Yes. Yes yes yes! shut up and fuck me already!”

You thrust.

She screams.

“Ohh my GOD—” she wails, her legs wrapping tight around your waist as your cock plunges into her. She’s tight and wet and so warm, her walls clenching around you like her pussy’s been sculpted for this exact moment. She grabs your shoulders, nails digging in, eyes wide and unblinking.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she gasps, “Why is it so big—why do you feel so fucking good—”

You start to move, hips rolling deep, then harder, setting a brutal pace that rocks her whole body against the bed. Her tits bounce with every thrust, her arms flailing slightly before settling around your neck, clinging on like she’s holding on for dear life.

“Oh my god, oh my god—don’t stop,” she babbles, her head tipping back into the sheets, voice cracking. “That’s it, that’s it—fuck me just like that— ruin my pussy—break it—”

To your left, Dani’s moaning again, grinding against Minji’s thigh, her lips locked with hers in another sloppy kiss. “She’s so fucking loud,” Minji mutters between kisses, smirking against Dani’s mouth.

“She’s so fucking hot,” Dani whispers back. “You see her tits? Fuck, I’d cum just watching her ride a pillow—look at her take that cock.”

Minji laughs, biting Dani’s lower lip. “Jealous?”

“A little,” Dani admits, shivering. “I wanna eat it after he cums in her. Wanna taste it leaking out.”

Hanni hears them. She fucking hears them.

Her eyes fly open, head snapping toward them, mouth open in shock and lust.

“Y-you bitches,” she moans, “talking about licking my pussy while I’m getting wrecked—what the fuck—”

Minji giggles, still breathless. “You like it?”

“I love it—” Hanni screams, hips bucking up to meet your thrusts. “I love being used—I love being watched—I love this cock—”

You fuck her harder. The whole bed shakes. Her moans turn to sobs.

Hanni's body is shaking beneath you, drenched in sweat, soaked between the thighs, every thrust of your cock squelching loud and obscene inside her dripping cunt. She's gripping the sheets now, knuckles pale, nails curled into the fabric like she's hanging on for her fucking life. Her tits bounce with each brutal drive of your hips, hair clinging to her forehead, lips swollen and spit-slick. Her moans are higher now, sharp and stuttering, her head tossing back against the mattress like she's trying to pull oxygen out of the ceiling.

And then she gasps it out—hoarse, frantic, barely audible over her own breathless cries:

“Choke me.”

Your eyes snap down to hers. She’s flushed and wild-eyed, panting, her legs squeezing around your waist like she’s trying to lock you in.

“Choke me,” she begs again, voice cracking. “Like you did to Minji—don’t stop fucking me—just do it, please.”

You don’t hesitate. You slide your hand up her throat, fingers wrapping snug around her neck, feeling the slick pulse of her heartbeat jump against your palm. You squeeze, not too hard, just enough to tilt her eyes up into that fluttery haze, to make her mouth fall open as her breath catches. You don’t slow your hips for a second. You fuck her through it—hard, deep, fast—your cock pounding into her cunt with relentless, savage rhythm. She's wetter than ever, her pussy creamy now, coating your shaft in a sticky mess that smears across her inner thighs, dripping down to stain the sheets.

Hanni's moaning uncontrollably, every thrust driving a noise out of her throat that’s part whimper, part scream, part this fucked-up little giggle, like she’s drunk off the whole experience. Her pupils are huge, mouth open, body writhing beneath you, and she’s so far gone she doesn’t even notice Dani crawling up beside her until cool fingers brush between her legs.

“Sensitive, huh?” Dani murmurs, breath warm against Hanni’s cheek, her hand sliding casually between her thighs. Two fingers find her clit, swollen, throbbing, and the second Dani touches it, Hanni shrieks.

“Fuuuck—Jesus, Dani—don’t—no wait—yes—”

You don’t let up on her throat. Her eyes roll back as you thrust harder, your hips slapping against hers while Dani circles her clit with slow, deliberate cruelty, watching her best friend unravel with a smirk on her lips.

“She’s losing it,” Minji says from the other side, grinning as she straddles Hanni’s arm. She leans in close. “Open your mouth, Han.”

Hanni’s tongue slips out instantly, lips parted, slack with submission.

Minji spits.

A thick, glistening string lands directly on her tongue, messy and wet. Hanni moans around it, head swimming, throat still tight in your grip, the added weight of saliva pushing her even further into that blissed-out place where everything feels too much and not enough at once.

Minji doesn’t even wait. She grabs Hanni’s face and kisses her, hard, filthy, tongue sliding deep, their moans tangled and breathless. Hanni groans into it, writhing between both girls and your cock like she doesn’t know who to fuck first. She’s a mess, her thighs trembling, clit twitching under Dani’s fingers, and every time your cock slams into her, her pussy gets wetter, creamier, soaking your balls in hot slick.

“She’s gonna cum,” Dani whispers, breath hitching as she teases Hanni’s clit harder now, pressing down just right. “Feel that twitch? She's fucking close.”

“She’s right,” Minji breathes against Hanni’s mouth. “Come on, Han. Let it go. Cum on that cock.”

Hanni's voice is wrecked now, thin and broken and so needy. “Please—please don’t stop—don’t stop—I’m close—I’m fucking cumming—”

You growl into her ear, choking her just a little harder. “Cum on my cock, Hanni. Let me feel that pussy explode. You want that? You wanna cream all over me like a filthy little toy?”

She nods frantically, can’t speak, her mouth open in a wordless sob, Dani’s fingers working her clit with practiced cruelty.

“Cum for him,” Minji hisses. “Be good and fucking cum—”

And Hanni breaks.

Her back arches like she’s being electrocuted, legs clamping around your waist, mouth dropping open in a scream that rips through the whole room. Her pussy clamps down on your cock so hard it’s like her body’s trying to hold you hostage, waves of thick, wet pleasure rolling through her. She cums hard, sobbing out her orgasm, twitching with every thrust as you keep fucking her through it, her cream pouring out of her, mess coating your cock, her thighs and the sheets under her ass.

She doesn't stop trembling. Doesn’t stop moaning. And you don’t stop fucking her.

Hanni’s still pulsing around you when the next wave hits. You haven’t let up, not for a second, driving into her with rhythmic, punishing strokes that slap skin on skin, each one dragging out another broken moan from her wrecked throat. She’s quivering under you, thighs wide open, one hand curled helplessly in the sheets while the other claws at Dani’s wrist where her fingers haven’t stopped circling her clit. Minji’s straddled across Hanni’s chest now, hands massaging her tits, thumbs brushing over her rock-hard nipples, leaning down to whisper filth directly into her ear as the whole bed shakes with the force of your fucking.

“You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” Minji teases, breath hot against her cheek. “Gonna squirt all over him this time, huh? Gonna make a goddamn mess, baby.”

The second orgasm hits her like a seizure. Hanni's whole body jolts under you, nails raking down your back as her thighs clamp tight around your waist, hips bucking wildly against your thrusts. Her head snaps back against the pillows, mouth falling open in a ragged, “Oh my fuck—I’m cumming again!” It comes out broken, strangled, voice cracking under the weight of it. She doesn’t even make it halfway through the sentence before she starts squirting, pussy gushing around your cock in warm, wet pulses. You feel the spray splash your stomach, your thighs, her own trembling legs soaked through as the sheets go from damp to absolutely flooded. Her eyes roll up, half-lidded and glassy, lips twitching like she’s trying to form another word but all that comes out is a stuttering,

And you keep fucking her through it. Not slowing down, not backing off, pistoning your hips like you’re chasing the end of her orgasm with your cock, hitting her soaked, clenching walls again and again and again. The way she tightens around you now, fluttering with overstimulation, it’s so wet, so fucking wet, the friction slick and obscene, your skin smacking into hers with loud, slappy sounds that echo off the walls. Her whole body is twitching, like you’ve fried her circuits.

Danielle is still there, hand locked between Hanni’s trembling thighs, rubbing tight little circles on her clit with her middle finger. "That's it baby, let it out—fuck, look at you," she breathes, her face flushed, biting her bottom lip as she watches Hanni writhe under the three of you, caught in some endless high.

Minji’s on the other side, leaned over, one hand cupping Hanni’s tit like it belongs to her, squeezing gently as her mouth latches onto the other. You catch the way her cheeks hollow, tongue flicking over Hanni’s nipple as she sucks and hums, her free hand petting down Hanni’s thigh like she’s trying to soothe her through the intensity. Hanni can’t even form words anymore, she just lets out this strangled, sobbing Hhhhnnnn- as her whole body spasms through another round of squirting.

You barely register the groan that slips out of your throat, deep and thick and right from your gut. Her pussy is squeezing the cum out of you, she’s wringing you dry just by twitching on your dick, and you can feel it boiling up in your spine, your balls drawing up tight, the edge rushing you like a freight train.

“I’m gonna cum—” you grunt, head dropping against Hanni’s shoulder, barely managing to hold yourself up on shaking arms.

Danielle doesn’t even hesitate. “In her,” she says immediately, low and breathless, her fingers never stopping. “Fuck, cum in her, she needs it—just look at her—”

“She’s on the pill,” Minji gasps, licking a line across Hanni’s tit. “She told us. Do it. Fill her the fuck up—”

Hanni nods frantically beneath you, her thighs still locked around you, dragging you deeper. “Please—please cum inside me—fuck—I want it—”

You snap.

The orgasm rips through you so hard your whole body shudders, hips jerking as your cock throbs inside her, buried to the base. You swear out loud as the first spurt of cum floods into her, thick and hot, coating her insides. She gasps like she feels every pulse of it, her pussy clenching greedily around your cock. Another spurt, and another, and another, so much cum you can feel it pooling deep inside her, coating her walls, no resistance at all, just warmth and wetness and her moaning like it’s the best thing she’s ever felt.

“Mmm—yes yes yes—fuck me full,” she babbles, arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, her whole body shaking under you. “God—it’s so warm—you’re cumming so much—feels so good… feels so fucking good, babe.”

You collapse against her for a second, chest heaving, forehead resting in the crook of her neck, cock still twitching inside her. You can feel how full she is. You don’t even need to pull out to know you’ve filled her past capacity.

And when you do ease back, sliding out slow with a wet noise that makes Hanni gasp and twitch, the mess you’ve made is instantly obvious. Your cum spills out of her immediately, a thick, creamy line drooling down the split of her lips, smearing across her inner thighs and the ruined sheets below. She whimpers at the loss of you, hips instinctively lifting like her pussy is begging to stay full.

But Danielle and Minji aren’t letting it go to waste.

“Holy shit,” Danielle mutters, eyes glued to the way your cum leaks from her. “Look at that—fucking flooded her.” She doesn’t wait. She leans down, dragging her tongue from Hanni’s slit all the way up to her clit in one long, slow, filthy lick, groaning around the taste. “Mmmff—fuck, that’s good…”

Minji’s already there beside her, bracing one hand on Hanni’s thigh as she leans in from the opposite side. “Save some for me,” she says, then pushes her face into the mess, licking greedily at the slick between Hanni’s folds, tongue flicking in quick, deliberate strokes that make Hanni squeal, hips jerking helplessly. “Oh my god—I can’t—”

Her pussy’s too sensitive now—every touch makes her flinch and whine, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. But she doesn’t tell them to stop. Her hands are fisted in the sheets, pulling tight as she moans through it, a whimpery, overwhelmed sound. “F-fuck—feels—too good, oh my god—fuck—Minji, Dani—” She writhes as their mouths keep working her, slurping the mixture of cum and slick straight from her pussy.

Danielle’s moaning into it, low and needy, like just tasting it is enough to get her off. Her tongue circles Hanni’s clit with practiced precision while Minji focuses lower, licking at your cum as it seeps out in slow, obscene dribbles. Every now and then they pause to kiss each other, mouths shiny and sticky with the mix, tongues sliding together, moaning softly into each other like they’re drunk on it.

And you? You’re leaning back on your knees, dick still half-hard and twitching as you watch it all. Completely transfixed. The scene in front of you is the filthiest, hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Your cum, their mouths, her pussy still fluttering and leaking, Hanni's body jerking with aftershocks, eyes glassy and half-lidded as she pants like she just ran a marathon. The way Danielle and Minji trade licks and moans like it’s the best dessert they’ve ever tasted.

They kiss again, deeper this time, cum-slick lips meeting with soft sounds, tongues tangled, and then Danielle leans down to kiss Hanni, pressing their mouths together gently, almost sweet despite the filth surrounding them. Minji follows, kissing along Hanni’s jaw, then catching her lips in another soft, slow kiss, her hand stroking Hanni’s side like she’s trying to comfort her back down from the high.

Hanni’s whimpering into their mouths, too overstimulated to return the kisses properly but too wrecked to stop them. Her whole body glows, skin flushed, damp with sweat and sex, her thighs still trembling where they’re spread wide on the soaked mattress. Her lips part against Danielle’s and Minji’s in turn, gasping faint little sounds into each kiss, shivering with every touch like her body’s still vibrating with afterglow.

You slide into the warm space between the tangled pile of girls, fitting yourself into the curve of Danielle's back while Minji is practically draped over Hanni’s front. You're all slick, sticky, and utterly spent. Hanni stirs slightly, letting out a long, contented sigh without opening her eyes. "Mmm," she murmurs drowsily. "This... this is life." Minji makes a soft sound of agreement against Hanni's shoulder. "Best spring break," she mumbles, her words slightly slurred. "Already the best." Danielle shifts slightly and props her head up on her hand to look over at you and Hanni. "Seriously," she whispers, “this is... epic. We totally need to remember this." Suddenly, her eyes light up with a typically Danielle-esque, slightly chaotic idea.

"Wait! Selfie!" Before anyone can protest, she's reaching carefully for her phone, which somehow ended up tangled in the sheets near the edge of the bed. She fumbles with it for a moment, squinting at the screen in the dim light filtering from the hallway. "Okay, everyone look... wrecked!" she instructs, holding the phone at arm's length, angling it to capture the messy, exhausted pile of naked bodies. You manage a weak smile. Hanni cracks open one eye, peering suspiciously at the phone. Minji is barely conscious. Danielle snaps a quick picture, the flash momentarily illuminating flushed faces, tangled limbs, messy hair, and the general beautiful disaster zone of the bed.

"Perfect," Danielle declares, reviewing the shot with a satisfied smirk. "Definitely one for the... private collection." Hanni yawns hugely. "You better not be putting that on your OnlyFans, Dani," she mumbles. Danielle laughs softly. "Chill, Han! God no. This one's just for us. A little souvenir of maximum stress relief achieved."

You blink, processing that. "Wait, you have an OnlyFans?" you ask, genuinely surprised again. Danielle grins, completely unbothered. "Uh, yeah? Started it last year. Pays way better than that shitty campus bookstore job." She shrugs. "It's totally anonymous, though. No face, mostly just artsy body shots, feet pics... you know the drill. Helps pay for tuition. And, uh, ridiculously fun spring break trips." She winks. Hanni lets out another enormous yawn, snuggling closer to you. "Okay, fun talk later," she murmurs, her eyes already closed again. "So tired. Need... shower. Sleep. In that order."

Danielle nods. "Yeah, probably a good call. I feel like I ran a marathon." Minji makes a noise of agreement, already half-asleep again. Slowly, reluctantly, the cuddle pile disbands.

Showers are taken, brief and functional this time, washing away the lingering stickiness. Towels are wrapped, weary goodnights are exchanged, and everyone retreats to their respective rooms (or, in your and Hanni's case, collapses back onto the now slightly less chaotic bed, with new sheets, of course). Sleep claims you almost instantly, pulling you down into a deep, dreamless, and much-needed oblivion.

—

The next morning arrives with the subtlety of a jackhammer inside your skull. Your mouth feels like the bottom of a birdcage, and a vicious migraine is pounding behind your eyes. Fuck, that cheap tequila and those endless cocktails definitely caught up with you. You groan, rolling over carefully, and realize the other side of the bed is empty. Hanni's gone. The sheets beside you are cool. You glance down at yourself; yep, still completely naked. Clearly, exhaustion trumped any thoughts of pajamas last night. Hauling yourself upright feels like a monumental effort. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, your head protesting violently. Clothes. Need clothes. You find your shorts and a t-shirt from yesterday crumpled on the floor and pull them on, feeling a little more human.

Leaving the relative darkness of the bedroom, you venture out into the main living area, squinting against the bright daylight flooding in from the balcony. Danielle is sitting at the kitchen counter, slowly sipping from a large mug, looking surprisingly put-together despite the previous night's debauchery. Her hair is damp, and she’s wearing fresh shorts and a tank top.

"Morning, sunshine," she greets you, her voice quiet, sympathetic. "Rough night?"

You grunt in response, shuffling towards the counter. "Something like that. Migraine from hell."

She pushes a mug towards you. "Figured. Made coffee. Black and strong. Should help."

You take it gratefully, the warmth seeping into your hands, the bitter aroma promising some relief. "Thanks, Dani. You're a lifesaver. Where's, uh... everyone else?" Danielle takes another sip of her coffee. "Hanni and Minji woke up disgustingly early. Said something about wanting to hit that little boutique we saw yesterday before it got crowded. Apparently, Minji spotted a dress she 'absolutely needed'." She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "I told them they were insane, but you know Hanni when she gets an idea. I was still half-dead, so I stayed."

You nod, taking a cautious sip of the hot coffee. It scalds your tongue but feels necessary. "Makes sense," you manage. You lean against the counter, the events of the previous night slowly filtering back through the hangover haze. "So, uh," you start, feeling slightly awkward bringing it up in the harsh light of day, "OnlyFans, huh? Still kinda surprised." Danielle just shrugs, swirling her coffee. "Hey, gotta pay the bills, right? College ain't cheap, and honestly? It's kinda empowering sometimes. Plus, like I said, totally anonymous. No one I know knows it's me. It's just... content." She gives you a small smile. "Helps pay for fun shit like this trip, too. Worth it."

You finish your coffee, the caffeine slowly starting to chip away at the edges of the migraine. "So, what's the plan for today? Just wait for them to get back?" Danielle sets her mug down. "Actually," she says, turning on her stool to face you fully. "I already have plans. And I kinda need your help." You raise an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What's up?" She leans forward slightly. "Remember I told you about my OF? Well, I need new content. And while researching stuff to do here, I found this amazing little beach, super secluded, like, you gotta hike a bit to get there? Supposedly the lighting in the late morning is incredible." She pauses, looking at you expectantly. "And?" you prompt. "And," she continues, a slow smirk spreading across her face, "I need a photographer. Someone I trust. Someone who... appreciates the subject matter." She holds your gaze. "Interested in helping a girl out?"

The implication is clear. A secluded beach, just the two of you, and she needs photos for her OnlyFans. You think about it for a second. It sounds incredibly daring, potentially awkward, but also... intriguing. And she did seem pretty convinced last night you could 'handle the workload'. "Okay," you say slowly. "Yeah, okay. I can play photographer. As long as it's really secluded." Danielle beams. "Perfect! Trust me, it is. I'll grab my phone. You can have breakfast on the way. Let's go."

—

True to her word, the hike isn't trivial, involving a winding path down a jungle-covered hillside, but the destination is worth it. It’s a small cove, maybe fifty yards across, bookended by dramatic volcanic rocks, with fine white sand and impossibly clear turquoise water. And most importantly, it's completely empty. Just you, Danielle, and the sound of the gentle waves.

"See?" Danielle says triumphantly, gesturing around. "Told you. Totally private." She drops her beach bag onto the sand. "Okay, so here's the deal," she says, turning back to you, suddenly all business. "These pics are definitely for the site. Which means... no bikini." She meets your eyes, gauging your reaction. "You cool with that? Just shooting me... all natural?" You swallow, feeling a familiar heat stir despite the lingering hangover. It's ballsy as hell, but she seems completely confident, and the setting is undeniably private. "Yeah, Dani," you manage. "I'm cool with it. Whatever you need." Her professional demeanor cracks slightly, replaced by a genuinely pleased smile. "Awesome. Okay then." She reaches for the hem of her tank top. "Let's make some art." She hands you her phone, then, without further ceremony, she pulls off her top, then quickly shimmies out of her shorts and panties, leaving them in a small pile on the sand.

She stands before you completely naked, bathed in the bright Caribbean sun, her toned, athletic body looking even more incredible than it did last night. She runs a hand through her long hair, taking a deep breath, then strikes a pose, looking out towards the ocean. "Okay, photographer," she says, glancing back at you over her shoulder, a playful smirk on her lips. "Do your thing."

You lift the phone, centering Danielle in the frame. Even through the small screen, she looks incredible. The bright Caribbean sun highlights every curve, every plane of her toned body. The turquoise water and white sand create a perfect, almost impossibly vibrant backdrop. "Alright," you call out, trying to sound professional despite the slight tremor in your hand, "Hold that pose. Perfect." Click. The first shot is captured. Danielle flows smoothly into another pose, turning slightly, tilting her head back to catch the sun. Click. She's a natural. Not just comfortable naked, but seemingly energized by it, owning the space, owning her body. You start directing her a little more, moving around to get different angles. "Okay, walk towards the water slowly," you suggest. She obeys, her tight ass flexing with each step as she walks away from you towards the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

You snap several shots of her back, the curve of her spine, the way the sunlight kisses her shoulders. "Stop there," you call out when the water is just swirling around her ankles. "Turn back towards me." She does. The water sparkles around her feet. Click. Click.

"How about by those rocks?" she suggests, pointing towards a cluster of dark volcanic boulders at one end of the cove. "Yeah, good idea." You follow her as she makes her way over, her bare feet sinking slightly into the wet sand. She leans against one of the larger rocks, the dark, rough texture contrasting sharply with her smooth, pale skin. She tries different poses; leaning back casually, arching her back slightly, running a hand slowly down her own flat stomach, tracing the line of her incredible abs. You capture it all, zooming in sometimes to focus on the details, the way a drop of water traces a path down her side, the taut curve of her small, perky breast, the intense look in her eyes. She's ridiculously photogenic; the camera absolutely loves her.

Every angle seems to work, every casual movement looks like a deliberately sexy pose. And yeah, she's hot as absolute hell. Seeing her like this, completely bare, owning her sexuality so confidently for her 'work', is incredibly arousing, hangover be damned. You take shot after shot, finding interesting angles, playing with the light and shadows created by the rocks. She lies down on the warm sand near the water's edge, letting the shallow waves wash over her legs, arching her back, pushing her breasts towards the sun. You get low, capturing the image from just above the sand, her body stretched out, glistening, utterly captivating. This is definitely prime OnlyFans content. You keep shooting, losing track of time, completely absorbed in documenting every stunning inch of Danielle's naked body against the breathtaking backdrop of the secluded St. Lucian beach.

After what feels like an hour, maybe more, under the relentless Caribbean sun, you finally lower the phone. "Okay," you say, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow. "I think... I think we got it. Seriously, Dani, there's some amazing stuff here." You quickly scroll through the gallery, showing her a few highlights: a dramatic shot against the black rocks, a sensual one of her lying in the surf, a playful one where she's laughing, completely unselfconscious. Danielle crowds close, peering at the screen, her naked body brushing against your arm. "Holy shit," she breathes, her eyes widening. "Okay, yeah. These are... wow. Way better than trying to do timer selfies." She grins, looking genuinely pleased. "See? Told you I needed a good photographer." She gives your arm a grateful squeeze. "Thanks. Seriously. You're a lifesaver... and apparently, a pretty decent cameraman.

She starts gathering her clothes. "Gonna take forever to edit these, gotta crop out my face perfectly from every single one, but yeah. Definitely some good material here for the paying customers." She dresses quickly, the easy confidence returning as she pulls her tank top back on. “Okay, now let's get out of here.”

—

Back to villa, the fresh breeze of the forest is a godsend. You push through the door to find Hanni sprawled belly-down across the couch in a striped towel, hair tied up, face buried in the phone, as usual. Minji’s by the kitchen counter, eating sliced mango with a fork straight from the plate, wearing one of those comfortable breezy linen rompers.

“There they are,” Hanni says without looking up. “Did you two fuck on the beach?”

You blink.

Danielle grins and drops the bag on a chair. “Nah. Not this time.”

Minji raises an eyebrow. “So you did something.”

Danielle walks over and steals a piece of mango from her fork. “Only art, babe. Just art.”

You toss your shirt over a chair and drop down beside Hanni on the couch, her legs still damp from a rinse, bare skin sticking to the cushions. She shifts to make room, tucking herself under your arm. The rest of the day? Exactly what vacation should be. Drinks with stupid garnishes. Cheap sunglasses from the tourist shop down the hill. Hanni drags everyone to a food stand she found on Instagram that sells jerk chicken so spicy you end up chugging a full bottle of water before Minji, smug as hell, offers you a frozen guava drink she “accidentally” ordered two of.

You all climb some rocky bluff for photos, Hanni nearly falling off trying to get the angle with the sun behind her, and then hit the beach again—this time, public, packed with bodies, neon umbrellas, inflatable flamingos bobbing in the surf. No one fucks around there, obviously, but you do get to watch Danielle sunbathe topless under the guise of “European energy” while Hanni builds a sand mermaid around Minji’s legs.

By sunset, everyone’s back at the villa, glowing with sunburns and exhaustion, eating too much grilled pineapple from the BBQ stand down the road, and drinking straight from the rum bottle.

And Danielle? She’s been scheming. “Guys,” she says, emerging from her room with a devilish smile and a small, suspiciously plain brown box. “I did a thing.”

Hanni’s stretched across the living room rug in a bikini top and boxers, licking popsicle juice from her wrist. “Oh fuck. What did you buy.”

Danielle drops the box on the table with a thud. “This,” she announces, “is a gift. For Minji.”

Minji looks up, cautious. “That’s never a good sentence.”

Danielle just grins wider. “Trust me. You’ll thank me later.”

She opens the box. Nestled inside is a harness and a thick black strap-on. Smooth. Matte. Very... obvious in intention.

Minji’s eyes go wide. “Dani—”

“You’re always saying you wanna be more adventurous,” Danielle cuts in. “Well. Here’s your chance.”

Hanni perks up immediately. “Wait—wait. Are we doing this? Are we really doing this?”

You just raise an eyebrow. “So, what—four-way? Again?”

Danielle shrugs, already unbuckling her belt. “Obviously.”

—

It only takes one session for Minji to flip the switch.

She doesn’t just “get used” to the strap-on. She fucking thrives with it. Like something dormant inside her wakes up the second she feels the harness hug her hips, the weight of the cock bouncing between her thighs as she moves. At first she still blushes when she straps in—adjusting the buckles, fiddling with the position—but the more she fucks the girls and more she watches you using your cock, the more natural it looks. The way she grips Hanni’s hips now, steady, confident, using slow, grinding thrusts to make her whimper and squirm. The way she plants her feet wide when Danielle sinks down onto her lap, hands clamped hard around Minji’s shoulders, riding the strap until she’s gasping for air.

The first time she makes Hanni cum with it, Minji looks stunned. Hanni's legs are shaking, her body seized up in a full-body tremble, soaking the fake cock and moaning so loud you swear the neighbors heard it. Minji freezes for a second, hands still clutching Hanni's thighs, watching her fall apart.

“I—fuck—did I do that?” Minji stammers, chest heaving.

Danielle, lying sprawled out naked across the bed, just smirks. “You wrecked her, Minji. Fucking legendary.”

Minji starts to grin—huge, uncontrollable—and something settles into her shoulders. After that, there’s no hesitation anymore. She starts owning it, moving with this slow, relentless rhythm that’s honestly almost scarier than being jackhammered—because she knows exactly what she's doing now. How to hit the right angles. How to roll her hips just right so the pressure builds and builds until Hanni's clawing at her back or Danielle’s begging to cum or you're watching in awe, wondering when the fuck she got so dominant.

She talks more too, low and quiet, the kind of dirty talk that makes your dick twitch without needing to shout. Grabbing Hanni by the throat while she’s riding her and murmuring, “Yeah, take it all, baby. Take it deeper. You can take it, I know you can.” Bending Danielle over the kitchen counter and growling, “You’re not done yet. You stay there ‘til I say.”

One afternoon, Minji’s got Hanni pinned against the wall outside the bathroom, towel half-falling off her body, the harness peeking out under the loose shirt Minji never bothered taking off. She's grinding into Hanni’s pussy slow and mean, Hanni’s hands scrabbling at her arms, thighs trembling. You and Danielle just stand there watching like total pervs, fresh out of the shower, dripping wet, unable to look away.

"Fuck, Minji," Danielle says, voice low and breathless, eyes wide. "You're so fucking hot like this."

Minji flashes a shy smile at that—just for a second—before grabbing Hanni’s face in one hand and kissing her hard enough to shut her up mid-whimper. She keeps fucking her against the wall, slow and steady, until Hanni melts into a sobbing orgasm right there, the towel falling to the floor.

Later that night, Minji's sprawled on the bed, sweaty and exhausted, the strap still hanging off her hips, her head turned toward you. "I get it now," she says, voice hoarse. "I fucking love it. Being the one... giving it." She laughs, breathless. "It's... it’s like being drunk on power."

And you grin back, still half-hard just from watching her ruin the girls one by one. "Told you it suits you."

Minji hums, smug now, one hand idly stroking down her own thigh. "Think I'm gonna make this a regular thing."

She does.

It becomes routine, almost. Minji taking the lead, pulling the harness on with slow, confident movements, snapping the straps tight around her waist like armor. Danielle bending over for her without a second thought. Hanni climbing into her lap like it’s her seat. You swapping with Minji sometimes, tag-teaming—her in Hanni’s ass while you fuck her pussy, or you both working Danielle over until she’s crying, too full to move, babbling nonsense.

You and Minji develop this synergy without even having to talk about it. She reads your cues, you read hers. If she pushes in slow, you pound harder. If you slow down to edge one of them, she speeds up, relentless, keeping the pressure high until the girls are shaking and begging to cum again.

One night, you’re double-penetrating Hanni on the couch—Minji behind her with the strap-on buried deep in her ass, you fucking her pussy from the front. She’s sobbing between you, thighs quivering, toes curling into the couch cushions.

"Too much," Hanni whimpers, eyes rolling back.

"You love it," Minji breathes against her neck, thrusting deeper. "You're fucking made for this."

Hanni chokes on a scream when you both bottom out at the same time, the sensation overwhelming her. She squirts hard, drenching both your thighs, her body convulsing violently.

Minji kisses the side of her face, slow and almost tender. "Good girl," she whispers. "Such a good fucking girl."

You pull out after, letting her collapse into a shaking heap, and Minji strokes her hair while you both watch Hanni twitch and whimper through the aftershocks.

Danielle gets it worse the next night—Minji holding her down by the back of her neck, forcing her to stay in position while you fuck her raw. She’s drooling onto the sheets by the time you both finish, legs too weak to even close around you. Minji pulls out first, tugging the dildo free with a wet pop, and you thrust a few more times before cumming inside Dani, filling her pussy with heat and making her moan brokenly into the pillow.

"Fucking ruined," Danielle mumbles, slurred, dazed. "God... best spring break... of my fucking life."

Hanni, half-asleep nearby, giggles and claps weakly. "Praise be... to the stress relief committee..."

Minji just laughs, rolling onto her back, tossing the harness onto the floor like a discarded trophy.

You lie there, muscles sore, cock still twitching faintly, staring at the slow-turning ceiling fan overhead. Listening to the girls’ soft laughter, their satisfied little sighs as they drift closer to sleep.

—

Every single day melts into the next, sharpening your purpose here until it's diamond-hard. You're not just the guy Hanni brought along for stress relief anymore, not just the dude who can fuck them right, though you definitely excel at that. No, you've become something more fundamental to their vacation ecosystem: their favorite tool. Their dedicated service dom. The one who instinctively knows Hanni needs her ass slapped harder without asking, the one who sees Danielle adjusting her position for a better filming angle and holds her steady, the one who helps Minji adjust the strap-on harness until it sits just right across her hips.

You listen; not just to the words, but to the hitches in breath, the clench of muscles, the flicker in their eyes. You read the damn room, anticipating needs, fulfilling fantasies they barely knew they had until you offered them up. You act without needing to be told twice, a silent understanding passing between you, yet you always ask before crossing a new line, checking in with a low murmur, "Like this?", "Harder?", "Tell me what you want." Your entire fucking existence on this island has distilled down to facilitating their pleasure, maximizing their release, ensuring their needs are met above all else. And the crazy part? They’ve leaned into it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you were specifically designed and delivered just for them, their perfect, obedient, pleasure-giving machine.

Hanni is, unsurprisingly, the boldest, the most demanding in her casual ownership. She doesn’t really ask for things so much as state facts, her requests delivered with the breezy entitlement of someone ordering room service. She’ll stretch out naked on the sun-drenched sheets after a lazy afternoon nap, legs spread slightly, and just murmur, "Eat me," without even looking up from her phone. And you? You're between her thighs before the words fully register, nose buried in her heat, tongue already tracing patterns against her clit. "Mmm, yeah," she sigh, dropping her phone and tangling her hands in your hair, grinding her hips down against your face. "Just like that, fuck... don't stop." Her tone is always low purr, punctuated by sharp gasps and breathy giggles as you work her over. "God, your tongue is fucking magic... right there..."

She rides your mouth like she owns it, hips bucking, controlling the pressure, whispering filthy encouragements—lick me harder, faster, yeah, suck my clit, make me cum—until she inevitably shatters. She always comes fast and hard when it’s just your mouth, twitching all over, thighs clamping around your head like a vise, hips giving one last desperate jerk before she collapses, panting, demanding you lick her clean until the last aftershock fades. "Good boy," she sigh, patting your head dismissively, already reaching for her phone again.

Danielle, true to her director's eye, is more methodical, more precise in her desires. She knows exactly what she wants, how she wants it, and isn't shy about articulating it. She’ll pause mid-sentence while talking about editing software, catch your eye, then step directly in front of you, blocking your path. "Tits," she state simply, pulling your face towards her bare chest (because clothes are increasingly optional in the villa). "Suck ‘em. Feeling sensitive today, need the pressure." You obey instantly, palming her small, firm breasts, taking a nipple into your mouth, licking, sucking gently at first. She watch your mouth on her skin with unnerving focus, then bite her lip. "Harder," she command, her voice dropping an octave. "Use your teeth a little. Yeah." You adjust immediately, pulling harder, grazing the soft skin with your teeth just enough to make her gasp, her breath catching sharply. "Fuck... yes," she whisper, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

Listening to her is like hearing a porn script being dictated by the star who's also directing—incredibly specific instructions: "Okay, now circle the left one with your tongue, slower... yeah... now bite the right one, just a pinch..." mixed with genuine, breathless reactions "Shit, that feels good... oh fuck, keep doing that...". It's never fake, though; it’s just her being hyper-aware of her own body, meticulously guiding you towards the sensations that make her feel incredible, that get her off exactly the way she wants.

And Minji? Sweet, surprising Minji is all about the exploration, the learning. She watches everything. She observes the way you hold Hanni's hips when you fuck her from behind, the exact pressure Danielle likes when you suck her nipples, the rhythm that makes Hanni scream the loudest. Then, later, when she straps on the harness, and you help her, making sure the straps are snug, applying the lube generously, your fingers slow and firm against her skin as you check the fit—she mimics what she's seen. She’ll look down at you, eyes wide with concentration and a flicker of that newfound dominance, adjusting the thick black cock slightly. "Will you guide me again?" she ask, especially those first few times. You nod, kneeling beside her and Danielle, or her and Hanni, placing your hand over hers on the base of the dildo, coaching her on the angle, the depth. "Slow," you murmur, "Let her take it... yeah, now push deeper... feel how she clenches?" You guide her through the initial thrusts until she finds her confidence, until her hips start moving with a steady, powerful rhythm of her own.

Then you switch, and she watches intently as you take over, pinning Danielle face down, pounding into her just a little rougher than Minji dared, making Danielle shriek and beg for more. Minji studies the angle of your hips, the grip of your hands, the look in Danielle's eyes, absorbing it all. And guaranteed, the next time Minji has Danielle begging beneath her, she'll incorporate that exact move, that specific rhythm, pushing her own boundaries, feeding her appetite for control, the intoxicating power of inflicting overwhelming pleasure.

They ask. You give. Simple as that. Hanni needs a foot massage while Danielle films Minji eating her out? Done. Danielle needs you to hold the camera steady with one hand while fucking her with the other, whispering specific dirty phrases she thinks her subs will like? No problem. Minji wants you to tie her wrists loosely to the headboard with one of Hanni’s discarded bikini tops while she rides you, just to see what it feels like? Absolutely. Your purpose is service, and damn, you're good at it.

And Danielle’s phone camera is practically a fifth member of the group now, always seemingly lurking, always potentially rolling. Her OnlyFans project becomes a collaborative effort, fueled by exhibitionism, alcohol, and a shared desire to capture the raw heat of their vacation. It's her body, her rules, her creative vision directing the shots, but you and the other girls are willing participants on both sides of the lens. One ridiculously lazy afternoon, sunlight streaming into the master bedroom, Danielle drags the big floor mirror from the corner, positioning it carefully near the foot of the bed to capture reflections, different angles. She hands you her phone, already set up on a small, flexible tripod she apparently packed.

"Okay," she says, stripping off her sundress and panties with zero fanfare. "New concept: POV masturbation, but like... make it art." She climbs onto the sheets, positioning herself facing the mirror, legs spread invitingly. "Just film what turns you on," she instructs, meeting your eyes with a challenging grin. "Focus on the details. If it gets you hard watching it, trust me, it'll be hot to them."

So you film. You position the phone on the tripod, focusing tightly. Her fingers, slick with her own wetness, parting her swollen lips. The way her clit peeks out, already hard and glistening. You follow her hand as she starts rubbing, slow circles at first, then faster, more insistent pressure. Her soft gasps, the way her hips begin to tilt rhythmically off the sheets. You pan up slowly, lingering on the taut muscles of her stomach quivering, the rise and fall of her small breasts. You zoom in on her throat as she swallows hard, her neck arched, then her mouth, lips parted, panting softly. Then, needing to be closer, needing to participate, you let the phone carefully on the tripod, ensuring the angle is still good, and kneel on the bed beside her. You reach out, sliding two fingers deep into her wet heat.

She gasps sharply, eyes flying open, locking with yours in the mirror's reflection. "Is this... part of the plan?" she breathes out. A smirk touches your lips. "Say stop if you want me to." She doesn't. Of course, she doesn't. Instead, she arches her hips harder, pushing herself onto your invading fingers. "Fuck..." The shot captures everything, your hand moving rhythmically, her fingers now frantically working her clit, her thighs shaking. "Oh god... yes," she moans, her voice climbing higher. "Keep going... don't stop... fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing—oh yes—right there—" When she finally comes, tipping over the edge with a strangled cry, the phone capture every second. Her whole body clenching, her toes curling, her stomach trembling violently, a final sob escaping her lips before she collapses back onto the sheets, panting, a dazed, blissful smile spreading across her face. Later, showered and wrapped in towels, she watches the raw footage back, legs curled under her on the sofa. "Holy fuck," she whispers finally, looking up at you. "Okay. Yeah. That'll definitely sell."

Minji even overcomes her lingering shyness enough to get properly in front of the camera, albeit usually with Danielle directing and Hanni providing enthusiastic, often obscene, commentary from behind the lens. One night, after way too much rum, Danielle sets the phone up on the nightstand, framing the bed perfectly. She immediately climbs onto her back, pulling Minji down on top of her, hooking her knees over Minji’s shoulders, already wet and giggling. "Okay, Action!" Hanni yells, hitting record with a flourish. "Make her moan loud, Minji! I want everyone on this island to hear her being a whore!" Minji, strapped securely into her harness, hesitates for only a second before fucking down into Danielle, slow and deliberate at first. Dani whimpers instantly, toes curling. "Shit—Minji—already? Fuck—don’t stop—" she gasps out, arching her back, her small breasts bouncing with every deep thrust.

You’re kneeling beside the bed again, playing your assigned support role, one hand stroking Danielle’s trembling thigh, the other finding her clit, rubbing tight little circles, perfectly syncing your rhythm with Minji’s steady pace. Danielle is shaking, completely overwhelmed, by the time she cums, moaning loud enough to satisfy even Hanni, clenching hard around the silicone cock, the whole raw, intimate scene captured perfectly. Danielle edits it later, adding soft filters, cutting just before faces are fully visible, layering some innocuous indie music over the raw audio. The result is surprisingly beautiful: intimate, intensely sensual, undeniably dirty, and utterly compelling.

You even manage to film the DP scene Hanni keeps drunkenly demanding. It takes coordination, lots of lube, and Danielle being incredibly greedy and wrecked on cocktails. She’s face down, ass up, babbling incoherently, drool dampening the pillow beneath her cheek as Minji carefully slides the thick strap-on into her tight ass while you simultaneously fuck her pussy from behind. It’s intense, borderline chaotic. "Easy, easy," you murmur, coaching Minji on the angle while your own cock stretches Danielle’s cunt. Minji leans over Danielle's back from behind, whispering dirty talk directly into her ear, "Such a good girl for us... taking both our cocks... look how stretched out you are..." Your hands grip Danielle’s waist, trying to hold her steady as she bucks and moans beneath the double penetration.

You manage to keep the phone propped on a pillow relatively steady, switching hands when one starts to cramp, capturing the overwhelming sight of Danielle being thoroughly used, completely filled. She begs you both not to stop. You don't. Not until she’s screaming, coming so hard she probably does forget her own name, her body convulsing violently between you. Capturing that raw, uncontrolled release feels like a sacred, filthy duty.

Sunlight slants through the windows in the mornings, illuminating the beautiful wreckage; bite marks blooming on inner thighs, faint scratches down someone's back from frantic gripping, lube streaks drying on bare skin, discarded clothing forming abstract sculptures on the floor. You clean up together, making coffee shirtless, wandering naked onto the balcony to check the surf. Touch is constant, casual, affectionate, possessive. Hanni grabs your ass possessively every time you walk past the sofa where she’s lounging. Minji presses a soft, unexpected kiss to your cheek while you're both reaching for the orange juice. Danielle sits on your lap without warning, and you automatically wrap your arms around her waist.

They don’t just use you. They like you.

You’re part of the group now. Not just Hanni’s secret hookup. Not just a vacation fling.

You’re theirs. Just like they’re yours.

—

The last couple of days in St. Lucia take on a slightly different energy. The frantic exploration and hedonistic frenzy ease into a slower, more savoring pace. There's an unspoken awareness that the bubble is about to burst, that the real world with its deadlines and responsibilities looms just beyond the horizon. You spend the final afternoon on your favorite stretch of beach, not doing much of anything, just floating in the impossibly blue water, sharing a bottle of lukewarm rosé smuggled from the villa, soaking up the last rays of Caribbean sun. Packing later that evening is a subdued affair. Clothes smell faintly of salt, sand, and coconut sunscreen. Souvenirs are carefully wrapped. Danielle meticulously backs up the hundreds of photos (both SFW and very NSFW) from her phone onto a portable drive. Minji stares longingly out the balcony window, while Hanni seems unusually quiet, a thoughtful expression on her face.

You all gather on the balcony for one last sunset, cheap beers in hand. The sky explodes in fiery oranges and purples over the lush green hills. For a while, no one speaks, just watching the spectacle, lost in thought. "Well," Danielle says finally, breaking the comfortable silence, "That didn't suck." Her tone is light, but there's an undercurrent of genuine emotion. Minji nods, leaning her head against Danielle’s shoulder. "It was..." she searches for the word, "...perfect. Even better than I let myself imagine." Hanni sighs dramatically, taking a long swig of her beer. "Best. Idea. Ever," she reiterates, bumping her shoulder against yours. "See? You guys should always listen to me." She looks around at the group, her expression softening. "Seriously though... this was amazing. All of it." You feel a surge of gratitude, mixed with the bittersweet pang of the trip ending. "It really was," you agree, looking at each of them in turn. "Seriously, guys... thanks. For letting me crash your girls' trip. For..." You hesitate, unsure how to articulate the rest; the acceptance, the adventures, the incredible sex, the unexpected connection. "...For everything. It was fucking incredible."

Danielle reaches over and squeezes your knee. "Are you kidding? You surviving us was the incredible part." She laughs. "Couldn't have done it without our resident stress-reliever slash photographer slash obedient dom." Minji smiles warmly. "Yeah. It wouldn't have been the same without you. You just... fit." The easy acceptance in her voice makes something warm settle in your chest. It feels true. Somewhere between the shared drinks, the tourist traps, the tangled sheets, and the drunken confessions, the dynamic shifted irrevocably. Hanni nods, though a familiar possessive glint enters her eyes. "Okay, okay, group hug, whatever," she says, waving a dismissive hand, though she leans closer against you. "But let's be clear," she adds, poking you in the ribs, her tone mostly playful but with an edge of seriousness, "He's still my property, technically. I found him first. First dibs still apply indefinitely."

Danielle and Minji burst out laughing. "Oh my god, Hanni!" Danielle exclaims. "Still calling dibs? After everything?" Hanni shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but failing. "Hey! Finder's keepers. Sharing is fine, but ownership is key."

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, Han. I remember the terms and conditions." The implication hangs there; this isn't just the end of a vacation fling. The connection forged here, the complicated, messy, exhilarating dynamic between the four of you, feels like something more permanent. The promise of future moments, future adventures, future tangled nights, hangs unspoken but palpable in this warm twilight air... Yeah, the trio is definitely a foursome now, whether Hanni wants to admit shared ownership or not.

[hrrtshape]

insane, dream-like things that were normal in my better cr . . . in other words, what it was like being part of the 1%

i never carried cash : i didn’t need to. if i ever found myself in a situation where cash was required, idk, a farmer’s market or bribing someone, i’d just apple pay!?

i never waited for anything : reservations were booked months in advance. lines were always skipped. at clubs we just walked right in. theme parks? VIP passes only. i have never stood in a queue longer than 90 seconds in my life...or...in my better cr.

my closet was bigger than a new york apartment : and everything was colour-coded. yep. yep !!!

i never read price tags : not because i was being reckless, because i simply did not need to know. it was always fine.

if i wanted something, i got it : saw a dress in a magazine? had it by the next morning. craved a specific croissant from a bakery in paris? it was flown in. life had no delays.

luxury was so normal i had to actively remind myself it wasn’t : by the 13th day, i would have moments, small ones, where i’d be like, " wait, not everyone has their own perfume custom-blended by a french artisan? " and then i’d move on.

the ‘poor kid’ still had a trust fund. . . they just had less in it.

errands? what errands? dry cleaning, post office, buying toothpaste. these were not my problems.

skincare was medical : not just a ‘good moisturiser’ situation, i mean dermatologist-designed, prescription-only, lab-created serums. my facials involved lasers. my face was someone’s full-time job.

my mom had a florist on retainer : fresh-cut flowers appeared in my room like magic. i never asked for them. they just were.

celebrity run-ins were painfully normal : “oh yeah, we had dinner next to tilda swinton last night.” “who?” WHO?

we never parked our own cars : valet, always. i had a friend who didn’t even know how to use a parking metre.

there was no such thing as ‘saving up’. in those two weeks i never thought, “hmm, should i buy this now or wait till christmas when i get 50 euros from my grandma?” PFTTTTT.

everyone had a ‘family office’ : financial advisers, lawyers, accountants. my money was managed. someone in my school had three.

coffee orders were wildly specific : not ‘latte with oat milk’ specific. i mean custom-roasted beans, flown in from a single farm in costa rica, brewed at a precise temperature, delivered in a monogrammed cup.

doctors made house calls : i have not seen the inside of a waiting room. ever. feeling sick? someone arrived.

vacation homes weren’t a flex, they were a given : there’s the paris apartment (1st arrondissement, obviously), the villa in lake como, the chalet in gstaad. the only real estate question was, “are we summering in capri or st. barths?

your signature scent is impossible to buy : it’s either a discontinued hermès perfume from the ’70s that you miraculously still source, or a custom blend from a perfumer who only takes five clients a year.

flying commercial is a horror story, not an option : tsa? baggage claim? delays? these are foreign concepts. you had a netjets membership at the very least, but most likely, you have a family jet with an interior designed by someone who also did a yacht.

your tastebuds have standards : your daily coffee comes from a faema e61, your eggs are from a private farm, and your idea of a snack is burrata flown in from puglia that morning. did i mention my private school had michelin chefs?? yea.

you own art. like, real art : not prints. not posters. actual, museum-worthy pieces that are either inherited or sourced through galleries that don’t even have websites.

most people don’t know what anything costs : a gallon of milk? no idea. a metro ticket? couldn’t tell you. you swipe, tap, sign, and never check.

you don’t shop in stores like normal people : you go to private showrooms, have pieces sent to your home, or shop off-runway. waiting in line… horrendous.

i’ve had a ‘house account’ somewhere : a boutique, a jeweller, a tailor. places where you don’t pay on the spot, just ‘put it on the account’ and settle later.

i was taught how to eat properly : which fork for what course, how to use a butter knife, the correct way to hold a wine glass. it’s not something i learned. it’s something i absorbed from watching adults at endless dinners, benefits, and polo events.

i don’t remember learning how to ski or ride horses : because i was doing it before i was fully conscious. i have childhood photos in full equestrian gear, little skis strapped to my feet in gstaad or zermatt. it’s just something i always did.

an art education by osmosis : grew up hearing adults talk about rothko, basquiat, and duchamp in casual conversation. dragged to the louvre and the tate before i could even read. instinctively know the difference between an original and a print.

i have a family lawyer on retainer : and not because i ever committed a crime. they exist to handle things. NDAs, reputation management, keeping your name out of the papers. they know where the bodies are buried, metaphorically (or not).

most families’ wealth is so old and so layered in offshore accounts that even they don’t fully understand it : trust funds? sure, but also shell companies in the caymans, art holdings in geneva, real estate portfolios under LLCs. money isn’t in banks. it’s spread across continents.

most parents’ have had affairs with each other for decades, and it’s not even a scandal anymore : it’s just part of the ecosystem. marriages aren’t about love, they’re alliances. the wives turn a blind eye, the husbands keep it discreet, and the real betrayal is talking about it.

i’ve been name-dropped in a deposition : it was a divorce case. i was never involved, but my name was adjacent to power, so it got dragged in. the case was settled out of court, of course.

most families has multiple passports : not for fun, not for aesthetics. because sometimes you need an exit strategy. a villa in capri, a château in france, a penthouse in dubai. doors are always open, should you ever need to disappear.

i’ve seen actual generational feuds play out in real time : my parents have enemies. their parents had enemies. the grudges go back decades, and nobody even remembers what started it.

i grew up around people who have gotten away with actual crimes : white-collar, mostly. insider trading, fraud, tax evasion. but sometimes things darker. people go to rehab, people “retire early,” people take extended trips to monaco until things cool down.

i’ve seen billionaires (and their kids) break down over the pettiest things : a bad seat at a gala, a misplaced monogram on their jet, a slight from someone whose family has less money than theirs. the richer they are, the more fragile they get.

my family has a pr strategy : this is largely because my mom is a ceo of a billion dollar company. and everything is managed. what photos are released, what stories are planted, which journalists are “friendly.” nothing is random.

i know that philanthropy is often just money laundering with better optics : charities set up for tax reasons, “foundations” that quietly funnel wealth back into the family, billionaire donations that conveniently coincide with favourable legislation.

i’ve seen people lose their fortunes overnight : one wrong deal, one lawsuit, one scandal that sticks, and suddenly, the private jets are getting repossessed. the real old money…they watch from a distance. they never risk everything.

i know that some billionaires don’t actually have liquid cash : they’re over-leveraged, playing financial gymnastics with their own net worth. yachts, art, mansions. but the second they need actual money? suddenly, things get complicated. this is why everyone in my school donated possessions instead of actual money.

met people who don’t own their clothes : couture is loaned, jewellery is borrowed, yachts are rented to themselves through shell companies. it’s all about optics. they don’t need to own when they can access.

heard rich kids joke about things that would make normal people physically ill : laughing about tax evasion, casually mentioning private rehabs like summer camp, making bets on stocks that could ruin lives.

met billionaires who are bored of being rich : the thrill is gone. the yachts, the jets, the parties. it’s routine. they start chasing danger. high-stakes gambling, extreme sports, secret societies. anything to feel something.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Like Us

Where Y/N and Harry thought they had lost each other, fate gives them a second chance.

Word Count: 7,222

Content Warning: Cursing, alcohol, mentions of Zayn leaving.

Y/N had been with Harry through it all. Through the late-night calls filled with exhaustion, the frantic texts that barely scratched the surface of what he was feeling, the moments of silence where he didn’t have the words to explain what was breaking inside him. She had been there before Zayn left, and she was still there now, following him on tour like a quiet anchor in the chaos.

The energy backstage wasn’t the same anymore. Ever since Zayn had left, there was a palpable shift—like a table missing a leg, still standing but wobbling with every move. The crowds were still loud, the shows still electric, but behind the scenes, it was different. Unease lingered in the air like a storm waiting to break.

On his days off, they escaped together. Away from the arenas, the cameras, the questions. They did the kind of touristy things that made Harry feel like himself again—exploring tiny coffee shops tucked into side streets, wandering through museums with their hands intertwined, laughing at the ridiculous souvenirs in gift shops. She took pictures of him when he wasn’t looking, the city lights reflecting in his green eyes, the weight on his shoulders momentarily lighter.

But even in those moments, she could see it. The exhaustion. The restlessness. The way his mind was always somewhere else, thinking about something he wasn’t saying.

It was late, the city glowing beneath them as they sat on the small balcony of their hotel room. Paris had been a dream—long walks along the Seine, stolen kisses in quiet cafés, pretending for just a little while that the world outside didn’t exist. But now, reality was creeping back in, threading itself between them like an unwelcome guest.

Y/N glanced at Harry beside her, his gaze distant as he traced patterns on the rim of his wine glass. He had been quiet all day, his usual spark dulled by something he wasn’t saying. She knew him well enough to wait, to let him come to her when he was ready.

Eventually, he sighed, leaning back against his chair. “The band’s ending soon.”

The words weren’t surprising, but hearing them aloud still made her chest tighten. “You don’t know that.”

Harry let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “I do. Even if we don’t say it outright, even if we call it a hiatus, we all know what it really means.” He looked over at her, his green eyes filled with something heavy. “It’s not gonna be the same after this.”

Y/N studied him, searching for something—reassurance, maybe, or hope—but all she found was exhaustion. “Is that what you want?”

He exhaled, running a hand through his curls. “I don’t know. I just know I need… something to change. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He turned his gaze to the city below, watching the headlights blur together in streaks of gold and red. “And if it ends… I don’t know who I am outside of it.”

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his, grounding him the way she always had. “You’re still you, Harry. Band or no band.”

He squeezed her hand, but the look in his eyes told her something she wasn’t ready to hear.

“I think,” he said slowly, carefully, like he was testing the words as he spoke them, “there’s gonna be a break.”

The air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken things. Y/N felt the weight of it settling in her bones, but she didn’t let go. Not yet.

And Harry was right.

A few months later, the band officially announced their hiatus. At first, it was meant to be temporary. Just a few months to rest, to breathe, to figure things out. But as time passed, the months stretched longer than expected.

One night the rain tapped lightly against the windows of Y/N’s apartment, the soft hum of an old record playing in the background. Harry sat on the couch, one leg bent beneath him, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the ring on his index finger. He had been quiet all night, lost in thought, his gaze distant even when she spoke.

Y/N curled up beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. “You’re thinking,” she murmured, her voice soft.

He let out a small breath of laughter, tilting his head toward hers. “Always am.”

She pulled back slightly to look at him, her fingers brushing over his arm. “What is it?”

Harry hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip like he was trying to find the right words. Finally, he exhaled. “I think I wanna do something on my own for a bit.”

Y/N’s brows lifted, but she didn’t look surprised—just curious. “Music?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, I love the band, always will, but… I wanna see what I can do by myself, y’know? Find out what my sound is. And—” He hesitated again, his fingers still fidgeting with his ring. “I think I wanna try acting, too. I’ve always wanted to, and now feels like the right time.”

Y/N watched him for a moment, taking in the way he spoke—cautious, hopeful, nervous. She reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I think that’s amazing, Harry.”

He glanced at her, his lips parting slightly. “You do?”

She smiled. “Of course I do. You’ve always talked about wanting to try acting, and your own music? That’s exciting.”

He nodded, exhaling like he’d been holding it in. The rain kept falling, the record kept spinning, and for now, they sat there together, wrapped in the quiet of what came next.

Harry was quiet for a long moment, his fingers lightly tracing circles on the back of Y/N’s hand. The rain outside filled the silence between them, steady and rhythmic, but inside, everything felt still—like the moment before something irreversible happened.

He finally looked up at her, his green eyes filled with something heavy. “I’m gonna be busy a lot,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “With the music, with acting… with figuring out who I am outside of all this.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, a sinking feeling creeping in. “I know,” she said softly, watching him carefully.

Harry swallowed, his grip on her hand tightening for just a second before loosening. “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And because I love you… because I respect you… I don’t think I can be in a relationship right now. Not while I’m trying to figure myself out.”

The words felt like a slow, unraveling thread, pulling apart everything they had built. Y/N held onto his gaze, searching for something—maybe a way to change his mind, maybe a way to understand. But deep down, she already knew.

She nodded once, her throat tight. 

Everything shifted.

Y/N felt her breath hitch, her fingers trembling slightly in his grasp. “Harry…” she started, but she didn’t know how to finish.

His face twisted in pain, like he hated every word coming out of his own mouth. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I don’t want to do this, love. God, I don’t. But I need to.”

Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes. “Why?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Why do you think we can’t figure it out together?”

Harry inhaled sharply, his hand cupping hers, like he was trying to memorize the feel of her skin. “Because I don’t know who I am right now. And I can’t drag you into that mess. I can’t ask you to sit around waiting while I run off chasing things I don’t even fully understand yet.” He let out a shaky breath. “You deserve someone who is sure, someone who can be there for you in every way. And I—I don’t know if I can be that person right now.”

Tears slipped down Y/N’s cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away, hating how fragile she felt. “But you love me.” It wasn’t a question; it was a desperate grasp for something solid, something real.

Harry’s eyes softened, filling with sorrow and something deeper—something that hurt just as much as it loved. “With everything in me,” he said. “I love you so much that it physically hurts to say this.” He let out a broken laugh, running a hand through his curls before gripping the back of his neck. “I hate this, Y/N. I hate myself for saying it. But if we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back.”

Her chin trembled as she tried to process it all. “And what if we don’t?”

Harry’s breath hitched. He blinked rapidly, like he was trying to keep his own tears from falling. “Then I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what if.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, willing herself to stay strong, but her heart was shattering. “I don’t know how to be without you.”

He let out a soft, broken sound, his forehead falling to rest against hers. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once,” he whispered. “Just promise me something.”

She swallowed hard. “What?”

“When the time comes—if we ever get another chance—promise me you’ll let me fight for you.”

A sob escaped her lips, and she closed her eyes, feeling his warmth, memorizing the way he smelled, the way he held her like she was something precious. She didn’t know how to promise him that. She didn’t know if she could.

But in that moment, with her heart breaking in his hands, she whispered the only word she could.

“Okay.”

And just like that, it was over.

They laid together for a long time, neither speaking, neither moving—just breathing in the same space, clinging to the last moments before everything changed. Y/N listened to the steady rhythm of Harry’s heartbeat beneath her cheek, memorizing the way it sounded, the way it felt against her skin.

His hand ran absentmindedly up and down her arm, slow and soothing, like he was trying to calm them both, like he wanted to keep this moment suspended in time. But time didn’t stop. It never did.

Eventually, he stirred, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head before shifting beneath her. She knew what was coming before he even said it, but hearing the words still made her stomach twist.

“I should go home,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

Y/N didn’t move, didn’t lift her head from his chest. If she did, it would make this real. And she wasn’t ready.

Harry exhaled shakily and brought his fingers beneath her chin, gently tilting her face up so she had no choice but to look at him. His green eyes were glossy, his expression torn, his lips parted like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he leaned in, pressing the softest, most devastating kiss to her lips—slow, full of love, full of sorrow, full of everything they still were but couldn’t be anymore.

When he pulled away, he lingered for just a second, his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her skin. Then, without another word, he stood.

She didn’t watch him leave. She couldn’t.

That night, she laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin. She waited for sleep, but it never came—not that night, not the next, not for a long, long time.

And even when exhaustion finally won, she woke up empty. Every single time.

Five Years Later

The late afternoon sun streamed through Y/N’s apartment windows as she flipped through the stack of mail she had just pulled from the box. Bills, a few random flyers, and then—her fingers paused as she caught sight of an envelope with elegant gold script.

Her heart lifted immediately.

Tearing it open, she pulled out a beautifully embossed wedding invitation, the words practically sparkling off the page: Mallory & Ethan—Join us as we celebrate our love!

A grin spread across Y/N’s face. She barely took a moment to admire the details before grabbing her phone and dialing.

It rang twice before a familiar voice answered. “If this isn’t Y/N calling to say she got my invitation, I will be thoroughly disappointed.”

Y/N laughed. “Guess you won’t be disappointed, then.”

Mal squealed on the other end. “You got it!”

“Of course I did. And obviously, I’ll be there. Like I’d miss my best friend’s wedding.”

“Ugh, I’m so excited! It’s getting so real now. I was just finalizing the seating chart and—wait.” Mal gasped dramatically. “Are you bringing a date? Tell me you’re finally letting some poor soul take you out.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling as she walked into her kitchen and leaned against the counter. “No, Mal. I’m not into dating right now.”

Mal groaned. “It has been years, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“And you’re telling me no one has caught your interest? Not a single, ridiculously attractive, emotionally stable man?”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Nope. No one’s been worth the effort.”

Mal sighed in defeat. “Fine, fine. You can be my honorary date instead.”

Y/N grinned. “Gladly.”

The girls dissolved into laughter, the excitement buzzing between them. It was going to be a beautiful day, a celebration of love.

The following months passed in a blur of wedding excitement—not hers, but Mal’s. Still, as Y/N shopped for a dress, something about it felt personal in a way she hadn’t expected.

She stood in front of the fitting room mirror, smoothing her hands over the fabric of yet another gown. It wasn’t even white, just a simple, elegant dress for a bridesmaid. But every time she looked at herself, every time she turned to see how it moved, her mind wandered to a place she tried so hard to ignore.

What would Harry think if he saw me in this?

And then the thoughts spiraled.

What would I look like standing next to him at a wedding? What if it were our wedding?

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to shake the thoughts away, but they always came back.

Harry had always been the one. Even when he wasn’t.

They used to talk about it—getting married. Not in a serious, let’s-plan-this-right-now way, but in the way that two people who love each other deeply do when they think forever is inevitable.

She could still picture it—late nights in bed, her head resting on his bare chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns over his tattooed skin.

“What would your dream wedding be like?” he had asked once, his voice thick with sleep.

Y/N had smiled, shifting so she could look up at him. “Small,” she had said. “Somewhere beautiful. Maybe Italy or the English countryside. I want twinkly lights everywhere, candles, good food, and dancing until our feet hurt.”

Harry had hummed, running a hand through her hair. “Sounds perfect.”

She had smirked. “What about you? Or do you just plan on showing up in a suit and letting me do all the work?”

He chuckled, his dimples deepening as he turned onto his side, facing her. “I wanna write my vows the night before. Just me, a glass of whiskey, and all my thoughts about you spilling out onto paper.”

Y/N had rolled her eyes. “You’d procrastinate on our wedding vows?”

Harry grinned, brushing his lips over hers. “You’d love ‘em anyway.”

And he was right. She would have.

She would have loved anything, as long as it was with him.

But now, standing in a dressing room, staring at herself in a dress that wasn’t even a wedding gown, it hit her. 

Still, every dress she tried on, she imagined what it would look like if Harry was standing beside her. If she was choosing a dress for him, for them.

And God, she hated that even after all these years, part of her still wanted that life with him.

The airport was bustling with the usual chaos—rolling suitcases, hurried announcements over the intercom, the hum of travelers moving toward their destinations. Y/N clutched her boarding pass, shifting her carry-on higher on her shoulder as she navigated through the crowd.

She had traveled alone before, but this time felt different. There was an unshakable feeling in her chest, something stirring beneath the surface. Maybe it was just wedding nerves, maybe it was seeing Mal walk down the aisle, maybe it was the inevitable string of questions about when she would settle down.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

The flight was smooth, and she spent most of it staring out the window, watching the clouds shift below her. Her mind wandered, drifting through old memories, old conversations, old pieces of herself that she thought she had let go of. But that was the thing about love—about Harry. It never really left.

After landing, she gathered her luggage and stepped out into the crisp air. The venue for Mal’s wedding was a dreamy countryside estate, nestled just far enough away from the city to feel like a secluded fairytale.

The car ride from the airport was quiet, scenic views rolling past the window as she watched the world blur by. When the car finally pulled up to the venue, her breath caught.

The estate was stunning—classic architecture with ivy climbing up the stone, fairy lights already twinkling along the pathways. It was exactly the kind of place she and Harry used to talk about for their own wedding.

She sighed, pushing the thought away as she stepped out of the car.

Before she could grab her bags, an excited squeal filled the air.

“You’re here!”

Y/N turned just in time to see Mal rushing toward her in a sundress and bare feet, arms outstretched.

She barely had time to drop her bag before Mal threw herself into her arms, squeezing her tight. Y/N laughed, hugging her back. “I told you I was coming.”

“I know, but now you’re actually here!” Mal pulled back, her eyes sparkling. “Come on, I need to show you everything! The venue, the flowers, my dress—I have so much to tell you.”

Y/N grinned, letting Mal drag her toward the estate, momentarily allowing herself to get lost in the excitement.

For now, she focused on the wedding, on Mal’s happiness.

What she didn’t know was that somewhere inside this very venue, Harry Styles had also just arrived.

Y/N followed Mal through the estate, taking in the stunning surroundings—the sprawling gardens, the delicate string lights woven through the trees, the elegant reception area where tables were already being set up with crisp linens and gold accents. It was breathtaking, the kind of wedding Mal had always dreamed of.

“I know it’s a little over the top,” Mal said, grinning as she led Y/N toward the main hall. “But Ethan wanted something classic and romantic, and honestly, who was I to argue? I’m marrying the love of my life—I’d say I’m winning here.”

Y/N laughed. “It’s perfect, Mal. Seriously. It’s like something out of a movie.”

Mal gave her an approving nod before looping her arm through Y/N’s. “Speaking of perfect—are you sure you don’t want me to set you up with someone at the wedding? Ethan has some very attractive friends.”

Y/N groaned. “Mal—”

“Okay, okay! Just saying. No pressure.” Mal smirked. “But I do expect you to have at least one fun, flirty dance with someone. It’s a wedding, Y/N. You deserve a little romance.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll think about it.”

They stepped inside the main hall, where final touches were still being put together—florists arranging centerpieces, staff preparing tables. It was a flurry of beautiful chaos.

And then, just as Y/N turned to say something to Mal, she heard his voice.

“Mal?”

The world around her froze.

That voice. That voice.

Slowly, she turned her head, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes landed on him.

Harry.

He stood just a few feet away, looking exactly like she remembered and somehow entirely different all at once. His hair was shorter than it had been back then, but still slightly tousled, his sharp jawline even more defined. He was dressed casually in a white button-down, sleeves rolled up, tattoos peeking through. But it was his eyes—those familiar, heartbreakingly green eyes—that sent a shock through her system.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed.

Mal, oblivious to the sudden tension, grinned and rushed toward him. “There you are! I was wondering when you’d get here.”

Harry tore his gaze away from Y/N, hugging Mal briefly. “Yeah, just got in. Thought I’d check in before the rehearsal.”

Mal beamed, then gestured between them. “You remember Y/N, right?”

Harry’s gaze flickered back to her, something unreadable flashing across his face. His lips parted, and for the first time in five years, he spoke her name.

“Y/N.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t casual. It was heavy with everything unsaid.

Y/N forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat, to keep herself steady.

“Harry.”

The air between them was thick, the past pressing in on them like a ghost.

Mal, still completely unaware, clapped her hands together. “Oh, this is perfect! You two already know each other! Harry is one of Ethan’s best mates, and I was just about to tell Y/N she should have a dance with someone at the wedding.”

Y/N nearly choked.

Harry’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing there, but his eyes stayed locked on hers.

Mal grinned between them. “Okay, I have a million things to do, but you two should catch up! I’ll find you later, Y/N.”

Before Y/N could protest, Mal was gone, leaving her standing there with him.

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Y/N let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah. Same.”

And just like that, the past wasn’t so far away anymore.

The silence between them stretched for a moment, thick with years of unsaid words and lingering memories. Y/N could feel her pulse in her ears, her heart slamming against her ribcage as she tried to figure out what the hell she was supposed to say to the man who had once been her whole world.

Then, Harry’s lips parted, and his voice was softer than she expected. “You look beautiful.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t just polite small talk, it was genuine. His gaze lingered on her like he was memorizing every detail, like he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

Y/N swallowed, shifting her weight slightly. “Thanks,” she said, her voice coming out quieter than she intended. She forced herself to shake off the nerves, tilting her head as she took him in. “You cut your hair.”

Harry let out a small chuckle, running a hand through the shorter strands. “Yeah. Needed a change, I guess.”

She nodded, her eyes flickering over him, the tattoos on his arms more defined, his shoulders broader, his presence somehow even more commanding than it had been back then. But beyond all that, there was something else—something settled in his expression, in the way he carried himself. He had changed.

“Looks good,” she admitted.

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah? Thought you liked it long.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, a familiar warmth creeping up her spine. “I did. But you pull this off, too.”

Harry laughed, a sound that sent a flicker of something dangerous through her chest. “High praise, then.”

She exhaled, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied him. “You’ve been busy,” she said, her voice even. “The albums, the movies… you’ve done everything you said you would.”

Harry’s expression softened, his hands still tucked into his pockets. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess I have.”

Y/N nodded, a small, bittersweet smile pulling at her lips. “I’m happy for you, Harry. Really.”

He held her gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Thanks, love.” The old term of endearment slipped out effortlessly, like it had never left his vocabulary, like five years hadn’t passed.

Y/N’s breath caught for just a second, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she offered a small smile and looked away, focusing on the wedding preparations happening around them.

“So,” Harry said after a moment, rocking back on his heels. “What about you?”

Y/N turned back to him, raising a brow. “What about me?”

His gaze was steady. “How’ve you been?”

There was something in the way he asked—something deeper, something careful.

She hesitated, then shrugged. “Good. Life’s been… steady. Work, friends, the usual.”

Harry’s lips pressed together like he wanted to ask more, but before he could, a voice called his name from across the room.

Ethan, the groom.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, giving a small nod in acknowledgment before turning back to her. “I should probably—”

Y/N nodded quickly, stepping back. “Yeah, of course.”

He hesitated, then gave her a small, lingering smile. “It’s really good to see you, Y/N.”

She swallowed, her heart doing something stupid in her chest. “You too, Harry.”

And just like that, he was gone, walking toward Ethan, blending into the crowd like he hadn’t just turned her world upside down all over again.

Y/N wanted to scream.

Scream in anger for the way he had just waltzed back into her life like five years hadn’t passed, like he hadn’t left her lying awake at night, wondering if she would ever stop missing him.

Scream in joy because��God help her—she had missed him. Seeing him again had ignited something in her chest. 

But instead, she took a shaky breath, pulled out her phone, and opened her messages.

Y/N: Naomi. Emergency.

A few seconds later, the typing bubbles appeared.

Naomi: Omg what happened?? Did someone spill wine on Mal’s dress? Did you trip in heels?

Y/N: Harry. Is. Here.

A long pause. Then:

Naomi: I’m sorry. WHAT.

Y/N: HE IS HERE. AS IN, PHYSICALLY PRESENT. IN THE SAME ROOM AS ME.

Naomi: WHAT THE HELL. HOW. WHY. ARE YOU BREATHING.

Y/N: BARELY.

She could practically hear Naomi screaming through the phone screen.

Naomi: Start from the beginning. How did it happen??

Y/N exhaled sharply, moving to a quieter corner of the venue as she leaned against a column, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Y/N: I was with Mal, she was showing me around, and then I heard his voice. I turned around and there he was. Just standing there like he wasn’t about to send me into cardiac arrest.

Naomi: Holy. Shit.

Y/N: He told me I looked beautiful.

Naomi: YOU’RE KIDDING ME.

Y/N: I WISH I WAS.

Naomi: What else did he say??

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip before typing:

Y/N: We talked a little. He asked about me. I told him I was happy for him. It was… weird. Like no time had passed, but also like a lifetime had.

Naomi: Oh my god. Are you okay? Like, genuinely?

Y/N let out a breath, staring at the screen for a long moment before responding.

Y/N: I don’t know.

Naomi didn’t respond right away, and for once, Y/N was grateful. Because she really didn’t know.

Naomi finally responded after a long pause.

Naomi: Do you need me to fly out there? Because I will.

Y/N smiled slightly, shaking her head even though Naomi couldn’t see her.

Y/N: No, you’re off the hook. I’ll survive.

Naomi: Will you?

That was the real question, wasn’t it? Would she survive this? Would she survive seeing Harry, being near him, pretending that it didn’t shake her to her core?

Before she could respond, Mal’s voice rang through the hall.

“There you are!” Mal rushed up to Y/N, her eyes bright. “I need you to come to the rehearsal dinner in like, twenty minutes. Bridesmaid duties. You’re sitting at the head table, by the way.”

Y/N blinked, still slightly disoriented from everything that had just happened. “Wait—what?”

Mal rolled her eyes. “You’re basically my sister, of course you’re sitting with me. Ethan’s groomsmen will be there too, obviously.” She paused, her expression turning smug. “Including Harry.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop. “Mal.”

Mal grinned innocently. “What? You two used to know each other. Might as well catch up.”

Y/N groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. She quickly looked at her phone. 

Naomi: Why do I feel like something is about to go down?

Y/N sighed, typing back.

Y/N: Because it probably is.

She locked her phone and exhaled deeply.her.

Y/N stopped in her tracks, gripping Mal’s arm before she could walk off. “Mal.”

Mal turned, eyebrows raised. “What?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart pounding. “Harry… he’s the ex.”

Mal blinked, not catching on immediately. “What do you mean ‘the ex’?”

Y/N stared at her, her throat tightening. “The ex, Mal. The one I never got over.”

Mal’s jaw dropped. “Wait. Wait. Harry is that Harry?”

Y/N just nodded, feeling her stomach twist.

Mal’s eyes widened in horror. “Y/N! Why didn’t you tell me?! I just—oh my God—I just forced you into sitting at a table with him! I basically told you to flirt with your ex-boyfriend!”

Y/N let out a weak laugh, rubbing her temples. “Yeah. You did.”

Mal looked genuinely panicked, placing her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “Okay, do you want me to change the seating? I can put you somewhere else. I can banish him to the other side of the room if you want.”

Y/N hesitated, her heart a mess of emotions. Every logical part of her was screaming yes, but deep down, there was something else. A tiny part of her—one she wanted to ignore—knew she wasn’t ready to run from this.

She swallowed hard. “No… don’t change anything.”

Mal searched her face. “Are you sure?”

Y/N exhaled slowly. “No. If I’ve spent the last five years surviving without him, I can survive one dinner.”

Mal groaned, shaking her head. “I cannot believe I was the one to unknowingly throw you into this situation.”

Y/N gave her a small smile. “It’s not your fault. I never really talk about him.”

Mal frowned. “That should’ve been my first clue.”

They stood there for a moment before Mal squeezed her hands. “Okay. If at any point you need an out, just say the word, and I’ll stage an emergency.”

Y/N smiled despite the nerves in her chest. “Thanks, Mal.”

Mal smirked. “And for what it’s worth… the way he looked at you earlier? Yeah. That man is not over you either.”

Y/N’s breath caught, but before she could respond, Mal looped her arm through hers and started leading her toward the dining hall.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Y/N walked into the rehearsal dinner with Mal, her stomach twisting into knots. The dining hall was breathtaking—soft candlelight flickered across the elegantly decorated tables, and laughter filled the room as guests mingled. It should have felt warm, exciting, celebratory. Instead, it felt like she was walking straight into the eye of a storm.

Her eyes scanned the head table, and sure enough, there he was.

Harry sat near Ethan, laughing at something one of the other groomsmen said. He looked relaxed, at ease, but the second his gaze flickered up and landed on her, something shifted. His smile faltered—just for a second—before he quickly masked it. But Y/N caught it.

And it made her chest tighten.

“Breathe,” Mal whispered in her ear.

Y/N inhaled deeply, forcing a polite smile as Mal pulled her toward her seat.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats!” Ethan’s voice rang out, and people began settling in.

Y/N’s heart pounded as she approached her spot at the table. As fate would have it, she was seated directly across from Harry.

Of course she was.

Mal slid into her chair beside her, oblivious to the internal battle raging inside Y/N’s head. Or maybe she wasn’t—because when Y/N hesitated for half a second too long, Mal gave her a subtle nudge.

Y/N had no choice but to sit.

As soon as she did, the table conversation picked up, and for a few moments, she thought maybe she could get through this dinner unscathed. But then—

“You look nice.”

The deep, familiar voice sent a shiver down her spine.

She looked up, and there he was. Harry. Looking right at her.

For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

She cleared her throat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You do too.”

He gave a small smile, but there was something behind his eyes—something hesitant, something unsure.

Ethan, oblivious to the tension, clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Mate, did you know Y/N used to date a musician?”

Y/N nearly choked on her drink.

Harry’s brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering across his face. “Oh?”

Ethan grinned. “Yeah! I don’t think she ever got over him, asshole broke up with her to go fuck around.”

Mal visibly cringed. “Ethan—”

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

Harry’s gaze was steady, his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smirk. He looked at her, his voice smooth as ever.

“Yeah?” he mused. “Wonder what happened to him.”

Y/N shot him a glare across the table, her face burning, while Mal reached for Ethan’s hand and squeezed it in warning.

Ethan frowned, confused for a second before realization dawned on his face. His eyes darted between Harry and Y/N, his mouth dropping open. “Wait—no way.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face. Mal let out a nervous laugh, while Harry just sat back, looking far too amused.

Ethan whistled low. “Wow. Okay. This just got interesting.”

Y/N peeked up at Harry, who was still watching her with that unreadable look in his eyes.

Ethan finally shut up after a pointed glare from Mal, and conversation around the table shifted away from Y/N’s romantic history—or rather, her history with Harry Styles. But the damage had already been done.

Y/N felt the weight of Harry’s gaze every so often, his eyes flickering toward her between conversations, his expression unreadable. She did everything in her power to ignore it, to focus on the food, on Mal’s wedding plans, on anything but the fact that Harry was sitting across from her, looking like a damn dream, completely unbothered by the chaos he had just walked into.

Eventually, the dinner plates were cleared, and drinks were passed around. Mal and Ethan stood to give a short thank-you speech, and while everyone was clapping and toasting, Y/N took the opportunity to slip outside for some air.

She stepped onto the balcony, the cool evening breeze brushing against her skin. She exhaled slowly, gripping the railing, trying to steady herself.

The air was crisp outside, a welcome contrast to the warmth and noise of the rehearsal dinner. Y/N gripped the railing, inhaling deeply, trying to calm the storm brewing in her chest.

She heard the door creak open behind her, followed by the familiar sound of footsteps.

“Running away already?”

She closed her eyes briefly before turning her head. Harry stood there, hands in his pockets, watching her with that same unreadable expression.

“Not running,” she murmured. “Just… breathing.”

He hummed in response, stepping closer until he was beside her, leaning against the railing. Their shoulders barely touched, but the proximity sent a ripple through her.

Silence settled between them, the weight of five years pressing down on both of them.

Harry exhaled, his fingers tapping lightly against the wood. “I tried.”

Y/N frowned slightly, turning to look at him. “Tried what?”

His jaw tightened for a brief moment before he met her gaze. His voice was steady, quiet. “To find something that felt like this.”

Her breath caught.

“Like us.”

The words settled between them, thick and heavy, cutting through the cool night air like a blade.

Y/N swallowed, her fingers tightening around the railing. She should say something—anything—but her mind was blank, her heart betraying her with how hard it was pounding in her chest.

Instead, she forced herself to look away, staring out at the dark horizon. “Did you?”

A beat of silence. Then, just as softly—

“No.”

The quiet stretched between them, filled with everything they weren’t saying.

Y/N closed her eyes briefly, exhaling through her nose. “Harry…”

He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I know.”

But he didn’t move.

And neither did she.

The weight of his words sat between them, thick and unmoving. Y/N stared out at the night sky, her grip on the railing tightening.

She had waited.

For months. For years.

She had waited for the moment when he would come back, when the universe would prove him right—that if they were meant to be, they’d find their way back to each other.

But he never came.

And so, she had forced herself to move on, to let go of the idea of him and the promises they had made.

Except now, here he was. Standing beside her, his presence as overwhelming as ever.

She turned to him then, her voice quieter, but firm. “You told me if we were meant to be, we’d find our way back.”

Harry inhaled sharply, his gaze locking onto hers. “I remember.”

Her throat tightened. “I waited, Harry.”

A shadow crossed his face, pain flickering in his eyes. “I know.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

She shook her head slightly. “I told myself I wouldn’t. That I couldn’t. But I did anyway.” She swallowed, the emotions she had buried for so long threatening to surface. “And the thing is… I didn’t have to let you fight for me.” She met his gaze, steady and unflinching. “Because you were always the one.”

Harry’s breath hitched, his hands curling into fists at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from reaching for her.

She didn’t look away.

“I was yours, Harry,” she whispered. “Always.”

Harry let out a sharp exhale, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He looked like he wanted to say something—needed to—but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he did what he had always done.

He looked at her like she was his entire world.

The space between them was thick with tension, a storm neither of them could outrun. Y/N’s heart pounded, her breath coming in uneven waves as she tried to steady herself.

Harry looked wrecked, his hands twitching at his sides like he was holding himself back, like the only thing keeping him from reaching for her was the fear that she’d pull away.

“I thought about coming back a million times,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But every time I convinced myself it was too late. That you’d moved on, that I’d lost my chance.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I waited for you, Harry.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “You said if we were meant to be, we’d find our way back. And I believed you.” She swallowed hard. 

His jaw tensed, pain flashing in his eyes. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“That you deserved better than someone who left you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, like he hated himself for even saying it. “Scared that if I came back, I’d ruin you all over again.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, her emotions bubbling too close to the surface. “And what about me?” she whispered. “Did you ever think about what it did to me when you didn’t come back?”

Harry flinched like she had physically struck him. He took a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair before looking at her again, his green eyes burning into hers. “I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N. Not for a single day.”

She sucked in a breath, her hands trembling at her sides. “Why now, Harry?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Because I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t stand in the same room as you and act like I don’t still love you.”

Y/N’s heart slammed against her ribs. “You—”

“I love you.” His voice was steady, sure. “I never stopped.”

A strangled breath escaped her lips. Every wall she had built over the years, every defense she had tried to put up—it all crumbled in an instant.

Because she loved him, too.

She always had.

And maybe she always would.

Before she could stop herself, before she could think about the consequences, she surged forward, her hands gripping his face as she crashed her lips against his.

Harry let out a soft, surprised sound before sinking into her, his hands flying to her waist, pulling her closer, like he had been starving for her.

The kiss was desperate, aching, filled with everything they had lost, everything they had missed, everything that still burned between them.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and shaken, Harry rested his forehead against hers, his hands still firm on her waist.

“Tell me it’s not too late,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together.

Y/N’s hands trembled as she cupped his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek.

“It was never too late,” she whispered back.

Harry let out a shaky breath, his forehead still resting against hers. His grip on her waist tightened, like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

Y/N felt the warmth of his skin, the way his chest rose and fell in sync with hers, and for the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her fingers still cradling his face. His green eyes were glassy, searching hers for something—reassurance, hope, maybe even forgiveness.

“I can’t do this again if you’re not sure, Harry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I barely survived losing you once.”

Harry shook his head instantly, his hands cupping the small of her back, holding her like he never wanted to let go. “I’m sure,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. “You say that now.”

“I say that because I know what it’s like without you.” He swallowed hard, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “I’ve spent five years trying to figure out who I am, trying to find something that felt even remotely close to what we had. And I couldn’t.”

Her breath hitched, and she let her hands drop from his face to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palms.

“So what now?” she murmured.

Harry gave her a small, almost nervous smile. “Now I prove to you that I mean it.”

Y/N felt something crack open inside her, something she had kept locked away since the day he left.

Before she could second-guess herself, before doubt could creep in, she nodded. “Okay.”

Harry’s face softened, and he let out a breath of relief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A slow, almost disbelieving grin spread across his face before he leaned in again, pressing the gentlest, most reverent kiss against her lips—like he was sealing a promise.

Y/N melted into him, her fingers curling into his shirt, anchoring herself to him, to this.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy.

But it was them.

[loumandforyou]

how I think want 70s-80s Devil's Minion is going to be (unpopular?). An essay, by me. (edit: apparently I do have to make it clear that these are all my own headcanons and I'm aware that they are not a healthy couple)

The "chase" lasts a couple of months instead of years

they start as the popular fucked up sex

Armand takes Daniel on a hunt, to show him how he plays with his food sometimes, how look I could be doing the same to you. But Daniel very loudly thinks fuck that's hot

but... they also start dating. once, for fun, they are curious. more dating. Dates are Armand using his mind gift so they have the restaurant by themselves. Taking Daniel to the top of a building so he can have the best view. Museums, galleries, movies...

And Armand brings him flowers, chocolates and poetry and Daniel playfully rolls his eyes and then giggles and kisses him and he even keeps the now dried flowers. Daniel returns the favour, and Armand looks at him as if he brought him the most exquisite and most expensive gift in the world.

Daniel makes Armand laugh for the first time (Armand smiles, smirks even grins, but he doesn't easily laugh) and Daniel realizes he is in love with him. He loves how Armand can be ruthless, cruel, cold with the humans he hunts before giving them an easeful death. He loves how excited with simple things like a phone, a microwave, a blender. How he lets his mask slip sometimes (more and more as time passes) and he sees the real him, the vulnerable side he rarely shows, the anger towards the world he thinks he doesn't deserve to feel.

Armand realises he is in love with Daniel earlier, in little moments, like how human Daniel is and how for the first time in centuries that is fascinating and not indifferent. And he loves Daniel because of how excited he is when he writes something or when he wants to read to Armand an interesting book/article/something he wrote, how clever he is, how he can be cold and compassionate at the same time...

And they talk about little and big things, from a good restaurant that Armand saw pass from generation to generation, to philosophy. And Armand reads Daniel's mind to see if his mind wanders and... Daniel is fully invested. Like I love getting to know you, how you think, what you think, who you are, tell me all about you. And Armand does. He tells Daniel the most.

they are in love and explore the world together and all its fascination and simplicity, and they are really happy.

but... Daniel doesn't want this to end, he wants to stay young forever, he wants to spend forever with Armand. How can't Armand see that this is not just because Daniel wants to be with him for eternity?

Armand sees how his own darkness but lure Daniel in... a bit too much. How he thinks that watching someone die and getting a life is the same thing, how he romanticises vampirism. How maybe he focuses on Armand a lot, and misses a deadline at work. A work that he loves. Maybe one day he catches a fleeting thought of Daniel wanting children someday. But he doesn't bring it up right away. He doesn't want to lose him. And he just can't understand how Daniel can love him unconditionally.

Then Daniel proposes to him in Paris. He has a ring and a romantic little speech to go along with it. But does it really mean he loves him? Or that he wants for Armand to make him a vampire? Isn't that what marriage is, after all, a promise of forever? How can Daniel just love him? So he says no.

Daniel is hurt, he is angry that Armand doesn't really trust his love and he tells him that yeah maybe he does want kids, a family, normality. And maybe a part of him does. They break up.

Daniel meets a girl, Alice. He doesn't fall in love, she doesn't really fall in love either, but they like each other. They get together. She gets pregnant.

Daniel needs Armand's blood (he needs Armand) but he can't have that, so he turns to his old comfort, drugs. It gets bad, he goes back to Armand, asking to get back together, asking for his blood, Armand says no and Daniel storms off to get his high somewhere else. He comes back a couple of days later, apologising and promising he won't ever do it again, he will really get clean this time. Again. And again. Until he comes very close to overdosing, and Armand takes care of him until he can actually go to a rehab facility, even though Daniel just begs him for his blood, to just turn him or let him die.

And this time, he knows what to do. Daniel can't have his normal life if Armand is still in his mind. So he just... erases it all. It's the only way. He couldn't see another way. And Daniel understands what Armand intends to do and he is crying, asking him not to do it, that he can get over this on his own, but Armand doesn't trust him, so he just tries to calm him down, telling him how great his life is going to be, with a brilliant career, a family... happiness. An easeful breakup.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[richarlotte]

What do you recommend seeking in hypergamous relationships?

For me at least, I focus less on material items and more on experiences. I want to be with a man who wants to show me the world and make it hard for other men to impress me. While I love gifts and think it can be great to be with someone who can provide material items, I’m more and more of the opinion that your youth should be spent traveling and experiencing the good parts of life and seeing the world in a luxurious light.

I love sporting events and culture, so part of what I was looking for in a partner was someone who could take me to events like Wimbledon, the French Open, the Masters, Cowes Week, the US Open (tennis and golf), the Madrid Open, PGA/LPGA events, the polo events at the clubs here in California, and Sweden for hockey (specifically the city where my team is now located).

If you’re into culture or fashion, I’d recommend seeking someone out who’s either willing to take you or send you away to Paris/Copenhagen/NY Fashion Week, make sure you get to go to plays and ballets in New York and London, take you to Michelin Star restaurants or spots with good reviews, and get you into events, museums, and cocktail hours. You have to find a man capable of giving you the lifestyle you’re interested in.

When I was with Leo, all he did was work his crazy work weeks. We’d see each other infrequently, but he sent me to Singapore, Korea, and HK; he’d make dinner plans that he’d pay for but not show up to; he got me tickets to so many shows; he’d send flowers and museum passes daily; and he put me through a lot, but he gave me a lot as well. Had he been less addicted to his job, it would’ve been great living life with him because of the lifestyle he provided and the way I felt about him, but alas, his job was his priority.

Lee and I met on Hinge, he had it all in his profile  (qualifications/trying too hard), he answered my favorite prompt, I responded, and I was quite forward with telling him what I wanted out of a relationship. I’m the sort of person who doesn’t feel the need to hide things when I want to seriously be with someone, and I also don’t like to waste my time. I don’t have too much time to waste on men, so I put myself out there. I learned that I had to be a bit abrupt once I pulled myself and my aesthetic together and felt comfortable enough to allow myself to actually begin dating people.

I find that it’s easy to find men who want to provide if you’re openminded, forward, and have a clear idea of what you’re looking for. I think it’s so important to experience the nice things in life while you’re young so that you can develop your taste and find what suits you. Historically, I’ve used Hinge to find boyfriends, and I’ve found them through activities I do, but honestly, if you’re short on free time but know what you’re looking for and you know how to construct a good profile/game an algorithm, Hinge has potential.

[csprint]

Hello dear!

Do you mind if i request got7 reaction during a trip/vacation? Like what would they like, going around the place/stay at the hotel, visit museum, or etc.

Thankies💚

Mark:

loves the city life so it’d be new york with him. going to times square. he’ll make you take pictures with nearly any mascots you pass in the streets. mornings in central park, fancy restaurants at night and takes you on cafe dates. must visit the empire state building before leaving.

Jay B:

roadtripping to his favorite camping spot. he’s so prepared, you’d think there was an apocalypse coming. he’s such an old man (literally his words). cooks kimchi jjigae for you, teaches you to fish, and lots of pda. especially inside of the tent after a long day of hiking.

Jackson:

y’all hit up paris for fashion week. buys you and himself matching all-black looks. you both enjoy the the fashion and the shows along with the parties, soirées, and private exhibitions. but between that, he’d make personal quality time with you. probably won’t be leaving your hotel suite, much.

Jinyoung:

gets an airbnb in japan. you’ll spend a lot of time outdoors and hiking until you’re complaining. but he’ll reward you for reaching the top of the mountain with kisses and feeding you the lunch he packed. he’ll take pictures of any and everything. especially of you when you’re pouting about being out too long. but he’ll make it up to you by taking you to visit a niche earring shop and a romantic rooftop restaurant.

Youngjae:

he planned your london trip in detail before suggesting going there. books a stay in at sloane. don’t really need to leave such a cozy and chic place but he’ll want to make sure you visit every single landmark, taking a walk in hyde park.

Bambam:

he loves experiencing local cultures and food while he’s traveling. he’d take you on a nice vacation to india and having vada pav would be at the very top of the to-do list. you’d probably be doing lots of eating, honestly. you’ll stay at the taj mahal palace. he’ll want to go to the amusement park during the day and then take you for a stroll at marine drive at night.

Yugyeom:

plans a trip to jeju but doesn’t plan on leaving the room at grand hyatt. just wants to stay in bed and cuddle you the entire time you’re both there. but if you do manage to drag him out, hope your knees are as stable as his. he’d probably want to visit the indoor theme park or the snoopy garden. do some retail therapy at k-fashion mall. you’ll take walks on the beach, bare feet running in the hot sand. and cocktail lounges at night. anything to drag out the day and burn you out so you’d make it up to him in bed where he wanted to stay in the first place. (sexual or not. up to you).

[kathlare]

i love you, i'm sorry

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Set against the enchanting backdrop of Paris during the holidays, Amelie embraces fleeting moments of joy with Rodrigo, her steady and kind companion.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: kinda mature content

full masterlist // request over here!

December 20th, 2022 - Paris, France

The Parisian streets glistened with the soft glow of fairy lights, the city dressed up in its winter best. Amelie wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck as she strolled hand-in-hand with Rodrigo along the Seine. The crisp December air was filled with the scent of roasted chestnuts and the distant hum of street performers. Paris, the city of love, had always been magical, but tonight, it felt even more so.

Rodrigo glanced at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. —Cold?— he asked, his voice low and warm.

Amelie shook her head, returning his smile. —Not when you’re holding my hand,— she teased, earning a laugh from him.

They had spent the past few days exploring the city—museums, quaint cafés, late-night walks by the Eiffel Tower. For the first time in a long while, Amelie felt like she was breathing again. She wasn’t consumed by the weight of the past or the questions that had lingered in the back of her mind. She was just... here. And it felt good.

As they turned a corner, the warm glow of a small bistro caught Amelie’s eye. They’d been wandering aimlessly, their plans intentionally loose to savor the spontaneity of it all.

—Hungry?— Rodrigo asked, following her gaze.

—Starving,— she replied with a grin.

The bistro was cozy, the kind of place that felt like a warm hug on a chilly night. They found a corner table by the window, the flicker of candlelight adding a soft glow to their faces. Rodrigo ordered a bottle of wine, and as the waiter poured their glasses, Amelie leaned back in her chair, letting the warmth of the moment settle over her.

Rodrigo watched her, his gaze unwavering. —You’re happy,— he said, almost like a statement rather than a question.

Amelie tilted her head, meeting his eyes. —I am,— she admitted, surprised by how easily the words came. —Paris has that effect, doesn’t it?—

He smiled, but there was something deeper in his expression, something that made her chest tighten. He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. —It’s not just Paris,— he said softly. —It’s you. Being with you makes me happy.—

Amelie felt her breath catch. She hadn’t expected this—not tonight, not so soon. Rodrigo’s eyes searched hers, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.

—I love you, Amelie.—

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and light all at once. Amelie blinked, her heart racing. She hadn’t been prepared for this, not yet. They hadn’t been together long—barely over a month—and while she cared for Rodrigo, love? That was a different kind of weight. A different kind of truth.

But the way he looked at her, so open and vulnerable, made her feel like she couldn’t let him down. He had been nothing but kind, patient, and understanding, and he deserved to hear those words back. Didn’t he?

She forced a smile, her voice soft as she whispered back, —I love you too.—

The words felt foreign in her mouth, like they didn’t quite belong there. But Rodrigo’s face lit up, and for a moment, she convinced herself it was enough. She could grow into those words. She could try.

After dinner, they returned to their hotel, the night quiet except for the occasional hum of a car passing by. Their suite overlooked the city, the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance. Amelie stood by the window, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out at the view.

Rodrigo came up behind her, his arms sliding around her waist as he pulled her back against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice a low murmur in her ear. —Beautiful, isn’t it?—

Amelie nodded, her gaze fixed on the glittering tower in the distance. —It really is.—

But her mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment at dinner over and over again. She tried to shake the unease creeping into her chest, convincing herself that this was what she wanted. Rodrigo was good for her—kind, steady, everything she hadn’t had in a long time.

He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, his lips warm against her skin. —You’re quiet,— he said softly. —What’s on your mind?—

She turned to face him, forcing a smile as she looked up into his eyes. —Just taking it all in,— she said.

Rodrigo studied her for a moment, his hands resting on her hips. —I still can’t believe I get to be here with you. With everything going on in our lives...— He trailed off, his gaze softening. —You make everything else fade away.—

Amelie reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek. —You have a way with words, you know that?—

He chuckled, his hands tightening their grip on her waist. —It’s just how I feel.—

Their lips met, and for a moment, Amelie let herself get lost in the kiss. Rodrigo’s touch was gentle yet insistent, his hands moving to cradle her face as he deepened the kiss. She responded automatically, her body moving closer to his as the world outside their suite disappeared.

When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her skin. —Stay here with me tonight,— he whispered.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she nodded before she could think too much about it. —Okay.—

Rodrigo took her hand, leading her toward the bed. The room was dimly lit, the golden light from the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. Amelie hesitated for a fraction of a second, the weight of the moment pressing against her chest. But then Rodrigo’s hands were on her again, his touch grounding her, and she let herself fall into the moment.

They moved together slowly, tentatively, as if they were learning each other for the first time. Rodrigo was gentle, his focus entirely on her, and Amelie tried to let herself sink into the moment, to push away the thoughts lingering in the back of her mind.

Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, Rodrigo’s arm draped over her waist as he pressed lazy kisses to her shoulder. Amelie stared at the ceiling, her body still, her mind racing. She wanted to feel happy, to feel the kind of love that Rodrigo clearly felt for her. But deep down, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was missing.

She turned her head to look at him, his face relaxed and content as he drifted toward sleep. He looked so peaceful, so certain of his feelings for her. And in that moment, Amelie made a silent promise to herself: she would try. She would try to move on, to leave the past where it belonged. Rodrigo deserved that, and maybe she did too.

But as she closed her eyes and tried to follow him into sleep, her mind betrayed her, conjuring an image of someone else—a pair of blue-green eyes and a crooked smile that had once been her whole world. She pushed the thought away, burying it deep as she pressed herself closer to Rodrigo.

It would get easier, she told herself. It had to.

-------------

liked by stelladayman, tchalamet, and others

ameliedayman: je pense que vous souffrez d'un manque de vitamine moi

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fanaticforyou23: Amelie in Paris with Rodrigo? Girl’s living a movie. 🎥✨ → ameliefanatic99: @fanaticforyou23 No fr, she’s the main character. Paris just hits different with her vibes. 💅

rodrigoriquelme: Cada día contigo es un sueño hecho realidad, mi amor. ❤️🌹 → ameliedayman: @rodrigoriquelme París contigo lo es todo, te amo. 🫶✨

hatersalert99: Another trip with Rodrigo? Can she chill for five minutes? 🙄

landoxfan88: Winter break in Paris? Lando must be shaking. 🤭 → ameliefan_queen77: @landoxfan88 Bro, Lando is in the past. Focus on the present. 😂

parisgirlboss21: She really said, "I’m gonna make Paris look better." The power. 😩🔥

rodrigolover24: Amelie doesn’t deserve Rodrigo. He’s too good for this "pop star" stuff. 🙄 → ameliequeen_77: @rodrigolover24 They’re literally thriving, stay bitter tho. 😂

victoriadayman: Mi niña, disfruten mucho su tiempo juntos. ❤️ ¡Cuídense del frío! → ameliedayman: @victoriadayman Gracias, mamá. Siempre te extraño. 🥰✨

wanderlustbaby29: STOP, her Paris fits are giving chic af. I’m crying. 😭🖤

haterenergy22: Another perfect trip. Do we ever see her actually work? 🥴 → amelie_stan69: @haterenergy22 Imagine hating from your couch while she’s thriving in Paris. Couldn’t be me. 💅

bestie_vibes99: The way she makes Paris look like a fairytale... I need her life for 5 minutes. 😩🌹

[cliozaur]

Astonishing Things. Victor Hugo's drawings at RA. Part 1

"Astonishing Things"—that’s how Van Gogh referred to Hugo’s drawings, first exhibited in Paris in the late 1880s. The London exhibition of the same name is amazing—an example of outstanding curatorial work. I’ve seen many of Hugo’s drawings in reproductions and in museums in Paris and Guernsey, but I still spent two hours at this exhibition and discovered many new and truly astonishing things. If you can, go and see it for yourself. For those who can’t, I’ll share a few highlights.

As with his writings, Hugo's drawings were never simple; he always combined various techniques and materials. For example, in this small visiting card, he used pen and brown wash, watercolour, gouache, charcoal, and a lace imprint.

Most of his drawings are sombre and macabre, especially those created after the death of Léopoldine. The Shade of the Manchineel Tree tells the story of a man who decides to rest in the shade of this tree—a plant so toxic that rain passing through its leaves can cause burns, and its fruit is poisonous.

The second drawing is a study from his travel book: a view of the city through a cobweb, though the city itself is almost indiscernible—ghostly.

What impressed me the most was Hugo’s visionary approach to artistic experimentation—far ahead of his time. You can see abstractionist and expressionist drawings created as early as the 1850s. Mushroom is outstanding; its unusually large format, with a huge poisonous mushroom and an apocalyptic landscape behind it, is reminiscent of an atomic explosion. And The Dead City looks as if it were created in the 1950s. He also experimented with ink blots.

I’ve reached the picture limit. Next time, I’ll write about Les Misérables motifs.

TBC

[cloakedsparrow]

A 'Jason & Tim Join the Bat Family Early' fic in which Jason and Tim meet six months to a year before Jason would have met Bruce in canon.

Jason spends a lot of time at the Gotham City Library for warmth/air conditioning/safety, education and entertainment. Tim spends a lot of time there too, doing homework and reading for fun/education since he prefers it to his usually empty house. They meet when Jason helps Tim reach a book that's too high for him and ends up commenting on it. They start by just reading in the same space and talking while Jason waits with Tim at the bus stop. Eventually, they start hanging out outside the library, first chatting on the steps and eventually getting pizza or burgers (Jason isn't too proud to accept food when Tim offers to pay) and moving to the nearest park where they can talk about what they're reading.

Tim realizes that Jason is homeless but at first doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to upset or offend his new friend. When Thanksgiving Break approaches, he broaches the subject to suggest Jason come stay with him during it, since his parents won't be home. Jason trusts Tim by then, and he really likes the idea of having unlimited access to a shower/bed/food/heating, so he accepts. They get along well enough, and the Drakes are gone often enough, that they decide to basically move Jason in. The maids only come a couple times a week, gardeners once a week, and the grocery delivery every other week, and none of them are allowed in Tim's room, so it's easy enough for Jason to either hide from them, be at the library when they come, or pass himself off as a friend visiting Tim.

This goes on for months before Tim decides that, as much as he loves Jason and loves having him there, the older boy deserves to have a real home with a real family. And he knows of the perfect family.

Tim may know a little more about Dick Grayson's schedule than is normal, but it works in his favor that he's able to make sure he and Jason happen to be at a museum exhibit Dick's also attending. They meet and it's nothing huge, but Tim notices the older teen glancing at him and Jason periodically. Later, the same thing happens at the aquarium. And then Little Paris. By then, Dick is basically ready to adopt Jason himself. Of course, Bruce does so instead once he tells him his plans.

(This has the added benefit of bridging the divide between Bruce and Dick at this time)

The Drakes' house is just on the other side of Bristol, which is easily the safest neighborhood in Gotham, so Tim can just ride his bike or skateboard over to hang out with Jason at Wayne Manor. Instead of the library or the Drakes' empty house, the boys start hanging out at Jason's new home.

Now, it's Jason's turn to get Tim (and his negligent parents) on his new family's radar so they'll adopt him, too.

After some training, Dick happily passes the Robin mantle to Jason, who happily shares it with Tim once the younger boy is old enough.

[Bonus: Dick checks around the Todd's old place to see if there's anything left of Jason's parents, since he knows he cherishes everything he has from his own. He gets the box of family records from their old neighbor and learns that Catherine wasn't Jason's biological mother. He and Bruce decide to quietly locate her and make sure she's safe for Jason to meet. They learn about Shelia's crimes, and arrange for her to be arrested, giving Jason the choice to visit her in prison or not. During their search, they learn about Lady Shiva having a kid and decide to look into that, which leads to them bringing Cassandra home a couple years early. Jason and Tim are delighted to have a big sister.]

[into-september]

Haven't watched the London special but have two observations on when we'll see Adrien learning the truth

DIEGETICALLY: The butterfly miraculous is still lost by the time Alix is in her twenties

ON THE META LEVEL: People talk a lot about Adrien being denied the truth about his dad but I haven't seen anyone bring up Cat Noir being denied the truth about Hawkmoth's demise.

Between "your dad was the supervillain who wanted to change history so your mum never died" and "your dad spent his last months in agony and died by literally rotting to pieces because of the magic that it was your job to use responsibly", we all know which is the worse news. The Movie showed us the first being overcome even after said dad had laid Paris in ruins; the NYC special showed us Adrien's collapse after less than half of that happened to a stranger and then was fixed.

From the way people are posting about the London special, I have the distinct impression that it was also not the part of the problem that the writers were interested in milking for angst. The real focus of this episode should've been Plagg, Alix and Tikki dealing with the aftermath of "Destruction", but instead the fandom is here discussing whether or not we should absolve Marinette for being used to strip the flooring after the writers painted themselves into a corner. The show asks us to pass our judgment on Marinette's choice, but claiming that this is Marinette's choice to make is a fallacy.

Let's be clear on this: "Destruction" exists because there had to be an in-story explanation for why the show won't deal with Adrien learning Hawkmoth's identity. There is a pretense of discussing the morality of Marinette's decision to heed Gabriel's wish above Adrien's autonomy, but per the genre and the tone and the focus and the target audience, there was no other option.

Because here is the truly wild part of this whole debacle: Marinette isn't even making an informed decision. She doesn't have an inkling of what Hawkmoth's identity would do to Adrien. Only when The Reveal happens will she know the gruesome extent of the tragedy that is Adrien Agreste and the true weight of the secret she opted to keep; if she hadn't decided to hide the truth on her own, Plagg/Tikki/Alix would be forced to interfere. Yes Marinette's actions are terrible horrible no good very bad, but if stopping Cat Noir from activating his cataclysm in the wax museum would inevitably lead to Gabriel reviving his angelic wife (which was somehow a worse ending than him reviving his supervillain secretary???), then the solution should be to go back to "Origins" and make sure Master Fu gave Plagg's miraculous to literally anyone else than his son. The real question left by the S5 finale isn't "should Marinette tell Adrien", it is why it was a cosmic necessity that Gabriel Agreste was killed by his own son when Ladybug's team has access to the miraculous who could prevent that tragedy.

There is no universe where the thematically coherent and narratively satisfying climax of the story about Cat Noir and Hawkmoth is "Adrien confronts his girlfriend about lying", and the bitter comfort is that it won't be. If the truth of Hawkmoth's identity ever were to reach Adrien, his girlfriend lying about it would be the least of his sorrows, because those sorrows would be so grotesque that there is no way the show will ever acknowledge them; closure to this storyline was made impossible the moment it was decided that Gabriel would take his death at Adrien's literal hands. When "parents go to jail" was too dark for the networks, I somehow don't think they'll be interested in doing the first ever production of Oedipus Rex for the 4-10 audience.

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

Before Sunrise: Film Locations

"If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt.”

In celebration of Before Sunrise's 30th anniversary, I revisited my film location pilgrimage around Vienna in the summer of 2016. It's one of my favorite movies, I have loved it since the first time I saw it 24 years ago, so following Jesse and Céline's footsteps was almost like walking on sacred ground.

(Photos were taken with a Fujifilm X100s and colorgraded in Adobe Lightroom.)

Zollamtssteg Bridge - this is the footbridge where the pair get invited to watch a play about a cow who thinks it's a dog. "I am the cow," one of actors says proudly.

Albertina Museum - on those steps is where Jesse recites WH Auden to Céline. "The years shall run like rabbits," he starts off.

And just on a nearby balcony is where they talk the night prior.

Club Roxy - this is the club where they grab wine and glasses.

Cafe Spérl - Jesse and Céline have their faux telephone conversation in the rightmost booth, in what has got to be one of the most romantic scenes in film history.

This café has been around since 1880 and is on the Austrian Register of Historic Places. It's still popular today, beloved for its traditional ambiance.

Teuchtler Schallplattenhandlung und Antiquarität - this is the record store where the pair listen to Kath Bloom's 'Come Here'. I lost track of time in Café Sperl so by the time I got here, it was unfortunately already closed.

Kleines Café - this is the café where Céline has her palm read.

Wiener Riesenrad - "Are you trying to say you want to kiss me?" Céline asks Jesse, helping the guy out. That's the giant ferris wheel they were on.

Wein Westbahnhof - behind this unique statement of support for the LGBT community is the train station where Jesse and Céline get off midway from Budapest to Paris. Unlike most of the locations used in the movie, it looks totally different now.

Friedhof Der Namenlosen - this is the Cemetery of the Nameless and although the film made it seem like they just passed by it, it's actually in the outskirts of the city.

The scene starts off here, with the pair entering from the left side of the chapel.

"I always liked the idea of all those unknown people lost in the world," says Céline in reflection, thinking of the people buried all around, identities and deaths a mystery.

[carrotsworld]

tarot: the lovers

pairings: tbz! idol! eric x reader

word count: 1.7k

meeting an idol wasn’t in your itinerary. but apparently, it was in your cards.

would you come over tonight?

@deoboyznet

part one. the hermit

you knew you shouldn’t walk around paris alone at night. sure, the city was boasting with lights, the eiffel tower at its finest at the centre of it all.

you had just dragged your drunk friends back from the bar, yet, it was only 10p.m. you decided that the night was still young, and you never had a chance to explore the romantic city at night.

it was simple. just to the louvre museum and back.

and now, you were now caught in an unfortunate circumstance, where a man cornered you, his breath reeked of alcohol.

you should’ve paid attention to your surroundings.

“bonsoir, mademoiselle.” he greeted, his smile not reaching his eyes, an underlying feeling that was screaming danger, beneath them. “where are you going at this hour?”

you frowned and quickened your pace, ignoring him. yet, he matched your pace effortlessly.

“a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be walking alone at this hour.” he continued, tilting his head.

your skin crawled, your brain thinking about all the different escape plans you could carry out to get yourself out of this situation.

the surroundings of the louvre was almost empty, and too dark, for you to catch anyone’s attention.

panic started to claw at your chest. you needed to get away.

“hey! leave her alone!”

your head snapped up to the sound of somebody’s voice, and you see a man around his late twenties, walking towards you with a purpose.

relief flooded you.

“it’s none of your concern.” your stalker slurred, scowling.

he turned towards you, asking softly. “is he bothering you?”

you nodded.

his expression hardened. “leave her alone before i call the police.”

the tension was thick, suffocating, and for a moment you thought that the stalker would retaliate, but he just staggered back, muttering a string of curses as he trudged away.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body still stiff with fear.

“are you okay?”

“yeah. thank you. i don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stepped up.”

“my pleasure. is there somewhere safe i can walk you to? just to make sure he doesn’t follow.”

under the dim streetlight, you could finally make out his sharp features. you did wonder why he looked so familiar.

and then it clicked.

“you’re eric sohn, aren’t you?”

he nodded, surprised. “you know me?”

“you’re from the boyz.”

he exhaled. “wow. never thought that i would stumble across someone who would know me here.”

“you’re underestimating yourself.”

he looked away.

"i shouldn’t be bothering you anymore. you’re probably had a long day. thank you for coming to the rescue.” you turned to leave.

“no! wait!”

you turned back to him, confused.

“at least let me walk you back. just to make sure you get back safe.”

you paused.

“okay.”

part two. the fool.

what was supposed to be a walk back to your hotel turned into a tour around the city. you both stopped by a café, getting yourself a hot chocolate and him a pumpkin spice latte. (him saying it was a limited edition so he had to get it)

your treat of course, though you had to fight him for the bill. (luckily you could speak minimum french to convince the waiter to give it to you)

it was quiet between you both sometimes, but it was comfortable, easy. and he would just break the silence with some stupid joke, or you would point out some random things, stopping by some street busking just to enjoy the music.

at one point, you both passed a bakery, and the scent of pastries filled the air.

“do you want to get some croissants? my treat.”

“eric. it’s almost 11p.m.”

he shrugged. “i’m craving some. it smells really good.”

“we just had drinks.”

“we’re in paris! croissants are a must.”

“but—“

“no buts.” he lightly grabbed your wrist, dragging you into the small bakery with him.

“bonsoir, madame. we would like to get two butter croissants. to-go, sil vous plait.”

that’s how you both ended up walking back to your hotel, with croissants in hand, as he happily munched on his croissant, handing you one also.

your eyes lighted up when you took the first bite. the buttery goodness melted in your mouth, the crisp layers flaking against your lips.

“see? it’s good right?”

you nodded. “i won’t doubt you the next time you decide to buy food.”

he grinned. “i should bring some back for my hyungs for breakfast tomorrow.”

“it sounds tempting for breakfast… but it won’t be fresh by then.”

“looks like we’ll have to just come back.” he turned towards you. “when are you leaving?”

“in three days.”

he reached into his pocket, handing you a ticket. “our concert is tomorrow. wanna come? you don’t have to if you have other things planned or—”

“i’ll be there.” you interrupted, finding his rambling cute.

he paused, as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “oh. okay. good. that’s great, actually. i’ll see you there.”

you smiled. “thanks for walking me back. goodnight, eric.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

part three. queen of wands.

8p.m. you made your way inside the concert hall, the buzz of excited chatter filling the air. you felt underdressed. and underprepared. most of the people around you came with friends, and they had some sort of light stick or banner with them.

honestly? the fans were all so pretty they could very well be idols themselves.

as soon as the concert hall filled up, the lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted into excited screams.

“i’m the stealer.”

sure, you’ve been to a kpop concert before. but this? this felt different. the energy was amazing, and even though you only knew around five of their songs, you enjoyed every second of it.

seeing eric on stage was so different than the eric you met yesterday.

it was so obvious that this was his passion. performing for the fans, singing, dancing. you could see he loved it all.

during one of the slower songs, they walked out to the extended stage, and you locked eyes with him. his eyes subtly widened, (as if he couldn't believe you actually came), before he smiled and waved at you.

your breath hitched.

it was brief— just a moment— the way his smile softened, the way the wave felt a little more personal. it sent a strange warmth through you. the fans around you squealed, waving their light sticks back at him.

you hesitated, before you lifted your hand and waved back. he grinned, turning away and continued singing as if nothing had happened.

the rest of the concert passed by in a blur, and the fans were chanting for an encore (which they did) before they did their final bow.

you took your time exiting the concert hall, the memories of the night still lingered in your mind. you almost made it out of the front door before someone in a cap and hoodie grabbed your arm, and before you could scream, he covered your mouth, a finger to his lips as he lifted his head slightly.

eric.

“you scared me to death.” you commented as he lead you somewhere more private inside the venue.

“i almost thought you already left when i couldn’t find you. decided to try my luck a little longer.” he shrugged. “did you enjoy it?”

you nodded. “i enjoyed it a lot.”

he grinned. “glad to hear that. did we successfully make you into a deobi?”

“maybe.”

“looks like you just have to attend more of our concerts.”

“and if i do, will you find me in every crowd?”

“i will. my spotting skills are just good like that.” he paused. “i did find you in the crowd twice, right?”

“true.”

his phone buzzed. “i gotta get back now before my hyungs cause a ruckus and scold me for disappearing so suddenly.”

you nodded.

“i forgot to get your number last night. do you mind?” he asked, handing you his phone.

you shook your head, quickly punching in your number into his keypad.

“thanks, y/n. get back safely.”

“you too.”

that night, when you were lying down on your hotel bed, your friends chatting about what they did for the night, your phone buzzed.

hi. this is eric :) hope you enjoyed tonight.

part four. the lovers.

you promised your friends to take them to that bakery shop you and eric found the night before last. as you stepped into the shop, the smell of fresh bread filled the air, bringing you back to when you first met him.

“the butter croissants are really good. i haven’t tried the others yet.” you told your friends as they were looking at the pastries that were displayed.

you told the cashier your orders, as your friends went to look for a seat in the small bakery.

“we meet again.”

your breath caught in your throat as you turned towards the sound of the voice, seeing eric standing there, as if it were routine.

“i guess fate really likes to bring us together, huh?”

“it does.” he smiled. “right. this is my hyung. younghoon.” he introduced the tall male next to him, who was looking curiously between the both of you.

“hello.” he smiled, bowing slightly.

“nice to meet you. i’m y/n.”

“you’re here alone?” eric asked, as his eyes scanned across the menu.

you shook your head. “my friends are over there. they went to look for a seat first.”

“order for y/n!”

“that’s my cue.”you thanked the cashier as you took your bag of pastries. “will you be in paris a few more days before your next stop?”

“no. we’re leaving tonight back to korea.”

“have a safe flight. it was nice meeting you both.” you reluctantly turned to leave.

“hey— uh— if you visit korea anytime soon, hit me up.”

“okay, i will.”

“don’t forget.”

“i won’t. you’ll have to take me around all the best spots.”

“gladly. i’ll see you around soon, y/n.” he grinned.

as you sat down with your friends with the pastries in hand, and they curiously asked about who he was, the smile you had still lingered on your lips.

maybe it was just a coincidence meeting him. thrice. or maybe, just maybe, fate really liked bringing you both together.

[copperbadge]

I went to the library this afternoon, intending to get a study room and do some work on the novel, but I got distracted and ended up spending the two hours working on a short story instead.

Georgie has said that Michaelis hired her after she rescued his friend's child from a kidnapping, and it was suggested to me recently that the friend could be Oliver McAllister, Michaelis's old school mate from Pirates of the Riviera. I was skeptical because the timing didn't quite work out, but I couldn't stop thinking about the idea, so I decided to try making it work.

And let me tell you, these messy bitches.

In 2015, Michaelis is deep in his Kingbot 3000 phase so he doesn't have to Have Feelings, and Gregory has coerced him into taking a vacation by threatening a coup. Meanwhile, Olly is fresh from his second divorce, from a woman who just tried to kidnap their child. Georgie is the most together person in the room and she's an unemployed twentysomething who just beat three men unconscious to prevent said kidnapping.

And the most amusing part to me is that because of how I set it up, Michaelis is just trying to be friendly but inadvertently keeps coming across like he's trying to seduce Georgie. Which also makes Georgie joking about trying to marry him for his money in Royals/Ramblers even funnier.

"Ma'am, the police would like to take a statement," Lael said to Georgie.

"I can have Lael find you a lawyer if you want," Michaelis added. She gave him a sardonic look. 

"All right, let's get it over with," she sighed. "There goes my visit to the Musee D'Orsay."

"We'll give you the room. Olly, why don't you go in with your boy, so the police can speak with you if needed. Lael and I will be at the cafe next door when you've finished."

Georgie nodded, but he stopped as he passed her and put a hand on her arm.

"Come see us when you're done," he said quietly, ducking his head so the police at the doorway couldn't see their faces. "And cancel your job interview in London."

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Stay in Paris. You can see the museum this weekend. The palace will cover your lodging and food."

"I...don't want to offend," she said slowly, "but I'm not -- " 

"I'm not flirting with you," he said, realizing belatedly how it might seem to her, and taking his hand from her arm. She looked faintly relieved. "I'm going to spend the time you're giving a statement assembling a job offer for you with my security office. Any young woman who can spot a kidnapping before it happens and soundly beat three grown men should not be leaving Askazer-Shivadlakia to do a job she hates in London. Now, regardless of that, and I say this as a concerned friend, not as king or employer: be honest and helpful with the police, but...economical."

"Just the facts?" she asked. 

"Exactly." He gave her an approving nod and followed Lael out. They were silent in the hallway and lobby, until they stepped out into the street and Lael exhaled.

"That was impressive," he said. "Young lady has a great right hook."

"She's certainly very alert," Michaelis agreed.

"It's been a long time since I've seen someone throw a punch like that."

"Say it and you're fired," Michaelis said good-naturedly. He'd known Lael since the head of security had been a young palace aide during Michaelis's first days as king -- if still years older than the king himself -- and he knew what was coming. 

"Not since our last trip to Galia," Lael said, voice full of relish. "That time a young hothead punched Duke Tomas in the face."

"Utterly fired. I've found your replacement. I'm putting you out to pasture with no pension." 

"You think she'd make a good successor to me?" Lael asked. He was joking but, simultaneously, he was not -- they were both getting older, and Lael was as aware as Michaelis that when a new king was elected in a few years, whoever it was, they would need someone younger, someone who could more easily keep up with them. 

"You tell me," Michaelis said. "You're the expert." 

"Oh, I've been fired, clearly my opinion isn't wanted," Lael said, as they settled into a table at the cafe, Lael with his back to the wall, eyes always scanning behind Michaelis. There had never, at least as far as Michaelis knew, been an attempt on his life, but he'd become used to never getting direct eye contact in public from the man whose job it was, after all, to watch his back. 

"Fine, I withdraw your firing. I suspect purely on her ability to sass me, she is your equal if not your better," he added, as the waitress approached. He ordered coffee and pastries briskly, then turned back to Lael. 

"Well, it's difficult to tell on two minutes' acquaintance," Lael replied, "but actions do speak louder than words." 

"Agreed. Perhaps a contingent offer? She has a law degree; she could likely earn more than we could offer her for a job like yours, but I think she's looking for the right job, not the right pay. Say three months of probation with guaranteed six months of pay to ensure she takes it, and a firm permanent offer at the end if you approve? Conditions non-negotiable but a bit of wiggle room in the salary, I think." 

Lael considered it, then nodded. "I suppose it's paranoia to imagine she might have arranged all this to get into the Palace employ."

"As what, a spy? I love a thriller novel, Lael, but they are fiction," Michaelis replied, amused.

[artandthebible]

David Crowned King by the Prophet Samuel

Artist: Claude Lorrain (French, 1600–1682)

Date: 1625-1650

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Louvre Museum, Paris, France

Samuel Anointed KIng by the Prophet Samuel

David is believed to have been twelve to sixteen years of age when he was anointed as the king of Israel. He was the youngest of Jesse’s sons and an unlikely choice for king, humanly speaking. Samuel thought Eliab, David’s oldest brother, was surely the anointed one. But God told Samuel, "Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart" (1 Samuel 16:7). Seven of Jesse’s sons passed before Samuel, but God had chosen none of them. Samuel asked if Jesse had any more sons. The youngest, David, was out tending sheep. So they called the boy in and Samuel anointed David with oil "and from that day on the Spirit of the Lord came powerfully upon David" (1 Samuel 16:13).

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 21

1885 – Duncan Grant (d.1978) was one of the major British artists of the twentieth century, as well as the sexual catalyst of that remarkable group of friends, the Bloomsbury Circle, which included, among others, writer Lytton Strachey and economist John Maynard Keynes, who were to be among Grant's lovers.

Born Duncan James Corrow Grant in Scotland into an artistically cultivated Scottish family prominent in governing the British empire, Grant as a child recognized his attraction to other boys and actively sought out sexual encounters with them.

Grant spent his childhood in India but returned to Britain in 1893. He travelled to Paris in 1906, where he studied with Jacques-Emile Blanche and became acquainted with Picasso and other influential artists of the time. In 1910, he returned to England to exhibit as a post-impressionist and then experimented with abstraction.

Famous for his use of color, he was called "the Matisse of Britain." His career flourished and his work was widely commissioned and collected by patrons, including Queen Elizabeth (the late Queen Mother), as well as by museums throughout the world.

Soon after World War II, the abstract school triumphed. Nevertheless, Grant had begun painting in a representational style, where his unabashed depictions of the male figure declared his sexual preference.

Bathers by the Pond

Throughout his life, Grant produced homoerotic sketches and paintings. When he was commissioned to decorate the Russell Chantry in Lincoln Cathedral in the late 1950s, he used his lover, the youthful, blond, physically beautiful Paul Roche, as the model for the face and body of Christ.

Despite the oppressiveness of British law and social attitudes condemning homosexuality, Grant lived openly as a gay man. "Never be ashamed," he liked to say. He remarked that his moral sensibility came from the Regency period, the pre-Victorian era noted for its relaxed sexual mores.

Although unabashedly homosexual in orientation, Grant was the object of desire of men and women alike. The painter Vanessa Bell, for example, with whom Grant and her husband art critic Clive Bell, shared a Sussex farmhouse for many years, fell in love with him.

Grant reluctantly yielded when she climbed into bed with him. She became pregnant and, in 1918, gave birth to a daughter she named Angelica. Grant neither acknowledged nor denied his paternity. However, when Angelica was a teenager, Vanessa told her that Grant was her father.

The young woman was traumatized with outrage and bitterness. After her mother's revelation, Angelica initiated an affair with and later married writer David Garnett, whom she knew to have been Grant's lover at the time of her conception.

Grant died peacefully on May 9, 1978, at the age of 92, in the arms of his companion, the poet Paul Roche. Grant's will divided his estate, including the copyrights to his work, between Roche and Angelica Garnett.

Unfortunately, Garnett has used this power to restrict and generally deny permission to reproduce Grant's work. As a result, the artist remains something of a ghostly figure, despite the resurgent interest in representational art and the perennial fascination with Bloomsbury.

*****

In 2020, an extraordinary stash of more than 400 erotic drawings by Duncan Grant that was long thought to have been destroyed came to light, secretly passed down over decades from friend to friend and lover to lover.

In the 1940s and 50s Grant made hundreds of drawings, many of them explicit and often influenced by Greco-Roman traditions as well as contemporary physique magazines.

One of the sketches

In May 1959, Grant gave his friend Edward le Bas a folder marked “these drawings are very private”. The mythology in Bloomsbury circles is that the drawings were later destroyed, probably by Le Bas’s sister. That was that, until Nathaniel Hepburn, the director of Charleston, the beautiful Sussex farmhouse Grant and Vanessa Bell called home, was contacted with an offer of the drawings.

The offer came from the retired theatre designer Norman Coates, who for years stored the drawings in plastic folders under his bed.

Coates said the drawings were “extraordinary, so in your face. You can’t avoid them. When I’ve occasionally brought them out to show selected friends after dinner, after the initial ‘My God’ exclamation at these very explicit drawings, they mellow … the sexual element really doesn’t dominate.

“It is the painting and the skill of his drawing and the aesthetic of it which negates the sexiness of them. It becomes irrelevant that the subject is what it is … it is a very odd feeling. It just becomes a beautiful collection of pictures.”

Coates was left the drawings by his partner, Mattei Radev, who died in 2009. Radev, a Bloomsbury mainstay who as a younger man had had a secret and tortured affair with E.M. Forster, was left them by Eardley Knollys, who died in 1991.

Knollys, who ran the influential Storran gallery in London and had an affair with Jean Cocteau, was given them by Le Bas, a painter. Le Bas was given them by Grant, a man who the economist John Maynard Keynes briefly thought might be the love of his life.

Hepburn said the drawings were often explicit fantasies but, as a whole, they were something more. “They are, I think, a body of work that talks of love. Of course at a time they were made, that is a love that was illegal,” he said. “He was never able to share the works. How we see them now will be very different.”

1895 – The best known Spanish fashion designer, Cristóbal Balenciaga was born (d.1972). Regarded as the master of fashion, his classic designs inspired the fashion industry throughout most of the twentieth century and continue to exert influence.

Born in Guetaria, near San Sebastian, Spain, Cristóbal Balenciaga Eisaguirre was the son of a fisherman. He studied needlework and dressmaking with his mother until 1910. In 1915, he established his own tailoring business under the sponsorship of Marquesa de Casa Torres. By the early 1930s he had established a reputation as Spain's leading couturier. Following the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, Balenciaga closed his three couture houses and left Spain. After a brief stay in London, Balenciaga settled in Paris and in 1937 opened The House of Balenciaga on Avenue George V.

Balenciaga never married. This fact, coupled with his career in fashion, has led to speculation and rumors about his sexuality. A deeply private man, he never discussed his personal life publicly. One particular incident reported by writer Jacqueline Demornex may, however, throw a little light on his sexuality. After an argument between the couturier Coco Chanel and Balenciaga, Chanel allegedly made the following observation to a mutual friend: "It is obvious that he dislikes them (women); look at the way he conceals blouses under suits, just to expose the wrinkles in their necks." Inasmuch as such charges are frequently made against gay male designers, Demornex ponders why Chanel attacked Balenciaga in such a way: was it his age, his way of dressing women, or his private life?

So flattering were Balenciaga's creations that women often ordered more than one of each design so that they could wear one while the other was being cleaned or so they could keep one at each of their houses. Remembered as a master of black, Balenciaga often favored a muted palette of colors, especially a combination of black and brown, inspired by the traditional dress of his native Spain. Spain was also the source and inspiration for his use of lace, his heavy embroidery with jet-encrusted trimmings, as well as the brilliant whites and the drama and dignity of stiff formal fabrics reminiscent of those painted by Goya and Velásquez.

In 1968 Balenciaga closed his business rather than see it compromised in a fashion era he did not respect. He retired to Spain and died in 1972.

1905 – Fashion designer and icon Christian Dior was born on this date (d.1957). He was born in Granville, Manche, Normandy, France, the younger son of Maurice Dior, a manufacturer of fertilizer and chemicals, and his wife, the former Madeleine Martin. Dior had an elder brother, Raymond, whose daughter was the Nazi sympathizer Françoise Dior. Acceding to his parents' wishes, Dior attended the Ecole des Sciences Politiques from 1920 to 1925. The family, whose fortune was derived from the manufacture of fertilizer, had hopes he would become a diplomat, but Dior only wished to be involved in the arts. After leaving school he received money from his father so that in 1928 he could open a small art gallery, where he sold art by the likes of Pablo Picasso and Max Jacob. After a family financial disaster that resulted in his father losing his business, Dior was forced to shut down the gallery.

In the 1930s Dior made a living by doing sketches for haute couture houses. In 1938 he worked with Robert Piguet and later joined the fashion house of Lucien Lelong, where he and Pierre Balmain were the primary designers. In 1945 he went into business for himself, backed by Marcel Boussac, the cotton-fabric magnate. Dior's fashion house opened in December 1946, and the following February, he presented his first collection, known as Corolle. It was more famously known as the New Look. The actual phrase the "New Look" was coined by Carmel Snow, the powerful editor-in-chief of Harper's Bazaar. Dior's designs were more voluptuous than the boxy, fabric-conserving shapes of the recent World War II styles, influenced by the rations on fabric. He was a master at creating shapes and silhouettes; Dior is quoted as saying "I have designed flower women." His look employed fabrics lined predominantly with percale, boned, bustier-style bodices, hip padding, wasp-waisted corsets and petticoats that made his dresses flare out from the waist, giving his models a very curvaceous form. The hem of the skirt was very flattering on the calves and ankles, creating a beautiful silhouette. Initially, women protested because his designs covered up their legs, which they had been unused to because of the previous limitations on fabric. There was also some backlash to Dior's designs form due to the amount of fabrics used in a single dress or suit--during one photo shoot in a Paris market, the models were attacked by female vendors over the profligacy of their dresses--but opposition ceased as the wartime shortages ended. The New Look revolutionized women's dress and reestablished Paris as the center of the fashion world after World War II.

Dior died at the health spa town Montecatini. Some reports say that he died of a heart attack after choking on a fish bone. Time magazine's obituary stated that he died of a heart attack after playing a game of cards. However, the Paris socialite and Dior acquaintance Alexis von Rosenberg, Baron de Rédé stated in his memoirs that contemporary rumor had it that the fashion designer succumbed to a heart attack after a strenuous sexual encounter with two young men. His companion, at the time of his death, was an Algerian-born singer, Jacques Benita.

1959 – Antonio D'Amico is an Italian model and fashion designer.

D'Amico was born in Mesagne, in the Italian province of Brindisi, and later lived in Milan. He was hired as a part-time office administrator for his first job. He met Gianni Versace in 1982, and the couple eventually embarked on a long-term relationship that lasted 15 years, until Versace's murder in 1997. During that time, he worked as designer for the Versace Sport line. D'Amico now runs his own fashion design company.Versace's will left D'Amico with a pension of 50 million lira a month for life, and the right to live in any of Versace's homes in Italy and the United States. However, since the properties that were left to D'Amico in Gianni's will actually belonged to the company, the homes belonged to Versace's sister Donatella, brother Santo, and his niece, Allegra after his death. After working out agreements with lawyers, D'Amico obtained a fraction of the pension and a restricted right to live in Gianni's properties. D'Amico's relations with the rest of the Versace family have not always been easy; Donatella said in March 1999,

"My relationship with Antonio is exactly as it was when Gianni was alive. I respected him as the boyfriend of my brother, but I never liked him as a person. So the relationship stayed the same."

1966 – Time Magazine publishes an unsigned two-page article, "The Homosexual in America." The article includes statements such as "[Homosexuality] is a pathetic little second-rate substitute for reality, a pitiable flight from life. . . . it deserves no encouragement . . . no pretense that it is anything but a pernicious sickness."

1988 – John Early is an American comedian and actor. He has appeared on 30 Rock as Jenna Maroney's son and in the independent film Fort Tilden. He stars in Search Party, which was written partly by Michael Showalter and also stars Alia Shawkat.

Early was featured on Lauren Lapkus' podcast (Episode #41, August 28, 2015), as well as Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp, which was released on Netflix in the summer of 2015. He tours around the country with his stand-up/variety show "Literally Me" and also hosts a monthly variety event (called Showgasm) at Ars Nova in New York City. He has made voice appearances on two episodes of Bob's Burgers as brunch blogger Dalton Crespin.

Early frequently collaborates with comedians such as Hamm Samwich and Kate Berlant in a variety of sketch and filmed presentations. In 2016, he wrote and starred in his own 30-minute episode of the sketch show Netflix Presents: The Characters. He also had a small role as Evan in the 2017 comedy Beatriz at Dinner, starring Salma Hayek and John Lithgow.

Early is from Nashville, Tennessee. His father was a Presbyterian minister; his mother, a minister of the Disciples of Christ. He attended the University School of Nashville. He graduated from New York University where he majored in Acting. He is gay.

Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi

1991 – Javier Calvo Guirao is a Spanish actor, stage director, and film director. He is the best known for his role of Fernando "Fer" Redondo in the Antena 3 series Física o Química and for creating and directing the musical La llamada together with Javier Ambrossi, as well as co-directing its film adaptation.

Calvo began acting in theatre at age 11, eventually appearing in 2007 in the film Doctor Infierno. Beginning in 2008, he starred in the Antena 3 television series Física o Química, portraying gay teenager Fernando "Fer" Redondo. Focusing on problems such as drugs, addictions, anorexia and sexual orientation, the series attracted much controversy. Calvo considers the themes of the series "problems that are also present in reality". He, however, received critical acclaim for portraying a gay male in his debut role.

Since 2010, Calvo has been in a relationship with actor and director Javier Ambrossi.

2009 – The Swedish parliament was presented with legislation that would allow Gay couples to marry in civil ceremonies or in the Lutheran Church, which until 2000 was the official church of Sweden. "The main proposal in the motion is that ... a person's gender will no longer have any bearing on whether they can marry. The marriage law and other laws concerning spouses will be rendered gender neutral according to the proposal," a statement from Prime Minister Fredrik Reinfeldt's conservative Moderates said.

The proposal had wide backing in parliament and is expected to be adopted, though a date has yet to be set for a vote. While heterosexuals in Sweden can choose to marry in either a civil ceremony or a church ceremony, homosexuals are currently only allowed to register their "partnerships" in a civil ceremony. Civil unions granting Gays and Lesbians the same legal status as married couples have been allowed in Sweden since 1995. If the new legislation is adopted, Sweden, already a pioneer in giving same-sex couples the right to adopt children, would become the first country in the world to allow Gays to marry within a major Church. Under the proposal, Lutheran pastors will be able to opt-out of performing Gay marriages if they have personal objections.

2009 – ABC television station in Los Angeles refused to air a Public Service Announcement about Gay Families claiming it was "too controversial" to run during inauguration coverage. KABC-TV in Los Angeles refused to run public service announcements from Get To Know Us First, a group that promotes acceptance of LGBT families.

2013 – President Obama made the first mention of gay rights in a U.S. inaugural address. The text of President Obama’s Inauguration speech reads: "It is now our generation’s task to carry on what those pioneers began. [. . .] Our journey is not complete until our gay brothers and sisters are treated like anyone else under the law — for if we are truly created equal, then surely the love we commit to one another must be equal as well."