#gidle x male reader

[mlm-writer]

Strangers (Yuqi x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Song Yuqi x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: General Audiences Words: 1108 POV: First Summary: You meet by chance and go on a date. Note: Saw this prompt and just had to do something with it. Tags: idol!Yuqi, meet cute, kissing, movie date, not proofread, fluff and angst

She smiled at me, like any stranger would. There was something odd about meeting someone famous in a place you never expected them to be. It is like your brain just refuses to believe that your idols also exist outside your screen, so I just smiled back at her, like I would do to any nice girl smiling at me. “Woah, your smile is so pretty,” she exclaimed. It only widened my smile and there was nothing I could do to stop myself from hiding my mouth behind my hand. I could feel the red gather in my cheeks. “No, no, don’t be shy, I’m sorry,” she laughed as she waved at my face, trying to get me to remove my hand without touching me. 

“What happened to hello? How are you? My name is…?” I joked, trying to cope with the situation of a gorgeous woman complimenting me so openly. She did not quite seem to get the meme. With those cute, wide eyes, she stared at me, that beautiful smile still plastered on her face. She seemed to think my words over and then offered me her hand. 

“Hello, how are you? My name is Yuqi.” I squinted my eyes at her. Then it all clicked. My anxiety rose high in my chest. I took her hand, shaking it rapidly as I gave her my own name. I couldn’t understand why she was talking to me out of all people. Was it my smile? Surely that wasn’t that special. “I’m off to see a movie on my own. Maybe you want to join me?” I just nodded dumbly, before she dragged me to the theatre I knew was only a street or two away. The short walk was like a brief interview where she asked for my age and where I was from. I did not need to ask any of those questions in return. I had a feeling she knew why. I asked how her week was instead. She complained of long hours and needing some distance from her co-workers sometimes. 

She paid for the tickets before I could offer to. I wanted to get us a big popcorn, but her diet wouldn’t allow it. It was the first time I went to the cinema without getting popcorn. In the dark of the theatre, I could not focus on the explosions on screen, not with Yuqi’s delicate hand resting on mine. I turned my hand so I could hold hers. Our fingers locked together. A little later she tugged me closer so she could place her head on my shoulder. 

When the inevitable moment came when the muscular main character got the girl, I turned my head to look at Yuqi, only to find out she was looking at me already. Her eyes flickered down to my lips and I understood immediately. We leaned in, lips meeting timidly. My internal organs made backflips as her grip on my hand tightened, as if she didn’t want me to ever leave her. I felt flushed and hot all over in spite of the theatre’s aircon being in a perfect working state. My free hand came around to hold the woman next to me by the shoulder. I squeezed the muscle, letting her know I did not want her to move away either. 

I didn’t know how long our lips were gliding against one another, but it was long enough for the next scene to play and we both jumped out of the kiss when another loud explosion echoed through the room. We stared at each other, wide eyes. Our gazes locked together for a few seconds, until we simultaneously started giggling. We tried to muffle the laughter that shook our bodies, but every time our eyes met, the giggles started all over again. The rest of the movie was filled with stolen kisses, whenever someone was caught staring. 

We exited the cinema hand-in-hand. The mall in which it was located was already abandoned. We took the long route through the marble-floored building, exchanging thoughts on the movie while swinging our locked hands back and forth. When we were finally at the ground floor, she pulled me aside between a pillar and a wall. “I like you a lot,” she whispered against my lips. I smiled against her lips and wrapped my arms around her. 

“I like you too, probably even more than you like me,”  I replied, before closing the distance between our lips. This kiss was different from all those we shared in the theatre. The butterflies still assaulted my stomach as she wrapped her arms around me and tenderly kissed me with a desperation hidden in every movement of her soft lips against mine. Dread pulled at my heartstrings as I started to feel like she was kissing me goodbye. I held her tighter, as if that would prevent her eventual departure, but when she started to push, I could not find it in me to force her to stay. 

Our bodies no longer touched as she stepped back. If that kiss was not telling enough, the look she now had in her eyes was. I already started wondering if I did something wrong. “Why?” I almost whispered, a crack in my voice betraying how close I was to crying. I just got her and there she stood, ready to leave. 

Yuqi forced a smile on her face. “You know what I do for work.” I nodded. “There is no place for…” She pointed between us, before putting her hands in her jacket. A deep breath and her fake smile almost seemed real. “Perhaps another life,” she mused. 

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Perhaps,” I repeated, trying to process this unbelievable heartbreak. This was all it took, huh? One compliment to make me follow like a puppy. One movie to make me wonder what those lips taste like. One kiss to make me fall in love. A dozen more to prepare my heart to be broken. “So you just wanted a one-date relationship?” 

She shrugged. “Is it so wrong to want the things you cannot have?” I shrugged too. I guess I understood where she was coming from. Just one date to make her feel like she lived a normal life. “I’ll leave first then.” I followed her two steps around the corner and watched her walk up to those big glass doors. She already had pushed one open when she paused and twisted her body to wave at me one last time. Just like she entered my life earlier today, she was leaving now. She smiled at me, like any stranger would. 

[prael]

A Bargain To Remember

Kinktember Day 13: Car sex

(G)I-DLE Miyeon x male reader smut

words: 4,950 Kinktember Masterlist

"Finally, a face to the name."

You know all about Miyeon, of course. She's the type of girl whose face is plastered on every screen and every street in every corner of the galaxy, a darling of the interplanetary conglomerates. From the spaceports to even the most downtrodden of back-alleys, you can probably find her face on some poster or flyer or some massive digital billboard high above you—those corporate powers that be sure want to squeeze as much out of her as possible.

The surprise is that she knows you.

Of course, it's on those screens, or the ones at home, or the ones in their pockets, that most people become acquainted with a girl like Miyeon. Those glossy eyes, her effervescent smile, her delicate but fierce features, of course, they leave an impression. They sell you dreams, products and promises. That's why you can find her all over the place—but the versions of her you can interact with— ones to purchase and enjoy—are another beast altogether.

"Can I help you, miss?" you feign ignorance of her identity as she takes the chair at the other end of your desk.

"I would like to make a purchase."

"A purchase? From me? What could I possibly offer to someone like you? I sell scrap electronics to junkies and fix the broken implants of low-life thugs. How could that possibly interest you?"

She crosses her legs, and says, "Don't play with me. I have seen your work, quite the artist you are, though I wouldn't say you exactly have my mannerisms down. The curve of my mouth, the cadence of my voice—not exactly up to par with the real deal. But as fakes go, you do well with what you have."

You scratch at the back of your head and then catch a bead of sweat forming at your temple, "Think you have the wrong guy, miss. You're talking AI and Virts here. Not my thing, definitely not my forte."

She's quiet as you look around at anything but her face. The grey concrete walls and steel beam of the roof are awfully fascinating suddenly, and then the holos playing on loop above the screens of your makeshift booth—really anything than to have to admit that your life's work consists of making and selling forgeries of people like her. She knows why she's here—the least you could do is be brave and admit to your craft.

"I tried your work myself. Quite the experience. Can't say I ever planned on fucking myself—but well, there's a first time for everything I guess."

There's enough power across your desk to not only shut you down and make it so the only tech you would ever touch again is a pair of electrified cuffs at best, and at worst she could have you put down and silently disposed.

Miyeon continues, "As I say, it wasn't entirely accurate, I'm not actually that loud or aggressive, for the record. But it was fun, so if you're thinking I'm about to expose you, not the case—I'm actually here to invest in your skill. Your art is fun, and I dare say your tastes in women, are spot on."

You let out a small nervous laugh and then say, "I don't usually take requests."

Her pink-painted lips, the gloss shimmering slightly from the bright fluorescent overhead light, form into a delicate, mischievous grin. "I'm willing to make you an offer, one you won't refuse. You get me what I want, and I'll license your work. Think about it. An official Miyeon VirtueX™, think of how lucrative an asset that could be. The whole galaxy's lining up to get a taste—and you would be the only real supply."

You lean forward in your chair to peer at her and ask, "Let's say I was who you think I am, what is it that you want from me?"

"What I want from you," she pauses and tilts her head, her eyes glance across your features briefly and her tongue traces the edges of her teeth. "Is to show me the past." She places a drive on the desk—old-tech, the kind that would never run on any kind of systems that are sold today. "You can get this working, right?"

"Is that a government stamp?" You point to the symbol on the drive. "I plug that in and I'll have execution squads here in under a minute."

"It's all above board. Officially disposed and untracked. I just need to live it, once." Her voice is quiet and pensive.

"Alright. Deal. But those two lumps of metal you call bodyguards have to stay out there, and you're coming through to my studio. If I'm gonna help, you have to play by my rules."

She flashes you a winning smile. You thought you had her pegged down but all this has proved you wrong—there was more to Miyeon than the flashy clothes and the blinding lights, a lot more. And your curiosity is getting the better of you now.

"You know, you're only the third person to ever step in here," you open up the secret passage into the back room, and gesture for Miyeon to step in.

You close the door behind you both and feel the heavy metal slide lock with a hiss.

"The first was me, naturally, and the second left it in a body bag a few years ago."

She doesn't flinch, just brushes past you and sits on the edge of your desk, running a finger along the steel as if surveying the conditions of your equipment. "Hard to imagine you make the stuff you do from a place like this," she says.

"The drive," you say as you hold out a hand.

She passes it over and you examine the shape and material. Most drives these days are designed to interface with neural implant ports or organic docks directly—this is true vintage work. It might have been what some would have called groundbreaking tech a hundred or so years ago. You hook the little device up to your primary work machine and start running tests.

She slides off the table, her hands resting on your shoulders. She bends down, her body pressed into yours as she murmurs near your ear. "How is it?"

"A mess. But a fixable mess. Should have something you can use soon enough."

Miyeon breathes gently in your ear before placing a hand on your arm, "Please, whatever you do, do not look at the contents. It's personal, just let me view it, and live it, one last time. Then you can lock it away again for all eternity and erase the copy from your server. And then you get exactly what you want from me."

You breathe in deeply, a mixture of her perfume and the thick oily scent of hot electronics flooding your brain. "Whatever, it's none of my business anyway. Now take a seat will you." You nod to the chair on the other side of the room.

The drive whirrs softly and a data scan runs to gather all the fragmented encryptions left behind on the device. Miyeon lies flat back on your chair and waits for you to connect her—she holds out her forearm expectantly.

"Come on then," she smiles sweetly and pulls a loose curl behind her ear.

You clamp your eyes tight and inhale. "Here goes nothing." You run the system at the push of a button and all the data you scraped compiles in a memory, one for Miyeon and Miyeon alone to relive. You walk over, drawing the connection from the chair and readying to insert it into her arm. "Connections like these, they can hurt, okay? Are you ready?"

"Do it." She's insistent.

A quick stab of your fingers later and the tiny prongs slide into the barely visible organic slot on her skin. Her head tosses violently and for the first time, there's fear on her face. But as soon as you have her connected, her eyelids begin to flutter. You sit a while, watching her as a million synapses all spark to life behind rolling eyes—whatever the moment is, she is in it. You leave her in peace and sit back at your workstation, waiting.

There's an artificial sensation of the atmosphere becoming slightly humid all around, the lights are a soft pastel blue, and the world is swathed in cotton wool. Silent. You find yourself completely frozen in time. It drags and yet somehow comes to a finish just as you're still adjusting to the quietude.

Miyeon's connection beeps and you turn around, removing the port from your system. She pulls the connection from her arm.

"So, tell me, was it worth the trip down memory lane? You get everything you wanted?" You unplug the old-school hardware and await the confirmation that all the corrupted data's safely expunged from your hard drives.

"Almost everything. But most things, in the end, never get a happy ending, do they?"

"Sounds heavy. The stuff that happened on there, pretty rough, huh."

Her pupils are dilated, the whites of her eyes flooded red. "Like you wouldn't believe." Miyeon climbs from the chair, finding her feet back in the real world after living in another for a precious few minutes. She blinks twice and there's a distinct film over her corneas.

"So that's it? My end of the bargain was fulfilled. And I get my licensed content?"

Miyeon turns and you wonder if that's a tear that's been cast down her cheek. "Sealed and guaranteed. Now let's give you some real data to work with. The right anatomical model, an authentic Miyeon behavioural pattern, every single unique vocal calibration, every erogenous spot, every subtle expression in real-time—have it all. One more condition. I have another memory, a real one in my head, if you make me relive that, you can record it and scrub every detail you need. Are we agreed?"

You nod. "Done. Sit there and we'll connect."

"You're going to manually record?"

"How do you think I get it all so accurate?" you tell her with a smug smile.

She sits and gives a nod. "If it's got to be done." You take a seat behind her, and you both reach over your shoulder to pull the neural connector into your napes and slot them in.

A brief flash of many realities as you slip into her consciousness and she welcomes you to her memory.

A calm setting, sitting in a car, you were driving and she's in the passenger seat. You're parked beside a winding hillside road and looking out over a city. A city you don't recognise. Miyeon's fingers dancing across your thigh with a suggestive gentleness, a sly smile.

"Where are we?" you ask.

"Seoul." Miyeon smiles.

"When are we?"

"2024."

"2024? That's over seventy years ago!"

She laughs. "Yeah? You wanted the real authentic Miyeon, didn't you?"

"Sure, but in 2024? That's just unbelievable. You look the same. How are you so—"

She leans close and traces a finger across the line of your jaw. She stares directly into your eyes and says, "We'll worry about the details later. Right now, you want what I've promised, and you've come this far, so you know what has to be done. We're already where we need to be."

Your senses are engulfed in an emotion and memories that are not your own. All a simulation and all a vivid and overwhelming experience. You're in love with her, that's the overriding feeling—the feeling of whoever she was really with at this time.

"This is the memory of the best sex of my life." She leans close to whisper to you. "So do try your best."

"This is just..." You don't get to finish, she's grabbed your shirt and pulled you close. She kisses you deeply. There is nothing of the daintiness or composure that you're used to, you've lost all your will and she is dragging you out of control. You find yourself consumed with an overwhelming and perplexing ecstasy and the idea of restraint or of reason seems unimportant now. You're driven purely by passion and by instinct—she has to have you and you have to have her, it's almost a compulsion. She's yanking off her seatbelt and reaching for your trousers, clawing at them desperately.

And just like that, you're scrambling at each other's clothes, almost frantic. You have the sensation of her breath across your face, the heat of her lips against your skin. Hands, everywhere. Exploring the curves of her body. A hungry desperation to peel back every layer of fabric to feel more, and more of her. She bites your bottom lip and looks at you with pleading eyes.

"I want you and I want you now." Her lips move like liquid lust and her hand like electricity, the energy tingles when she wraps her fingers around your cock and pulls it free from your pants.

She gasps and then giggles as if pleasantly surprised, a cute and kittenish squeal, she hums with her own approval of her actions.

"I'll be gentle," she whispers, her eyes shining with mischief. She rubs you from tip to base, taking the full length, slowly and teasingly over and again until the blood's pumping and you're at full salute. She's on her knees in the passenger seat and leaning over you. A smirk on her lips, she goes lower and lower still, her tongue warm and wet. Taking your crown into her mouth and enveloping you, her pace slow but sure.

Your hand in her hair, not to control or pressure, just to feel her in the moment. Encourage her, caress the back of her neck and appreciate every moment of pleasure. She takes you deep, deeper into her throat, the heat of her lungs, the power in her movements as she comes off and plunges again and again. It's effortless and instinct, and not for anything other than her own desire to please, and that itself is thrilling, you have to admit.

It's a strange new world for you to have sex without the enhancements of technology. It's so raw.

You sigh and whimper at every suckling pull, your nerve endings raw and singing. Her palms firmly pressing down onto the tops of your thighs, her movements grow slower, more sensual but she sucks harder, the vibrations from the moans of her enjoyment humming through the root of your shaft—fuck, it feels so fucking good, too good. She releases you with a slight gasp for air and a drooling line of spit.

She wipes her lips with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Outside, now." Miyeon doesn't hesitate. Her shirt pulled off and tossed into your face and she's leapt over to the rear passenger door, flinging it open wide, the warm night air rushes in to greet you, along with the sound of crickets. She slams the door shut and you open yours.

You climb out and head to meet her at the front of the car, she's already leaning against the metal hood. The car is one of those muscle cars from back at the time, a real classic ride that suits a woman like her. "Hey you," she rubs her hands against the metal as she leans forward and sprawls herself over it. "Get behind me already," her tongue dancing across her red-stained lips, her chest heaving in excitement, you're as hot and as hard as you'll ever be.

Miyeon tilts her head, watching you closely with half-opened eyes, her pretty pink tongue sticks out between her perfect teeth, and a teasing wink follows. She wiggles her hips, an inviting gesture, her skirt raised to reveal the gentle wobble of her cheeks—she doesn't have underwear, what a perfect minx she is—all bare for you.

She runs a hand down over the hem of her skirt and then raises it fully up over the top of her ass. As glorious as the very stars overhead. You have an overwhelming urge to run your hands across her bare flesh and as you take the first steps towards her, you find your arms reaching and touching and tracing every inch of skin that's exposed.

You run your hands over her cheeks, spreading them, kneading them, Miyeon's letting out soft little noises, encouraging you, inciting you—but fuck, this view... it's exquisite. It's so clear now, that all those fakes, the painstaking hours of recreation, simply did not live up to the real deal, and not just the view, everything is magnitudes superior.

You smooth your palm between her thighs and you part them, pulling her ass to the edge, sliding her legs open, watching as her wetness shines. "Just how badly do you want me?" you ask her.

"Look at me, how can you say something like that? Of course, I fucking want you. I hate having to wait. Come and fuck me."

You guide your cock to sit between her cheeks and rock into it gently, enjoying how those perky cheeks cradle your length and the way her whole body rocks with every movement. "Is it wrong that I love watching you squirm?" you ask, running the palm of your hand over the bare skin, digging your fingers in, grasping a handful and appreciating how it yields under your fingertips.

"Only wrong if I mind, and I don't," Miyeon groans, lifting her hips against you and smothering your dick in her deliciously juicy flesh. She is irresistible. "So what are you waiting for," her voice soft and suggestive. "Go on, you know you want to. You know how much I need it."

You grit your teeth and trace her lips with the tip of your cock, and it's like lightning flashing between you both. Fuck. Her lips are so wet and hot—they're so tantalisingly puffy. She wiggles and gyrates against you as you rest inside her opening. She groans and you're shuddering.

You slide the first few inches and gasp. You both moan softly together as you glide in, she's so much tighter than you had imagined she might feel—every inch that slides inside makes her clench you more.

"Yes," Miyeon is urgent and breathy, her muscles are contracting as though attempting to swallow your entire length. And she's hungry for it. "That's it baby, nice and deep," her words as electrifying as the sensation of her snug walls quivering as she clings on with greed.

"Like this?" you whisper in her ear as you lean over and pin her petite frame against the metal, letting her feel you, all of you. Every inch. And as she moans and shivers under the weight of your body. Your hands reach her shoulders and your fingertips find her neck, circling and caressing and massaging in all the right places—she turns her head as far round as she's able to gaze at you as she hums and gasps with each rolling movement of your hips.

Her teeth biting her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed pink, a complete dream in motion. Her body arches as she urges and wills herself back on you. You groan in return. Everything about her feels unreal in its perfection. She's squeezing against your cock, and her most hidden recesses begin to melt for you.

Miyeon cums like this, and it's without warning. She tenses, her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open—her silky tunnel clamps tight as a vice grip. And the way she gushes all over you, covering you, she can barely breathe, she can barely let out a cry or a single noise, only ragged breathing as you hold her firmly in place and fuck her through it.

You fuck her without shame or inhibition. She whimpers, a feeble cry, every thrust powerful and deliberate. Miyeon moans what feels like your name and you give another forceful snap of your hips, both hands firmly on her slim and shaking waist. There are no words that can possibly encapsulate her.

"That's it," her breath erratic and shaky. She grinds her ass into you with every forward push, working into a perfect rhythm and going balls-deep with each pump. "Hard." You slam against her ass, the clapping sound of skin against skin—it fills the warm and humid air.

Miyeon cums again. So fucking easy to make her cum. Her beautiful brown eyes are desperate with desire. She shakes, she is panting, "Just like that, keep doing exactly that and I'll lose my damn mind. God, you feel so fucking big."

She's limp now, just taking rough, powerful and blissful strokes—her cries a series of hoarse grunts and weak moans.

You grab her by the waist, hard, she lets out a yelp, and then you're manhandling her, throwing her delicate figure over onto her back. There they are, those perfect little tits, grown red being forced against the metal of the car. Her soppy mess drips out from her thoroughly fucked hole.

"This, is all you wanted right?" You gather her legs and thrust them roughly up and over your shoulders, sliding easily back inside. Her pussy gushing and absolutely soaking. "A good rough fucking. You just love to be used don't you, baby. This is the side of you I've been missing, seeing how you have always been so prim and proper in front of everyone."

"That was your problem, all those homemade VirtueXs made me all commanding when I really just love to be taken." Her breaths are ragged.

"Maybe that's just how I'll be selling you in future then," you say.

She gives a throaty chuckle. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but for now," Miyeon takes a tight hold of her knees, and draws them against her chest. "Make me cum again, please."

You have her absolutely filled with every inch of cock and stretched tight with every savage drive of your hips, again, and again, and again. Sweat forms a light film over every curve and groove of her form. She's gorgeous, she's taking it, and she's loving it. "Let me feel you cum," she breathes between pumps and thrusts, her fingers kneading the flesh of her thighs as she spreads herself as open as is physically possible.

A combination of pressure and adrenaline, you're hammering deep. Miyeon is groaning and pleading. A loud moan, a series of short sharp exhales and whimpers. Those narrow hips are trembling, her slim thighs shake, toes are curled. Her orgasm and invitation for you to join her come as a surge.

You explode. Locked, sheathed so deep and full, you fill her. "Cum so much..." Miyeon sighs in awe. Your climax is euphoria.

Both a sweating, quaking mass of interlocked limbs, you pull away and your drenched cock slips out. "How are you real," you exhale. "Never felt anything like you."

"I am one of a kind." Miyeon laughs gently to herself. "Now let's get back in there and you can fuck me some more."

You're in the backseat now, Miyeon's slender body climbing all over you. She leans in and takes your lips, her sticky lip gloss and the sweet taste of her mouth as she invades with her tongue and leads yours into a frenzy. Her fingertips drag down across your chest. She's positioning herself over your cock.

The beauty of simulation is there's no recovery, only the chasing of the next orgasm, and she's keen to provide the means. She takes you with her eyes closed, a small, grateful moan and she slides herself slowly up and down. Your head arches back with a cry as she holds onto your shoulders and glides her lips down over your shaft.

"Gonna ride you," she whispers as she rocks herself in time with the rise and fall of your breaths. "Ride you until you explode again." Your fingertips squeeze into the supple curves and muscles of her torso.

It is a euphoric ecstasy. Miyeon looks perfect riding a dick. She sinks down low, grinding back and forth. She moves like waves, her hair stuck against her cheek. You take hold and move the strands out of the way, before trailing down the bare skin of her neck and to her tits, groping them firmly.

"Been so long since I last got to do this. Missed how big you are." She grasps the headrest as the speed and intensity of her motions increase. "Yeah, that's it, baby."

Her eyes flutter and her head starts to fall further and further back. Erratic, out of control, wild—she starts slamming her ass down hard. Fucked-slack and oozing, her juices dripping down. She's growing quiet and you watch her expression transform, her eyes turn glassy. You watch her face strain in her pleasure, it's a wonderful sight—pure bliss. Then she erupts into moans as her body convulses and spasms, and all you can do is hold her steady, her hole throbbing tight around you. She gasps, desperate for oxygen, every fibre and nerve singing in harmony.

From one, right into chasing the next, Miyeon lifts herself, turns, presents her ass to you and sits back on your cock. You watch it slip up between her cheeks and disappear inside her cunt once more, she hums a content sigh and leans forward. Miyeon braces herself against the window of the car, looking over her shoulder as she moves.

Her groin rocks and grinds on your shaft in a rolling motion and it's heaven itself. That cute, perky ass smacks on your groin in a sensual motion. Her hand snakes between her legs. Her moans grow in strength and volume. Wet, slippery, soft, Miyeon's fucking you and riding herself to her own orgasm. She starts to tremble. You start to tremble. She's squirming wildly, desperate for her climax, that gorgeous cunt squeezing every inch and driving you crazy.

And you lose it. Another intense explosion that makes you clasp onto her ass and hold it steady. A groan rips through your entire body, and you empty everything you have. She cums the instant she feels the heat spread through her. A unified orgasm. Pure heavenly relief. The energy seems to drift into the air and the car rattles beneath you both. It is incredible. The euphoria is otherworldly.

"Tell me that was good," she asks softly.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Again. Again. Please, one more time?"

"It's your head, sweetie. Have at it."

"Hmm, I suppose it is. Then I want to sit on you, and I want it in my ass." Miyeon giggles and slips herself off you, a mixture of your cum and hers falling down her thighs.

"Whatever the fuck you want," you groan, delirious as Miyeon pulls you up to the seat and then takes her place on your lap, she spread her legs out over yours and you take her hips, guiding her ass onto your cum-soaked cock. Everything is a fucking blur but the sensations are turned up to eleven, and there is nothing else that is comparable.

You plant kisses on her hot, sweaty back as you slide her down onto your length. She's twitching, and squirming. You hear her let out a soft gasp of delight at the invasion. The tightness, the constricting squeeze is just...

"Oh yes..." Miyeon breathes softly. "Let me... let me do the work now, let me fuck this big hard dick with my tight ass." She circles her hips, drawing on your cock with a slow, tight, merciless motion. Your world starts spinning all over again. She's slick with sweat, her cheeks grinding on your thighs, the scent and the sex drives you fucking wild. "What a perfect dick. I could do this all day."

You lean your head forward, and sink your teeth into the muscle of her shoulder—a flurry of loud moans from Miyeon as she bounces on your shaft. The sloppy sounds, the music of her pleasures, the clapping slap, it's insane and exhilarating. You lick her sweat from her flesh, tasting her.

She's slick and stretched, clamping around your cock as her pace quickens and turns ragged and urgent. It's a whole other level, it's unparalleled and all-consuming. You're just about ready to blow inside her ass.

"Hold onto me," She pants, grasping your left wrist and bringing it over to her mouth, placing your fingertips upon her tongue and sucking. It is lewd and erotic and exciting and your insides begin to churn and ache.

There's no stopping you now, you erupt again, gripping her waist as your hips buck up on instinct, jamming yourself deep and blowing. Miyeon moans around your fingertips—taking your load while still rubbing her swollen little clit.

"Yes, I love it when I make you cum like that," she murmurs, sliding herself slowly off your half-mast cock and crawling off your lap. She throws herself down on the seat in a heap, peering down at the thick mess of cum dripping out of her freshly fucked orifices, a dazed smile, satiated.

You blink and try to get her into focus but it's to no use—she blurs and vanishes before your eyes. And soon, you're back. Your workshop, in your chair, and still hooked into Miyeon. Still sitting back-to-back, your foreheads damp, breathing hard and ragged. The lights flickering a bright electric blue.

"Incredible," you breathe.

Miyeon sighs. "Yeah..." She detaches the link from behind her ear. Miyeon climbs to her feet, shakily making her way around your workspace. "I'm such a mess," She says, touching under her dress.

"Fuck, yeah me too," you sit there trying to process what just happened.

"I want a copy. The whole thing." Miyeon places a card down on the desk.

"I'll get started."

[jupiterpilgrim]

The Elf Who Couldn't Help

Christmas Special 🎄

Miyeon x Male Reader

word count: 5K

You're wandering through the crowded mall, Christmas music blasting from every direction as you try to check off the last few items on your shopping list. The usual holiday chaos surrounds you - parents dragging screaming kids, teenagers hogging the benches, old people walking too damn slow. Just another December afternoon.

That's when you spot the Santa's workshop setup near the food court. There's a long-ass line of hyper children waiting to sit on Santa's lap, but what catches your eye is his helper elf. She's this tiny Asian girl in a green costume that looks about two sizes too big, desperately trying to wrangle the kids into some kind of order.

"Please stay in line! One at a time!" Her voice is high and stressed as a group of boys completely ignores her, ducking under the rope barriers.

You can't help but chuckle at how overwhelmed she looks. The elf costume is ridiculous - striped tights, pointy shoes with bells, and a hat that keeps sliding down over her eyes. But there's something endearing about how hard she's trying, even as chaos erupts around her.

And she's undeniably adorable too.

"Fucking hell," you mutter under your breath as another kid breaks free from the line, causing even more chaos. The girl's shoulders slump in defeat as she tries to restore order. This will definitely be a long day for the poor thing.

You continue with your shopping, but find yourself passing by the Santa setup a few more times. Each time, the poor elf looks more and more frazzled. Her dark hair is escaping from under the hat, her cheeks are flushed, and she's practically jogging to keep up with all the line-cutting kids.

"Please, one at a time!" the elf girl pleads, her voice cracking slightly. You notice dark circles under her eyes as you walk past.

After finishing up your shopping, you head to your car feeling accomplished. That's when your phone buzzes - a text from your mother saying your cousin - yes, that cousin - decided last-minute to join Christmas dinner.

Fuck.

Now you need another gift.

With a sigh, you trudge back into the mall. The Santa setup is gone now, packed away for the night. You quickly grab a generic gift card (he's not worth much effort anyway) and head back to the parking lot.

That's when you hear it - soft sniffling coming from between two cars. You pause, keys in hand. The sound continues, clearly someone crying. Following the noise, you find a small figure curled up against a tire, wearing that ridiculous elf costume.

"Hey... are you okay?" You ask gently.

She jerks up with a gasp, hastily wiping her eyes. It's the same elf from earlier, but her makeup is smeared and her eyes are red and puffy.

"I'm fine!" She squeaks, trying to force a smile. "Just... just taking a break!"

You raise an eyebrow. "In the parking lot? At night?"

She deflates slightly. "Okay, maybe not just taking a break..."

"I saw you earlier, helping Santa. Rough day with the kids?"

A bitter laugh escapes her. "That obvious, huh?" She sniffs and wipes her nose with her sleeve. "Everything went wrong. The kids were crazy, I couldn't control them, I dropped hot chocolate all over myself... and now they're firing me. Said I'm not 'elf material.'"

"That's harsh. Those kids were like wild animals though, not sure anyone could have controlled them."

She shrugs, looking down at her ridiculous pointed shoes. "I really needed this job though. Even just through Christmas..."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll find something else soon." You hesitate for a second, then you say your name.

"Miyeon," she replies softly.

"Nice to meet you, Miyeon. Look, this might sound weird but... would you want to grab something to eat? You look like you could use a friend right now."

Her eyes widen. "Oh! That's very kind but... I don't know you. And I probably look terrible..." She gestures at her tear-stained face.

You grin. "Come on, who doesn't want to have dinner with a Christmas elf? I promise I'm not a serial killer. We can go somewhere public with lots of witnesses."

That gets a small laugh out of her. "I really shouldn't..."

Right on cue, her stomach lets out a loud growl. Her face turns bright red.

"When's the last time you ate?" You ask.

"Um... breakfast? Maybe?" She admits sheepishly. "I was too nervous to eat lunch..."

"That settles it then. Come on, my treat. Consider it my good deed for the holiday season."

She bites her lip, clearly conflicted. "You really don't have to..."

"I want to. Plus, how often do I get to take an elf to dinner? It'll make a great story."

Finally, a real smile breaks through. "Okay... but only if you promise to drive me home after?"

"Scout's honor," you reply, helping her up.

—

You lead her to your car, noticing how small and vulnerable she looks in the ridiculous elf costume. During the short drive, you learn that Miyeon is a college student who needed extra money for textbooks next semester.

"The mall job seemed perfect," she explains. "Decent pay for just two weeks of work. But I guess I'm not cut out for dealing with kids."

"Those weren't kids, they were tiny terrorists," you reply, making her giggle.

At the diner, you slide into a booth and watch in amusement as Miyeon demolishes a huge plate of pancakes. She pauses between bites, suddenly self-conscious.

"Am I being rude? I must look like such a pig..."

"Not at all. Eat up - you've earned it after this sitty day."

Other diners keep glancing at your table, probably wondering why there's an elf having breakfast for dinner. Miyeon shrinks under their stares.

"Don't you need to return the costume?" you ask.

She shakes her head. "Had to buy it myself. Waste of money now..."

"Seriously? They made you pay for it? That's fucked up."

"Yeah... I spent most of my savings on it too." Her voice wavers slightly.

You study her as she eats - she really is cute, even in the silly costume. There's something genuine and sweet about her that draws you in.

"So what are you studying?" you ask.

"Art history. Everyone says it's useless but... I love it. There's something magical about understanding how art has shaped human culture throughout time."

Her eyes light up as she talks about her studies, hands gesturing animatedly. You find yourself smiling at her enthusiasm.

"That's actually really cool. Most people just chase whatever degree will make them the most money."

"That's what my parents wanted me to do," she sighs. "They think I'm wasting my time. The mall job was supposed to prove I could be responsible and support myself but..." she trails off, looking down at her empty plate.

"Hey, no matter what they think. Do what makes you happy."

She gives you a grateful smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

After dinner, you drive her home as promised. She lives in a small apartment complex near campus.

"Thank you so much for everything," Miyeon says sincerely. "I don't know how to repay you."

You pretend to think hard for a moment.

"Hmm, how about drinks tomorrow night?" you suggest. "No elf costume required."

Her eyes widen. "Are you... are you asking me out?"

"Unless that would be weird?"

"No! I mean... no, it wouldn't be weird. I'd like that." Her cheeks flush pink.

"Great. I'll text you?"

She nods, typing her number into your phone. As she gets out of the car, she turns back one more time.

"You know... maybe getting fired wasn't the worst thing after all."

—

The next evening, you meet Miyeon at a cozy bar downtown. She looks completely different out of the elf costume - wearing a simple sweater and jeans that highlight her petite but curvy figure. Her dark hair falls in soft waves around her face.

"Wow, you clean up nice," you tease. "Almost didn't recognize you without the pointy ears."

She rolls her eyes but smiles. "Never mention that costume again. I'm trying to repress those memories."

Over drinks, conversation flows easily. You learn that Miyeon moved here from Korea as a child, that she has a passion for Renaissance art, and that she secretly loves terrible reality TV shows. She's funny and smart, with a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard.

"So what do you do?" she asks, sipping her cocktail.

You tell her about your job, making her laugh with stories about your weird coworkers. As the night goes on, you find yourself moving closer together, knees touching under the table.

"Want to know a secret?" Miyeon says, slightly tipsy. "I actually hate Christmas music now. Hours of Jingle Bells on repeat will do that to you."

"I don't blame you. That shit's torture."

She giggles, leaning into you slightly. "You know what else? Some of those kids were evil. Like, actually evil. One bit me!"

"No fucking way!"

"Yes! Right here!" She rolls up her sleeve to show you a small bruise on her forearm. Without thinking, you gently run your fingers over the mark. Her skin is incredibly soft.

Miyeon shivers slightly at your touch, looking up at you with those big dark eyes. The air between you feels charged suddenly.

"Do you want to take a walk in the park?" you ask softly.

Shd nods, biting her lower lip.

—

The winter air nips at your faces as you and Miyeon stroll through the park. Christmas lights twinkle in the trees, creating a magical atmosphere despite the late hour. Snow crunches beneath your feet as you walk close together, shoulders brushing.

"Thanks for tonight," Miyeon says softly. "I really needed this after... you know." She gestures vaguely, probably referring to the elf fiasco.

"Hey, I should be thanking you. Not every day I get to rescue a damsel in distress from a parking lot," you tease.

She playfully shoves your shoulder. "I wasn't in distress! I was just... strategically regrouping."

"Is that what we're calling crying behind a car now?"

"Shut up," she laughs, but moves closer to you as a cold breeze whips past.

You find a bench overlooking a small pond, its surface reflecting the colorful lights. Sitting close together for warmth, you can smell her light floral perfume mixing with the crisp winter air.

"You know what's funny?" Miyeon says, watching her breath form little clouds. "If I hadn't been such a terrible elf, we never would have met."

"You weren't terrible. Those kids were demons."

"True. But still..." She turns to look at you, snowflakes catching in her dark hair. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and maybe the drinks. "I'm kind of glad it happened."

The moment feels perfect - the lights, the snow, her eyes shining as she looks up at you. You lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to.

Instead, she meets you halfway.

Her lips are soft and slightly cold from the winter air. The kiss is gentle, tentative at first, then deepening as she sighs against your mouth. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing away a snowflake.

When you finally part, Miyeon's eyes stay closed for a moment longer, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Wow," she breathes.

"Yeah," you agree eloquently, making her giggle.

—

The next few days pass in a pleasant blur. You text constantly, sharing memes and stories about your days. She sends you pictures of terrible Christmas sweaters at thrift stores, you counter with photos of your coworker's increasingly elaborate desk decorations.

You meet up again for coffee between her job hunting attempts. This time she's wearing an oversized sweater that makes her look even tinier, hands wrapped around a steaming peppermint latte.

"I had another interview today," she sighs. "At a bookstore this time."

"How'd it go?"

"Well, I didn't cry or spill anything, so better than the mall job already." She takes a sip of her drink, leaving a foam mustache that you resist the urge to kiss away. "But they said they're looking for someone with more retail experience."

"That's bullshit. How are you supposed to get experience if no one will hire you?"

"Exactly!" She throws up her hands in frustration. "It's like they expect me to emerge fully formed from the womb with five years of customer service experience."

You think for a moment. "You know... my friend works at that art supply store downtown. I could put in a word?"

Miyeon's eyes light up. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course. Plus, it's related to your major kind of. You'd be surrounded by art stuff all day."

She practically bounces in her seat. "That would be amazing! Thank you-thank you-thank you!"

Her enthusiasm is infectious. You can't help but lean across the table to kiss her, tasting peppermint on her lips.

The art store interview goes well - Your friend's recommendation carries weight, and Miyeon's genuine passion for art shines through. They hire her for a temporary position through the holiday season, with potential to stay on part-time after.

"I start Monday!" she tells you excitedly over the phone. "And the employee discount is amazing. I'm going to buy so many fancy pencils."

You celebrate with takeout at her tiny apartment near campus. It's cramped but cozy, walls covered in art prints and fairy lights. You sit on her futon eating Chinese food straight from the containers while she tells you about all her plans.

"The manager said they do workshops sometimes too. Like, teaching basic techniques and stuff. Maybe eventually I could lead one!" She's practically vibrating with excitement.

"Look at you, moving up in the world. From disgraced elf to art guru."

She throws a fortune cookie at your head. "Never mention the elf thing again! I'm trying to maintain some dignity here."

You catch the cookie and crack it open. "'A surprise encounter will lead to lasting happiness.’ Huh, guess these things are right sometimes."

Miyeon blushes, ducking her head. You set aside the takeout containers and pull her close, kissing her slowly. She melts against you, fingers curling into your shirt.

The makeout sessions are becoming a regular thing, but neither of you pushes for more. It's nice, this slow build of intimacy. Learning the little things about each other - how she scrunches her nose when she laughs, the way she absently hums while reading, her habit of stealing sips of your drinks and more.

—

You help her prepare for her first day, picking out an outfit that's professional but still her style.

She texts you updates throughout the day:

"OMG there are so many types of pencils. How are there this many pencils??"

"Just had to explain to someone why they can't return used paint. Why are people like this?"

"A kid just asked me what colors taste the best. I told him blue. Hope I don't get sued."

After her shift, you meet her for dinner. She's tired but happy, chattering about everything she learned.

"And did you know there are pencils that cost like $50 EACH? For one pencil! But they're so smooth, feel this!" She pulls a sample pencil from her bag, making you test it on a napkin.

"Very smooth," you agree, charmed by her enthusiasm. "Worth $50?"

"Maybe not $50, but with my discount..." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

The days leading up to Christmas pass quickly. You help Miyeon learn the store's inventory system, quizzing her on different types of paper and brush sizes. She introduces you to her favorite cheap noodle places near campus.

One evening, you're walking her home when it starts snowing heavily. She tilts her head back, sticking out her tongue to catch snowflakes.

"You know what?" she says thoughtfully. "I actually kind of miss the elf costume. Just a tiny bit."

You raise an eyebrow. "Stockholm syndrome kicking in?"

"No, it's just... if I hadn't taken that stupid job, if I hadn't been so bad at it... we wouldn't be here now." She stops walking, turning to face you. "Sometimes the worst things lead to the best things, you know?"

You brush snow from her hair. "Very philosophical. Must be all that art history education."

"Shut up," she laughs, standing on tiptoes to kiss you. Her lips are cold but her mouth is warm, tasting like the hot chocolate you shared earlier.

When she pulls back, her eyes are serious. "Thank you. For everything. The job, the support... just being there."

"Hey, I got something out of it too. How many people can say they're dating a former mall elf?"

She groans. "I take it back. You're the worst."

But she's smiling as she says it, snowflakes catching on her eyelashes, and you think maybe those fortune cookies know what they're talking about after all.

—

The art supply store keeps her busy through the holiday rush. You bring her coffee during her breaks, watching her explain different types of paints to customers with growing confidence. She's in her element here, surrounded by creative supplies and fellow art enthusiasts.

"A lady asked me to recommend brushes for oil painting today," she tells you proudly. "And I actually knew what to suggest! I'm becoming one of those knowledgeable retail people."

"Better than being one of those retail people who hides in the stockroom to cry," you point out.

"That was ONE TIME," she protests, but she's laughing.

—

Finally, about two days before Christmas, you invite her over to your place for dinner. You've cooked before, but tonight feels different. There's an electricity in the air, an unspoken anticipation.

Miyeon shows up wearing a simple red dress that hugs every curve. Her dark hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders, and you catch a hint of floral perfume when she hugs you hello.

"Something smells amazing," she says, following you to the kitchen.

"Don't sound so surprised," you tease. "I can cook sometimes."

"Sometimes being the key word." She peers into the pot on the stove. "Remember the Great Pasta Disaster of last week?"

"Hey, how was I supposed to know the sauce would explode like that?"

She laughs, stealing a piece of garlic bread. "My ceiling is still stained red. My landlord thinks I murdered someone up there."

Dinner is comfortable, filled with your usual banter. But there's an undercurrent of tension, a charge building between you. Every accidental brush of hands sends sparks down your spine. You catch her staring at your lips more than once.

After the dishes are done, you move to the couch with glasses of wine. Miyeon curls up against your side, fitting perfectly under your arm. You can feel her heart racing.

"This is nice," she murmurs, tracing patterns on your thigh.

"Yeah?" Your voice comes out rougher than intended. "Just nice?"

She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes dark and intense. "Maybe more than nice..."

You cup her face with one hand, thumb brushing her cheek. She leans into the touch, breath hitching slightly.

"Miyeon..."

"Yes?"

"Do you like me?"

Instead of answering, she surges up to press her lips against yours. It starts soft, tentative, but quickly deepens into something more urgent. Her tongue slides against yours as she shifts to straddle your lap, dress riding up her thighs.

You run your hands up her sides, feeling her shiver. She grinds down against you, drawing a groan from your throat. When you break for air, her pupils are blown wide with desire.

"Bedroom?" You manage to ask.

She nods frantically. "Please."

You stand, lifting her with you. Her legs wrap around your waist as you carry her down the hall, still kissing. You nearly trip twice, making her giggle against your mouth.

Finally reaching the bedroom, you put her back on the floor, your fingers gently touch her cheek, she looks up at you with such trust and want that it makes your chest ache.

"You're sure about this?" You have to ask.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she replies.

That’s all you needed to hear.

Your hands roam over Miyeon's body, mapping every delicious curve through her thin dress. She arches into your touch, soft moans escaping her perfect lips. When you kiss down her neck, she threads her fingers through your hair, pulling you closer.

"I've wanted this for so long," she whispers, her voice trembling with need. "Ever since we first met..."

You gently bite her neck, making her gasp. "Me too, princess. You drive me fucking crazy." Your hands slide down to squeeze her ass through the dress. She feels so perfect, so soft yet firm.

Miyeon grinds against you, her breath coming faster. "Please... touch me more..." She guides your hand to her breast, letting you feel her hardened nipple through the fabric.

You waste no time sliding the dress straps off her shoulders, revealing more of her flawless porcelain skin. Her medium breasts spill free, pink nipples begging for attention. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," you growl, taking one peak into your mouth.

"Ohh! Yes, suck them..." She holds your head to her chest as you lavish her breasts with your tongue, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucking. Her moans get louder when you graze your teeth over the sensitive buds.

Your hands push her dress down further until it pools at her feet. Miyeon stands before you in just her lacy panties, her face flushed with arousal and slight embarrassment. You drink in the sight of her nearly naked body.

"You're staring too much," she says shyly.

You gently grab her wrists. "It's because you're fucking perfect." You pull her close for a deep kiss, your tongue exploring her mouth as your hands roam her exposed skin.

She melts into the kiss, pressing her breasts against your chest. You can feel her nipples hard against you through your shirt. Her hands tug at the fabric. "Take this off... I want to feel your skin..."

You break the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head. When your bare chest meets hers, you both moan at the contact. Her skin is so incredibly soft against yours.

"Bed. Now." You guide her backwards until her knees hit the mattress. She lies back, dark hair fanning out on the pillow as she looks up at you with those innocent yet lustful eyes.

You crawl over her, leaving a trail of hot kisses from her tummy up to her neck. Her hands explore your back, nails lightly scratching. When you grind your clothed erection against her core, she gasps.

"Can you feel how hard you make me?" You thrust against her again, making her whimper.

"Y-yes... I want to see it..." Her hands move to your belt, fumbling with the buckle.

You help her undo your pants, kicking them off along with your boxers. Your cock springs free, already rock hard and leaking precum. Miyeon's eyes widen as she takes in your size.

"Like what you see, princess?" You smirk as her hand wraps around your shaft, stroking experimentally.

"It's so big..." she whispers, thumb brushing over your sensitive tip. "Will it... fit?"

"We'll go nice and slow, baby. But first..." You hook your fingers in her panties, sliding them down her legs. You spread her creamy thighs wide apart, admiring how her pink pussy glistens with arousal. Her outer lips are puffy and swollen, inner folds glistening with her juices. The musky scent of her cunt makes your mouth water as you lean in closer. “Fuck, you're already so wet for me.”

"Please..." she whimpers, squirming under your intense gaze. "Stop teasing and lick me already!"

You give her a wicked grin before diving in, dragging your hot tongue through her dripping slit from bottom to top. The taste of her pussy explodes across your tongue - tangy and sweet like ripe fruit. She cries out and bucks her hips up into your face.

"Fuck! Your tongue feels so good!" Her fingers tangle in your hair as you focus on her clit, circling the swollen nub with firm strokes. You can feel it getting harder and more pronounced under your tongue.

Holding her thighs open wider, you bury your face deeper between her legs, eating her pussy like it's your last meal. Your tongue alternates between fucking into her tight hole and flicking rapidly over her clit. Wet sucking sounds fill the room as you devour her cunt.

Her pussy is absolutely drenched now, cream coating your chin as you feast on her. You slide two fingers into her clutching channel while continuing to assault her clit with your tongue. The walls of her cunt squeeze your digits hungrily.

"Holy shit, don't stop! Right there!" She grinds her pussy against your face, chasing her pleasure. "I'm getting so close already..."

You curl your fingers to massage her g-spot while sucking her clit between your lips. The combination has her writhing and moaning uncontrollably. Her thighs start to tremble as her orgasm builds.

You increase the pressure and speed, determined to make her cum hard on your tongue. Your fingers pump in and out of her sopping pussy while you flick her clit mercilessly. She's so wet that obscene squelching noises accompany each thrust of your fingers.

"Fuck fuck fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Her back arches off the bed as her climax hits. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers as waves of pleasure course through her. You keep licking and sucking, drawing out her orgasm until she pushes your head away.

But you're not done with her yet. Not so soon. As she lies there panting, you reposition yourself between her legs. Her pussy is still twitching with aftershocks when you dive back in, this time focusing solely on her sensitive clit.

"Wait! I just came—ahhhh!" Her protest turns into a moan as you suck her swollen clit between your lips. You can feel her trying to close her legs but you hold them open, continuing your relentless assault on her pussy.

The oversensitivity quickly transforms back into pleasure as you work her towards another orgasm. Your tongue swirls around her clit in tight circles while three fingers pump into her dripping hole. Her cream coats your hand as you finger-fuck her roughly.

"Oh god, I can't... it's too much!" But her hips are rocking against your face again, chasing the building pleasure. You can feel her pussy getting even wetter, if that's possible.

You alternate between broad strokes with your flattened tongue and quick flicks directly on her clit. Meanwhile your fingers curl to hit her g-spot with each thrust. The combination of stimulation has her climbing rapidly towards another peak.

Her moans get higher and more desperate as you drive her wild with your mouth and fingers. You can tell she's fighting the pleasure, still sensitive from her first orgasm. But you're determined to make her cum again.

"Please... I can't take it... gonna cum again!" Her thighs start shaking as her second orgasm approaches. You double down, sucking her clit firmly while hammering your fingers against her g-spot.

She screams as she cums, her pussy clamping down so hard on your fingers that you can barely move them. You keep your lips locked around her clit, sucking gently to draw out the intense pleasure.

When her orgasm finally subsides, you slowly withdraw your fingers from her quivering pussy. They're absolutely coated in her cream. You make eye contact as you lick them clean, savoring her tangy flavor.

"Holy shit..." Miyeon pants, still trembling. "That was incredible. I've never cum that hard before."

You smirk and dive right back in, making her yelp in surprise. Her clit is swollen and ultra-sensitive now, perfect for what you have planned. You flatten your tongue and lap at her pussy with long, slow strokes.

"No more, baby, I can't..." But her protests are weak and her hips are already moving against your mouth again. You can feel her getting wetter as you continue eating her out.

This time you take it slow, building her up gradually. Your tongue explores every fold and crease of her pussy, occasionally dipping into her hole to taste her essence. When you finally return attention to her clit, she's practically begging for it.

"Please... need to cum again..." Miyeon rocks desperately against your face, seeking more pressure. But you keep your touches light and teasing, driving her crazy with want.

You trace letters on her clit with the tip of your tongue, spelling out filthy words as she writhes beneath you. When you finally slide your fingers back into her clutching pussy, she moans in relief.

"Yes! Fuck me with your fingers while you eat my pussy!" Her dirty talk spurs you on as you pump three fingers into her dripping hole. Your tongue works her clit with firm, steady pressure.

Her pussy is absolutely gushing now, cream running down your wrist as you finger-fuck her roughly. The wet sounds of your fingers plunging into her cunt fill the room along with her desperate moans.

You curl your fingers to massage her g-spot while sucking her clit between your lips. The dual stimulation has her climbing rapidly towards another orgasm. Her thighs start trembling as she gets close.

"Gonna cum again! Don't stop, please don't stop!" She grinds her pussy against your face, chasing her pleasure. You increase the pressure and speed, determined to give her the most intense orgasm yet.

Her back lifts clear off the bed, her body trembling violently as the orgasm tears through her. Miyeon's cries of your name echo in the room, her voice breaking into a series of desperate whimpers. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers, pulsating in rhythm with the waves of pleasure crashing through her. Her hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, as her thighs twitch uncontrollably. You don’t let up, your fingers continuing to work her through every shuddering moment of ecstasy, curling and teasing until she lets out a sharp gasp and pushes your head back, her hips jerking away.

"Stop, stop! Too much," she pants, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body glistening with sweat.

You lean back, watching her recover, her hair splayed out like a halo against the pillow. Her cheeks are flushed deep red, lips parted as she struggles to catch her breath. She drapes an arm over her face, giggling weakly. "Wow... that was—like—insane. I didn’t know you were this good with your hands."

“Take your time,” you say, your tone soft but teasing as your gaze roams her utterly wrecked form.

She peeks at you from beneath her arm, her eyes still hazy and unfocused. Her thighs quiver as she stretches her legs out, one hand brushing against her stomach as if grounding herself. “Okay, just give me a second,” she murmurs, her voice shaky, a tired smile playing at her lips.

While she lies there, basking in the aftershocks, you reach over to the nightstand. Your fingers brush against the foil packet, and you tear it open deliberately, watching her out of the corner of your eye. Her gaze snaps to you as you roll the condom onto your throbbing cock, her pupils dilating slightly.

"Already?" she whispers, a flicker of excitement chasing away the exhaustion in her expression. You smirk, positioning yourself above her, letting her feel the heat of your body pressing against hers.

"Yes. Ready for me, princess?" You position yourself at her entrance, rubbing your tip through her folds.

She nods, pulling you down for a passionate kiss. You can feel her trembling with anticipation.

"Tell me if it's too much," you murmur against her lips as you start pushing in. The head pops past her tight entrance, making you both moan.

"Oh fuck... you're so big..." She bites her lip, adjusting to the stretch as you slowly feed more of your length into her.

You go inch by inch, letting her pussy accommodate your size. Her walls grip you like a vice, so hot and tight it takes all your control not to just slam in.

"That's it, baby, taking my cock so well..." You bottom out, fully sheathed in her warmth.

You stay still for a moment, letting her adjust while peppering kisses across her face and neck. When her hips start moving against you, you take it as your cue to move.

You start with a few slow, shallow thrusts, just to get her warmed up. Miyeon's moans are soft at first, but they grow louder with each push, urging you on. You can feel her nails digging into your back, her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you deeper into her. The angle changes, and you hit something inside her that makes her cry out.

"Fuck, right there," she gasps. "Don't stop."

You don't plan to. You pick up the pace, your hips moving faster, your cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy. She's meeting your thrusts, her body arching up to take you deeper.

"Faster," she begs, her voice ragged. "Please fuck me faster."

You grip her hips, your fingers digging into her soft flesh. You start really giving it to her, your balls slapping against her ass with each stroke. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall as you pound her tight pussy.

"You like that, huh?" you growl in her ear. "Like getting fucked hard by my big cock?"

"Yes!" she screams. "Oh god, yes! Your cock feels so fucking good inside me."

Her words dissolve into incoherent moans, her body writhing beneath you. You can feel her getting wetter, her cream coating your shaft and dripping down her ass, making a fucking mess of the sheets. You can see it glistening on your cock every time you pull out, can feel it easing the way as you slam back in.

You lean down, your teeth finding her neck, biting down as you fuck her even harder. She cries out, her body convulsing around you. You can feel her pussy clenching, her walls squeezing your cock.

"Fuck, you're close," you groan. "I can feel it."

"Yes," she pants. "I'm gonna cum again. I'm gonna cum all over your cock."

You can feel your own orgasm building, your balls drawing up tight. But you hold back, determined to make her cum first. You want to feel her lose control, want to feel her pussy milking your cock.

You reach between them, your fingers finding her clit. You rub it in tight circles, your cock still pounding into her. She screams, her body bucking, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice.

"Cum for me, baby," you growl. "Let me feel you cum all over my cock."

And she does. She cums hard, her body convulsing, her pussy pulsing around you. You can feel her cream coating your cock, can feel it dripping down your balls. You keep fucking her, drawing out her orgasm, making her cry out with each thrust. Gradually you slow down the pace, each time your cock goes deep inside her, it pulls out slowly, you stay at this teasing pace until she catches her breath, then when you finally pull your cock out of her, without warning, you lift her shapely leg, exposing her dripping pussy and those delicate feet with festive red toenails.

"What are you doing?" she asks, watching as you grip her ankle.

"I'm gonna worship every inch of you," you growl, bringing her foot closer to your face. "Your pretty little toes look too tasty to resist."

Miyeon giggles nervously. "Nobody's ever... Oh fuck!" she gasps as you take her big toe into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The polish is smooth against your tongue as you suck gently, watching her face for reactions.

"Does that feel good, baby?" You ask between licks. Her toes taste clean with just a hint of salt from sweat.

"Mmmhh... it's weird but... kinda nice," she admits, wiggling her toes against your tongue. You take two toes in your mouth now, sucking harder as your hand slides up her thigh.

"Your feet are fucking perfect," you tell her, kissing down to her arch. "Just like the rest of you." Your fingers find her pussy lips, already swollen and slick from earlier. You gather some of her wetness and start rubbing slow circles around her clit.

"Ohhh..." Miyeon moans, her leg trembling in your grip. You alternate between sucking her toes and licking long stripes up her sole while your fingers work her pussy. Her cream coats your digits as you slide two inside her tight channel.

"So wet for me," you growl. "I love how your pussy gets all creamy when you're turned on." You curl your fingers, finding that special spot that makes her whole body jerk.

"Fuck! Right there!" she cries out, grinding against your hand. You keep the pressure steady, pumping your fingers as you lavish attention on her feet. Her pussy clenches rhythmically around you.

"You gonna cum again for me?" you ask, increasing the pace of your fingers. "Gonna soak my hand with that sweet pussy?"

"Yes! Please don't stop!" Miyeon pants, her head thrashing on the pillow. You can feel her getting close, her inner walls fluttering. Just before she peaks, you withdraw your fingers, making her whine in protest.

"Not yet baby," you tease, releasing her foot. "I want to fuck you while I suck these pretty toes." You position yourself behind her, keeping her leg lifted. Your cock slides easily through her folds, gathering her wetness.

"Please," she begs. "I need you inside me..."

You press just the tip against her entrance, making her squirm.

"Tell me how bad you want it."

"Please, baby, I need to feel your big cock deep in my pussy! Please fuck me... I'm so empty..."

Unable to resist her pleading, you thrust forward, burying your full length in her tight heat. "Fuuuck," you groan. "Your pussy feels amazing." You start a steady rhythm, not too fast yet, wanting to build her up slowly.

Miyeon moans with each thrust, her pussy gripping you perfectly. You capture her toes in your mouth again, sucking hard as you fuck her. The dual stimulation has her writhing.

"Oh god... that's so... unngh!" She can barely form words as pleasure overwhelms her. You increase your pace gradually, driving deeper. Her cream coats your shaft, making obscene wet sounds with each stroke.

"You like having your toes sucked while I fuck this tight pussy?" you ask, releasing her foot momentarily. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well."

"Yes! Love it... love your cock..." she gasps. You've never heard her talk so dirty before. It spurs you on, making you thrust harder.

Her pussy starts clenching erratically around you as you pound into her. You can tell she's getting close again. This time you don't let up, determined to make her cum hard.

"Something's happening..." Miyeon pants suddenly. "Feels different... like I need to pee..."

"That's it baby," you encourage her. "Don't fight it. Let go for me." You redouble your efforts, angling your hips to hit her g-spot with each thrust while sucking her toes enthusiastically.

"But... unngh... I can't..." she protests weakly, even as her body tenses up.

"Yes, you can! Cum for me Miyeon. Fucking squirt all over my cock!" You slam into her faster, feeling her pussy spasm around you.

"Oh god, oh god, OH FUCK!" Miyeon screams as the dam finally breaks. Clear fluid gushes from around your cock, soaking the sheets beneath you. Her whole body convulses as she experiences her first squirting orgasm.

You keep thrusting through her release, prolonging it as much as possible. More fluid spurts out with each stroke as she trembles uncontrollably.

"That's it baby, let it all out," you growl around her toes. "So fucking hot watching you squirt."

Miyeon can only moan incoherently as waves of pleasure crash over her. Her pussy clamps down so hard it nearly pushes you out, but you maintain your rhythm until her orgasm finally starts to subside.

You gently release her foot and slow your thrusts, giving her time to catch her breath. She looks absolutely wrecked in the best way possible.

"Holy shit," she pants when she can speak again. "What... what was that?"

You chuckle, still buried deep inside her quivering pussy. "That was you squirting, baby. Felt good, didn't it?"

She nods weakly. "Amazing... I didn't know I could do that..."

"Oh we're just getting started," you promise with a wicked grin. "Now that I know how to make you squirt, I'm gonna make you do it again and again..."

Miyeon whimpers at your words, her pussy clenching around you. You can feel she's still sensitive, but also still aroused.

Perfect.

"Ready?" you ask, starting to move inside her again. She moans in response as you lift her foot back to your mouth...

Your cock slides easily through her creamy folds as you build up a steady rhythm once more. Miyeon's moans get louder with each thrust, her oversensitive pussy gripping you like a vice.

"Such a good girl," you praise her between licks to her foot. "Taking my cock so well after that huge orgasm."

"Feels so good," she gasps. "Everything's so sensitive..."

You angle your hips to hit her g-spot again, making her whole body jerk. "Think you can squirt for me again?" You ask, increasing your pace slightly.

"I... unngh... maybe?" Miyeon pants. "Still feels like I might pee..."

"That's normal, baby. Just let it happen." You suck her big toe into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as you fuck her deeper. Her cream coats your shaft, dripping down onto the already soaked sheets.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck..." she chants as the pleasure builds. You can feel her starting to tense up again, her inner walls fluttering around your cock.

"That's it," you encourage her. "Let go for me. Show me what a good little squirter you are."

Your words push her over the edge. With a sharp cry, Miyeon's pussy contracts hard and another gush of clear fluid sprays out around your cock.

"Fuck yes!" You growl, maintaining your rhythm as she squirts. "So fucking hot watching you lose control like this."

Wave after wave of pleasure rocks through her body as you continue fucking her through the intense orgasm. Her toes curl against your tongue as more fluid spurts out with each thrust.

When her release finally subsides, Miyeon lies there trembling and gasping for air. You slow your pace but don't stop completely, knowing you can wring at least one more orgasm from her oversensitive body.

"Please..." she whimpers, her body trembling beneath you. "It's too much... I can't..."

"Shh, baby," you murmur, your voice steady and firm. "You can take it. You can take everything I give you." You slow your thrusts a little more, letting her catch her breath, but not enough to let her come down from the peak. "You've got one more in you. I know you do."

She shakes her head, her hair sticking to her sweat-slicked face. "No, I can't... I can't..."

"You can," you insist, your cock still moving inside her, stirring up her pleasure again. "You're a fucking goddess, Miyeon. You can take every inch of my cock. You can cum all over it again."

You increase your speed, your hips moving faster, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her scream. You can feel her pussy clenching around you, trying to keep you in, trying to milk you.

"Oh god," she moans, her voice rising in pitch. "Oh god, oh god, oh god..."

"That's it, baby," you growl. "Feel that? Feel my cock hitting your g-spot? You're gonna cum for me again. You're gonna squirt all over my cock."

"I'm so close... I'm so clo—OH GOD!" she cries out, her body tensing, her pussy gripping you like a vice.

You can feel her right on the edge, her body coiled tight, ready to snap. You lean down, your teeth finding her earlobe, biting down just hard enough to send a shockwave through her.

"Cum for me, Miyeon," you command, your voice low and rough. "Fucking let go. Let me feel that pussy explode. Let me see that squirt. Do it, baby. Fucking do it now."

She screams, her body convulsing, her eyes rolling back in her head. "I'm cumm—AAAAH!"

You can feel it, hot and wet, gushing out of her, coating your cock, dripping down your balls. You keep fucking her, drawing out her orgasm, making her scream with each thrust.

"That's it, baby," you groan. "Fuck, that's so good. You're squirting all over my cock. You're such a good girl, Miyeon. Such a fucking good girl."

Her body is shaking, her pussy still pulsing around you. You slow your thrusts, letting her ride out her orgasm, letting her come down slowly. You're about to cum, right on the edge, but you hold back again. This is about her.

This is about Miyeon.

You gently pull out of her, your cock still hard and glistening with her cum. You move down her body, your tongue tracing a path down her stomach, down to her pussy, your hands stroking her thighs, your touch gentle and soothing.

The bed beneath her is a fucking mess—sheets soaked through, the scent of sex heavy in the air. You can see the wet spot spreading, a testament to her pleasure.

"Fuck, baby," you murmur, your voice soft but filled with awe. "Look at this mess you made. You're so fucking sexy."

Miyeon's breath hitches as she looks down at the wet sheets, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and satisfaction. "I... I didn't know I could do that," she admits, her voice shaky. "It felt... god, it felt so fucking good."

You smile, your fingers tracing patterns on her inner thighs, feeling the slickness of her cum. "You squirted, baby. You fucking squirted all over my cock. It was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

She shivers, her body still sensitive from the intense orgasm. "I've never... I've never felt anything like that before. It was like... like my whole body just let go."

You lean in, your tongue lapping at her pussy, tasting her, cleaning her up. She jolts, her hips bucking slightly, but you hold her steady, your hands gripping her thighs.

"Shh, baby," you soothe. "Let me take care of you. Let me clean you up."

She relaxes, her body melting into the bed as you take your time, your tongue exploring every inch of her pussy. You can feel her shivering, her body responding to your touch. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of sweet and salty, pure fucking heaven.

"You taste so fucking good, Miyeon," you murmur, your voice low and husky. "I could do this all fucking night."

She moans softly, her fingers tangling in your hair. "It feels so good... I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I squirted."

You look up at her, your eyes meeting hers. She's watching you, her eyes soft and hazy with pleasure. You smile, your tongue giving her one last lick.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Miyeon," you whisper. "God, you're so fucking perfect…"

"But you haven't come yet," she suddenly notes.

"You're right. And where do you want my cum, princess?" You ask.

"On my face... want to taste you..."

"Fuck... Okay. Yeah, right. Get on your knees, baby,” you ask her as you quickly remove the condom.

Miyeon looks up at you with those innocent eyes as she kneels before you, her pretty face flushed with arousal. Her lips are already swollen from all the kissing, making them look even more cock-hungry than usual. You grab a fistful of her silky black hair, guiding her face closer to your throbbing shaft.

"Open that pretty mouth for me baby," you command, tapping your cock head against her plump lips. "I want to see how deep you can take it."

She parts her lips obediently, sticking out her pink tongue to lap at your sensitive tip. The sight of your precum glistening on her tongue makes your cock throb with need. You slowly feed her more of your length, watching in satisfaction as her lips stretch around your girth.

"Mmmmph," she moans around your cock, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. She clearly loves having her mouth filled, eagerly sucking and slurping as you push deeper.

You start with slow, shallow thrusts, letting her get used to your size. Her tongue swirls expertly around your shaft as you slide in and out between those perfect lips. Wet sucking sounds fill the room along with her muffled moans.

"That's it baby, take my cock," you growl, tightening your grip in her hair. "Your mouth feels so fucking good."

She responds by taking you deeper, relaxing her throat to accommodate more of your length. Tears form in the corners of her eyes as you hit the back of her throat, but she doesn't pull away.

If anything, she seems even more eager.

You pick up the pace slightly, fucking her mouth with measured strokes. Her lipstick is getting smeared all over your cock, marking it with traces of red. The sight of her face getting messy already has your balls tightening.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you praise, watching her cheeks hollow with suction. "You love having your pretty face fucked don't you?"

She nods as best she can with your cock stuffed in her mouth, humming in agreement. The vibrations send pleasure shooting through your shaft.

You pull out briefly to let her catch her breath, a string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock head. She gasps for air but immediately opens wide again, eager for more. Her face is already a mess of smeared makeup and drool.

"Please fuck my face harder," she begs, voice hoarse. "I want you to use my mouth like a pussy."

You don't need to be asked twice. Gripping her head firmly with both hands, you slam your cock back between her lips. This time you don't hold back, setting a brutal pace as you fuck her throat. She gags and chokes but takes it like a champ, her eyes watering heavily.

The wet sounds of her throat getting pounded are absolutely obscene. Drool runs down her chin and neck as you use her mouth roughly. Her hands grip your thighs for support but she doesn't try to pull away or slow you down.

"Fuck yes, take that cock," you grunt, watching your shaft disappear repeatedly into her willing mouth. "Going to paint that pretty face white soon."

She moans eagerly around your length, clearly excited by the promise of a facial. You can feel your orgasm building as her throat muscles massage your sensitive head.

Your thrusts become more erratic as you get closer to the edge. Her face is an absolute mess now - mascara running down her cheeks, lipstick completely ruined, drool everywhere. She looks utterly debauched and you haven't even cum yet.

"Get ready baby," you warn, feeling your balls tighten. "Going to cover that beautiful face."

You pull out just in time, the slick heat of her lips giving way as you grip your shaft tightly, aiming at Miyeon's upturned face. Her mouth is already open, tongue stretched out, her eyes locked on yours with a look of pure, desperate need. "Give it to me," she breathes, her voice thick with anticipation. The sight of her waiting so hungrily for your release sends a jolt through you, your cock twitching violently in your hand.

With a guttural groan, you let go, the first rope of hot cum splattering across her forehead and sliding down to her nose. She gasps softly, her breath hitching as the next thick jet paints her cheek, followed by another streaking across the bridge of her nose. Your hand works your shaft steadily, aiming with intent, making sure to glaze her perfect lips thoroughly, the creamy mess dripping onto her tongue as she moans in satisfaction.

She doesn’t flinch—if anything, she leans into it, her tongue sweeping over her lips, savoring every drop that lands in her mouth. You’re relentless, emptying yourself onto her until her face is a masterpiece of your desire, every inch of her skin marked with your seed. Thick streaks cling to her lashes, a stray drop dangling precariously from her chin before falling onto her chest. By the time you're finished, she’s a vision of debauched perfection, her flushed cheeks and parted lips framed by the glistening evidence of your climax.

"Fuck," you mutter, your voice hoarse as you admire her. "Look at you. My perfect, filthy girl."

She moans softly, tilting her head as you bring your cock closer, your tip still sensitive but eager for more. Slowly, deliberately, you use your softening length to spread the mess across her skin. You smear the cum over her cheeks, tracing her jawline, rubbing it into her lips before sliding down to her chin. She stays perfectly still, her eyes closed, a serene smile tugging at her mouth as she basks in the attention.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” you whisper, your voice thick with awe. “That pretty face deserves to be covered in my cum every day.”

Her lashes flutter as she peeks up at you, her voice soft but dripping with satisfaction. “I’ll let you paint me whenever you want. I love how it feels... so warm, so dirty.”

Your thumb moves to her lips, smearing the last of the cum over them before pushing lightly into her mouth. She sucks on it obediently, her tongue flicking against your skin, her moan vibrating through your thumb.

When you finally pull back, you grab a handful of tissues, leaning down to clean her face. You start gently, dabbing at her cheeks and lips, but you can’t help but pause to admire her wrecked state—the messy hair, her flushed skin, her swollen, cock-bruised lips. Even as you clean her, the heat between you lingers, your touch lingering on her skin as she smiles up at you.

"You’re mine, Miyeon," you blurt out unconsciously, but there’s no mistaking the edge in your voice.

"Yours," she repeats, her voice a dreamy whisper. "Yeah, I'm yours.”

—

After changing the sheets on the bed, you both collapse onto the fresh, clean mattress, exhausted but content. You pull Miyeon close, her body fitting perfectly against yours as you snuggle together. The room is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the window.

Miyeon props herself up on an elbow, looking down at you with those dark, beautiful eyes. "So... this isn't just a one-time thing, right?" she asks, her voice soft but hopeful.

You pull her in for a kiss, your lips lingering on hers. "Definitely not," you murmur against her mouth. "Unless you want it to be?"

"No!" she says quickly, then blushes, her cheeks turning a cute shade of pink. "I mean... I really like you. Like, really really like you."

You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. "Good, because I really really like you too," you say. "Even when you're not dressed as an elf."

She groans, hiding her face in your neck. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?" she mumbles, her voice muffled.

You chuckle, your arms tightening around her. "Nope. It's how we met, it's part of our love story now."

She goes still in your arms, her body tensing slightly.

"Love story?" She asks

Shit. Too soon? You think to yourself, wondering if you've fucked up. But then she's beaming up at you with that bright smile that first caught your attention, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Yeah," you say softly. "Love story."

She kisses you again, pouring all her feelings into it. When she pulls back, her eyes are sparkling with happy tears. "Best Christmas present ever," she declares, her voice filled with joy.

[iuchamjohta]

Pretty, Cutie, Kittie, Minnie

Male Reader X Minnie

(5612 words)

Enjoy! See end for notes! She was too irresistable I had to write something :D no tags! other than the obvious petplay shall leave the rest for surprises. Didnt proof read so sorry if there are errors.

Work calls and meetings were the bane of your existence, constantly pulling you away from what you truly cherished. You longed to be at home with the girl you love.  After being away for just nine hours at the office, it felt like an eternity. You drove home with a sense of urgency, eager to escape the constraints of your day and return to the comfort you craved, to who was waiting for you at home.

As you reached the doorstep, your hands trembled with anticipation as you fumbled with the keys. With a hurried twist, you flung the door open, your heart racing. The sight that greeted you made your fatigue melt away in an instant. There was, Minnie—your girlfriend and kitten—wearing a playful set of cat ears and a charming maid costume.

She knelt gracefully on a plush pillow, her eyes beaded with excitement as she awaited your return. A wide, relieved smile spread across your face, and all the stress of the day seemed to dissolve in the warmth of her welcoming presence.

“Look at you, little kitten,” you exclaimed with excitement, gently patting her head softly. “What a perfect kitty you are. I’ve missed you so much,” you cooed. Even though you see Minnie every day, you never could grow tired of her. You find yourself continually admiring her cuteness and beauty as if you were seeing her for the very first time.

Minnie looked up at you with her kitten-like eyes, clearly enjoying the gentle pats you gave her. You ran your fingers through her hair before lowering your hands to cup her soft cheeks, massaging them tenderly. Minnie purred and nuzzled her face deeper into you, savouring the affection you were showing her.

“Such a good kitten for daddy, Daddy’s got a gift for you”. From your bag, you pulled a delicate pink collar, with a small bell that jingled softly. In the middle of the collar, engraved her name in silver beautifully. It was a gift that signified who she truly belonged to. Her eyes sparkled at the beautiful gift as she tilted her chin back exposing her neck. 

“Thank you daddy.” Minnie said as she looked at you in appreciation. You moved behind her, running your fingers on her neck, giving it a little squeeze before fastening the collar around her slender neck. The pink satin contrasted beautifully against her pale skin, and the bell chimes softly with each movement.

You adjusted the collar until it was an appropriate tightness so that it was not too uncomfortable for Minnie. You loved her after all and the last thing you wanted was your precious kitten to get hurt. Finally, you attached the leash to the collar, connecting you to her, a symbol of submission. You were about to engage in your favourite play time with her. 

“Let’s start with a walk, shall we?” You said, tugging gently on the leash. Minnie follows obediently, crawling on her hands and knees, her movements graceful and sensual. The tiles on the floor rubbed against her knees and palms, but it only reminded her of her commitment to you. You guide her around the living room, watching the enticing sway of her hips as she moves. You couldn’t help but land an open handed spank on her ass, watching the pale skin slowly turned red. 

“What must you say kitten?”

“Thank you, Daddy” her eyes are fixed on you, filled with devotion. Your fingers went lower, gently grazing her folds, feeling its wetness. “Naughty kitten, already wet from getting spanked”. 

You lead her to the sofa and sat down, pulling her closer until she kneels between your legs. The position is perfect, her face at the ideal height for what you have in mind. You stroke her hair, your touch tender and commanding before guiding them down the side of her face until your thumb brushes lightly against her lower lip. With a delicate motion, you eased Minnie’s mouth open just enough to slip your thumb inside. 

Minnie responded by sucking on your thumb gently. You added your index finger, using your thumb and index finger to roll around her tongue, in which Minnie responded by opening her mouth wider and sticking out her tongue for you to play.

“I missed you so fucking much my kitten” “Suck me, kittten” you commanded. Minnie doesn’t hesitate; she unbuckles your belt as fast as she could before pulling your jeans down. Then she leans forward, her lips parting to take you into her warm, wet mouth. She’s such a skilled cock-sucker, and her enthusiasm shows as she works her magic. Her tongue swirls around the head of your cock, teasing the sensitive underside before lowering her even further taking you deeper into her mouth. 

“Fuck, this is just what I needed” You groan the pleasure coursing through your body. Minnie purrs and the vibrations of her voice could be felt on your cock amplifying your pleasure. Your hands tighten in her hair, guiding her rhythm as she bobs her head, her full lips sliding up and down your shaft. You could feel her enthusiasm and her eagerness to please you and you appreciated every bit of it. 

Just as you were getting into the mood, your phone buzzes with an urgent work call. You cursed under your breath , knowing you can’t ignore it, yet annoyed that it has interrupted your playtime. 

“Stay” You commanded, while pulling on the leash to pull her away from your cock. Minnie whimpers softly, her eyes pleading as she looks at you, visibly upset being denied her dessert. You move to the other side of the room, answering the call with a frustrated sigh. As you discuss work matters, you glance over at Minnie, still kneeling patiently, her collared neck a constant reminder of the pleasure waiting for you.

The call seems to last an eternity, but finally, you ended it. Your eyes lock with Minnie's, and you see the desire burning in her gaze. She's been a good girl, waiting patiently for your attention. Disappointingly you had an emergency work meeting you had to attend online due to some shit that had cropped up again at work. 

“Sorry baby… I have to tend to a meeting real quick, just give me a moment.”

“Hmmph, unfair I have been waiting all day, does Daddy not love me?” She pouts angrily. 

“I’m sorry, I promise to make it up to you after this meeting, you know you are the number 1 for me” you said while patting her head gently before pecking her forehead. Pulling up your pants, you left her to get your laptop to join the meeting.

You sit at your desk, frustrated that your playtime has been interrupted, but you remain focused, trying to resolve the issues that have came up. All you wanted is for the meeting to end so you can get back to playing with Minnie. It has almost been an hour since leaving her and even you were getting impatient. 

As you talked, you were unaware of the naughty kitten, Minnie, who had crawled under your desk, eager to worship her Master's cock. She knows she should be a good girl and wait patiently, but the temptation is too great. Suddenly, you feel your pants being dragged to your ankles again. 

You look down to see Minnie, your precious kitten, parting her soft lips and taking you into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head, tasting the familiar flavour of your precum from the interrupted session. Her brown eyes sparkle with affection as she looks up at you, her hair falling over her face. She wants to please you , craving your attention and approval after having been denied that the whole day. You held back your moan, knowing you were still in the meeting as the warm mouth embraced your shaft. 

Whenever you unmute to contribute , Minnie would tighten her lips around your shaft, sucking gently at first, but as you emphasise a point, she would intentionally take it as a sign to suck harder. She deepthroats you, her throat muscles massaging your length, her saliva coating your dick. The sensation is incredible, and you feel your cock twitch in her mouth. 

"Umm... I think we should move on to the next agenda item," you say, your voice slightly hoarse as you try to maintain your composure. You shift in your chair, subtly adjusting your position to give Minnie better access. Unbeknownst to your colleagues, you're enjoying a private show. “Naughty kitty, so impatient for Daddy” You looked down at her and smirked as you muted yourself again. 

Minnie took that as encouragement and became bolder. The next time you unmuted and spoked, She moaned softly around your cock, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. Her hands roam over your thighs, her nails gently scraping the sensitive skin. You sure as hell hoped your colleagues did not hear the moan.

“Right, on the system downtime,” You manage to say, clearing your throat. “ We need to focus on…” You trail off as Minnie's warm mouth envelops your balls, sucking gently, teasingly. You grip the edge of the desk, trying to maintain your professional demeanor while your body betrays you. 

One of your colleagues, unaware of the naughty scene beneath the desk, asks a question. You answer, your voice strained, as Minnie's mouth returns to your cock, her tongue flicking at the sensitive underside. You can't help but thrust your hips upwards, fucking her face gently, the sight of her pretty face buried in your lap almost making you lose control.

The meeting continues, and Minnie's blowjob becomes more intense with each passing minute. She's a talented cock-sucker, using her lips and tongue to drive you wild. She continued her game, whenever you had to speak , she took it as a cue to tighten her throat around your cock, her way of competing for your attention. 

"Yes, we aim to complete it by Thursday then," you say, your voice slightly strained. You can feel your orgasm building, and you know you won't last much longer, you had to end the meeting quickly. 

As the meeting wraps up, you thank your colleagues, your eyes briefly meeting the curious gaze of one of your teammates, who gives you a knowing smile. You wonder if they had suspected anything, but you dismiss the thought as you focus on the kitten beneath your desk. The moment the call ended, you reached down and gently grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging her head back slightly. 

"You've been a very naughty pet, Minnie. I think you've earned some special attention." “Open wide, kitty, I’m going to fuck your face”.  

Minnie complied, opening her mouth wide to receive you once more. This time, you thrust into her mouth with force, her lips sliding down your length, and her throat accepting you fully. You held her head in place, fucking her mouth with brutally, as she gagged slightly, her eyes watering from the force of your penetration. But she didn't pull away; instead, she relaxed her throat, allowing you to take control. 

You continued pounding her mouth, your balls slapping against her chin with each thrust. Minnie's moans and whimpers of pleasure fueled your desire, and you could feel your orgasm building rapidly. "That's it, take it, my little slut," you growled, your voice hoarse. "Suck my cock like the good kitten you are."

Minnie's hands reached back, gripping your thighs as she surrendered herself to your pleasure. You felt her nails dig into your skin, leaving marks as she urged you on. Her mouth was pure heaven, hot and tight, and the thought of her willingly submitting to your desires sent you over the edge. 

Just as you were about to reach your climax, you reached down with your hands, and using two fingers you pinched her nose, cutting off Minnie’s breathing. This caused her to inhale deeply through her mouth, in her attempt to gasp for air , which undoubtedly tightened her throat around your shaft. 

With a loud grunt, you exploded, jets of hot cum shot down her throat. Minnie gasped at the volume, she maintained eye contact with you throughout, her big eyes staring at you with affection as she savoured the taste of your release. She swallowed, eagerly, milking your cock with her mouth , ensuring she didn’t waste a single drop. 

As your orgasm subsided, you panted, catching your breath, while Minnie licked her lips, a satisfied smile on her face. "Thank you, Daddy” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the intense blowjob. "I love being your little cock-worshipping pet."

You reached down and caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears that had flowed from her eyes from the intense throat fuck.  "Nicha, you've been a naughty girl," you say, your voice firm as you stand up, your hard cock springing free from her mouth.

"Sucking my cock during an important meeting. You know the rules." “Naughty girls need to be punished."

Nicha… is the name you always use when you are about to punish your kitty. Minnie’s eyes sparkle with excitement. She loves being punished knowing it is a sign of your affection as well as ownership of her. She crawls out from under the desk, her body flushed and her lips glistening with her saliva and cum. 

Grabbing the leash this time, you led her to the nearby couch and grabbed a few things along the way, your eyes never leaving her.

“Bend over, Nicha” you instructed, your voice low and commanding. Obediently, she bends over your lap, her ass presented to you, her hands resting on the cushions. You admire her round, firm cheeks, knowing you're about to leave your mark on her.

“Count” You begin by running your hand gently over her smooth, creamy cheeks before landing a firm smack on her right cheek, watching it turn a delicate shade of pink.  "One," she counts, her voice slightly trembling. You alternate cheeks, delivering another sharp smack, this time on the left, and feel her muscles tense under your touch. "Two," she continues, her voice now a little steadier.

Each strike of your hand leaves a warm, glowing imprint on her skin, and you admire the beautiful blush that spreads across her ass. You deliver another pair of smacks, this time with a bit more force, and hear the satisfying sound of your palm connecting with her soft flesh. "Three... four," Minnie counts, her voice a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Between each strike, you pause, letting the heat build in her ass, watching as the pink hue deepens to a fiery red. You're an artist, and her ass is your canvas, gradually being painted with the colours of her punishment. "Five... six," she gasps as your hand continues its rhythmic dance, alternating between her cheeks.

As you reach double digits, Minnie's breathing becomes more heavy, her pussy dripping wet as the pain and pleasure intertwine. "Seven... eight," she pants, her voice hoarse with desire. 

You lean down, whispering into her ear, "You like this, don't you, pet? Being punished for being such a naughty girl?"

Minnie's response is a mere whimper, her body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. "Nine... ten," she manages to say, her voice breaking as you land two more smacks.

You decided it’s time to move to the next phase. Reaching over for a bottle of lube that you have previously grabbed, you warmed your hands with a generous amount.  With deliberate, sensual strokes, you began to massage the lubricant onto her anus.

Minnie moaned softly, her body responding to your touch as you prepared her for the plug that she had seen you previously grabbed. "Relax, Nicha,""Let me prepare you for your new toy."

Your fingers worked their magic, gently probing and stretching her tight hole. You took your time, wanting to ensure her comfort and pleasure. As you slowly inserted one, then two fingers, Minnie's breath hitched, and she pushed back against your hand, craving more.

"Oh, Daddy, please," she begged

You smiled, pleased with her eagerness. Withdrawing your fingers, you took a silicone butt plug from the box, a sleek, black toy with a delicate tail attached to its base. Perfect for your kitty. You coat it generously with lube, the clear liquid glistening in the dim light. You gently positioned the tip at her entrance and began to push against her tight hole, as you heard Minnie whimpers. 

"Shh, pet," you soothe. With a slow, deliberate push, you begin to insert it, feeling her muscles clench around the intruder. "Relax, Minnie," you instruct, gently working the plug deeper into her ass.

Minnie's eyes fluttered shut and breath catches in her throat, as the plug slowly invaded her, stretching her in a way that was both unfamiliar and intensely arousing. You twist the plug slightly, stimulating her further, and you feel her body tremble in response. "Oh... oh God," she whispers, her voice barely audible. You continued to push the plug further gently. The sight of her ass contracting and gripping the toy with her tight walls was beautiful.

You took your time, allowing her to adjust to the new sensation, before finally seating the plug fully, the tail hanging provocatively between her cheeks.

"Stand up, my kitten," you instructed, your eyes gleaming with desire. "Let Daddy see how it looks on you." Minnie rose to her feet, her movements graceful, the butt plug accentuating the curves of her ass. The tail swayed and dangled provocatively between her legs, brushing against her swollen pussy lips with every move she made. She turned around, offering you a full view of her plugged ass, with her red cheeks due to the spanking. 

“You look beautiful, Nicha” You praised “The plug suits you perfectly, let’s see how it feels” 

Using the leash, you guided her again to the couch, positioning her on her knees, her ass raised high, presenting her glistening pussy to you. With her hands resting on the couch for support, you stepped behind her, your eyes taking in the sight of her exposed, plugged ass. 

You reached out and gave the tail a gentle tug, eliciting a gasp from Minnie. "Does it feel good, my pet? Does my kitten like her new toy?"

"Yes, Daddy," she panted, her voice strained. "It feels incredible deep inside me”

You began to tease her, running your fingers along the length of the tail, tugging and caressing it, sending waves of pleasure and anticipation through her body. You alternated between soft strokes and firm pulls, driving her wild with desire. You watched intently at her ass stretched, as the buttplug moved in and out of her.

"You like that, don't you, kitten?" "Being punished for your naughtiness” You said as you ran your fingers through her already soaking folds, feeling its wetness.

"Yes, Daddy," she replied, your voice breathless. "It makes me so wet."

Your hand paused, and Minnie whimpered at the loss of contact, craving more of yoour touch. "Oh, but you shouldn't be enjoying this, should you?" you said, your voice laced with mock disappointment. "You've been a naughty girl and naughty girls don’t get to cum” 

Minnie shivered at your words, knowing this punishment was far from over and you were about to edge her continuously. 

"Spread your legs, kitten,""Let me see how naughty you've been." 

Obediently, Minnie widens her stance, revealing her glistening pussy lips, already swollen. She bit her lips as she felt your fingers gently part her folds, exposing her sensitive clit.

Such a naughty girl," "Your pussy is dripping, begging for attention. This is still a punishment and you will get to cum when I say so” You reminded again.

She knew the consequence would be worse to disobey you and she was going to use every bit of her will to follow through with this. 

Your fingers danced over her clit, teasing and denying her the pleasure she so desperately craved. She squirmed, trying to press herself against your hand, seeking release. "Please, Daddy," she begged “ I need more” 

You obliged, plunging two fingers deep inside her wetness, which elicited a gasp from her lips. Your fingers worked in and out , stretching and filling her, while your thumb found Minnie’s clit, circling it relentlessly. 

“Oh, fuck!” Minnie cried out, her body shaking as you finger fucked her pussy. “I can’t… I can’t hold back , Daddy”

“You will.” You asserted with a firm dominant voice “ Don’t you dare cum without Daddy’s permission” You increased the pace, your fingers pounding into her needy hole while your thumb worked her clit in perfect rhythm. Minnie’s body quivered, teetering on the edge of orgasm, but you held you there, denying her release.

"Please, please, Daddy," Minnie pleaded, your voice reduced to a whimper. "I'll be good, I promise. Just let me cum."

Your fingers paused, just as she was about to hit her high and she whined in protest , desperate for release. “Not yet, kitten.” “I want to feel every inch of my cock inside this tight little pussy first.”

Grasping the leash tightly, you guide Minnie onto the ground, lowering her until she’s on all fours again, her knees sinking into the soft rug.  As you position yourself behind her, your cock throbs eager to claim what's rightfully yours. You reach down one hand still holding the leash while the other grabbing her hips and pulling her towards you.

With one swift motion, you slide your length into her wet pussy, eliciting a gasp from Minnie's lips. Her warmth envelops you, her tight muscles gripping your shaft as you begin to thrust. You set a relentless pace, pounding into her, claiming her hole as yours. 

Minnie's hands clench the rug beneath her, enjoying her body being used "Oh, yes, fuck me, Daddy," she moans "Use my pussy, please, use it hard." You obliged, lowering her into a prone position, before withdrawing almost entirely and slamming back into her, your hips smacking her ass with each forward thrust. 

The leash provides an additional layer of control, and you give it a gentle tug, pulling her back towards you, ensuring every inch of your cock fills her. The sound of flesh meeting fills the reverberates loudly through the room. Reaching forward, you grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck. You plant open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive skin, tasting the salt of her sweat. "You like it rough, don't you, Nicha?" you whispered in her ears.

"Yes, Daddy," she pants, her voice trembling from the intense pleasure "I love it when you take control, when you use me like this." Your fingers moved to find the base of the butt plug, still nestled snugly in her ass. You twist it slightly, making her whimper and push back against your hand. "Please, Daddy, may I cum?" she begs, her voice a mixture of desperation and pleading.

"Not yet, pet, not until I feel you have earned it” With that, you resume your assault on her core, alternating between rapid, shallow thrusts and deep, slow penetrations, ensuring her body remains on the edge between pleasure and frustration.

As you fuck her, you admire the sight of her slender figure, the curve of her waist, and the swell of her hips. Her back glistens with a fine sheen of sweat, reflecting the soft lighting of the room. You lean forward again, your chest pressing against her back, your hands roaming over her body, claiming every inch as your own.

Your fingers find her nipples, pinching and rolling them between your thumb and forefinger. Minnie arches her back, pushing her breasts into your hands, seeking more stimulation. You oblige, squeezing and twisting, eliciting a chorus of moans and whimpers from her lips. This new positioned allowed you fuck deeper into her.

"You're so responsive, Nicha," "Every inch of your body craving to be touched and played with” You bite down gently on her earlobe, sucking it into your mouth, marking her with your teeth further. 

Minnie's hands move to her clit, her fingers brushing against the sensitive bud, seeking the release you've denied her. "No, pet," you command, slapping her hand away. "You'll cum when I allow it, and not a moment before."

"I... I can't hold it much longer," she pants, her body shaking. As your thrust became more erratic, you felt that she had earned it and it was time to give her her reward. You reached between her legs, fingers finding her clit and began to rub it in firm circles as you pounded into her.

“Now kitten, Cum, Cum for Daddy” 

Your command was all Minnie needed. Her body convulses in pleasure , her pussy clenching around your cock as she rides out the waves of orgasm. You continued to thurst, fucking her through her orgasm as her juice splattered all over the rug. After a while, your cock slid out of her, Minnie arms gave way and she collapsed on the floor, her pussy still throbbing from the post-orgasm. 

Turning around, Minnie sees your cock still fully erected. “Sorry.. I came before Daddy”. Reaching lower, she spreads her tight asscheeks, with the buttplug still lodged deep inside her. “Would Daddy like to use this hole instead?”

Your eyes widened at the suggestion, yet you couldn't hide your excitement. You have tried anal with her before, but she could not relax enough and you found it hard to get even the tip in. You did not want the first experience to be painful for your pet. You deeply loved her after all. Determined to make it special this time, you approach her with a mix of eagerness and care.

“Are you sure about this?” Minnie nods in response. “Remember, kitten, we’re taking it slow today, and we will go at your pace, if it is too much, just sound out and we will stop” Minnie felt fuzzy at your care. Despite the rough sex, you have always added in bits of tenderness which made her knew she can trust you fully. 

You reached for the tail buttplug, and slowly removed it , watching her face for any signs of discomfort. Her breath quickens as the toy slides out, leaving her ass exposed and slightly gaping. The pink flesh, glistening with her natural lubrication, is a sight that sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but lean forward and plant a soft kiss on one of her cheeks, savouring the taste of her.

"Open your mouth, Minnie," You had switched back to her name signifying the end of her punishment. Minnie obeyed, mouth watering at the thought of what you were about to do. You guided the tip of the plug to her lips, and she parted them eagerly, sucking the toy into her mouth. The taste of her own ass could be felt which made her feel incredibly nasty and aroused. She swirled her tongue around it, cleaning it with her saliva. 

Positioning yourself behind her, you guide your rock-hard cock to her entrance, feeling the heat radiating from her body. The tip of your dick touches her puckered hole, and you pause, letting her get accustomed to the sensation. You've learned from your previous attempt that patience is key, and you want to ensure she enjoys every moment.

With a gentle push, you apply a bit of pressure, feeling her tightness resist your intrusion. Minnie lets out a soft whimper, a mix of pleasure and discomfort.

"Relax, my pet. Breathe with me. It's okay to feel a little pain, but we'll go as far as you want. You're in control."

You take a moment to caress her hips, your hands soothing the tension from her body. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you push forward again, this time managing to sink the head of your cock into her tight channel. Minnie's breath catches, and she arches her back slightly, her body instinctively reacting to the invasion.

"Oh, fuck, is it in yet"

"Not yet, just about one-third.”

You sense her disbelief, and wonder how she is going to take all of you in her ass. You slowly inch your way in bit by bit. 

 "That's it, kitty. You're taking me in, inch by inch. Such a good girl."

With each gentle thrust, you sink deeper, filling her with a slow, relentless rhythm. Her ass clenches around your shaft, the tightness almost unbearable almost forcing your orgasm immediately. You want to pound into her, to claim her completely, but you hold back, letting her guide the pace, it was your first successful attempt after all. 

"You like it deep, don't you, Minnie? Tell me how much you love my cock stretching your sweet ass."

Minnie's response is a moan, her words muffled as she bites down on the silicone buttplug that laid beside her. "Yes... I love it... It hurts so good... Fill me... please..."

Encouraged by her plea, you start to pick up the pace, your hips moving in a steady rhythm. You could feel her ass relaxing, giving you more freedom to move in and out of her. As you fuck her, you reach around and start to play with her sensitive clit, knowing how much she loves the dual stimulation. Your fingers tease the hard bud, rubbing and circling it, sending waves of pleasure through her body. Minnie's moans turn into desperate cries, her body trembling with the intensity of the sensations.

"Oh, Daddy.. I'm so close... Don't stop... Fuck my ass... and my pussy..." Her pussy, glistening with arousal, is a temptation you can't resist. You slide a finger down, finding her wet entrance and plunging it deep inside, matching the rhythm of your cock in her ass. Her pussy was a whimpering mess, juices spilling everywhere and wetting the surrounding. 

A naughty thought crosses your mind as you grabbed the steel feeding bowl nearby for her meals and placed it beneath her dripping pussy. As you continue to fuck her, the pace becoming increasingly frantic, you notice the bowl filling with her juices. The sight is incredibly arousing—a testament to her arousal. You can't help but wonder what it would be like to taste her although if anything you have tasted her the most.

You lifted your other hand before delivering spanks on her already redeened cheeks. Each time your hand connected with her ass, you could feel her hole clenched tighter around your shaft.

"Naughty girl, enjoying getting spanked."

Sensing Minnie on the edge of an intense orgasm, you quickened your thrusting and spanking, plunging deeper into her anal walls as you curled your fingers reaching her G-spot. “That’s it, baby,cum for me. Let everything go” 

Minnie’s body shakes and a high-pitched scream fills the air as she cums, her ass clenching and milking your cock, her pussy pushing your fingers out as a gush of squirt fills the metal bowl below her. 

You felt your balls tightened and quickly pulled out your sensitive cock with a wet sucking sound as you watched her ass gaped slightly. You tug on the leash to spin her around to watch. “On your knees, kitty” 

Obediently, she kneels, her eyes fixed on you as you step towards the feeding bowl. You stroke your cock, still hard and glistening with her juices, and aim it at the bowl. With a few sharp jerks, you release your hot cum, watching as it mixes with her nectar, creating a unique cocktail. You smiled at your creation. 

“Now, kitten” “Here’s your reward” You lowered her using the leash as she crawls forward towards the metal bowl. She dips her head, her pink tongue extending to lap at the mixture of cum and pussy juice. The sight was incredibly erotic for you, an act of complete submission by your pet. 

“Mmm, it’s so good Daddy” She mewls between licks. “I love the taste of us together.” You kneel beside her, running your hand through her hair, guiding her as she cleans the bowl with her tongue. 

"That's my good girl," you praise, your voice softening. You share a quiet moment with her, gently patting her head and pecking her cheeks. “You did so well kitty” You said as you held her close, feeling her heart facing against yours. More than the sex, you deeply adored her. After a while, you both drift into a comfortable silence, wrapped in the comforting embrace of each other's company. 

Eventually you got up and led her through the leash back to her cage to rest for the night. Before she reaches her resting spot, she hesitates for a moment before looking at you with those cute beady dreamy eyes. "Would it be okay if… Minnie sleeps with Daddy in his room tonight? For a bit of extra cozy? Her voice is soft and shy. "

You smile, touched by her request and give a gentle nod. “Of course, Minnie, I’d love that.” Her face lights up with a relieved smile, and she takes your hand as you both head towards your room together. 

Ignoring the sweat and cum stains on your bodies, you both slip under the covers. She insisted on wearing the collar to sleep , since it was your gift and in a few moments she had drifted off deeply into sleep. You admire your pretty kitten for a while, staring at her sleep cutely. Moving a few strands of hair behind her eyes, you leaned in for another peck on her forehead, before cuddling her and closing your heavy eyes to rest.

You thoroughly enjoyed your playtime and you could not wait to try many different things with the kitty you loved so much, your pretty, cutie, kitty Minnie.

Hope you enjoyed the piece! Kitty Minnie was so fitting after this post with her tongue out and in a cage. She was tooooo cute. Too little G-idle fics out there despite them being hot.

I intentionally took note to paragraph and split my sentenced this time , hope it is better for reading!

This is for the author who previously asked to write about Minnie too! Let me know your thoughts comments. Again if you want to drop a request refer to the master list or if you would like to commission a piece drop me a pm!

[unstable-samurai]

First Light

Shuhua x Male Reader

Word Count: 16k

one-shot

You're in the lifeguard tower, a cubicle that smells of sunscreen and snacks, arguing with your supervisor about carburetors. He's talking about his Chevelle, and you pretend to understand, but all you can think about is the roar of the engine and how much you'd rather be on the road than here, where the warm breeze seems to glue your skin to the fabric of the chair.

"I’ve got some paperwork to deal with," he says, patting his pocket as if that would make the paperwork more real. "You got this?"

Of course, you’ve got this.

Nothing much is happening right now. The day will repeat itself quietly, like the previous ones—maybe someone will step on a jellyfish, but that’s about it.

For now, just sun-kissed bodies scattered like shells and the sound of the waves repeating the same eternal monologue.

Minutes pass.

Maybe five.

Maybe fifteen.

You see something at the edge of the beach. A crowd. People running to the same spot, like ants in a panic. You grab the binoculars, focus on the scene. Screams. Hands waving desperately.

Okay, maybe things would deviate from normal today.

You know what's happening before you even see the guy's head bobbing up and down, like a miniature castaway.

Your heart speeds up in a "it’s now or never" way. Adrenaline starts to boil in your blood. Without thinking, you grab the jetski and go. Each wave is a slap in the face, the sun a fluorescent lamp frying your neck.

You barely hear the voices around you. Everything is muffled, as if you’ve dived underwater. But you keep moving, your body acting on reflex, instincts forged in drills repeated to exhaustion. The jetski cuts through the water like a blade, spraying droplets that glisten in the morning sun. In the distance, the crowd huddles on the sand, small silhouettes blurred by distance and heat.

The man is floating, face up, but the waves keep pulling him down, away from where he should be. His body moves awkwardly, arms flailing in the water with the desperation of someone who knows time is running out. And you? You’re just an extension of the jetski, muscles and nerves automated, your mind cold as ice.

There’s no time to think. Only to act.

You slow down and approach from behind, tossing the buoy towards the man, who tries to grab it, but his movements are uncoordinated, sluggish. The current is stronger than it looked from afar. You need to be quick. One mistake, and he goes under. Without hesitation, you dive into the water, the cold impact enveloping you, but your mind stays sharp, focused. You feel the resistance of the sea against your body as you swim towards him.

"Grab the lifebuoy!" you shout, your voice lost in the wind and waves, but he finally manages to hold onto it, his fingers white from gripping so hard. You feel the weight of his body as you start pulling him towards the jetski. He doesn’t struggle, but he’s heavy, as if the water itself is trying to keep him.

You lift him just enough so he can lean against the side of the jetski. He’s gasping for air, coughing up water, his eyes wide with fear, but still, conscious. You climb back onto the jetski, keeping a firm hand on him as you steer the vehicle back to the shore. The return trip feels longer, the waves seeming to conspire to pull you both further away, but you don’t slow down.

On the sand, the crowd parts, creating a narrow path to where you’ll land. They’re silent, the kind of heavy silence as if they’re waiting to see if this will have a happy ending. You steer the jetski onto the shore, jumping onto the sand before anyone can react. With the help of a pair of arms you barely see, the man is pulled out of the water, his feet dragging in the sand as he tries to catch his breath.

The supervisor, the great major of this beach, is already there. From somewhere, he appeared, arms crossed, a smile on his face barely containing his pride.

"First rescue, huh, son?" He claps you on the shoulder as if you were a war hero. "Kid, you did a good job. One day you’re going to be better than me."

But the words don’t penetrate the layer of indifference you’ve built around yourself. You just shrug, looking at the man now sitting on the sand, supported by other lifeguards, his breathing finally returning to normal. People start clapping, soon becoming more intense. People taking pictures, a commotion to remember later, something to tell over dinner or post on social media.

Curious eyes, pointing fingers.

They say: "Hero," "Savior," "Blessed."

But you barely hear it, it feels distant, like background noise, like a TV in another room. All you can think is that this is your job. There’s nothing extraordinary about it. You did it because you had to, because it was either that or let a man drown.

Your father's hand is still on your shoulder.

"That’s my boy!" he says. You just nod, pretending to accept everything that’s happening.

But you look at the sand. Look at the sea. The sky. Anything but the faces, anything but the eyes of the people watching you. Because deep down, you know there’s no heroism in this. Just the inevitability of duty.

The man on the sand looks at you with eyes full of gratitude, but you just turn away, not wanting to feel the connection, the responsibility he seems to place on you with that look. Your father says something else, but you barely hear it, already starting to move away from the scene, feeling the weight of what you just did dissolve amidst the unwanted attention.

And then you walk away. The noise of the beach, the applause, all of it fading as you head toward the tower, trying to leave it all behind, but knowing that, somehow, the weight of it is still there, even if you pretend it’s not.

—

You're sitting on the steps of the lifeguard tower, and the sunset is the kind of show that nobody pays to see, but everyone stops to watch. Seagulls circle above you like little white demons, the waves crash against the sand with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic sound, and you feel the salty breeze cooling the skin that’s been under the sun all day. The air carries the scent of salt, of the sea, of a day that's dying.

You hear footsteps in the sand. Slow, as if each grain were an obstacle. And then you see her. The long dress floats around her legs, the wind playing with the fabric. The Polaroid camera hangs on her shoulder, as if it’s part of her. Something about her seems out of place, as if she’s stepped out of a different time and is now trying to fit into the present.

She stops a few steps away from you, her eyes scanning the horizon before they land on your face.

"Could you take a picture of me?" Her voice is soft but firm, like someone who’s used to getting what she wants without needing to ask twice.

You stand up, somewhat embarrassed that you didn’t realize you were sitting until now.

"Sure." You take the camera, and she positions herself so the lens can capture her alongside the vastness of the sea. She doesn't smile for the photo. It’s as if she's lost in some thought that the sun is trying to steal from her.

The flash pops, and the photo starts to materialize, the outlines emerging slowly as if painted by hand. She takes the image, studying it for a moment before smiling slightly, satisfied.

"Thank you," she says.

You can’t help but think of how beautiful she is. Not the plastic, symmetrical beauty of a magazine, but something rawer, more real. Her face has that shape you only see in classic paintings. Large, dark eyes, as if they want to see more of the world than it’s willing to show. Porcelain skin, long dark hair that catches the golden light of the setting sun.

"You're a tourist, aren't you?" you ask, more to fill the silence than out of curiosity.

"I am," she replies, without taking her eyes off the photo. "Just passing through. I leave on Monday."

It's Friday by the way.

"Ah, that's a shame," you say, and realize you sounded sadder than you intended. "Is it your first time here?"

She finally looks at you, and her gaze is something you didn’t expect. Like she's studying you, trying to understand something even you don’t grasp.

"Yes," she says after a pause. "And you? Do you spend your days here, saving lives?"

You shrug.

"More or less. It's my job."

She tilts her head slightly, her hair falling over one shoulder.

"You didn’t seem too happy when you saved that man today."

"I was just doing my job," you repeat, as if that could end the conversation.

But she doesn’t let it go.

"Is that all? I’d imagine saving someone would be something worth celebrating."

You hesitate, your eyes searching for something to focus on that isn’t her.

"It’s not like that. My dad runs everything here. He kind of pushed me into it."

She’s silent for a moment, as if processing what you said. Then, with a slight smile, she asks:

"And why don’t you want to be a lifeguard? Any guy would love to have a dad who's, like, ripped and cool, making a living on the beach, being treated like a hero."

You let out a small laugh, but it comes out more bitter than you intended.

"It's not just that. I wanted to play football instead of being a lifeguard."

She takes a step closer, curiosity growing in her eyes.

"Football? What do you mean? You wanted to be a professional player?"

"That was the plan," you admit. "But life happened. And here I am."

She nods, as if she understands perfectly.

"It’s funny how things don’t always go the way we plan, right?"

You agree. The sun is almost completely gone, and the colors in the sky fade, as if they’re tired of shining so brightly.

"Do you always travel alone?" you ask, trying to steer the conversation to something less personal.

She smiles, but this time it’s more challenging.

"And why not? I like discovering the world on my own. With no one to get in the way. Can’t a woman do that?"

"I think it’s admirable," you say, and you mean it. Something about the way she talks, like she’s always two steps ahead, makes you want to know more.

"I study philosophy," she reveals. "I’m on vacation, trying to see as much as I can before reality pulls me back."

Philosophy. Of course. You should have guessed.

"That explains a lot," you say, smiling for the first time in a while—long enough that you didn’t even realize you hadn’t been smiling.

She smiles back, and for the first time, it feels like she’s really here, in the present, with you.

"And you? Are you going to tell me more about yourself, or leave me to imagine?"

"Maybe I’ll tell you more if you come with me later. I’m going for a walk along the boardwalk. If you want company, we can meet near the broken statue at seven."

She pretends to think for a moment, but the smile on her face already gives the answer.

"Maybe I will. Who knows?"

You both fall silent for a moment, listening to the waves, the seagulls, the sound of the world turning. And then, with one last glance, she walks away, leaving you with a sunset that’s already turned to night.

A night that promises to bring something more than just stars.

—

You're sitting on the bench, waiting. People walk along the boardwalk, laughing, chatting, living their lives as if you weren't there, alone. Every passing minute, every step you hear that isn't hers, feels like the whisper of a tiny little devil saying that maybe you got it all wrong.

Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she remembered something more important. Maybe you're not as interesting as you think. You start calculating how long it's acceptable to wait before getting up and leaving without seeming desperate.

Then you feel the touch. It's light, almost as if a breeze had turned solid for a second. You turn your head, and there she is. Shuhua. As if she had been materialized by your thoughts. Her dress, now shorter, clings to her body with the same ease that night clings to the sky. Her dark hair shines under the streetlights, and for a second, you forget how to breathe.

"You look beautiful," you say, because nothing else makes sense in that moment.

She smiles, as if she already knew, but still likes to hear it.

"Thank you."

You begin to walk side by side, the sound of the waves in the distance sometimes pulling you back to the moment of the rescue again, though you don't show it.

"What's it like studying philosophy?" you ask, because the silence between you seems fuller than any conversation. And because you want to know more about what makes her who she is.

She looks around for a second, as if someone passing by might hand her the answer.

"It's like trying to understand life as it happens. Like you're a spectator in your own movie."

"Then say something philosophical," you ask, half-joking, but half-hoping she'll reveal something that will change the way you see the world.

She stops for a second, and you think maybe you've asked too much. But then she smiles, a smile that doesn't quite light up her whole face, but brings a small light to the night.

"All we know is that we know nothing."

"That's Socrates, right?"

"That's right."

"Oh, come on. You can do better than that."

"So, what do you want to know, Mr. Deep?"

You keep walking along the boardwalk, your steps slow, almost synchronized.

"Do you believe we're really free to do whatever we want?" The question comes out of you before you have time to filter it.

"Nietzsche said that desire is what drives us. It's not just a choice; it's what we are, what makes us act. But the problem is that desire is never simple, never pure. It always comes with a shadow. And that shadow is guilt."

She turns her face to you, a slight smile on her lips, but it's a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, and she continues:

"We can do whatever we want, yes. But do we really want to? Or does desire just push us toward what's inevitable, toward what we try to resist but deep down know we'll end up giving in to?"

You try to process what she's saying, but it's like trying to catch smoke with your hands. It feels like her words carry more weight than the moment.

"So, desire always comes with guilt?" you ask, trying to sound more curious than worried.

"It's not guilt that accompanies desire," she says, her eyes returning to the path ahead. "It's that desire makes us go against what we should be, what we've been told we should be. And then guilt arises, not because we've done something wrong, but because we desire what we've been taught to reject." She lets out a small laugh, but it's a dry sound, without joy. "Deep down, desire is a rebellion against morality. And every time we give in to it, we're challenging the world, the rules, what's right and wrong. But no one comes out of a challenge unscathed. There are always consequences."

"And you? Do you feel guilty about anything?" you ask before you wonder if maybe it's too much, but you don't regret it. You want to know who she is, to understand what's going on behind that face that seems so impenetrable.

She's silent again, and for a moment, you think she won't answer. But then she looks directly at you, her eyes dark and deep like the sea at night.

"Guilt? Of course. But guilt... guilt is proof that we're still alive. That it still matters, that we're still human." She smiles, but it's a sad smile. "I feel guilty because I desire what I shouldn't. Because deep down, I know I'm going against something bigger than myself. And it destroys me a little more each day."

And you realize, at that moment, that Shuhua is talking more about herself than any philosophy. That what she's saying isn't just theory, as real as the ground beneath your feet.

When you pass by a street artist, he observes you for a second, the pencil twirling between his fingers as if looking for his next masterpiece.

"You make a beautiful couple," he says, his tone casual, as if he already knew he was right. "How about a drawing of you two?"

You open your mouth to correct him, to say that no, you aren't a couple, but Shuhua is already agreeing.

"Sure," she says, pulling you to sit next to her on the bench.

The artist smiles, as if he knew the battle was won before it even began. He starts drawing, the pencil moving with the precision that only excessive practice can provide. You try to stay still, but you can't stop looking at Shuhua. The way she's relaxed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. Her scent, a soft perfume, mixes with the breeze entering your lungs, and it's an addictive sensation.

Time passes, but you don't notice. Only the sound of the pencil scratching the paper, the distant waves, and her scent.

Finally, the artist stops, gives the drawing a final touch, and turns it to show you both. The paper reveals the two of you sitting together, but there's something more there. Something the artist captured, something you hadn't noticed until now. He drew you looking at Shuhua with an expression you didn't know you were making. Admiration. Fascination. As if she were something more than just a girl.

As if she were a muse, and you, an artist trapped in her beauty.

"You, my friend, look at her like you're trying to decipher a mystery," the artist says, handing you the paper.

Shuhua takes the drawing, and you pay the artist, still feeling that strange weight in your chest, as if something important had been revealed without your permission. You both stand up, thank him, and continue walking.

She looks at the drawing again, a subtle smile on her lips.

"I like it," she says, and you realize she's not just talking about the drawing.

The sound of the sea never stops, not for a second. It's always there, in the background, a constant reminder that you're close to something bigger, vaster than anything you can do or feel. The waves break, one after another, like the sound of a clock ticking in a time that no one can control.

The kiosk appears ahead, with its yellow lights that seem to blend with the color of the night sky. The tables are scattered around, some already occupied by couples and small groups chatting in low tones, laughing about something only they know. You choose an empty table, away from the others.

The waiter approaches, young and cheerful, wearing a casual floral shirt. He hands you the menu and disappears, leaving you alone. Shuhua flips through the menu as if she's looking for something she already knows she wants, but still enjoys seeing the options. You choose something simple, a random drink that won't make you seem out of your element.

"Do you always hit on tourist girls?" The question comes from her naturally. But there's something more there, a curiosity she's trying to hide, but you notice immediately.

You smile, one of those smiles that's hard to decipher.

"No."

She raises an eyebrow, as if not entirely convinced.

"Then why did you call me? The beach is full of girls much hotter than me, with tanned bodies and everything."

The waiter returns with the drinks, placing them on the table skillfully. Shuhua takes hers and sips, her eyes still fixed on you, waiting for an answer that makes sense in the world she knows.

"Because I don't care about that," you finally say. The drink is cold in your hand, and the taste is strong, but you don't look away. "It's been a while since I went out with any girl. The thing is, you're different, Shuhua, you caught my attention."

She pauses, the glass halfway between the table and her lips, as if waiting for you to say something more. But you don't. Because there's nothing more to say. And, for some reason, that seems to be enough for her.

Shuhua puts the glass back on the table but doesn't drink. She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she's trying to see something beyond what's in front of her.

"You know," she says, "that almost sounds true."

You shrug, as if it wasn't a big deal, but you feel like something has changed in the air between you. As if the conversation had entered another territory, something deeper, closer to what really matters.

"Think what you want," you say, pretending not to care.

"Are you messing with me?" she asks, but now her tone is different. Lighter, almost playful.

"No," you reply, sincerely. And that's enough for her to believe you, at least for now.

You continue talking, about trivial things, about life, about what it’s like to study philosophy and what it means to work in something that isn’t your passion. But with every word, with every exchange of glances, you feel like you’re diving deeper, sinking into something more than just a night by the sea.

And her? She seems to relax, seems to accept what you’re offering, even though she’s still not sure exactly what that is. But there’s a sparkle in her eyes, a spark of interest that wasn’t there before. And that’s enough for you to keep going.

The waiter comes back to see if you two need anything else, but you don’t. Everything you want is there, on the table between you, in the air circulating around, in the words being spoken and those yet to come.

—

The boardwalk stretches out casually, Shuhua always by your side, her steps in sync with yours, as if you’ve done this many times before. But it’s the first time, and you’re still trying to figure out exactly what it means. The streets around are relatively quiet for a Friday night, with the distant murmur of other conversations floating in the air, but none of that matters much because, at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

“There’s a nice restaurant nearby, what do you think?” you ask her.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Shuhua replies. “Tell me the truth, were you nervous when you had to save that man?” she suddenly asks, curious to uncover what’s behind the tough lifeguard façade.

You glance at her sideways, a small smile on your lips as you respond.

“Actually, I was waiting for it. Patiently.”

She seems surprised by the answer, as if she expected something more heroic, something more dramatic. But the truth is much simpler.

“Since I completed training, I’ve never allowed myself to relax. I knew that, sooner or later, something like that would happen. It was just a matter of time.”

Shuhua lets out a small laugh, a soft, light sound, and shakes her head.

“That explains why you always seem so tense. I can see the tension in your shoulders.”

You raise an eyebrow, and there’s a playful note in your voice when you reply.

“Maybe if you gave me a massage, I’d feel better.”

“Maybe I will,” she says, and you know that part of her is really considering the idea.

The boardwalk unfolds ahead, a paved path that leads to anywhere you both decide to go. But before you can reach the restaurant you mentioned, something different catches your attention. A soft melody floats through the air, a mix of guitar, saxophone, and that unmistakable bossa nova beat. The kind of sound that makes you stop and listen, that reminds you there’s beauty in the world, even in the simplest things.

“Did you hear that?” you ask, but you don’t wait for an answer. Instead, you follow the sound, taking Shuhua with you until you find the source: a small band set up in the middle of the boardwalk, with simple instruments and an energy that doesn’t need a big audience to thrive.

And that’s when you do something that maybe even you didn’t expect. Pulling Shuhua by the hand, you lead her to the center of a small clearing among the people, a space that seems tailor-made for what you’re about to do next.

“You said I seemed tense,” you say, looking directly at her, a spark of challenge in your eyes. “Let’s see if I’m really that tense.”

And then you start dancing.

It’s nothing elaborate, nothing you need to think too much about. Just you, Shuhua, and the music. Your bodies move together as if there’s an invisible choreography that you both know but have never practiced. The rhythm of the bossa nova is smooth, easy to follow.

Shuhua watches you, her eyes shining with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“You dance well,” she says, and there’s a tone of genuine amazement in her voice.

“I did theater in school,” you reply, spinning her gently, as if proving there’s still more for her to discover about you. “I was in a few musicals. Nothing major.”

She laughs, her head tilted back, her hair falling like a black cascade that seems to absorb the light around. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

“I’m a guy full of surprises,” you say, and you know it’s a little true.

The music continues, and you keep dancing, lost in this moment that belongs only to you two. Every move, every step seems to free her a little more.

When the music finally ends, you and Shuhua stop, a bit out of breath but with smiles on your faces that don’t need any explanation. The small crowd around you applauds softly, and the band moves on to another song, but for the two of you, this moment has passed, it has fulfilled its purpose.

“Shall we go to the restaurant?” you ask, and she agrees, still smiling.

—

The restaurant is a hidden gem, the kind of place you only find if you know exactly what you’re looking for. It's near the boardwalk, just a few steps from the beach, where the sound of the waves mixed with live music creates an atmosphere that makes everything feel lighter, simpler. The tables are made of worn wood, coated with a thin layer of varnish that doesn’t hide the years of use but instead gives each one a kind of rustic charm. The chairs match, creaking slightly every time someone sits down, but no one seems to mind. Everyone is here for the same reason: good food, a fresh breeze, and a night that doesn’t seem in any hurry to end.

The outdoor tables are filled with couples, friends, and tourists who stumbled upon this place by chance. The lights strung between the posts sway gently, bathing everything in a golden glow that makes people’s skin look warmer, more alive. In the center of the restaurant, there's an outdoor grill, where the chef, a robust man with agile hands, flips fish and seafood over the flames with enviable skill.

You and Shuhua choose a table in the corner, close enough to the grill to feel the warmth but far enough that the smell of smoke doesn’t overwhelm anyone. She looks around, taking it all in as if she's absorbing the details to store them in her memory, and you realize that she does this with everything—every moment, every detail is important to her, which only heightens the sense that she’s just passing through.

The waiter, a middle-aged man with an easy smile, brings the menu, and you order without much ceremony: grilled fish, shrimp seasoned with garlic and herbs, and a white wine to go with it. The conversation flows naturally, filled with laughter and glances that last a second longer than necessary. The food is good, simple, and flavorful—the kind of meal that satisfies without pretense.

As dinner progresses, you can’t help but notice how completely comfortable Shuhua seems in her own skin, how she has a keen awareness of who she is and what she wants. She talks about her philosophy studies with a passion that makes even the most abstract concepts feel tangible, real. And as you listen to her, a part of you feels increasingly drawn not just to her obvious beauty but to the depth she reveals with every sentence, every gesture.

At one point, between a sip of wine and a bite of fish, you lean in a little closer, taking advantage of the intimate atmosphere to ask what’s been on your mind since the beginning of the night.

“When you go back home... can we keep in touch? I mean, you could give me your Instagram or something. You’re a cool, interesting girl. I’d like to get to know you better.”

There’s a second of silence, an almost imperceptible pause before Shuhua responds. She carefully places her fork on the plate, and when she looks at you, there’s a softness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. But there’s also something else, something you didn’t expect.

“You’re sweet,” she says, her voice almost too gentle—the kind of voice you use when you’re about to let someone down. “And you seem like the type who does everything for the girl you like. But... I don’t want you to get any feelings, whatever we are right now. This is casual, you know? I just want to make that clear so you don’t get hurt later.”

Her words fall on you like an unexpected weight, crushing the small hope that had been growing inside you since the moment she asked you to take her picture on the beach. You remain silent for a moment, trying to process what she said, trying to mask the disappointment that inevitably begins to set in.

“I understand,” you finally say, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, a hollow smile that you hope isn’t as transparent as it feels to you. “Of course. No problem.”

The conversation continues, but there’s a subtle shift in tone, a new layer of distance. You make a conscious effort to keep things light, to not let on that her words affected you more than you’d like to admit. Shuhua, for her part, seems relieved to have laid everything out in the open, and she returns to being the same bright, spontaneous girl she was before, as if what she just said didn’t matter in the slightest.

Apparently.

Dinner finally ends, and as you wait for the bill, Shuhua mentions that she’s staying at a nearby inn. You consider her words for a moment, knowing this is a fork in the road, that whatever you decide next will determine the course of the night.

“My place isn’t far from here,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual. “If you want, you can stay over.”

She looks at you, her eyes shining under the restaurant's soft lights, and for a moment, you think she’s going to refuse. But then she smiles, a small, pleasant smile that seems like it might vanish at any moment.

“Sure,” she replies. “Let’s go.”

And with that, the night’s fate is sealed. You pay the bill, leave a generous tip, and together, you walk out of the restaurant, back to the boardwalk, which now feels even more deserted, more silent. It’s getting late, and the streets are emptying out, except for a few passersby who are in no hurry to get anywhere, and the sea breeze feels a bit cooler, carrying with it the scent of salt and something else, something indefinable that mingles with the excitement and nervousness growing inside you.

The walk to your place is short, and as you walk side by side, not saying much, you can’t help but wonder what exactly will happen when you finally get there. But at the same time, you know that’s a question that can only be answered when the door closes behind you, when words are no longer necessary.

—

Your home is modest but cozy—the kind of place that reflects the lifestyle of someone who spends more time outdoors than within four walls. Shuhua places the drawing of the two of you on the counter, says it’s all yours, and casually begins to observe the surroundings. The walls are a soft beige, and the floor is covered with a simple carpet. The living room is dominated by a comfortable sofa, a TV that seems barely used, and a similarly untouched video game console. There isn’t much in terms of decoration, but there’s a certain order to the chaos, as if everything has its place. A guitar resting in a corner and some posters of classic bands hint at personal tastes that go beyond the lifeguard job.

You offer her wine, a bottle of red that you’d been saving for a special occasion.

You pour the drink, trying to appear calm, but your movements are deliberately slow, as if prolonging something that shouldn’t be prolonged. Shuhua sits on the sofa, her legs gracefully crossed, the dress revealing a bit more of her pale thighs as she adjusts herself. She accepts the glass of wine, but her gaze is firm, determined.

She’s not here for the details of your decor, to watch that new Netflix series, or to talk about the idiotic lives of celebrities; she’s here for you.

"If we're going to do this, let’s do it now," she says after taking a sip of the wine, placing the glass on the coffee table. Her voice is almost a whisper, but it carries a calculated firmness. "Let's not prolong the formalities."

The sound of her voice resonates within you, making your heart race.

"I wasn’t sure you wanted the same thing as me..."

You approach her, setting your glass aside as well, your hands trembling slightly, but it’s desire that guides every movement.

Shuhua doesn’t wait. She leans forward, capturing your lips with hers, a kiss that starts soft but quickly intensifies. Her lips are soft, but there’s an urgency in the way she moves her tongue, exploring every corner of your mouth. Her small, delicate hands slide to the buttons of your shirt, undoing them with impressive dexterity.

She climbs onto your lap, your bodies touching only through the thin fabric of your clothes. The heat that emanates is good, it’s alive, but you want more. Your hands trace the outline of her hips, sliding down to her thighs, pulling her closer. Her response is immediate: a sigh, a small moan that escapes her lips as she presses her body against yours.

Shuhua pulls back slightly, just enough to remove your shirt and toss it aside. Her eyes travel over your body, admiring what she sees.

"You’re really hot," she murmurs. Her fingers trace invisible lines on your skin, exploring every muscle. "I’ve never fucked a lifeguard before."

“Well, I’ve never fucked a philosophy student,” you say. Your hands slide down her back to her waist, where you hold her firmly, pulling her even closer. The fabric of her dress is an obstacle you want to remove, but there’s something about prolonging this moment, savoring every touch.

The kisses continue for a while longer, until, without warning, she slides off your lap and kneels on the floor in front of you, her hands reaching for your pants, fingers swiftly unbuttoning the zipper with a speed that catches you off guard. She pulls your pants and underwear down, freeing your hard cock. You somehow feel vulnerable as Shuhua wraps her hand around the base of your cock, her eyes never leaving yours, a gaze that’s both intimidating and full of desire. With a decisive move, she leans in, taking your cock into her mouth.

The warmth and wetness are familiar, but there’s a newness to it—you’ve never felt a mouth so small, lips so soft, and a tongue so skilled sucking you off before. She turns a simple blowjob into something divine. You moan, your head falling back, fingers tangling in her hair as she continues to work you. Every movement of her tongue is calculated, teasing. She uses slow and fast sucks to give you pleasure. The pressure in your body builds, pleasure taking over your mind.

You want to fuck her.

But Shuhua doesn’t stop. She quickens her pace, the moans escaping her throat as she dedicates herself to the task with a commitment that nearly destroys you. When you feel like you’re on the verge of losing control, you pull her up, panting, and place her back on the sofa. She smiles, satisfied, as if she had been expecting this exact reaction.

Now it’s your turn to worship her with your tongue. You remove your shoes and fully take off the pants that were hanging below your knees. You pull up her dress slightly, and that’s when you realize she wasn’t wearing any panties. The shock of this revelation only intensifies your desire. She’s completely exposed to you, her skin smooth and warm under your hands. You kiss her again, with more hunger, your fingers exploring the wetness between her legs. Shuhua writhes under your touch, small moans escaping her lips as you stimulate her.

"I'm getting so wet," she whispers, her voice trembling with pleasure. There’s a mischievous glint in your eyes; you’re not willing to stop. You make her kneel on the sofa, turning her back to you. Shuhua pulls her dress up to her waist to reveal her perfectly round, juicy ass, practically begging for you to eat her pussy. You position yourself behind her, lowering your body, your mouth now replacing your fingers, exploring her with even more curiosity. Your tongue slides along her pussy.

Shuhua's moans grow louder, more intense, as her hands grip the back of the sofa tightly. When you sense she’s on the verge of exploding, you pull back, watching her with a desire to make her feel even more pleasure.

Then, without warning, she stands up, pulling the dress over her head and tossing it to the floor. She’s completely naked before you, and the desire burns even stronger in your chest. You sit on the sofa, and she climbs onto your lap, guiding your cock inside her with an ease that makes you sigh.

Her warmth envelops you completely. She lets out a small moan, closing her eyes for a moment, absorbing every inch as she settles. Her hands rest on your shoulders, nails lightly digging into your skin as she begins to move.

She starts at a slow pace, almost as if savoring the sensation, but soon she picks up speed, her body moving with a determination that leaves you breathless. Her tits sway gently with each movement, and you can’t resist the temptation to wrap one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking intensely. Shuhua lets out a louder moan, tilting her head back.

"You like this, don’t you? You like it when I ride your cock," she murmurs, her voice melting with the pleasure she feels. She smiles provocatively, her eyes locked on yours as she continues to move at a rhythm that drives you crazier by the second.

"Yeah, a lot," you respond through gritted teeth, your hands gripping her hips tightly, helping her maintain the rhythm. The feeling of being inside her, warm and wet, makes you crave more, much more.

Shuhua leans forward, her lips almost touching yours, her breath hot and quick against your mouth.

"Then fuck me harder," she whispers, the provocation in her voice as clear as day.

The urgency in her words awakens something wild inside you. Your fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her into a fierce kiss. In response, she rides you faster, moaning against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as you increase the pace. Your hands move to her ass, squeezing and urging Shuhua to ride with even more intensity.

The pleasure makes your head spin, the room around you seeming to disappear, leaving only the sound of your bodies colliding, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

"Just like that," she moans. "Fuck me hard! Don’t stop, don’t stop."

The pleasure is overwhelming, guiding you to a speed that makes every touch feel more intense than it should. Shuhua writhes on top of you, sweat dripping down her skin as she gives in completely to the sensation. Her face is flushed, her eyes half-closed, and she bites her lower lip, trying to stifle the moans that escape her lips, but failing at the task.

"You’re going to make me come," she whispers, the words broken up by moans. Her gaze is a mix of lust and vulnerability, as if she’s at the mercy of the pleasure you’re giving her.

"Then cum for me," you respond, your voice low and laden with desire. Your hands grip her hips firmly. "Cum on my cock, babe!"

Shuhua responds to the command, her movements becoming erratic as the climax nears. She lets out a scream, her whole body trembling as pleasure overtakes her, and you feel the contractions around you, each pulse intensifying the pleasure already consuming you.

"Oh, God..." She gasps, her nails scratching your shoulders as her body writhes on yours. She’s completely lost in the moment, her face a mask of ecstasy as she continues to move, prolonging the pleasure as much as she can.

When it finally seems like she can’t take any more, Shuhua stops, panting, her eyes shining with satisfaction as she gazes at you.

"You made me cum so hard," she murmurs, a lascivious smile playing on her lips.

You smile back and reply:

"But I’m not done with you yet."

Before she has a chance to fully recover, you firmly grab her by the hips and lift her into the air, your bodies still connected.

Shuhua lets out a surprised gasp, her arms wrapping around your neck as you lift her. Her legs tighten around your waist, her fingers digging into your back as she feels you moving inside her again. The sensation is deeper in this position, each thrust pushing you further inside, making her moan loudly in your ear. Your bodies are pressed together, your sweat mingling as you fuck her in the air, your movements decisive and full of desire.

"Oh, yes... like that!" she moans, her voice trembling with pleasure. You can feel how intense the sensation is for her, the way her body clenches around yours, responding to every thrust. "Fuck, you're so hot!"

Each movement is stronger than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room, mingling with Shuhua's moans and sighs.

You keep her in the air, her legs around your waist, as you quicken the pace, your thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. Each movement intensifies the sensation in your body. Shuhua is completely lost in the moment, her face buried in your neck, her moans muffled but impossible to contain. She bites lightly into your shoulder, a mix of pain and pleasure that makes you gasp heavily, feeling her tremble as she cums again, her contractions increasing the pressure around you.

But you don't stop. Even when you feel her body trembling, her breath hot against your skin, you carry her to the table, driven by desire. With a firm movement, you set her down on the ground, still holding her by the hips as she leans against the table. Shuhua arches her back, and without much delay, you start fucking her again, the new position making her let out a deep moan, pleasure once again taking over her.

"I'm not stopping until you cum again," you murmur in her ear, your voice deep and filled with desire.

"Yes! Make me cum again! Mmm, so good," she responds, her voice completely surrendered, almost pleading. Shuhua places her hands on the table, her body leaning forward as you take her from behind. The sight of her in this position, completely exposed and vulnerable, makes your desire explode.

Shuhua moans loudly, her head falling forward as you fuck her hard, the table creaking under the intensity. Each thrust is powerful. She holds onto the table tightly, her moans turning into screams as the pleasure builds.

When you feel she's about to cum again, you turn her to face you. Shuhua smiles, panting, her eyes shining. She climbs onto the table, lying on her back, her legs spreading for you in a sight that almost makes you want to eat her pussy again.

She exposes herself completely, offering herself to you.

"Come on, fuck me until I can't take it anymore!" she says, her voice low and dripping with lust.

You position yourself between her legs, feeling the heat and wetness of her pussy already dripping down her thighs, then you start penetrating her again. Shuhua cries out, her moans reverberating through the room as you fuck her hard. The table shakes under your combined weight, the intense sounds of pleasure filling the air.

You fuck her with everything you've got, each thrust more intense than the last, the pleasure building to a point of no return. The rhythm between you becomes more frantic, desperate, until you bring her to another orgasm. Shuhua is completely lost in the sensation, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a cry of pleasure. The heat of her body, the feeling of her sweaty skin against yours, the sound of her moans—it all drives you wild.

Your hand slides down to Shuhua's belly, feeling her tense muscles, and you realize you're on the brink of exploding.

"I'm gonna cum," you warn, your voice cut off by the effort to stay in control. But Shuhua doesn't want you to hold back.

"Then cum," she responds. "Cum in me, I want to feel you."

Those words are what make you lose control. You let out a deep moan, your whole body trembling as you finally give in to the climax. With one last deep thrust, you bury yourself inside her, and then, with a quick motion, you pull out, jerking off as the pleasure overtakes you.

The first spurt of cum covers Shuhua's belly, hot and thick, spreading across her pale skin. She lets out a low moan at the feeling of the warmth on her skin, her eyes closed as she absorbs the sensation. You continue, each pulse sending more cum onto her, covering her abdomen, the base of her tits, until there's nothing left to give.

When the last spasm passes, you hold the base of your cock, feeling it pulse lightly, still sensitive. Shuhua opens her eyes, watching you with a provocative smile.

"Is there still more in there?" she asks, her voice soft but full of mischief.

You smile, tired but not done.

"Maybe a little more," you reply, leaning down to rub the head of your cock on her thigh, spreading the remaining cum on her soft skin. The sensation is electric, a mix of pleasure and sensitivity that makes you shiver.

Shuhua watches every movement, biting her lip as you spread the cum on her thigh, mingling with the sweat that glistens under the soft light of the room.

"Yes, paint me all over," she whispers, her voice low and filled with desire. "It's so delicious to feel you like this, hot, still turned on by me."

She reaches out, her fingers gently caressing the head of your cock, still sensitive, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

"I could do this all day," she murmurs, her tone a blend of sweetness and malice. "I love seeing how you react to my touch, how you moan helplessly with every caress."

You can't help but close your eyes and sigh as she presses gently, her thumb grazing the frenulum as you continue to rub the head of your cock on her skin.

"Don't stop," you plead, your voice hoarse, almost desperate. Her touch is both torturous and pleasurable, a mix that makes you crave more, even after you've been spent.

Shuhua smiles, satisfied with your reaction, and continues, teasing you until every part of your body is trembling with the intensity of the moment. Finally, she stops, her fingers still sliding softly across your skin, and she looks at you with a gaze that weakens you before her.

"It's been a long time since I fucked someone with this much passion," she comments, her voice soft and filled with complicity. "You really wanted me, didn't you?"

—

You wake up to the barely perceptible sound of her footsteps on the wooden floor, the sun seeping through the half-closed curtains, filling the room with a soft, golden light. The warmth of her body still lingers in the bed, her presence imprinted on the rumpled sheets and on the pillow where her scent has mixed with yours. You’re not sure exactly what woke you—maybe it was the sound of her breathing, or the slow movement of her bare feet, trying to avoid the spots where the floor creaks. Maybe it was the absence of her body’s weight beside you.

She’s there, at the edge of the bed, wearing one of your shirts thrown over her body, long enough to cover halfway down her thighs. She’s not really trying to escape, not truly. But there’s a carefulness in her every movement, a hesitation that screams of an attempt to slip away without making a sound. She’s leaving, and you feel a pang of fear, something you didn’t want to feel, something you didn’t expect.

You watch her for a moment, her loose hair falling in waves undone by nights of sleep, the curve of her back outlined beneath the soft fabric of your shirt. She’s facing away from you, and you realize she hasn’t even noticed that you’re awake.

With minimal effort, you slide out of bed, your feet touching the cold floor as you quietly approach her from behind. And then, before she can react, before she can think of really fleeing, you wrap your arms around her, pulling her close, closer than you should, as if proximity could make her stay, as if your touch could be enough to anchor her there.

“Stay a little longer,” you murmur against her neck, your lips brushing the warm, soft skin as your hands glide over her waist, holding her with a need that doesn’t make sense to you. “Just a little longer.”

She flinches for a second, her body tense against yours, but then she relaxes, sighing as if exhaling all the resistance she had stored within herself. “I can’t,” she whispers, but her voice lacks conviction, as if she’s only saying it because it’s what she thinks she should say.

“Of course you can,” you insist, moving your hands to her shoulders, massaging gently, while your lips continue to explore her neck, the curve of her jaw, the spot where her skin is most sensitive. “Just a little longer, and then I’ll make breakfast. Like a good host.”

She lets out a soft chuckle as she leans back, surrendering to the warmth, to the moment, even if only for a fleeting instant.

“You know this isn’t right,” she murmurs, but her hands find yours, and she intertwines her fingers with yours, pulling you back to the bed.

“Maybe,” you admit, as you lie down together, her body curled up in your arms, her breath mingling with yours. “But who cares?”

She sighs again, as if giving up on fighting, and you stay there, lying together, exchanging gentle caresses, stolen kisses, and embraces that should mean less than they actually do. Her body fits perfectly against yours, and for a moment, everything feels right, everything feels exactly as it should be. But then she pulls away, just a little, enough to look you in the eyes, and there’s a seriousness in her gaze that you hadn’t noticed before.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she says, her voice firmer, more determined. “I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

You look at her, trying to understand what she’s saying, trying to decipher what’s behind those words.

“I won’t get hurt,” you respond, even though you know it’s not entirely true. “I just want you to stay.”

“And that’s what worries me,” she whispers, before getting out of bed again, the shirt still loosely draped over her body. “Come on, get up. I want coffee.”

You obey, even though part of you wants to drag her back to bed, keep her there, where everything seems simpler. But you get up, wearing only the sweatpants that were tossed beside the bed, and head to the kitchen to make breakfast. The smell of fresh coffee and toast fills the air as you fry some eggs and prepare slices of bread with butter and jam.

When you set the table, she’s already dressed in the dress from the night before, sitting at the table, watching you with a look that’s both curious and cautious. As if she’s trying to decide what to do with you, with what you two are—or aren’t.

“So,” you begin, as you sit down next to her, passing her a mug of coffee. “Tell me more about yourself. What do you do besides studying philosophy? Seriously, where are you from, anyway?”

She smiles, but it’s a fleeting smile, almost as if she’s trying to protect herself.

“It doesn’t matter where I’m from. And I don’t do much,” she responds, shrugging. “I travel when I can. I like to read. Sometimes I write.”

“Write?” you ask, intrigued. “What do you write?”

“Poetry, mostly,” she replies, but her tone is vague, as if she doesn’t want to delve into the subject.

You realize you won’t get much more out of her, so you change the topic, talking about light things, things of no importance. But you can’t shake the feeling that she’s keeping her distance, hiding something, and that only makes you want to know more.

“I want to see you later,” you say, almost without thinking, as you bring the coffee cup to your lips. “What do you think?”

She smiles again, but this time her smile is a bit more genuine.

“I’ll be the one to see you,” she responds, a sparkle in her eyes. “When I have time.”

That’s not what you wanted to hear, but before you can respond, she stands up, grabbing her bag and getting ready to leave. You follow her to the door, your heart racing, knowing you need to say something, anything.

“Shuhua,” you begin, hesitant. “I like you.”

She pauses, her hand on the doorknob, and turns to you, her eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and something you can’t quite identify. She shakes her head slightly, a small smile on her lips.

“I know,” she says softly. “But you’d better stop.”

And with that, she opens the door and leaves, leaving you alone in what’s left of a morning that should have been more than just another fleeting moment. And as you watch her walk away, a part of you knows she’s right, that maybe it’s better to stop. But another part, the part that still smells her on your sheets, that still tastes her on your lips, knows that you won’t be able to.

—

You’re sitting outside the lifeguard tower, on a wooden stool that always creaks a little, with the sun beating down on the sea and the beer cans stacked in a corner. Fourth? Fifth? Who’s really counting? The salt in the air, the heat. You’re relaxed, or at least you try to be. The sea foam dissolves into small waves, seagulls crying out as usual, and you almost forget everything. Almost. Until the sound of footsteps on the sand makes you open your eyes, and you see, like a ray of sun directly in your eyes, your father, arriving all beaming, that smile plastered on his face that you know well, almost a mask. But you know it’s real.

“Son, how many times do I have to tell you not to drink on the job?” he says, still smiling, but with a tone that can’t be ignored.

“I’m fine, I’m not drunk.” You respond, taking the can from your mouth and looking at him, defiant. You see the shadow of that smile fade a little, but he still keeps the sparkle in his eyes.

“If you have to do a rescue now, there’d be two drowned instead of one. That’s not what you were trained for, that’s not what your mother...”

He stops before finishing the sentence, as if the words dry up in his mouth. You look at him and feel that familiar discomfort. The pain that comes like an undertow, silent, but it pulls you down, without warning.

“I don’t care about drowning, honestly. Lifeguards are also at risk of drowning, you know. It’s just part of the job, I guess.” The words come out easier than you expected, but they hang in the air like cigarette smoke, hard to dissipate.

Your father looks at you, and the smile vanishes completely. He comes closer, crouching down to your eye level.

“What’s happening with you?”

You shake your head, trying to escape, but he keeps looking, with that piercing gaze. And then you give in, just a little.

“How do you do it? How do you stay like this, cheerful, even after she… left?”

He understands immediately, his expression softens, a little sad, but still firm.

“Because one day I’ll see her again.”

You look at him, unable to believe how easily he talks about it.

“And until then? How do you cope?”

“Until then, I look forward to that day.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and pulls you out of the cabin, the sun burning even more outside. He points to the pier, where the waves break gently, the sea calm, almost as if it’s waiting for something. “Your mother took me there one night, when we were young. She told me that if our souls were ever separated, we could meet again there, when the moon was full. Its light would make a silver bridge over the sea, and no matter where we were, we could reunite on that night.”

You stay silent, digesting every word, feeling the truth, heavy and luminous like the sun. That piece of history you never knew, a connection that was always there, but only now you can see. He looks at you again, a small smile at the corner of his lips.

“She never told me that.”

“There are many things we don’t know until we’re ready to know.” He gives your shoulder a light pat, something he’s always done to show he’s there, that he understands you.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel better. Just a little. But it’s enough to face the rest of the day.

—

You're walking along the boardwalk, with that killer sun reflecting off every piece of glass, metal, and tanned skin around. Your sunglasses cover more than just your eyes; they cover any trace of expression you don’t want to show. You pretend you’re just like everyone else, but every step, every movement is rehearsed, calculated to appear as relaxed as possible. The sea breeze carries the smell of salt and fried food, but you barely notice. Your vision is the only sense consciously operating, searching for one thing, or rather, one person.

And then, like a mirage in the desert, you see her. Shuhua, the girl of your thoughts. The wide-brimmed beach hat casting a shadow that draws half her face, her hair falling like a veil underneath. She’s smiling, waving, a vision amidst the chaos of half-naked bodies and hysterical laughter. You raise your hand to wave back, but then, right in the middle of it, the unexpected happens. A group of girls—bronzed bodies, bikinis too small, laughter too loud—bumps into you. They smile, toss their hair back, one of them even does that rehearsed laugh, like she’s in a summer commercial.

They start to circle you, flirting, their eyes lingering and hungry, their fingers almost touching your arms, your shoulders, inviting you to show them the beach in a way only you could.

“Hey, lifeguard, how about showing us where the best spot on the beach is?” one of them says, her voice full of insinuation.

You feel the heat rise, but it’s not the sun. It’s not the attraction you’d normally feel at another time. It’s not desire. It’s discomfort, the urgency to get away, to remove this obstacle. You look at Shuhua, see that she’s stopped, and for a second, just for a second, you think she’s going to turn around and leave. And that scares you more than the thought of having to redo lifeguard training.

“Sorry, girls, but I’m busy.” You spit the phrase out like you’re spitting sand from your mouth. A quick smile and you practically flee from the group, who giggle and make comments around you, but you no longer care.

You hurry toward Shuhua, and when you finally get close enough, she lets out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh.

“You seem to have a lot of fans around here,” she says, teasing, but with a tone that hides a hint of curiosity.

“They’re nothing, less than nothing,” you reply quickly, maybe too quickly. “I was looking for you.” And it’s not a lie. Not at all.

She smiles, her eyes narrowing under the hat, and for a moment, you think she really believes you.

“So, you found me. I was heading for lunch. Want to join me?”

As if she needed to ask.

“Sure,” you respond, with an enthusiasm even you don’t recognize.

As you walk to the restaurant, the tension in your shoulders that you always carry seems to dissolve a bit. Maybe it’s the sun, or the way she laughs at something you don’t even know. Maybe it’s just the fact that she’s here, beside you, and doesn’t seem to want to be anywhere else.

In the restaurant, the menu is simple, but who cares? Her eyes are on you, and you realize, for the first time, that she’s a bit smitten. In a way that makes your chest swell a bit because you know, without needing words, that she’s finding you interesting. Maybe more than she should.

“Do you have plans for later?” you ask, trying to sound casual as the food is placed on the table.

She looks up, that look that seems to pierce through you, but in a good way.

“Depends. What do you have in mind?”

You release the smile you’ve been holding back, the one you rarely use but know works.

“How about an ATV ride? At night. The beach is beautiful at night.”

She tilts her head, the hat almost falling, but it stays in place.

“Is that allowed?” she asks, but there’s a hint of mischief in her voice that says she knows the answer.

“No one needs to know.” Your answer is as quick as the beats of your heart.

She pretends to think, her eyes gleaming with a playful amusement you could almost touch.

“I think I can take the risk. Where and when?”

You already have the whole plan in your head. The meeting point, the path you’ll take. Everything is already planned.

“At nine, at the lifeguard station near the pier. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

She smiles, that smile that makes everything lighter, and you feel… complete.

“Then it’s a date.”

And just like that, with this simple nod from fate, you have the night planned. Something that calms the anxiety churning in your gut. Because this girl, this girl named Shuhua, she’s more than just a summer fling. Even if she never knows it. Even if you never say it. She’s the now, and for you, the now is all that matters.

—

Nine o'clock. The night breeze licks the beach, carrying the scent of salt, and the sound of the waves is the only thing grounding you to reality. The ATV is already waiting, and so are you. Adrenaline courses through your veins, mixed with a dose of anxiety. You wonder if she’ll show up. If tonight will be as good as you imagined a thousand times during the day.

And then, as if on cue, Shuhua appears on the horizon. The beach hat is left somewhere far away, her hair loose, blowing in the wind. She smiles in that way that illuminates even the darkest corners of your mind. She approaches with a confidence that makes the ground under your feet feel more solid, and you realize the wait was worth it.

“I hope this ATV is as fun as you promised,” she jokes, eyeing the sturdy machine like it’s a new toy.

“I promise you won’t regret it,” you say, helping her onto the ATV. She settles in behind you, her hands sliding around your waist until they find a comfortable position.

And then, without much thought, you accelerate.

The ATV surges forward across the sand, the wheels kicking up fine clouds that dissipate into the air. The engine roars, cutting through the night’s silence, and you feel Shuhua press against your back, an automatic reflex that makes your heart beat faster.

As the ATV picks up speed, the wind starts to whip across your faces, and Shuhua, without any warning, lets out a scream of pure joy. A sound that bursts into the night, echoing on the beach, and makes you smile uncontrollably. “Faster!” she shouts, her voice blending with the noise of the engine and the waves.

You obey, because, damn, how could you not? You push the throttle, feeling the ATV almost lift off the sand. The wind cuts across your face, almost painful, but it’s a pain you want to prolong. Shuhua keeps shouting, laughing with a freedom you can’t quite understand but desperately want to feel. And it’s as if, for a few minutes, the two of you are the only living beings in that slice of the world. Just you, the night, and the sea.

Eventually, you slow down because even freedom has its limits. Then you find a spot where the sand seems finer, almost white under the moonlight. You turn off the engine, and for a moment, everything returns to absolute silence. But it’s a good silence, for now, it’s good.

Shuhua climbs off the ATV, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She takes a few steps on the sand, looking around the beach. “Look,” she says, pointing to something on the ground. You move closer and see that they’re crabs, dozens of them, emerging from the sand and scattering across the beach like a small horde of creatures escaping from a nightmare. But there’s nothing threatening about it. Just nature in motion.

You both watch in silence for a while, each lost in your own thoughts, until you decide to break the silence.

“What did you do during the day?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

She hesitates, as if searching for the right answer.

“I went to the aquarium… and to a museum,” she finally responds, but something in the way she says it tells you there’s more she’s not revealing.

“Oh, cool,” you say, pretending not to notice. “There’s an institution nearby where kids learn to play instruments and make crafts. I thought about taking you there tomorrow. It’s amazing what they can do.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, but without the certainty you expected.

“We're talking about the last day,” you reply, and the sincerity in your voice makes her waver. You can see she’s considering it, weighing the options in her head.

She sighs, maybe accepting the inevitable.

“Okay, but only because it’s the last day,” she agrees, and you feel a small victory inside.

But before you can savor the moment, she changes the subject.

“I’m hungry. Take me somewhere that doesn’t serve seafood, please.”

You chuckle because, of course. Just because you’re at the beach doesn’t mean you have to eat seafood until you’re sick of it.

“How about pizza? There’s a pizzeria close by.”

“Hmm, great choice.”

And then, without further words, you help her back onto the ATV, and you head toward the city. The engine rumbles, the waves keep crashing on the beach, and you realize that, for a brief moment, everything feels right.

—

The pizzeria is one of those places that seems to have been founded alongside the city. The kind of place where the floor tiles have decades of history from people coming and going, dragging their feet without caring about what they leave behind. The walls are covered with black-and-white photos from old times, local landmarks, and some faded images of retired football players. Soft yellow lights, encased in rusty metal lamps, cast a tired glow over the wooden tables, where checkered tablecloths are worn from use.

The smell is a mix of melted cheese, tomato sauce, and something you can only describe as nostalgia. An old jukebox in the corner plays a melody no one is really listening to, but that somehow completes the scene. Shuhua chooses a table near the window, maybe to look outside, maybe to avoid having to look directly into your eyes. You're not sure. But it doesn’t matter either.

You order a pepperoni pizza because it’s the safest choice, and she agrees. While you wait, the waiter, who’s probably been there since the place opened, brings two beers without even asking. He must know it’s the only thing worth drinking here.

Shuhua fiddles with the rim of the bottle, her long, slender fingers sliding over the cold glass surface. There’s a nervousness in her movements, but you’re not sure if it’s because of you or because she’s with you.

You decide to break the tension… and ask what's been on your mind since morning.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Your voice sounds more normal than you expected.

She looks at you, confused.

“What do you mean?”

You take a sip of the beer, trying to appear relaxed.

“You and your boyfriend. How long have you been together?”

She hesitates, her eyes flickering from side to side as if searching for an invisible escape. Then, something changes. She gives up the lie she was about to tell.

“How did you find out?”

You lean forward, feeling the weight of the moment.

“I’m not stupid, Shuhua. It’s the only explanation for the way you’re acting. When we’re together, sometimes you look around as if you’re expecting someone to see you. That’s not paranoia. It’s guilt.”

Shuhua smiles, but it’s a humorless smile, something forced.

“Besides being a hot lifeguard, you’re also perceptive.”

You don’t care about the compliment.

“How long have you been together?”

She sighs, as if tired of hiding something that shouldn’t even be hidden.

“Since high school.”

Her words fall heavy between you, like a revealed secret that should never have been shared. You feel a pang of something, maybe jealousy, maybe anger, but you don’t let it show.

“Do you love him?” The question comes out before you can think.

She looks directly into your eyes, defiant.

“What difference does it make?”

You don’t look away.

“Answer honestly.”

A bitter laugh escapes her, laced with irony.

“It doesn’t matter what I answer. You still want to fuck me tonight, don’t you?”

Her bluntness stings, but you stand your ground.

“Why isn’t he traveling with you?”

She looks out the window, maybe trying to remember something good about the boyfriend she left behind.

“He’s taking care of his mother. Post-surgery. She had a mastectomy. It’s not serious, she’s fine, but she needs assistance. He didn’t want me to cancel the trip just because of him.”

You nod, not really knowing what to say. Then, you take a chance on another question.

“Why are you doing this?”

She hesitates, as if struggling with something inside her, and doesn’t answer.

“When did you figure it out?”

You shrug.

“This morning, when you left my place. I spent the whole morning thinking about you, about the night and the conversation we had, and eventually, I realized.”

Shuhua seems to absorb this information, and then she asks you something you didn’t expect.

“What does that make me?” You don’t have a ready answer. But she continues. “Are you still as interested as before?”

You lean forward, your eyes fixed on hers.

“At this moment, nothing else matters. I’m yours.”

She lowers her gaze to the table, the tips of her fingers sliding along the wood.

“Am I bad for doing this? You must think I’m a dirty person.”

You take her hand.

“I don’t care. I just.. don’t care. Shuhua, I like you so much, and if you like me too, that’s enough.”

Silence falls between you. This time it’s heavy, full of things that corrode, but somehow relieved by at least being shared.

Shuhua looks at you, her eyes softening a little.

“Take me to your place.”

You nod, saying nothing more. The waiter brings the pizza, but the hunger has been replaced by something greater. The bill is paid, the exit is quick, and the night air of the beach greets you like a cold embrace.

You realize that what’s happening is something you’ll never fully understand. But for now, you let yourself believe that maybe tomorrow you’ll understand a little better. Because believing is better than nothing.

—

You both enter the house in a burst of desire, your bodies colliding as if drawn together by an irresistible force. The kisses are urgent, hungry, a battle of tongues and teeth that almost makes you forget to close the door. Hands slide everywhere, eliciting moans and gasps of pleasure as they desperately try to rid you of the remaining barriers of fabric between you. Her breath is hot against your face, and her scent—a mix of soft perfume and pure excitement—invades your senses, making your heart pound in your chest.

Wasting no time, you gently push her down to the floor, your lips still locked on hers but soon trailing off to explore her neck, jawline, every inch of exposed skin you can reach. The salty taste of her skin, mixed with the heat radiating from her body, only heightens your desire. You feel her squirm beneath you, her nails scratching your back through your shirt in a desperate gesture.

There’s a brief moment where you both separate just enough to remove the remaining clothes. The sound of fabric being torn off, the muffled moans as eager hands explore each other's bodies, all blend into a cacophony of desire. When you’re finally both naked, the sight of Shuhua lying there, breathless, her eyes half-closed with pleasure and anticipation, is enough to drive you wild.

She lies back again, spreading her legs, offering herself to you without hesitation. The sight of her pussy, wet and throbbing, makes your cock throb with anticipation. Without wasting time, you lower yourself, your hot breath against her sensitive skin, before sliding your tongue slowly between her pussy lips, savoring every drop of pleasure. The taste is intoxicating, something that makes you want more, much more.

Shuhua arches her back, pushing her pelvis against your mouth as her hands tangle in your hair, pulling hard, urging you to go deeper.

“This feels so good,” she moans, her voice thick with need, encouraging you to plunge your tongue even deeper, exploring every corner, every curve, alternating with kisses on the insides of her thighs where the skin is thin and sensitive. Shuhua's moans grow in intensity, her hips moving in a rhythm that tries to guide yours.

“Fuck me,” she begs, her voice interrupted by moans. “Now, please, fuck me.”

You kneel, your hands gripping her ankles firmly as you lift her, opening her completely for you. With a deep thrust, you enter her, and the moan of pleasure that escapes her lips echoes through the room. Shuhua’s warmth envelops you, every internal muscle contracting around you, pulling you deeper, harder. You don’t stop, each thrust more intense than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the space.

“Let me ride you,” she pleads, her eyes shining with a mix of lust and determination. Without hesitation, you lie down on the floor, the carpet almost cold compared to the heat emanating from Shuhua as she straddles you.

Her movements are slow at first, sensual, almost torturous. She moves like a goddess, each undulation of her body perfectly choreographed to maximize pleasure. Shuhua's moans intensify, her hands gripping yours as a point of support.

The sensation of her pussy, incredibly wet and slippery around you, makes you close your eyes. You feel every pulse, every contraction, and listen to every moan with attention. The pleasure is an electric current that runs through both of you, feeding off each other in an endless cycle of desire.

She leans over you, her small tits pressed against your chest, her face buried in your neck as you start pounding into her with force, each movement drawing loud moans from Shuhua. The sounds she makes—a mix of pleasure and agony—only increase the intensity of what you feel.

“Fuck me harder,” she whispers in your ear, the tone almost desperate. “I want to feel you deeper, I want to be completely yours.”

Her words are like gasoline on the fire of your desire. You increase the pace, each thrust deeper, more brutal, as if trying to merge with her, to become one. Shuhua's moans turn into screams, her body writhing beneath you as she surrenders completely to the pleasure.

Then, with a moan filled with pleasure and vulnerability, she whispers in your ear, “I want you to fuck my ass. It'll be my first time, so do it carefully.”

Her request is both shocking and exciting. You watch her as she turns over, getting on all fours, offering herself to you in a way that is both submissive and powerful. The sight of her small, tight ass makes your cock throb with renewed strength. You lower yourself, gently licking around the opening, exploring the texture and taste of her, feeling her tremble beneath you.

Every moan that Shuhua lets out as you lick her, preparing her, is an encouragement to go further. You wet your tongue thoroughly, rubbing it against the sensitive skin until she is completely lubricated. Then, slowly, you begin to insert a finger, feeling the initial resistance and hearing her moan, a mix of pain and pleasure.

“It hurts,” she admits, her voice broken, “but keep going… I like it.”

You move carefully, adding more lubrication with your tongue before introducing a second finger. Her ass gradually adjusts, the moans turning into deeper sighs of pleasure. With each movement, you feel her resistance decrease, her body adapting, opening up to you.

“Put your cock in,” she finally asks, her voice almost pleading. “I want to feel you all inside me.”

You position the head of your cock against the tight entrance, pressing slowly as you watch her every reaction. Her ass is incredibly tight, and you feel every inch slowly being swallowed by the warm, pulsing flesh.

“You're so tight,” you say, your voice thick with desire, as you push deeper, slowly allowing her to adjust.

“More,” she moans, her entire body trembling as you finally bury yourself completely inside her. The sensation is overwhelming, the heat and pressure around you intensifying every nerve, every fiber of your being.

You start to move, slowly at first, but soon Shuhua starts asking for more.

“Faster,” she begs, her tone urgent. “Fuck me faster, please.”

You comply with her request, increasing the pace, occasionally pulling out to lubricate in her pussy a bit before putting it back in her ass, which clenches tightly around you. Each movement brings a new explosion of pleasure. Her moans turn into screams, her voice hoarse as she nears climax.

“I’m almost there,” she warns, her fingers digging into the carpet as she holds on against the pleasure consuming her.

When she finally announces she’s going to cum, you don’t stop, continuing to pound into her with all the strength you can muster. She screams as the orgasm hits her, her whole body trembling violently as pleasure overtakes her, and you feel every pulse, every contraction around your cock.

Soon after, you feel your own climax approaching.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn, your voice tense with anticipation.

“Cum inside me,” she begs, her voice full of desire. “Fill my ass with your cum, babe.”

Her words are enough to push you over the edge. You feel an overwhelming wave of pleasure as you finally explode inside her, filling her with everything you have. She feels every pulse of your cock, every hot jet filling her deeply. The pleasure is so intense that your vision blurs, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears as you continue to move, prolonging the moment as long as you can.

As you’re still catching your breath, she slowly leans forward, spreading her cheeks with her hands. Your cum begins to drip out, a thick white line trailing down towards her pussy.

Shuhua looks back at you, smiling.

“Mmm, you came so much inside me,” she says, her voice soft and full of contentment, as you watch your cum drip from her. “I didn’t know this would feel so good… Fuck, I loved it.”

—

You’re floating between sleep and wakefulness, remembering what it felt like to hold Shuhua, her body pressed against yours as if she were an extension of you. The morning light is starting to filter into the room, but you don’t want to fully wake up. You’d rather linger in the haze of dreams, reliving the sensation of her skin on yours, her dark hair splayed across your chest, her scent, her sleepy voice—everything that made up that intimate moment.

You recall how she whispered, almost shyly, “I’m scared to go home.” Her voice was fragile, as if it might break. You didn’t say anything, just ran your hand through her hair, trying to brush away her fear with a simple touch. In that moment, everything seemed possible. Maybe she would stay. Maybe you’d have more time.

But now, on the threshold between dream and reality, you feel the emptiness beside you. You turn your head and open your eyes. She’s moving quietly around the room, putting on the clothes scattered on the floor, just as she did yesterday. And once again, you’re not willing to let her leave like this, as if she’d never been in your home, in your clothes, in your bed.

“Hey,” you murmur, your voice still hoarse from sleep. She stops, her shirt halfway on, and looks at you, her expression a mix of surprise and something like guilt. Before she can react, you get up, slip out of bed, and reach her. Your arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back into the warmth of the bed. She lets out a sigh, caught between discomfort and desire. “Stay a little longer,” you whisper against her neck, your lips finding a soft spot that makes her shiver. “At least until breakfast.”

She closes her eyes, as if trying to find the strength to resist.

“I can’t,” she replies, her voice wavering.

“Of course you can.” You turn her to face you, her eyes meeting yours, looking darker than they did yesterday. “Just a little longer.”

She shakes her head, pulling away, creating a distance that irritates you.

“I’ll eat somewhere else,” she says, her voice firmer now.

You feel the tension rising. Something’s different.

“What happened, Shuhua? Why are you acting like this?”

She turns her face away, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s none of your business.”

Then you remember that, at some point during the night, when you were asleep, a phone rang in the living room, the sound so faint that you almost thought you were dreaming. But it was real. Terribly real.

“Of course it is. We had something here… I know you feel the same.” Your voice rises, you can’t help it. “When will I see you again?”

“Maybe later,” she replies, almost automatically, as if saying what she thinks you want to hear.

You feel nauseous.

“Later, where? What time?”

She moves toward the door, her hands trembling slightly as she tries to grab her bag.

“Anywhere. Anytime.”

“That’s not an answer,” you say, following her, frustration starting to replace what was once concern. “I thought we had something.”

She stops at the door, her hand already on the handle. She looks at you, her expression a mix of sadness and determination.

“We did. But I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what? Being happy?” you snap, knowing the words will hurt her, but unable to stop yourself.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

“You don’t understand. And I can’t explain it to you.”

She leaves, and you stand there, in the living room, staring at the door as it closes, listening to the sound of her footsteps fading away on the street. The feeling of emptiness is like a black hole, sucking all the light and warmth out of the morning.

—

You're back at work, with sand sticking to your feet as you guide a group of tourists, all sunburnt and wearing ridiculous souvenir caps.

“What kind of creature is that, anyway?” one of them asks, curious, pointing at the dead animal on the sand.

“Look, folks,” you begin, trying to sound more authoritative than annoyed, “This is a jellyfish. Under no circumstances should you touch it. We're in jellyfish season, so they’re everywhere, and they’re not exactly friendly. Be careful if you’re going into the water.”

The tourists murmur among themselves, some raising worried eyebrows, others continuing to snap photos of the creature. You shake your head, a little weary of the routine, and turn to head back to the lifeguard station. As you walk, the waves break gently on the shore, a sound you usually find relaxing, but today it’s just another background noise amplifying your anxiety.

You push open the door to the cabin and barely step inside when a voice explodes beside you. “Boo!”

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. You spin around sharply, only to find your dad laughing like a kid who just pulled off a prank. He’s standing there, hands on his hips, wearing that smile that, somehow, never seems to age.

“Geez, Dad!” you mutter, trying not to show how much he really scared you. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack or what?”

Your dad just laughs louder, the kind of laugh that always fills the room with energy.

“Oh, come on, kid. If I can’t prank my own son, who else am I gonna do it to?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face. That’s your dad, always full of life, always trying to make you laugh, even when all you want to do is dive into the sea and swim until you disappear from sight.

He pulls a flyer out of his pocket and hands it to you, still smiling, like he’s giving you a great gift.

“Look what I found out there!”

You take the paper, giving it a quick glance.

“What the hell is this?” you ask, but you already know the answer before you finish the sentence.

“Tonight’s luau! You remember the luau, don’t you? That town tradition, everyone gathering on the beach, dancing, eating...”

“Of course I remember,” you cut him off, tossing the flyer back onto the counter. “But honestly, Dad, I couldn’t care less about the damm luau.”

Your dad pauses, his smile fading for a second, like you just threw cold water on his enthusiasm.

“What? What do you mean, couldn’t care less? You used to love it.”

“That was when I was 15, Dad. Things have changed.”

He looks at you with an expression of disbelief.

“Changed how?”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent, but Shuhua’s name is stuck on the tip of your tongue, almost slipping out.

“They just… changed. It’s not the same anymore. I’m not the same anymore.”

Your dad crosses his arms, clearly not ready to give up so easily.

“So what? Doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun. There’ll be a bunch of tourists there, hot girls who love a lifeguard. And let’s face it, you need to blow off some steam, son.”

You sigh, your thoughts still stuck on Shuhua. The idea of seeing other girls, forcing a smile, pretending to be interested, feels unbearable right now.

“I’m not in the mood, Dad. Not today.”

Your dad watches you for a moment, trying to read what you’re not saying. He’s seen this look before, back when you were a teenager trying to hide some secret.

“Does this have to do with that girl I saw with you yesterday?”

You shift uncomfortably, the tension growing.

“Let it go, Dad. It’s nothing.”

But he’s not fooled.

“Listen, whatever it is, you don’t have to be stuck in it. Things are what they are, but you can’t let that stop you from living your life.”

“I know, Dad. But this is different.”

“Everything feels different when you’re in it up to your neck,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “But trust me, kid. Go to the luau, relax a little. You might find some answers while you’re there.”

You nod, but your thoughts are still far away.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, just to end the conversation.

Your dad smiles, as if that’s good enough. “That’s all I ask. Now, keep an eye on the tourists. I’m gonna check on the rest of the beach,” and before leaving the cabin, he adds, “Oh, and no taking the ATV out for joyrides, young man.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.”

He smiles, and you watch him leave, still with that air of unbeatable optimism, like the world is a place where everything always works out in the end. You wish you could feel that too, but all you can think about is Shuhua. Whether she’ll show up at the luau, or if that was the last time you’ll ever see her.

—

Night has already fallen when you finally decide to go to the luau. It’s not so much a conscious decision as it is an automatic reaction. As if your body is pushing you toward where your heart wants to be, even though your mind is telling you to give up. You spent the day searching in various places, trying to find Shuhua, but she seemed to have vanished. And now, with the darkness settling in, the luau is your last option.

You arrive at the beach where the party is already in full swing. The atmosphere is a blend of colors and sounds, like a vibrant painting brought to life. The flames of the bonfires rise against the night sky, casting dancing shadows over the people around them. Groups gather around the fires, some playing guitar, others just laughing and drinking, all immersed in a carefree sense of freedom. The music plays, a tropical beat mixed with the sound of the ocean.

But you don’t belong here. While everyone around you seems light and carefree, you feel heavy, out of place, like a parasite in a foreign body. The laughter and smiles around you hit like acid rain, burning instead of refreshing.

And then you see your father. He’s on the other side of the bonfire, laughing loudly and holding a drink, surrounded by a circle of friends. He spots you and his face lights up with that simple, contagious joy he always seems to carry.

“Hey, look who decided to show up!” he shouts, waving you over to join them.

You force a smile and walk over, but your father already sees the hesitation on your face.

“I’ll stay just a bit,” you say, trying to sound casual. “Unless... something shows up.”

Your father raises an eyebrow, catching your true meaning.

“Something or someone?” he asks, with a look that says he already knows the answer.

You just shake your head, looking down.

“Whatever.”

He doesn’t give up.

“Listen, son, I know you’re going through something. But... wearing that funeral face isn’t going to help. Look,” he says, nodding toward a group of girls by another bonfire, “that one over there, with the short hair, has been eyeing you since you arrived.”

You don’t even bother to look.

“I don’t care. I didn’t come here for the girls.”

“Really?” Your father tilts his head, as if trying to solve a riddle. “Then why did you come?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, more frustrated with yourself than with him. But then he points his chin toward someone.

You finally look in the direction he’s indicating, and your heart stops for a moment. It’s Shuhua. She’s there, as beautiful and carefree as ever, but there’s something different about her. She seems radiant, brighter than you’ve ever seen her. When your eyes meet, she smiles and walks over, her long, graceful legs moving with a confidence that wasn’t there in the morning.

She wraps you in a hug and kisses you, and everything feels strange. Not the kiss itself, but the way she acts, so joyful, so carefree. It’s as if the Shuhua from the morning, the one who was scared and confused, has been replaced by this sunny version, perfect for the luau.

“Hey,” she says, still smiling.

You force a smile in return.

“Hey. You... seem different.”

“Me? No, I’m just enjoying the night. What else should I be doing?”

You spend the next hour at the luau, doing exactly that. Enjoying. You dance to the live music, join a group playing guitar, singing an improvised version of some Jack Johnson song. Shuhua is light, fluid, as if the world was meant to be enjoyed just like this. She grabs two glasses of some sweet, strong drink, toasting with you before downing it in one go. You laugh, drink, dance more. For a moment, you allow yourself to forget the dark cloud hanging over you. For a moment, everything is simple.

But eventually, the fatigue begins to set in. The bonfires start to die down, and the laughter around you grows softer. That’s when you look at Shuhua, and she’s there, leaning against you, still smiling, but with something in her eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, taking her hand. “I want to show you a special place.”

She looks at you, curious.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise. But trust me.”

She smiles, nodding, and you both leave the luau behind. The walk to the pier is quiet, just the sound of waves and footsteps on the sand. The pier is old, wooden, stretching out into the sea like a tongue reaching toward the unknown. At night, the place is deserted, lit only by the silver moonlight reflecting on the water below.

You walk to the end of the pier, where the world seems to stop. The sound of the waves is more intense here, crashing against the wooden pillars with a hypnotic rhythm.

Shuhua takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

“This place is beautiful,” she says, her voice soft. “I like the darkness... Here, we’re just shadows.”

You watch her, trying to understand what’s going on inside her.

“Shadows,” you repeat, as if the word carries a weight you’re only now beginning to grasp. “Is that what we are? Shadows?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, staring out at the water.

“Maybe. But with the light of the next morning,” she says, her voice low and poetic, “the sun will sweep away the night’s shadows. Forever.”

The silence that follows is heavy, each word a stone thrown into a bottomless well. You wait for the sound, but it never comes. You look at the sea, where the moon draws a silver path across the waves.

“Look,” you say, pointing. “Do you see the silver bridge over the sea?”

She follows your gaze and nods.

“Yes.”

“That bridge,” you continue, your words coming more slowly now, “it can connect us, no matter where you are. Even on the other side of the ocean, there will be a bridge like this. And you can walk across it and come to me. I’ll be here, in this same place. It’s where I belong. And I’ll be waiting.”

Shuhua smiles sadly.

“One day, you’ll get tired of waiting.”

“I learned to be patient from a certain someone,” you say, moving closer to her, gently touching her face. “And I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll be here.”

For a moment, she says nothing, just closes her eyes and rests her forehead against yours, as if trying to etch this moment into her memory. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice full of a sadness you don’t fully understand. “But... maybe you shouldn’t.”

You don’t respond because, deep down, you know she might be right. And there, on the pier, under the moonlight, you stay together. Shadows that, for now, still resist the morning light.

—

You hold her tightly by the waist, feeling her warmth blend with yours as you guide her toward the bed. The surroundings seem to dissolve under the intensity of the looks you exchange. Each breath is heavy with anticipation, each heartbeat a countdown to something inevitable, yet divinely uncertain. Shuhua is in your arms, so close you can feel the softness of her skin against yours, the intoxicating scent of her perfume mixing with the latent desire you both share. This is the last night you’ll have together, and that awareness is reflected in the intense passion shining in her eyes.

When you finally lay Shuhua down on the bed, your hands move with deliberate slowness, touching every curve of her body with an almost sacred reverence. Your lips find the delicate skin of her neck, delivering kisses that are both gentle and laden with desire. You feel her pulse quicken beneath your lips, a clear sign of the effect you’re having on her. Gradually, you move lower, removing the dress that covered her body, revealing her pale, delicate skin. Your kisses follow the path of the dress, leaving a trail of sensations behind. Your lips touch her tits with adoration, your tongue gently exploring every part, feeling the softness of her skin and her unique taste. You continue your descent, kissing her flat stomach, feeling the muscles contract under your touch until you finally reach the place where Shuhua’s desire is most evident. When your mouth finds her pussy, you suck with the uncontrollable desire you always have, each movement of your tongue making Shuhua moan with pleasure.

“I’m so wet for you,” she whispers, her voice thick with need and excitement, her body arching involuntarily with each new wave of pleasure.

Your response to her desire is immediate. You begin to remove your clothes, your cock already fully hard, pulsing with the need to be inside her. Shuhua, with a look that mixes lust and expectation, turns onto her stomach, her body’s muscles tense and ready.

“Fuck me now,” she begs, her voice husky, almost a moan, as she adjusts herself for perfect access. You climb onto the bed, kneeling behind her, your entire body alert, every nerve pulsing with the desire to possess her. When you finally enter her, the sensation is almost overwhelming. Shuhua’s pussy is incredibly tight, her legs slightly closed, amplifying the intensity of each thrust. You grab her ass firmly, feeling the soft, firm flesh under your hands, and start thrusting with fierce passion. Each thrust is deep and deliberate, drawing moans from Shuhua that fill the room like an erotic melody.

“Spank me... spank my ass,” she pleads, her voice almost desperate, and you obey, delivering slaps that make her pale skin flush with a bright red. The feel of your hand meeting her flesh is hypnotic, and every time you spank her, she responds with more moans, more pleasure.

“Like that... harder,” she demands, and you do exactly what she wants, feeling the connection between you deepening with each new slap, each new thrust.

With your cock now fully lubricated by Shuhua’s wetness, an irresistible desire to go further takes over you. Without warning, you guide your cock to her ass, the tight entrance offering a resistance that only heightens your excitement. The gasp of surprise and lust that escapes Shuhua’s lips is like fuel to the fire inside you.

“So good,” she murmurs, almost breathless, as she adjusts to the new rhythm. “It feels so good... fuck me deeper,” she begs, her voice trembling with pleasure. You lean over her, lying on top of her, your weight pressing her into the bed as you continue to penetrate her. The movements become even more intense, and you feel Shuhua tremble beneath you, her body responding to each thrust with a new wave of pleasure. you give gentle nibbles on Shuhua's earlobe, while your moans echo in her ear, an erotic song that makes Shuhua writhe in pleasure.

“I love hearing you moan in my ear, babe” she whispers, her voice thick with pleasure, and you feel the connection between you intensify even more, a mix of love and wildness that you both share without reservations.

The need for a change is instinctive. You both turn onto your sides, you still inside her, each movement smooth and controlled. In this position, the intimacy between you reaches a new level. With Shuhua’s body perfectly nestled against yours, you feel each of her breaths, each heartbeat, as you continue to fuck her from the side. Your hands roam her body, one holding her waist firmly, guiding the movements, while your mouth explores her neck, with kisses of affection and licks of desire. Shuhua’s moans grow louder, more urgent, and you feel her body begin to tremble as she approaches climax.

“I’m gonna cum, babe... don’t stop... please, don’t stop,” she begs, her eyes closed, her lips parted in ecstasy. You feel her body tighten around you, every muscle contracted in anticipation, and when she finally cums, you watch as she loses control. Her body arches, her moans turn into muffled screams, and you feel the wave of pleasure wash over her body, reverberating within you.

With her climax still hanging in the air, you continue, feeling your own pleasure rapidly approaching.

“I’m gonna cum,” you announce, your voice hoarse with desire and need, and Shuhua, still breathing heavily, quickly turns around, her body moving with feline grace.

“In my mouth... I want all your cum in my mouth,” she pleads, kneeling over you.

Her lips close tightly around the head of your cock, while her agile tongue slides and teases, pulling moans from you that echo through the room.

“Give it to me... fill my mouth with your cum,” she begs, and those words are enough to push you over the edge.

When you cum, it’s as if an overwhelming wave of pleasure sweeps through your body, and Shuhua receives every spurt of cum with an almost indecent enthusiasm. She doesn’t pull back; on the contrary, she sucks harder, her tongue swirling around the head of your cock, making sure not to let a drop escape. You watch, completely spent, as she swallows everything, her eyes lifting to meet yours.

“Mmm... Your cum tastes so good,” she whispers as she licks her lips.

“You’re incredible, Shuhua. Fuck… You’re so fucking hot,” and it’s all you can say at that moment.

—

That night dissolved into fragments, like an old film burning at the edges, the moments flickering and disappearing before you could grasp them. But some sparks of moments were still vivid, like when you both ran along the beach, your feet sinking into the cold sand as the salty wind cut across your faces. Shuhua laughed, the sound escaping her as if joy was something impossible to contain. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you had to keep moving, because stopping meant thinking, and thinking was something both of you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You two danced without music, moving to the silent beats that only the two of you could hear. The moon lit you up, turning the sand into liquid silver. She spun, arms wide, head tilted back, her hair floating around her like a dark crown. And you followed her, because there was no other choice, because she was the only thing that made sense that night.

The sea called to you, the waves licking your feet, cold like the reality you were trying to escape. She laughed again, a sound muffled by the water, and you let yourself laugh too, even if it was just a pale imitation of what she felt. You walked back to town in silence, just following the lights that blinked in the distance.

The places you passed seemed unreal, like poorly painted backdrops in a cheap theater. There were lights, there were people, but none of it mattered. You were the only ones who existed, caught in a current pulling you toward each other, keeping you together while the world around you disintegrated.

You remember it now as if it were a dream. The blurred faces, the faded neon colors, the distant sounds. Everything fleeting, so fast that you barely had time to realize what was happening before it was already over. Everything, except her. She was real. She was the only thing that didn’t disappear.

Until you wake up.

The room is empty. You’re alone. Shuhua is gone, without a sound, without a goodbye. She slipped through your fingers this time, point for her. Well, maybe it’s easier this way. But you’re left with the feeling of something lost, something ripped away from you without warning. The bed still carries the warmth of her body, but there’s no one there anymore. Just the echo of what was and what could have been.

You remember her crying last night. Out of nowhere, as you were leaving a carousel, the tears just started falling. She didn’t say anything, just threw herself into your arms, as if she wanted to disappear. And you didn’t ask why because asking would only hurt her more, so you just held her, feeling the tremor in her body, the weight of the impending farewell. She cried again later, when you were both in bed after sex. You wondered how long she had been holding it in, if you were the first anchor she found or just the first one she had.

Now, sitting on the bed, you look at the spot where she was lying. The pillow is still a little damp. Secret tears she couldn’t hide, marks of a sadness you couldn’t heal. You pick up the pillow, holding it for a moment as if it could give you some answer. Something slips from it, sliding softly onto the sheet.

The photo. The Polaroid you took of her the first time you met. Hard to say exactly when she put it there, whether it was the first, second, or last night. Not that it matters, anyway. The sea is behind her, her long dress blowing in the wind, her face turned to the horizon as if waiting for something that would never come.

You turn the photo over and see the words written on the back, in delicate handwriting:

“This is where I stay.”

You feel a tightness in your chest because you know what she meant. This is where she stays, where she belongs. Not with you, but with the moment, the memory, the place that will never move.

She said goodbye there, in those simple words.

And you’re alone, holding a photo that’s now all that’s left. The distant sound of the waves reaches you through the window, and for a moment, you imagine a silver bridge over the sea. A bridge that could have connected you if things had been different.

But all you have now is this fleeting memory, a dream that you’ll eventually struggle to recall, already fading like shadows in the first light of morning.

[svndaysaweek]

Addiction and Poisoning — {Feat. Minnie (& Miyeon)}

1.2k words

A/N: It’s been months since the last time I posted something. This might not be the best I’ve written, but I did write something, nevertheless. I’ve been feeling the need to release something, and @i-am-lifeform24 thankfully gave me a precious opportunity to write something!!! So I’m posting it here too. Check out other fics from the ‘Curated Companions’ also!

*Drug use, choking, bondage, a bit of angst(…?)

******

Once in for all. You head to the bar you’re regular at. Everytime you tip a glass there, you experience a weird dream and when you wake up you’re in your bed, no memories of how you even made it there.

It’s happened several times already. To the point where you start to doubt if it really is a dream.

A charming bartender, nice drinks, and the addictive dream-like scenes you fragmentarily see like a deja-vu. 

There are different versions of it, but all follow the same sequence: sit down, empty a glass or two, a little chirpy chit chat with the bartender and the very next blink she’s riding you in a frantic manner.

What haunts you the most is that you lose old memories too. The damage is disturbing, since even at work you don’t remember major events that happened. You really should stop drinking, and you're aware of it more than anyone. 

You can’t explain, but you feel like you should just go there again. It’s an addiction, maybe. You know you should stop, but you don’t.

******

The door swings open with the little bells on it quirkily ringing. It’s a dim bar, with the calm noise of people talking and laughing with clinking sounds. Over the counter she’s wiping glasses, not in a tuxedo but in a white sleeveless shirt, long blonde hair over a shoulder and a pair of orbs in her eyes with the aura that a quartz gemstone would exude.

Hot, but not red-hot. Erotic, but not foul.

The very eyes in your dreams that you made roll back.

“Hi, long time! The usual?” Minnie’s grin blooms quickly as if she’s been waiting for you. Then she fixes it the next second, recognizing how unusual it is for a bartender to be as turgidly excited as her.

“I’d love to.” With a bite on her lip she turns around, takes a bottle of whiskey. Then enters a room in the back for a glass.

Your hand automatically takes your phone out of the pocket. You see a message from an unknown number saying ‘Hey we need to talk’, but before you can check Minnie returns with the glass and serves it to you.

“Are you shifting soon? Never seen you in that shirt before,” A sip, and another. The latter is because it tastes rather different. “Ah, this? How do I look?”

Gorgeous!

Gorge-

Gor-

…

******

“Yeah, that’s it…” Minnie’s hands are planted on your chest while her hips are senselessly grinding on your cock. The pace skyrockets and her nails dig into you deeper and deeper.

But dangerously you don’t feel the pain. You can only feel how tight she’s squeezing your cock, how sweaty her thighs are, how hot her breath is and how good she’s fucking you.

“Fuck, it gets better everytime… How can I stop fucking you like this…” Her hands are now in her hair, arms open and messing her own hair a bit. 

She squeezes her own breasts before slightly choking you with both hands. You try to reach for her hands, which are cuffed to the bed. Minnie seems to enjoy the surprised look on your face, as her face descends to be just above yours with a pearly giggle.

“Bet Miyeon is all too vanilla to do this stuff to you in bed,” She whispers it right at your left ear before nibbling on it, making you flinch a bit.

“Miyeon? Who is-“

“Never mind, boy. I have only you and you—oh, god I’m close—have only me.” Minnie’s teeth leave a deep mark on your under lip. Her glance is now beyond enrapturing. It’s a poignant hypnosis with a tinge of coercion. 

Only when she cums and squirts on your cock with a rather lunatic moan is the bewitching scrutiny alleviated. The sound of heavy breaths and the tickle of her fingers stroking on your chest is all that you can sense.

And you’re sprawled on the bed, exhausted, with your consciousness fading out. “I have only you, Minnie” is what you lethargically repeat until all becomes dark.

******

You have no idea how you ended up on your bed. Again. The last place you remember you were at last night was the bar. 

Was it the whiskey after all? 

Before you could even get out of your bed a headache swirls inside your head.

I had intense sex with Minnie again in the dream again.

She mentioned someone.

I received a text from someone who wanted to talk with me.

What could all this mean?

All of a sudden, a loud knock on the door shakes you awake from your thoughts. 

“Who’s there?” You shout, and you hear a frustrated, urgent female voice.

“Honey, it’s me! Please open the door and let’s talk!” On the other side of the door there’s a woman standing. Anxious, upset and unfamiliar.

“Do I know you?” It’s a genuine question, because you don’t recognize her at all. “Honey, this is not funny. At all. Why the hell have you been ignoring all my-” The girl tries to grab your hand which you swiftly evade.

“Sorry, but what are you talking about?” 

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple.

“Babe!” Down the hallway is Minnie. You are so confused by her calling you that, but it must’ve been the drink. Should’ve drunk less.

“Babe?! Excuse me, but do you know him? Honey, do you know her?” Miyeon looks shocked, terrified, even. “I do. Why are you asking me that? Who are you?”

Disbelief shades her face. “H-honey… What are you talking about? I’m your fiancé! I’m Miyeon, don't you remember?” At the same time there’s a victorious grin on Minnie’s face. 

“Seems the potion worked very well…” Minnie whispers in Miyeon’s ear, quiet enough for it not to make it to your ears.

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple. Then all senses fuzz out.

******

“Don’t go too fast, Miyeon! It’s dangerous!” You’re on a bicycle following her, on a riverside road with cherry blossoms fluttering along the breeze. She briefly looks back at you, and the way her hair streams in the wind takes your breath. “You’re saying that because you can’t pass me!” She smiles playfully and speeds up ahead.

“What are you listening to?” She takes one of your earphones after sitting down next to you on the bench. “Just some classics. Autumn is a season of classics for me.” You turn your head in her direction and are stunned at how her look matches the color of the trees and sky ever so perfectly. She can only chuckle at your face.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, yes!” You’re down on one knee, putting a ring on her finger. She’s shedding tears with the happiest smile. “I love you, Miyeon.” You rise and hug her. Your hands are still shaking. Her shoulders shake from her crying.

“I love you too. I have only you. And you have only me.”

******

A/N.2: Check replies!

[capslocked]

STARLET

male reader x cho miyeon

part 1 of another name up in lights

28k words (special thanks to @passingnotions for helping make all my work possible)

“I would rather throw up,” you murmur out of the corner of your mouth, “than do another take of this scene with you.” “Okay.” Miyeon tilts her chin. The lights begin to dim over the blonde hair she has falling over an upturned brow. “Then throw up.”

It takes a few beats—while production staff scurry about the tense silence rolling through the studio—for everything to fall perfectly still.

Miyeon takes a deep breath, and whispers: “I can get you a bucket.”

“Action!” (The one where Miyeon ruins your career, and you ruin her too.)

- That first time the two of you are photographed together, it’s wholly unremarkable. The entirety of the cast is in frame, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the banner at the presser and pretending that someone had just whispered something worthy of a belly laugh into your ears. Cho Miyeon hangs delicately off your arm, hand wrapped just above your elbow, and all of you are at your most jovial—looking like you’re simply having the most wonderful time, smiles wide and beaming. Because if that isn’t part of the act. You sell the characters, the fiction, the drama even when the cameras aren’t rolling.

The second photo is what gets people talking. 

Anyone with half a brain ought to know that if you were sincerely seeing your co-star, an untruth that the general public is apparently beyond happy to eat up, you wouldn’t be so careless to post up outside a small cafe. Certainly not at a trendy place aside one of the busiest streets in the city, but these tabloids are rabid. Like a head injury, that self-condemning desire to get clicks and hits at any cost has long clouded their ability to think, and so it gets plastered right there on the front page of every rag in the industry. Don’t get it confused, the photo looks good. It’s got allure and mischief written all over it. And that’s exactly what you’re going for.

Miyeon’s hair is up, tied into a messy bun, because she’d have hated to obfuscate the work that her floral shoulderless dress was not doing in hiding from the world the most immaculate pair of collarbones you’d ever seen. Then in her hands—between her teeth—she fiddles with the earpiece of her sunglasses, shooting you with the clearest, most flagrant fuck me now eyes that only a blind person might not pick up on (doubtful still). And you’re there, smirking back at her, for even if a photo tells a whole story, this one really only ever needed a sentence: sparks flying, the two of you really hit it off. 

It’s a point of contention later—several times actually—but regardless of how you feel, the girl can act.

Now the image that really gets the media whipped into a frenzy is a lot less polished. It’s grainy and the lighting is poor and in a change of pace, the quality of the photo would lead you to believe that it wasn’t premeditated. Which, unfortunately, is exactly how it goes down.

Even still, it's all framed perfectly, infamously, a straight-up disaster. Miyeon is immediately recognizable, unabashedly blonde and gorgeous as ever. You’ve got your mouth on hers and the problems absolutely do not end there: her back is flush against the bricks of the alley, pinned under your weight, and yes, your hands are busy. One up her skirt, the other in her shirt, she’s blushing into you, and you wouldn’t know from the photo, but she’s got her fingers working at your belt and as a collection, it’s all utterly shameless. Everything up to that point had been muted in subtext; both of you know the value of intrigue, the art of letting everyone else connect the dots—this, however, unintentionally becomes a phenomenon.

Lights the internet on fire for a minute.

The shocking part of all this, what ends up being labeled a calamity by people whose opinions actually concern you, is the photo that you assume will haunt you forever and follow you to your grave isn’t even the one where you’re making out with the starlet du jour in the harsh yellow of an exterior floodlight—in the relaxed wickedness only two AM might ever know. No, it’s this photo, the press’s favorite, given how it shows up everywhere. Miyeon’s holding the award for best actress in a lead role in one hand, knuckles tight around the podium microphone with her other. She’s radiant. She’s flustering. She’s breathtaking. She even trips up on her words in a way that’s endearing. And every fool with a blog is infatuated by all of it.

Your own thoughts on the matter aside, the most neutral and economic way to describe it is unintentionally funny. You were with her when she picked out that silver sequin evening dress, sparkling in the demand of stage lights and camera flashes. It spills from where the garment ties around her neck over the lines of her body as if it has no bias itself for any form or structure, only curving on its journey to her feet at the behest of where her breasts sloped down from her collarbones, the flare of her hips just below her waist. She’s the spitting image of perfection, a damn icon—the headlines are supposed to be about her—but there you are: tucked into the corner, in a sea of faces all justifiably mesmerized by the beauty that walked delicately onto the stage and adorably needed to adjust the microphone stand down to her height. 

As It turns out, the absolute displeasure in your scowl isn’t any less captivating. Envious. Spiteful. Arrogant. You catch some serious flak for it.

For months, it ends up being the subject of commentary online, in print, on television—your names on the tips of everyone’s tongues. All with their own theories, but no one manages to guess the truth for a long time, because no one could even begin to believe it:

You hate Miyeon, and Miyeon hates you.

-

Oh, there are plenty of clues, if you aren’t already keenly aware of it, that your career is slowly sliding into obscurity. Years ago, walking into your agent's office was an event: eyes widened and turned to you immediately. The quiet smiles, the blushing, the batting of eyelashes. The pomp and circumstance of the agency’s biggest client strolling into Soyeon’s office like you were crossing the Rubicon into the streets of Rome. It was glorious and it always meant something big was about to happen.

To be clear, you’re not saying you need the attention, but today, no one even offers to take your coat, which is a shame, because it’s been raining biblically for the past week, and there’s puddles in your shoes, squeaking obnoxiously as you parade unceremoniously through a row of desks. Even so, sounding like a dog’s chew toy, it’s sheer and utter avoidance—eyes glued to monitors and unlifted from scribbled notes as though you’re simply another courier delivering a parcel (which hey, in all honesty, someone like that might even have some of that magical potential). 

“Hold up. What do you mean they’re passing me up?” you ask, eyes narrowed and leaning forward in your seat so that the blatant abandonment of all your grace and charm doesn’t get lost in translation across the length of Soyeon’s desk. “That part had my fucking name on it.”

“It did.” Soyeon drums her pen against her keyboard. Comes close to making a face. “And now it has someone else’s name on it. Someone the studio trusts.”

“Oh, for christ’s sake, he’s twelve years older than me. The character is supposed to be thirty, not a dinosaur in a Kingsman suit.” 

“It’s the silver fox thing. He markets easily to women.”

“And I don’t?” you stammer out, and Soyeon lifts an eyebrow. “Only a date night staple for almost a decade, Soyeon. Can you honestly sit there and say I wouldn’t play it better? The man plays nothing but himself in every role. Every. Single. Role.”

“Well, it just so happens that he brings people to the theater in droves,” Soyeon snaps back before you have the chance to say anything you could possibly regret. “Look, I told you I have good news and bad news, and it sounds like you’ve figured out the bad news already.”

“Oh please don’t tell me it’s charity.” You wave your hand flippantly. “We’re not doing this.” 

Discount parts for struggling actors. If they were worth more than the paper in the scripts they were printed on, Soyeon would’ve been negotiating them this very moment. 

There’s a lot about it to unpack, your fall from grace. You aren’t bringing in commissions, directors aren’t lining up in front of the firm to shove their scripts in front of your nose, and your last few films are better remembered for the comedic value of their scathing reviews than the actual screenplay or cinematography.

One such review of your most recent work, an ill-fated screen adaptation of Blood Meridian that had ‘studio interference’ written all over it right from its woeful inception, reads: I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hated the implied sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the subliminal insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it.

There are plenty more just like it, and plenty worse, but it’s never done you any good, mentally, to sift through them.

“Really. I’m serious, these parts aren’t bad.” 

Soyeon has enough confidence in her voice to sound convincing, but you’ve also never heard her come across any different. You catch yourself pausing to think about it, which is a clear tell that you’re perhaps nearing wit’s end, considering you’re not one to shy away from blurting out the first thought that forms half-coherent into your head.

“Now, they’re not what you’re looking for, admittedly, but I just think with a little luck, they could end up being a fortuitous move,” she adds.

“Go on, pitch,” you say, before sinking a little lower into your chair because even though it pains you to agree with her, she’s right.

“If you’ll dismount from your high horse for a moment,” Soyeon starts, waiting for you to finish rolling your eyes, “the Coens called again—”

“I’m not.”

“The part is interesting.”

“The part is small, it’s side-cast. Don’t sugarcoat it. I’m not taking one of their rescue-shelter-for-the-has-been supporting roles. That’s the equivalent of throwing in the towel.”

“It’s done wonders for careers in worse shape than yours, to be candid.”

“Careful,” you warn her, lifting your chin and glaring—a look you are definitely not known for—but if there’s anyone in the industry who could hold her own, deflect your best, and make you feel foolish for thinking you could cross swords and come out unscathed, it’s Jeon Soyeon.

“May I remind you that I’ve been nominated for best actor three times? That no one in their right mind predicted any of those movies to be any good? I’ve got talent. Let’s not sit around and pretend like I need to be put on life support here. I’m capable.”

Soyeon just steeples her fingers together. “I don’t need the reminder. I made that exact point in a call with a producer this morning, but it’s hard to get people to look past the fact that some of your recent choices have been—”

“If you’re going to say I told you so,” you grumble, letting out a sharp sigh, “let’s get it over with.”

She doesn’t say anything right away. Just pushes a folder across the desk and into your hands like she’s betraying national secrets to a foreign adversary. “Listen, don’t walk out in disgust. At least not right away.”

It takes only a moment. You recognize what’s going on here immediately. “Soyeon.”

“I know. I know. I know.” She waves her hand. “But hear me out, give it a chance.”

“It’s a rom-com, Soyeon.” “I’m plenty aware of what it is.” “I can see it already: smart, sophisticated, funny.” It takes a lot not to curl your lip. And then it fucking curls anyway. “I thought… I thought I had climbed out of the depths of romantic-comedy-hell, Soyeon. This is like suggesting that I get back into a relationship with an abuser.”

“I know, but this one actually is different,” she says, and you take a moment to remember you’ve always respected her honesty, paid her for it, and should’ve probably listened to it on more than one occasion. It’s the reason you’re here of all places. 

“You’d kill the part,” she adds. “You spent years killing parts just like it. There’s no shame in that. And the director’s asked for you, specifically. By name. She’s willing to double your asking price.”

So maybe your eyes widen at that, even if it’s the absolute worst way to admit defeat, that you’re just as talentless as you’ve always feared: retreating back to the comfort of the role, all that expertise in acting with—no scratch that, acting at—some barely legal starlet ready to show a little skin to get ahead. 

(That’s the nature of the game, and it’s your roots, unfortunately, but it’s safe, and if the money is there, then better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.) “Ah, yeah okay, well here’s the thing: they’ve already decided on the female lead.” You lean forward, like you’d have to listen to this next part in a whisper, because anything louder than that would make it too difficult to bear. “And?” Soyeon clicks her tongue, runs her thumb across her lips, thinking of how to soften the blow. “I mean she isn’t what you’d call an actress, exactly.” “What the hell does that mean, exactly?” “Cho Miyeon,” she starts, and you’re actually just sitting there, tasting at something in your mouth like it’ll help you make sense of it, if only for the reason that you’re not quite sure who that is. “She’s, uh, well, she’s a popstar, you see.” “Oh you’re not kidding.”

There’s a sincerity that lives somewhere in Soyeon’s lack of any expression at all, perfect poker-face armed and readied. You have to squint to really take it in. Heavens.

-

Exactly how much Soyeon actually knew about this girl, you’ll never know. She claimed first that they met through a mutual friend who does publicity work for another studio, and on a separate occasion saying that they went to school together, determinedly avoiding anything like names or corroborating details. Of course you believed her, because how were you supposed to know any different?

“Wait, you mean like actual royalty?” you ask a few days later, after Soyeon explains Miyeon’s nickname to you, because in this industry, it’s really not that ridiculous a question. 

“It’s just a running gag,” she says casually, and you both watch the waiter wordlessly grate pepper into her salad until Soyeon puts a hand up.

“So,” you continue, incredulous, “it’s supposed to be funny?”

“Look, it’s a whole thing.” Soyeon picks up her fork, but doesn’t quite end up doing anything with it. “I promise she’s only half the disaster you think she is.”

“Then do me a favor: kick my shin when I’m supposed to laugh.”

“Do yourself a favor, and try to be a little amiable.”

“You say that like I don’t know how to be charming,” you deadpan, sipping at your coffee while Soyeon’s glare stands its ground.

It’s nothing official, but Soyeon had organized a script reading. The Director is off in some foreign land scouting for the perfect beach with perfectly white sand on an island that already has enough problems, and tells you in three separate text messages to just read the fucking script. You’re groaning, rolling your eyes, and then, curled up next to the fireplace in your readers at three in the morning, it hits you—like really hits you. And you’re shocked, mostly, that there's brilliance in these pages. It’s not the kind of flick you expected, the kind that has journalists at the Atlantic, real writers with academic chops and know-how, publishing articles with titles like: Why Are Romantic Comedies So Bad?

Which, hey, isn’t that a great question. There are a couple of answers, you imagine. You haven’t read the piece of course; you’re the last person that would ever need to. But perhaps among the most fundamental obligations for the genre is that there must be some degree of obstacle, a challenge to nuptial bliss that the hero and heroine must overcome, all before the story’s happily-ever-after. And, to put it simply, such obstacles have only gotten harder and harder to come by. They used to lie in heaps and piles on the ground, ripe for the picking: parental disapproval, difference in social class, unfulfilled promises, the classic and creatively bankrupt friendship-blossoming-into-romance. Nowadays there’s quite literally nothing new under the sun.

So take that all into account, and then add in the fact that you’ve got your hands on something innovative and creative and tasteful—it’s insulting, absurd even, that you’d hamstring the movie by shooting one of the leads out of a cannon and into the hands of a novice who may or may not be able to act her way out of a paper bag. The part calls for subtlety, not the ham-handedness and dramatic stylings of a girl whose experience with the camera extends to knowing when and when not to wink.

Only here’s the thing, it’s not absurd. Like at all. Because enter Cho Miyeon.

She appears in profile first, before pulling a chair out from the table and taking a seat all with the confidence of someone who’d probably be welcome at any table, anytime, anywhere. And almost immediately, you’ve got the answer to those hundred different questions of why. Why a rookie? Why a pop idol? Why ‘princess?’ 

Well, see, on a basic level, she’s fucking breathtaking.

The devil’s in the details if you aren’t disarmed completely at a glance. Dignified, regal, royal, this girl has it all, and then some. Her hair frames her face as though it were in any need of succor, perfectly messed and ash-blonde and tumbling effortless down her shoulders. She flutters her lashes; her lips part, close again in a way that is oddly captivating; and she gets a tilt in her chin that’s worth a thousand words (most of them admittedly, jesus, fuck, and my god). It’s like she not only understands every cliche in the book—but she’s gone out of her way to make them hers. “Miyeon,” she says, voice gentle and saccharine sweet, extending her hand towards you. 

It dawns on you that there’s a certain authority that comes about from saying your own name, even when you know no one has ever needed it—contrast to the way her hand fits in yours, dainty fingers, wrist flawlessly delicate; she’s five-two, arguably five-three in her socks and you’re the one who could crush her. Even so, it’s your mouth that runs dry. You’re catching your breath, and you have to clear your throat to even return the favor.

“I’m a huge fan of your work,” she adds. 

“Oh,” you start, shifting gears, getting ready to lie straight through your teeth, “me as well.” It’s shamelessly performative. And Soyeon knows that. The wince she struggles to hold back from across the table is hard not to notice.

But then so is Miyeon, your eyes trailing down her body like a palpable touch over every curve.

Black mini skirt, pre-torn sheer tights, a pair of knee-high combat boots with a hell of a heel on them, and you’re just realizing you can see how perfectly flat her tummy is, peeking out beneath where the hem of her shirt decides to taper for the betterment of mankind. Ah, you get it, so apparently idols really do dress like that—anything and everything to tell you, keep your eyes on me now.

The feet of your chair scrape loud on the floor as you stand on your feet. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“Alright,” Soyeon tuts as she stabs at her salad, “let’s dial it back.”

It takes two tries to meet her eyes properly, these beautifully dark and dangerous things, but Miyeon just blinks at you, quirks her lips gently into a small smile. And you smile right back, just a little, because maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all.

-

It isn’t anything like the romance Miyeon will later make it out to be. 

Even though sure, you’re both there laughing, blushing and coy—all of it enough to make the characters in the script look even-keeled, something a little more sane. “Please, it’s called chemistry,” you begin crafting excuses toward your agent when Miyeon takes a phone call on the terrace. “I have it with everyone.” And maybe that’s true. Maybe it isn’t. But be careful, there’s nothing noble about what’s going on here. 

“Sorry,” Miyeon apologizes, like she’d ever need to, pulling her chair right up next to yours. “Where were we?”

Just the part where the characters realize everything they’ve ever been looking for is right there in front of them. You spit the pen cap out of your mouth to answer: “the epiphany.”

For what it’s worth, the actual work to be done goes smoother than you expect. Sure, the initial delivery is rough around the edges and in need of a little tender love and care, but that’s far more than what you’d been prepared to give Miyeon credit for.

Not too long after, Miyeon suggests splitting a bottle of wine, something light and sparkling. It goes down easy.

Soyeon figures it’s time to fabricate some way to gracefully exit this whole thing, fingers tapping wildly at her phone, when you and Miyeon start touching each other. It’s subtle at first: she leans over your shoulder when you point something out in the script, pulls back a curtain of blonde hair right back over her ear before brushing up against you, lingers just long enough so that she can flick her eyes up to yours—doesn’t even care to look away whenever you catch her staring. And that’s just what can be seen above the table.

With a coat tucked under her armpit and her belongings all hastily gathered, Soyeon turns her face back over her shoulder one last time; she’s glaring, opening her mouth to say something but decides against it at the last moment. You get the message: don’t sleep with her.

You simply wave her off. Hide your own disappointment that she thinks you’d even need the reminder, because you would never.

“I guess I'm really looking forward to it,” Miyeon says, once the sun’s finished its daily dive into the horizon—once there’s only a mess of papers and empty wine glasses trailing in your wake. 

(The restaurant’s in the middle of whipping itself into shape before a slew of dinner reservations come through. It feels rude to camp out at a table any longer.)

Miyeon turns to you, standing with a hand on her hip like the two of you are neighbors who share a mailbox, and says, “think it could be fun.”

Oh, surely you’ve done a better job at masking a grin. Miyeon picks up on it instantly.

“I’m serious,” she adds, letting the timbre of her voice shift into this juxtaposition of suggestion and naivety that has you doing a double take, mentally. Because the lines in her picture perfect face are so very easy to latch onto—even if you’ve never seen anyone as perfectly sculpted as her, you can’t shake the feeling that all humans ought to come out looking like this—but at the same time, there’s something that lies beneath the surface, something undoubtedly complex, something that quietly chides you for having such untoward thoughts of a subject so innocent and docile.

“I’m not trying to take the air out of your sails or anything,” you say as you guide her through the door, hand pressing at the small of her back, “but these shoots can end up being a lot less enjoyable than they look.” “Of course,” Miyeon says, laughing, because here she is, the rookie, and it’s all very natural for her to appeal to some innate desire in you to come off as the authority on anything—film, stardom, the lack thereof, navigating life as a young pretty thing, the authority you’d discover in bending her over your kitchen counters—to some extent, she has you at least a little figured out. “What I mean is I’m looking forward to working with you.”

You watch her smile slant, shift quietly towards something more suggestive when you slip your coat around her shoulders—it’s a foregone conclusion, not that either of you are willing to look it straight in the face.

What you should have done is grabbed your phone and called her a car; there’s thousands of them in this city. What you should've done is driven home, alone. That’s all it should have been. Just some starlet you charmed for an evening to get your career back in order. Nothing more, nothing more. And instead of getting her for a few months plus change, you get her for life. This should’ve been extra clear when she leaned up against the passenger side door of your car, and found a new angle, something she’d only to that point allow to muse about your idle thoughts:

“And here I was, thinking you were just someone playing a part. Only ever a romantic for the camera.” 

You can’t even say it all happens so fast. 

Not when you take in consideration how you watch Miyeon delicately, slowly, purposefully grab a fistful of your shirt, balling it between her fingers, and begin to twist. This is probably where you’ll start, you think, when you explain it all in a tell-all book long past the age of your youth. Because, oh, what a pleasant surprise. She’s perfect. Flawless. A natural. You can’t keep your eyes away from her, and she’d have it no other way.

“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” you ask, if only to resist the urge to pull her in.

“Well, I suppose I’ve got a few ideas,” she says, and there’s a glimmer at the surface of her eyes, dark and intelligent and flashing with something like danger, something like the worst decision you’ve made in years. And that’s saying a lot. “But I’d like to think you can show me.”

You give her a practiced smile, stretching just right, careful, careless, carefree. Trust me, that smile says. It’s a scene from a movie, one of many. It’s familiar. You’ve been here, with weapons in a caliber all of your own, and Miyeon’s cheeks start to ever-so-perfectly redden, porcelain skin come aflame. 

“You know,” you say, making your voice drawl until Miyeon shuffles her weight between her feet, “if it was up to the writers, I’d kiss you here.”

“If it was up to me,” Miyeon starts, chin up at you like a challenge, “I’d let you.”

The way Miyeon explains it later is that you duck your head and hold your lips next to hers just long enough to let your next breath make her swoon, all before interrupting her with a hungry exhale and an open mouth pressing into hers. A hard, biting kiss that sends shivers down her spine. That you angle your mouths just right so your tongues can slip together, so you might sweep this girl right off her feet and into your arms—if Miyeon has a face that has fantasy written all over it, then so do you, and she says you ought to know what it does it to people. She’ll be half right. 

Only when you lean into her and start filing away those mental notes of how perfect her tiny waist fits in your hands, you pause at the sound of a cricket chirping, a reminder of the neighborhood around you.

“Not out here,” you murmur, casting a wary eye over her shoulder. “Let me take you home.”

Miyeon sniffles, blinks a few times, and nods.

-

Really, it starts with you. A month before you begin shooting, you suffer from a little insanity of your own. Miyeon’s got the second boot only halfway off her foot, lit up in the soft darkness of your foyer, when you take hold of her. 

It’s not like you figured this was your last chance for happiness—swallowing down the gasp that comes off Miyeon’s lips like it were your only shot at tasting heaven—but that’s exactly how you kiss her. Mouth open and hot and heavy against hers. It’s hard to explain, and it doesn’t quite add up; you’ve got your Furies, your own personal pantheon, the girls you’ve most dreamed about and had running through your thoughts—who’d eventually find their way between your sheets in some manner or another, melting in your hands. But somehow, Miyeon’s different, you convince yourself. Or she does rather, starting with her tongue sliding languidly against yours before she decides to bite down on the swell of your lower lip. It hurts. 

She knows it hurts.

“Watch it,” you say, coming off kind of harsh, before you can realize what all is going on here. Before you come to the understanding that she’s untouchable, priceless, that you can’t afford to break her—and that it’s precisely what she wants out of you.

“What?” she asks, the corners of her mouth slanted up ever so slightly. “You’ve got nice lips.”

How you’ll ever be able to forget someone like her, you haven’t a single clue, because Miyeon uncovers and undresses you down right to the bare soul. Your mouths crash again, just enough subdued to keep your teeth from clicking together like you’ve never done this before—like you’re reading her, getting lost in a new paradox: the intrigue of her tongue caressing yours, the familiarity of her thumb rubbing circles into your back. There’s the Miyeon that was cracking wise and sipping wine with you an hour ago, and now there’s this.

“So, how are we doing this?” she asks, breaths wet and heavy as she fidgets with the button on your pants. “How do you want me?” “Well.” You’re sliding a hand up her stomach, across her ribs, until you hit the silky fabric beneath her shirt. “I’m not sure I know what you’re asking here.” “Don’t play dumb.” Miyeon looks you straight in the eye, and she’s close enough that you can count the flecks of gold dancing in her irises. Brows furrowed for a second, she ends up indulging you anyway: “I’m asking how you want to fuck me?”

Every turn in her voice sinks deeper, reels you in further, coaxes you into shoving her to the wall between the door and a coat rack. The way she yelps first in surprise as her back hits the hard surface, whimpering later in delight at the grip your hands make onto her hips, it gives you the sense that she’s flustered, unable to come off as anything beyond embarrassingly forward and drowning in anticipation—

“Miyeon,” you say, slowly, getting a good read on just how much she likes hearing you say her name. That it’ll kill her, you figure, when you’re fucking her with slow, deep, deliberate strokes—once she’s inches within cumming and falling apart and it’s arriving right in her ear. “What do you think?” That lands even more pointed somehow. More dangerous than you could have ever predicted, the charm and practiced charisma in your voice coming out in lethal force: “Maybe, oh let’s see… should I fuck you right here?”

Miyeon starts with her fingertips across your scalp before threading them through your hair. “Well,” she says, teasing the callback, drawing the syllable out as though running it conceptually through her head. “If that isn’t a spectacular idea, I don’t know what is.”

“Yeah,” you murmur into the delicate skin under her jaw, and after lifting off her shirt and tossing it aside, she kisses you with a consuming, needy kind of hunger one more time. Until you’re both just out of breath. “I think so too.” Miyeon dips her fingers into the waist of your pants before anything else. Function of the fact that men’s clothing is so straightforward and predictable, she’s able to shimmy them down off your hips until they hang unceremoniously around your thighs. “Um,” she says, sinking her teeth into her lip a moment, right after curling her fingers around your cock, “you’re like, really hard, you know that?”

“I was going to mention it earlier. You’re kinda my type.”

She leans into you, sighing a little into your neck. “Which is?”

“Oh, you know,” you say nonchalantly. “Pretty. Small. Ruinable. That sort of thing.”

“Right.” With a jerk of her wrist, Miyeon brings your cockhead flush against her stomach—pumps you there leisurely. “Wouldn’t want Soyeon thinking you were planning on ruining me.”

“Quick learner,” you murmur, bunching her skirt up over the rise of her hips.

“Well, we’re really not so different, you and me.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t know what she’s saying—you’re you—storied, seasoned, and only heeding right now to the wail of torn fabric. There’s a hole in her tights already, and your fingers work fast. Rip, tear, threads screeching undone. “I’m curious to hear what all gives you that impression.” 

“The way I see it, we both know what we want,” she says, unashamed, and the sound that escapes her mouth sounds a lot like a hiccup, some little hopeful noise or another, swallowing for air at the touches skating across her underwear, where it’s soaked and hot and begging. “Suppose that’s true.” “Not afraid to go for it either.” She tightens her grip around your cock, squeezing like she’s waiting for you to tell her to stop and running her thumb across your slit. “Won’t settle for anything less than you—”

“A word of advice,” you start, and the authority in your voice makes her melt just a little further in your grip. “From someone who’s not so different… A little flexibility goes a long way, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” It’s smug, the way she says it. Her eyes are heavy, hooded—honing the perfect hue of haughty as she drags her panties to the side. “I’m nothing if not a little flexible.” You bend from your knees, because Miyeon is tiny where she stands, up against drywall with her dainty arms thrown over your shoulders. And in a way, she’s right: you see the parallels, cut from the same cloth, the two strained noises or another buzzing in your throat indistinguishable when you hook your hand around her thigh, raise it, and barely slide yourself inside her, just an inch.

Miyeon’s mouth opens like she’s going to speak, and then hovers there, brows turning and knitting together—something you more than understand, because you’re on the verge of losing your mind too. She’s wet and slick with heat and so fucking inviting that you think the world might end if you don’t bury yourself into her this very second. Not that there isn’t near commensurate satisfaction in drawing out the moment, you fast discover, teasing mercilessly until you can hear Miyeon’s frustration. Her eyes shut tight, and her breath becomes ragged as you allow her another inch—almost keening when you pull back before pushing your cock into her cunt again, fucking her open slowly.

It’s only when you hear her beg please, please, please that you sink all the way in.

And she feels amazing. Tight and hot and clinging, she sleeves onto you like a glove. Immaculate enough to chip away at your positions regarding fate, the ridiculous notion that under the stars there was a girl out there for you, that you’re in orbit with some inevitable conclusion and her name is fucking Cho Miyeon. So outright sinful that you still need a beat to come to terms with it, and you make an effort to voice that: “Fucking hell, Miyeon.”

She lets out a whiny, punched out breath, tilting her chin to the ceiling and revealing the long column of her throat to you like an invitation, though you press your lips to her temple first, the taste of her skin and the sweat aside her brow like wine—sweet and woozy and intoxicating. There’s the rise and fall of her breathing against your chest, your fingers spread out across her creamy skin, and a sudden jerk from her hips, as if to bring you back to the present.

“Oh my god,” Miyeon gasps as your hips are drawn back again. 

Only this time you’ve got the soft cheek of her ass spilling through your fingers. Waning self-control. Even less reservation about pulling her right back onto your cock. And though you’re mostly silent each time you work your entire length back into her, Miyeon is anything but—all these appreciative noises coming from low in her throat.

It might be the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed: the way she darts her tongue out to wet her lips, how her breath hitches when you move, each and every sound she makes as you fuck wildly into her cunt—slamming in, in, in, and you can hear her begin to whimper, feel her caressing the curve of your ass with her… ankle? She tugs on you, grips you, and does whatever she can to keep you deep inside her. As though you’d ever, ever stop.

“I can’t,” Miyeon starts, and it’s nearly comedic—you’d be in fits if you weren’t delicately unraveling this girl in your hands, taking her apart piece by piece, blow by blow. The poise in her voice is gone; what’s left is shattered, unrecognizable mostly. Even those dignified lines in her face start to twist and wobble, threaten to come undone. “Please, I need… oh, please make me cum. I need to cum on your cock.” “Breathe,” you tell her, feeling her slip a little against the wall, puddling further in your grip. It surprises you, the way your words come out like the crush of gravel beneath a boot, and it grips at something within Miyeon too, clues her in on how much she needs you—sucking air in through her teeth and sinking her face into your shoulder. The lines that mark where you end and Miyeon start are quickly eroding, boundary become meaningless. “I know you want to cum, but I need you to breathe for me, Miyeon.”

Her palms are damp with sweat, wrung around the back of your neck, hair sticking to her forehead and darkening in a beam of pale moonlight, not to mention what you hear: harder, faster, more—the needy requests make it sound like she’s almost sobbing. 

“I promise, I promise,” you whisper into her mouth, “I’ll do anything for you. But first, I’m going to use this tight little cunt—gonna make a mess of you.”

Your fingers dig into her soft skin, tighter, tighter; you’ll leave bruises, marks, fingerprints, all this damage she’ll trace back to you—evidence that’ll queue memories like a roll of film, bring her right back to how you have her mewling and moaning at the end of your cock, tears welling on her lashes and mascara running dark beneath her eyes.

 “Fuck,” slips out of her, nearly pouting like it’s your fault, that she’d never curse in front of anyone and here she is, teeth gritted—because, god, she’s all coiled muscle, tightened around your cock and meltdown imminent—you get your fingers under her chin and tilt her head to you.

“Gonna make you beg, Miyeon.”

“I… fuck…” Her voice gets locked up in her throat, choking back on something that turns into a wail when you adjust your angle, hit deeper, fuck harder—“I can’t,” she whispers, “I can’t,” but you keep fucking into her tight hole, nowhere close to letting up.

There’s just something so fascinating about a girl like this, a girl like Miyeon, with a gaze that inspires all this admiration and idolatry. It ought to pierce right through somebody like you and leave you for dead, bring you to your knees, but you’re nothing like she expected; you’re everything she hoped. So instead, as you watch her gasping mouth that was coyly smiling in your favor all afternoon; her small tits spilling forward when you lift up her bra; how she’s slumped back against the wall, relaxed and trusting you implicitly to carry her weight for as long as it takes; the shadowy place where your cock is drenched, glistening and disappearing between her thighs—oh, Jesus, is that a visual—it all clicks in your head: Miyeon is so, so astonishingly submissive. 

Whether it’s the fingers at her throat, or the grip hooking under her thigh, the one thing that’s clear is this: you’re using Miyeon. Fucking her within inches of irrevocably falling apart. You, the hammer; her, the nail—pounding her further into the drywall until she’s quivering and moaning and gasping into your mouth. Oh, the places you’ll pin her. You’re relentless, merciless; it’s the fact that she gets off on it that’ll stick with you. For a long time.

“Gonna make you beg for it, princess,” you amend, lips now pressing into Miyeon’s ear, and she immediately shudders apart.

It’s filthy is the thing: you’re railing the girl with deep, harsh strokes, and Miyeon’s pussy is  writhing in both protest and penury. She’s so creamed you can hear it through all the sounds of skin on skin, the percussive soundtrack of your thighs slamming up into hers. Each squelch, the wet sinful sound of it—it’s how you know your cock is making a total mess of her wrecked cunt. More and more each time it fills her and brings her that much closer to toe-curling-climax. 

Let me, she breathes against you, barely held together. The hand you have under her asscheek is doing most of the heavy lifting. “Please let me cum, please, please, please let me fucking cum all over this cock, I need to cum on this perfect cock, oh my god—”

When Miyeon finally turns up at you, she’s biting down on her bottom lip again. Her head tilts a bit, something deep and pleading in those big, brown eyes, and it almost, almost makes you feel guilty. Nearly ashamed that this delicate little thing had fallen into your lap and your knee-jerk reaction was to fuck her so hard she started to wail, cracking at the seams.

“Your cock,” she blurts out, breath jagged and uneven, “is amazing. You are—”

Like you said, almost. 

“—amazing.”

There’s nothing you can say to that, is there?

“Again… want to… again…” she demands of you, like she’s in any position to be making any. Her hands are all over you, finally undressing you, and all things considered, you don’t have the heart to tell her no. You’re hoping that never becomes a problem.

Miyeon scoops up easily enough into your arms after her orgasm had knocked the architecture right out of her legs, wobbling against the wall and almost sliding to the floor. And It all plays out again, just minutes later, after you set her on a barstool in your kitchen and slip back inside her. Sure, it’s a different setting, but you recognize it for what it is: the same story, with the same characters and the same ending, the one where you’ve got your cock fucking hard and fast into her cunt.

“Fucking, oh my god…” she rasps, just a waving white flag short of total surrender. “You’re going to make me fucking cum again. Yes, yes, yes—”

Until everything seemingly comes undone at once. And it quickly turns into stuttering cries of please and fuck and need it and all sorts of things you’ll have to promise you never heard, filth unfitting for a perfect mouth like Miyeon’s—the one now curving into that unforgettable shape while she chokes back on moans and mewls. It hits her like a brick, and her head rolls back as she groans, furrowing her brows and screwing her eyes shut.

You tell yourself it’s the fact that she’s so sweet, so docile, and all at the flick of a switch. Just moments after you’ve bottomed out in her pussy—after you’ve sent her higher and higher to where she’s reduced to nothing like the royalty everyone expects of her: needy, begging. 

It’s whiplash really, from callous and cruel to caring and soft in a matter of seconds. Your foreheads come together while you catch your breath. That’s an image all in itself. And when she laughs slightly, there are the quiet tremors, the spasms of her diaphragm clenching around you. It’s hard to tell what’s going through her head, before she covers the exhausted huffs out of your mouth with a kiss that lives in the gray area between sweet and harsh and consuming. Fuck. You’d stay here forever.

(Forever ends up being a hell of a lot shorter than you expect. Because Miyeon takes to cumming on your cock like water takes to paper.)

“Wanna ride,” she tells you, breath having caught up to her and wiping sweat from her brow—something like an inciting incident, taking the two of you all the way to the living room. 

She doesn’t outright tell you that she wants you to just hold her down and fucking use her, but she doesn’t last long on top of you either, leaning back from your lap with her hands hooked around your neck and dragging you forward, until you’re once again spilling over her, pounding her hot, sopping cunt like she needs. 

You’re cautious, usually—responsible. It isn’t like you, really. The excuse you’ll settle into later is that Miyeon’s cunt is impossibly vice-tight when you make her cum a third time. She’s in the midst of being swallowed up in the cushions of your sofa, the soles of her cute little feet pointed skyward, knees folded to her shoulders and pressed under your weight while you make sure she’s well fucked through the apex of it all.

“Good girl,” you tell her—the praise cutting straight to her final lifelines, tearing them to ribbons and leaving them for dead—and you’re shifting the angle, the depth to try and get her to scream the exact same way she did the first time. “Go ahead Miyeon—cum for me, princess. You’re going to fucking cum all over this cock again.”

And she does. Hard.

Quivering. Squirming even, she comes apart, fucked deep and hard into the springs of a chaise lounge and leaving stains on leather that won’t ever quite go away. Though it doesn’t manage to arrive with anything like an announcement, as it had before, heralded by curses and the elegant simplicity of meekly choking out the word cumming through a fit of gasps and hiccups. Her voice now is so fragmented, so utterly debauched and ruined, that she only manages to husk out a pathetic whine.

“So fucking pretty, Miyeon,” you rasp, watching the blush sear right across her nose, “so gorgeous when you cum for me. And god, this fucking pussy…”

The hands on the clock spin out, numbers running forward and back, and you’re long past the point of temperance. Each stroke in and out of Miyeon’s tight, throbbing, well-fucked cunt twists further at the knot in your stomach, the edge of your own, eager to indulge your fair share of recklessness: “Miyeon, sweetheart, I’m gonna cum.”

Miyeon understands immediately. She’s whimpering, nodding, sinking her fingers into your back—it’s not even a question. “Inside me,” she repeats, several times, until you’re hilted completely in her pussy. It’s hot, sweltering, perfect, and you can’t bring yourself to care that you’re pressing a handprint into her thigh so hard that it hurts. That the sounds leaking out of your throat aren’t anything particularly becoming or that you’re fucking your cum deeper into her cunt with each waning thrust or that you’re not sure if you ever had a better fuck.

“Fuck,” you groan, slumping on top of her petite frame once you’re completely finished. So thoroughly milked and drained.

Miyeon brings her small hands up and cups your face. Just stares like you’ve got something stuck to it. Her gaze drops to your lips—and you’re left thinking for a moment that she’s going to kiss you again, though it never does arrive.

“Hey,” you say finally, panting. Both of you are heaving restless. Everytime her chest rises into you, you’re acutely aware of how her small breasts feel against you, her heart still racing as your softening cock is still warm inside her. “You’re staring.”

“Well, I was going to mention it earlier,” she starts, fluttering her lashes and pressing her lips to the crook of your neck, “but you’re kinda my type too.”

-

The least unusual thing happens.

And if you end up thinking for even a moment that Miyeon is being sincere when she suggests you exchange numbers, you haven’t been paying attention. “You know,” she says, sitting in your lap and tapping her number into your phone, “for work.”

“Ah, of course,” you answer, willing to be fooled, if only just a little, “for work.” 

- Narratively, it’s all out of order: the banal text messages, the playful back and forth, the coy innuendos, the precarious game of being interested without asking too many questions. Both of you are quite content to play your cards close to your chest as though she doesn't know how good your fingers feel in her cunt or that you’re somehow not aware of the small freckle on the seam of her pelvis, another on the inside of her left thigh. That’s just how it goes. But it’s fine, you figure. Especially when you compare it to the alternative: of taking things too fast and careening straight off a cliff. To where, historically, you've burned up in a violent supernova of messy hookups and drunk calls and regrets you’ll carry with you into the next life.

A nice change of pace, if nothing else.And it’s hardly anything unusual either, or at least until you’re standing in the grocery checkout line a few days later. Miyeon decides enough with all that about the rules of engagement. She’s going to call you:

“I was planning on swinging by in a bit to grab my watch,” she starts, and you can make out another voice, maybe a friend? A roommate? in the background of the call, getting shh’d by Miyeon before she continues, “I left it in your bathroom. I think. Maybe on the bedside table.”

“Yeah, I was going back and forth on deciding whether that was purposeful or not.” “Accidental. I swear.”

“Still a little convenient though, isn’t it?” “Nothing convenient about not having my watch.” She laughs out loud. Maybe it’s a bit of vanity on your part to make assumptions, but you’ve got her pieced together, at least a little. Everyone else already reveres and adores her—it’s the fact that you’ll level with her, that she loves a proper challenge.

“Well, I won’t be back for quite a bit. I’m running a few errands.” You smile at the lady at the register. She’s halfway into figuring out who you are.

“Why don’t you do me a favor then… bring it with you to the press event on Friday?”

“Now that’s a surprise,” you tell her. “I’d figure you’d take the chance at face value, to get yourself back over to my place either way.”

“Look, if you’re going to make me need an excuse to sleep with you… let’s put our heads together and come up with something later.”

Oh, of course. Let’s, she says, really leaning into the plurality of it, hoping it’s something you can get used to. And given the fact you figure that Cho Miyeon has never been hard pressed to be anyone’s favorite anything, she is incredibly optimistic you’ll see just how sweet of a deal that all is. You’re answering the woman behind the register first: “paper bags are fine.”

“Are you at the grocery?”

“I am.”

“Sounds fun.” she says, after a considerable pause—the length of which tells you she’d rather dip into the mundane with you than hang up. “What’d you get?” “Breakfast cereal, bananas,” you tell her, staring straight into the conversational deadend. If only you knew any writers. You clear your throat, but Miyeon beats you to it, pulling the emergency ripcord: “What would you do if I was there with you?”

“Dunno,” you start, “take you to the bathroom maybe. Go down on you until you cum.”

At this point the cashier has put it all together. She recognizes you, and is unsure whether to be shocked or disgusted or what, so she just hands you your receipt as you shoot your near-award-winning smile back at her and gather your things.

Miyeon laughs. “Has anyone ever told you you’re horrendous at phone sex?”

“I’ve never had phone sex,” you tell her, “seems like a waste of time when you could be instead, you know–”

“Okay,” she interrupts you, “first off, it’s like the first rule in the geneva convention of phone sex: you’re supposed to ask me what I’m wearing. And just for your information, I’m wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt.”

“What color?”

“Yikes. So bad at this; you’re supposed to tell me to start taking it off. It’s a gray shirt, the pants are blue. What are you wearing?”

“A pair of khakis. And a sweater.” “Great. Take them off, slowly.” “Miyeon, I’m in the middle of a parking lot.”

“Okay prude, then you tell me what to do.”

You end up listening to Miyeon from the front seat of your car for almost half the hour. There’s a wistful hum from the other end of the phone every time you tell her what to do with her hand, walk her through every area of her body you want her to touch and how. You let her know about the finger you’re tracing over your own pants and she can’t help but let a soft noise out at the thought of it.

“If you invited me over for dinner right now,” she says after she cums, slightly out of breath, “I wouldn’t say no.”

You stifle a laugh. It’s folklore at this point, but there’s wisdom in it surely, so you’ll lean into that old rite of passage and play hard to get. Love is all about the complications, all the ways it can go wrong: endless rules and customs to observe, obstacles you’re determined to put in the way.

“Oh princess,” you start, knowing exactly how it’ll land in her ear, what it’ll do to her. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

-

The press event itself is simple and straightforward. There’s only ever going to be a singular moment during a movie’s production where no one in the cast wants to murder someone else and it’s in that brief period of time before filming starts. So grab onto that by the horns and show the media what a fun time this is all going to be. Go team, go. 

It’s the same series of questions as always: how did this cast come together, what do you think of the scripts, how is this going to be a challenge for you, what are you looking forward to, etc.

You’ve been through this song and dance enough times now to keep your answers evasive and beguiling, because at the end of the day, it’s the most productive way to do anything in this industry. It’s routine. It’s practiced. But the thing you notice almost right away, is just how infatuated the press is with the girl at the end of the table, how they heel almost immediately to her every gesture, the way Miyeon answers questions all with the confidence of someone’s who’s been at it for ages, but with the doe-eyed blinking naivety of a starlet ready to bare it all. You have to consider that part of the reason the media ends up so hot on Miyeon’s trail is all that god-given wit and charisma and charm. She’ll make fun of herself and her group mates and her co-stars and the staff, and she’ll tease the press and give them shit in a way that makes you feel as though there’s this cool, gorgeous, very important girl who’s noticing you and liking you enough to give you shit. Then sometimes she’ll wink for no reason at all, or she’ll get that flip of her hair over her shoulder just right that you think to yourself: wow, that’s an idol.

It doesn't mean a whole lot to you now, though you’ll be wringing your wrists about it later, but the takeaway here is this: Miyeon is universally loved. Full stop.

Please root for me, she says, again and again. All the stuff she’s supposed to say. I’ll do my best to make everyone happy. And she looks down the table, right at you, when she says: “My co-stars are all so wonderful and I’m so lucky to have them here with me, I’ll go ahead and thank them in advance for taking such good care of me.”

-

The press release is worth nothing to anyone with only the opinions of a bunch of attractive people paid to be on television. What it needs is photos. Specifically the ones where Miyeon hangs off your arm like you two are just a little bit more than meets the eye.

Sex sells. Suggestion is priceless.

So you’re standing there, grinning, wide and open, practiced and sure, toward the army of photographers. You look good. You know you look good. You’d know you look good even if Soyeon hadn’t crossed paths with you behind the stage just a few minutes ago and said, “wow, you look hot,” and “if I was any bit straight, I’d bang you right here.” Though it definitely helped. The exact shade of charcoal on your suit jacket is engineered to make your skin glow, and your hair is coiffed just right so that it sits effortless. You didn’t grow up imagining you’d have hairdressers or a stylist or for god sakes ever be wearing tailor-fit suits that cost someone else a fortune, but that’s how this all works. A rag-tag militia dedicated to making it look both like you’d just rolled out of bed and that’s only how things were ever meant to be—it’s your whole deal, all with the comprehensive appeal of a mischievous smile. The first flash, and you can feel your whole soul dilate in response. Hey! Look over here for me. Click. Click. Click. Raise your chin—hands at your sides—hold that for me—perfect. Click. Click. Click. It’s calming in a way. All the piercing lights, the clattering of camera shutters. The feeling that never grows stale is seeped in the familiarity of it all; your roots are here. It’s home. And there’s something unique about the blur of lights, something hard to put your finger on exactly, that it feels like the perfect backdrop to just zone out in. And the fact that you can’t really hear those anxious, gnawing thoughts in your head over all the shouting, the chattering, the commotion—boy, that feels good too. Though what you can hear is all the cameras turn, in unison. Something like a premonition.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen Cho Miyeon. You know how she looks in and out of her underwear, the way her blonde hair sits on her porcelain shoulders, how she’s all curves and pointed angles in the right places; you’ve seen her up close. Hell, she’d already taken your breath away, which in some regards is completely unfair, now considering that you haven’t any more breath to give. 

She doesn’t care; she’ll leave you asphyxiated, with a smile. Perfectly. It makes it feel like every smile you’ve seen before are just failed attempts. Like this is the real deal. Click. Click. Click.

The thing that has you lost for words is that it’s hard to know where exactly to start. Not only is Miyeon drop dead gorgeous, but here she is, pretending that she’s finding all that out for the very first time, blush burning across her cheeks like she’s not used to the attention. Her hair is pinned up, delicately placed into a perfect bun, wispy blonde strands falling aside her ears. And a pair of long, dangling earrings reflect the camera flashes aimed in her direction, scattering the light in every which way. Then it’s the fucking dress: it’s skintight, champagne, which is a good color on anyone, spectacular on her. You can’t let your eyes dip down all the way through the plunging neckline or you’d be staring at her midriff and thinking just how badly you want to undo the whole thing; pull gently on the tie at the back and let it all slump to the floor; get on top of her and have her cursing. Make her hot and flustered and moaning your name until you shoot a hot load all over that fucking tummy. Jesus. Fuck.

“Hey stranger,” she says, with restrained delivery, still smiling at the wall of flashing lights as she hooks her hand under your elbow.

“You’re late.” Maybe—just maybe—if you can somehow manage to find anything to be at fault, you can keep your thoughts as innocent as her doe-eyed countenance. She tilts her head, pulls back her soft, sweeping hair over one shoulder, and when she gets her eyes on you… god, it’s a tall order.

“Do you have any idea?” she asks, starting in half sentences because there’s not a lot of time between poses. Everyone’s looking at her, looking at the combined-unit, the you-and-her, and demanding more. “Just how hard it is to slip into something like this? I swear to god, I think I’m still holding that first breath.”

“Hey,” you whisper, clasping your fingers together. “You look great.”

“Of course I do.” Her other hand is at your waist, gentle and misleading, much like the rest of her. “Just about any girl would look good next to you.”

Falling is just not the correct term, to be precise. Too clumsy. Hardly does what’s going on here any justice. This is a meticulous process wherein Miyeon delicately binds and traps your heart into love—maybe even the platonic ideal of the femme fatale, and you’ll take twenty, thirty paces into quicksand before you realize you’re trapped, waist deep, unable to move, totally and proper fucked.

“Here,” she says, tugging gently on your arm until you’re hunched over slightly, ear sitting perfectly at her lips where they begin to part, whispering: “This will drive them crazy. Just this little private conversation. They’ll be guessing what I’m telling you here, right now, for weeks.”

You laugh as you watch everyone with a camera scoot to the edge of their seats, expecting something unexpected. On the off chance they’ll get lucky and catch the shape of that murmur out your mouth: “And what exactly is it that you’re telling me here?” “I’m curious,” she starts, “how bad do you think I want you right now?”

Oh. You register your whole body shifting its weight onto the other foot. Twice, the muscles in your legs tensing when she wets her lips with her tongue. A problem, maybe. Your eyes dart about because you’re in front of all these witnesses, and the instinctual urge from somewhere deep and unruly in your head amounts to something like a death wish: to get your hands on her in public, to throw caution to the wind and let her have access to you under all this scrutiny. It’s automatic; you’re leaning back on old habits; humor’s never failed a face like yours. “What, like on a scale of one to ten?”

She leans back, takes both your hands in hers and just grins. “I heard there’s sort of an afterparty later. You going?”

You swallow, collect yourself. “I am.”

“Yeah?” Miyeon’s lip pulls up at the corner, smirk cocked, ready to fire, and her eyes are sparkling, literally; every flash of a camera fills her dark irises with a sharp glister of gold. It’s actually kind of mesmerizing. “Me too.”

“Maybe I'll see you there,” you tell her, leading her to the stage exit.

“Hm, maybe,” she says, and she rubs a few circles into the back of your knuckles. “Though it’d be a sure thing if we go together, wouldn’t it?”

-

Truth be told, you never make it to the afterparty. You get sidetracked. You get distracted.

“Feels so good, oh my god.” Miyeon’s jaw clenches, teeth together so tight you can feel her body tense up. “So deep, so good, so, fuck—”

What Miyeon is ultimately trying to do in the backseat of your car is ride you hard and fast to the point where she’s mixing up her words, gasping for air, and blathering filth and obscenity from her pretty lips. Until her legs lock up and her eyes shut tight before cumming all over your waist. So yeah, the charcoal slacks end up being a little fortuitous.

She bucks into you hard, holding her weight with two hands on your chest, though she can’t bounce up and down on your cock like she’d much prefer. The way her clit rubs against you as she ruts into your hips like a wild animal feels awesome, even better for her, you reckon, but that’s no substitute for the heavensent sensation she gets running down her spine when you fill her starved cunt repeatedly with long, deep strokes. It’s cramped and awkward and your knees and elbows knock and scrape and she’s taking that frustration out on you. As best she can without hitting her head on the ceiling of the car.

You can certainly appreciate the irony of it. Because you’ve got the poster girl for a disney princess in a state of half-dress (half-undress? under duress? it’s not entirely clear), the champagne hem of that dignified gown bunched up around her hips, furling in supplication, and she’s fucking you in pretty much the least elegant fashion possible.

“God dammit,” she spits out before sinking her teeth into her lower lip, as you offer to help her grind on top of you with two handprints sunk firm into the round of her tight little ass.

It’s clumsy and uncouth, though still, riding you amounts to a religious experience for Miyeon, given the way her cunt is quivering, torrentially wet, and so, so, so hot. Clenching on you in something like worship, in adoration. She should probably be more embarrassed about some of the noises she’s making. They’re high-pitched, whining, desperate even. You can’t quite hear what she’s saying—not over the hollow echo of your sex through the small cabin of the car—but there are only so many iterations of, oh my god, please, fuck, faster, harder, need it, right there, faster, I, ah, ohmygod.

“Baby,” you whisper, wrapping an arm around Miyeon's waist and sinking you both further into the seat. “Fuck, I cannot believe this pussy; you’re so tight, fuck—”

She’s still smiling, though it’s absolutely devilish. Maybe that’s the praise she lives for. Everyone’s already telling her she’s gorgeous, that she’s talented, that she's beautiful inside and out, but she just simply can’t get enough of it: how you’ll slap her ass so hard she yelps and growl against her throat, cum in her cunt and tell her she’s perfect.“Want your cum, baby,” she murmurs, cheeks aflame, lips again parting open, “I want to watch you cum in me.”

“Miyeon,” you groan, “such a good fucking girl for me,” and she just nods, like a fantasy come to life.

She lifts herself up again. Comes crashing down. Good fucking god. Every little roll of her hips is a touch more agonizing than the last; she feels so fucking incredible around you that it all betokens danger. You’re buried so deep inside her that if let go of the breath you’re holding you would drown in the heat of her cunt, the velvety touch of her skin, the fact that she smells fucking amazing—all worked up and starting to sweat.

“Can you?” she asks, propping up the tall heel of her shoe onto the seat and trying to ride up and down your shaft just a bit faster, a little harder. You pull at her dress again, twisting it in your hand until you can see where your cock disappears between the creases of her thighs and into the warm embrace of her cunt. She’s fucking you reckless and sucking sharp gasps of air past her teeth, asking, “do you think you can cum like this?”

“You want me to finish in your pussy that bad, Miyeon?” you ask, shifting slightly in the space beneath her. “Want it so much, want to feel it,” she starts to pant, words disappearing in wet exhalation every time her thighs come spilling onto yours. “Want to feel your cock throb in my pussy, want to feel you fill me up.”

Even accounting for the fact that she’s so small on top of you and even easier to manipulate with nothing more than the firm grasp you have on her waist, it’s a whole ordeal to maneuver about the cramped backseat. Especially considering Miyeon would rather die than feel your cock leave her cunt. She lets out a needy whine, like you’ve done her some sort of injustice, when you find a hand under her shoulder and start to move. “Please…” she groans, grabbing desperately at the collar of your shirt. Searching hard for the unrealized potential of the tie around your neck.

You twist and turn, slide and shimmy until you’ve got Miyeon’s arms pinned behind her back, wrists trapped in your fingers and her svelte frame arching into you. It’s a little precarious, and it takes a few tries to find any sort of rhythm—holding her in place and gliding up into where she’s soaked and aching—but the moment you start slipping your cock up into her cunt, it dawns on you: you can absolutely cum like this. She’s so mind-numbingly tight, so hot, so easy to use; it’s not a challenge. Not in the slightest.

“Oh my god.” She cuts off those incredible noises, breath hitching in her throat. She doesn’t have an inkling of how to react; there’s no way around it. Not when you’re fucking her—truly fucking her—within an inch of her life and pulling her small body down onto your cock harder, faster, faster. Again, again.

Miyeon’s hair is the first thing begging to be ruined. Delicately fixed and pristinely manicured. Gentle waves tumbling over her shoulder as you trace your fingers up the curve of her spine, knead at the back of her neck, and thread into a handful of those ash-blonde locks. 

“Fuck.” Her whole body melts into you, and her voice is seeped in lust and need and want: “right there, right there, right there—”

Your fingers tighten in her hair, grip, pull. 

“Feel good?” you whisper into her neck, all this soft pale skin begging for a press of your lips.

“It feels—I, fuck.” Miyeon just stutters, eyes watering and chest heaving through all these incoherent breaths as you drive her to silence. Fuck her to submission.

“Princess,” you start, bringing your other hand up to her cheek. It’s the small details that truly send her: the thumb wiping away at the small tears on her long lashes, how you tuck a few misplaced wisps of golden hair behind her ear, dominance soft and doting—it’s not just the fact that you’ll pull her apart; it’s that you’re the one putting her back together. That’ll never be a secret she keeps from you, you figure, because she’s reduced to a whimpering, shuddering mess when you take her lips softly in yours. A chaste, gentle, unscripted kiss. Unbecoming of the reality that has you currently fucking raw and senseless into her creaming cunt.

“Tell me what you want, Miyeon.”

Sure, you’ve got in your hands the script of sin and innocence, and you’ll settle into an assigned part, a role to play. Though to be truthful, you just simply can’t help yourself. She’s delightful. The whispers out your mouth sink once more against her skin, sweaty and red and hot to the touch. She whines like your words cut right to the bone, lethal. Your hips come up, hilting deep in her cunt, and it’s enough to shake an earring loose and into the depths between the seats; you’ll spend a literal lifetime looking for it later. Her breath hitches, regressing to huffs and sharp draws of air when you drag your cock just along the right spot, apparently.

“Please, please, please,” she begs finally, sputtering with the waning energy of air escaping a balloon.

“I want to know what you need from me,” you tell her, letting your voice come out in such tantalizing fashion that it’s the kind of thing that could coerce the truth out of anyone.

“You,” she rasps, “all of you.”

How quick she turns to putty, muscles softening and tensing all at once. And you’re generously allowing her to take more, capitulating to her pleas of right there and harder please, pushing in as deep as you’ll go. You soothe her when she shudders and quakes—just a broad hand at her back—helping her adjust to you.

“Shit, Miyeon, you look perfect like this,” you mutter, watching the small tears that come from the corners of her hooded eyes. “Can’t get over how gorgeous you look taking me.”

Those small hums and moans leaving through closed lips are all she can muster. She clutches ahold of you even tighter, feeling the sharp bloom of everything trickle closer and closer like a dam about to break.

“Is that what you like to hear, princess?” you ask, fucking her right through her own orgasm and realizing it’s hopeless; you’re going to fall in love again and again with that pink stain in her cheeks. “Do you want to be my cumslut? Let me use your pussy whenever I want. You’re so tight and wet for me, Miyeon. You want my cock all the time, don’t you?” 

Some of it—maybe all of it—hits hard. She starts to shake. You’re fucking her cunt, steady and resolute, even as she fucking collapses, and her lips part like she’s going to wail, though never makes a sound.

“Words,” you order, breathless. “Oh…” It’s slow at first, that steady stream of fuck and please spilling out of her—curses flowing as easily as the air she breathes. You’ve got her at your complete control, a seeming extension of your will, and she presses her forehead to yours, gasping, “want to feel you fucking cum in me. Please do it, do it, I need to feel you, I want your fucking cum in me so bad. Please, please, please fucking make me yours. Do it, need you to use this little pussy and cum.”

You’re deep inside Miyeon, clutching hard around her waist and pulling down on it as you vault over the proverbial edge. Breathing heavy into her chest as you fuck all this hot cum into her cunt. She keeps rolling her hips, slowly, as if by instinct, to ride everything out of you, until you’re yanked back to the here and now.

“Oh my god,” she coos. Because it’d be impossible to not notice, leaking out of her and onto her thighs. 

“Miyeon.” The next sound that comes out of you is near indescribable: gravelly and plucked from deep in your throat. 

“So, so much for me,” she adds with a hint of exultation, running her fingers through your hair. 

Some part of you expected her to perhaps be more resilient, put up some semblence of a fight, but this is Miyeon, you realize—the roughness in your voice, the gentle touch of your fingers, the severity of an open palm, your lips at her throat—she loves it. Her hands are soon again cupping at your face, tongue reaching into your mouth. And she shudders at the way your cock slides out of her pussy.

“Messy,” you murmur into her kiss, quietly, and you hear her swallow when you skate your finger over her hips and down her stomach, tracing gently at the place you were pressed together, thoroughly covered in your cum, her slick.

“Uh.” Miyeon makes a face. Wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”

“Oh please,” you say as she cuddles up to you as far as the backseat of your car will allow. “You know you love it.”

-

Here’s the thing you fail to realize about a girl like her, a girl like Miyeon:

She’s more than just the physical, than the sum of her parts. She’s a feeling.

Oh, there’s plenty about the ways you touch her, the way her hand fits into yours, her hair running silky smooth between your fingers—how you can leave bruises on her thighs and marks on her neck, or reduce her to a whimpering mess with nothing but a firm grip. She laughs and it’s something that moves you to your core. She’s easy to admire from afar. And even easier up close, where you can appreciate the mastery in those brushstrokes.

But pay attention to how your blood drains from your cheeks, how the world stutters on its axis when you look at her. Because you can’t help but feel like you’re living life the way it’s portrayed in fiction when you do. Like you’re slipping into a world where no matter how insurmountable the odds, the good guy always wins.

-

“It’s all bullshit, that’s what it is,” someone is telling you with an almost unsettling confidence, even though their voice is shaky and ever-so-slurred with drink.

You’re sitting there, slightly listless, on one of the stools at a four-top, busy zoning out at the neon smirnoff sign behind the bartender like it might move if you look away for even a second. Your fingers are tapping on the table, and the fact that you can’t taste the kick in your heavily doctored gin and tonic means you’re already drunk. Probably. You’ll have to thank Miyeon later.

“Hey,” the someone starts again, “are you even listening to me?” It’s a little deep, raspy, but it sounds like it belongs to a girl.

No, you think.

“Sorry,” you say after blinking a few times and pulling yourself away from the sign. The girl sitting next to you frowns. “Have we met?”

“Yuqi,” Miyeon says, handing her a beer and setting her own drink down on the table. It’s pink and full of ice and in a ridiculous looking piece of glassware.

It goes without saying that you couldn’t show up to the main event—late, attached at the hip, and with Miyeon’s hair all disheveled and half-repaired like you two were fucking in secrecy—so Miyeon pitches the idea to you while you’re in the middle of wiping cum off your pants with napkins from the glove compartment: If you’re interested, there’s a bar nearby. My friends are there, it’s quiet but it’s nothing too pretentious.

“And you met Sana earlier,” Miyeon adds, lifting her chin in the direction toward the girl buried in her phone, tapping away furiously at a series of text messages—the way she hasn’t looked up in minutes and how her drink is nearly untouched implies some sort of drama. 

It’s kinda weird—you’re realizing you might have a type: they’re all some sort of blonde. Shockingly easy to look at too. With bodies that could fill a nighttime of fantasy, and supposedly somehow they’re best friends? Look, you’ve never seen two pretty best friends; it grinds against cosmic law, ain’t one of them supposed to be not so pretty? (Though maybe the rules are different when you land on odd numbers? If it isn’t all a little perplexing.)

“Know each other from work,” Miyeon explains, holding her hair back from her face and barely touching her lips to the rim of her glass.

“Uh.” Yuqi pops the top of the bottle off against the side of the table. “And we live together.” “Roommates?” you ask, carefully trying to keep your tone from sounding judgemental, and Miyeon gives you a solemn nod. There’ll be time to pry later.

“Look,” Sana says, only after finally putting her phone face down in front of her. There’s a story there. Maybe you’ll hear the end of it. “I’m not saying I’m proud of this attitude, okay, but that’s the truth: I make judgments based on what drink people order.” 

She fixes her eyes on you, and god, she’s gorgeous. It’s a different kind of beauty, a lot less subtle, way more in your face, and she knows she can get away with it. (Though it’s the patented hundred-megawatt smile of hers that’ll stick with you.)

“Like if you were drinking a cosmo or whatever the hell it is Miyeon’s got—”

“What?” Yuqi scoffs, and her eyebrow turns when she sees Miyeon wrap her arm around yours. “And just like that he’s not sexy or sophisticated, smart or virile? Is that it?” “I suppose…” Sana twists her lip between her teeth. “Maybe it’s context?”

“No, that makes sense,” you say, and you dab at a ring of condensation on the table with a bar napkin. “Like I wouldn’t hesitate to take a cosmo if I was stranded in an airport in February and the planes are getting de-iced and the pilots are deciding whether to take off or go home.”

“I’d order a double,” Miyeon says, and you swear she’s closer to you each time you check.

“So then tell us, what’s the quintessential manly drink then?” Yuqi asks, skeptical, and a little disappointed to even be entertaining the question. “If pink cosmos are on one end of the spectrum…” “Dunno.” Sana crosses her legs, and rubs at her chin. “I suppose anything that comes in one of those squat, burly glasses.”

“The kind that real men hurl across the bar at another man’s head,” you deadpan.

“Oh my god.” Sana springs forward in her seat, and her gaze pins you to where you’re sitting. “You get it. Do I know you from somewhere? I swear you’ve got a face that’s familiar.” “Maybe I just got one of those faces,” you tell her, and Miyeon squeezes her fingers gently around your knee. 

“Maybe.” Sana tilts her head, letting out a mostly unentertained chuckle, dry and humorless. You can see the gears slowly churning in her head.

Yuqi’s got her bottle turned up nearly perpendicular to the ceiling, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand—it’s all oddly charming—and she just lets out a wistful sigh. “Someone should make a movie, an old western maybe, where someone flings an oversized martini glass. You could start a movement.”

You’re not really thinking about anything in particular when the conversation ebbs and flows, except that you’re content; buzzed with the bitters in your drink; and the ephemeral touches of the hand in your lap, gentle, curious, teasing. There’s something laid back about being in Miyeon’s company that draws you in, something effortless, like the world seems less maliciously unfriendly, even if she ends up managing to embarrass you in a game of billiards. She finds the table at the end of the bar and readies a flip comment while rubbing chalk into the end of a pool cue. You watch as it leaves white streaks all over her chic dress, and you’re kind of enamored by the fact she doesn’t seem to care. “You’re sure you’ve played before?” she ribs, pulling a hairpin from her clutch, and clipping it to the hair at one temple to keep it from interfering with her game.

“Aren’t you a wealth of talents,” you say, in admiration.

“Do you mean, appearances can be deceiving?” she asks while sizing up a shot, grins—a smile that suggests mischief, which is normal, except that this one invites you to be part of it. “I think you might be putting words in my mouth.” 

“Oh,” she says, and with her lovely, slender, fingers pressing onto the green baize, she sockets three shots in a row. Misses on the fourth. “So now you don’t like me putting things in your mouth, is that it?”

“Hm,” you say, ignoring the obvious bait and lining up a shot. “This is going to be a weird question.”

Miyeon drops her arm and tilts her head quizzically. 

“What do you think of the script?” 

“The one that has us heartbroken and lost and wandering until we rediscover love is right where we left it?” 

“That’s the one.”

Miyeon covers her mouth to laugh when you take your shot and it misses in such grand fashion that you can’t help but hang your head. “It’s the dress shirt,” she says to comfort you.

“I’ll take what pity I can get.”

You’re watching Miyeon in action—hair carefully swept back, earrings sparkling, and heels set firmly on the floor—all together rather enchanting. She makes several more shots, aimed with perfect precision and seriousness, before finally answering you: “dunno, seems a little psychotic.”

“I mean that’s the thing about romance,” you begin, “there’d be no story if the writers weren’t at least a little psychotic.”

“Oh by the way.” Yuqi’s voice booms at that moment, with all the subtlety of a bulldozer: “I’ve gotta take Sana home. She’s late to getting plowed by her new manager. I’ll catch you later.”

“That isn’t—” Sana huffs, pinches at the bridge of her nose, and stops herself short, before reapproaching it in a more bracing way. “I’m telling you he gets all worked up whenever I’m out drinking this late.” 

“Worked up, huh?” Yuqi grins at a parody of a smile, and turns to you, laughing. “That’s how she likes him.”

“Yuqi,” Sana groans.

Miyeon rests her cue up on the table and crosses her arms, smirking in your direction. “Life imitates art, right?

-

“You’ve got a girl here, don’t you?” Minnie asks, at nine in the morning and standing in your living room. It reminds you of the fact that you have a meeting on your calendar on today’s date between you and your agency’s lawyer at nine in the morning.

She's not some expert sleuth. At least, not as far as you're aware. It could be one of any number of things that tips her off: Miyeon’s heels are in your foyer, her champagne dress folded neatly over the back of your couch, or maybe it’s the pair of underwear that landed perfectly on the corner of your television. What it is not, however, is the reddening outline of Miyeon’s lips on your Adam's apple; you’re doing a pretty good job of coyly covering that up with your palm.

“I mean yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

“I don’t know if you could’ve answered that more ominously.” Minnie laughs, shuffling past where you stand in the door frame and setting her bag down on your kitchen island, surveying the mess in your apartment. She stands before you, wearing all black and looking down her nose at you.

(She’d pretty much cornered the market on wearing all black and looking down her nose at you, and you always take a moment to marvel that anyone could live on the earth only twenty-some odd years and manage to wear all black and look down their nose at you with such timeless self-assurance.)

“If you need her to sign an NDA, I’ll have to swing back by the office to pick up the proper paperwork.” “I don’t need her to sign an NDA,” you say, turning on water from the faucet and filling a kettle. The hand you have running through your hair helps you remember that you are still very poorly put together: a mess of bedhead, t-shirt, underwear, and only a singular sock to your name. Not that it matters, you suppose. Minnie’s seen you worse.

“Wow. Things must be getting serious, huh.” Minnie drums her fingers on the counter. “Well whatever it is, I’ve got stuff for you to sign.”

“I thought we walked through all the contract boilerplate already.” “We did.” “And?” “Contracts change.” The pen she has in her fingers, scanning over a stack of papers, is poised. Her slow nod studious, blandly puzzled. “That’s why you need me.”

“Now if that isn’t an unfortunate truth,” you say, and Minnie raises an eyebrow. “Good change or bad change?”

“Depends. Have you met Cho Miyeon, the other lead? She’s cute, blonde.” Minnie hovers her hand an inch in front of her nose. “About yea high.” 

“A few times,” you answer, sorta truthfully.

Minnie tilts her head, and licks her thumb to flip through the first couple pages in the stack. “Well, the producers want you two to be seen. Together. Somewhere high profile and suggestive.”

“Okay.” You’re pouring hot water from the kettle over coffee grounds and a filter when you realize you have no idea what that’s about. You voice as much: “I have no idea what that means.”

“Well, here’s the general thought: they figure they can get some free marketing, brush up a little media buzz, get people talking about this movie if some paps snap some pictures of you two where it looks like you’re—”

“Where it looks like we’re dating. Okay, sure, wonderful.”

“Your words, not mine—or the producers, legally.” You fall silent, thinking: there’s no such thing as fairytales, it was bound to happen, a trip up, a snag, a snare. You know, in essence, it’s trouble.

“Um.” Your shoulders drop. “The producers want a scandal, Minnie.” “Again, I’m not legally allowed to call it that.” She shakes her head, before putting something down on a lined memo pad with great industry. “And if that���s your assessment, you came to it all on your own with no help from me.”

But yes, she mouths to you silently. You got it, aren’t you clever, now play along.

“Does this not feel like shaking a hornet’s nest?” you ask her. “Surely there’s a better way to go about receiving death threats; she’s a damn idol.”

“She certainly is,” Minnie says, passing you the pen and giving you her practiced professional-but-still-definitely-sardonic-smile that always manages to emote, please don’t be difficult. If she’s hoping it inspires confidence, it does not. “Sign the new contract.”

You’ve got plenty of reasons to have reservations, but here’s a fun fact not a lot of people know: there’s a part of you perfectly content shutting up and doing what you’re told. Maybe it’s something about pretty girls with dark eyes, long legs and a curl in their lip that upstages anything like subtlety—an Achilles heel of sorts. Except instead of your mother forgetting to bathe your feet in the river styx, you’ve just got some mother issues in general.

“There,” Minnie says, watching you initial on the dotted line. “Was that so hard? Someday, you’ll look back and think, yeah, that’s where it all goes to shit.

-

Three weeks into filming, you make good on your promise.

It would have been neater, perhaps, if all the sneaking around and impropriety caught up with you and used this moment as a catalyst: if, filled with embarrassment, you owned up to everything that was going on between you. Might’ve saved you some hurt.

You watch Miyeon’s hand shoot up to her mouth only to find whimpers leaking out from beneath her palm.

What if all those cameras had instead gotten pictures of you and Miyeon here, in the restroom of a cafe that Miyeon swore up and down would be crawling with paparazzi—where Miyeon had dragged you by the wrist halfway through a bottle of dry chardonnay, locked the door behind her, and flicked the skirt of a her floral dress up over her hips. Imagine the way it would look: you on your knees, face buried between Miyeon’s legs— 

“I swear… your fucking mouth,” Miyeon murmurs, fingers running through your hair. 

—all you know is that it would have been a different kind of disaster.

“Oh,” she moans, and you swallow heavily at the sight of her above you, following the movement in her face: every wince, every flinch, pleasure absolute and wringing her dry. She’s pretty as always, eyes dark and twinkling under the cool fluorescent lights. It’s that damn blush again, and you’re convinced eating Miyeon out feels like the most normal thing in the universe, like you’ve done it a million times before, and you’ll do it a million times more. Just listen to how Miyeon’s breath stutters when you lap softly at the heat between her lips, lifting her hood and swirling her clit once, twice, before bringing the narrow point of your tongue back to the shallow depth of her aching entrance. She shudders at all how you tease her, slick pooling in your mouth, down your chin; a pinched off moan filling the bathroom when you add another finger inside her. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” she says, gasping out on top of an embarrassed little sigh each time time she bucks against the touch of your hand. You spread her lips, get your tongue flatter, deeper, and she drops her shoulders, laughing in that high-pitched skittery way she does when she’s struggling not to cum all over you with her eyes clenched shut.

It’s a sight to behold: Miyeon twisting her brows and biting into her lower lip—chewing off all the lip-gloss you know she just put on because you watched her make a show of it at the table like it was the most delicate thing in the world. She looks soft, docile even, and hums out a wistful note when you squeeze your hand into her thigh. Swallows back a moan when you reach up and knead at her chest. Yeah, she is soft. Tender and malleable and perfect. How easily you keep her pinned in place with just a flex of your wrist.

“Now would you look at that, princess,” slips out of you, totally carefree, lifting your lips from her pussy and wiping the wet from your chin. She sways slightly, and you’re leaning into her space, voice nearly coming out breathy and flooded as hers, asking, “You’re so wet, Miyeon. How do you want me to make you cum? On my fingers?”

Miyeon just sighs, lust and need glittering in her eyes. If there’s anything you’ve picked up from all of this so far, from all the raunchy sex, every manner in which she’s puddled in your grip, all the times she’s begged for you to hold her down and rail her—more than anything else, Miyeon loves, loves, loves to be teased. 

But it’s the way her smile stretches, just perfectly, or even just one glance from those doleful eyes—fuck, goddamnit, one day I am really going to fucking die written into the shy curve of her lips—you’re never quite that cruel. Her panties are dropped to the floor and hanging around her ankle, soaked, ruined, but that doesn’t mean she needs to be too; you bring your lips back to her pussy. Fingertips curling up against that spot that drives her up the wall and your tongue running laps around her swollen clit.

“Oh, like that,” Miyeon whines, barely able to make any noises louder than a whimper, “just like that, please, yes, like that—”

And then you catch the aching swell of her clit between your lips. Slowly, start to suck.

“God,” she breathes out, still writhing from the fingers you have inside her, your thumb rubbing against wet, slippery skin, right how you’ve learned she likes it. And she gasps, head rolled back, brows furrowed up: “Oh, yes, oh God, you — you’re perfect. It’s — ”

That really never gets old.

Everything stills for a moment. Everything besides your fingers fucking her quietly while her orgasm quakes through her. She’s catching her breath, staring at you—skin dewy with sweat and chest heaving. Her warmth wraps around you, surrounds you, and you’d be content to stay like this forever, pressing kisses into her stomach and never, ever letting go.

That is until she looks at you, lashes fluttering, as if she’s trying to gauge your emotions. Until she speaks. “I want it,” she gasps, breath steadying, “I want your cock.”

She knows you, right down to the basics: you can never deny her anything.

-

(You’re being cautious—covering your tracks, you convince yourself—but then there’s all this evidence to the contrary, no shortage of close calls, times where you’re so nearly caught: Miyeon’s lithe, tight body grinding desperately against yours in a costume closet or her dressing room or in the backseat of your car; the way she keens when you slip your fingers inside her, how she wails in delight when you really fuck her in earnest; you cutting off those unabashed moans with your mouth or your hand or even just two fingers shoved between her lips so she might have something to bite down on.

It’s this whole thing, the sneaking around, the indiscretion—Miyeon loves it. And the danger of it all become something like a siren’s call, you are just as attracted to the idea too, that you’re masking who you are in the dark, just past drawn curtains and under fitted sheets.

“Wow, I never noticed, but you guys are, like, weirdly close,” Soyeon says once, sometime near the beginning, and perhaps when you’d begun to stare a little too obviously as Miyeon was tying her hair back. It has you both laughing off the observation as something trivial, like Soyeon was the odd one out for noticing anything at all. But fast forward a few hours, and you’re sprawled out on a set of hotel linens, having a laugh again all while Miyeon fucks herself on your hard cock, delighted at how easy it is to conceal everything in plain sight.)

-

“Um,” Yuqi says, walking into the living room of Miyeon’s apartment with her laptop precariously perched on her forearm.

You’re out there on a Wednesday, hanging out, kissing Miyeon every now and again, but talking mostly. The rationalization is that you’re practicing and memorizing lines, ironing out kinks that aren’t really there. Which is all how you know things are getting out of control, if not among the other hints: Miyeon’s added a spare toothbrush in the cup on your bathroom vanity, a pile of women’s laundry atop your washing machine that never grows any smaller, beauty products under the sink, and there’s all those damn bobby pins that show up in every corner of your apartment. “It’s just casual”, you overhear her say once, on the phone with Sana, and you do your best to never, ever think about it.

“You idiots, you’re trending.” Yuqi sits down on the sofa next to you, not at all disconcerted that you’ve got your hand in the ends of Miyeon’s hair or that she’s practically sitting in your lap. You learn pretty quick that Yuqi feels like she belongs anywhere. In some ways, that’s her charm. “And?” Miyeon asks, dismissive.

“Are you both insane?” Yuqi turns her laptop around so you can read her feed.

There’s a series of pictures on the screen attached to a headline that starts with breaking in bold capital letters, like its only true purpose is to fuck up the internet. Your eyes start on Miyeon first, the tilt of her chin, her fingers floating across her collarbones, smile radiant—looking at you the way she always does when she’s mentally undressing you. Fortunately, she’s still perfectly made up, hair tied up above her shoulders and the mascara under her eyes not quite yet running; this photo is before you made a mess of all that, gotten her moaning your name in the restroom. You’ve got your hand at the back of your neck, and you’re laughing. The glint in your eye screams complicity. 

Miyeon says emptily, “you’re overreacting.” 

Yuqi’s frown deepens fractionally, but you’re putting the pieces together. It’s pretty unhinged.

 “Christ,” you start, “get a look at some of these retweets: I’m just thinking of what those kids would look like, the genetic payout; fuuuuuuck I need to see that sextape.” You laugh. “Look, this one just says: sex.”

Miyeon leans forward in your lap, cheek nearly pressed against yours. “Here’s one: how much do you wanna bet Miyeon tops when they—”

Yuqi bursts out laughing, clearly almost snorts, and you both raise an eyebrow at her. “What? This girl here isn’t topping anyone.”

“Shut it.” Miyeon rubs her hand at her chin, turns her eyes up at you, and without an ounce of irony continues, “How much do you wanna bet? That these are your fans.”

Yeah, probably not, you think. “I’m sorry. Do you have any idea how my demographic skews? Not like your fans who are…” Miyeon’s face lights up. “Are delightful?” “Have a sock at home with Miyeon’s name on it?” Yuqi chimes in, grinning. “I mean if somebody wants to make a puppet of me,” Miyeon says, practically huffing out the words, “that’s not really any of your concern.”

Yuqi makes a face. You watch as she slowly twirls one of those long waves of pink hair around her finger (strawberry blonde, Miyeon called it, and you don’t know shit all about that, but it does sound pretty, so that fits, you guess). It goes all the way down to her waist, and you’ve noticed, possibly for a second or third time, that she looks killer in a pair of high cut jeans—what all with the long legs and an ass that more than plenty fills them out, she could be peddling denim on a Levi’s catalog.

“What should be your concern,” Yuqi says, “is that the internet thinks you’re getting railed on the regular.” It’s quick—blink and you’d have missed it—her eyes lingering for a moment on your expression before she lifts her chin and laughs, dryly, almost nervously to fill the silence. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

-

Yuqi’s expertise, first and foremost, is talking. Go ahead, take a moment to consider how wildly dangerous that is, for a girl with a face like hers and a body like that to be good at talking. Every so often you catch her staring at you with her huge, beautiful eyes, these deep pools of pure anthracite; the sort of charming that keeps you smiling and laughing without even knowing why. She’s equal parts badmash and coquettish, you realize, and somewhere in the seamlessness with which she swaps between the two is a hint that both are facades. (That there exists a third Yuqi, the one who determines which mask is appropriate for which occasion but who is otherwise veiled, obscured, entirely impossible to know.)

Whatever your theory for it, the charm, the innuendos, the suggestion, it all gets dialed up to eleven.

Yuqi suggests you stay for dinner in a way that is impossible to refuse, and Miyeon grumbles something inaudible, but you think you’re able to piece it together: this is a regular thing for them. Miyeon and you haven’t talked numbers or cleared up the bodycount, haven’t talked about anything serious at all—the most incriminating thing between you being Miyeon laying her head on your chest, cunt still full of your cum, saying, I’m really glad I met you—of all of Miyeon’s princes-in-waiting, you’d be a fool to think you were the first. And you’re willing to wager Yuqi’s done all this before.

“Hey, how do you take your whiskey?” she asks, pouring olive oil over a bowl of cherry tomatoes and chopping a sprig of fresh basil. If Miyeon wasn’t glaring at her, the quirk in Yuqi’s lip has you swearing she would’ve thrown a wink in your direction. Just for good measure.

“Neat is fine,” you tell her, and Miyeon rolls her eyes. -

It’s actually not true that Yuqi kisses you first. Not the whole truth anyway. “Hard to explain it in words, huh?” she asks, leaning into your space and nearly pushing you over the back of the sofa. Her knee is between your thighs, pressing up on your crotch in a way that feels good and threatening. She knows that’s the only thing she needs to keep you in place, so she leaves her hands at her chest, fingers toying with the top button of her shirt—ruminations of whether to unbutton it herself or wait for you to finally tear the whole thing off her.

(There’s a million different ways you could do this, but you’re perfectly content seeing how this plays out.)

“With just a few of them that is,” Miyeon says, drying her hands with a towel at the kitchen sink.

“Oh,” Yuqi starts, and her lips twist into an approximation of a smile. “You’re saying you two don’t have a label.”

“We’re coworkers technically,” you tell her, faux-casual, like it doesn’t beg twenty more questions.

“I don’t know; the internet thinks you guys are in fucking love.” Yuqi’s fingers come to a decision: slipping the button out of place with a little effort and resting at the next one down. Her neck is pale and tender and you’re only pulling away long enough from the glint in her big gorgeous eyes to know you want to get your lips on it. “And you’re telling me you wouldn’t be jealous—even a little—if I started sucking his cock.” 

She gets jealous easy, is how Yuqi explains it to you, freeing an ounce of soft cleavage, a sneak of black lace with another button. Look, it’s just chemistry—you have it with everyone. Who can fault you for it?

“Hm.” Miyeon shrugs, looking put upon, and leans back against the counter where she spends a long moment with her arms crossed, before running her thumb across her chin. “Can I mention something?” “Anything for our princess,” Yuqi says, finally touching you. Just two fingers at your sternum. “Right?” “Why is it you’re never the one bringing anyone home?”

“I’m not a slut,” Yuqi says, straight-faced, and Miyeon’s whole expression goes awry. That’s probably where she seals her fate.

Not that you think for a second Yuqi had recused herself from the attention of boys, girls—none of it in short supply—and for all her “fidelity”, you refuse to believe the things she does with her words are unintentional, that her talent for seduction is somehow innate, something god-given.

“How can you be so sure?” you ask, fingers threading through Yuqi’s hair until she tilts up her chin and smiles.

Eventually there comes a moment where Miyeon meanders around the kitchen island and gets a hold of you. Figuratively and literally; eyes hardened on you in a way you’re not sure you’ve seen before. 

Mine, is what she’s telling Yuqi in no ambiguous terms, hands hooking into the waist of your pants.  

“Tell me something,” Yuqi starts with your name on her lips, “does she beg for it? When you’re fucking her, does she whine and cry until she’s collapsed and panting? Really, I’m curious. Does she look at you with those pretty eyes and plead for you to pump her full of cum?”

“Yuqi,” Miyeon says, kind of sharply.

To be clear, you’re not totally without blame here either, seeing the opportunity as it appears, seizing it for yourself—and you say the words as you think them: “it’s kind of her thing, I guess.”

“Total cumslut, right?” Yuqi’s hands are all over your arms, your chest, and you’re spread in both directions, reaching around Miyeon’s waist, and toying at the tight fit of Yuqi’s jeans. She leans forward a little, side-eyeing the way Miyeon’s lip ever so slightly curls when she enters that anxious proximity a breath's distance away from you, whispering: “I’m nothing like that, I’m so much better.”

“You’ve got a real mouth on you,” Miyeon tells her, watching her shirt fall down her petite shoulders. “You know that?” Yuqi’s eyes are flaring hot, dripping with untoward intent, and they stay on you just long enough for her to make certain you’re paying attention before she turns to Miyeon. “I know you love this mouth.”

You realized it long before dinner, it’s true, probably long before today: Yuqi likes you, which, at present, is pretty obvious. She likes it when you smile, likes it when you rub your hand at the nape of your neck and laugh at her witty one-liners, likes it when you ruffle your hair just like you’ve done in front of the camera your whole life. Yuqi likes you just as Yuqi likes Miyeon, and she’s twisting her hand at your shirt tighter yet, hoping one of you might just kiss her. “Miyeon,” you say after an inhale, commanding tone right where you left it, and it’s comical how fast both girls heel. Isn’t that good to know. Filing it away in a mental folder of sorts, you straighten yourself onto your feet, slowly. The thing that ends up flipping the table—the thing that has Miyeon’s expression of general discontent rally to something a little more impending—is just how much taller you are than Yuqi. And when that hits her, swallow visible through the hollow of her throat, there’s a waver in that deadly expression of hers, a weakness, something you can exploit. Your hand finds purchase under Yuqi’s jaw, gently, and you tilt her face toward you like you’re about to kiss her. Only instead, you run your thumb across her lower lip and say, “I don’t blame you, her mouth is gorgeous.”

“And?” Yuqi finds her composure quickly. “What do you want this mouth to do?”

 “Oh, Yuqi,” Miyeon says, malice hidden under a voice tender and semi-sweet, before you can think to prepare an answer. She’s twisting Yuqi’s bra strap between her fingers as it comes down around her shoulder. “I want you to get me ready for his cock.”

“I,” Yuqi starts— 

“Hm?” Miyeon asks, and that’s a pitch in her voice you’ve never heard. You’re looking over both of them enigmatically, ready to walk away from this with a clear picture of who Yuqi is, obviously, but then it’s the expression on Miyeon’s face—so unbothered, so lewdly satisfied, you have to know more.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m just gonna watch.” Yuqi reaches up on her toes before Miyeon can react. 

Kisses you right in front of her.

-

It’s not really clear to you who, if anyone, is piloting this thing, only that it’s moving at near out of control speeds. And even though Miyeon’s bed isn’t even quite big enough to hold you all, that ends up doing little to slow either of them down. 

Miyeon is between your legs, preening a few strands of glossy hair back behind her ear that have real determination to keep falling in front of her face. You’d offer to help, to get your hands in it and pull tight, but you’ve come upon an acquired taste for the blowjob Miyeon’s barely giving you right now. A masterwork in its own right: a certain finesse in each flick of her tongue, the soft cushion of her pouty lips, the way every gentle kiss finds you that much fucking harder in her fingers. She drags her tongue up, tastes the pre-cum weeping from your cock. Just smiles like she knows how bad you want hold her tight and fuck her throat. The glint in her doe-like eyes tells you that you will.

She gets it. Terror lives in anticipation, not the bang. That sanguine expectation of pleasure becomes pleasure in of itself. Her instincts tell her to tease, tell her to kiss and lick; only when you’re finally shuddering a wet breath through your teeth, does she part her lips around the head of your cock and start to suck.

She takes in an inch, maybe another. Slides her tongue slowly under your cock, and christ, her mouth feels fucking amazing.

You sigh like you’re stepping into a hot bath, and Miyeon’s satisfaction is equally palpable: corners of her mouth stretching around you into a pretty little smirk, something you’re more than happy to feel running up and down your cock until she slacks her jaw and takes you in full, past her soft, wet lips.

Though when finally you look up, you realize Yuqi’s barely on the bed actually—just one knee and it looks precarious—unfazed that she’s spilling off the end; working her hands into the bottom of Miyeon’s skirt like she’s done it a thousand times. She drags her underwear down her thighs, and Yuqi reminds you that she’s got the exact kind of wicked streak that’ll never let an opportunity go to waste:

“Oh,” she says, head up over Miyeon’s ass, blinking in admiration, “she’s even buying new lingerie for you, huh? I didn’t realize how head over heels—”

“Jesus Christ.” Miyeon’s lips are still half complicating themselves with your cock; she pumps her slender fingers around you in consolation, and murmurs, “do you ever fuck? Or you all tease.”

“Well if you insist,” Yuqi purrs, a mean tilt to her voice—because in the end, she knows that she wants to; that with her small body right between you, like this, there's plenty of her to share; that when it comes to Miyeon, there always is. “Hm,” she hums, slipping a finger or two inside Miyeon’s pussy. Your vision of it being the way Miyeon’s face twists delightfully, eyebrows sewn together in a perfect discord with the rest of her angelic features. “Baby, you’re so wet—”

“She loves the attention,” you say, and Miyeon’s eyes track yours while she lowers her lips slowly down your shaft once more. “If I had to guess, the only thing better than me fucking her perfect little cunt, is if there’s an audience there to watch it.” Your hand rests below Miyeon’s ear, fingers kneading at the back of her neck and guiding her just enough so that her tongue is flat and slick where you want it. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Yuqi separates her lips from Miyeon’s asscheek, that heavy, open-mouthed kiss at the curve of creamy skin coming to an end just long enough to catch you smirking. She’s fucking the girl’s cunt open with her fingers, slowly, reminding Miyeon that she doesn’t have it confused—that she knows she’s nothing like the princess everyone believes her to be, that she’s so much more. “Always such a good slut, baby. Go on, show me how you take that cock.” “How about you come over here,” you tell Yuqi, before looking back at Miyeon’s eyes, innocent and blinking like she isn’t taking you in and out between her tightly-sealed lips. “Help me cum in her throat.” At that, you feel Miyeon’s jaw slack open even further, and the fingers she has corkscrewing around you find room at your hips instead. It’s hard to get over how perfectly submissive she can be, the way this always plays out; you’ve never needed anything like safewords, because Miyeon trusts you implicitly. Trusts that you’d never, ever hurt her. Trusts that you’ll get your hard cock in her and fuck her until her knees are wobbling and she’s practically unable to walk. Trusts that you won’t even hesitate when she asks for more. Yuqi lands a few more kisses at Miyeon’s cunt, along her ass, and then, without warning, sinks her teeth into all that soft, pliable skin. Miyeon winces, something you can feel, a sharp moan becoming sealed in against your cock and leaking slightly between her lips like it’s the drool running down your shaft. Apparently the image of you firing off a salvo of cum deep in Miyeon’s throat is as hot as it sounds, because Yuqi is grinning like a cheshire cat as she slides off the bed. “I just hope you realize you’re on the docket for quite a lot here.”

“What’s that, high expectations?”

“A lot more than a throatpie,” Yuqi says, hopping onto the bed next to where you’re sitting, where you’re slowly fucking Miyeon’s mouth. Each time you lift her face up and down the length of your cock, you feel the back of her throat, start to catalog the noises she makes as she starts to slobber onto you.

“Yeah,” you say, fisting a second hand into Miyeon’s hair. “I was kind of counting on it.”

“Go figure.” Yuqi’s voice is low and raspy, right into your junction where your shoulder meets your neck. She reaches an arm around you, leaving ephemeral kisses at your jaw, your cheek, getting her lips right next to your ear, where she whispers, “you’re actually kinda depraved.”

“Well, welcome to showbiz, I guess.” “Hm,” Yuqi says, watching you shudder as her fingers arrive around the base of your cock, fucking you with them in tandem as you sleeve yourself in out of Miyeon’s hot mouth like she’s some toy to be used, to be fucked, to be ruined.

Your mouth opens and closes, twice, before sputtering, “I’m actually—”

“One of the normal ones?” Yuqi tightens her grip. She’s picking up all that slick drool and precum where it threatens to leak onto your waist, and it makes her touch every bit as life-endingly-incredible as the tight fit of Miyeon’s mouth. The combination of which has you groaning audibly.

“Yeah, sure,” you breathe, “something like that.” 

“And a narcissist too.” Yuqi pulls at your face to unstick your gaze from the sight of your cock disappearing between Miyeon’s soft, pretty lips. You recognize the touch of her hand as it wanders down to your balls, gently, but still very much present. And right after the silence stretches, just a little too far, she says, “aren’t you two just perfect for eachother.”

Yuqi kisses you hard. These sweltering, stinging, asphyxiating kisses that grab at your lips with no intention of letting go, and everything becomes oddly quiet. All you can hear, outside of those messy, strangled sounds from Miyeon’s throat as you fuck your cock into it, is the dull pulse of blood rushing through your head. It’s as if the two of them are pleasure in resonance, channeling onto the same wavelength: Miyeon’s tongue is doing just about fucking everything each time you pull your throbbing cock out of her throat, and she slips it past her lips—starts lapping—when you weave your fingers in her hair even tighter. She gets messier, sloppier, her composure fading like it’s the mascara beneath her eyes. You can feel the flutter of her lashes against your waist right as you pull her mouth back down your shaft. It’s hot and wet and you don’t even realize you start bucking your hips, dragging Miyeon’s lips around your cock quickly, quicker, quicker—

“God,” you mutter, final threads torn apart, and that’s the exact reaction that has Yuqi smiling against your teeth, whispering into your lips, can feel you fucking throbbing. Cum in her for me, cum in her throat. Cum.

Mnnph.

Yeah, that’ll push you right to the edge, teetering. In freefall, actually, jaw snapping shut first—fingers shortly after—you tug hard at where you’ve gathered slipshod pigtails of shimmering, silky-smooth hair, and Miyeon quite nearly chokes as you release everything into her mouth, deluge-like. You’re going to make a mess, you think. You’ll make more.

Mmnnppph.

Okay, it’s filthy is what it is; the sounds of it alone are fucking filthy. That seal of soft lips around you starts to break, leaving you with the flood of cum and spit spilling down your cock and into Yuqi’s fingers as Miyeon gasps at an overwhelmingly desperate draw of air. The struggle to swallow you down is beyond unreasonable, but she brings her mouth back onto you again—closes her eyes and sucks. 

“All of it,” Yuqi whispers still. That’s the kick, and your whole body commits to sighing as she jerks your cock into the wet heat of Miyeon’s mouth. She twists gently, pumping, pulling, fucking every last bit of tension out of your muscles and draining it thoroughly into Miyeon’s throat.

(So that’s what you like, is how you think Yuqi says it, eyes studying your torn expression in equal parts apathy and awe.

She licks your cum off the sharp edge of her knuckles, from between her fingers, and she glances down at where Miyeon is still lapping her tongue at sensitive skin and sucking and cleaning you between her lips. Her lipstick is smeared, makeup running, with tears visible at the ends of her lashes, her cheeks still burning hot and embered. Miyeon looks perfect in many ways, but only flawless in one.)

“Good lord.” Yuqi’s eyes are creased in laughter near the end of your recovery, lighting fast and pulling you over Miyeon’s delicate frame. It’s the kind of laughter that’s genuine and contagious. Sweetly harmonic.

Calling you to join in while you glide your cock between Miyeon’s thighs and press the small of her back into her mattress until she’s practically prone to the bed, tight little ass angled up, proffering, and simply begging for you to pound away. 

“And I mean this in the most respectful way possible,” Yuqi says, with a hair tie between her teeth and fixing back her long waves into something more manageable, hoping it might be something you can pull and yank. What’s the saying—a brave man dies once, but a coward ought to know that Yuqi will always, always, always get what she wants.

“You two are actually really fuckin’ weird.” Her eyes are smoldering, lips quirked into a careless little grin. “I love it.”

-

“Alright, I’m going to have to ask,” Miyeon says, “do I need to be worried about this?”

Someone probably should be. The realization you’re hurdling into is that there exists both a waking up with Yuqi and a waking up with Yuqi, much in the same way there exists both a sleeping with Yuqi and a sleeping with Yuqi.

The three of you do first wake up together, just this ridiculous tangle of limbs that really only has one realistic conclusion, and when Miyeon reminds you—bent over the bathroom sink minutes later and cumming on Yuqi’s fingers—she has to be at the studio in an hour to refilm a few of her over-the-shoulders shots, and it’s not fair that you get to laze around all day, and that her manager is literally going to be here to pick her up any minute, Yuqi and you do the most natural thing in the world. You continue waking up.

You wake up in the shower, on the kitchen island, back again in Miyeon’s room since it’s already kind of fucked up anyway; Yuqi wakes you up all while her knuckles turn white around the door handle of the refrigerator, the back of the living room sofa, and it’s not really that convincing when she turns to Miyeon, one eye shut tight, and tells her, “no, not at all.”

Because when you try to voice something similar, your words get caught pretty deep in your throat, stuck and unmoving. That's become pretty familiar. It’s all pretty fucked, actually.

Yuqi’s on her knees in front of you, fist tight around your cock and jerking all this hot cum onto her face. There’s sin tucked everywhere into these pages. Particularly on her nose, her lips, her cheek, bisecting one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows. You have your proclivities. The tendency toward destruction, toward ruin, and what is Yuqi if not a gorgeous masterpiece begging for someone, anyone to be just a little destructive and ruinous. She flinches every time it hits her, pumping her fingers around your cock again until a rope of creamy white flies right into her pink hair. 

We’re fine, is what you tell Miyeon, huffing and repeating yourself: “We’re fine, I’ll catch you later.”

Miyeon crosses her arms, and that’s when it becomes a little clearer. The juxtaposition here is striking and immediate: black heels, black leggings, pencil skirt, prim and pressed white-collared shirt, the cute little suit jacket that fits barely over her dainty shoulders—she’s dressed head to toe in business casual like she’s about to put in eight hours hole-punching or making copies or writing emails and it’s so effortlessly sexy that the only thing that could possibly distract you from it—

“He’ll be fine,” Yuqi says, not even chagrined in the slightest that she’s fucking covered in cum. You watch her stand up, wipe her eyelashes free of mess with the back of her forearm, and start leading you to the window with her wrist still flexing out tiny motions around your cock. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Just a reminder,” Miyeon shouts, even-pitch and tone slightly indignant, which makes a lot of sense. “You promised you’d sit in for my line reads.”

“And I will.” 

It’s almost idiotic—here you are, the expert in the room, a professional in spinning ludicrous little lies, purveyor of fantasy and fiction and fuck if it’s not obvious that you’re planning on fucking Yuqi’s pretty little cunt until you’re both forgetting how to function. Miyeon reads that from across the room. From where the stench of sex is so heavy it’s probably hitting her too.

“Oh relax princess,” Yuqi says to her, and her lips slant to something more mischievous. Her shoulders are slumped back against the pane of glass and she’s rubbing the head of your cock through the soaked folds of her pussy. Neither of you are in search of ideas, for inspiration. Want for nothing. You’ll fucking ruin this little cunt—get me screaming and so addled I can’t speak straight, Yuqi’s telling you with just the corner of her mouth, curling. 

You grab hold of Yuqi, grappling with her for a moment before you spin her around in your hands—until her tits are plastered onto the window. It’s a show of force, a drill in shock and awe admittedly, but also you’ve got two perfect rows of bite marks above your collarbone. Honest to god, a full dental record, right in your shoulder. You sense the inspiration in it. Yuqi fucks like there’s inspiration in it, like she’s trying to kill you, in a way, but you’re paid for maintaining an image just a tad more wholesome than that. Ideally with a little less blood where a camera could catch it.

“Jesus christ,” Miyeon says, tapping away at her phone. “You guys are gross.”

“He promised. Didn’t he?” Yuqi mutters against the pane, the condensation in her breath fogging immediately. If that isn’t a perfect preview of what you’ll do to her. Perfectly premeditated by the way she fucking keens when you slip back inside her tight cunt. And Miyeon is very unimpressed with all of it: “Yeah okay, whatever, I don’t care, stay hydrated or something. I’m going to wait downstairs.”

“Told you,” Yuqi purrs, grinning all over you, in the breadth of quiet that the door leaves slamming shut behind Miyeon—stage exit, fade to black; you know that sometimes the magic of film isn’t what’s shown on camera, but rather what isn’t. 

“Told me what?” you ask, still enthralled by how Yuqi is so small underneath you, how when you’re both reaching for control, you don’t really even care if she beats you to the draw.

She gets jealous, Yuqi’s trying to explain, in between the sounds of you fucking her open and raw. You hesitate. Like you haven’t always had that effect on people, blossomed into blessing, complexed into curse. You reach your hand up Yuqi’s ribs, her chest, around her throat, and let your words bite at her ear: “oh, I think you will too.”

-

“I get hate mail,” you tell Miyeon. You’re on set the following week, ducking out of the path of a mic boom that is swinging way too fucking low, and there’s this story trending that heavily suggests you and Miyeon are knocking boots and it has a few disheartened fans absolutely outraged. “Like physical hate mail, in envelopes and stamped and everything.”

“It’s because of the stubble,” she says, rubbing a finger under your jaw. The girl in charge of costuming is adamant that beard prosthetics are lazy and cheap and you are neither. Even if you need it for only one scene. “It makes you look…”

“Uncouth?”

“Rakish,” she says, blinking. And as an afterthought: “Like, of all your thoughts, the one you have of pulling my shirt up and kissing at my tits until they’re sore is somehow the least vulgar.” 

Her shoulders pull up into the slightest shrug. “I mean I’m into it,” she adds.

“That’s not fair,” you tell her, “I’m not considering anything like that.”

Miyeon pulls you aside and up one of set’s staircases to nowhere, fingers warm at the crook of your elbow, and says, “well, it’s all I can fucking think about.”

-

Take a second for some personal reflection: you’ve never really tried to make a habit of anything and at the same time been successful. When it happens, it just kind of happens. We are what we repeatedly do.

In a way, it all started in public, this thing between you and Miyeon. Your roots are here, out with the blurs of passing people, daring to be seen, to be recognized, to be identified. You had long thought—and think, you do, particularly when doing the unthinkable—that a girl like Miyeon would steer away from the prospect; fucking you instead in private, comfort realized in the security of drawn curtains and shuttered blinds. A stark contrast to the part of your lives lived out in the open, subject to scrutiny and skepticism, unguarded from microscopic observation.

She only has everything to lose, you understand. And you aren’t more than a few paces behind her either. Reckless, she’s muttering while you sink to your knees and get your fingers up her skirt, so reckless—like this whole thing isn’t her idea.

The crazy part about all this that you actually do get caught. Not just one time either. 

You’ll bring it up in discussion with Soyeon later, when you run into her at the movie’s premier event and you’ve realized the value of having a good confidant:

“I literally told you one thing,” she’ll say, hands on her hips and looking like the mother that has to call the school, has to call the parent of the window you’d shattered with a baseball. It’ll all be highly disappointing. You are unbelievable—is what she won’t be able to say, even though she’ll really, really want to—I told you not to sleep with Miyeon and you slept with Miyeon why would you sleep with Miyeon you absolute moron.

-

There’s the time on set: in a fucking storage closet of all places. You’ve got Miyeon laid back on a table, fucking her slowly. Her panties are in her mouth, and the toes of her foot are curling against your cheek. It starts with a kiss, which most people might consider poetic, just your lips against a heel, the narrow bend of her arch to where she’s got her delicate toes perfectly colored in pastel white; Miyeon’s too cock-addled to do anything like comment on the fact you take them between your lips, slowly, and again, sucking, kissing her feet until she laughs at the way it tickles.

“Oh my god,” a voice says. One of the production assistants. “Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry.”

-

There’s the time in the woods near where you’re shooting a few of the outdoor scenes. You’re stepping out of a tall brush, and Miyeon’s cheeks are so red, glistening in sweat and cum and there’s a technician running an extension cord to god knows where to hook up more lights to the rigging.

“Um,” he says, just staring and unwinding more cord.

“We were looking for her earring,” you tell him.

“In the fucking woods?” He laughs out loud, just this self-amused grunt of a laugh. “Did you find it?”

You actually can’t look him in the eye, and Miyeon is just standing there, mortified. Your forehead creases a puzzled line and you say, with absolute conviction: yes.

-

“Jesus christ, Miyeon.” You swivel on your stool in your dressing room. Think possibly to kneel, but you know what might happen if she sees you on your knees, supplicating.

Let the record show, you and Miyeon are on day six of your self-imposed moratorium—the ban that prohibits the two of you fucking eachother at work, so it’s not like it’s the fastest capitulation in the world either.

Miyeon does a spin, pleated hem of a navy blue plaid skirt flaring out to the sides—how do I look?

There are answers in your throat, no doubt—like sin, like fantasy, like a submissive, fuckable fantasy. Like it should be illegal.

“Uh—I mean,” you nearly stammer, massaging your thumb into your temple. It’s certainly not natural for you to be here, on the back foot, and it has Miyeon’s mouth slanting into a predictable smirk. In an almost inexcusably banal act, she puts a fingernail to her teeth and shimmies her waist so that you’re lost to the moment, tracking how the skirt’s fabric ruffles between her legs.

Is it the fact that some maniac in costume has gone and put her in a school uniform?

Yes. 

That's a great deal of what’s going on here, which is a whole fucking lot. Is it the way her shoulders vanish in a tailored blazer with a nostalgia-inducing insignia above the breast pocket—her fingers poking out from the cuffs and toying at the lapels? Is it that the dress shirt beneath it is made of the cheapest cotton one could find (because the thing doesn’t really need to hold up over multiple washes) so you can see how her stomach flattens, that gentle rise in her chest, the sharp angle of her collarbones, all when the light catches it just right? There’s the stockings, dress shoes, a fucking ribbon in her hair and you’re ignoring the fact that the tie around her neck is a little loose and you might be able spin it over her shoulders and tighten your grip and—

“Cute, right?” She skips across the room and perches on your knee. Really selling it.

“I’m curious,” you say, looking for a narrow gap, something to stow away into, something that might take your mind off the fact that when you look at Miyeon, you’re transposing and overlaying images of an eleventh grade crush, and that’s not a mood you were prepared to be whipped into at just the flash of blue plaid and a charcoal blazer. “When was the last time you wore a ribbon in your hair?” 

“Oh gosh.” One corner of Miyeon’s mouth frowns, ruminating. She hovers her hand up to her ponytail, twisting it gently until it bounces back into place. “It’s been such a long time actually, I don’t know, seventeen, eighteen years old?”

Okay, that’s certainly not helping. A more direct approach, perhaps: “what are you doing, Miyeon?”

“Oh,” she says, nonchalant, because isn’t it obvious, “I’m here to get fucked.”

This is trouble, and among other things, a perversion, you think, but your mouth is too dry to say any of that, and Miyeon leans in and places her fingers beneath your jaw. Tilts your chin and presses her lips to yours, gentle, feather-light.

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand. Four one-thousand.

Shifting slightly, the inside of Miyeon’s thigh presses to the outside of yours, only ever the slightest movement, and it has you sighing into her mouth. It’s impossible to decide whether you ought admire her confidence or find fault with her gall. She’s a delightful lapful—and a handful, and a mouthful—so you’ll flirt with danger, abandon those last vestiges of inhibition, and lean into the former rather than the latter.

Miyeon’s breath lands against your lips, hitching as the kiss breaks.

“Look,” you say, lip smacking back into place when she finally lets it free. There’s a response, bubbling up from your gut, because on one hand, this is the exact kind of impropriety you were hoping to avoid. And on the other, well, nothing ventured, nothing lost—you suppose. Your eyes are flicking to the top buttons of her shirt, collar agape and that gentle invitation of cleavage snuck behind it.

“Oh my god,” Miyeon says, inches from your face, and she starts to laugh. “You have grays in your beard.”

“No there aren’t.”

“I’m serious.” She wraps her hand around your cheeks, and twists your face to the vanity mirror, like it’d be helpful. “Look,” she says, twice, pulling her lip between her teeth and staring at your reflection.

“Those are stress grays,” you amend, before turning back and shifting her weight more comfortably into your lap, soft thighs straddling yours. “Just to be clear, I’m barely any older than you are.”

“Older,” she says, smiling.

“Don’t have to dwell on it.”

“I mean there’s a silver lining to that though.” Miyeon’s fingers are spread across your face, thumbs gently rubbing into your cheekbones. She’s close enough for you to forget her manager is going to come looking for her at some point or another. “Just means I can call you daddy, and it won’t be weird.”

“Uh.”

“You know,” she adds, sliding her fingers over your ears and pressing a kiss into your jaw, “while we’re doing it.”

“No, I understood that part.” You give her another once over and firm your hands on her waist to stop her from grinding her hips any further into yours. “I’m not sure it’s age that potentially makes it weird.”

“Come on,” she says, letting her voice slip into that slightly deepened register that suggests not only will she disobey you, but you’ll love every second of it. “I know you love to play with me.”

“It’s not a trick question. What are you asking for here, Miyeon?”

“Sex,” she says.

“Yes,” you answer, blinking back at her, expression skeptical. “I was there for that part of the conversation. It was about sixty seconds ago, if I recall.”

She lifts your chin, looks straight in your eyes, and asks, “and?”

“I’m just trying to puzzle out what you're telling me.” You slide your fingertips past the waist of her skirt and onto her ass. The quiet hum of satisfaction in Miyeon’s throat says you’re getting warmer. “What it is you want.”

“Any ideas?” she presses again, the lilt in her voice filling you with hundreds—the countenance behind it providing even more. Her hips grind into you further, bucking toward your waist and silencing the anxious distance between you.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Your hand snakes around the curve of Miyeon’s ass, down to where her underwear feels hot and unmistakably damp, where you can feel the shape of her lips through the fabric and the heat smoldering between them. There’s a tiny wanton whine from her throat when you circle your fingers; a sharp draw of air past her teeth when you apply a little more pressure. “Want my fingers inside of you? Hmm?”

Miyeon nods almost immediately.

You kiss her. Slide your mouth over her lips and recognize the strawberry in her lip gloss and hold onto your exhale, breathing the same air. Her eyes open first, lashes brushing yours. “You want me to fuck you, Miyeon.”

“Want you to tell me what to do,” she says, and without even running the word experimentally around her mouth, without testing its taste or the way it feels on her tongue, she fixes her dark brilliant eyes on you, saying, “want daddy to tell me what to do.”

You’ve got all this about nature and nurture running amuck in your head to the backdrop of the sound of a large cable snapping. It’s dangerous. It’s not like you, you’re not the type, you’re telling yourself, and a lot of other rubbish that isn’t concerned by the fact that Miyeon’s here, fucking dressed like this, ponytail bobbing, ribbon in her hair begging to come undone—

Lock the door, you say to her, and she does. Turn around. Take your jacket off, and she pauses first, before twisting her arms from the sleeves and folding it neatly over the back of a chair. You’ve got a hand outstretched as she walks toward you; your panties, hand them over, and she reaches down beneath her skirt, rolling her underwear down her smooth thighs, her calves, eyes never once leaving yours—watching you watch her. 

Sit.

Touch yourself. 

Slowly; slower—

It’s almost ridiculous. You’ve hardly even laid a hand on her, and she’s got her eyes looking up at you like you’d just set all her biological clocks an hour forward, cranked up to ten-minutes-to-midnight, and replaced all her coherent thoughts with just one simple thing: how bad she needs you to cum in her cunt.

She’s settled at the front of the vanity counter, feet against your chest, head tilting back against the mirror, and she’s gently slapping her own pussy with the pads of her fingers, covered and wet in her own anticipation. Your hands are nothing like hers—these slender, delicate things—and it’s driving her up the wall. You’re spreading her thighs, opening her up, bringing the roughness in your fingers, the heel of your palm so close. Miyeon can’t help it.

“You’re such a slut,” you tell her, watching her shove one, two fingers past the glistening lips her pussy—biting back a laugh as she starts to fuck herself slowly for you. “And already this fucking wet.”

Miyeon just smiles, eyes hooded and looking at you with such perfectly sinful intent. “I thought that’s how daddy likes his little girl.”

(Don’t get it confused: it’s never been a challenge to play a character, to be someone you are not, to emotionally identify and aspire to the details of a part. But this is different. This is seamless. This is you leaning into that space, living in it, loving it. A physical part of you. Genuine and true.)

You grapple Miyeon’s wrist, pulling her hand away from the want of her pussy, denying her all of that friction. She whines, but puts up little to no fuss when you bring her hand to her face and clear your voice of anything that doesn’t inspire authority—deliver an order, sternly, with her fingers in her mouth, suck.

“Here’s a lesson.” You click your tongue as she closes her eyes and sets her jaw in motion to clean her own slick off her nails, her knuckles. “The only thing that goes in my princess’s cunt, is daddy’s cock.”

“In that case,” Miyeon says around her fingers still between her lips, a smile spreading across all of her perfected features—voice lilting, reeling you in, sinking its teeth into your skin: I think daddy’s going to have to punish me.

Oh, you’re one step ahead of her, thinking of all the ways how, and the sound of your zipper coming undone makes Miyeon's eyes go wide with want, with need. Her petite, perfect, fuckable body still locked away behind fabric, she starts hiking her skirt even higher up her hips, lazily unfastening the buttons of her shirt. 

You tell her to put her feet together, wrapping a grip onto her stockings and pulling her legs closed—twisting them to the side and letting her heels clack together over your shoulder. The gentle motion of your thumb between her thighs gets her sucking a sharp draw of air. Always so vocal Miyeon is at the slightest provocation.

Your cock is harder than it’s ever, ever been; harder yet as you tease it at the folds of Miyeon’s entrance, pushing it against sensitive skin and earning you pleased little chirrups from deep in her chest, repeating, “yes, yes, yes—”

She’s only halfway down the buttons on her shirt, collar gaping open and lolling to the sides of her soft shoulders, sliding partway downway her arms, and then it’s that fucking tie still loosely hanging around her neck—so impossibly irresistable. The motion is practiced, near effortless: you slip right into the tight embrace of her creaming cunt. When she makes it through the length of a heavy breath through pursed lips, you sink even in further.

“Oh, this pussy is fucking incredible,” you sputter, voice come to reckon with the fucking bind that is Miyeon’s body, coiling beneath your weight the deeper you cock reaches inside her. “I don’t know that I could ever punish you. Maybe I should just spoil you, princess; get on my knees and make you cum on my mouth instead—”

“No.”

“What was that?” you coax, fucking into her cunt slowly, and your little girl growls at you. You can’t help but chuckle, making a tight grasp of the tie around her neck, and start to twist. 

Miyeon’s flushed all over, eyes glassy, but emblazoned still, a spark of defiance in those deep shimmering pools that makes her all the more alluring. Her lashes flutter—whole body tensing in response—as your thighs crash into her, cock deep inside the tight grip of her cunt.

She feels amazing.

“Yes, please,” she tells you, huffing out the words and changing her tune as you begin to let her have you, let her revel in the determined rhythm of you fucking her like she’s come to expect. “God, yes, daddy please…”

It’s so easy to fuck Miyeon—muscle memory and learned behavior—so easy to sink your fingers into her ass, her thighs, her tits, wrap your arms around her waist and start fucking her so quickly it has her pussy so wet it’s not even slowing you down in the slightest when you pull harder on the tie around her neck, draw her writhing body into you, and start to use her.

“You’re fucking, god, you’re fucking tearing me open,” she tells you with her brows sinking over eyes screwed shut, “it feels so fucking good—tell me, do you like fucking me? Do you like fucking your little slut?

“Fucking love it,” you whisper against her ear.

It doesn’t even cross your mind for a second, whether she wanted to be fucked like this, wanted to be used and choked and pounded so hard her legs buckled and her muscles ached and she could barely remember her own name—she landed in your lap, flirted with this danger, both of you immediately aware of what all it entailed. 

Miyeon didn’t just invite it, the girl fucking craves it.

Just like this, she’s muttering, voice barely rasping into anything audible under the weight of your grip, fuck your little slut just like this—bathing your cock in the delicious cream and slick of her pussy so that you might fuck it all back into her. When she starts moving like this, body shaking in quakes and quivers, voice woven into her mewls and moans, you know she’s so fucking close, only in want of a little encouragement—

“There you go, good girl,” you breathe against her lips, kissing them abruptly, before letting her weight fall back to the vanity counter with just the slightest release of the tie in your fist. “Cum for me, princess, I know you want to—know you want to cum all over daddy’s cock. You’re practically sobbing for me, baby. Go ahead, just cum.”

Sheltered somewhere in quiet of those sloppy, wet, lewd sounds, the score of your cock sliding in and out of Miyeon, is the strangled cry that sneaks out of her throat, gasping: “cumming, I’m fucking cumming, please, I—god.”

Accentuated by the fact that her arms are still halfway trapped in the cotton of her shirt, she can’t do a thing from underneath you. She’s near trapped under the weight, the sheer tempo of at which you’re ruining her cunt. You’re ripping your name in moans and prayers off her lips and she can hardly move beyond that slight squirm in your arms, writhe in the way you mold her to you, overcome in pleasure at how she’s left so full, perfectly remade to the shape of your cock.

Her fingers are splayed across your ribs, holding you, bracing against you, and none of it’s anything you haven’t told her before—so pretty, take it so well, your cunt’s perfect, you’re perfect, so good sweetheart—but in aggregate, taking the length your cock, taking all of you, she shatters apart.

Your hands are on her cheeks, thumbing strands of tousled hair ever-so-gently back into place, and you’re feeling the way her skin burns bright red, feeling the way she gasps for air in shallow pants, feeling her cunt clench hard around you. It’s the moments like these, where she’s delicate to touch, soothed only by your lips pressed to the tip of her nose, her forehead—finding comfort in the arm she swings over your shoulders—she’s so wildly beautiful. 

“So fucking—” She lets her voice even out, and after multiple attempts, gets the words she wants in the right order: “so good, how do—so fucking good baby, how do you want? Cum. How do you want to cum?”

“Could fucking paint your pretty face,” you tell her, moving your hips back to life and fucking into her soaked, messy cunt slowly. The way you push a kiss into her soft lips—now wet and slightly swollen from how she’d been biting them—is a little at odds with the suggestion.

“Ha. I think I get it,” Miyeon starts, the shy smile filling her mouth taking over the shape of her ragged huffs and pants, “we throw daddy around a few times, and suddenly you’re afraid to cum inside me, is that it?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s not it at all.” The fact that she’s recovered an ounce of resolve, chip steadily reappearing on her shoulder, is nothing more than a facade, and you’re drawing back the curtain, finding her body still wracked, plenty malleable, puddied and easy to manipulate with a firm grip around her waist. “Let me show you.”

“And just what is it that I’m—” 

Miyeon’s voice breaks almost immediately as you turn her over in your hands. Her knuckles hit the vanity counter and her legs wobble where they land precariously on the floor. She’s so wet and well-fucked that the mess you’d made of her cunt is effortless to slip back into. You allow her more, pushing in as deep as you’ll go, faster than she can blink, faster she can think to protest. It’s the angle that makes her back arch with surprised, sudden pleasure. The depth that makes her eyes shut tight, a gasp not quite making it past her lips. 

Watch.

She can see it all, in the perimeter of fluorescent bulbs, reflection staring back at her. The way her porcelain skin lights aflame. There’s sweat beading across her forehead, blonde hair darkening at its roots. Her lips are parted slightly, tender swell cushioning the bite of her teeth—her eyes are hooded, chin tilting, and she’s watching herself moan and curse as you start to fuck her. She’s perfect, and she knows she’s perfect.

You pull her skirt forward over the round of her ass, fingers sunk into the soft skin, and fuck her harder, until the counter is shaking with it, until she’s crying out, any concept of shame or embarrassment long forgotten. 

“Oh, please,” she starts, settling into your cadence, feeling delighted at the way you fill her.

Her fingers are white-knuckled as she clings to the edge of the counter, and in between breathless little noises, these sharp gasps and whines or another, between the unyielding motions of your cock in her cunt, she writhes.

“Please, please, please, please make me cum again,” she barely manages, blathering and stuttering over her own words. “Please use this little cunt, fucking use me, fuck me, fill me—”

“Anything for my princess,” you say, and after pressing a long row of kisses into the curve of her spine—a heavy kiss of your lips into the sharp edge of her shoulder—you bring a hand to the back of her neck, the slippery-smooth locks of hair already bundled and begging for your fist, becoming your grip.

“Oh my god,” Miyeon mutters, watching her body bend to your will, arching backward into your cock and becoming flush all over. Her eyes flick up to yours, begging you to fill her deeper, fuck her faster, fuck her harder. “Daddy please…”

The way her cunt sleeves onto your cock is so hot, so wet, so unbelievably tight, especially when the fingers woven in her hair flex taut—and so does she—how could you ever think to do anything but?

You pull harder on her hair, tension building in the curving bow of her body, arching further and further into submission. Her face is close enough for you to kiss, to lean into her ear, to whisper, “Miyeon, baby, I’m going to make you cum again. Gonna make you cum all over my cock. Be a good girl for me and take it.”

Miyeon’s voice is flooded, drenched and soaked in meek cries. More so by the minute. She’s whining and gasping and fighting for air like she hasn’t been coached a thousand times on how to keep a clean image. Beyond the curses and filth, the nonsensical string of obscenities falling off Miyeon’s lips, it’s gratitude: “thank you, thank you, thank you, please keep fucking me, please just use me—”

It’s obscene, filthy, it’s practically pornographic–-all framed for her to see. Miyeon’s costume is still barely clinging to her tiny frame, coming off in pieces. And you’re sliding your hand across her smooth stomach, up her ribs and hooking fingers between the cups of her bra, until it comes down far enough around her waist that it simply unclasps and falls to the floor. Every time bring your hips forward, fuck your cock harder into her cunt, you track the movement of her body in the mirror: shoulders lurching, mouth gasping, tits shaking—Miyeon recoiling. 

Even the ribbon in her hair can’t stand against the intensity of it, untangling from her ponytail and falling to the counter, defeated.

Beauty is a picture in motion, and Miyeon is nothing if not elegant. You slow your pace to admire her, hands at her breasts, her waist, still holding firm around her hair and curling her body into your control. She whines louder when you kiss her temple, rasping against the sweat building in her hair. “Make yourself cum for me baby, fuck your little cunt on my cock until you cum again.”

“God,” Miyeon rasps, nodding slightly against you with her eyes carefully fixed on her reflection, and she starts to roll her hips—fucking herself and choking back a whimper every time she finds where it’s mind-numbingly sensitive, where she’s wet and needy and begging for the hard shape of your cock. It’s unbelievable how desperate she ruts against you, grinding her way to her own release.

“Such a good girl for me.” You’re reaching a hand down to her cunt, the hot mess between her legs, and you’re slipping your fingers around where your cock is inside her, skating your thumb across her aching lips, barely touching her clit—

“I’m gonna cum,” she moans out, breathless, “you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

A final kiss at the hot skin beside her temple, your nose in her hair—drowning in the sweet stench of her sweat, her sex—you’re telling her, “I know I am princess,” and when you release the grip you’ve made of her hair, Miyeon collapses, palms flat over the countertop.

It’s hard to miss, all written on Miyeon’s reflection in front of you, cheeks exquisitely red, lips slacking as she cums, brows twisting together and eyes heavily lidded—and that’s just what you can see. You fuck her quivering cunt, thrusts coaxed into this reckless chase as she spasms around you—holding tight to her waist, fucking her faster and faster until your cock is aching and you’re hunched over her, telling her what she’s been dying to hear: “I'm so close to cumming in your cunt sweetheart, you'll be so filled up and perfect that way, princess.”

There’s no mistaking it. Pleasure palpable in the reflection in front of you, eyes smoldering and holding onto you. The hold she has on your cock, the vice that is her cunt around you—it shouldn’t even be possible to feel this fucking amazing—is far and away too good for you to do anything else: you grab her hips, fuck hard and fast into Miyeon’s sopping cunt, and on a thrust deep and unrelenting, you let go. You can barely even register the way your cock pulsates, firing shot after shot into her tight hole.

Miyeon’s still stuttering and gasping for breath when she feels your cum pool inside her. Even like this, wracked, writhing, and barely held together, she’s breathtaking.

“God, fuck, it’s so good,” she cries out, face still spun in pleasure, in ecstasy, feeling you spill more and more inside her. “Can feel you cumming so much, daddy.”

And that’s how you stay, pouring want and jittery contentment into the air by way of your ragged breathing alone, for the remainder of the minute, the hour, what ultimately ends up feeling far too short. 

Her knees buckle and if you weren’t still pressing bruises into her hips, she’d sink to the floor, a hot mess, a real meltdown of a girl. So she remains right where she is as you soften slowly inside of her, until she has to nudge you off. And as you finally pull out, there’s cum still leaking from your slit, and you catch a glimpse of more leaking out from between her soft, reddened thighs, just a few drops that land on the floor, enough to make something inside you tighten with want.

You kiss her one last time, and say, “c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

-

“You need to come up with a better excuse than I needed to get fucked for when you show up like you are to costume,” you say a few minutes later, dabbing at Miyeon’s forehead with a handtowel. “They won’t be too thrilled with me messing up their handiwork.”

Miyeon leans forward in your lap, reaching around your shoulders and placing kisses into the broad shape of your shoulder. “I love the way you mess me up.”

You almost open your mouth again, to lodge a complaint, but nothing comes out.

(You’ve long avoided looking backward, the introspective stuff, the kind of thinking that makes your heart begin to ache in all sorts and manners of cliche. It’s difficult to look straight at the image, to take it in all at once—so full of regret and missed chances.

But for the first time in as long as you can remember, you believe in the things you’re afraid to say. As though you’re more than the weight of all your memories, that the darkness can remind you of where light can be. This is not the end of you, you remember, this is the beginning.

As though you fell so you could land next to her.)

-

It hits you in the middle of a workday. Nothing cathartic or dramatic about it like you’ve come to expect. Dramatic lighting, theatrical score, the meticulous scripting from a team of writers—there’s none of that; which is how you know it’s real.

Miyeon’s watching herself on the monitor. 

And there’s a part of it, you’ve come to understand, that never quite goes away, like listening to how your voice plays back on a recording, the uncertainty, those pangs of doubt—but you wonder, if perhaps, Miyeon can manage to enthrall and captivate even the greatest cynic, quiet her own insecurities and enchant even herself. She nods every now and again, wets her lips with her tongue when she hears her delivery, and furrows her brow. 

It’s not like that.

The sort of girl whose kisses can spin straw to gold—taste of liquor when she’s not even had any to drink—Cassis, juniper berries, gumdrops, sugar cane and molasses, all soft and steamy and sugary sweet. Quote, unquote. That’s what you said.

Don’t—

Please look at me when I tell you I love you. Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed, you will never be lovelier than you are now, we will never be here again.

The whole studio is watching it: the triumph of your lips on hers, holding her softly and kissing her like if you closed your fingers she might shatter into a million pieces. All they did was hold the camera, and it saw what it saw.

Miyeon looks at you, rubs your knuckles with her thumb and says, “you don’t like it.”

Something’s off.

“You think we need one more take?”

(It doesn’t really make sense—the fact that you can’t put a finger on it is bothering you more than anything else. It’s clean, perfect even; smells like a swimming pool: a bleached sea salt, a flower with chemical petals; and not in a good way. Looked at from another perspective, the scene is just as it’s written, as it was rehearsed, but you’re hesitating. And you don’t know why.)

“You think we need one more,” Miyeon says again, inquisitive.

You make a face, and Miyeon squeezes your fingers.

“Yeah. Okay. You think we need one more.”

“I suppose,” you say mildly, “if it’s not too much of a hassle.”

It’s not as simple as that. At least the way you see it. It rarely is. A better guy could probably recognize what it is you’re feeling and put it into words, but you are not a better guy. Spend too much time living on the words of characters and in the confines of a scene, you start to lose sense of the bigger picture. There’s you—outside of the frame, strangely unfamiliar at times, unknowable right now. There’s Miyeon, and she’s not just gorgeous and perfect like everyone knows her to be; she’s gorgeous and perfect to you.

“Here’s what I think,” Miyeon starts, staring straight through you, a pulsing rush of longing—the whisper, irresistible, magic that could make the sanest man go mad. You just want to hear me say I love you one more time.

Everyone’s eyes are glued to the monitors, witness to the story that is you and her, but you’re looking at Miyeon, directly at her, for once not even lost in the details—simply lost in everything, like a stone down a well. It does scare you. That of all things, she might be right.

-

The incident, as it will later be known, is more realistically a sequence of events, but no one has ever been interested in anything other than how it ends. 

(It's always the changes we don’t ask for that change everything.)

There are just a handful of scenes and shots that need to be filmed on location on an island in the Maldives, one that is just about everything you’ve grown to resent. Garishly extravagant resort, beaches of white sand so combed and manicured they yearn to be trampled, and the only locals in sight are either changing sheets or caked up in makeup and hanging around the hotel bar from the twilight hours of the evening and into the early morning. A real lovely place, you admit, maybe you’ll come back never.

It’s as if the universe cashes in on your bad karma all at once via the series of unfortunate events: your flight’s delayed, a storm turns a three hour layover into a two day nightmare, your bags get lost. And the moment you step onto the tarmac, the heat punches you right in the gut, and upon curling over in defeat, the humidity figures it’ll kick you right in the head—this all, by the way, before you find out the air conditioning in your room is fucked beyond repair and the hotel staff have no interest in helping you fix it.

When a series of mistakes has you shooting a scene over and over until you’re pretty sure it’s fruitless—that the exhaustion has brought you to your knees—you quickly find yourself starting to slip.

Miyeon’s standing next to the director, watching the scene playback, and hearing her say, “that’s better,” while everything that could ever go wrong in the history of linear time is happening is the best part of this whole debacle, if anything, for its raw comedic value.

The absolute worst of it, however, is the gaggle of bumbling entertainment journalists (the lowest of the low) following in the production’s wake. There’s a lot a ground to cover: the movie’s nearing completion, the premieres, the fact that everyone thinks you’re screwing Miyeon, the fact that you actually are—

How has working with your co-stars, Miyeon in particular, bettered your understanding of what it means to be an actor? The insinuation, if it’s even an undertone enough to call it that, you do find insulting.

Though it’s hardly the question that trips you up. It’s trifling. And when you force a smile, everyone takes your pandering at face value. Now whether it’s out of envy, confusion, plain old cynicism, possibly a mixture of the three, or just because the part of your brain associated with temperance and self control is melting at the current head index of a million and two, is unclear.

But you fuck up.

It’s under your breath, out of the corner of your mouth. It’s not even directed at anyone in particular. The challenge here—the thing that will come to ruin you in about one media cycle—is that the damn microphone clipped to your shirt is still absolutely live, and it’s broadcasting every thought that should stay quiet:

Acting? From Miyeon? Hah. Swallowing cum maybe… but acting?

You fuck up bad.

[fillinforlater]

One-Shot Masterlist

The is the part of my Masterlist with every one-shot story that will (most likey) not get a squeal, sorted by group. It starts off with how my original Masterlist was sorted, so scroll down to find you favorite idol/group. For bigger, orgy-type smuts with multiple idols (2+), look at the (features), though some are in Series' ;)

IZ*ONE One-Shots are in my IZ*ONE Masterlist, all series' are in my Series Masterlist!

IZ*ONE MASTERLIST HERE

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Stats: 80 Links; 51 Stories linked; 40 Groups with 111 Idols written

GFRIEND/VIVIZ

Yerin - Say It Again

Eunha, Umji - Commas, Colons, Cumming 

Sinb, Eunha - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 1)

Sowon, Yuju, Yerin, Eunha - Vexatious (orgy, 17some) (futa!Eunha)

+

ITZY

Yeji - Dazed (ft. Yoojung)

Yeji, Yuna - C.Ollection (super orgy, 10some)

Yuna - Maknae Royale (orgy, 9some)

Lia - (T)highly likely

Chaeryeong - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Lia - Series Masterlist (Phone)

+

Weki Meki

Yoojung - Dazed (ft. Yeji)

Yoojung - Carry a Stranger (Quickie)

Rina - Vexatious (orgy, 17some)

Doyeon - Series Masterlist (Possession of the Queen)

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I.O.I

Yoojung - Dazed (ft. Yeji)

Yoojung - Carry a Stranger (Quickie)

Somi - Let It All Out (Quickie)

Somi, Chungha - Plan B

Somi - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Somi - Maknae Royale (orgy, 9some)

Doyeon - Series Masterlist (Possession of the Queen)

Mina - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

Chaeyeon - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

+

TWICE

Dahyun - Commitment

Dahyun - Scandal (Quickie)

Dahyun, Mina, Sana - Kim Corruption: The Video Version

Mina, Tzuyu - C.Ollection (super orgy, 10some)

Mina, Sana - Four Cherries (IZ*ONE + TWICE 5some)

Mina, Nayeon - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Momo, Chaeyoung - Hot Helping Hands

Momo - Teased Promotion (Quickie)

Mina - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 1)

Sana - Series Masterlist (Phone)

Nayeon - Series Masterlist (Phone)

Tzuyu - Series Masterlist (Phone)

Jeongyeon - Series Masterlist (Phone)

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aespa

Karina - Do-Nothing-Day (fluff)

Karina - Mildly Unfair (ft. Wonyoung, Eunbi)

Winter - LOYAnaL (Quickie ft. Chaewon)

Winter - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

NingNing - The Pull (ft. Hyewon)

Winter, Karina - Vexatious (orgy, 17some) (futa!Karina)

Giselle - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon Series - Season 1)

Karina - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon Series - Season 2)

+

Dreamcatcher

Yoohyeon, Sua, Gahyeon - Labyrinth of the Six (Everglow vs Dreamcatcher 7some)

Yoohyeon, Sua - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Gahyeon - Maknae Royale (orgy, 9some)

Handong, Siyeon, Dami - Vexatious (orgy, 17some) (futa!Handong)

JiU - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon Series - Season 1)

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WJSN

Exy - New Lyrics

Luda - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon Series - Season 1)

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EVERGLOW

E:U, Sihyeon, Aisha - Labyrinth of the Six (Everglow vs Dreamcatcher 7some)

Yiren - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Yiren - Maknae Royale (orgy, 9some)

Yiren - Series Masterlist (Phone)

+

fromis_9

Jiheon, Chaeyoung, Nagyung - C.Ollection (super orgy, 10some)

Hayoung - The Gamer and the Pornstar (ft. Sakura of IZONE)

Hayoung, Nagyung - Vexatious (orgy, 17some)

Jiheon - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon Series - Season 2)

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IVE

Yujin - Inspection Day (ft. Eunbi, Chaewon) TW

Yujin - C.Ollection (super orgy, 10some)

Gaeul - Beautiful, Beautiful Power (futa!Gaeul)

Gaeul - Paradise (fluff/angst)

Gaeul - Pink Sheets of the Gangbang Queen (Quickie)

Rei - Two Selfies (Quickie)

Rei - Two Selfies and a GIF

Liz - Perfection, We Find

Wonyoung, Rei, Gaeul - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Wonyoung - Maknae Royale (orgy, 9some)

Yujin - Series Masterlist (Eleven to One-Universe)

Yujin - Series Masterlist (T[w]o find love)

Gaeul - Series Masterlist (T[w]o find love)

Gaeul - Series Masterlist (Blonde)

Rei - Series Masterlist (T[w]o find love)

Rei - Series Masterlist (Double Stacked)

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Kep1er

Xiaoting - Changer (Quickie)

Xiaoting - To Share A Drink (ft. Shuhua & Yuqi)

Xiaoting - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Xiaoting, Yujin - Highkey (Quickie)

Dayeon - Dayeons Disciplinary Diary (with Chaehyun & Xiaoting)

Hikaru, Bahiyyih, Youngeun, Yeseo - A Keplian Rocket (Quickie)

Xiaoting - Series Masterlist (T[w]o find love)

Xiaoting - Series Masterlist (On her)

Chaehyun - Series Masterlist (T[w]o find love)

Chaehyun - Series Masterlist (Double Stacked)

Dayeon - Series Masterlist (T[w]o find love)

Yujin - Series Masterlist (T[w]o find love)

Mashiro - Series Masterlist (T[w]o find love)

Mashiro - Series Masterlist (A member for the members)

+

CLC

Seungyeon - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Yujin - Series Masterlist (T[w]o find love)

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LOONA

Heejin - In Vino Veritas (Quickie)

Heejin - The Real Daddy (Quickie) (futa!Heejin)

Gowon - Revelation in a Shower

Yeojin - You asked for it

Yeojin, Jinsoul - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Yeojin - Maknae Royale (orgy, 9some)

Heejin - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

Hyunjin - Series Masterlist (On her)

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LE SSERAFIM

Chaewon - Four Cherries (IZ*ONE + TWICE 5some)

Chaewon - LOYAnaL (Quickie ft. Winter of aespa)

Chaewon - Inspection Day (ft. Eunbi, Yujin) TW

Chaewon, Sakura - Fanmating (3Kim Quickie ft. Minju)

Chaewon, Sakura - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Sakura - Legendary Cookies (IZ*ONE 6some)

Yunjin, Kazuha - When Life Gives You Bandmates, Make A Mess Out Of Them

Yunjin, Kazuha - HCHQ - Double Team (futa!idols)

Chaewon - Series Masterlist (My Kinky Wife)

Sakura - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 1 & 2)

Kazuha - Series Masterlist (On her)

Yunjin - Series Masterlsit (My Kinky Wife)

+

Red Velvet

Yeri - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

Yeri - Maknae Royale (orgy, 9some)

Irene - Series Masterlist (On her)

Seulgi - C'mon (ft. Jini, Haewon) (idol x idol)

+

woo!ah!

Nana - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

+

(G)I-DLE

Shuhua, Yuqi - To Share A Drink (ft. Xiaoting)

Miyeon - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Minnie, Yuqi, Miyeon - To Glide (idol x idol x idol)

Minnie - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

Shuhua - Series Masterlist (Phone)

Miyeon - Series Masterlist (On her)

+

StayC

Isa - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

+

gugudan

Mina - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

+

Rocket Punch

Yeonhee - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

+

Girls’ Generation

Tiffany, Sooyoung - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Yoona - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

+

DIA

Chaeyeon - Series Masterlist (Spaceship: Horizon - Season 2)

+

Weeekly

Monday - Series Masterlist (On her)

+

BLACKPINK

Rose - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Rose - The Interview

Jennie - Series Masterlist (On her)

+

Apink

Bomi - Series Masterlist (Phone)

+

NewJeans

Minji - Dr. Minji (Quickie)

Minji, Hanni - Glossy Friendship (futa!Minji)

Minji - Series Masterlist (On her)

Hanni - Series Masterlist (On her)

+

KARD

Jiwoo - Helping my divine friend with something although she could help herself because I’m such a nice guy but I really misjudged things and now they go wrong 

+

cignature

Jeewon - Fresh, Right from the Source

+

Oh My Girl

Arin - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Yooa - GAMBLE (futa!Yooa x Female Reader)

+

Soloist

IU - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

+

MAMAMOO

Hwasa - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

+

NMIXX

Sullyoon - Just Testing (super orgy, 31some, scroll down for link)

Sullyoon - SULLied MINd (ft. Minju)

Jini - C'mon (ft. Seulgi, Haewon) (idol x idol)

Haewon - C'mon (ft. Jini, Seulgi) (idol x idol)

+

LIGHTSUM

Sangah, Chowon - It takes two to shut her up (futa!Chowon)

+

Purple Kiss

Swan - Maknae Royale (orgy, 9some)

Goeun - Vexatious (orgy, 17some)

+

tripleS

Sohyun - Series Masterlist (A member for the members)

+

Pixy

Sua - Vexatious (orgy, 17some)

+

Lovelyz

Sujeong - Vexatious (orgy, 17some)

+

TRI.BE

Hyunbin - Vexatious (orgy, 17some)

#

Link for Just Testing

#

[karinab00bs]

Hi everyone!

Here’s the masterlist

Also i’m excited to announce that I'm opening free requests for long stories NSFW.

Here are some rules to keep in mind:

No minors idol

No trope requests, I write based on my mood

Only writing gg idol x male reader

Updates when i have a time🙂

If you're interested, please send me a message or click the button for 'ask me anything' and send me the idol’s name with the group’s name!

[808airsoftbros]

My Wives Reaction to You Getting Harrassed at Work (Haseul/Vivi/Yeojin/Nana/Miyeon)

Author: Suddenly felt inspired to write this after listening to a creepypasta story. Anyway hope you enjoy and if you want to check out more of my works do go to the Masterlist :)

Cho Haseul

You were being bullied by your co-worker and your manager was doing nothing about it since he was his son

Being the mother of the family she wouldn't tolerate such treatment for her loved one

"What?! Let me talk to your boss!"

Would confront the manager or the main corporate office no matter how much you begged her not to

At first your manager would laugh at her until he realized that your wife was a famous kpop Idol

In just a split second, he was on his knees begging her not to expose the company and what was going on behind the scenes

"P-Please don't report this! I need this job to pay for my rent! I'm sorry not only I'll fire my son! I'll give him a raise or hell even a promotion!"

In the end, the awful and useless co-worker was fired and of course, he didn't take it too well seeing his own father screwed him but she had private security on stand-by just for this particular result

However after just five months you'd quit that job and work at a bigger company but you were still grateful for what she did for you

Vivi

You were refused a raise despite all the hard work and effort you put into the company and when you just decided to work the bare minimum you were written up for being "lazy"

"What are you serious? What fucking idiot for him not to see the talent inside of you!"

Vivi would've taken a little much of different course of action to the situation

She would first consulted Haseul who's the head of the household and recommended reporting this to your boss's supervisor

But seeing that the CEO was just as useless greedy as the manager she ended up just buying the whole company

"W-What is this?! An ownership contract?!"

"Well, sir, you should've thought about this before treating my husband like shit so from now on, I'll be running this company,"

In just no time you became her secretary and it was a win-win for the both of you now that you get be at her side 24/7

Nana

You got a customer complaint from an actress whom Nana happened to once partnered up with in the past

She'd be perfectly calm about the whole situation and unlike Vivi and the others she'd handle it her own way

"Okay darling, just leave her to me and don't worry about a thing okay~?"

Confused at first but you decided to let her run the show and enjoy it from a safe distance because you know well it will get a bit messy

She'd review the surveillance footage and prove you were just doing your job enforcing the company's policies thus making the actress the guilty one

When she gathered enough evidence, she'd confront her former co-worker and obviously she denied it and made up stories that you were being rude

"Is that so? Well, mind explaining this?"

Shocked and caught red-handed, she knew her life would be over at this moment knowing Nana could just end her career in the blink of an eye

"I-I'm sorry! Please don't turn this into the media!"

Luckily for her, Nana was in a kind mood so she just asked her to apologize, and quickly she obliged

Cho Miyeon

Miss Cho Miyeon is someone you don't want to mess with especially since she is Lieutenant of the (G) I-DLE mafia

The second she heard that you were targetted by your company she wouldn't hesitate to send men to burn their building to the ground

"What is that, my dear? Are they bothering you? Are you okay? I can just send some of my guys to burn the damn place to the ground."

Of course, you begged her not to as this wasn't the first time she committed mass murder and arson

But she'd just bought the whole company and transformed it to serve the Mafia clan

You wanting to continue to live a normal life would just get hired by a different company with better co-workers and management

"Aww~ Baby are you sure you don't want to join us~?"

Sure the offer was tempting as you'd love to be close to Miyeon but it was too much of a risk having a target on your head 24/7

Im Yeojin

Being the youngest of the family and step-sister she'd be mostly concerned about your health and well-being

"Oppa, are you okay?" "Do you need some cuddles~?"

Yeojin wouldn't really do much besides just informing her mothers

"Eomma! Oppa was being bullied! It was his boss again!"

Sadly nobody would take her that seriously as she was too adorable to be intimidating

However she doesn't need to do anything as her Eommas take care of everything for her

"Baby! Eomma said that she voted the CEO out of his office so she's in charge! Isn't that great?!"

For the rest of the night, you two cuddled in her bedroom after partying

[prael]

Rivalry

Kinktember Day 8: Hate Sex

(G)I-DLE Shuhua x male reader smut

words: 4,799 Kinktember Masterlist

School rivalries can get fierce, but none as fierce as this one.

It's been drilled in since the very first day, no matter what class you were in. From math tournaments to football games, these schools live and die by their standing. If one of them wins, the entire school wins. If they lose, then the school loses with them.

The fun in this rivalry has long since been drained from the system, replaced with spiteful desperation and a toxic desire. The sort of thing that has spilt well beyond the competition hall or the sports field, so much so that local authorities have had to step in for the safety and peace of mind of the students who might've gotten hurt in the chaos.

Needless to say, no individual is really to blame—or maybe all of them are.

You're coming off the back of a crushing victory at the start of this year's Summer Cup, bringing home an early advantage that, to you at least, has meant you could finally take a breath of fresh air, relax, and support your school the rest of the way. You had been chosen for the bits of media coverage (some of this actually makes national TV) such as the post-game interview spots, something not particularly fun, but something that gives you a chance to enjoy the win and rub it in the face of the rivals. Meaning that you were late to the ice bath and the shower and you're now walking through the corridor alone, while everyone is outside awaiting the next game.

Everyone except her.

There's a girl, wearing an outfit in the colours of your rival. Her yellow (really short) shorts, and white top, rolled up to just below her bust.

"You're in the wrong place," you call out as she walks closer, but she says nothing and gives a casual side-eye as she tries to walk on by. This pisses you off, so you move to block her. "I said you're in the wrong fucking place."

"Funny," she replies through that contemptuous smirk is there. She doesn't even try to mask it. "Since you're the one that's in my way. Get lost."

"See that?" You point to the wall, to the crest of your school. "This is our building. You aren't supposed to be here. What? Can't you read?"

The girl, having fully shifted her attention to you at this point, folds her arms beneath her chest. "Oh, grow up. It's an athletics competition. This is an athletics centre. You can take your tribalism elsewhere, bud."

The nickname and condescending tone, the absolute nonchalance that this girl seems to be able to project when speaking to you...it does something. It sends a twitch through your fists. "My tribalism? You're the one sporting your colours in our building."

The girl makes a brief, sarcastic sound. "I hate you all the same, but that doesn't mean you can deny me using the toilet in here. Move."

"Why don't you walk your pretentious arse back out the door where you came from, find the one next door and use it instead? Just seems like some foolish excuse to come in here and sabotage us, you people have a track record of this shit."

"Yeah, or," she responds, giving the most fake smile, before taking a step forward into your space. "Maybe I really need to use a toilet. Ever consider that, smart guy?"

This close, you can really take a good look at her. From her petite and lithe, athletic figure, to her soft skin, and messy ponytail. Her demeanour, too, along with her hazelnut eyes and pouting lips. It takes a moment, but soon, you recognise her. This is Shuhua. Maybe the most vocal of your rivals. Known for her antagonistic behaviour, her temper, her endless mocking and recently her frustration with always coming second.

"I know you."

"Congratu-fucking-lations, now step aside unless you want me to piss down your leg."

You grit your teeth at her crude words, "Toilet huh? Okay. Use it, but I'm escorting you there and then back out of the building. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"I don't know, I'm a pretty skinny girl and you're a strong guy, maybe you could throw me pretty far..." Shuhua says as she steps past you. "You can wait by the door, fucking pervert."

You roll your eyes but don't dignify the insult with a response. Instead, you make sure to walk closely by her side and lead her to the ladies toilet. "You've got five minutes."

"Oh no. So scared," she drones before you swing the door open for her. She's about to step in when she stalls and glances up at you. "Sure you trust me? What if I... Oh, what if I leave the tap running and waste your water? How's that for sabotage?" Shuhua absolutely drenches her words in sarcasm.

You pull the door closed, forcing her to step inside without waiting for a reply. Once more, your fist twitches at the annoyance.

A couple of minutes pass before the door finally swings open and you watch as the girl saunters back out with a self-satisfied smirk. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Want to come in and check the taps?"

That, funnily enough, does make you laugh, if a little humourlessly. "Don't you ever get sick of yourself? Actually, scratch that, that was stupid to ask, of course not," you mutter. "You know, I almost feel sorry for your school. Having to deal with you must be a real fucking burden. Hey, what's that they say, one bad apple and all that."

"Ugh, the fucking ego," Shuhua shakes her head as if she can't believe the nonsense. "You're even worse in person." She sighs and gestures in a bid for you to lead the way back towards the exit.

"Sounds like jealousy to me," you retort and start walking, and she follows behind. "Doesn't feel great, does it?"

You don't have to look, her exasperated scoff speaks volumes. "Wow. Is this really what your school thinks? Of course, it is, why would I ever have thought differently. You are all so fucking alike. All stuck in this same, boring headspace. And for the record, no, it isn't 'jealousy'. There is no jealousy here because I, unlike you, can pull my head out of my arse."

She's nothing if not stubborn, and while you know she's trying to get a rise out of you, you bite, "You're all the same at that fucking school, this is who they raised. Vocal, obnoxious, bitter. Too much time caring about how you look rather than results—"

A door slams behind you. You turn. The door to the locker room. Shuhua has disappeared.

You rush into the door, throwing it open. Empty, or so it seems, but she has to be in here somewhere. You walk down the left row of lockers, taking slow, quiet steps. Listening, hoping to hear the smallest bit of movement. The crunch of feet, a giggle, the slight jangle of coins.

Nothing.

You're approaching the end of the row of lockers and nothing so far. You get right up against the corner, readying to quickly round it when you think you hear a small breath from just the other side.

Three, two, one, and you launch yourself around the corner.

Shuhua is right there, waiting, she grabs you by the shoulders and pins you against the lockers with a crash, before smiling sweetly.

"What the fuck are you doing—"

You're immediately hushed by the feeling of something soft pressed against your lips, followed by the press of a hand against your groin and a thigh, nestled right between yours.

It takes a moment. You're not quite sure how to process this. It's instinct more than anything that makes your hands come to grasp and clutch Shuhua's ass firmly. She grins and lets out an approving hum, slipping her tongue in while squeezing harder against your groin and getting another equally pleasurable response of you tightening your grip on her.

There's a few moments of this, kissing, back against the lockers, Shuhua against your chest. Then, your tongue meets hers, and she lets a soft moan into your mouth. A moment of weakness that allows you to shove her backwards against the wall with a thump. It takes less than a moment and you're both back at it again, clawing away at each other. Your body presses her into the wall, lips parting before briefly, quickly reconnecting. Shuhua doesn't resist, and not long after, you've parted the kiss, she's moved her lips to your neck and you're running a hand down her thigh.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you growl into her ear as your fingertips approach the edge of those frustratingly short shorts. "Did your little brain figure out you can't win these events so you have to find other ways to know what winning feels like? If you can't beat them, fuck them?"

The girl pulls herself from your neck and takes a fist full of your hair. "You piece of shit," she seethes. "Like you aren't desperate for this pussy."

You aggressively push your hand up under her shorts and she squeaks as you clutch the flesh of her ass in a tight grip. You pull her and she raises a leg around you. "This pussy? You have got to be kidding me. Have you seen the cheerleaders at our school?"

She uses her legs to push you aside, forcing you to swap positions with her. She has you against the wall now, and her hand has dipped down the front of your shorts. She's grinning, groping you in a tight, frustratingly wonderful, fist. "Bunch of bimbos who fall to their knees as soon as you turn on the charm."

"I didn't even have to turn on the charm for you. What does that say about you?"

She takes a firmer grip on your length and a loud groan escapes from deep within you. Shuhua can't help herself, her lips quirking into that insufferable smirk, her eyes shining. "It says that you couldn't take your eyes off my ass the entire walk down that corridor, you fucking animal. You were practically salivating. Just like you're doing now."

She uses her free hand to swipe her thumb against the corner of your mouth.

"Pretty sure that's yours," you tell her before you slide your hands up her exposed sides and slip your fingers under her shirt, pulling it up and she quickly raises her free arm so you can slip it over it and over her head, leaving it around the arm still buried into your trousers.

There she is, bra and tits on show and being fucking annoyingly hot.

Even if she doesn't stop you from undressing her, she still berates you for it, "Look at you, can't wait to touch them, can you. Are you really that simple? See a pair of tits and you get hornier than a fucking dog in heat?"

"So says the girl who can't get her hand off my cock," you reply, hand slipping beneath her bra and your fingers closing around her nipple.

She raises an eyebrow and looks down at her chest, "Did I say you could touch me there?"

"So now we're talking consent, Miss 'Grab-cock-ask-questions-later'?" you snarl, fingers rolling the nipple in between them. "A bit late, don't you think?"

Shuhua's really stroking you now, even with limited space inside your shorts, she's able to use her thumb to circle around your sensitive tip with each jerk. "Yeah, well. I didn't sign up to get molested by a dickhead like you."

"Right back at you."

Shuhua laughs a little then cracks a wicked smile, one that is as seductive as it is contemptuous. The girl shrugs, reaches a hand behind her and unclasps her bra. She takes her hand out of your shorts and lets it fall off with her shirt. Bare little tits with stiff nipples stare at you—and you stare back. "Never seen a pair before? Or just not a pair on a girl as hot as me?"

"I've seen better."

"Yeah, sure you have sweetie." Shuhua tugs at the waist of your shorts and underwear until she pushes them down to your knees. "You know..." she starts as her gaze drops down to your aching shaft. "There's a rumour at our school that all the guys in your school are decidedly average down there, and are real bad at using them," she looks you in the eye with an eager smile, biting her lip.

"Want to know what they say about girls at your school?" You grab a hand full of her tit in a tight grasp and squeeze her flesh firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp. "They say all the girls are sluts but are fucking terrible at giving head. Funny, since all you seem to do is run your mouth." You push her back until it's your turn to have her pinned against the lockers. "Here, I'll show you how you can put that mouth to better use."

Pushing down on her shoulders, you guide her to her knees. "Hey, I never said that I—" You jerk your hips and you hit her on the cheek with your length. "The fuck?"

"You've been licking your lips since you pulled my shorts down. Stop pretending this isn't what you wanted." You rub yourself against her cheek.

"I should tear this ugly cock right off," Shuhua says as she wraps her fingers around the base of it. Then, before you have time to register it, her mouth is already on you, engulfing your head. The sudden wetness around your most delicate part, her tongue dancing along it, the suction her mouth produces; it's hard to comprehend all of it. What she says and what her mouth is doing contradict one another.

Then her head begins to bob, her lips firmly wrapped around your cock. As she sucks, she simultaneously strokes it, making sure no bit of you remains unserviced. It doesn't take long for her to build a tempo, and it doesn't take long for you to want more.

Your hand locks around her ponytail and she shivers when you pull at it. She glares at you but doesn't complain and continues working your length. Her mouth feels absolutely exquisite—warm, wet, and tight. With every stroke, the desire to be buried inside her gets stronger. You groan, moving her faster on your shaft.

"Rip it off, huh? Look at you sucking me off like the needy little whore you are. Just look at you."

Shuhua moans into you and she keeps on sucking. The vibrations the noise creates are an absolute pleasure. Your hips buck and the motion takes the girl by surprise, who immediately gags as you hit the back of her mouth. She immediately goes to draw back but the hand locked onto her ponytail refuses her release.

"Where the hell do you think you're going," you force your hips forward.

And you're off. You begin facefucking this annoying girl, who struggles and chokes every time you go balls-deep into her mouth. Still, not once does she try to push your hips, or her teeth to bite. Not once does her head make any gesture to signal that she actually wants you to stop, or even ease off. It seems she's determined to prove that she's not only better than all your cheerleaders, or your classmates, but she's also determined to prove that she's capable of taking everything you give, and all without needing to ask for respite.

"You're so much prettier when you aren't talking," you taunt her.

As a response, she stabs her nails into your ass. Hard. The pain makes you roar, both in surprise and anger. Shuhua simply responds by sucking you harder.

As fun as this is, the urge to ravage her more is still incredibly high, even if that means pulling out of the confines of the girl's sinful mouth. You give it a good couple of minutes before you finally relent and let her go. You pull your hips back and Shuhua instantly coughs, splutters and falls backwards onto her rear.

"The fuck do you think you're doing? I'm not done with that. Get it back here." She spits those words at you angrily, looking almost disgusted, with spit drooling down her chin and coating her lips.

You look at her, hunched over the floor, panting, in only her little yellow shorts. Looking more beautiful and desirable than you ever remember her doing on camera or out on the track. You fall on your knees in front of her and push your hand into her shorts, causing her breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate.

"Well aren't you eager?" she hums, letting out a husky purr as your fingertips tease the delicate lips of her entrance. "What's up, couldn't take any more of my mouth? We're you going to cum so quickly? I know you've never had anyone quite like me before."

"Not even close to cumming," you sneer. "In fact, let's get one thing clear. I don't have standards as low as the boys in your school, I don't just cum at the sight of some tits and the feel of your trashy mouth." Your finger slips past her lips and a surprised moan escapes her throat. "God you're fucking soaked."

"Trashy?" she scoffs and slowly rolls her body in response to your intruding digit. "Should have seen your face with my lips around you, you fucking adored it, dickhead. If you want disappointment, try being in my shoes. This pathetic excuse for fingering? It's like when I did it for the first time."

"Yeah?" You drive a second finger into her and curl your fingers as you begin to stand, forcing her to follow you to her feet. You push your body against hers, pinning her to the locker, squishing those tits against you.

She lets out a taunting, "Yeah" this time, huskily, while arching her back a little, raising those beautiful breasts. "And my first time was real bad. I couldn't even make myself cum. Maybe we do have something in common." While she's talking, you're using your other hand to free her shorts and panties from her hips, sliding them over that juicy ass that you press against the cold metal locker. "I doubt you have ever made a girl c—"

You move fast and hard. Your fingers curled into her cunt, palm pressed against her clit, thrusting into her, and your eyes fall right onto hers, piercing, right into her soul. Her eyes widen with shock and then quickly darken and roll back. Those sweet, vicious lips of hers open as her mind is stunned into silence and her face contorts in pleasure. "Cute," you smirk, speeding up.

"I—I'm fine. You—" You push your other hand against her neck and you lean right against her ear.

"Shut your pretty mouth," you growl, you thrust your fingers deeper. Shuhua can't control the shocks of her own pleasure as she grows limp, her eyes rolling back, her moans coming out uncontrollably and rapidly. Her pussy is quivering, pulsing, you can feel her orgasm growing inside.

You push closer and kiss her as the muscles in her lower belly spasm, and she trembles as her cunt clamps down on your fingers. Shuhua pulls and scrapes her fingers along your skin. "Fucking god, fuck," the girl tries to continue to speak, but she is in total ecstasy. You drink the words directly from her mouth.

When you pull away, her body falls away from the locker, but you hold her tightly and dip a hand right under the curve of her ass, keeping her standing. You smirk triumphantly. "Who can't make you cum, bitch?" you tease her.

"Fuck you," Shuhua mumbles into your ear.

"Oh, you will." You shuffle across the room, finding the nearest bench and falling back onto it, pulling Shuhua onto you. "This is all you're good for, I bet." You pull your shirt over your head and then Shuhua throws herself against your naked body. Her tits press against your bare chest, and your stiff cock is trapped between your stomachs.

"We'll see," she breathes, running a hand into your hair and yanking at the locks as she pulls herself upright.

Your lips meet hers, a passionate and desperate union as the need to be in her consumes your every fibre. Tongues dance and your hands explore one another's bodies. Groping, stroking, touching, squeezing, grinding. When the kiss ends, she leans her forehead against yours, her eyes lidded.

"I hate you," you growl into the space in front of her.

"You too," she says, hoisting her hips up over your cock. With a mischievous and playful look in her eye, she furrows her eyebrows. "But you won't when this is over. You're gonna fucking worship me."

Before you can think to retort, she sinks herself onto you and, after what feels like a torturously long series of minutes of teasing and waiting, your bodies finally unite. Her inner walls are unbelievably hot and wet, squeezing down around you as if desperate for you to remain buried within her. Shuhua makes no attempts to hide her expression, her head rolls back and her teeth press down on her lip to conceal an enchanting whine. Her breasts press firmly into your hands as you hastily reach to cup them.

It doesn't take long at all for the pair of you to adjust, and you begin to pump your hips beneath hers. She's fucking down onto you too and it's a mess, there's no rhythm, two different bodies fighting to control a single movement, all the while searching desperately for the best result. You're on different wavelengths, and it's glorious, the chaos is addictive. It's raw fucking, and it's fucking amazing.

As frustrating and confusing as it is, nothing in the world feels better right now. Your chest heaving with every desperate gasp as she grinds onto you and around you, her lust-filled gaze still struggling to fight away your shared frustrations, it's raw and incredible.

"Oh God, right there." Shuhua squeezes her eyes shut and buries her forehead into the crook of your neck, her body shuddering and tensing with every push you make into her. Her pace on you is irregular, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. But as her orgasm grows inside of her, she sinks harder and deeper down upon you, taking you as deep as she possibly can and as often as you will give it to her.

"Bad at using it, am I?" you jest with a strained voice, slapping her ass hard as the impact causes it to ripple. "So bad that you're cumming already?"

"Tch." She goes to speak, to say something witty and defiant, but the sensation hits and her eyelids flutter, she twitches and lets out a shuddering moan as another climax hits her, "Ah fuck. God." Her nails dig into the skin of your chest, hard, painful enough that you hiss. "I'm doing all the work here."

"As you should be. Getting the privilege to ride my cock, the least you could do is break a sweat," you tell her.

She opens her eyes to flash you a glare and she slams her body down on your hips a bit faster. "You just know— that you couldn't— fuck as good as me."

Shuhua rides you mercilessly, completely lost in her desire to get herself off again. You enjoy the way her tits bounce and the way you can freely land a series of spanks on her bouncing ass.

"Guess that makes me more of a winner than you'll ever be." She tries to bite her lip, to hide it, but the pleasure that shines through her features is impossible to miss. She cums again, harder, no doubt about it.

This time, when the climactic orgasm subsides, she fights against her exhaustion with ragged, heavy breaths. You can see her lips twitch. Words escape her, so instead, she focuses on attempting to ride your cock even more mercilessly, just like earlier.

"Looks like you're all spent," you continue and push a hand onto her hip, steadying her before shoving her aside and away, pulling out. Shuhua topples and stumbles onto the floor, with her hands on the bench, breathing heavily. She's bent over the bench and her back glistens with a thin layer of sweat, her ass up in the air. Her body trembles with anticipation.

You don't hesitate. Not for a single second.

Before Shuhua can so much as open her mouth, you're behind her, your hands on her hips, her skin slick.

"Here's your loser's prize," you tell her as you slide back home, back inside her, feeling yourself plunged so deeply. Her thick ass presses against your hips and you spread it to push in deeper. You take in the beautiful view of her well-toned, petite back. The outline of every muscle stretches and flexes as she claws desperately at the benches as her pleasure is recharged, and restored, as though the fire is reignited with your touch. She lets out a soft little hiss, the briefest hint of displeasure that's quickly overcome by her passion for the raw sensation of sex. She relishes your presence and your length, and as she relaxes once more, she allows herself to sink into the rhythm of the rut.

You fuck her, taking pleasure in the way her body pushes back against yours, your balls slapping against her, and the obscene wet noises as you take her from behind. It's a dizzying crescendo, a desire so great that it cannot possibly be contained. To both yourself and Shuhua, desire cannot be denied, for you to cum inside her.

All you have left now is to pound the life out of this smug bitch's tight cunt, one hard, sharp, aggressive thrust after the other.

"Finally—" You raise a hand and bring it down upon the cheek of her arse. Hard, harsh, jiggling. The skin flushes and burns an angry red. She squeals in delight, she arches her body up as she takes the rough fucking. "Finally something useful has come out of your fucking school. One good pussy, just for me." Another slap. Another cry.

"Making me cum, is all you're good for. Just a cock," she spits back as her body shakes and bucks back onto your hardness, "One good fuck, just for me."

Shuhua straight-up shrieks when you wrap a fist up in her ponytail and yank her backwards, arching her spine. She cums again like this, and the hot rush of pleasure sends you spiralling off the edge yourself. It is utterly satisfying, the burning in your loins, and the immense pleasure that follows as your dick unloads in powerful spurt after powerful spurt. All of the tension evaporates, and all the negativity flows away as you find absolute pleasure. Shuhua takes what you give to her and it's absolute bliss.

For the longest moment, there's nothing but moans and grunts as you cum together before you let her collapse against the bench and you fall over her. Shuhua heaves beneath you, your warm fluids slowly leaking out around your exhausted cock. You suck in deep, gulping lungfuls of air as you grind out the final dying sparks of a well and truly mind-numbing orgasm.

"Still feel the same way about me now?" you groan. Your cock slips out, followed by a mixture of your combined orgasmic release.

Her head lifts. Hazel eyes focus and then fixate on yours. She almost manages to mask the grin, but she can't help it. Shuhua bites her bottom lip and glances at the space where, moments ago, your body had been conjoined.

"I still hate you. Don't think this means I'm suddenly a fangirl."

"Of course not, it's in your DNA to hate me. Just like how the sight of you still makes me sick." You place a kiss against the top of her spine and savour the brief hum of approval she gives.

"Uh-huh." Shuhua laughs. "Shame you couldn't last a little longer... I was just about to let you fuck my virgin ass." She lays her forehead against the cool wood of the bench, and you rest your head between her shoulder blades. "I guess my pussy is just too much for you."

"Or maybe," you hiss into her ear. "Maybe I'm saving that for the next time I catch your obnoxious ass around here."

"You think there will be a next time?"

"I know there will."

[girlgroupshots]

Under Arrest - (G)I-DLE Soyeon

pairing: Soyeon x Male Reader rating: Explicit word count: 1.3k content warning: contains (consensual) use of power play/power dynamics between a crime boss and cop.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Jeon Soyeon. Looks like you finally slipped up.”

Your haughty voice echoed as you closed the door to your cruiser, making your way towards the blonde-haired woman who was currently handcuffed and pressed against another officer’s cruiser.

Jeon Soyeon. The woman behind one of the largest criminal networks in Seoul. A fact that was the worst kept secret in law enforcement. Everyone knew what she got up to. Catching her on it with evidence that would stick, however, was a different story. For that reason, you could do nothing but watch as she went about her daily life, even making appearances at nightclubs and events as if she was a law-abiding citizen.

At least, it seemed, until now.

“I bet you thought you’d evade us forever didn’t you,” you tsked as she looked at you with an unflinching gaze. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it’d be an expired registration that finally put you away.”

“Is that you, Captain? I didn’t know they sent the head pig just for me,” Soyeon taunted.

As incendiary as ever.

You laughed off her insult. After all, you had heard worse in your time. Usually from people that worked for her. “I’ll take care of things from here,” you waved off the officer who had been standing guard with her, leaving the two of you alone. “Let’s make sure you’re not carrying anything that might hurt me.”

Without hesitation you grabbed Soyeon by her handcuffed wrists and spun her around. She let out a huff as you pressed her front against the car. Your hands moved over her hips, covered by her red dress down past where the hem ended and to her thighs.

“Isn’t this a little excessive for a car stop, officer?” Soyeon said, this time her voice practically taunting you. “You don’t have anything on me, why don’t you give me a ticket and stop wasting our time, yeah?”

“You really think we can’t make something stick?” you accepted her challenge. ‘Seems like you were dressed for a night on the town.”

“Did you want an invitation? Is that what this is about?” she replied with a smirk. "All you have to do is ask."

"Is that all it takes? A badge and a question and you're handing out invitations?"

As you spoke you trailed your hand up under her red, leather dress, sliding along her thighs. Any pretense of looking for a weapon was quickly disappearing. In response, Soyeon subtly but surely spread her legs for your touch. "Spreading your legs for anyone who asks? Is that the truth behind the legendary Jeon Soyeon?"

She huffed in response, her breath catching for a moment as your hand slid higher. "You must really struggle with the ladies if an invitation is so scandalous to you. Is this the only way you can get girls? By handcuffing them and pinning them to the car?"

That comment got to you.

You pushed the crime boss forward, bending her over the hood of her sports car. She let out a grunt, as her chest landed on frame, her head turning to the side. At this angle her ass was perfectly angled to press against your groin, her mini dress riding up to expose. “That smart of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

"If this is supposed to prove me wrong, you're doing a terrible job," as if to prove her point, Soyeon shook her ass against your groin. "Does fucking criminals turn you on?"

Your face turned red with arousal and anger. If it wasn’t clear by now this wasn’t your first rodeo with Soyeon. She was a constant presence and thorn in your side. And whether because of that or in spite of it, she knew how to push every one of your buttons. Of course, it didn’t help that was, in fact, the hottest crime boss in town. Pixie haircut, cherry lipstick, and red dress to kill. Most people would be too intimidated to ever talk back, let alone accost her. Authority included.

When she spoke again it was her taunting words that snapped you out of your reverie “Go ahead, I’ll let you touch me this time. Fucking with you is getting me wet.”

It was here that you could have left her wanting. Now that she was the one eager and asking for your touch it had given you the upper hand. But Soyeon was no fool. She wouldn’t have given you that power without knowing that you wanted it as desperately as she did. No matter how much you tried to talk tough. With that said, you still had little ways of sticking it to her so you weren’t just following orders.

“That’s so generous of you” you said, sarcastically. “But I can think of something better.”

Rather than run your fingers under her dress to feel her dripping arousal or sliding them inside of her, the sound of your belt unbuckling filled the night. Soyeon didn’t say anything at first, but she must have heard the sound as her head turned to the side, a slight smirk on her features and a curious eyebrow.

“You’ve gotten bold, Captain.”

“And you’ve gotten reckless” you chirped in response.

At the same time you freed your length from the confines of your pants, already engorged from the power play that had been going on between yourself and the crime boss. Lining your cock up, you prepared to slip inside her already excited pussy, “They caught four of your men dealing in the north part of town. Fuck.”

You grunted, trying not to moan too loudly as you entered her, rocking her body against the patrol car. Soyeon, on the other hand, was not nearly as subtle; openly moaning but not giving you too much. She was going to make you work for every sound.

“I told you…not to sell there…” you panted, rough thrust steadily building to a rhythm as you buried yourself inside of her.

Soyeon laughed, another pleasured moan leaving her as she did. “I may have gotten a little greedy. Is this my punishment for making you do a little extra work?”

“Something like that.”

The truth was you had been on Jeon Soyeon’s payroll from the moment she came to power. It was a business arrangement that came with it’s perks. More than a few clearly. And while everyone from your co-workers to her lackeys assumed that the two of you hated each other and were bitter rivals. They failed to be privy to the truth that you and Soyeon had grown up as childhood friends. Life had taken you on different paths only to later bring the two of you back together again.

“Better hurry, officer. You don’t know when they might call you on the radio” Soyeon taunted.

Despite her words you could feel her clenching around you each time you filled her. Her breaths becoming heavier even as she continued to play up your roles and tease you. In reality she was just as affected as you. Chasing the same high and release that you were. After this the two of you would go back to pretending to be bitter enemies but right now you felt it was okay to indulge just a little.

You hunched over Soyeon slightly, feeling her petite breast through her shirt as your pace quickened. This time she didn’t have a sharp retort but only managed another moan of pleasure as she rocked her hips back the best, she could to meet your efforts.

“Shit. Fuck…you…Smug bastard…!”

Her words trailed off into a cry as her thighs quivered, body shaking slightly as her orgasm ran through her body. It was all you needed to send you over the edge after her, pulling out and shooting your release to the side, landing on the ground and cop car. You grunted, leaning slightly onto Soyeon as she pressed her face into the vehicle in an attempt to regain her own breath.

“Ha…ha…What are you going to tell your men when they hear an officer made you cum?” you taunted.

Soyeon rolled her eyes, panting slightly, “Shut up and get me out of these cuffs.”

You couldn’t help but grin to yourself. Some might think you were wrong for helping a criminal who happened to be your childhood friend. But it had its benefits.

author’s note: bringing this over from ao3. there isn’t enough soyeon appreciation honestly.

if you enjoy my work and are able to support, consider supporting me on Ko-fi!

[iphone18pham]

Dating The Shuhua

Disclaimers! Bad grammar, Not Proofread

Paring: Shuhua x G/N Reader

Masterlist: GG,   BG

Genre: fluff

Synopsis: Just headcanons for dating shuhua.

Requests are open!!!

1. Shuhua is very affectionate and loves to show her love for you in public. She likes to hold your hand, hug you, and give you little kisses on the cheek whenever she can.

2. Shuhua is also very protective of you, especially when it comes to other people in the industry. She will make sure that no one disrespects you or makes you feel uncomfortable.

3. Shuhua loves to cook and will often surprise you with your favorite dishes. She also likes to bake and will make you sweet treats whenever you're feeling down.

4. Shuhua is very supportive of your career and will always be there to cheer you on. She loves to watch you perform and is always proud of your accomplishments.

5. Shuhua is very playful and loves to tease you in a cute way. She'll make silly faces and playful remarks to make you laugh.

6. Shuhua is very adventurous and loves to try new things with you. She'll suggest going on spontaneous trips or trying new foods together.

7. Shuhua is very caring and will always be there for you when you need her. She'll listen to you when you need to vent and give you advice when you need it.

8. Shuhua is very romantic and loves to surprise you with little gestures of love. She'll leave you love notes or surprise you with a date night.

9. Shuhua is very loyal and committed to your relationship. She'll make sure that you're always happy and will never give up on you.

10. Shuhua is very understanding and accepting of your flaws. She loves you for who you are and will never try to change you.

Bonus:

11. Shuhua would definitely have a twerking competition with you just for fun anywhere and everywhere. On a stage, at the dorms, or just when it's the two of you. anywhere anytime anyplace you name it and it is happening.

[unstable-samurai]

The Shy Nerdy Best Friend is Actually Pretty Cool... and Hot

Minnie x Male Reader

one-shot

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, Confession, babying, drunk reader, penetration, blowjob, cumshot...

You don't remember much from that night. One of the few alcohol-induced blackouts you've had in your life, with fragmented memories blurred like a distant dream, some real, others not. Vague, like the first memory of your childhood, but not as special. Based on what Minnie said, you were brought to her house by some of your "friends" after drinking all you could at a stupid party you didn't even want to go to. The idea was for Minnie to take care of you, 'cause, in the condition you were in, staying alone at home was risky and, well, none of your "friends" - and these were their words - would act like your "mother"...

except for her...

The doorbell rang around 09:30 PM.

She answered the door with curious astonishment, probably having been asleep when this hurricane of voices hit her door.

"He's all yours!" said one of your friends, pushing you towards Minnie.

"HEY, WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!" she asked alarmed. "... What happened to him...?"

"He's drunker than the devil. We brought him here for you to keep an eye on him," said the other friend, the one who drove to Minnie's house.

"Me?!"

"Of course. We're not his mom to take care of the guy." They looked at each other and laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world. "You've done this before, right?"

"No. Last time he was sick. I don't know how to take care of a drunk person!" she tried to explain while using all her strength to keep you upright.

The problem was that you weighed almost twice as much as she did.

"Great. It's practically the same thing!"

"We're going back to the party! Tell him to call us tomorrow. See you later, babe!" he said, ironically, of course.

"Hey... are you okay?" Minnie asked you.

"Your hair is all messy," you said, messing up her hair even more.

"I was napping on the couch. And you're a complete mess. But let's get inside, you weigh more than a bull!"

You put your arm around Minnie and dragged yourself into the house with her. She helped you sit on the couch; your head was spinning and everything seemed terribly distant. When you looked at Minnie, she seemed to be staring at you, but you weren't sure. In your state, even her action figures seemed to be watching you.

"I think I'm bothering you. I am, aren't I?" you asked. "I can go home. I can walk just fine."

You made a motion to get up.

"Sit down, idiot!" she said, pushing you back onto the couch. "It's okay. I'm just worried about you. Did you take any drugs?"

"Hmm, I don't think so," you replied, terribly sincere.

She brought you a glass of water. While you were drinking, she asked:

"I tried to talk to you several times today. I called and texted you. I thought we were going to marathon that stupid Hobbit trilogy.”

"Looks like I had better plans," you replied sarcastically.

"Uh-huh, it seems so..."

"Can I lay my head on your lap? I want you."

You didn't notice, but she blushed.

"Alright, I guess."

You laid your head on her lap and closed your eyes. Minnie started to gently stroke your hair.

"You should stop going to those parties. There's nothing good about them. And your friends always abandon you at the end of them."

"I wished you were there with me," you confessed.

"You know I don't like parties. And if I went, your friends would probably just laugh at me if I were there."

"That's true. It's really true. Damn, it's a damn truth... I think I drank to try to forget about you a little." You revealed suddenly. "I was feeling bad for breaking my promise to you."

"Why didn't you want to come?"

"I've been a little irritated with you lately."

"Why? What did I do?! I'm sorry! ... But what did I do?"

You laughed like an idiot.

"Your way, your tastes, your clothes, your voice, your smell irritate me... man, the list is long."

She immediately stopped stroking your hair.

"Oh... got it."

"All of that irritates me because I... because I love all those things about you and I can't admit it. It irritates me that you're perfect... in a good way. Sorry. "You hugged her around the waist, hiding your face in Minnie's belly, who stood paralyzed.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"You're so good to me while I treat you terribly. I wish I were a better guy." You commented, sounding like an embarrassed confession.

"No, no! You treat me so well! You're so sweet to me."

"No... it's just... when I'm with my friends, they make jokes about you and say I hang out with you just to get easy sex or whatever... The problem is I never raise my voice to defend you, I just sulk or change the subject like a damn coward. No one should talk about you like that... Damn, I think I'm going to vomit!"

"Ew! Don't vomit on me!”

You stumbled to your feet and Minnie guided you to the bathroom. You managed to make it to the toilet in time, avoiding vomiting all over her bathroom.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

You waited for the sound of the toilet flushing to pass, then replied, "You could have held my hair while I was puking. Where are your manners?"

She chuckled and sat against the bathroom wall.

"You're such an idiot, you know."

"Do you still want to watch The Hobbit trilogy?"

"It's already too late, and besides, in your state, you wouldn't be able to focus on staring at a wall for 1 minute."

"I guess you're right."

"Hey, seriously, you should stop hanging out with those guys. They're not your real friends."

"I just hang out with them, you know, so I'm not alone."

"You have me."

You silently observed Minnie for too long, making her start to feel uncomfortable. You tried to think of something good to say to her, something that would make her feel better, because, well, after revealing that those guys were mocking her behind her back, it was the least you could do.

"Is that Tweety?" you asked, pointing to her blouse.

"Yep! Do you like it?"

"It looks like you. The glasses and all. It's pretty cute. Do you think I could get a Tweety shirt?"

"Finding a male Tweety shirt for you will be tough."

"No problem. I'll definitely look better in that baby tee than you, no offense. By the way, is Tweety male or female?"

"Tweety is male!"

"Ah, I never noticed."

"Hey, I was serious when I said you have me. You like me, right? We're friends?"

"Minnie you are my best friend, please."

"Then it doesn't make sense you to hang out with people who are constantly mocking me. Now that you've said that, I won't accept you continuing to be friends with them and me at the same time!" she protested.

"Hmm... Okay. That's fair. I'll kill all of them for you."

"I'm serious. You're going to have to choose between me or them."

"I choose you. You, Minnie."

You clumsily crawled over and hugged her, squeezing her small body against yours, which was one of your favorite feelings.

"Okay, okay. I get it! But I don't think this is the most hygienic place for us to hug." Minnie helped you to your feet. "Go take a shower and see if you can get rid of that vomit breath.”

“If I do everything right, do I get a kiss?”

“No way! You’re drunk. In the morning, I want you saying all this to me again. If it’s really true, then tomorrow will be a very special day for me…”

“I love you, Minnie,” you whispered, looking into her eyes. “I want to be your man so badly. It even makes me feel like crying when I think about it.”

She playfully tapped your chest and pushed you away, giggling nervously.

“I love you too. I really do,” she said with a shy smile. “I’ll get some clothes you left here for you to wear. Please don’t slip in the bathroom because I won’t have the strength to lift you.”

"I'm not an idiot to slip in the bathroom."

"But you can act like one sometimes." she said, before closing the door.

"Do you want to play Mortal Kombat?" you asked Minnie as she dried her hair with the hairdryer in her room.

"WHAT?!"

"I asked if you want to play Mortal Kombat!" You said, now louder. "This darn hairdryer sounds like a jet engine!"

She turned it off.

“If I beat you while sober, imagine drunk as you are now. No, you need to eat. Soup will be good for you."

"Cup Noodles, that's it!"

"No! Real soup. Light and with vegetables. I actually ordered some."

"Ah," you grumbled disheartened. "I've lost my appetite."

"But you're going to eat!"

"Fine, fine! If you insist... Hey, is that a Smurf on the table?"

"My goodness, you look so lost when you're drunk. Like your brain has shrunk," Minnie said casually, trying to hide a laugh. "That's a Squirtle. And you're the one who gave it to me as a gift."

"This is actually quite offensive on your part. I'm sharper than most drunks."

"Aw, don't be offended." She pinched your cheeks like a baby. Minnie was definitely taking advantage of the fact that you were drunk.

And in a way, you thought she was entitled to it.

Once again in her lap, you ended up discovering that night that this was your favorite place. Warm and protected from any harm. And even intoxicated, sparks of lucidity allowed you to see through the smoke that hovered over your mind. No, better than that, it allowed you to feel the security that Minnie had when she was by your side, singing "Gravity" by Sara Bareilles to you. And singing was something she didn't do around anyone; insecurity and shyness prevented her from doing so. In this way, she hid one of her greatest talents because she sang in an angelic manner, extremely comfortable with her own voice, sounding good without any instrument to accompany her. The fact was that if it weren't for the headache, you would have been sure you were in a sublime dream.

"That was the best lullaby I've ever heard," you murmured.

"I thought you were already asleep."

"Sing more."

"No, that's enough. You need to sleep."

"I want to hear you sing every night," you said, and Minnie laughed because you wore a silly, goofy smile. Apparently, your facial expressions weren't entirely under control.

"I hope I can sing to you every night. Just for you." Minnie slid her finger slowly across your nose, watching you with an enigmatic expression. She took advantage of the fact that your eyes were closed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Uh-huh... sure," you mumbled.

"Have you always been ashamed of me? Regardless of your answer, it won't matter because you're drunk."

You immediately stood up from her lap, feeling dizzy and alarmed, but rational enough to say:

"I want you to meet my parents, Minnie. Um, I was planning to tell you tomorrow, after you agreed to be my girlfriend. So consider this a little spoiler. I want to hold your hand and have the right to call you 'mine.'"

"Do you swear?" she asked, her lips trembling.

"Yes. All this time, the girl of my dreams has been right by my side, and I ignored it. My face is red with embarrassment now. From tomorrow onward, I'll make it up to you, and if you give me a chance, I'll make you feel special every day. Just as you deserve."

"Besides bad jokes and terrible taste in movies, you're also quite good at romance. God, I wish I could kiss you right now..."

"Okay, so I'll do it in your place. Excuse me, I'm going to kiss your forehead," you said, leaning closer to her.

Amid giggles, she asked: "What are you doing?"

"If you'll allow me..." You lifted Minnie's bangs as if checking her temperature and then planted a quick kiss on her forehead.

"You're such a goof, my goodness."

"And I'm also crazy about you."

"Let's hope these things still hold true tomorrow," she remarked, and you saw her eyes sparkle for you. "I want to believe..."

"Wait, was that an X-Files refer-?"

"Yep!" In fact, she said it by chance. "You're definitely sharper than most drunks."

“I told you, I told you!”, you exclaimed like a child.

The bedroom curtain wasn't fully closed, so a beam of light at 8:30 AM came through the window and hit your eyes, warming your skin until it became unbearable, and you opened your eyes to the whitish view of Minnie's room. Your vision returned to normal as your mind assimilated the facts. How the hell did I get here? And why am I in Minnie's bed? Oh, and It was strange for you to be in her room because when you slept at Minnie's house, you usually slept on the couch. It was hard to recap the events of the previous night, but they came to your mind in the following way:

I went to the party.

I was sad because of confusing feelings.

I drank.

I drank.

I drank.

I drank a lot.

Some of my "buddies" took me to Minnie's house.

She took care of me. Again.

Hmm, yeah, things probably happened this way or a similar version of it.

You looked at the clothes you were wearing. It definitely wasn't that stupid Zelda shirt you wore to the party.

Holy crap. Could it be that Minnie helped me change my clothes?

You felt completely embarrassed and afraid to find out what happened the previous night.

‘Don’t be an idiot and face it like a man.’

Words from your father when the two of you talked earlier that month about your internal conflict over admitting your romantic feelings for a particular girl. He didn't care about most of your problems, but this one irritated him. Your ridiculous concern about others' opinions on your life, your girl, who you should date... And staying silent in the face of offensive comments about your friend... He almost threw that beer in your face. If you don’t confess your feelings to this girl, then another man will, and then it will be too late. And I don't want you here ruining my Sunday afternoon because of your stupidity. He didn’t know how to say things without sounding like a retired army colonel, but you thought you deserved to hear those words in that exact tone. The time had come to put your old man's advice into practice. You quietly left the room and went to the bathroom to wash your face. From the noise, Minnie was in the kitchen cooking something. It wasn’t in your plans to confess your feelings to her with a horrendous hangover face, but damn it, you hoped she loved you for what you had inside: guts and true feelings for her.

When you got to the breakfast table in the kitchen, there was a plate of scrambled eggs, a cup of coffee, and warm toast waiting for you. Minnie was wearing an adorable overall and a gentle smile was on her face. You loved this morning view and wished it could be like this every morning.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?" she asked, sitting at the table.

"I slept well," you said timidly.

"Come on, eat your breakfast." She insisted, and you joined her at the table.

"And you? Did you sleep well? You know I could have slept on the couch."

"Nah, you needed a real rest. Besides, the couch isn't that bad."

"Sorry for ruining your night."

"I saved you yesterday, you'll save me tomorrow," she said cheerfully. "Are you feeling okay?"

"My head hurts a bit, but just being conscious is a relief... By the way, you didn't change my clothes, did you?"

She put her hand to her mouth in a mock expression of shock.

"Oh my God! How do you remember this?"

"Oh, man! Fuck!"

"Just kidding! You changed yourself like a big boy!" she revealed, laughing at your reaction.

"Thank God!"

After breakfast, you helped her wash the dishes and clear the table. There was a moment of rest when you both went to the living room, the glorious morning light shining renewed, somehow lifting your spirits and giving you a bit of courage.

"Listen, Minnie, I'm not sure what I said or did yesterday. I have a feeling I might have dropped a bomb on you because I noticed you seemed a bit off during breakfast."

"I'm just a little anxious."

"I need to tell you that I've been in love with you for a while. And I've been feeling bad for not treating you the way you truly deserve. You might say it's no big deal, but to me, it is. It's something that causes me anguish, and now I want to change that if you'll give me a chance." You held Minnie’s hands, her eyes reflecting the hope in her heart, your actions feeling right and natural, without shame or hesitation in saying: "I love you, Minnie."

"I love you too. I think I've loved you since that day we shared an umbrella while walking back from the movies. You and I walking together in silence, our shoulders occasionally touching, and the rain falling around us... Oh, and you looked so handsome that day.”

"Minnie... Can I kiss you?"

You and Minnie started kissing on the couch, desire and emotion burning uncontrollably between you. Your lips met with a mix of nervousness and passion, the first kiss an electric shock that coursed through your body. She was the girl of your life, there was no doubt anymore. The reciprocity was a wet and intense response, a kiss with your tongues intertwining as you both had secretly longed for. Her hands began to explore your body, sliding over your muscles with a provocative softness. "I've wanted this for so long," she whispered against your lips, her voice laden with desire. The room seemed to heat up with the energy emanating from you, also radiant with the morning sun, the birds singing outside, and the tension between you dissolving as you surrendered to the moment. Your bodies moved closer and closer, the excitement growing with each touch and sigh.

As the kisses heated up, the intensity increased, and you lost your balance, falling off the couch in a tangle of bodies. "Oh, wait, my glasses!" Minnie exclaimed, and you gently took off her glasses and placed them on the couch. "You still look handsome, even slightly blurry," she said.

On the floor, your hands were eager, sliding over Minnie's body as you pulled down one of her overall straps, revealing the warm, soft skin beneath. With a quick movement, you removed the other strap, leaving her in just her striped top and bra. Minnie let out a low moan as she felt your firm hands lift her top, slowly exposing her small breasts covered by the bra. You pulled the bra straps down, freeing her breasts, and immediately began to play with them, sucking and squeezing them with a mix of softness and firmness. "Oh, yes, keep going," she murmured, her eyes closed and head thrown back, deliberately feeling the heat of your mouth against her skin. Her sighs filled the room, each touch and moan intensifying the excitement. Her skin was soft and fragrant, and the sensation of her nipples hardening under your tongue was very, very good.

After dedicating yourself to Minnie's breasts, you slid your lips down her abdomen, pulling her overall down a bit more. Your tongue traced a slow, teasing path, exploring the sensitive skin of her belly. "You're so hot, Minnie," you murmured between kisses, your voice full of desire for her. Minnie moaned softly, her hips moving involuntarily as you continued to adore her. "Lick me more, please," she whispered, her face flushed with excitement. Your lips and tongue explored every inch of her belly, each touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. The combination of gentle kisses and sensual licks made Minnie gasp with pleasure, her body arching with each new stimulus. "Mmmm, I love it when you do that," she moaned, her voice sweeter than ever.

You took off your stupid Zelda shirt (hoping Minnie hadn't focused too much on it). When it came time to take off your underwear, Minnie took charge, deftly pulling it off and tossing it aside without hesitation. She looked at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes before wrapping her lips around your cock. "I always knew you had a big cock; I could see how it bulged in some of the pants you wore," she revealed. Somehow, Minnie's sudden confidence made her even sexier, and your arousal ridiculously uncontrollable. The warm, wet sensation of her mouth around you was overwhelming, each movement of her tongue making your whole body tremble with pleasure. The sounds of sucking and Minnie's muffled moans filled the living room, a rhythm so pleasurable to hear. Watching her alternate between gentle and intense movements, driven by such devotion, was... beautiful, an erotic work of art for your eyes. Her lovely lips wrapped around your cock with such need, her hands caressing your thighs with so much care and love, Minnie's eyes never leaving yours. Her hair was loose, the perfect invitation to grab it and thrust your cock against Minnie's throat, helping to make it even wetter.

Minnie begged you to fuck her, feeling increasingly aroused. You sat on the floor, leaning your back against the couch as she finished taking off her clothes.

"Is this your first time?" you asked.

"No. I actually used to see a guy back in college; we had sex a few times, but he was terrible... You're suprised?"

“Oh, no. Maybe a little. Bu- Hmm, well, do you happen to have a condom?"

"I'm the last person who would have condoms at home," she said with a silly laugh. “But I think from now on this will change.”

The moment you were sharing became more intense and intimate, and Minnie, feeling increasingly aroused, noticed how wet her pussy was. She decided to heighten the sensation, rubbing your cock between her pussy lips, moaning softly with each movement. "My god, I'm so wet for you," she whispered, her voice full of lust. Minnie began to slap your cock against her pussy, each hit making her moan louder. "Look how my little pussy is dripping, babe..." she teased, her eyes fixed on yours, full of desire. You couldn't resist; you grabbed your cock and started slapping it against Minnie's pussy. "Oh, yes... hit it hard..." "Fuck, this feels so good, Minnie." The contact between you increased the sexual tension, Minnie's moans becoming louder and more frequent. "My pussy is begging for you, babe," she said between sighs and moans. The friction between your bodies made the desire grow almost unbearably, leaving her even more excited and ready for the next step: Minnie finally slid your cock inside her, letting out a deep moan of pleasure. "Oh, yes, this is so good," she exclaimed, starting to ride you with rhythmic movements. The sensation of being inside her was indescribable, each pulse of excitement increasing your pleasure. Minnie moved with an intensity that made your whole body vibrate, her moans blending with yours. "You make me feel so good," she murmured, Minnie's hands resting on your chest as she rode faster and faster. Her petite body over yours, consumed by genuine passion for you and your cock.

The atmosphere between you reached its peak as Minnie continued riding you with fervor, her movements becoming more frantic as the climax approached. "I'm gonna cum... oh, I'm gonna cum so hard," she screamed, her eyes closed and her face contorted with pleasure. You could feel the heat and wetness around your cock as she rode faster and faster, her body trembling with excitement. "Yeah, come on, come for me, baby!" you said, panting, and with a final scream of pleasure, Minnie finally came, her body shaking violently as she fell apart on top of you. Sweat dripped from your bodies, your heavy breathing a testament to the intensity of the moment. She relaxed on you, completely spent, her eyes meeting yours with a satisfied and exhausted look, the glow of pleasure still reflecting in her pupils. The connection between you proved to be real; if the declarations, looks, and gestures weren't conclusive enough before, now every sigh and touch reaffirmed the intensity of the shared experience that only two people in love can feel.

But

Despite Minnie's intense orgasm, you still hadn't cum. Realizing this, Minnie smiled mischievously and murmured, "I'm going to make you cum now." She lifted herself for a moment, only to sit back down on your cock, her body still trembling with residual pleasure. Minnie began to grind intensely, her movements desperate and full of fervor. Your moans interspersed with your panting breath, your eyes closed, completely sedated by the sensation and the imminent explosion, still focused on not coming inside her. A lethal adrenaline rush. "Cum for me... please, cum for me," she begged, her voice broken by desire and urgency. "Oh, fuck, oh god! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, babe..." Minnie said, her words and the movements of her hips creating an irresistible mix of pleasure and pressure.

Then, the intensity of Minnie's movements, combined with her words, pushed you to the edge. Feeling the climax approaching, you announced, "I'm gonna cum, Minnie,"

Fuck…Her eyes shining with excitement… She got off you and begged: "Cum on my face... I want all your cum on my face." You quickly got up, your body trembling with anticipation. Minnie knelt in front of you, looking up at you with a gaze full of expectation and desire. With a final grunt, you stroked your cock rapidly and ejaculated onto her, the hot, pulsing jets covering her face. Minnie closed her eyes, moaning as she felt every drop, a smile of pure satisfaction forming on her lips, blending her shyness, naughtiness, and cuteness.

The room was filled with the smell of sex and sweat, the atmosphere still vibrating with the energy of the intense connection you shared. Minnie, still on her knees, wiped a drop of cum from the corner of her mouth, her expression one of deep and exhausted satisfaction.

With a loving gesture, you placed Minnie's glasses back on her face, your fingers sliding gently across her skin. "You don't know how beautiful you are now,” you whispered.

Your eyes met, sparks of desire still dancing between them. With a soft smile, you pulled her close and kissed her passionately. Your lips met in a final act of surrender to the intense passion that had consumed you both, the salty taste of your cum mixing sweetly and intimately between you...

And a couple of little yellow birds on the windowsill were silent witnesses to the newly blossomed passion.

[svndaysaweek]

e^(iπ)+1=0 — {Feat. Minnie}

1.3k words

A/N: I've been studying math so hard that I came up with this... I don't know if all readers can understand this, so I recommend googling the inclined terms(which are mathematical ones). Also know that e^(iπ)+1=0 is the most beautiful formula in mathematics,,

p.s: Why is eˣ okay but e^(iπ)+1=0 not? Tumblr mysteries..

Tags: Math(?), Choking, Creampie, Loving Sex

******

Minnie is like the eˣ function to you. The way her consistency fills up your heart—eˣ differentiated is still eˣ—, her always positive character—its domain is always positive number—, her out-of-this-world beauty—e^(iπ)+1=0—, and–

The way her back forms an exponential arc in front of you.

"F-fuck,"

On her knees Minnie is taking your pounding, with her entire body. Her back arcs upward to meet you face to face, as she turns her head back to you and into a blissful kiss.

You draw the sin x graph with your tongue inside her mouth. Up and down, up and down, corresponding to her tongue that draws a cos x graph, intertwined with yours completely—but following the exact same period of 2π.

You push her down to the mattress, and now you can see the hyperbolic curve of her waist. You grab on the narrow valley of it and continue pounding.

What you are doing to Minnie is distorting the perfectness of her body, although it's your way of worshiping it. The circular dark orbs in her elliptical eyes disappear into her head.

You choke her from behind. The amount of air getting in her lungs converges to zero, while the pleasure diverges to infinity.

Her fingers dig into the mattress as you pace up. You feel her walls pulse like sin x. Instant grips and loosenings of her pussy indicate that she is now close. You contribute the last drop of your patience for her orgasm—the maximum, when the derivative of her pleasure hits the X axis.

"I'm cummi–"

Minnie cums with a scream silenced by your grip around her neck. You for a moment regret restraining her voice, but no. You can just make her cum again, again, and again.

You flip her around to face you and resume the race. The race of which finish line you all are aware of obviously.

You kiss her again, this time drawing infinity with your tongue. It of course doesn't mean that it'll last forever, but you feel like it lasts as long as eternity itself. Rather, it would mean the neverending high you two are sharing right now.

Integral. Integrity. You and Minnie in bed together can't be counted as two. Undivided pleasure travels your connected, shared body. No boundaries are found between you and Minnie as you are pulled into a tight hug by her. You can feel how smooth her skin is, how soft her breasts are like it's your body—forget about the breasts, maybe.

Actually, it sounds quite right because it is your body—it's been so long since you lost count how many times you two told each other "You're mine,". Minnie moaning beneath you is yours. Yours to savor, yours to please, yours only to love.

Yes, yours only, and vice versa. You two are bijective functions. Each of your factors matches each of hers, without duplicity.

Again, you're hers only. Minnie is here, taking your cock to define you, to differentiate you, to integrate you. Minnie is moaning underneath your body, to be your proof, to be your solution, to be your answer.

"Are you close, babe?"

You were just about to say that you were, but you are so predictable a problem—Minnie knows the exact formulae to use when dealing with you.

"I am,"

Go ahead, she eyes you. You crook your neck to nibble on her ear and whisper,

"I fucking love you, Minnie,"

The moment you cum inside her, you are sent out of this world. The real world means nothing to you. Imaginary sensations feel more real than the real ones. Like you're feeling the i itself—the imaginary number.

1×1=1. You and Minnie just can't get separated. When it comes to you two, it's not the concept of addition or subtraction. You two love each other so it's 1×1=1. When you two are away from each other, you're still one, because 1÷1=1. Being 2 means you and Minnie are two 1s, which makes you two different individuals—right now, and of course always, you'd disprove that proudly.

You already came about half a minute ago, but you don't pull out. You see Minnie's heaving back and it's perfectly symmetrical—her erector muscles being the perfect axis for it.

It's an even function —f(x)=f(-x)— that you get visual, psychological satisfaction from. That way you could split her perfectly into two halves.

Your hands softly rub on her back. She still is in the middle of recovery, as you can feel her bumping heartbeats on your palm.

"Y-you feel so warm, baby,"

Minnie slightly lifts her limp head from the bed and murmurs with such a low tone. You then pull out and lie down next to her. Turning your body to her side you brush her hair behind her ears. She looks at you and gives you a satisfied, satisfying smile that could literally melt anything, everything.

Minnie's hand comes up to touch your face and–

It hits your still hard dick and she looks at it.

"Wanna go for another round?"

Minnie asks you, sitting up and getting on your thighs. It's a question with only one answer, it's another function that defines you two—a constant function, no matter what she says your answer is yes, undeniably.

Minnie grabs it, strokes it softly, and you feel your lust being recharged. Seems like she doesn't even look for your answer, anyway.

"Holy–"

You're inside her. Right after insertion Minnie starts to ride you out fast. You can only gasp at the feeling of her already-fucked inside, which is what you do every fucking time. Minnie kneeling, each of her knees are next to your both sides as she waves her hip and waist on you.

"Ah, fuck… You can last longer, right?"

She again asks you a question, locking fingers with you. Just like before, your answer is undoubtedly yes. Minnie then brings your hands to her lower waist and leans down forward, completely relying her weight on you. She lets your head into her embrace and whispers into your ear.

"Warm me up again, baby."

Your hands go down to grab on her hips and you begin fucking her upward with pace. As soon as your thrusts start to fuck your previous cum deeper into her womanhood, she moans beautifully into your ear.

Her arms tighten around your head, but the only tightness you can recognize is that of what's around your cock. She nibbles on your ear. Hot breaths tickle your ear, and her teeth on it motivates you to go even faster, rougher, and harsher. That's what loving sex is to her, and of course, to you too.

Your right hand detaches from her ass and gets on the back of her head. Minnie then lifts her head slightly up to fall into a dirty kiss. This time, you review the whole session beforehand.

You are drawing sin x, cos x, and infinity randomly with your tongue. Her back begins to arc exponentially, so you strengthen your hand on her head to keep her body tangent to yours. Your fingers on her ass rubs on her another hole, to make her pleasure diverge to infinity.

And everything you're doing earns her uncontrolled scream of ecstasy, as if she's trying to make an auditory definition of orgasm.

She again closes in to lock lips with you, and soon she cums. On your still-moving cock she cums hard, and in your mouth she lets the orgasmic sound out. It travels through your body fast, reverberates in your skull, sending you over the edge in no time.

You push deep into her for the last time before violently cumming inside her again.

It's explosive, you would term it. Minnie's entire body reacts to every spurt you shoot inside her.

"Holy fuck…"

You let out a sigh of words.

"Baby, that was…"

On top of her lungs she says, only to pause for breathing.

That was awesome, yeah. You know that, because you feel just like her too.

You look into her eyes, and find the excellence itself, the perfect, absolute beauty—e^(iπ)+1=0 .

[penissirius]

Hi…. Usually I’d never do this but I truly need help. As of Thursday (9/7/23) my house was burnt down. Thankfully no one was home but everything I’ve ever had or loved is gone. The only things I have are my phone and a few pairs of clothes. I have nothing else to my name as of now. Just so you don’t think I’m lying I’ll include a link to the article.

I’m truly scared and confused and so many other emotions all together. Me, my mom, and my 6 brothers are currently without so much stuff. A home, clothes, school supplies, food, any and everything you could think of. I just need alittle help- there’s a link to our go fund me, if you could just take alittle time out of your day to share this post and spread the word I’d be forever grateful

Even if you don’t help I want to say thank you for even reading my post and taking time to read it. God bless you all and I hope everyone has a better day than I’m having 🩵🩵